The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1870-07-02
Charles Dickens.

DR.. Bellows, of New York, at the con-
clusion Of his sermon, thus alluded to the
death Of the great English novelist
Rarely have the genius and gifts of the
individual soul been SO emphasized as in
the worldwide interest and sorrow felt in
the extinction of that shining lamp sud
denly dashed from the altar of literature
Charles Dickens. The burning coal at
which a million hearts ignited their dull
fancies, is quenched. He that made lsng
succession of Christmasses merry for all
English speaking people has heard his last
chime He that wrote more and better
than any novelist of his time, who had the
dangerous field of the comic for his peculiar
sphere, yet never penned line that dying
he could wish to blot, can add nothing to
the inexhaustible store of his creations, can
body forth no new offspring of his teaming
fancy, coin no new exaggeratien and stamp
it with reality, put no fresh extravaganza
upon its feet and make it seem alive and
human! What a place he has filled in the
expectations of his race as they have waited
month on month, and year after year-not
knowing what his genius might bring forth
yet never disappointed in it's fruit. This
is not the. time and place to characterize
that genius. He was the possessor of
wit and invention that might have super
seeded labor, to which labor lent its pains
taking support and economy. His humor
had the ease of carelessness and the cor
rectness of study. His exaggerations, the
boldest that have escaped caricature, and
impossible in fact, were made as human
and real as if they might have worn flesh
and blood. The greatest master of details,
microscopic in observation, and an encyclo-
pedia of small facts, he worked with a
brush as fine as camels' hair, and produced
effects as broad as the scene-painter. He
never forgot the great outlines in the small
finish.
Artful in his plots, careful in his means,
and knowing his own purpose from the
start, he was always master of the subject
and Of himself-a true artist that owes
nothing to chance or trick-everything to
a clear-seeing purpose, and conspiracy Of
all his powers upon his aim. That aim was
always pure and generous and high to ex-
alt integrity and truth, to abase falsehood,
cruelty and hypocrisy, and to do it by steal
ing upon universal sympathies, and leagu-
ing all the fun-loving and pathetic sensibil-
tiles of the soul in the service of common
humanity. He enlisted ordinary universal
man in his cause. Whom profound moral
lists, Christian preachers, could not reach,
he touched and ruled. His spiritual knife
was so sharp and SO sheathed that its edge
was neither seen nor felt while it did its
surgical work. He wrought, doubtless,
many a substantial conversion from the
purpose of crime, or folly, or cruelty, by a
dose of laughter, whose tears are oftener
more purifying than those of sorrow. He
made hypocrisy, selfishness, and sentiment
tality absurd and contemplate, when it
would have been of no avail simply to prove
them sinful and wrong. But, after all,
what l envy him most for is not what the
world recognizes as his usefulness-his po-
tent assaults on public wrongs and scan
dals, the work-house, the boarding school,
the Chancery Court-great as these services
were ; but the Unreasonable sum of great,
unadulterated pleasure he has given the
world, the countless hours of amused and
absorbed qualification he has brought into
all sorts of homes in both hemispheres.
All! what Ged-like thing it is to shed
so much self-forgetfulness and balm into
the sore and tried heart of humanity =
Who has given so much pleasure as he,
amused SO many weary hours, raised so
toll, drawn SO many delicious tears, evoked
so much unrepenting laughter-and all
with SO little, aye, nothing for morality to
abate-nothing to inflame, tarnisk or sour
the imagination and hearts of men! God
bless such benefactor. And he was
blessed !; for no man perhaps ever lived
who received in his own person and in his
own day so full measure of the apprecia-
ton and reward of his literary genius. 1t
is the only unpropitious agury of his horo-
scope that posterity has no part of our
debt to pay him, and cannot give him
reputation greater than he lived to enjoy.
One almost sees hanging over his glory the
warning, "Son, remember that thou in thy
lifetime received thy good things" Flu
ture generations may abate from his
fame, for humor in masquerade, CONFUSING
for the moment, does not last like humor
in plain clothes; and exaggeration, how
ever skilful and artistic, has certain touch
of decay and fergetfuldess in it's very noise
and glitter. But, however that may be,
Mr.. Dickens drained the cup of immediate
fame to the bottom, and found no dregs in
it. His genius survives him in reputedly
completed but only half-publshed work.
which promises to be his best. Happy in
his sudden death as in his steady and grow
ing reputation, he is the greatest example
the world has perhaps ever had of an utterly
and permanently prosperous author reaping
his full harvest himself, and leaving enough
for his children and future generations to
reap to excite the certain admiration of all
future times.
Should we not bless God for giving such
gifts unto men? Does not our common
humanity glow with his splendor? Is not
the ordinary human soul enlarged and ele-
waited by his genius? And who has done
more to show how great little child may
be, how small reputed SAINT All his
triumphs were tributes to the essential
glory of our common humanity, when true
to ordinary opportunities, humble talents
and the lowest social spheres. AS a vindi-
Gator of the intrinsic worth of all human
souls, Dickens, not prOfessed moralist,
has excelled all the professed moralists,
and preachers and teachers of his day. If
he was not Christian, he was glorious
instrument of Gods providence, and may
shame, at the great account, many whose
Christianity Is unquestioned, but whose
usefulness and worth are taken on trust
Let us be cautious how we raise questions