The Portland daily press., 1874-03-18
A Shattered Idol.

Happy William Shakespeare! Unhappy
Charles Dickens! The dramatst either had
no near friends who were moved to write
life of him, or else, lei by his unerring wis
dom and his almost superhuman knowledge
OF character and the springs Of action and
opinion, he caused them, by the use OF pol
sons, or other sure means, to pass into a pet-
ter world before him. If he resorted TO the
means of posthumous security last mentlon-
ed, 1t was purely ar act OF seli-defense-lt
was merely life for life. He must have
known that if biographer, however friendly,
should give to his contemporaries and to pos
terity an unreserved account of all his con-
nubial difficulties with Ann Hathaway should
tell the whole truth in regard to that little
adventure in Sir Thomas Lucy's park, or
about his daily walk and conversation as
81 nNsmSes Of theatrical company, or should
paint his manners, his character and his per-
son exactly as they were, the result would be
the loss of the aureola that he foresaw, would
otherwise deck his brow.
The singular force with which knowledge
of an authors personal character and private
life, reacts on the readers appreciation of his
works has of late received new and
striking illustration. Before the publication
TO- of Forsters Life of Dickens, there was al
ready one generation of readers who knew
only vaguely of the novelist's domestic infe
licities. His older admirers had allowed the
memory of them to be completely obterated
in the lapse of time by their love and admi-
4I,a, I,,<E arc fa,,c INV
eagerly sought by all who owned the sway OF
the inspired story-teller, has spread a cloud
over the beloved memory that will not soon
be dissipated. In spite of reason and logic
We do read an author, to some extent,
in the light of his character as we
know it. The reaction of Joaquin
Miller's now we'll known personal affectation
lack of principle and essential vulgarity on
the estimate of his writings has been wonder
full. The certainty that Charles Dickens put
away his wife because he was tired of her
will surely impair the enjoyment with which
the world has hitherto read his hearty, kind
ly and humanizing description of virtuous
and happy domestic life. If his own story
could have been left, like that of the great
poet, whose fortune in this respect was so
very different, with its outlines all cloudy and
underlined, there would have been an Ideal
Dickens, as there is an ideal Shakespeare,
clothed with all the sweet and tender graces,
perfection of the noblest creations of his i'm
aginaton. There would have been Dick
ems with nature as sunny and CHEEKY as ev.
er blessed mankind by its overflow, with a
genial activity that had for its primary pur-
pose the happiness of his neighbors and a
heart bursting with love for all mankind.
Lord Bacon says in the introduction to
the Novum Organum that his work is not a
new discovery, but founded on a very an.
Gent model-nature itself. There are such
exhibitions of genius in The writings of Dick
ems that the time might have come wher
they would have cleared themselves from al
personal associations and, like Bacon's mas
tcrpio~c, I>L-----------r-.-.Ae.. A.s.
of time, one of the first hand products of ma
ture. But now the worlds pleasantly er.
rant Imagination will always be held in I'm.
wholesome check by the preraphaelite picture
drawn by the superserviceahe friend. Read
ers will always see glowering at them from
the page all glowing with emotion, with SYM
pathy almost painful in its Intensity and with
universal kindness, the face of cold, calcu-
lating man who thou ght, as he wrote, chiefly
of the pounds, shillings and pence his sim
ulated fervor would bring him. The man
who grew cold toward a faithful and loving
wife, they will say, would, in Bob Craschit's
place, have deserted his family-as David
Copperfield would have turned Dora out Of
doors. 1t is almost impossible to conceive OF
Dickens as the sordid, selfish. calculating,
cold-blooded man of the world, without con-
stancy of affection and with only a fitful
warmth of heart; but the memorable biog-
rapher forces this fiction upon unwilling and
reluctant readers. 1t is certainly question:
able whether it is real benefit to mankind
to have this Gradgrindish detail of 'facts''
and thus to lose the possibility of creating an
ideal Dickens to love as well as admire.