6

Summative Discussion and Conclusions to Part One

In this chapter we bring together the outcomes of our studies in Chapters 1 to 5. With regard to Dickens’s techniques, whether in his manipulation of characters or themes, or in his sentence-by-sentence rhetorical patterns, we have reached some insights that can be summarised:

1.  Dickens’s writing is always elaborately patterned;

2.  Dickens is exceptionally present, keeping his reader company, and urging us to join him in his emotions and to agree with his opinions;

3.  Dickens usually begins characterisation by depicting a grotesque. Some characters later develop psychological or emotional depth;

4.  Dickens uses a range of shallow or ‘grotesque’ background characters to create an illusion of a real population for the world of the text;

5.  Dickens’s writing is usually rich in figurative ideas; often these ideas are ‘literalised’ and developed subsequently, giving rise to a narrative mode that depends on metaphor; and

6.  Dickens sometimes allocates significance to elements of the narrative, as symbols; and occasionally he undertakes a narrative project we could call ‘magic realism’.

Having listed these insights into the author’s techniques, we turn to face issues concerning our overall experience of these novels: the themes and content. When we face these issues – for example looking at them as proposing a critique of society, or as representing human nature – then we find that most of the conclusions we have reached are complex, and raise questions rather than laying anything to rest. An example will underline this.

The opening salvos

Dickens’s attacks upon Utilitarianism and the Court of Chancery respectively, are such powerfully polemic openings that we asked: how fully does the ensuing novel bear out the campaigning promise of such a start? We reached the conclusion that Dickens continued to work on these themes throughout each novel. So, the rather stilted discussion of philosophy between Gradgrind, Bitzer and Sleary in the penultimate chapter of Hard Times, and the death of Richard in Bleak House, give evidence that the twin targets of ‘Facts’ and ‘fog’ are still in Dickens’s sights: that the attacks launched on each novel’s opening page, are carried through.

However, we were also slightly dissatisfied by this conclusion. We made two observations about each novel, which at least weakened, if they did not divert us from the initial positive finding. With regard to Hard Times, we noticed (1) that the dominant plot of, approximately, the second half of the novel, is the crime and detection story of Tom’s theft from the bank; a story that drives events and keeps us turning pages, but which has little relevance to Utilitarianism. Then, we recognised (2) that Dickens develops his critique of industrial society, and depicts the sufferings and injustices imposed upon the working ‘Hands’, with decreasing reference to Gradgrind’s philosophy, and an increasingly direct attack on straightforward greed and the abuse of power. In Bleak House we remarked that (1) the dominant and gripping plot at the centre of the novel, is the plot about Lady Dedlock’s secret and Esther’s parentage. This is a society scandal tragedy, founded on a passionate but doomed romance: a story drawn from the tradition of Gothic fiction. It is this plot that drives our interest through the book, and it has nothing to do with the Court of Chancery. Then we remarked that (2) there is a powerful appeal to our anger and sympathy on behalf of the destitute and abused, in the form of Jo, the brick-makers’ wives and the dead baby. This emotional appeal at least competes with, and arguably eclipses, our sympathy for Richard, Miss Flite and Gridley, the victims of Chancery.

In both novels, then, we felt that the reader’s sympathy is diverted by the appeal of competing themes, and the reader’s interest is held by conventional plots, both features which dilute the potency of Dickens’s attacks on Utilitarianism and Chancery. Such are the complex conclusions we have attempted to articulate from our studies.

Questions

Instead of attempting to formulate conclusions where each one needs to be elaborated or qualified, we will approximate the state to which our ideas have been brought by our studies so far, by framing a series of questions. Each of these questions should send us back to the text to seek evidence for and against each answer. In each case individual readers may reach their own answers, different from those of other readers. Each of us is likely to reach a complex answer, in any event. We are likely to say that the truth is partly on one side, and partly on the other. One general insight is indicated by this: that Dickens is a writer who provokes a peculiarly personal set of responses.

Here is a list of questions, together with a brief discussion to put each into context.

1.  Are the initially stated themes of these two novels developed and sustained?

We have discussed this question as our example above. We have suggested that the adoption of a central genre-typical plot (crime story; society scandal); and the development of powerful competing themes (wrongness of industrial society; outrage at illiterate destitution) detract from the overall impact of the initial attack, although that theme is also followed through.

2.  Is Dickens’s characterisation ‘realistic’ or ‘psychological’? How we define ‘psychological’ will determine our answer here. Esther has her psychology: she underestimates her own abilities, is coy and shy about her love for Allan Woodcourt and covers psychological discomfort by being busy. Does this amount to a ‘psychologically’ drawn character? Elsewhere, Louisa Gradgrind is difficult to follow: she seems to be half-psychology and half-development of the Utilitarianism theme. When she is demonstrating Dickens’s theory of the irresistible ‘law of Creation’, Louisa is less convincing. There are acute psychological observations of Richard Carstone: both of his self-deceptions and his obsession.

Many characters experience powerful emotions of shock, horror or emotional pain. Are these ‘realistic’? Does a strong emotion make a character ‘psychological’?

3.  Is the characterisation of angelic women a weakness in the context of Dickens’s range of characterisation?

Earlier in our study we suggested that Esther’s virtues of humility and housekeeping are qualities that would be admired by a Victorian man in a Victorian woman. We have been critical, as modern readers, of Dickens’s angelic women. However, we need to consider how much allowance to make for the contemporary readership. Also, we should recognise that these women carry a significant part of Dickens’s overtly Christian message. Therefore, deciding how we respond to these women is also a response to that message.

4.  Is Dickens’s Christian/individualist philosophy adequate to the task his novels set for it?

This is a very difficult issue to consider, and is one where different readers will reach very different conclusions. Dickens seems to show a high-principled Christianity in action, for example in Rachael’s care for Mrs. Blackpool, in Mr. Jarndyce renouncing his right to marry Esther and in Woodcourt’s prayer with Jo. Self-sacrifice and forgiveness are the characteristics. However, this high-flown Christianity is not always effective beyond its brief and limited purpose. Notice that Sir Leicester Dedlock’s conspicuous forgiveness of his wife does not save her life. We remarked that Sissy wields the power of something we called ‘goodness’ over Harthouse. She sends him away successfully. On the other hand, he relapses into vice straight away afterwards.

There are also questions about self-sacrifice: do we find that Ada’s hiding of her feelings from her husband is too dishonest for our approval? How do we feel about Esther’s high-principled rejection of Allan’s proposal?

The question here, as with Dickens’s social critique, is: what does the author claim for his Christian theme? Do these novels set any particular ‘task’ for the Christian faith, or is it to be seen merely as a good way of living and behaving, but unlikely to have more than occasional local or domestic benefits?

5.  Is there a difficulty in that Dickens proposes only domestic solutions to what are primarily political and economic evils?

We looked at Dickens’s critiques of society, in Chapter 4, and we found that there is a preponderance of very powerful and effective anger and outrage at the way things are; but there is a deficit when it comes to analysis or if we look for solutions. We remarked that Dickens would like industrial cities to have more trees, safer and quieter machines and so forth. Similarly, he wants Chancery to deal with its cases expeditiously, without so many lawyers and dusty old files. These prescriptions for reform are vague and optimistic. What comes through strongly, and enlists our outrage alongside that of our companion Dickens, is the apparent social horrors he describes.

The resolution of each novel is worth thinking about when considering this question. In Hard Times, remember that Rachael continues working (presumably in Bounderby’s mill) and caring for Stephen’s alcoholic wife, until she is too old to continue. No change there: and the Gradgrinds live more happily, but in the protective comfort of their wealth and outside town. In Bleak House, an idyllic domestic and professional ambit is given to Esther and Allan, in a country area some distance from London. The suggestion that Dickens’s novels can only retreat from the world, behind a barrier of privacy and domesticity, when faced by the rampant sores and evils of Victorian society, seems a valid way of describing the resolution offered by these texts.

6.  Do these novels propose a society too fractured, complex and corrupted for any coherent interpretation to encompass?

Here we come to a question we have already considered in two of its constituent parts: in relation to the texts’ Christianity; and in relation to the analysis of society. Each reader will have to think this one through very carefully for themselves, in order to reach their own accommodation with Dickens. For example, aside from considering the thoughts we have already mentioned in 4 and 5 above, it is also important to acknowledge the crowded population Dickens provides. Look at a world containing the Chadbands, Krook, the Smallweeds, the Bagnets, George and Squod, Vholes, the Snagsbys, the Jellybys and Pardiggles, the brick-makers and their wives, Miss Flite, Mr. Gridley, Conversation Kenge, Jo, Bucket, Guppy and Jobling – and this list is far from complete. Such a world contains a great deal of greed and evil, and a minority of sympathetic people. Furthermore, it is apparent that only those with enough money can hope to control their environment in order to live a reasonable life.

This leads us to a further question, which indicates why readers are so divided about Dickens. It comes as two conditional questions. It is as follows, and we will leave it on the page without further discussion, as it is the crux of our response to Hard Times and Bleak House.

If you have reached the answer that yes, Dickens does present a fractured, insolubly complex and corrupted society, does this express the author’s view, or is it a fatal weakness, an incoherence that represents a failure of Dickens’s art?

If, on the other hand, you have decided that Dickens’s optimistic Christian message can outweigh the fractures and corruption he also depicts, is this a measure of artistic success, or does it reduce these novels to mere facile moral fables?