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by Marilyn Green Faulkner

  Without an advocate in a hostile world, Oliver survives his first few years out of sheer determination, and Dickens keeps this light tone even as he describes the most horrendous treatment at the hands of the wicked Mr. Bumble and Mrs. Mann. (Nobody names characters more perfectly than Dickens.) Dickens’s greatness lies in the way he can turn the mundane into the memorable, and the most famous scene in this book illustrates the way in which a Dickens character can become an emblem for an entire class. Oliver, new to the workhouse, is nudged and encouraged by his fellow boys to do the unthinkable: he asks for more food. (The Poor Law of 1834 actually mandated the pitiful amounts of food allowed to indigent children.) As Oliver struggles to his feet and holds out his empty bowl, Dickens puts a nation on alert that society has gone awry:

  “Child as he was, he was desperate with hunger, and reckless with misery. He rose from the table; and advancing to the master, basin and spoon in hand, said: somewhat alarmed at his own temerity: ‘Please, Sir, I want some more.’” (12)

  Of course, Oliver’s simple plea is treated as a criminal act, and he is branded as a troublemaker. His ejection from lawful society, where he has been neglected and abused, is followed by his introduction to the underworld of London, where he is fed, welcomed and even loved. Dickens’s point is clear: if society does not care for its own, it will pay the price in increased crime and social unrest. We can be assured that Fagin and his boys have relevance to our day when we view the proliferation of the gang culture in our inner cities, where fatherless children find a family of sorts in criminal groups. Terrorist organizations like Hamas are modern-day Fagins: they feed and care for the widows and fatherless among them, and receive loyal support in return, underscoring again that this is a fairy tale with a message for any age. Rose makes an impassioned plea to save Oliver from going to prison, one that should resonate in any social setting:

  “But even if he has been wicked,’ pursued Rose, ‘think how young he is, think that he may never have known a mother’s love, or the comfort of a home; and that ill-usage and blows, or the want of bread, may have driven him to herd with men who have forced him to guilt. Aunt, dear aunt, for mercy’s sake, think of this, before you let them drag this sick child to a prison, which in any case must be the grave of all his chances of amendment.” (231)

  Racial Stereotypes

  Fagin, one of the most memorable characters in Dickens, was a repository for all of the fears and prejudices of Victorian society. Dickens plays on racist stereotypes with this Jewish abuser of children who sees in poor defenseless Oliver only a chance for gain. He is described as something reptilian, less than human:

  “As he glided stealthily along, creeping beneath the shelter of the walls and doorways, the hideous old man seemed like some loathsome reptile, engendered in the slime and darkness through which he moved: crawling forth, by night, in search of some rich offal for a meal.” (345)

  Yet, with all his disgusting qualities, there is something strangely likeable about Fagin. Indeed, Dickens lavishes so much creative effort on his villains that they often spring to life with greater believability than his heroes. Norrie Epstein explains:

  “Fagin is diseased, satanic, effeminate, greedy, and has a lust for boys. Yet, dare we confess how much we enjoy him? Ironically, it’s Fagin, rather than the blandly virtuous characters, who has all the fun in the novel. He’s the enticing stranger who hangs around the playground, promising candy and rides in fast cars.” (The Friendly Dickens, 83.)

  A Social Conscience

  Like the Artful Dodger himself, Dickens lures us into this nether world in a friendly, offhand fashion, but he has a very serious purpose. Throughout the narrative, Dickens is trying to wake us up to the plight of the poor. First he draws us into the orphanage, and we begin to see the young Oliver as an individual whose life is important, even though he is weak and small. As he begs for “more” we begin to feel his hunger and pain. Next, he bids us follow Oliver into the seamy underbelly of London. We smell the stink of gin on Bill Sykes’ breath, and know that Nancy will pay dearly tonight when he stumbles home. We fear for Oliver and even begin to bond with Fagin, who at least offers him some kind of home and protection. This was all new for Victorian readers, and they embraced the orphan boy even as they recoiled at the worldview Dickens presented. But Dickens had an unshakeable faith in human nature, and in his stories there is always hope on the horizon:

  “Men who look on nature, and their fellow-men, and cry that all is dark and gloomy, are in the right; but the sombre colours are reflections from their own jaundiced eyes and hearts. The real hues are delicate, and need a clearer vision.” (324)

  There is a kind of deux ex machina at work in all of Dickens’s novels, a heavenly interference (what Wordsworth referred to as a “visionary gleam,”) that alters the course of events. At crucial moments in the narrative, such as times of birth, death, or great danger, divine influences are felt that guide the characters and give meaning to their sufferings. Dickens explains it in this way:

  “The memories which peaceful country scenes call up, are not of this world, nor of its thoughts and hopes. Their gentle influence may teach us how to weave fresh garlands for the graves of those we loved: may purify our thoughts, and bear down before it old enmity and hatred; but beneath all this, there lingers, in the least reflective mind, a vague and half-formed consciousness of having held such feelings long before, in some remote and distant time, which calls up solemn thoughts of distant times to come, and bends down pride and worldliness beneath it.” (409)

  Oliver Twist is a good introduction to the hilarious, sentimental, dramatic, ironic, brilliant world of Charles Dickens. You might want to follow it with David Copperfield, to see how his genius reaches its height, then Great Expectations, to feel how the wisdom and disappointments of age affect his writing. All three are stories of boys who are cast upon a difficult social sea and somehow make their way, illustrating above all Dickens’s faith in the resilience and tenacity of the human spirit.

  Quotations taken from Oliver Twist, Penguin Classics Edition, New York. 1984.

  Talk About It

  Books reflect the prejudices and racial stereotypes of their times. Fagin, the villain in Oliver Twist, resembles Shylock in Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice. Each is a bundle of racial stereotypes rolled into one, evil character. Can books be great that perpetuate such stereotypes? If so, how and why?

  About the Author: Charles Dickens

  Charles Dickens was as interesting as any of the more than two thousand characters he created. Born in 1812 to middle class parents who loved to socialize and tended to live beyond their means, Charles was a deeply imaginative child, weak and somewhat sickly, who enjoyed observing others and exhibited an early gift for theatrics.

  When Charles was eleven, his father was sent to debtor’s prison, and Charles was forced to work in a dark, miserable blacking warehouse for a year until his father could bring him home. This terrible season of his life had such an impact on Dickens that he never spoke of it, even to his wife. At age fifteen, he had to leave school for good and start out on his own as a journalist. His childhood experiences combined to form a man of great ambition and energy coupled with a deep appreciation for the poor and downtrodden of the world.

  Dickens fell in love as a young man but was rejected in favor of a more successful man. He married the next available young lady he met, Catherine Hogarth, the daughter of a well-known man of letters whom Dickens admired. Their courtship, from the first, was rather more practical than romantic, and grew more strained as their family grew to include ten children. After twenty-two years of marriage he separated from his wife, though he remained close to his children, who were fiercely protective of his fame and reputation.

  Charles Dickens died at the relatively young age of 58, exhausted by a life of extreme exertion; having written novels, papers and articles at a feverish pace for nearly forty years.

  Source: Dickens, by Peter Ackroyd. Harper Perennial, 1992. />
  Innocents Abroad:

  The Old Curiosity Shop, by Charles Dickens

  Dickens continued his use of the child as protagonist in The Old Curiosity Shop. Published in serial form in 1840-1841, the book enthralled readers with its combination of the grotesque and the awe-inspiring. Little Nell Trent is the typical Dickens heroine, “sensitive, frightened, and prematurely responsible,” in Paul Schlicke’s summation. Adrift in a sea of evil, Nell navigates with a purity of spirit that touches everyone she meets, and foreshadows her doom as a creature too noble for this world.

  Synopsis

  Conceived as a kind of allegory, the story follows Little Nell as she travels through a sinister world, pursued by the evil dwarf Quilp, whose personality, by turns hilarious and sadistic, colors the landscape she is forced to inhabit. Nell’s only protector, her ill-fated grandfather, is ironically also the source of her troubles, since his terrible addiction to gambling places her in constant jeopardy. Like many children of addictive parents, Nell is forced prematurely into adulthood. Together they flee from her Grandfather’s shop full of strange “curiosities,” where Nell has been raised, and embark on a journey where she encounters their living counterparts. It’s a road trip like nothing you’ve ever imagined.

  Like Alice in Wonderland, Nell dwells in a dream world (she is constantly wondering if she is awake or asleep) that really is a nightmare. Besides the maniacal dwarf who pursues her, Nell meets puppeteers, clowns, magicians, and even works for a time as the assistant in a waxwork exhibition. Each of these grotesque characters is drawn in intricate and often hilarious detail. True to style, Dickens gives us plenty of subplots, with Nell’s safety threatened as Quilp weaves a scheme to defraud her of a fortune she does not actually possess.

  In the process we have the pleasure of meeting another great Dickens creation, Dick Swiveller, the delightfully reckless drunkard who emerges as the unlikely hero of the tale. Besides having one of the best names in fiction, Dick Swiveller is a wonderful bundle of contradictions.

  Did You Know?

  When Dickens passed away suddenly at the age of 58, the nation was devastated. His grave was left open for two days and thousands passed by to look at his simple oak coffin. Later his son said that among the many bouquets of flowers that were tossed into the grave, “were afterwards found several small rough bouquets of flowers tied up with pieces of rag.” (Dickens, Peter Ackroyd, p. xiv.) The common people loved Dickens; they felt he represented them and felt his loss as a loss of something in them.

  He’s lazy and shiftless, but is so likeable that when he is finally forced to go to work we’re sorry for him! Mrs. Jarley, the entrepreneur extraordinaire who employs Nell at the waxworks, is another delightful creation. Even Quilp, when he is not terrifying, is very funny. The loose narrative structure allows Dickens to introduce an absolute menagerie of wild characters in startling contrast to the steady, beautiful child. We see, through Nell’s eyes, the very human nature of a carnival world. In the end, Nell succumbs to the strain of her journey and dies in one of the most famous, or infamous (depending on your point of view) scenes in literature.

  What Makes it Great

  The Old Curiosity Shop became a cultural phenomenon comparable to the miniseries Roots or to the musical Les Miserables. At its height 100,000 copies sold of each number in the series, and for fifty weeks readers on both sides of the Atlantic worried over the fate of Little Nell. In December of 1841 readers began to sense a melancholy turn in the tone of the novel, and Dickens reported to his publishers that they “inundated him with imploring letters recommending poor little Nell to mercy.” Dickens was resolute, however, that Nell, as a symbol of purity in an evil world, must be released from her earthly suffering. Summoning up the grief he had suffered three years earlier when his beloved sister-in-law Mary Hogarth died in his arms, Dickens composed the famous scene. This was a terrible experience for a man who called his characters his “children,” and who suffered more over their fates than those of real people in his life. “I am,” he wrote to a friend, “for the time, nearly dead with work and grief for the loss of my child . . . I went to bed last night utterly dispirited and done up. All night I have been pursued by the child; and this morning I am unrefreshed and miserable. I do not know what to do with myself.” When he finally finished the novel he mourned in a letter, “Nobody shall miss her like I shall.” American legend tells of thousands lining the New York docks awaiting the ship transporting the next issue of Nell’s saga, crying to those on board, “Is Little Nell dead?” Unfortunately, she was.

  Little Nell’s legendary demise brings us to the sharpest criticism leveled against this novel, and against Dickens in general, namely, his sentimentality. G.K. Chesterton said of Dickens, “His humor was inspiration, but his pathos was ambition.” In other words, Dickens could not help creating wonderful, comic characters, but he created sentimental ones in order to sell books. His long, maudlin death scenes can leave one squirming, and critics, even in his own day, accused him of emotional manipulation. (Oscar Wilde famously quipped that “one must have a heart of stone to read the death of Little Nell without laughing.”) Aldous Huxley wrote: “One of Dickens’s most striking peculiarities is that, whenever in his writing he becomes emotional, he ceases instantly to use his intelligence. The overflowing of his heart drowns his head and even dims his eyes; for whenever he is in the melting mood, Dickens ceases to be able and probably ceases even to wish to see reality. His one and only desire on these occasions is just to overflow, nothing else.” (Vulgarity in Literature, 1930)

  Is Dickens too sentimental? My own opinion is a firm yes . . . and no. Certainly Dickens has moments of pure sentimentality. Yet remember that Dickens was writing to people who faced death often. One third of the children born in Victorian society died before they were grown. That meant that nearly every family reading the latest installment of his novels had buried, or would bury, at least one child. Dickens, himself no stranger to death, wanted to do something through his writing to help people deal with the loss of loved ones. He wrote, “I resolved to try and do something which might be read by people about whom Death had been,—with a softened feeling, and with consolation.” Scholar Arthur Henry King (who as a young boy lost both his father and younger brother) movingly described Dickens’s importance in his emotional life:

  “I met death in Dickens. It made more of an impression on me than anything else in Dickens. There was the death of Little Nell, the death of Paul Dombey, the death of Barkis in David Copperfield, the death (above all) of Dora. I remember reading about that in the autumn of 1918. It was October; it was a rainy day; and it was late afternoon when I read that chapter. I read it by the light of the fire. I can still remember all that. I can still remember my grief, and I can still remember that it took me several months to overcome that grief about a fictive character in a book—not that I have ever really recovered. That experience at the age of eight prepared me to find value in the passing of loved ones. It helped me to endure and properly experience the real deaths that followed it . . . We need to prepare our children for death. It is one of the things that they need and have a right to learn, and it is from literature that they can best learn it.” (Arm the Children, 108-9)

  The world changes very little, really. People are born, they live, they love, and they die. Through great novels we have an opportunity both to rehearse and to relive some of life’s most difficult and tremendous moments. Literature can help us come to terms with life and death, lay down our burden of bitterness and receive wisdom in its stead. The Old Curiosity Shop will make you laugh and cry, and both will be, to use my father’s expression, “good for what ails you.”

  Quotations taken from The Old Curiosity Shop. Penguin Classic Edition, New York. 1984.

  Talk About It

  Little Nell is almost too good to be true! Pure, sweet and gullible, she seems doomed to destruction by her very innocence. What do you think of her? Do you like Nell, or like Oscar Wilde, do you find her cl
oying, or even laughable?

  About the Author:

  Charles Dickens’s London

  Filled with restless energy, Dickens walked the streets of London by night, sometimes covering fifteen to twenty miles at a time. He attended executions and visited the prisons. He peered into the back streets and became intimately familiar with the primitive living conditions of the poor. What he saw was heartbreaking. The London that Dickens perambulated had no social services, no public sanitation, and was rife with crime and social unrest. It is estimated that over 40,000 prostitutes walked the streets. Graveyards, unregulated and overfilled by their greedy proprietors, literally overflowed, causing a noxious stench to fill the surrounding streets.

  Perhaps the greatest sufferers in Victorian society were the youngsters. Children, unprotected by law, were forced to work long hours in factories, clamber up blackened chimneys as sweeps, or risk their lives in the mines. Unwanted and illegitimate children were sent north to schools where they were abused and underfed. Though his remarkable talent brought Dickens early and lasting success, his humble beginnings caused him to relate with these, the lowest classes of society.

  A man whose life was a microcosm of the Victorian ideal, Dickens rose from obscurity to greatness on his own merits, yet never ceased to champion the forgotten masses of poor and suffering people left in the wake of the industrial revolution. When Dickens was born, very few middle class homes had more than a few books; they were too expensive for average families. At the turn of the next century, very few middle class homes were without a complete set of Dickens’s novels, since they were considered the foundation of every good education.