Dickens had just appeared on stage and put the whole world laughs with the first great story Pickwick. The Oliver Twist and his handsome. This was the second chance given to him by those who ha rolled about with laughter and song to Tupman, Wheeler Dowler. Under these circumstances stagey reciter will sometimes take care to give a pathetic piece after one of his sense of humor, and with all the moral worthiness of many, there was much that was stagey about Dickens. But this explanation alone is not quite enough, and unworthy. There was in Dickens this other kind of energy, horrible, uncanny, barbaric, capable in another age of roughness, greed of the slogans used ugliness, the coffin, gallows, and bones, and a bloody knife. Dickens liked these things, and each of more than one man to their liking, especially as it was more of each boy. We can all recall with pleasure that Miss Petowker (then Mrs. Lillyvick) was in the habit of reading a poem called "blood mustache and burial." I can not express my regret that does not give the words of this poem, for Dickens was quite capable of writing to "bury the blood drinker," as Miss Petowker to read them. The existence of this strain in Dickens alongside of his happy laughter, and allied to both romance and a strong one. Here as elsewhere Dickens is close to everything human permanently. It is close to religion, which did not allow the demons of a thousand churches in the bells to stop dancing to it. Is allied to the people, the real poor, who love nothing so much as to take a glass of joy and talk about the funeral. The extremes of his gloom and gaiety are the mark of religion and democracy, which mark him out from the moderate happiness of philosophers, in Stoicism, which is the doctrine of virtue, and aristocrats. There is nothing strange in the fact that it should also be the same man who conceived the warm humanity Pickwick imagine the inhuman laughter of Fagin's den. They are both real and both are exaggerated. We have to link together the whole human tradition in a strange knot these strands of celebration and fear. Through the glasses of the eve of the festival Birth that men have always competed in telling stories ghost.
Run on a tightrope quickly, and sudden death, spectacular and symbolic, a man hanged. There is something behind the scenes, and this is similar to the quality of Hogarth and many other English moralists in the early eighteenth century. Not easy to determine this Hogarthian quality in words, beyond saying that it is a sort of alphabetical realism, like the cruel candor of children. But it has about it these two principles for which separate it from what we call realism in our time. First, we have a moral story means a story of a legal entity; story with a moral meaning in many cases, a story about a person who is not immoral. Second, to be associated always with us realism with some subtle view of morals; was associated with them, always with some real simple view of ethics. At the end of Bill Sikes exactly in the way that the law had been killed.
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