Appreciations and Criticisms of the Works of Charles Dickens | Page 3

we know them. And
we know them to be Hebrew. Mr. Veneering, the Man from Nowhere,
dark, sphinx-like, smiling, with black curling hair, and a taste in florid
vulgar furniture--of what stock was he? Mr. Lammle, with "too much
nose in his face, too much ginger in his whiskers, too much sparkle in
his studs and manners"--of what blood was he? Mr. Lammle's friends,
coarse and thick-lipped, with fingers so covered with rings that they
could hardly hold their gold pencils--do they remind us of anybody?
Mr. Fledgeby, with his little ugly eyes and social flashiness and craven
bodily servility--might not some fanatic like M. Drumont make
interesting conjectures about him? The particular types that people hate
in Jewry, the types that are the shame of all good Jews, absolutely run
riot in this book, which is supposed to contain an apology to them. It
looks at first sight as if Dickens's apology were one hideous sneer. It

looks as if he put in one good Jew whom nobody could believe in, and
then balanced him with ten bad Jews whom nobody could fail to
recognise. It seems as if he had avenged himself for the doubt about
Fagin by introducing five or six Fagins--triumphant Fagins, fashionable
Fagins, Fagins who had changed their names. The impeccable old
Aaron stands up in the middle of this ironic carnival with a peculiar
solemnity and silliness. He looks like one particularly stupid
Englishman pretending to be a Jew, amidst all that crowd of clever
Jews who are pretending to be Englishmen.
But this notion of a sneer is not admissible. Dickens was far too frank
and generous a writer to employ such an elaborate plot of silence. His
satire was always intended to attack, never to entrap; moreover, he was
far too vain a man not to wish the crowd to see all his jokes. Vanity is
more divine than pride, because it is more democratic than pride. Third,
and most important, Dickens was a good Liberal, and would have been
horrified at the notion of making so venomous a vendetta against one
race or creed. Nevertheless the fact is there, as I say, if only as a
curiosity of literature. I defy any man to read through Our Mutual
Friend after hearing this suggestion, and to get out of his head the
conviction that Lammle is the wrong kind of Jew. The explanation lies,
I think, in this, that Dickens was so wonderfully sensitive to that
change that has come over our society, that he noticed the type of the
oriental and cosmopolitan financier without even knowing that it was
oriental or cosmopolitan. He had, in fact, fallen a victim to a very
simple fallacy affecting this problem. Somebody said, with great wit
and truth, that treason cannot prosper, because when it prospers it
cannot be called treason. The same argument soothed all possible
Anti-Semitism in men like Dickens. Jews cannot be sneaks and snobs,
because when they are sneaks and snobs they do not admit that they are
Jews.
I have taken this case of the growth of the cosmopolitan financier,
because it is not so stale in discussion as its parallel, the growth of
Socialism. But as regards Dickens, the same criticism applies to both.
Dickens knew that Socialism was coming, though he did not know its
name. Similarly, Dickens knew that the South African millionaire was

coming, though he did not know the millionaire's name. Nobody does.
His was not a type of mind to disentangle either the abstract truths
touching the Socialist, nor the highly personal truth about the
millionaire. He was a man of impressions; he has never been equalled
in the art of conveying what a man looks like at first sight--and he
simply felt the two things as atmospheric facts. He felt that the
mercantile power was oppressive, past all bearing by Christian men;
and he felt that this power was no longer wholly in the hands even of
heavy English merchants like Podsnap. It was largely in the hands of a
feverish and unfamiliar type, like Lammle and Veneering. The fact that
he felt these things is almost more impressive because he did not
understand them.
Now for this reason Dickens must definitely be considered in the light
of the changes which his soul foresaw. Thackeray has become classical;
but Dickens has done more: he has remained modern. The grand
retrospective spirit of Thackeray is by its nature attached to places and
times; he belongs to Queen Victoria as much as Addison belongs to
Queen Anne, and it is not only Queen Anne who is dead. But Dickens,
in a dark prophetic kind of way, belongs to the developments. He
belongs to the times since his death when Hard Times grew harder, and
when Veneering became