Dickens, Charles - Biography and works

Dickens, Charles - Biography and works

Charles Dickens was born at Portsea, in 1812, the second of eight children. His father, a very impecunious clerk in the Navy Pay Office at Portsmouth removed to Chatham in 1816, and subsequently - having lost his civil service post - settled at Camden Town, a poor suburb if London. The boy's education was badly neglected. Fortunately there were in the poor household a few copies of the novels of Defoe, Fielding, Smollett and Goldsmith, which the lad read whit eagerness. Things however went from bad to worse. Charles's father was arrested for debt and consigned to Marshalsea Prison, and Charles was sent to work at a blacking warehouse, where he was employed to stick labels ion bottles. The Sundays were passed at the Marshalsea. Of these days of misery and humiliation, Dickens always preserved a bitter recollection, but there is no doubt that they gave him an invaluable knowledge of the life of the humble, who were to play a leading role in most of his novels. In 1831, having taught himself shorthand, Dickens became a parliamentary reporter. He soon after began to contribute articles to several magazines, and his Sketches by Boz (1834) were his first literary achievement of any note.

The Pickwick Papers, begun in April 1936 and appearing in monthly numbers, made him the most popular writer of his day: the sale of the Pickwick Papers reached 40.000 copies. From then until his death, Dickens's activity was incessant and his popularity never waned. His novels: Oliver Twist (1838), Nicholas Nickelby (1839), Old Curiosity Shop (1840), Barnaby Rudge (1841), Martin Chuzzlewit (1843), The Little Dorrit (1852-1847), not to speak of his exquisite Christmas Stories, were the delight of all classes of readers. David Copperfield (1849-1850) is largely autobiographical. The Little Dorrit likewise contains many reminiscences of the melancholy days of Camden Town. After 1858, Dickens gave many public readings in England, Scotland, France and America; he died in June 1870 and was buried in Westminster Abbey.
The art of Dickens is by no means faultless. The matter of his novels is often intricate and confused - in the building of a plot he does not excel - and he preeminently lacks the power of restraint so essential to the production of the purest works of art. His language is overladen with metaphors, and his bent for caricature betrays him into ludicrous effects of style which, though they caught the fancy of a few generations, are liable, in the long run, to detract from his fame. Yet it is a fact that his novels are being constantly reprinted. Admitting faults of taste, both in composition and style, no one can resist the appeal of Dickens's pathos - born of a heart-felt sympathy for all the wronged, all the victims of life; neither can he sternest-minded reader remain unperturbed by his high spirits and inexhaustible humour. Kindly emotion and irresistible humour, everywhere present, and always delightfully blended in the writing of Dickens are fused into a rich alloy -"the Dickensian charm" - by the novelist's supreme gift: his amazing imagination.