Frivolity and wit

In chapters 16 and 17 of 'Heretics', Chesterton discusses humor and people's attitude about it. First of all, he adamantly states that funny is not the opposite of seriousness. "Whether a man chooses to tell the truth in long sentences or short jokes is a problem analogous to the problem whether he chooses to tell the truth in French or German." Making a joke about something does not imply that one does not take the subject seriously, on the contrary.
Chesterton's next point is how the new 'scientific civilization' tends to destroy the 'democracy or power of the ordinary man'. Specialization is the evil here; Chesterton emphasizes that everyone needs to use frivolity (or dance, or any of his other examples) because it is in the nature of man.
A final Chestertonian observation is made about taking oneself too seriously: only 'third-rate men' take themselves to be superior: "If a man is genuinely superior to his fellows, the first thing he believes is in the equality of man." These men have  "too much in them of an ancient laughter even to endure to discuss the difference between the hats of the two men who were both born of a woman, or between the subtly varied cultures of two men who have both to die".

The institution of the family

In chapter 14 of 'Heretics', Chesterton attacks some modern thoughts about the family. The argument has some similarities to the discussion in chapter 3 about Kipling: people need to realize that a 'man who lives in a small community lives in a much larger world'. In a family, one cannot choose one's peers, so one really meets with different people. In a big society, cliques are formed and people have the possibility to minimize encounters with people who are significantly different. Traveling may widen our horizons, but it may also narrow down our interactions with our neighbors in our street.

We make our friends; we make our enemies; but God makes our next-door neighbor. Hence he comes to us clad in all the careless terrors of nature; he is as strange as the stars, as reckless and indifferent as the rain. He is Man, the most terrible of beasts. That is why the old religions and the old scriptural language showed so sharp a wisdom when they spoke, not of one's duty towards humanity, but one's duty towards one's neighbor.

Paganism

Chapter 12 of 'Heretics' discusses the modern notions about paganism. At times, I was reminded of 'The everlasting man', which Chesterton wrote years later. The relation between paganism and Christianity is mostly sequential, according to Chesterton: the one came after the other. Never again can we become like pagans, because we learned that we are living in a more complex world.
Christianity has adopted the pagan virtues, and has added three herself: faith, hope and charity. These virtues are paradoxical (charity will forgive the unforgivable); they are also the cause of the idea of romance. One more Christian virtue, which is definitely not pagan, is humility. The Christian realizes that he cannot enjoy life if he starts by enjoying himself: on the contrary, he needs to become less, in order to enjoy the wonders of the world. Chesterton concludes:

We cannot go back to an ideal of reason and sanity. For mankind has discovered that reason does not lead to sanity. We cannot go back to an ideal of pride and enjoyment. For mankind has discovered that pride does not lead to enjoyment. [-] If we do revive and pursue the pagan ideal of a simple and rational self-completion we shall end - where Paganism ended. I do not mean that we shall end in destruction. I mean that we shall end in Christianity.

Simplicity and science

For some weeks, I have every now and then read a few pages from 'Heretics'. In every chapter, Chesterton picks a new topic and argues why this specific point of view is 'heretical'. Several of these chapters discuss specific persons, others consider general ideas. Usually, he argues for 'plain thinking', or 'common sense'. The scientist, for example, who detaches himself from his study of man, tends to misunderstand a lot of things: 'for the secrets about which anthropologists concern themselves can be best learned, not from books or voyages, but from the ordinary commerce of man with man'.
The four pages on 'Sandals and simplicity' are Chesterton at his best: it discusses the impossibility of being 'proud of being simple and direct, and still remain simple and direct'. Chesterton argues against the followers of Tolstoy that 'the only kind of simplicity worth preserving is the simplicity of the heart, the simplicity which accepts and enjoys': 'there is more simplicity in a man who eats caviar on impulse than in the man who eats grape-nuts on principle'.
Chesterton contrasts this argued simplicity with 'plain thinking'. In this case, a child may be our best guide. A child can wonder equally about a tree and a lamppost, for 'both are splendid and unexplained'. He ends his discussion by quoting Matthew 6: "Take no thought what ye shall eat or what ye shall drink, or wherewithal ye shall be clothed. For after all these things do the Gentiles seek. But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you."

Stories about trifles

When I started 'Tremendous trifles', I was expecting more essays like the ones in 'All things considered'. The first two stories are quite different in nature, though. Both 'A piece of chalk' and 'The secret of a train' describe things that Chesterton experienced in daily life. They are small stories, in which Chesterton, as promised in the introduction, focuses on 'trifles'.
The stories themselves are quite readable, but the thing that interests me most at this moment is the insight view I get about the person of Chesterton himself. Though I am still reading a biography, these stories tell me something about his sudden impulses: doing nothing or going out to draw, drawing nature or drawing figures, taking the train or walking.

Charles Dickens, the last of the great men

Chesterton's eulogy of Charles Dickens is something more than a biography or a literary discussion, though it combines elements of both. Chapters two to nine roughly follow Dickens' life, without overwhelming the reader with dates and events. All of Dickens' main works are discussed, though some in less than one page.
Several general chapters, one and ten to twelve, discuss topics as Dickens' 'alleged optimism' in a purely Chestertonian manner: he points out that Dickens actually caused many reforms through insisting that  the poor man is both admirable and pitiable.
Chesterton assures us that Dickens will be remembered as (the?) one of the greatest writers of the nineteenth century; this book caused a renewed interest in Dickens. Dickens, who created unforgettable characters, will be remembered longer than realists, who described characters and happenings that were linked to a certain time and culture.
I enjoyed the book; perhaps I am most impressed by Chesterton's memory of dozens of minor characters from the different novels. I realize that my enjoyment of Dickens has been different than Chesterton's: I never appreciated all those comic and irrelevant characters as Chesterton does. It makes me read Dickens in a new way; Chesterton definitely helped me to broaden my view.

The great Dickens characters

I had expected that Chesterton would discuss various examples of Dickens' characters, but instead he takes a more general view of Dickens' creations. Charles Dickens, as well as Sir Walter Scott, are the great democratic writers of the nineteenth century, but they manifest this in opposite ways:

There are two things in which all men are manifestly unmistakably equal. They are not equally clever or equally muscular or equally fat, as the sages of the modern reaction (with piercing insight) perceive. But this is a spiritual certainty, that all men are tragic. And this, again, is an equally sublime spiritual  certainty, that all men are comic. No special and private sorrow can be so dreadful as the fact of having to die. And no freak or deformity can be so funny as the mere fact of having two legs. Every man is important if he loses his life; and every man is funny if he loses his hat, and has to run after it.

Dickens' great characters are usually common people; he finds inexhaustible opportunities in 'the liberty and variety of man'. 'It is the utterly unknown people, who can grow in all directions like an exuberant tree'. They may be fools, but they are 'great fools'.

 

Later life and works

In chapter IX of 'Charles Dickens, the last of the great men', Chesterton finishes the more-or-less chronological part of his book with a sequence of short discussions. It seems that the major developments in Dickens' life have started now, so we can discuss them topically, rather then strictly chronological.
Chesterton starts of with a description of Dickens' physique and original creative force, followed by a short mention of his religion and his political views. Public readings and an editorship consumed much of Dickens' time;  the later books followed the pattern that started with 'David Copperfield' and 'Bleak House': more realism, less exuberant caricatures. Chesterton recognizes several literary influences in this time, such as Wilkie Collins. The subsequent novels have more and more plot and become graver and more responsible: from 'Hard Times' to 'Little Dorrit' to the historical 'Tale of two cities', from 'Great expectations' to 'Our mutual friend' to the unfinished detective story 'The mystery of Edwin Drood'.
Even though the chronology ends with Dickens' death in 1870, there are three topical chapters left, in which Chesterton will discuss Dickens' characters, Dickens' optimism, and the future of Dickens.

The time of transition

Dickens, 'the last of the great men', experienced a marked transition between his early books and his later work. Chesterton discusses this transition from the 'last of a quite definite series, the early novels of Dickens', 'Dombey and Son', to 'David Copperfield' and 'Bleak House'. As Chesterton summarizes: 'Very coarsely, the case may be put by saying that he diminished, in the story as a whole, the practice of pure caricature. Still more coarsely it may be put in the phrase that he began to practice realism.'
Chesterton is not undividedly positive about this transition; though he admits that the later novels are in some aspects better than the first novels, he is no fan of realism per se. Nowhere is this more stressed than in his discussion of Dickens' most autobiographical work: 'David Copperfield'. He perceived

'that if an autobiography is really to be honest it must be turned into a work of fiction. If it is really to tell the truth, it must at all costs profess not to. [-] A touch of fiction is almost always essential to the real conveying of fact, because fact, as experienced, has a fragmentariness which is bewildering at first hand and quite blinding at second hand. Facts have at least to be sorted into compartments and the proper head and tail given to each. [-] Without this selection and completion our life seems a tangle of unfinished tales'. 

I would say that this same principle goes for all Dickens' realistic novels: in a sense, the character and the plot are 'exaggerated'; this is only done, however, so that we can better recognize these more universal characters and happenings.

Dickens, America, Italy and Christmas

Dickens' Englishness is the topic of chapters six and seven of Chesterton's eulogy. When Dickens travels to America, his English sensibilities are tried by American manners. He is repelled by the comfortable patriotism he witnesses everywhere. His impressions can be read both in his 'American notes' and in 'Martin Chuzzlewit'.
In Italy, too, Dickens remains an Englishman: while residing in the South, he wrote his tales about Christmas in England, full of fog and turkey and pudding. He describes 'the holy day which is really a holiday', 'the old European festival, Pagan and Christian', with 'that trinity of eating, drinking and praying which to moderns appears irreverent'.

The great popularity

Chapter five of 'Charles Dickens, the last of the great men', deals with Dickens' popularity after his publication of 'The Pickwick Papers'. The first point Chesterton makes is that one should not assume that popular books are necessarily bad books: the public does not have a bad taste, it just has a taste for a certain type of book, and Charles Dickens was a master in writing that type of book. As Chesterton notes: 'Dickens did not write what the people wanted. Dickens wanted what the people wanted.' Dickens appeals to the common man, both for his humor and his horror.
After this introduction, various early books are discussed. 'Oliver Twist' is dismissed as 'coherently and consistently horrible' (as opposed to the 'Pickwick Papers', which are 'coherently comic and consistently rambling'). 'Nicholas Nickleby' is praised as a typical book from this period, with some delightful characters. 'The old curiosity shop' could have been accompanied by 'The oil shop' and several other Dickensian romances beginning in various shops. Chesterton does not appear to be overly fond of the character of 'Little Nell'. The last book from this period is 'Barnaby Rudge' (which I began last week), supposedly a more 'picturesque' book.
These books are discussed quite fast; specific book discussions is not Chesterton's objective in this book (I understand that he wrote separate introductions to every novel by Dickens, for the 'Everyman's Library'). He rather uses a basic chronology to discuss some general topics (ie the quality of popular books, or the saintly characters of some of Dickens' heroines). As before, Chesterton is most enthusiastic when discussing Dickensian characters.

"The Pickwick Papers"

Dickens' first major work is, to be honest, one of my least favorite. Reading Chesterton's eulogy, in chapter four of 'Charles Dickens, the last of the great men', it turns out that Chesterton admires this sort-of-novel for precisely the reasons that I did not like it: its lack of beginning and end.
Chesterton admires Dickens' characters, not the plots of the individual novels. As he states this on page 60:

Dickens's work is not to be reckoned in novels at all. Dickens's work is to be reckoned always by characters, sometimes by groups, oftener by episodes, but never by novels. You cannot discuss whether "Nicholas Nickleby" is a good novel, or whether "Our mutual friend" is a bad novel. Strictly, there is no such novel as "Nicholas Nickleby." There is no such novel as "Our mutual friend." They are simply lengths cut from the flowing and mixed substance called Dickens - a substance of which any given length will be certain to contain a given proportion of brilliant and bad stuff. You can say, according to your opinions, "the Crummles part is perfect," or "the Boffins are a mistake," just as a man watching a river go by him could count here a floating tower, and there a streak of scum.

Chesterton emphasizes that the 'primary elements' of Dickens are not the stories, but 'the characters who do not affect the stories': those characters who could enter in any novel at any moment, without essentially affecting the storyline (e.g. Major Bagstock). 
The enormous familiarity with which Chesterton speaks of all these characters is impressing; moreover, I feel motivated to reread several books by Dickens, in the hope of finding similar delights as Chesterton obviously did.

The youth of Dickens

I just read chapter three in Chesterton's book on Dickens, discussing the years of Dickens' factory experiences, and the years thereafter. Chesterton describes how the young Charles walked through London, perhaps without consciously noting his surroundings, but all the time laying up a treasure of locations and characters on which he could draw in later years. For instance, he met Mrs. Pipchin.
Dickens was not completely miserable in these years: 'He was delighted at the same moment that he was desperate. The two opposite things existed in him simultaneously, and each in its full strength. His soul was not a mixed colour like grey and purple, caused by no component colour being quite itself. His soul was like a shot silk of black and crimson, a shot silk of misery and joy.'
When the family's fortunes turned, Dickens could go back to school; afterwards he became a clerk, a reporter, a journalist, a writer. He educated himself and proceeded with enormous intensity. Around the same time that he married, he published the first installment of the 'Pickwick Papers'.
One thing that surprised me in reading 'Charles Dickens, the last of the great men' are the parallels between Chesterton and Dickens: I had not realized that both were journalists in the beginning of their writing career. Both can exaggerate quite well, both have a sense of optimism and hope about them.

The boyhood of Dickens

Chesterton proceeds 'Charles Dickens, The last of the great men' with some chronological biographical notes. Chapter 2 is devoted to Dickens' boyhood: the happy time before his father went bankrupt and the difficult time afterwards, working in a factory.
Dickens was not an angelic child, as Little Nell in 'The old curiosity shop'. He was ambitious and used to being in the spotlight. His mind was formed by reading English classics that he found in a garret. His father, John Dickens, is later comically displayed in Micawber.
The factory-experience is somewhat touched upon in 'David Copperfield'; Dickens seldom spoke about it. Chesterton points out that this hard time did not make Dickens a pessimist: in fact, he is one of the more optimistic writers: "Charles Dickens, who was most miserable at the receptive time when most people are most happy, is afterwards happy when all men weep. Circumstances break men's bones; it has never been shown that they break men's optimism."

Dickens' greatness

The first chapter of 'Charles Dickens, The last of the great men', discusses Dickens' greatness. First, Chesterton points out why there are no 'great men' in our time: we have become to critical. Instead of becoming great ourselves, we constantly look for greatness. We lack that sense of democratic optimism that every man can become an extraordinary man.
Optimism is one of the eye-catching characteristics of Dickens: though his world, just after the French Revolution, may have been hard and cruel, there was still hope. In the late nineteenth century, this sense of hope and optimism was lost. The following discussion of how an optimist can change the world, while a pessimist cannot, mirrors a similar train of thought in one of the essays in 'All things considered'.
The appreciation of Dickens had suffered over time, partly because we moderns do not feel the hopefulness that permeates his books (in 'Dombey and son', Florence's constancy in loving her father is a good example of this optimism).

Dombey and Son

In preparation of reading Chesterton's book on Dickens, I decided to first read one of Dickens' novels. It was quite some years ago that I last read Dickens and I was pleasantly surprised. 'Dombey and Son' is a thick and rich novel, with a multitude of characters.
A couple of things struck me as characteristic of Dickens (as far as I remember): first a certain sentimentality in his description of Florence, the leading female character, and her brother. I remember being annoyed by the very long sentimental ending of 'The old curiosity shop', but in this book it is more palatable.
As I understand, the book was published in monthly installments, over more than a year. I also read very slowly, but this does not lessen the appreciation of the book. Sometimes, though, I wondered if Dickens himself knew beforehand where the plot would lead to.
Many of Dickens' characters are essentially good. Florence may be angelic, but Walter, Captain Cuttle, Uncle Sol, Mr. Toots, Susan Nipper, Miss Carker, Mrs. Richards, are all very good people (with some oddities). The one 'bad' person is duly punished; a few tormented persons repent in the end. All in all, one feels pretty good upon reading the end of the book.
Pride is the leading vice in Mr. Dombey, but as bad as this is, it is essentially an excess of a virtue (as Mr. Morfin points out). In the end, Mr. Dombey still has his chance of happiness; the same cannot be said for Edith. In women, the virtues of innocence and love are essential for happiness; Edith has neither.
One other interesting thing about this set of characters is they are a sort of universe in themselves: the same characters come back again in new roles (Mrs. Richards' being the most obvious of these, but in the end even the Blimbers come back).
One enjoyable surprise was Dickens' descriptions of passing time (the novel describes more than ten years): how the house changes with the time is beautifully rendered.
I plan to start Chesterton's book on Dickens tomorrow; I am curious what he has to say about this writer.

Wonder

I started 'Tremendous Trifles' today, another book filled with essays. The introduction is promising: Chesterton explains that, instead of taking the high ground and writing about big things, he will take a simple perspective and write about trifles: 'I will sit still and let the marvels and the adventures settle on me like flies. There are plenty of them, I assure you. The world will never starve for want of wonders; but only for want of wonder.'
Now that I am slowly becoming more acquainted with Chesterton's thought, I begin to see parallels in the different books: Rudyard Kipling is discussed in a similar manner both in the title essay of 'Tremendous trifles' as in 'Heretics'.