Fragment 515

Notes on Dickens 6

When Dickens is writing from the heart, reaching for an emotional power of expression in his own voice, and succeeding in avoiding the baleful influence of Carlyle, his writing takes on a splendid power of rhythm. Here he is on the clock of St Paul’s:

Heart of London, there is a moral in thy every stroke! As I look on
at thy indomitable working, which neither death, nor press of life,
nor grief, nor gladness out of doors will influence one jot, I seem
to hear a voice within thee which sinks into my heart, bidding me,
as I elbow my way among the crowd, have some thought for the
meanest wretch that passes, and, being a man, to turn away with
scorn and pride from none that bear the human shape.

It’s in moments like this that Dickens is at his most Shakespearean. Look at this:

Heart of London,
There is a moral in thy every stroke!
As I look on at thy indomitable working,
Which neither death, nor press of life,
nor grief,
Nor gladness out of doors will influence one jot,
I seem to hear a voice within thee which
Sinks into my heart, bidding me,
As I elbow my way among the crowd,
Have some thought for the meanest wretch that passes,
And, being a man, to turn away
With scorn and pride from none that bear the human shape.

It’s iambic blank verse, generally pentameter, but occasionally alternating with tetrameter or hexameter: the rhythm of Shakespeare. It’s as if Dickens has absorbed Shakespeare’s influence to an extent where it seeps unnoticed into his writing.

Iambic pentameter is also the rhythm of natural spoken English. We produce iambic pentameter all the time without realizing it. Oliver has just said the following sentences as I write: I think I’ll just pop out and by some fags. I’m going to clean the bathroom after this.

Both writers employ the same means: at moments of specific power, they reach down into the natural rhythms of the language, the rhythms based on the breath and pulse of the spoken word.