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incoherent； woman abandoned without restraint to violence and temper；
woman feigning sensibilityin none of these ignominies is woman so
common； foul； and foolish for Dickens as she is in child… bearing。
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I named Leech but now。 He was； in all things essential； Dickens's
contemporary。 And accordingly the married woman and her child are
humiliated by his pencil； not grossly； but commonly。 For him she is
moderately and dully ridiculous。 What delights him as humorous is that
her husbandhimself wearisome enough to die ofis weary of her； finds
the time long； and tries to escape her。 It amuses him that she should
furtively spend money over her own dowdiness； to the annoyance of her
husband； and that her husband should have no desire to adorn her； and that
her mother should be intolerable。 It pleases him that her baby； with
enormous cheeks and a hideous rosette in its hata burlesque baby
should be a grotesque object of her love； for that too makes subtly for her
abasement。 Charles Keene； again another contemporary； though he
lived into a later and different time。 He saw little else than common
forms of human ignominy indignities of civic physique； of stupid
prosperity； of dress； of bearing。 He transmits these things in greater
proportion than he found themwhether for love of the humour of them；
or by a kind of inverted disgust that is as eager as delightone is not sure
which is the impulse。 The grossness of the vulgarities is rendered with a
completeness that goes far to convince us of a certain sensitiveness of
apprehension in the designer； and then again we get convinced that real
apprehensionreal apprehensivenesswould not have insisted upon such
things； could not have lived with them through almost a whole career。
There is one drawing in the Punch of years ago； in which Charles Keene
achieved the nastiest thing possible to even the invention of that day。 A
drunken citizen； in the usual broadcloth； has gone to bed； fully dressed；
with his boots on and his umbrella open； and the joke lies in the surprise
awaiting； when she awakes； the wife asleep at his side in a night…cap。
Every one who knows Keene's work can imagine how the huge well…fed
figure was drawn； and how the coat wrinkled across the back； and how the
bourgeois whiskers were indicated。 This obscene drawing is matched by
many equally odious。 Abject domesticity； ignominies of married life； of
middle…age； of money…making； the old common jape against the mother…
in…law； ill…dressed men with whiskyill…dressed women with tempers；
everything that is underbred and decivilised； abominable weddings： in
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The Rhythm of Life and Other Essays
one drawing a bridegroom with shambling sidelong legs asks his bride if
she is nervous； she is a widow； and she answers； 'No； never was。' In all
these things there is very little humour。 Where Keene achieved fun was
in the figures of his schoolboys。 The hint of tenderness which in really
fine work could never be absent from a man's thought of a child or from
his touch of one； however frolic or rowdy the subject in hand； is absolutely
lacking in Keene's designs； nevertheless； we acknowledge that here is
humour。 It is also in some of his clerical figures when they are not
caricatures； and certainly in 'Robert；' the City waiter of Punch。 But so
irresistible is the derision of the woman that all Charles Keene's persistent
sense of vulgarity is intent centrally upon her。 Never for any grace gone
astray is she bantered； never for the social extravagances； for prattle； or for
beloved dress； but always for her jealousy； and for the repulsive person of
the man upon whom she spies and in whom she vindicates her ignoble
rights。 If this is the shopkeeper the possession of whom is her boast； what
then is she？
This great immorality； centring in the irreproachable days of the
Exhibition of 1851； or thereaboutsthe pleasure in this particular form of
human disgracehas passed； leaving one trace only： the habit by which
some men reproach a silly woman through her sex； whereas a silly man is
not reproached through his sex。 But the vulgarity of which I have written
here was distinctively English the most English thing that England had
in days when she bragged of many anotherand it was not able to survive
an increased commerce of manners and letters with France。 It was the
chief immorality destroyed by French fiction。
End of Project Gutenberg's Etext of The Rhythm of Life by Alice
Meynell
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