Dickens' Bicentenary, Happy Birthday, Chuckling

The chuckle with which he said this, and the chuckle with which he paid for the turkey, and the chuckle with which he paid for the cab, and the chuckle with which he recompensed the boy, were only to be exceeded by the chuckle with which he sat down breathless in his chair again, and chuckled till he cried.

This little scene, which takes place after Scrooge has been redeemed, is full of the kind of energy that would accompany a condemned man being pardoned from execution.  Scrooge has been given a second chance, and he's positively joyous about it.  It kicks off the last stave of the novel, and it's what the reader has been waiting to see:  Scrooge the Changed.

I chose this passage on this morning for multiple reasons.  First, because both of my posts yesterday were more than a little depressing.  Second, because I love the picture it paints of a man on the road to redemption.  Third, because I love seeing rich people being generous with their money.  Fourth, because I needed a chuckle myself.  Fifth, because I think the manic energy Scrooge displays pretty accurately reflects Dickens' own bipolar disposition.  And Sixth, today is the bicentenary of Dickens' birth (the Inimitable, as he liked to call himself, would have been 200 years old today).

As I would expect, this bicentenary is being/will be celebrated the world over for quite a few months, but especially in Dickens' beloved London.  I've always had a thing for Dickens.  I have a 1,200-page Dickens biography by Peter Ackroyd that I've read (I kid you not) four or five times.  I just really love the details of his life.  His dissolute father.  His obsession with his dead sister-in-law.  His social conscience.  His trips to the United States.  Everything.  However, the thing that really sells Charles Dickens to me is the fact that I'm convinced he suffered from bipolar disorder.

Dickens, mean and wild

The descriptions of his wild personality, coupled with his bouts of severe depression, seem to be pretty good indications that Chuck would have benefited from some lithium.  When he was in his creative/manic phases, he would write all day and then go for twenty-mile walks through London and the English countryside at night.  He used his manias to great effect, considering his creative output.  Novels.  Plays.  Essays.  He acted in the theater.  He gave hugely popular public readings near the end of his life and made tons of money.  He died of a stroke at the age of 58, having published 20 some novels, four short story volumes, tons of essays, and nine or so collections of plays/poetry/non-fiction.  Holy crap!

But Charles Dickens was not an easy man to live with.  As the spouse of a person with bipolar (and my wife takes medications), I can vouch for the fact that Mrs. Dickens did not have an easy life.  Mrs. Dickens, herself, suffered severe post-partum depressions (and she had a ton of kids), so life in the Dickens' household must have been quite the carnival.  In his latter years, Dickens abandoned his wife to take up with a much younger woman.  This fact just convinces me even more of Dickens' mental disease.  Considering how conscious he was of the public's perception of him, the impulsiveness of this sexual relationship fits right into the pattern of the illness.  Again, I speak from experience.

Creativity.  Impulsivity.  Proclivity to erratic moods.  That's the Charles Dickens not too many people are aware of.  However, on this day, the 200th anniversary of his birth, I will think of a different Dickens.  The one who crusaded for the rights of the poor and uneducated and incarcerated.  The one who redeemed Ebenezer Scrooge.  The one who probably chuckled till he cried on many occasions.

Saint Marty salutes the Inimitable.