CHARACTERS IN FICTION
117
Or tum to
Ulysses.
Who would deny that Stephen Dedalus,
a straight character, seems less "real" than Mr. Bloom and Molly,
less "real" than his father, Mr. Dedalus? In what does this "real–
ity" consist? In the incorrigibility and changelessness of the
figure. Villains may reform, heroes and heroines may learn their
lesson, like Emma or Elizabeth or Mr. Darcy, or grow into the
author, like Stephen Dedalus and David Copperfield, but a Lady
Catherine de Bourgh or a Molly Bloom or a Mr. Dedalus, re–
gardless of resolutions, cannot reform or change, cannot be other
than they are. Falstaff is a species of eternity; that is why the
Hostess's description of his death is so poignantly sad, far sadder
than the pretty death of Ophelia, for Falstaff, according to the
laws of his creation, should not die. This was Queen Elizabeth's
opinion too when she demanded his resurrection and Shake–
speare obliged with
The Merry Wives of Windsor.
"Mortal men,
mortal men," Falstaff sighs speciously, but he himself is an im–
mortal, an everlasting, like Mr. and Mrs. Micawber who, when
last heard of, were still going strong in Australia. The same with
Mrs. Gamp, Pecksniff, Stepan ObIonsky, Monsieur Homais,
Stepan Trofimovitch, old Karamazov. Real characterization, I
think,
is seldom accomplished outside of comedy or without the
fixative of comedy: the stubborn pride of Mr. Darcy, the preju–
dice of Elizabeth, the headstrongness of Emma. A comic char–
acter, contrary to accepted belief, is likely to be more complicated
and enigmatic than a hero or a heroine, fuller of surprises and
turnabouts; Mr. Micawber, for instance, can find the most un–
expected ways of being himself; so can Mr. Woodhouse or the
Master of the Marshalsea. It is a sort of resourcefulness.
What we recognize as reality in these figures is their implac–
able resistance to change; they are what perdures or remains-–
the monoliths or plinths of the world. Pierre in
War and Peace
seems more real than Levin, his opposite number in
Anna Karen–
ina.
This
is because Pierre is fat-fat and awkward and wears
a funny-looking green civilian hat at the Battle of Borodino, like
a
sign
of his irreducible innocent stoutness. Thanks to a streak
