CHRISTMAS, DICKENS AND URIAH HEEP

At Christmas, my mind has turned to my collection of models of characters from Dickens. I'm hoping to write about them next year. Here is a start, a piece inspired by that 'umble 'servant from David Copperfield named Uriah Heep.

ON HUMILITY


“I’m a very umble man, Master Copperfield.”

So spoke Uriah Heep, who was busy ingratiating himself with David’s patron and Uriah’s employer, Mr. Wickfield.

In what seems to be a classic case of guilt by association, Uriah Heep has given the virtue of humility a bad name.

Recall the occasion of their first meeting, through the eyes of David Copperfield.

“It was no fancy of mine about his hands, I observed; for he frequently ground the palms against each other as if to squeeze them dry and warm, besides often wiping them, in a stealthy way, on his pocket-handkerchief.”

“I am well aware that I am the umblest person going,” said Uriah Heep modestly; “let the other person be where he may. My mother is likewise a very umble person. We live in a numble abode, Master Copperfield, but have much to be thankful for.”

Can humility ever be rescued from this connection with Uriah Heep? Will there arise a generation who know not Dickens and who might give humility a chance for restoration?

Humility has not always had a bad press.

Shakespeare has Henry V saying, in his stirring speech before Agincourt,

“In peace there is nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility.”

The Christian Scripture of James speaks of “the humility that comes from wisdom.” Perhaps there is a clue here. Is humility a by-product of wisdom, not something to be sought for its own sake?

From time to time we hear great men and women being extolled for their humility, although the word is often prefaced with the adjective “genuine’ as if the speaker is anxious to separate the genuine from the counterfeit.

Robert Southey also makes the distinction in describing a character in The Inchcape Rock.

“He passed a cottage with a double coach-house,
A cottage of gentility!
And he owned with a grin
That his favourite sin
Is pride that apes humility.”

We all know that sin, because we see it in ourselves. Have you never responded to a positive comment with a self-effacing reply which was really an invitation to the other to intensify their affirmation?

Does not the very fact that people pretend to be humble suggest that humility is recognized as a desirable virtue for all humans to possess?

If so, how then can the word be rescued from Uriah Heep’s malign influence? If humility is a quality to cherish, how might we cultivate it?

For a start we can look for it not so much in words but in actions. We will discover that those most richly endowed with humility are least aware of the fact and we are not likely to help them by telling them that they are humble.

We can seek wisdom, accepting that humility is likely to be a by-product of that search. If we ponder on the wise people we know, we are likely to see in them the quality of humility which our predecessors valued so highly.

We can read, and go on reading. Novels, history, biography, exploration : these all open our eyes to a wider world of reality, inspire, encourage and challenge us and help to make us aware of our unique but modest place in the whole scheme of things.

We can cultivate a sense of wonder. In The Phoenix, D.H Lawrence has a character exclaiming,“When the wonder has gone out of a man he is dead. When all comes to all, the most precious element in life is wonder.” It is a very small step from wonder to humility.

Patrick White’s experience of humility came unexpectedly and shows the strong link between humility and the ability to laugh at oneself.

“During what seemed like months of rain, I was carrying a trayload of food to a wormy litter of pups down at the kennels when I slipped and fell on my back, dog dishes shooting up in all directions. I lay where I had fallen, half-blinded by rain, under a pale sky, cursing through watery lips a God in whom I did not believe. I began laughing, finally, at my own helplessness and hopelessness, in the mud and stench from my filthy old oilskin. It was the turning point. My disbelief appeared as farcical as my fall. At that moment, I was truly humbled.”

Uriah Heep has shown us what not to be.

Perhaps we should forget about humility, keep our sense of humour and seek wisdom with a sense of wonder.