Wit and the Egoist

Once could cite several reasons that George Meredith's novel, The Egoist, has passed the test of time so well. However, to be even remotely accurate, any such discussions must make mention of Meredith's wit. Meredith himself had more than a few thoughts on the subject of wit, and worked to apply them in his fiction. For Wit is the sophisticated city cousin of the country bumpkin, Simple Humor. Anyone can make a lavatory joke and solicit a few hoary old guffaws, but wit has truth to it, a certain intellectual observation. Wit is an incisive comment, delivered with excellent timing. In this essay, we will examine how Meredith applies his theories of the abstract concept of "wit," and so solicits our thunderous laughter.

Take, for instance, this passage from early in the novel:

Susceptible to beauty, he had never seen so beautiful a woman as Constantia Durham. Equally susceptible to the admiration of himself, he consider Laetitia Dale a paragon of cleverness. He stood between the queenly rose and the modest violet.

We learn much about Sir Willoughby here, but note how Meredith conveys it. He might just as easily have said, straight and to the point, that Willoughby is a superficial and arrogant jackass, and that his only conflict here is between lust and vanity.

Yet Meredith dances around this in his use of language, as a matador might toy with a bull. He relates the situation in an unornamented, matter-of-fact sort of way, saying only that Willoughby is "susceptible to beauty." He also avoids such charged terms as "hubris," "arrogance," and the like in favor of "susceptible to admiration of himself." Meredith is a guide, not a literary tyrant; he lets the reader slide the final keystone into place, creating a pleasant sense of discovery and amusement.

As mentioned before, realism - truth, in essence - is key to wit. Meredith understood this, and so set out to strike a balance, one between humor and reality. His characters clearly reflect this. Sir Willoughby, for instance, is the source of much amusement throughout the novel; yet he isn't a simple caricature, existing only for the author to throw spitballs at. He is constructed as a real person, and few of us could honestly say that we've never met someone who might've reminded us a little bit of Sir Willoughby.

This key element is present in the plotting as well. Willoughby's bouncing between Constantia, Laetitia, and Clara is indeed ripe territory for comedy. Yet the plot isn't a simple, authorial hand-wave or an amalgamation of abstract craziness - it is an entirely reasonable and realistic situation, one which real people have presumably encountered before. This realism - this truth - can only add to our enjoyment. Rather than simply doing any cheap thing for a laugh, Meredith acts as a guide to the very real absurdity of the human condition.