"Although a skillful flatterer is a most delightful companion if you have him all to yourself, his taste becomes very doubtful when he takes to complimenting other people"
About this Quote
Dickens nails the grubby little paradox at the heart of social vanity: flattery feels like truth only when it feels exclusive. A “skillful flatterer” is “most delightful” not because he’s accurate, but because he’s calibrated - he delivers admiration with just enough craft to let you mistake it for insight. The moment he “takes to complimenting other people,” the spell breaks and what looked like discerning taste starts to look like a business model.
The line is doing two things at once. On the surface it’s a wry observation about companions and manners. Underneath, it’s an accusation aimed at the listener: your enjoyment of praise isn’t about virtue being recognized; it’s about status being confirmed. Dickens makes that self-indictment sting by shifting the problem away from the flatterer’s morals and onto his “taste.” That’s the joke with teeth: you pretend your concern is aesthetic refinement, when it’s really jealousy and the fear of being interchangeable.
Contextually, this sits comfortably in Dickens’s larger project: exposing the performance economy of respectable society, where sincerity is a costume and social life runs on soft bribery. Compliments, in that world, aren’t gifts; they’re currency. The “doubtful” taste isn’t the flatterer’s at all - it’s ours, revealed the second we realize we were never enjoying honesty, only being singled out.
The line is doing two things at once. On the surface it’s a wry observation about companions and manners. Underneath, it’s an accusation aimed at the listener: your enjoyment of praise isn’t about virtue being recognized; it’s about status being confirmed. Dickens makes that self-indictment sting by shifting the problem away from the flatterer’s morals and onto his “taste.” That’s the joke with teeth: you pretend your concern is aesthetic refinement, when it’s really jealousy and the fear of being interchangeable.
Contextually, this sits comfortably in Dickens’s larger project: exposing the performance economy of respectable society, where sincerity is a costume and social life runs on soft bribery. Compliments, in that world, aren’t gifts; they’re currency. The “doubtful” taste isn’t the flatterer’s at all - it’s ours, revealed the second we realize we were never enjoying honesty, only being singled out.
Quote Details
| Topic | Fake Friends |
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