Dombey and Son is a novel about pride and ambition. Paul Dombey, proud, wealthy, arrogant and frigid, is a man to whom the idea of "Dombey and Son" is paramount. There has always been a "Dombey and Son"; there will always be a "Dombey and Son". It is his whole world, his reason for being. Everything in his life is focused and directed towards this.
The full title of the book is Dealings with the Firm of Dombey and Son: Wholesale, Retail and for Exportation. Therefore the "son" of the title, although a real living person, is first and foremost an abstract concept, much as we are led to believe Paul Dombey senior himself had been to his own father, and so on, as far back as living memory allowed.
"The earth was made for Dombey and Son to trade in, and the sun and moon were made to give them light ... Common abbreviations took new meanings in his eyes, and had sole reference to them. A. D. had no concern with Anno Domini, but stood for anno Dombei - and Son."
The book starts with a defence of this character by Dickens himself, as part of the Preface from 1867, where he berates his earlier readers for "the confounding of shyness with arrogance", insisting that,
"Mr Dombey undergoes no violent change, either in this book, or in real life. A sense of his injustice is within him, all along. The more he represses it, the more unjust he necessarily is."
And although we despise Dombey Senior for his rigidity, his cold aloofness, his arrogance and pride, we see that he is the product of his class and time, and that any adapting of that initial "repression" as Dickens terms it, must represent a huge development in his character. This novel is partly about his eventual realisation and breaking out from such an inflexible mould. Dickens carefully inches Dombey along to more and more appallingly selfish acts, so that the reader comes to abominate the man's actions. Throughout he stays completely authentic and believable, even though at root Dombey is an honourable man. He is never a villain in the same mould as, for instance, his man of business the marvellously devious, scheming and manipulative wolf, Carker.
Once again we have a myriad of wonderful characters. James Carker is a moral thug who steals every scene in which he appears. He would shoot to the top of the tree of pantomime villains; a delight to read about with his,
"two unbroken rows of glistening teeth, whose regularity and whiteness were quite distressing. It was impossible to escape the observation of them, for he showed them whenever he spoke; and bore so wide a smile upon his countenance (a smile, however, very rarely, indeed, extending beyond his mouth), that there was something in it like the snarl of a cat."
Carker's beauteous teeth are mentioned no less than 69 times in the novel!
Dombey's little son Paul is, to use an expression of the the time, a strange old-fashioned boy. Dickens modelled him on his sister Fanny's crippled son Henry Burnett Junior. Paul's startling observations seem to indicate a wisdom, and perhaps a prescience, beyond his years. Coupled with his frailty, this increases our feelings of impending doom. Dombey also has a daughter, Florence, whom he ignores and despises. Her depiction is easily the most convincing "good" heroine he has created so far. She is virtuous, intelligent, hardworking, determined, modest and kind. In fact she has all the attributes Dickens admired in women. Yet unlike earlier female characters, she has what we would consider a "flaw". She feels guilt where there could not possibly be any. From a modern perspective then, she is very appealing. We do not like perfection.
Another character who appears later in the book is Edith Granger, a proud, bridling, passionate but penniless widow, and again, she is a very rounded and complex character, with nuances of ambition, confusion, bitterness, loathing and a kind of desperate love. Almost as many pages of this novel are devoted to female characters as to male characters, including the title character, Dombey himself. Florence and Edith together comprise much of this attention. Edith's mother Mrs. Skewton is a wonderfully monstrous creation, a sort of prototype for the much later Miss Havisham in "Great Expectations". But unlike her, she pimps out her daughter while she primps up herself.
As well as the great family of Dombey, there are other families whose kindness and warmth of their internal relationships provide a sharp contrast. There is young, good-hearted Walter Gay, his old salt-of-the-earth uncle Solomon Gills, a ship's instrument-maker, plus their friend the genial old Captain Cuttle. Captain Cuttle himself has an old seafaring friend called Captain Jack Bunsby, who is always called on in times of crisis for much-valued advice, although those around usually find such advice perplexing. Bunsby is hilariously described by Dickens as having,
"one stationary eye in the mahogany face, and one revolving one, on the principle of some lighthouses."
One cannot think of this family without thinking of Mrs. MacStinger, that fearsome harridan of a landlady, who terrifies the life out of Bunsby. The playing-out and denouement of their continuing saga, is both hilarious and satisfying, as it eventually weaves into another main theme. The strands in this novel are so subtly intertwined; the novel is superbly constructed.
This family represent to some extent the old world which is being left behind. The Toodle family, rosy-cheeked Polly - who has to become "Mrs Richards" in order to emphasise her position as nurse rather than her individuality, her "plump and apple-faced" husband, who later begins to work on the railway, plus all the little Toodles including their eldest rogue of a son Rob (the Grinder) represent the new world. There is Dombey's sister Louisa Chick, the only person to have any influence whatsoever over him, slight though it is, and whose byword seems to be "effort". Anything could be overcome by more effort. According to her, the fact that Dombey's first wife died during childbirth (at the beginning of the novel) - was due to her "not making an effort" - thus proving without a doubt that she was not a real Dombey, with the admirable Dombey marks of character.
There is Susan Nipper, initially an unpleasant and objectionable, waspish, sharp-tongued character, but as Florence's maid she proves to be a loyal and stout-hearted friend, who has the reader cheering from the sidelines when she tells some home truths to Paul Dombey. There is the gouty retired Major Joe Bagstock, put in for comic relief, as the objects of his amorous inclinations seem to change so very easily. Lucretia Tox too, switches her matrimonial attentions with equal alacrity - to our great entertainment once again. Another entertaining cameo role is played by Mrs Pipchin, the cantankerous operator of a boarding house in Brighton where Paul and Florence are sent for Paul's health. Never a comment goes by without her referring to her late husband, who had been killed 40 years earlier, in the Peruvian Mines. Dickens apparently modelled Mrs Pipchin on Mrs Roylance, who had been his landlady in London when his father was imprisoned for debt.
There is the grotesque witch "Good" Mrs Brown, in a frightening and shocking fairytale passage in the book which is extraordinarily redolent of "Hansel and Gretel" or "Baba Yaga". Incredibly unpleasant and bizarre, she is one of the few actual caricatures in the book. Yet she returns later on, more fully fleshed out, and is revealed to have a profound connection to the main storyline. There is the portly scholar Doctor Blimbers, his wife who, "was not learned herself, but she pretended to be, and that did quite as well" and the Doctor's daughter, the ghoulish Cornelia, "dry and sandy with working in the graves of deceased languages". Kind but misguided, their strenuous disciplined instructive routine in their cramming Academy causes their little pupils such long-term distress.
Minor characters add to the book's enjoyment. There is Toots, little Paul's scatterbrained classmate, who becomes the humble admirer of Florence, permanently worried about his absent-mindedness and addled brain. There are many more quirky characters dotted around the novel, and several subplots, such as the hidden mysterious secret between the Carker brothers. Why is Carker's older brother John called "the Junior" by James, having a low position at the firm of Dombey and Son, and why is he looked upon generally with scorn? There is the sister of both brothers, Harriet, who for some unknown reason has elected to live with this less successful brother, John. Then there is the feisty, aggressively enigmatic Alice Brown - what is her secret? There is the good-natured aristocrat cousin Feenix, who makes everything all right in the end, Doctor Parker Peps, Sir Barnet, Lady and Master Skettles and the wonderfully named Reverend Melchisedech Howler.
There are many more characters who come to mind, but I cannot leave the topic without mentioning Florence's only true friend and sole companion at one point, a scruffy mutt, Diogenes the dog,
"Come, then, Di! Dear Di! Make friends with your new mistress. Let us love each other, Di!' said Florence, fondling his shaggy head. And Di, the rough and gruff, as if his hairy hide were pervious to the tear that dropped upon it, and his dog's heart melted as it fell, put his nose up to her face, and swore fidelity ... Diogenes already loved her for her own, and didn't care how much he showed it. So he made himself vastly ridiculous by performing a variety of uncouth bounces in the ante-chamber, and concluded, when poor Florence was at last asleep, and dreaming of the rosy children opposite, by scratching open her bedroom door: rolling up his bed into a pillow: lying down on the boards, at the full length of his tether, with his head towards her: and looking lazily at her, upside down, out of the tops of his eyes, until from winking and winking he fell asleep himself, and dreamed, with gruff barks, of his enemy."
We have this absurdity, this humour. We have our entertainment, our mystery - and sometime our horror. And we also have, perhaps for the first time, literary gravitas.
For instance, the motif of Time constantly rears its head, with timepieces, clocks and watches, all present at decisive moments of the story. Another noticable device is the sea, waves, and running water. A sense of "waves", or a kind of unsteadiness often seeps into the story just as a character is delerious or beginning to be seriously ill, when an enormous eventful change is in the air, or some thing or idea is to be swept away. There is so much symbolism with ringing and bells tolling the death knell. There are both overt and subtle references to earlier literary works. Is it not deliberate that Dickens has created three witches in the novel? First comes the kidnapper and thief, the ogress "Good" Mrs Brown. The second is the abominable Mrs Skewton, whom Dickens facetiously refers to throughout as "Cleopatra" because of her artificiality. This description is of her as her maid attends to Mrs. Skewton's dress as she retires at night,
"... her touch was as the touch of Death. The painted object shrivelled underneath her hand; the form collapsed, the hair dropped off, the arched dark eyebrows changed to scanty tufts of grey; the pale lips shrunk, the skin became cadaverous and loose, an old, worn yellow, nodding woman, with red eyes, alone remained in Cleopatra's place, huddled up, like a slovenly bundle, in a greasy flannel gown."
What an eye! The third hag, is a fortune-teller, or tramp,
"a withered and very ugly old woman ... munching with her jaws, as if the Death's Head beneath her yellow skin were impatient to get out". Scowling, screaming, wrathful, and "going backwards like a crab, or like a heap of crabs: for her alternately expanding and contracting hands might have represented two of that species, and her creeping face some half-a-dozen more: crouched on the veinous root of an old tree, pulled out a short black pipe from within the crown of her bonnet, lighted it with a match, and smoked in silence, looking fixedly at her questioner."
This narrative complexity marks a subtle change and expertise in Dickens's novel-writing. Dombey and Son is a book which can be read on many levels.
During 1844 to 1847, the railways were starting to be developed, and the impact this has on London life is also a major aspect of the book. Several of the characters can been seen as representing one age or another. Dombey epitomises the older age of traditional values, stymied by the new exciting upcoming age which was to clear away the stuffiness with more opportunities for all. Yet this new age was also to impose mechanisation and a lack of individuality. Dickens sees it all, and see the faults inherent in both. His powerful descriptive passages describing the coming of the railroad to Camden Town, conjure up a hellish place,
""The first shock of a great earthquake had, just at that period, rent the whole neighbourhood to its centre. Traces of its course were visible on every side. Houses were knocked down; streets broken through and stopped; deep pits and trenches dug in the ground; enormous heaps of earth and clay thrown up; buildings that were undermined and shaking, propped by great beams of wood ... Hot springs and fiery eruptions, the usual attendants upon earthquakes, lent their contributions of confusion to the scene. Boiling water hissed and heaved within dilapidated walls; whence, also, the glare and roar of flames came issuing forth; and mounds of ashes blocked up rights of way"
Dombey and Son was Charles Dickens's seventh novel, published, as his earlier ones had been, in monthly parts initially, between Oct 1846 and Apr 1848. He was between 34 and 36 years old when he wrote it. The first parts were written in Lausanne, Switzerland, before Dickens returned to England, via Paris, to complete it. He also published one of his Christmas books, "The Battle Of Life", was directing and acting in various theatrical productions, and set up "Urania Cottage" (for "fallen women") with his friend the philanthropist Angela Burdett-Coutts, all within the space of time when he was writing Dombey and Son. As always, he was a literary dynamo, pushing himself to the absolute maximum.
Dickens asked his great friend, Hablot K. Browne, or "Phiz" to illustrate Dombey and Son. He was not sure how it would sell, as he had new publishers, Bradbury and Evans. As it turned out, he had been worrying quite needlessly. Before long the installments were selling at up to 40,000 copies a month. This was eight times as many as his main competitor, William Makepeace Thackeray, whose monthly installments of Vanity Fair were being issued by the same publisher, but only selling only 5000 copies a month at the most. Interestingly Vanity Fair is probably the more popular novel of the two nowadays. This is yet another example of how immensely popular Dickens was. He really could do no wrong in the public's eye.
Whenever considering a novel by Dickens it is always as well to bear in mind that what we now read in one book, was never read this way by the initial audience. It is serial fiction, and the structure has to take this into account. Those earlier readers may have forgotten a character or episode; equally, they may need a very dramatic or comic interlude to sustain their interest for the month ahead. This sort of imposed spasmodic reading is mostly alien to us now. Having said that, the writing is masterly. Dickens now has a much surer touch when describing his characters. Unlike Thackeray's or Trollope's, they range throughout the upper and lower classes, so that the reader gains a very clear picture of society in his time. There are fewer outright caricatures, but many outrageously funny ones. The female characters have far more depth than ever before, and the novel is devoted proportionally far more towards female characters.
Critics consider Dombey and Son to be Dickens's first artistically mature work. After this novel was published, his reputation had grown so much that he was by then considered a world class author. This is the first one for which he planned properly with notes to outline how the novel would progress. He called these notes "mems". All Dickens's novels up to this point had been created free-form, from a germ of a suggestion. Frequently they developed into something different from what the author originally had in mind, yet all are inspired pieces of writing.
It would be hard to say when Dickens first started to conform to what we now think of as a novelist, rather than an observant recorder of life, taking his inspiration from the notes he made on what happens in the street, brilliantly embellishing them and throwing in a few sarcastic diatribes on the way. Mental giant though he undoubtably was, his writing often strikes the readers as a series of momentary farces. With Dombey and Son Dickens had made it clear in his letters to his friend and mentor John Forster, that he had resolved to be a serious novelist. This novel is more consistent, and has a sounder structure, with less discursiveness in the middle seeming to go nowhere. It has themes and subplots to which he returns again and again. It has pathos which has more emotional appeal than before; nothing seems quite so frivolous.
"Nicholas Nickleby" had represented Dickens's first attempt at a true novel. In that there is the unforgettable portrayal of a school, "Dotheboys Hall" with its ogre of a headmaster Mr. Squeers. Yet that part of the book is merely an episode, albeit an inspired, hilarious, scandalous, hugely entertaining episode. Nothing which happens there affects the main character very much. On the contrary, the character Nicholas Nickleby seems to exist merely in order to tell us about Dotheboys Hall.
But when little Paul Dombey goes to Dr. Blimber's, we get a real sense of the characters there, the kindly but old-fashioned cramming teachers. Little Paul's pathos is highlighted not by extreme contrast with some exaggerated cartoon character, but by contrast with old dusty pedantry. There is a real sense of predestination and tragedy throughout. Paul's childish innocence and extraordinary wisdom is eventually perceived and appreciated by all, and his departure from that school is one of the most affecting parts of the book.
Dombey and Son has all the satirical indignation readers relish so in his early novels, but it has new shades of darkness and a new narrative complexity. There are so many nuances and grim metaphors. To take a tiny example, think of the loss of the Walter's ship "The Son and Heir", and think of an alternative applied meaning. After Dombey and Son were to come Dickens's greatest novels. These are darker still, and even his absurdity was to be more grave.
I did not weep for Little Nell, in "The Old Curiosity Shop", but I wept for little Paul, that wise child, with a philosophical air lifting him preternaturally out of his small body. I was in good company. When that episode was first published, the entire nation of England was apparently prostrated by grief. William Thackeray, in the middle of serialising his own novel, "Vanity Fair", was consumed with envy, expostulating,
“There’s no writing against such power as this - one has no chance!”
And that in itself, is a measure to me, of just how far Dickens's writing has by now gained in mastery and stature.