The Old Curiosity Club discussion

Hello Fellow Curiosities,

This week’s reading adventure is mainly concerned with the first of several encounters Nell and her Grandfather have on their odyssey, namely the one with two men who run a Punch-and-Judy-show. Apparently, British Punch-and-Judy-shows were, and still, are somewhat different from the German equivalent, which is called Kasperletheater and which is often played for children. Unlike Punch, who seems to be a very ill-natured fellow, given to beating his wife, to ill-treating the baby and to committing acts of physical violence on people he meets, the German Kasper, though he looks exactly like Punch, is, at least in the plays I have ever seen, a representative of good forces, helping his Grandmother against such threats as the Crocodile, the Devil, the Witch and the Robber. But maybe, this is a recent development, and the 19th century German Kasperletheater was more like the English Punch-and-Judy-show? Are there any forms of that kind of theatre in your own countries, and what are they like?

But let’s turn to the story: The two wanderers reach a cemetery, which the narrator describes with Biblical language when he starts the chapter:

”The sun was setting when they reached the wicket-gate at which the path began, and, as the rain falls upon the just and unjust alike, it shed its warm tint even upon the resting-places of the dead, and bade them be of good hope for its rising on the morrow.”

This sounds like a passage from Matthew to me, and it made me ask myself whether Dickens’s language might not contain more allusions to or quotations from the Holy Bible whenever we witness the adventures of Little Nell. Maybe, this is a thing to keep an eye on? There is a similar passage a few lines further down when a horse is eating the grass from between the graves, and the narrator comments on it saying that this is what all flesh must come to.

For the moment, however, our two wanderers and we readers are spared any more reflections on the caducity of human life because Little Nell and her Grandfather come across two men sitting amongst the headstones, with glove puppets and all sorts of paraphernalia spread around them. Interestingly, Punch himself is perched on a tombstone behind the two men, one of whom is

“a little merry-faced man with a twinkling eye and a red nose, who seemed to have unconsciously imbibed something of his hero’s character. The other – that was he who took the money – had a rather careful and cautious look, which was perhaps inseparable from his occupation also.”

The first man’s name is actually Mr. Harris – maybe, he is the husband or the brother of Mrs. Gamp’s legendary friend? – but he is generally called Short Trotters or Mr. Short, and the other man’s name is Thomas Codlin. What role might those two play with regard to the journey of our two heroes? We quickly learn that Mr. Short is perceptive – he immediately notices that the two travellers are short of money – but also genial and welcoming, whereas his companion is more of a morose, grumbling and pessimistic man, which makes him appear rather philosophical. Mr. Codlin regards the arrival of the two travellers somewhat coolly and with reservation, but his friend engages in a conversation with them quickly, telling them that they mend their puppets on the cemetery instead of at the inn where they are put up because otherwise, potential spectators would be put off.

”’Would you care a ha’penny for the Lord Chancellor if you know’d him in private and without his wig? – certainly not.’”

This rather subversive comparison may lead us to one of the general motifs of the novel – the difference between what things (and persons) seem and what they are. Just like Grandfather Trent’s scheme of winning a fortune for Nell may just be a castle-in-the-air, and what it really is is the excuse of a compulsive gambler. And, talking about appearances and realities, what can we make of the two itinerant showmen? Is Mr. Short really as nice as he seems? Or, when inviting them to go to the pub with them (apparently much against Mr. Codlin’s gusto, does he follow a plan?

Grandfather Trent seems to be thrown into childish delight by the mere sight of the puppets. What do you think – is he still compos mentis? Or is his fascination for the puppets a sign of his gullibility, of his being the real child of the two wanderers?

In the public house, the showmen and the girl and her grandfather are warmly welcomed by the landlord and his wife, who seem especially prepossessed by the girl and her beauty. After some refreshments, the two men start their show, and no one laughs louder and more vehemently that our Grandfather. It should also be noted that once again, Little Nell will not touch any of the food before her Grandfather has partaken of it, which reinforces the impression of a mother looking after her very young child.

After supper and when everyone else has gone to sleep, Little Nell looks through a chink in the wall outside on the old church and the graves, and she also decides to hide a gold coin from the little money they have left by sewing it up in her dress – in case it may be needed one day.

Chapter 17 starts with another graveyard scene when Little Nell, early next morning, when everybody else is still asleep, decides to take a walk among the graves. Why should such a young girl have taken such a liking for the melancholy cemetery? The chapter starts mirthfully enough, viz.

”Another bright day shining in through the small casement, and claiming fellowship with the kindred eyes of the child, awoke her.”

Again, by the way, Little Nell is presented as a child, and although their situation is anything but promising – they don’t know really where they are heading and their means are but limited – Nell starts her day “hoping and trustful”. Yet, her way is towards the cemetary, where she indulges her “curious kind of pleasure in lingering among these houses of the dead, and read[ing] the inscriptions on the tombs”. What makes Little Nell such a morbid girl?

It does not take long before Little Nell comes across an old woman who tells her that she is the wife of a man who died three-and-twenty and whose body is interred in that place. “’Death doesn’t change us more than life, my dear’” is what the old woman tells Little Nell when she finds that the girl is surprised at so old a woman once having been married to so young a man – maybe, we should keep these words in mind for we might understand parts of the novel better with them? The old lady tells the girl how she at first was very sad and desperate when her husband died but how visiting his grave became “a solemn pleasure, and a duty she had learned to like” as time went by.

In a way, this cemetery scene and the encounter there do not seem to be linked with the actual plot, but maybe they are supposed to show that Little Nell is learning something about life. What could it be she learns?

Back at the inn, Little Nell finds everyone wide awake, and Mr. Short informs his two new friends that they are going to the races because there they are sure to find a large and thankful audience for their shows. He says that if they want they are welcome to accompany them, much to Mr. Codlin’s chagrin and disgust, and while Nell is hesitant about the suggestion, her Grandfather jumps at it like a child. It is also quite interesting to notice how Mr. Codlin divides the expenses incurred at the inn, namely by splitting the bill into two equal parts (including the ale he has drunk alone).

On the road, Mr. Short leads the way, only laden with a flat box, whereas Mr. Codlin brings up the rear, carrying the bulk of their possessions. The two runaways are in the middle. Whenever they come into a village or town, they play their show, with Mr. Codlin deciding about the length of the performance according to the prospective gains that are to be made from the respective audiences. What does this little detail tell us about the two showmen and their art? About show business and the stage in general?

Finally, when the company is resting along the wayside, they witness the advent of a group of gaunt giants – whom Little Nell is quite terrified of, at first, but who finally turn out to be members of another show group. In the ensuing conversation Mr. Grinder, the head of the company, says they are going to the races but take a shortcut. Unlike Mr. Short, however, Mr. Codlin is determined to follow the road he has chosen and to spend the night at The Jolly Sandboys, and he gives short shrift to the whole discussion by packing up his things and resuming his way, saying that if they want to follow him they may, and if they don’t they needn’t. Is this Mr. Codlin’s way of asserting his position over Mr. Short, or might he have a special reason for putting up at the inn? Or for trying to get rid of the Grinders?

By the way, which of the two – Short or Codlin – seems to be the owner of the show to you?

Mr. Codlin has such a large lead over his partner and our two runaways that he is the first one to arrive in Chapter 18 and at The Jolly Sandboys, which is described as “a small road-side inn of pretty ancient date”. In my Penguin edition, there is even a note as to what the name of that inn signifies, and since the note is quite amusing, I will include it here:

”Sand was sold for scouring, as a floor cover to absorb liquids, and for bird cages. Sandboys were proverbially happy people, as indeed they might be in 1840 when they could buy a load of about 2 ½ tons for 3s. 6d. (17 ½ p), and take £6 or £7 in a morning (Mayhew, London Labour and London Poor, 1851, ii, 90-91). During the century, sawdust tended to replace sand for floors in gin-palaces, butchers and public houses and, by 1851, those in the trade were much less happy.”

Mr. Codlin, however is quite happy, if such a vulgar thing can be said about him, at the sight of the large iron cauldron, simmering on the hearth and spreading an appetizing smell. The landlord does everything he can to intensify Mr. Codlin’s appetite, and soon that usually so misanthropic philosopher has been warmed by the fire, and some beneficial beverage that a spirit of amiability enters his mind and when he looks out of the window against which the rain is drumming, he “more than once expressed his earnest hope that they would not be so foolish as to get wet.” However, when the three travellers arrive, it is obvious that they did not have the presence of mind Mr. Codlin would have wished them to possess but that they did get wet, a lot. Let it be noted, though, that Mr. Short did his best to shelter Little Nell as much from the rain as he managed, which also says a lot about his personality. Soon after their arrival, the warmth in the parlour exerts its soporific effect on Little Nell and her Grandfather, and the landlord asks the two showmen about the two sleepers. Now Mr. Short explains that he thinks it is obvious the old man has lost his mind and that he is trying to run away from some friends or relatives (or keepers?). Short thinks that he must have inveigled Little Nell into accompanying him. Therefore, he intends to keep an eye on the two because he is “not a-going to see this fair young child a falling into bad hands, and getting among people that she's no more fit for, than they are to get among angels as their ordinary chums.’” Consequently, as soon as they are making signs of parting company with him, he will take measures to keep them back and to find out who might be looking for them. Mr. Codlin now falls in, saying that this is not too bad an idea and that there might be a reward waiting for those who restore the Grandfather and the little girl to their family and that such a reward should be shared amongst the two, Codlin and Short, who are partners in everything. Mr. Short agrees with a quick nod before Little Nell wakes up again.

Anyway, the attention of the company is directed into a new direction by the arrival of further guests – a line of dogs, dressed in coats and other garments, and their master, a man called Jerry. Obviously, there are more showmen attracted by the races, and neither Mr. Short nor Mr. Codlin evince any surprise at seeing Jerry and his dogs at all. What might the growing number of showmen mean with regard to Little Nell and her Grandfather?

Chapter 19 picks up the action where its precursor left it off, and in the original arrangement of instalments, there would have been a week’s pause between Chapters 18 and 19. As the guestroom of The Jolly Sandboys is filling with more and more showpeople, one of whom is a certain Mr. Vuffin, the “owner” of a giant. As all the carnies know each other quite well, they soon engage in casual conversation with each other, and this leads to some of the finest passages in The Old Curiosity Shop, at least as far as we have got by now. Here are some passages from their conversation, showing Dickens’s imagination at its most grotesque and exuberant:

”’How’s the Giant?’¬ said Short, when they all sat smoking round the fire.

‘Rather weak upon his legs,’ returned Mr Vuffin. ‘I begin to be afraid he’s going at the knees.’

‘That’s a bad look-out,’ said Short.

‘Aye! Bad indeed,’ replied Mr Vuffin, contemplating the fire with a sigh. ‘Once get a giant shaky on his legs, and the public care no more about him than they do for a dead cabbage stalk.’

‘What becomes of old giants?’ said Short, turning to him again after a little reflection.

‘They’re usually kept in carawans to wait upon the dwarfs,’ said Mr Vuffin.”

Mr. Vuffin goes on telling about a giant who would not succumb to serving the dwarfs and instead wanted to survive by carrying coach-bills about London – whatever that is – and who died, much to Mr. Vuffin’s grim satisfaction. We also learn about one particularly vicious dwarf – no, not Quilp, but maybe one of his ancestors? – who used to giddy-up slow and old giants serving at tables by stabbing pins into their calves. These stories are funny in their own sombre way, but maybe they mean something more since they tell us about “used-up giants” – I found the expression “used-up” very striking in this context as though we did not have to do with human beings but with resources – who are kept inside caravans so as not to spoil the business and who have to do menial work. Apart from the surrealism of the situation, can we maybe see it as more than a coincidence that Quilp is often called a dwarf by the narrator, and that here apparently giants who are too old and too weak to contribute to a show any longer are kept as servants to dwarfs?

When Little Nell and her grandfather retire to bed eventually, it does not take long until they hear Mr. Codlin outside their door, and when he sticks his nose inside their room, he tells them:

”’I’m your friend. Perhaps you haven’ thought so, but it’s me that’s your friend – not him.’

‘Not who?’ the child inquired.

‘Short, my dear. I tell you what,’ said Codlin, ‘for all his having a kind of way with him that you’d be very apt to like, I’m the real, open-hearted man. I mayn’t look it, but I am indeed.’”

This is surely an interesting turn of events, but are we to believe Mr. Codlin? Is he really better than he seems – the way that Kit turns out more and more of a sound and reliable young man, despite his initial behaviour at the old shop? Is Mr. Short a swindler, and Mr. Codlin the one who really watches over the two travellers? Or is neither of the two men really to be trusted? What that we know about their former behaviour may serve us as a clue to the degree of their trustworthiness? After all, Mr. Codlin’s adjurations seem, to say the least, ambiguous, for example when he says “’You can’t think what an interest I have in you.’” Is the interest merely the expectation of a reward to be received on restoring Nell and her Grandfather to the authorities? Codlin also seems keen on ensuring that it is he who will appear as Nell’s friend, possibly with a view to winning favour with Nell’s potential family members, because he says: “’Will you bear that in mind, my dear, and always say that it was me that way your friend?’”

To make matters even more puzzling, some time after Codlin has retired, there is another voice at the keyhole, this time the one of Mr. Short, who warns the two runaways that they’ll have to be up early next morning because they have to get the better of all the company downstairs by arriving at the races first in order not to find the pastures grazed. So, even Mr. Short makes sure that Nell and her Grandfather are still there. After breakfast next morning, they all continue their journey, and Little Nell soon finds out that the two men, for all their employment with regard to the show, keep a steady eye on their two new companions, and that Mr. Codlin, too, who has at first been quite eager to get rid of them and discourage them from joining them, has his jealous eyes rest on her grandfather.

When the two showmen are asleep, Little Nell warns Old Trent that soon they will have to give the two men the slip because they are certainly up to something, and Old Trent is, of course, very worried at the prospect of being separated from his grand-daughter. He even wails that they “’will shut me up in a stone room, dark and cold, and chain me up to the wall, Nell – flog me with whips, and never let me see thee more.’”

What do you think of the grandfather’s words here? Of course, in the early decades of the 19th century they still had barbaric methods of what they considered a treatment of mental diseases, but is the old man’s reaction not a bit overblown? Apart from that, is it not ruthless and egoistic to talk like that to a young girl, casting the responsibility for one’s own fate on her weak shoulders that way, and scaring her into the bargain? To put it bluntly, would it not be better in the long run for Little Nell to be separated from her grandfather after all?

A last remark may be allowed on the change of scenery that is indicated as soon as the company reach the racing town: We find some allusions made to gambler and gambling, which does not bode too well for Old Trent and Little Nell. Apart from that, how would you take a sentence like this, referring to showpeople and their trade:

”The dancing-dogs, the stilts, the little lady and the tall man, and all the other attractions, with organs out of number and bands innumerable, emerged from the holes and corners in which they had passed the night, and flourished boldly in the sun.”

Or what’s to be said about all the pretty ladies who see Little Nell’s pretty face (outward appearance) and fail to notice that she is hungry and in despair? – Be that as it may, as soon as an opportunity for escape offers, Little Nell and her Grandfather run away, directly across the sacred racing course …

This week’s final chapter takes us back to Kit again, who is engaged in talking with his mother about the topic lying closest to his heart, viz. Little Nell and when she and her Grandfather will finally come back. Kit’s hope is that this will be very soon for they have already been away for one week, and to Kit it seems improbable that they will tarry any further. His mother, however, tells him that he has been disappointed quite often already and that it may well be that they have gone abroad – for good? After all, she continues, it is rumoured that the old man had stored away some gold and that he has taken it away with them.

Apparently, Kit’s mother, too, finds it likely that the old man was deeper than most people gave him credit for. Do you think that this might be a sign of how the influence of Quilp – his own propensity to underhandedness leading him to suspect it in others, and his general distrust – spreads on people in the Grandfather’s vicinity? Or does Kit’s mother just try to convince Kit that it is better to abandon his hopes?

While we are still ruminating over these questions, Kit suddenly remembers that a week ago he promised Mr. Garland to be at his disposal in front of Mr. Witherden’s office in order to work out the shilling he was given the first time he held Whisker’s bridle. In consequence, he betakes himself to the Notary’s house and arrives just in time to perform his service. Everyone there, Mr. and Mrs. Garland, the Notary and his dogsbody Mr. Chuckster is surprised at Kit’s conscientiousness, and they all keep looking out of the window to see Kit performing his duty. While they are watching the boy, I may throw in two more questions, namely

a) Why does Kit get on so well with Whisker whereas other people seem to have slight difficulties?
b) Would you look with distrust at a boy like Kit, who is apparently so over-eager to perform a duty, or would you see it as a mark of good character? After all, it could all be cunning, couldn’t it?

After a while, Mr. Chuckster has to relieve Kit from his duty – probably at some expense to Mr. Chuckster’s self-esteem, but we don’t know for sure – so that the young man can go inside and submit himself to a short cross-examination on the part of Mr. Witherden, at the end of which it is established that he must be an honest boy. In the course of that examination, Kit reacts quite aggressively, or self-assertively, at the question whether his mother had married again after her first husband’s death, which made me ask myself first of all what Kit’s father died of – do we ever get to know the particulars? – and then why it would be so scurrilous a question to ask for the Notary: After all, many a widow would marry again in those days, and why would Kit jump so much at the mere notion of it?

Mr. Garland notes down Kit’s address, and soon everyone is ready for departure. By the way, the parents have come to fetch their poor, helpless son and take him home. – What further plot developments might lie in this chapter, which seems to establish a closer connection between Kit and the Garlands? And how will the latter ever come into Little Nell’s way?

Just an observation... Many modern novels start out with disparate story lines that eventually fuse together later in the book. John Grisham is a prime example. I often read them and wonder when and how the two (or more) stories are going to link up. Dickens, on the other hand, here and in Nickleby, starts the story with the characters interacting, and then follows them all separately when situations arise that cause them to split up. I prefer Dickens' way.

First Sikes, and now Jerry. I don't like people who treat dogs badly. :-(

I wonder if any of Jerry's dogs will play a pivotal role in TOCS, like Bullseye did in OT.

Tristram, you touched on the two things I'd made note of as I read: Grandfather's descriptive fears, and the giants.

Trent's fears hearken back (or, more accurately, forward) to Betty Higden. But it doesn't sound to me as if Trent is describing a workhouse. I'm callous for thinking it, let alone saying it out loud, but it seems like it wouldn't be a bad thing to leave Grandfather under a tree to fall into a permanent slumber.

The giants and Vuffin are not unlike Codlin and Short. And the two pair of them remind me of Elvis and Colonel Tom Parker (who wasn't an actual colonel). I guess it's like show business everywhere -- there's the talent, and there's the business guy. It's a symbiotic relationship, but I think the talent often gets the short end of the stick. Anecdotal history would tell us not to trust the business guy, and I think that's true here, of Codlin and Vuffin.

What a freak show this is, quite literally. How sad it must have been to have to exploit one's deformity in order to make a living. But I suppose it brought like people together where they could have a built in support group. All in all, could have been worse for them.

It would have been fun if Dickensian had had this bunch in with the circus people in Hard Times.

Tristram wrote: "Grandfather Trent seems to be thrown into childish delight by the mere sight of the puppets. What do you think – is he still compos mentis?

I think he is one of the most annoying people wandering around with no where to go on earth. I think rather than admit it is his fault they are where they are, he decided to give up and just let Little Nell take care of everything, knowing she will do it. I think he only lost his mind, so to speak, after he couldn't get any more money from Quilp. I think if he still had money they would still be at the Curiosity shop and he'd still be going out at night gambling not sitting in the grass in a cemetery laughing at the puppets. It's an act. He may not realize it's an act, but it is. Just reading the book nice and slow gives me more time to concentrate on good old grandpa and wish we could just speed read past his part of the story.

It should also be noted that once again, Little Nell will not touch any of the food before her Grandfather has partaken of it, which reinforces the impression of a mother looking after her very young child.

I'm not sure if I'm more annoyed with Little Nell making sure he is fed before she will touch the food, or at him for eating the food before she does.

Just when I started wondering why Dickens hadn't introduced a motherly figure to show Nell some kindness, he turns around and does it. It was a fleeting interaction, but I can't help but think we'll see the woman again.

Tristram wrote: "After supper and when everyone else has gone to sleep, Little Nell looks through a chink in the wall outside on the old church and the graves, and she also decides to hide a gold coin from the little money they have left by sewing it up in her dress – in case it may be needed one day."

Yeah, knowing what's coming with that makes me angry once again. :-)

Tristram wrote: "By the way, the parents have come to fetch their poor, helpless son and take him home."

I think it's sweet of them, perhaps he may end up married to Little Nell someday, she can take care of him.

Wow... many of you seem to have a visceral dislike for poor Abel Garland, about whom we really know very little. This is a second or third reading for some of you, so I'm assuming that this reaction is somehow deserved, but for now I'm trying to keep an open mind. So far he just seems like a bit of a milquetoast mama's boy, if anything. Obviously, I'll have to keep my eye on this character!

Abel's relationship with his parents does remind me of Pet Meagles, and we know that her parents' overprotective, if kind, nature didn't do her any favors.

We're at the point in the novel where Dickens introduces lots of side characters. I tend to have trouble remembering who's who at this point, so the Wikipedia summary with the list of characters is useful. Beware, though, it has spoilers.

I don't understand why the giants have to serve the dwarfs. What a surreal scene!

Mr. Codlin is unsettling. Saying to Nell repeatedly, "I'm your friend," in a demanding voice is not a good way to make a friend. Nell is right to be suspicious of him and Mr. Short.

Tristram wrote: "To put it bluntly, would it not be better in the long run for Little Nell to be separated from her grandfather after all?"

Yes, for sure. Grandfather's comment to Nell about being taken away, chained, and whipped is too scary and inappropriate for a dependent child to hear. Reminds me of his fishing tactics in Chapter One, when he asked Little Nell if she loves him. Grandfather is needy, manipulative, and only thinks of himself, not Nell's feelings or comfort. I don't like either that Nell doesn't eat until he eats first. Yes, his mental state is declining, but not to the point that he can't feed himself. Their relationship is a game, not real love.

Kim wrote: "I'm not sure if I'm more annoyed with Little Nell making sure he is fed before she will touch the food, or at him for eating the food before she does.“

Ah, once again you are slightly annoyed with Little Nell. I dare say you are making more and more progress ;-)

Mary Lou wrote: "Just an observation... Many modern novels start out with disparate story lines that eventually fuse together later in the book. John Grisham is a prime example. I often read them and wonder when an..."

An interesting observation, Mary Lou. Maybe, if a novel starts by establishing various plot strands and bringing them together by and by, the novelist has to plan carefully in advance. Two Dickens novels that fit into this pattern are, for instance, Bleak House and Our Mutual Friend. If I remember correctly, when reading OMF some Curiosities even started wondering when there would finally appear any connections between all those different characters :-) Both of these novels are later works of Dickens, and I think it‘s no coincidence that NN and OMF, as well as PP, started with one set of characters and a gradually widening scope of action and scenes.

I think I like both patterns, as long as they are done with skill, and well ... Dickens has got the skill, hasn‘t he ;-)

There is much swirling about in these chapters. I agree with Tristram that there seems to be allusions to the Bible embedded throughout the novel to date, and I won’t be surprised if they continue. We should be on the lookout for them.

Nell does seem to be attracted to cemeteries doesn’t she? Dickens creates a somber tone with these encounters (which is expected) but as I read between the lines it seems there are lessons that Nell is learning about the nature of life and death.

Allisa’s comment about the giants serving the dwarfs and how that seems surreal I think is key to the overall tone and mood of the novel. To me, the novel is full of dreamscapes, visions and surreal events. The novel in many places seems removed from the day-to-day functions of life, unless, of course, Dickens’s subtext is that what we perceive around us has more than one level of interpretation. We need to see below the surface, into the subconscious world we inhabit. In many ways, fairy tales present our subconscious world to us in a manner that is both simple and palatable.

Mary Lou wrote: "Just an observation... Many modern novels start out with disparate story lines that eventually fuse together later in the book. John Grisham is a prime example. I often read them and wonder when an..."

Mary Lou

Yes. Dickens does seem to work out from a central ignition point of character. To me, this allows for more creativity since he can add characters as he sees fit to create a rather bulging novel that can present many characters in surprising combinations. It’s almost like a Lego novel. Snap and fashion from a base and build outward.

Peter wrote: "There is much swirling about in these chapters. I agree with Tristram that there seems to be allusions to the Bible embedded throughout the novel to date, and I won’t be surprised if they continue...."

Yes, there is a particularly dreamlike quality about this novel, and once again I cannot help mentioning the movie Night of the Hunter. Reading this novel (and watching Laughton‘s movie) in a way makes me feel like a child again - like a child who enjoys a bitter-sweet-gruesome fairytale.

Tristram wrote: "Peter wrote: "There is much swirling about in these chapters. I agree with Tristram that there seems to be allusions to the Bible embedded throughout the novel to date, and I won’t be surprised if ..."

Yes. “Bitter-sweet-grusome fairytale” sums the novel up very well.

Punch In The Churchyard

Chapter 16

Phiz

Text Illustrated:

The sun was setting when they reached the wicket-gate at which the path began, and, as the rain falls upon the just and unjust alike, it shed its warm tint even upon the resting-places of the dead, and bade them be of good hope for its rising on the morrow. The church was old and grey, with ivy clinging to the walls, and round the porch. Shunning the tombs, it crept about the mounds, beneath which slept poor humble men: twining for them the first wreaths they had ever won, but wreaths less liable to wither and far more lasting in their kind, than some which were graven deep in stone and marble, and told in pompous terms of virtues meekly hidden for many a year, and only revealed at last to executors and mourning legatees.

The clergyman’s horse, stumbling with a dull blunt sound among the graves, was cropping the grass; at once deriving orthodox consolation from the dead parishioners, and enforcing last Sunday’s text that this was what all flesh came to; a lean ass who had sought to expound it also, without being qualified and ordained, was pricking his ears in an empty pound hard by, and looking with hungry eyes upon his priestly neighbour.

The old man and the child quitted the gravel path, and strayed among the tombs; for there the ground was soft, and easy to their tired feet. As they passed behind the church, they heard voices near at hand, and presently came on those who had spoken.

They were two men who were seated in easy attitudes upon the grass, and so busily engaged as to be at first unconscious of intruders. It was not difficult to divine that they were of a class of itinerant showmen—exhibitors of the freaks of Punch—for, perched cross-legged upon a tombstone behind them, was a figure of that hero himself, his nose and chin as hooked and his face as beaming as usual. Perhaps his imperturbable character was never more strikingly developed, for he preserved his usual equable smile notwithstanding that his body was dangling in a most uncomfortable position, all loose and limp and shapeless, while his long peaked cap, unequally balanced against his exceedingly slight legs, threatened every instant to bring him toppling down.

In part scattered upon the ground at the feet of the two men, and in part jumbled together in a long flat box, were the other persons of the Drama. The hero’s wife and one child, the hobby-horse, the doctor, the foreign gentleman who not being familiar with the language is unable in the representation to express his ideas otherwise than by the utterance of the word ‘Shallabalah’ three distinct times, the radical neighbour who will by no means admit that a tin bell is an organ, the executioner, and the devil, were all here. Their owners had evidently come to that spot to make some needful repairs in the stage arrangements, for one of them was engaged in binding together a small gallows with thread, while the other was intent upon fixing a new black wig, with the aid of a small hammer and some tacks, upon the head of the radical neighbour, who had been beaten bald.

Nelly, kneeling down beside the box, was soon busily engaged in her task, and accomplishing it to a miracle.

Chapter 16

Charles Green

Scenes and Characters from the Works of Charles Dickens

Text Illustrated:

‘Good!’ said the old man, venturing to touch one of the puppets, and drawing away his hand with a shrill laugh. ‘Are you going to show ‘em to-night? are you?’

‘That is the intention, governor,’ replied the other, ‘and unless I’m much mistaken, Tommy Codlin is a calculating at this minute what we’ve lost through your coming upon us. Cheer up, Tommy, it can’t be much.’

The little man accompanied these latter words with a wink, expressive of the estimate he had formed of the travellers’ finances.

To this Mr Codlin, who had a surly, grumbling manner, replied, as he twitched Punch off the tombstone and flung him into the box, ‘I don’t care if we haven’t lost a farden, but you’re too free. If you stood in front of the curtain and see the public’s faces as I do, you’d know human natur’ better.’

‘Ah! it’s been the spoiling of you, Tommy, your taking to that branch,’ rejoined his companion. ‘When you played the ghost in the reg’lar drama in the fairs, you believed in everything—except ghosts. But now you’re a universal mistruster. I never see a man so changed.’

‘Never mind,’ said Mr Codlin, with the air of a discontented philosopher. ‘I know better now, and p’raps I’m sorry for it.’

Turning over the figures in the box like one who knew and despised them, Mr Codlin drew one forth and held it up for the inspection of his friend:

‘Look here; here’s all this judy’s clothes falling to pieces again. You haven’t got a needle and thread I suppose?’

The little man shook his head, and scratched it ruefully as he contemplated this severe indisposition of a principal performer. Seeing that they were at a loss, the child said timidly:

‘I have a needle, Sir, in my basket, and thread too. Will you let me try to mend it for you? I think I could do it neater than you could.’

Even Mr Codlin had nothing to urge against a proposal so seasonable. Nelly, kneeling down beside the box, was soon busily engaged in her task, and accomplishing it to a miracle.

While she was thus engaged, the merry little man looked at her with an interest which did not appear to be diminished when he glanced at her helpless companion. When she had finished her work he thanked her, and inquired whither they were travelling.



Little Nell meets Codlin and Short

Chapter 16

Charles Green

Little Nell and her Grandfather

Chapter 16

Felix O. C. Darley

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The sun was setting when they reached the wicket-gate at which the path began, and, as the rain falls upon the just and unjust alike, it shed its warm tint even upon the resting-places of the dead, and bade them be of good hope for its rising on the morrow. The church was old and grey, with ivy clinging to the walls, and round the porch. Shunning the tombs, it crept about the mounds, beneath which slept poor humble men: twining for them the first wreaths they had ever won, but wreaths less liable to wither and far more lasting in their kind, than some which were graven deep in stone and marble, and told in pompous terms of virtues meekly hidden for many a year, and only revealed at last to executors and mourning legatees.

The clergyman's horse, stumbling with a dull blunt sound among the graves, was cropping the grass; at once deriving orthodox consolation from the dead parishioners, and enforcing last Sunday's text that this was what all flesh came to; a lean ass who had sought to expound it also, without being qualified and ordained, was pricking his ears in an empty pound hard by, and looking with hungry eyes upon his priestly neighbour.

The old man and the child quitted the gravel path, and strayed among the tombs; for there the ground was soft, and easy to their tired feet. As they passed behind the church, they heard voices near at hand, and presently came on those who had spoken.

Commentary:

Synthesizing two of the original serial illustrations, Phiz's The Pilgrimage Begins for chapter 12 and Punch in the Churchyard for chapter 16, Darley has captured the precise moment when Nell and grandfather enter the country churchyard, and before they see the Punch and Judy showmen, Codlin and Short, as they make good their escape from London and the hideous dwarf, Quilp.

Despite Nell's being synonymous with Victorian sentimentality — and vastly popular — on both sides of the Atlantic, eschewing sentimentality and cloying "prettiness," Darley has depicted her as a real, albeit perceptive child. On the other hand, he captures well the grandfather's aphasia, explaining his incapacity and his having to be shepherded by his own grandchild, reversing or inverting the normal order of things. The characters are isolated in an atmospheric setting, complete, however, with the clergyman's horse in the rear and wreaths on the tombs, one of which the grandfather appears to be contemplating. Darley's figures, drawn in the round and in proportion, are very different from the original caricatures of Hablot Knight Browne and George Cattermole in the original serial. Darley's realistic treatment may also owe something to both the 1867 Diamond Edition illustrations of Sol Eytinge, Jr. and the 1876 the Anglo-American Household Edition illustrations of Charles Green.

The Punch and Judy Scene at the Inn

Chapter 16

Artist unknown 1900

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The public-house was kept by a fat old landlord and landlady who made no objection to receiving their new guests, but praised Nelly’s beauty and were at once prepossessed in her behalf. There was no other company in the kitchen but the two showmen, and the child felt very thankful that they had fallen upon such good quarters. The landlady was very much astonished to learn that they had come all the way from London, and appeared to have no little curiosity touching their farther destination. The child parried her inquiries as well as she could, and with no great trouble, for finding that they appeared to give her pain, the old lady desisted.

‘These two gentlemen have ordered supper in an hour’s time,’ she said, taking her into the bar; ‘and your best plan will be to sup with them. Meanwhile you shall have a little taste of something that’ll do you good, for I’m sure you must want it after all you’ve gone through to-day. Now, don’t look after the old gentleman, because when you’ve drank that, he shall have some too.’

As nothing could induce the child to leave him alone, however, or to touch anything in which he was not the first and greatest sharer, the old lady was obliged to help him first. When they had been thus refreshed, the whole house hurried away into an empty stable where the show stood, and where, by the light of a few flaring candles stuck round a hoop which hung by a line from the ceiling, it was to be forthwith exhibited.

And now Mr Thomas Codlin, the misanthrope, after blowing away at the Pan’s pipes until he was intensely wretched, took his station on one side of the checked drapery which concealed the mover of the figures, and putting his hands in his pockets prepared to reply to all questions and remarks of Punch, and to make a dismal feint of being his most intimate private friend, of believing in him to the fullest and most unlimited extent, of knowing that he enjoyed day and night a merry and glorious existence in that temple, and that he was at all times and under every circumstance the same intelligent and joyful person that the spectators then beheld him. All this Mr Codlin did with the air of a man who had made up his mind for the worst and was quite resigned; his eye slowly wandering about during the briskest repartee to observe the effect upon the audience, and particularly the impression made upon the landlord and landlady, which might be productive of very important results in connexion with the supper.

Upon this head, however, he had no cause for any anxiety, for the whole performance was applauded to the echo, and voluntary contributions were showered in with a liberality which testified yet more strongly to the general delight. Among the laughter none was more loud and frequent than the old man’s. Nell’s was unheard, for she, poor child, with her head drooping on his shoulder, had fallen asleep, and slept too soundly to be roused by any of his efforts to awaken her to a participation in his glee.

Grinder's Lot

Chapter 17

Phiz

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They had stopped to rest beneath a finger-post where four roads met, and Mr Codlin in his deep misanthropy had let down the drapery and seated himself in the bottom of the show, invisible to mortal eyes and disdainful of the company of his fellow creatures, when two monstrous shadows were seen stalking towards them from a turning in the road by which they had come. The child was at first quite terrified by the sight of these gaunt giants—for such they looked as they advanced with lofty strides beneath the shadow of the trees—but Short, telling her there was nothing to fear, blew a blast upon the trumpet, which was answered by a cheerful shout.

‘It’s Grinder’s lot, an’t it?’ cried Mr Short in a loud key.

‘Yes,’ replied a couple of shrill voices.

‘Come on then,’ said Short. ‘Let’s have a look at you. I thought it was you.’

Thus invited, ‘Grinder’s lot’ approached with redoubled speed and soon came up with the little party.

Mr Grinder’s company, familiarly termed a lot, consisted of a young gentleman and a young lady on stilts, and Mr Grinder himself, who used his natural legs for pedestrian purposes and carried at his back a drum. The public costume of the young people was of the Highland kind, but the night being damp and cold, the young gentleman wore over his kilt a man’s pea jacket reaching to his ankles, and a glazed hat; the young lady too was muffled in an old cloth pelisse and had a handkerchief tied about her head. Their Scotch bonnets, ornamented with plumes of jet black feathers, Mr Grinder carried on his instrument.

Commentary:

Upon the whole we think the "Curiosity Shop" very much the best of the works of Mr. Dickens. It is scarcely possible to speak of it too well. It is in all respects a tale which will secure for its author the enthusiastic admiration of every man of genius.

The edition before us is handsomely printed, on excellent paper. The designs by Cattermole and Browne are many of them excellent- some of them outrageously bad. Of course, it is difficult for us to say how far the American engraver is in fault. In conclusion, we must enter our solemn protest against the final page full of little angels in smock frocks, or dimity chemises. - Edgar Allan Poe

At The Jolly Sandboys

Chapter 18

Phiz

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The Jolly Sandboys was a small road-side inn of pretty ancient date, with a sign, representing three Sandboys increasing their jollity with as many jugs of ale and bags of gold, creaking and swinging on its post on the opposite side of the road. As the travellers had observed that day many indications of their drawing nearer and nearer to the race town, such as gipsy camps, carts laden with gambling booths and their appurtenances, itinerant showmen of various kinds, and beggars and trampers of every degree, all wending their way in the same direction, Mr Codlin was fearful of finding the accommodations forestalled; this fear increasing as he diminished the distance between himself and the hostelry, he quickened his pace, and notwithstanding the burden he had to carry, maintained a round trot until he reached the threshold. Here he had the gratification of finding that his fears were without foundation, for the landlord was leaning against the door-post looking lazily at the rain, which had by this time begun to descend heavily, and no tinkling of cracked bell, nor boisterous shout, nor noisy chorus, gave note of company within.

‘All alone?’ said Mr Codlin, putting down his burden and wiping his forehead.

‘All alone as yet,’ rejoined the landlord, glancing at the sky, ‘but we shall have more company to-night I expect. Here one of you boys, carry that show into the barn. Make haste in out of the wet, Tom; when it came on to rain I told ‘em to make the fire up, and there’s a glorious blaze in the kitchen, I can tell you.’

Mr Codlin followed with a willing mind, and soon found that the landlord had not commended his preparations without good reason. A mighty fire was blazing on the hearth and roaring up the wide chimney with a cheerful sound, which a large iron cauldron, bubbling and simmering in the heat, lent its pleasant aid to swell. There was a deep red ruddy blush upon the room, and when the landlord stirred the fire, sending the flames skipping and leaping up—when he took off the lid of the iron pot and there rushed out a savoury smell, while the bubbling sound grew deeper and more rich, and an unctuous steam came floating out, hanging in a delicious mist above their heads—when he did this, Mr Codlin’s heart was touched. He sat down in the chimney-corner and smiled.

Mr Codlin sat smiling in the chimney-corner, eyeing the landlord as with a roguish look he held the cover in his hand, and, feigning that his doing so was needful to the welfare of the cookery, suffered the delightful steam to tickle the nostrils of his guest. The glow of the fire was upon the landlord’s bald head, and upon his twinkling eye, and upon his watering mouth, and upon his pimpled face, and upon his round fat figure. Mr Codlin drew his sleeve across his lips, and said in a murmuring voice, ‘What is it?’

‘It’s a stew of tripe,’ said the landlord smacking his lips, ‘and cow-heel,’ smacking them again, ‘and bacon,’ smacking them once more, ‘and steak,’ smacking them for the fourth time, ‘and peas, cauliflowers, new potatoes, and sparrow-grass, all working up together in one delicious gravy.’ Having come to the climax, he smacked his lips a great many times, and taking a long hearty sniff of the fragrance that was hovering about, put on the cover again with the air of one whose toils on earth were over.

"Now, gentlemen," said Jerry, looking at them attentively, "the dog whose name's called, eats"

Chapter 18

Charles Green

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The landlord now busied himself in laying the cloth, in which process Mr Codlin obligingly assisted by setting forth his own knife and fork in the most convenient place and establishing himself behind them. When everything was ready, the landlord took off the cover for the last time, and then indeed there burst forth such a goodly promise of supper, that if he had offered to put it on again or had hinted at postponement, he would certainly have been sacrificed on his own hearth.

However, he did nothing of the kind, but instead thereof assisted a stout servant girl in turning the contents of the cauldron into a large tureen; a proceeding which the dogs, proof against various hot splashes which fell upon their noses, watched with terrible eagerness. At length the dish was lifted on the table, and mugs of ale having been previously set round, little Nell ventured to say grace, and supper began.

At this juncture the poor dogs were standing on their hind legs quite surprisingly; the child, having pity on them, was about to cast some morsels of food to them before she tasted it herself, hungry though she was, when their master interposed.

‘No, my dear, no, not an atom from anybody’s hand but mine if you please. That dog,’ said Jerry, pointing out the old leader of the troop, and speaking in a terrible voice, ‘lost a halfpenny to-day. He goes without his supper.’

The unfortunate creature dropped upon his fore-legs directly, wagged his tail, and looked imploringly at his master.

‘You must be more careful, Sir,’ said Jerry, walking coolly to the chair where he had placed the organ, and setting the stop. ‘Come here. Now, Sir, you play away at that, while we have supper, and leave off if you dare.’

The dog immediately began to grind most mournful music. His master having shown him the whip resumed his seat and called up the others, who, at his directions, formed in a row, standing upright as a file of soldiers.

‘Now, gentlemen,’ said Jerry, looking at them attentively. ‘The dog whose name’s called, eats. The dogs whose names an’t called, keep quiet. Carlo!’

The lucky individual whose name was called, snapped up the morsel thrown towards him, but none of the others moved a muscle. In this manner they were fed at the discretion of their master. Meanwhile the dog in disgrace ground hard at the organ, sometimes in quick time, sometimes in slow, but never leaving off for an instant. When the knives and forks rattled very much, or any of his fellows got an unusually large piece of fat, he accompanied the music with a short howl, but he immediately checked it on his master looking round, and applied himself with increased diligence to the Old Hundredth.

The Giants Waiting on the Dwarfs

Chapter 19

Phiz

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‘What becomes of old giants?’ said Short, turning to him again after a little reflection.

‘They’re usually kept in carawans to wait upon the dwarfs,’ said Mr Vuffin.

‘The maintaining of ‘em must come expensive, when they can’t be shown, eh?’ remarked Short, eyeing him doubtfully.

‘It’s better that, than letting ‘em go upon the parish or about the streets,’ said Mr Vuffin. ‘Once make a giant common and giants will never draw again. Look at wooden legs. If there was only one man with a wooden leg what a property he’d be!’

‘So he would!’ observed the landlord and Short both together. ‘That’s very true.’

‘Instead of which,’ pursued Mr Vuffin, ‘if you was to advertise Shakspeare played entirely by wooden legs, it’s my belief you wouldn’t draw a sixpence.’

‘I don’t suppose you would,’ said Short. And the landlord said so too.

‘This shows, you see,’ said Mr Vuffin, waving his pipe with an argumentative air, ‘this shows the policy of keeping the used-up giants still in the carawans, where they get food and lodging for nothing, all their lives, and in general very glad they are to stop there. There was one giant—a black ‘un—as left his carawan some year ago and took to carrying coach-bills about London, making himself as cheap as crossing-sweepers. He died. I make no insinuation against anybody in particular,’ said Mr Vuffin, looking solemnly round, ‘but he was ruining the trade;—and he died.’

The landlord drew his breath hard, and looked at the owner of the dogs, who nodded and said gruffly that he remembered.

‘I know you do, Jerry,’ said Mr Vuffin with profound meaning. ‘I know you remember it, Jerry, and the universal opinion was, that it served him right. Why, I remember the time when old Maunders as had three-and-twenty wans—I remember the time when old Maunders had in his cottage in Spa Fields in the winter time, when the season was over, eight male and female dwarfs setting down to dinner every day, who was waited on by eight old giants in green coats, red smalls, blue cotton stockings, and high-lows: and there was one dwarf as had grown elderly and wicious who whenever his giant wasn’t quick enough to please him, used to stick pins in his legs, not being able to reach up any higher. I know that’s a fact, for Maunders told it me himself.’

Little Nell's Anxiety

Chapter 19

Phiz

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‘Grandfather, don’t look at those I talk of, and don’t seem as if I spoke of anything but what I am about. What was that you told me before we left the old house? That if they knew what we were going to do, they would say that you were mad, and part us?’

The old man turned to her with an aspect of wild terror; but she checked him by a look, and bidding him hold some flowers while she tied them up, and so bringing her lips closer to his ear, said—
‘I know that was what you told me. You needn’t speak, dear. I recollect it very well. It was not likely that I should forget it. Grandfather, these men suspect that we have secretly left our friends, and mean to carry us before some gentleman and have us taken care of and sent back. If you let your hand tremble so, we can never get away from them, but if you’re only quiet now, we shall do so, easily.’

‘How?’ muttered the old man. ‘Dear Nelly, how? They will shut me up in a stone room, dark and cold, and chain me up to the wall, Nell—flog me with whips, and never let me see thee more!’

‘You’re trembling again,’ said the child. ‘Keep close to me all day. Never mind them, don’t look at them, but me. I shall find a time when we can steal away. When I do, mind you come with me, and do not stop or speak a word. Hush! That’s all.’

Commentary:

The frantic pace involved in illustrating a weekly rather than a monthly publication, the effect of employing various engravers, and the other work Phiz had in hand at the time, the results are of surprisingly high quality, although the engravers did seem to have trouble with facial expressions. Phiz frequently seemed to treat the medium as if he expected the results to equal those obtained by etching, but the engravers often obliged by providing as subtle shading as can be produced by the method. In this respect the results are generally more successful than those achieved by his co-illustrator. Phiz was notably more skillful than Cattermole in dealing with human figures close up, and even his worst engraver, C. Gray, could not always drag him down to his level of crudity.

Although many of Browne's early cuts for The Old Curiosity Shop are somewhat caricatured, comic portrayals of characters, his Quilp is a notable creation. Less has been said in favor of his Nell, but compared to Cattermole's, who is either a wax doll or barely visible, Browne makes us believe in the "cherry-cheeked, red-lipped" child Quilp describes so lecherously, and yet the artist never loses the pathos of Nell's situation — indeed, it could be argued that Phiz's Nell is more flesh and blood than Dickens'. Phiz seems to have transcended the rigidity of figure which characterized his virtuous females in Nicholas Nickleby.

There was but one lady who seemed to understand the child, and she was one who sat alone in a handsome carriage

Chapter 19

Charles Green

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As the morning wore on, the tents assumed a gayer and more brilliant appearance, and long lines of carriages came rolling softly on the turf. Men who had lounged about all night in smock-frocks and leather leggings, came out in silken vests and hats and plumes, as jugglers or mountebanks; or in gorgeous liveries as soft-spoken servants at gambling booths; or in sturdy yeoman dress as decoys at unlawful games. Black-eyed gipsy girls, hooded in showy handkerchiefs, sallied forth to tell fortunes, and pale slender women with consumptive faces lingered upon the footsteps of ventriloquists and conjurors, and counted the sixpences with anxious eyes long before they were gained. As many of the children as could be kept within bounds, were stowed away, with all the other signs of dirt and poverty, among the donkeys, carts, and horses; and as many as could not be thus disposed of ran in and out in all intricate spots, crept between people’s legs and carriage wheels, and came forth unharmed from under horses’ hoofs. The dancing-dogs, the stilts, the little lady and the tall man, and all the other attractions, with organs out of number and bands innumerable, emerged from the holes and corners in which they had passed the night, and flourished boldly in the sun.

Along the uncleared course, Short led his party, sounding the brazen trumpet and revelling in the voice of Punch; and at his heels went Thomas Codlin, bearing the show as usual, and keeping his eye on Nelly and her grandfather, as they rather lingered in the rear. The child bore upon her arm the little basket with her flowers, and sometimes stopped, with timid and modest looks, to offer them at some gay carriage; but alas! there were many bolder beggars there, gipsies who promised husbands, and other adepts in their trade, and although some ladies smiled gently as they shook their heads, and others cried to the gentlemen beside them ‘See, what a pretty face!’ they let the pretty face pass on, and never thought that it looked tired or hungry.

There was but one lady who seemed to understand the child, and she was one who sat alone in a handsome carriage, while two young men in dashing clothes, who had just dismounted from it, talked and laughed loudly at a little distance, appearing to forget her, quite. There were many ladies all around, but they turned their backs, or looked another way, or at the two young men (not unfavourably at them), and left her to herself. She motioned away a gipsy-woman urgent to tell her fortune, saying that it was told already and had been for some years, but called the child towards her, and taking her flowers put money into her trembling hand, and bade her go home and keep at home for God’s sake.

Little Nell Selling Flowers On The Racecourse

Chapter 19

Unknown illustrator Caxton Publishing c1900

Text Illustrated:

Along the uncleared course, Short led his party, sounding the brazen trumpet and revelling in the voice of Punch; and at his heels went Thomas Codlin, bearing the show as usual, and keeping his eye on Nelly and her grandfather, as they rather lingered in the rear. The child bore upon her arm the little basket with her flowers, and sometimes stopped, with timid and modest looks, to offer them at some gay carriage; but alas! there were many bolder beggars there, gipsies who promised husbands, and other adepts in their trade, and although some ladies smiled gently as they shook their heads, and others cried to the gentlemen beside them ‘See, what a pretty face!’ they let the pretty face pass on, and never thought that it looked tired or hungry.

There was but one lady who seemed to understand the child, and she was one who sat alone in a handsome carriage, while two young men in dashing clothes, who had just dismounted from it, talked and laughed loudly at a little distance, appearing to forget her, quite. There were many ladies all around, but they turned their backs, or looked another way, or at the two young men (not unfavourably at them), and left her to herself. She motioned away a gipsy-woman urgent to tell her fortune, saying that it was told already and had been for some years, but called the child towards her, and taking her flowers put money into her trembling hand, and bade her go home and keep at home for God’s sake.

Many a time they went up and down those long, long lines, seeing everything but the horses and the race; when the bell rang to clear the course, going back to rest among the carts and donkeys, and not coming out again until the heat was over. Many a time, too, was Punch displayed in the full zenith of his humour, but all this while the eye of Thomas Codlin was upon them, and to escape without notice was impracticable.

Peter, this one's for you.

Then there is this, if you know what is going on, good for you, if you don't, don't ask me.

Kim wrote: "Peter, this one's for you.

"

Kim

I will look at the other illustrations and comment later. For now, however, what can I say ... thank you for unearthing this illustration. For so long I have felt alone in my world of Dickens and birds!

:-)

Kim wrote: "Little Nell and her Grandfather

Chapter 16

Felix O. C. Darley

Text Illustrated:

The sun was setting when they reached the wicket-gate at which the path began, and, as the rain falls upon the ju..."

Thank you Kim.

The first illustrations which show us Little Nell and her grandfather in the graveyard reinforce the phrase in the commentary “reversing or inverting the normal order of things.” Nell is leading her father; she is active and he is passive. What is also striking and reinforces the reversing and inverting the “normal order of things” is the incongruity of itinerant showman with their props situated in a graveyard. In this instance the dead become the audience of the players and their props. The somber nature of death is juxtaposed with the gaiety and life of the performing arts. Through the illustrations Dickens’s descriptions become visual, animated, and projected towards the reader.

Kim wrote: "Little Nell's Anxiety

Chapter 19

Phiz

Text Illustrated:

‘Grandfather, don’t look at those I talk of, and don’t seem as if I spoke of anything but what I am about. What was that you told me befo..."

It is interesting to see how the various illustrators approach similar sections and paragraphs. The illustrations that support the text “There was but one lady who seemed to understand the child ... and bade her go home and keep at home for God’s sake” complement each other so well. Dickens tells us that while she was in a carriage the men she came with had moved away and then we read that the lady says her fortune has already been told. Wow! Dickens at his best with those suggestive few words.

With the illustrations the meaning of the situation pops out at the viewer very strongly. What will Little Nell become if she continues on her present path of begging for money? The lady in the carriage knows that her moments of grandeur are measured. She is trying to save Nell from the type men she has shared the carriage. Shades of Sir Mulberry Hawk.

Has it struck anyone yet that we are in the midst of quests? Oliver leaves London on foot. Nicholas leaves London by coach and returns on foot (or was it coach?). And Nell and grandpa leave London on foot. What's up with this? What's dickens saying about London?

Grandpa's growing on me like a wart? Anyone else?

Xan Shadowflutter wrote: "Has it struck anyone yet that we are in the midst of quests? Oliver leaves London on foot. Nicholas leaves London by coach and returns on foot (or was it coach?). And Nell and grandpa leave London ..."

Hi Xan

My general theory of Dickens is that he takes a young child, sends him/her away from their place or origin, thrusts them into the world where they learn to first survive, and then thrive. Once they have found success, the person returns (almost always) to their place of origin. In a nutshell, this is Joseph Campbell’s theory of the Monomyth..

I once read that there were two overriding structures in novels. The first tells the story of the person who leaves their place of origin and enters into a world of challenge. The second was the recurring story of the mysterious stranger who comes into a town and thus ignites and disrupts what was once a reasonably stable place.

It is too simplistic to reduce novels this much ... but also, I think, curiously accurate at the same time.

Peter wrote: "Xan Shadowflutter wrote: "In a nutshell, this is Joseph Campbell’s theory of the Monomyth.."

Ah, yes I had forgotten you had discussed the Myth of the Hero. And I had forgotten Nicholas's second trip out of London, his real quest, the one he leaves London on foot.

I have read Campbell's The Power of Myth, and I have The Hero With a Thousand Faces, but have yet to read it. I'm a fan of mythology -- the Creation myths, the Fertility Myths (favorite -- Telpenu), the Hero Myths. Dickens is sending his heroes on quests.

Star Wars is not just SF, it is the Myth of the Hero.

Xan Shadowflutter wrote: "Peter wrote: "Xan Shadowflutter wrote: "In a nutshell, this is Joseph Campbell’s theory of the Monomyth.."

Ah, yes I had forgotten you had discussed the Myth of the Hero. And I had forgotten Nicho..."

Xan

Yes. Campbell’s The Hero With a Thousand Faces has been a companion in my reading for some time. I wonder what Campbell would think of all the Marvel movies these days? I suspect he would smile and say “of course.”

Peter wrote: "I once read that there were two overriding structures in novels. The first tells the story of the person who leaves their place of origin and enters into a world of challenge. The second was the recurring story of the mysterious stranger who comes into a town and thus ignites and disrupts what was once a reasonably stable place."

I can't remember who pointed out that these are actually the same story, but from different perspectives.

Mary Lou wrote: "It would have been fun if Dickensian had had this bunch in with the circus people in Hard Times..."

I'm reading Hard Times for a class simultaneously with OCS and what with that and recently completing Nicholas Nickleby, I got to the Punch show and thought oh, no, not again. Dickens sure does like his strolling players, and they're never my favorite part of the book: too much aimless eccentricity. Though I do like Sleary and Childers.

Overall this felt like a very draggy section to me, and am I off-base in wondering if Short and Codlin are going to be two more suitors for Nell, bringing the total up to 5 (added to Quilp, Swiveler, Kit)? I hope not, because if they are, this story needs some new moves.

I am happy to see some reward for Kit's honesty potentially in the offing, however, and Whisker has replaced the head-standing boy as my favorite character in the book.

I've read 16 chapters now, and Nell doesn't say a whole lot.

Tristram wrote: "In a way, this cemetery scene and the encounter there do not seem to be linked with the actual plot, but maybe they are supposed to show that Little Nell is learning something about life. What could it be she learns?"

I enjoyed the opening of this chapter, the descriptions of the cemetery, the peacefulness, the idea of time standing still. Is that the point? Is a cemetery, where time stands still, the only place Nell can find peace?

The elderly woman visiting her long dead husband is what I call a diversion, and it is diversions like this that enrich a novel, I think. Won't find such little passages in short stories or on the stage or on TV, but novels have them, and when they are done well they are a great pleasure to take in. I'm not sure how much of this book I'll remember, but I already know I shan't forget this poor woman who has spent 50 years morning her husband. For her too, time stands still. Where else are diversions remembered, except maybe in real life?

Death doesn't change us more than life, my dear.

I forgot to mention that Dickens takes the time to tell us the outside noises are disconsonant with the peacefulness of the cemetery.