The Old Curiosity Club discussion

Dear Curiosities,

Our journey through the pages of this novel, which disheartens us literary travellers with its title No Thoroughfare, is in its second stage and, as far as my own impression goes, taking up speed. Let us start our weekly discussion with what The Housekeeper Speaks.

Entering on her duties in Mr. Wilding’s house, Mrs. Goldstraw, on her first morning there, sits down with her employer in order to get closer information as to how she is supposed to run things. The two of them do not get very far in this, though, because the housekeeper is apparently distracted by the portrait of Mr. Wilding’s mother, which adorns the chimney piece. Apparently, she tries to conceal her distraction but her moment of insecurity is not lost on her employer, all the more so as he again is struck with the impression that she somehow reminds him of something as well, and so, instead of clearing up how Mr. Wilding likes his tea, they end up clearing up some other, more important matters. After telling Mrs. Goldstraw that she is actually looking at the picture of his mother, he asks her whether she has had any other occupation before becoming a housekeeper, and she eventually says that she used to work as a nurse in the foundling home where he once was looked after. To cut a long story short, she was none other but the young woman named Sally we heard of in the prologue, and when this mystery is cleared up, she starts hedging around a further discussion of the topic. Mr. Wilding, however, notices that she still knows more than she is willing to let on, and he will not have her get away with it. By and by, she tells him that she let the woman in the picture know that her own child was known in the foundling home by the name of Walter Wilding – but what she then finally admits throws poor Walter into a crisis.

We learn that he is, in fact, not the real son of the lady in the picture because the original Walter Wilding was adopted by a young lady about whom Mrs. Goldstraw only knows one more thing, namely that she and baby Walter went to Switzerland soon afterwards. A little later, she another baby was taken into the Foundling, and the name Walter Wilding being “free”, it was given to the new boy by one of the officials. As a consequence, when the older nurse pointed out to the veiled lady the child known as Walter Wilding, it was no longer the veiled lady’s true child, but a completely different one. At that time, Sally Goldstraw was no longer working in the place so that the error went by unnoticed and could therefore not be prevented. In other words, “our” Walter has just learned that the lady he regarded as his mother was not his mother at all and he is not her son.

After Mrs. Goldstraw’s evasive answers have nearly caused the “singing” in Walter’s head to start again, this new discovery throws the young wine merchant into a new sort of crisis: He thinks of himself as of some kind of involuntary impostor who has come into the possession of his trade and his fortune by way of deception, and he is determined to find out the whereabouts of the first Walter Wilding, to give up his possessions to him and to throw himself on this man’s generosity. Upon Mrs. Goldstraw’s remonstrances not to take the matter to heart too much and not to over-react, he says that simply because he loved the woman he regarded as his mother, he looks upon it as his duty to do justice to her son.

The colloquy between Wilding and his housekeeper is then interrupted by the near-simultaneous arrivel of Mr. Wilding’s new partner George Vendale and a letter from Switzerland.

It seems that the story is taking up some speed with the revelations shared in this chapter, and it is a strange coincidence that at that very moment a letter from Switzerland should arrive because, after all, the first Walter Wilding, if he be still alive, might well breathe Swiss mountain air. What do these revelations and the reactions to them displayed by the characters tell us about Walter and Mrs. Goldstraw? Is Sally Goldstraw really so much to blame as she feels? And should she have kept the secret from Walter and fed him a fib, a white lie, instead? Is Walter’s reaction understandable? And what about his new-formed resolution? Is he not entitled to view himself as a victim of circumstances, and does he not also have a responsibility towards his employees and his new partner?

The next chapter shows us a bunch of New Characters on the Scene, and it is rather long but not at all lengthy. The first of these new characters is George Vendale, Wilding’s new partner and, as becomes clear in the course of their conversation, an old acquaintance of his. He is also roughly the same age and endowed with ”a quick determined eye and an impulsive manner”. Wilding, however, is no less impulsive because when Vendale notices his friend’s agitation and asks him about the reason for it, our wine merchant immediately makes a clean breast of his secret to him, telling him the entire story, and saying that he actually has no right to be in the position he stands in.

What do you think of this course of action? Vendale has just arrived and lo! he is faced with a problem he could hardly have anticipated and which may well set his own future plans at nought. Do you think Wilding could have adopted a different strategy?

Vendale shows himself a trusty friend and says that he will do anything to support Wilding in his plight. He suggests reading the newly-arrived letter because it might have something to do with his discovery – but it turns out to be merely a recommendation by their Swiss business partners of a M. Jules Obenreizer, a merchant who has established his business in Soho. Vendale knows this man Obenreizer from his own sojourn in Switzerland, where they travelled together, and he also remembers Obenreizer’s niece Marguerite – a recollection that makes him blush a little bit and alarms us inveterate readers of some love interests in the wings of the story. Turning back to Wilding’s problem, Vendale takes a very pragmatic outlook on it, saying that as he has become much attached to his supposed mother and she has become much attached to him, she would most probably have left him the property anyway, even though she might have learned the truth in her lifetime. Wilding is not really convinced however, and he says,

”’What I think […] can no more change the truth than it can bring down the sky. The truth is that I stand possessed of what was meant for another man. […] Have I not robbed him of all the happy time that I enjoyed in his stead? […]’”

Vendale is impressed by Wilding’s honesty and scrupulousness, and he renews his pledge of support and help, agreeing that Mr. Bintrey must be informed of it all. The two men decide to keep this news secret from anybody else for the time being for fear of attracting rascals with fraudulent claims. Vendale then goes away to pay his introductory visit to Obenreizer, who strikes me as a rather dubious man. His first appearance already set me a little bit against him because he appears behind Vendale from out of nowhere, like Mrs. Danvers in Hitchcock’s movie Rebecca. Another strange peculiarity of the man is that he can put a film over his eyes under the guise of which he seems to take in any detail in his surroundings and in the people around him without betraying too much about himself. We also learn that he is a rather young man – a fact that made me think a little bit. Can you guess what I thought? When Obenreizer reintroduces Vendale to his niece Marguerite, there is also a Madame Dor present, a kind of chaperon, who gives the impression of being somehow in cahoots with M. Obenreizer and of keeping some kind of watch over the young lady, who on her part seems to stand in awe of Obenreizer but also tries to provoke him in her conversation.

This strange state of affairs might do well with some background story, which is also given in the chapter: Obenreizer was a son of his father’s second marriage, and Marguerite is his half-brother’s child, and when the half-brother died, he made Obenreizer his daughter’s ward, lacking anybody else who could undertake this task. To make matters even more interesting, Marguerite will come into a certain property when she is old enough – so Obenreizer has a lot of responsibility.

Although Vendale’s visit is one of courtesy, Obenreizer comes over as very provoking for most of the time, especially when he seems to pull Vendale’s leg about the difference between their respective families – whereas Vendale was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Obenreizer was born a peasant and lived in a family where he was often beaten. It is interesting that whenever Obenreizer teases Vendale, Marguerite takes the Englishman’s side.

After leaving the Obenreizer’s, Vendale pays a visit to the vaults of the wide trade where he is the new partner. Here he runs into Mr. Ladle, who once again voices his superstitions about Mr. Wilding’s lack of wisdom in changing the business’s name. Ladle also has another superstition, namely about the fungus on the ceiling of the vault, which ought not to be removed because if it falls on a man’s breast, where it looks like blood then, this is a sure token that the man in question will die a violent death. Alas, before he can utter his warning, Vendale has tried to remove some of the disgusting fungus, and guess what happens.

What do you make of Mr. Obenreizer – and how do you think his relation with our friend Vendale will develop? Are there any traces of Dickens’s handwriting in this chapter? I have an idea I found two examples but am curious to know your hypotheses first. And, last, but not least, what do you think is the key quotation in this chapter, one that is typical of so much of Victorian writing, especially of Dickens’s?

With so many new characters crowding our stage, we might find Exit Wilding a move towards a clearer stage again, even though it might not please Walter Wilding a lot. Mr. Wilding’s attempts at finding out more about his namesake and the man whose property he holds have all come to nought – which prompted Mr. Bintrey to use the phrase “No Thoroughfare” whenever a trace has led nowhere – and so Wilding has altered his will, deciding that his share in the property should definitely go to the first Walter Wilding and, in case this man cannot be found, be made over to the Foundling after two years of searching.

Things have apparently returned to normal, and Mr. Wilding has even started putting into practice his plans of establishing a common household with his employees. Even his choir project has been taken in hand, and Mr. Ladle has been won over to it to a certain extent, not so much because of the singing itself, however, but more because Miss Marguerite has become part of the company, she and her uncle – but also the sinister Madame Dor – becoming regular visitors at Wilding’s place. During these visits, Vendale has formed a certain opinion on Obenreizer, which he imparts to his friend and partner, namely that Obenreizer is a person who does not keep silence well. By this he means that Obenreizer seems like a nice and prepossessing enough person whenever he talks, but that as soon as he sits in silence, ”’he comes out rather wrong.’”

Have you made a similar observation with regard to people you know? Or do you think this little detail rather odd? What can be meant by it?

With the exception of this spark of distrust struck by Obenreizer, things seem to run pretty smoothly until all of a sudden, Mr. Wilding, of whom the secret about his origins and the man whose place he thinks he holds unjustified must have taken a more exacting toll than it seemed, falls ill and dies.

Oh dear! What might happen next?

What a lot of mystery packed into this little story! Just when I think we're finally on a strait path (or should I say thoroughfare?), we hit a sharp curve that opens a whole new set of possibilities. It's quite a fun ride.

The way Obenreizer was described as being observant immediately put me in mind of Uriah Heep. Add to that his humble beginnings, and it can't be a good sign. His talk of making something of himself was very Bounderbyan, so to speak. Less bluster, but nearly as annoying. Can we hold out much hope for this character with those two comparisons to recommend him? I was also bothered by the off-hand remark he made about his staff: “Poor compatriots. Grateful and attached, like dogs!" Quite a different perspective than that of Walter, who wants to be a benevolent patriarch to those in his employ.

There's a theme here of obfuscation. Walter's mother hid behind a veil (will we ever learn what betrayal she suffered?), and Obenreizer has the "film" that veils his eyes, and thoughts.

All the talk of the red fungus and things entering through Ladle's pores make me want to go out and invest in a respirator.

Tristram wrote: "what do you think is the key quotation in this chapter, one that is typical of so much of Victorian writing, especially of Dickens’s?"

Can't wait to see what quotation you're referring to, and if anyone guesses it. I have a suspicion, but have no confidence to support my hunch.

I was glad that Walter remembered the foundlings in his will. I'd been wondering if he might adopt at some point. Dickens, of course, was a great philanthropist. I wonder if Collins was, as well.

Speculations:

I can't help but notice that Obenreizer is "dark" while his niece is fair. In-law/stepmother genetics, or something more?

We have four men of approximately the same age: Walter, Binley, Obenreizer, and Vendale - two of whom have ties to Switzerland that we're aware of. Is the "real" Walter Wilding already among us, or will we meet additional candidates in future acts? There have been several references to the "It's-a-small-world" theme; I can't help but think we've already met the original Wilding.

Can it be that Binley, like Jaggers in Great Expectations, knows everything surrounding the mystery, but is prevented from revealing it by attorney/client privilege? If so, his warnings take on a more dire importance.

My mind has been going all kinds of directions already. I think I hope Vendale will turn out to be the 'real Walter Wilding', he was the first I thought of. Wouldn't it be ironic, the new partner being the one they have been looking for all along? Or perhaps Binley? Both would be okay, because they are clearly the right kind of man who try to keep Walter from doing rash things.

Then there is indeed Obenreizer (my mind combined German and Dutch in his name, making it into 'Uptraveler'). He reminded me of a combination of Uriah Heep and Bounderby too. I am pretty sure that if he finds out about the whole thing, he will at least try to come out as the heir of it all, and he will not be a good one. With Dickens' influence he will not end up getting anything though, or at least I hope so. Vendale will marry Obenreizer's niece, through some kind of caveat Binley manages to have her inherit instead of Obenreizer, and all will be a-okay. Something like that. Yes, in my mind Obenreizer is a serious contender of being either the original WW or someone who might appear to be the original WW.

That Walter died is quite convenient. Now his friends can make sure everything will be good, as he deep down would have wanted it to be, without his Lawful Silly Good conscience getting in the way.

Good observations, Mary Lou and Jantine. I definitely think that if we have not already met the real Walter Wilding as suggested, I do think we will on this trip to Switzerland. It is very obvious that Obenreizer cannot be trusted especially when we see that his own niece is so fearful of him. Who else should know him better? I am very much enjoying this piece and am looking forward to it's conclusion.

Bobbie wrote: "I am very much enjoying this piece"

So am I, Bobbie. I think this was a good choice to get us going again.

Tristram wrote: "Dear Curiosities,

Our journey through the pages of this novel, which disheartens us literary travellers with its title No Thoroughfare, is in its second stage and, as far as my own impression goes..."

Two Walter Wildings. Both Dickens and Collins have incorporated the use of brothers/sisters, or look-a-likes, or close relatives in their novels. Generally, this trope has worked reasonably well. I am, however, having difficulty buying into this pair of Walter’s. Hopefully, the plot will right itself soon.

Mary Lou wrote: "What a lot of mystery packed into this little story! Just when I think we're finally on a strait path (or should I say thoroughfare?), we hit a sharp curve that opens a whole new set of possibiliti..."

Mary Lou

I liked how you dealt with the twisting trail of the title No Thoroughfare. I think you are right in observing that since there are two characters linked to Switzerland and four men in total who have been introduced and could be the lost Wilding. Surely the real Wilding must be a good person, so that narrows our field of possibilities down somewhat.

I think the warnings that thread their way through the novel will all become important as we read further into the story. No Thoroughfare is not that long. To me, that is another reason to think that with two authors involved in the story we will not see too many red herrings.

Jantine wrote: "My mind has been going all kinds of directions already. I think I hope Vendale will turn out to be the 'real Walter Wilding', he was the first I thought of. Wouldn't it be ironic, the new partner b..."

Jantine

Interesting insights and logic. Thank you for the translation. “Uptraveller” Hmmm. Names in Dickens very often are indicative of the person’s character. I’m not sure how that name works yet.

Peter wrote: "Surely the real Wilding must be a good person..."

Hmm.... what leads you to this conclusion, Peter? Something in the text, or just your knowledge of Victorian literature?

I can easily imagine the first WW somehow learning who his mother was, discovering that a "usurper" has taken his place, and wanting revenge, unjustified though it may be.

Mary Lou wrote: "Peter wrote: "Surely the real Wilding must be a good person..."

Hmm.... what leads you to this conclusion, Peter? Something in the text, or just your knowledge of Victorian literature?

I can eas..."

Mary Lou

I’m playing the odds. ;-). I can’t recall any Dickens novel where a “bad guy” gets to be in the title role. The narrator seems to be in complete control and any hints, shadows of doubt, or seeming winks to the reader seem to be cautioning us to be wary of at least one character. That helps narrow the field.

The is no question that Wilder number one was a really kind, sensitive, and dare I say a slightly over-the-top creation. WW number two has to equal WW number one in some form or fashion. I think that narrows our field down even more.

What I would love to know was how Dickens and Collins framed our hero. Did they agree quickly and easily? Did either Dickens or Collins present the other with a fleshed out idea of the protagonist for approval? Was WW number two a “left-over” character from one of the two author’s earlier novels?

Hmm, I can't really see how Vendale could be the other WW because he never mentioned being an adopted child but spoke of his family as his natural family. It may still be possible, however, that the lady who adopted the other WW never told him that he was not her biological child.

I'd like to see Obenreitzer the second WW because this would pander to the good-twin-evil-twin motif that we can find in some works of dark romanticism (and in film noir), but somehow I cannot see Dickens tolerating so much bravado. It would boil down to a wonderful climax, however.

By the way, the name Obenreitzer also has the German word "reizen" in it, which translates into "to rile", "to provoke", "to nettle". There is also a very elaborate German card game called "Skat" where you have three players, two of them playing together against the third. At the beginning of each round, the players have to "reizen", which means they make bids as to how high they can go in their game - all very complicated, but extremely entertaining, and you have to be good at maths - and the one who bids highest plays alone and can decide what cards are trumps in this round.

As to the quotation I was referring to, I indeed had the "small world" topos in mind. It is used more than once by Obenreitzer here, and it somehow sounds menacing. Plus, it also takes the edge off Dickens's normal reliance on coincidence because if it is a small world, why! people would cross and re-cross each others' paths in life, wouldn't they?

Tristram wrote: "Hmm, I can't really see how Vendale could be the other WW because he never mentioned being an adopted child but spoke of his family as his natural family. It may still be possible, however, that th..."

Tristram

Thanks for the insight on “reizen.” The meanings of “to rile,” “to provoke,” and “to nettle” give a clear picture as to what Obenreizer may be like. It is never a good idea to ignore a name in a Dickens novel.

If Dickens meant to tag a meaning to his name we should keep a close eye on Obenreizer.

Peter wrote: "we should keep a close eye on Obenreizer. "

And so should our friend Vendale ;-)