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Little Dorrit Chapters 15-18
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Getting On
“Happy? Fanny must have been happy. No more wishing one’s self dead now.”
Mr Merdle says “[o]f course … there must be the strictest integrity and uprightness in these transactions; there must be the purest faith between man and man; there must be unimpeached and unimpeachable confidence; or business could not be carried on.”
Sparkler and his bride Fanny arrive in Harley Street. There is a delightful vignette about the Chief Butler of the house. I imagine many of Dickens’s wealthier readers could identify with the Merdle’s butler. Perhaps even Dickens himself. Fanny is escorted to Merdle and finds him slinking about the hearthrug, waiting to welcome Mrs. Sparkler. His welcome is unusual. Is he shy around women, awkward, inept, or does his actions suggest something else?
Fanny finds herself in Mrs Merdle’s rooms and silently congratulates herself on her ascendency in social position. As for Mr Dorrit well, the great Merdle comes to see Dorrit. Mr Dorrit, of course, is honoured and no doubt secretly proud how his new position in life attracts even the great Merdle to his rooms. High praise indeed. Their conversation begins with awkward pleasantries and Merdle compliments Fanny’s appearance. Merdle states that he came to visit and to offer his services if there was anything he could do for Mr. Dorrit. Dorrit, for his part, was “enraptured by these attentions.“ Dorrit plays up his role of an important person and says he will be returning to the continent shortly. Dorrit also mentions that he is in the process of deciding how to invest his money. Myrtle responds by offering his help should Dorrit “command“ it. Dorrit would greatly appreciate Merdle’s advice. Does anyone else feel the earth shake a bit?
Myrtle tells Dorrit that “we may almost say we are related.” Merdle then offers Dorrit any help that would be “to your advantage.” It is at this point that Merdle suggests that only the most proper and strict rules of handling money should be undertaken. Merdle also says “I can only give you a preference to a certain extent.” Merdle then says his time is rather precious and he prepares to leave but offers Dorrit his personal carriage. And so, arm in arm, Dorrit and Merdle leave for the city. I fear a new subplot may well go with them in the carriage to the bank. This is the first friend Dorrit has had. Is money the glue to this friendship?
Dorrit is very pleased that when he leaves the bank people think that he is Merdle’s friend. The scene then shifts to Mrs. Sparkler who is now slipping into a comfortable role much like Mrs. Myrtle. Fanny has begun to lounge in the lap of luxury and probably has quickly forgotten any of the unpleasant world found in the Marshalsea.
Mr. Dorrit now has a friend in Mr Merdle as well as being related by marriage. London’s society begins to beat a path to Dorrit’s door. As the chapter comes to its end, however, Dickens returns us to the presence of Merdle’s Chief Butler. I find this interesting. Dorrit becomes uneasy as the butler seems to look at Dorrit in an unusual manner. Dorrit wonders if the Chief Butler has also spent time in the Marshalsea. How might Mr. Dorrit‘s newfound world be shaken, or even toppled, if the truth of Dorrit’s time in the Marshalsea came out? Also, I wonder if Merdle knows that his chief butler may have been a former resident of the Marshalsea. As the chapter comes to its conclusion Dickens has linked the Father of the Marshalsea to the most important financier in London. Two different worlds have now formed their own union.
Thoughts
Merdle and Dorrit … what do you think Dickens is up to with this new friendship?
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Missing
“If there were any sound at all, it was so slight that she must have fallen into a confirmed habit of listening for sounds…”
Our chapter begins two days before Mr. Dorrit intends to return to the continent. A servant announces that a Mrs. Finching wishes to see him. Dorrit, now a man of supposed society, takes exception to the visit of a person called Finching. When he hears that this lady knows his daughter Amy, Mr Dorrit allows the visit. Mrs. Finching introduces herself and begins one of her remarkably rambling discourses. Mr. Dorrit stands like a “statue of mystification” as he tries to unravel the essence of what Finching is saying. As each tries to decipher the clear focus of the other’s speech patterns, some of us may enjoy their rambles. Well, I try, but still cannot warm to Flora, or, to be candid, Mr Dorrit’s faux sense of superiority. When Flora mentions the names Mr Clennam and then Pancks, Mr. Dorrit begins to pay more attention. Still, on more than one occasion, he asks Flora to “state your pleasure, madam.” Flora tells Mr Dorrit that she had read Dorrit was returning to Italy in a couple of days.
At this point we learn that Flora has a handbill that refers to a foreigner from Italy who disappeared in the city. She produces the police handbill which has the name and description of the foreign gentleman who turns out to be Blandois. Dorrit realizes that he knows Blandois. In fact, he realizes Blandois has been in his house. Flora asks Dorrit to keep an eye out for this foreign gentleman when he returns to Italy. The police handbill also refers to a company called Clennam and Co. After Flora leaves, Dorrit realizes that the interview had “summoned back discarded reminisces which jarred with a Merdle dinner table.” Dorrit also thought that he should pursue “some direct inquiry into the Blandois disappearance, and be in a condition to carry back to Mr. Henry Gowan the result of his personal investigation.”
Dorrit sets of to a rather sketchy part of London to seek out Clennam and Co. Hovering near his destination are two men and he spots more police handbills. Upon knocking on the door he is admitted by a woman with an apron held over her head. Well, it must be Affery, and thus we know he has found the right house.
Here we should pause and consider the expansive narrative. Dickens continues to draw the various characters and the intricacies of his plot together. This house is Arthur’s home, the old lady Dorrit will meet is Arthur’s mother. This is also the home where Amy came, in secret, to earn money which she then used to help her father while he was in the Marshalsea prison. Upon entering the house Flintwinch assures Dorrit that “you can ask anything here you think proper; there are no secrets here, sir.” Secrets! How many secrets does this house contain? With Dorrit at the Clennam home the subplots of Mr Dorrit and the Marshalsea, Amy’s life beyond the prison’s walls, the Clennam subplot of the business of Clennam and Co., Arthur’s relationship with his mother, what the ghostly sounds that surround the home could be are all now linked. Also, Amy and Arthur hover like ghosts in the corners of this interview and Blandois fits into the mix of the characters as well. Slowly this massive novel is becoming connected even though Mrs Clennam and Mr Dorrit remain unaware of any connections.
Mrs Clennam hopes that Dorrit can provide information on Blandois while Dorrit hopes Mrs Clennam can provide information for him. We learn that Dorrit hopes for information about Blandois that will be of interest to Gowan. Here is yet another subplot that is becoming more interwoven into this sprawling novel. Dorrit finds out that Mrs Clennam has known Blandois less than a year, seen him twice and he took, as Mrs Clennam states, referring to money, “none of ours, sir, and got none here.” Affery then is startled, and claims she hears the sound again which is likened to “the falling of dry leaves.”
Unsatisfied with the information he has received, Dorrit leaves and returns home. For the rest of the night we are told that “he haunted the dismal house, saw the two people resolutely waiting, heard the woman with her apron over her face cry out about the noise, and found the body of the missing Blandois, now buried in the cellar, and now bricked up in a wall.” If my memory serves me correctly this is the first incidence where Dickens shows any serious doubt in the character of Mr Dorrit. I think it is a signal to the reader that the plot will soon become darker as the various filaments of the subplot’s are drawn tighter.
We have mentioned before how there are elements of the Gothic tradition that run through the novel. Did anyone else find the ending of the chapter in the Gothic vein? Mysterious sounds, the mention of a person buried in a cellar, and bricked up in a wall all seem to point to Dickens’s friend Edgar Allen Poe.
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A Castle in the Air
And now having got the Channel between himself and John Chivery, [Mr Dorrit] began to feel safe, and find that the foreign air was lighter to breathe than the air of England.
This chapter opens with Mr Dorrit on the way back to his London accommodation, it all is not well in his mind. He does not want the carriage to pass by or near the Marshalsea prison. Even at his farewell banquet with Merdle the next day Dorrit’s mind was uneasy. This uneasiness was further manifest in the fact that Dorrit still worried about Merdle’s Chief Butler’s opinion. It is obvious that Dorrit’s rapid rise in matters both social and financial do weigh on his mind. It is clear that Dorrit wishes to bury his past.
Burying one’s past is not as easy as it seems. When Dorrit arrives at his hotel he sees John Chivery Junior all dressed up and carrying a box of cigars. Dorrit is flummoxed but maintains his composure until he can speak to Young John in private. Dorrit seizes John by the collar and demands “What do you mean by this … how dare you do this … how dare you insult me?” Poor Young John. He is equally flummoxed by the physical and verbal attack of Mr Dorrit. Poor John. In attempting to be kind and show respect to the former Father of the Marshalsea he has found Dorrit to be both threatening and abusive. Dorrit assumes John’s visit was one with an ulterior motive.
After this outburst we are told that Dorrit looked “tired and ill.” He changes his tone and attitude towards Young John. It seems to me that Mr Dorrit is carrying two great burdens. The first burden is his attempt to bury his past. It is obvious that this is a great task. At the same time Dorrit’s mask that he must constantly project about his present wealth and stature seems to be tainting his grasp of his present. When Dorrit’s past and present situations are combined one wonders what the future will bring. To assuage his guilt, Dorrit writes a cheque for £100 and gives it to John who will disperse the money to the residents of the Marshalsea.
In two days Dorrit finds himself in Calais, thus far from John Chivery. He feels safe. Dorrit goes to Paris where he finds himself in a jewellers to buy a gift for a lady. Well now! The clerk asks if the gift is to be a love-gift or a nuptial gift. Dorrit buys two gifts and paid “handsomely” for them. He now carried his head much higher and, as Dickens observes, Dorrit has “plainly got up his castle now to a much loftier altitude than the two square towers of Notre Dame.” Dorrit intends to live in a castle loftier than any that is already in existence. I can’t help but think that the ancient stone castles found throughout Europe are much more firmly planted than the bouncy castle that Dorrit has erected in his own mind.
Are you, like me, hearing the screams of Fanny and Amy?
Thoughts
Dorrit has gone from being the Father of the Marshalsea to a man who sees castles in the air and himself as the castle’s lofty king. What or who will be the circumstances that will will topple the self-proclaimed king of the castle?
I, too, appreciated Fanny more after she'd voiced her opinion to her father about Mrs. General. About time somebody stood up to him about something. Like her or not, Fanny has spunk. ... what will Me. Dorrit do without either of his children?...
You seem to have forgotten about Tip, which is easy to do. I can't help but think he hasn't been quite as fully developed as his sisters, at least not yet. Is there a greater role for him still to come?
Merdle and Dorrit.... I think I'd use the word "association" rather than "friendship". Merdle seems to be about as introverted as one can get, and my impression is that he'd rather be alone with a good book than doing all this entertaining and suffering pompous asses like Mr. Dorrit. Is the Butler really as haughty as the narrator would have us think, or is that haughtiness just through the eyes of the Dorrits? Anyway, perhaps Merdle isn't all that invested in the Sparklers. He is only Sparkler's stepfather - perhaps he's not even financially responsible for him at this age. I think it's another case of going along with whatever makes the Bosom happy, and not rocking the boat.
Both Mr Dorrit and Affery now seem to be hallucinating or having bizarre dreams. What's real, and what isn't? What's foreshadowing? Yes, Peter, this felt like a very gothic chapter.
Poor John Chivery. You know how they say that if you want to know a man's character, see how he treats his inferiors? Dorrit fails the test. No apology will suffice for me, though I daresay John will try to be forgiving. To think, at one point Dorrit would have been delighted to have John as a son-in-law. What a jerk. It's a shame Flora and John are so far apart in age and circumstances. I'd have liked to have seen two such nice people together.
Peter wrote: "Chapter 16Getting On
“Happy? Fanny must have been happy. No more wishing one’s self dead now.”
Mr Merdle says “[o]f course … there must be the strictest integrity and uprightness in these tran..."
Are you misspelling Myrtle on purpose? peace, janz
Mod
1) Mr Dorrit has been outwearing my patience and my sympathy for quite a while now but in these few chapters he is putting a handful of straws on the camel's back that will end up making that beast of burden as spineless as he is himself: What I found extremely thankless is his desire to get rid of Amy now that he apparently thinks of making Mrs General his second wife. How do you get rid of a daughter that has been sacirficing herself when he played the genteel Father of the Marshalsea. Why, you give her away in marriage. Even though Dorrit has no particular husband in mind just now, as he freely admits, he tells Amy that she is supposed to marry. According to what principle? First come first served? Or: The highest bidder gets the prize? That is quite revolting. Then the next step down the ladder was his treatment of Mrs Finching, at whose very name he took offense. He might have treated her even more condescendingly, had he managed either to get in a word edgewise or to make head or tail of what she said. What he felt to be most important was to give out that he had no idea - of course not - that his daughter was doing needlework to finance his lifestyle. Of course, he would never have given his consent to such a low occupation. And last not least, his treatment of John Chivery, who went all the way to York to help establish his claim to the inheritence, was absolutely shameful. I agree with Mary Lou: Dorrit is a jerk! And I do hope that he will be brought to ruin and misery because he does not deserve his current wealth at all.
2) The Butler in the Merdle household is quite a mystery, but I don't think he is actually aware of the impressions he makes on Messrs Dorrit and Merdle. In both cases, it is the bad conscience and the insecurity bred on the knowledge of being frauds and humbugs that makes these two men feel uncomfortable in the presence of the family retainer. Speaking of Mr Merdle, there are more and more signs of a turning point in the fortunes of this man, e.g. the narrator's frequent mention of Mr Merdle's handcuffing himself or leading himself away by the wrists like a constable would do to an arrested man. - Mr Dorrit surely has a lucky hand at picking his friends, hehehe.
3) The Clennam house: This chapter was the highlight of my week's reading of Dickens because of the gloomy and mysterious atmosphere. There are indeed touches of the gothic here, Peter, but as an aficionado of film noir, I also had no difficulty picturing the encounter as I would have seen it on the big screen. There were lots of wonderful details like Mr Dorrit's reading the handbill outside the house and shadows, like the fingers of ghostly readers, running along the lines as he did so. And then there were the mysterious men lurking in the dark and keeping watch over the house. Affery with her apron and her impression of hearing strange sounds, like the rustling of dry leaves this time, made me thing of George Cukor's noir Gaslight with Ingrid Bergman and Charles Boyer. Another thing I paid attention to was whether there was any sign of recognition between Dorrit and Mrs Clennam. If Arthur had been right in supposing that in days of yore, his parents might have wronged Dorrit financially, then chances were high that Dorrit must have seen the Clennams before. I did not find anything suggesting an acquaintance, and while this does not completely rule out any suspicion on Arthur's side, it still makes such a suspicion more unlikely.
4) Fanny - she has guts and all that, and while I'd never marry her myself, I am beginning to like her.
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I am heartened to read that both Mary Lou and Tristram dislike Mr Dorrit. I will happily join them. Dorrit is not at all likeable. While perhaps not a villain like Mr Carker or Fagin or Bill Sykes, Dorrit has few, if any redeeming characteristics. Yes, I put him in a special category of characters who I do not like at all.
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Hi Mary Lou
Yes, the word “association” is a much more accurate word. It is clear to me that Mr Dorrit is using Merdle as a stepping stone into an apparently higher social status than he originally had - unless we count his being the Father of the Marshalsea - as an accomplishment. Now, as to what Merdle’s end game could be is interesting. On the surface, Merdle comes across as rather boring, too milk-toast, too detached to be any kind of problem or threat.
This novel is, to me, however, filled with characters who create masks to project their, or hide their, true motives. I ask myself “how can a seemingly so bland a man have attained such heights?” While his wife’s bosom projects her wealth and announces her presence, Mr Merdle I believe, may have have depths we cannot yet see.
As to Tip, I had almost forgotten him. It is apparent to me that Dickens has made him the least memorable of the Dorrit clan. With the exception of his early excursion into the world of gaming there is nothing I can recall that is remarkable or important about his character at all.
I'm officially adding Mr. Merdle to my list of characters I like! Referencing back to his conversations with his physician and his wife, the man is depressed. I'm pretty sure depression is not a recognized malady in the time period, but this poor introverted man has clinical depression, on top of simple tastes and desire, but somehow has ended up as the wealthy toast of London. Poor thing.( please read that in Mrs. Lovett's voice.)
I wonder where we'll see Tip back. Usually Dickens does not write in characters that are not useful to the story in some way, even if it is to suddenly bring it all down after being absent for almost all of the novel. I tend to forget him too though.
Recently I read 'Persuasion' by Jane Austen, and today it suddenly dawned on me. One of the reasons I dislike Mr. Dorrit so much, is that he reminds me of Sir Elliot (baronet™) - a pompous, vain man, who goes into debt to keep up the, ahum, family name and who ignores one of his daughters still living at home over the other one who is just like him.
Recently I read 'Persuasion' by Jane Austen, and today it suddenly dawned on me. One of the reasons I dislike Mr. Dorrit so much, is that he reminds me of Sir Elliot (baronet™) - a pompous, vain man, who goes into debt to keep up the, ahum, family name and who ignores one of his daughters still living at home over the other one who is just like him.
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Jantine
It’s been quite a while since I read ‘Persuasion’ but the connections you make are fascinating and insightful.
So I will step out on a very tentative and guesswork type of limb of a tree and wonder if there is any link that could be drawn between the names Elliot and Dorrit. Both have a twin consonant and both have a similarity in sound. Perhaps those speculations are a very thin limb and I just crashed. :-)
As for Tip he seems to have just faded away.
Mod
That is exactly the kind of question I have been dealing with for quite a while now. Merdle is such a non-entity, he has so little to say for himself, he is so bland and even seems to shun and feel intimidated by his own butler that I can hardly believe a man like this to be a business genius. In business, don't you need determination, will-power, charisma and lots of similar qualities to succeed? I cannot find any of these in Mr Merdle, and I have begun to suspect that Dickens might have got the character completely wrong: A Merdle would hardly work in reality, now would he?
Mod
Missing and Dreaming
Book II Chapter 17
Phiz
Text Illustrated:
"The question has been asked before," said Mrs. Clennam," and the answer has been, No. We don't choose to publish our transactions, however unimportant, to all the town. We say, No."
"I mean, he took away no money with him, for example," said Mr. Dorrit.
"He took away none of ours, sir, and got none here."
"I suppose," observed Mr. Dorrit, glancing from Mrs. Clennam to Mr. Flintwinch, and from Mr. Flintwinch to Mrs. Clennam, "you have no way of accounting to yourself for this mystery?"
"Why do you suppose so?" rejoined Mrs. Clennam.
Disconcerted by the cold and hard inquiry, Mr. Dorrit was unable to assign any reason for his supposing so.
"I account for it, sir," she pursued after an awkward silence on Mr. Dorrit's part, "by having no doubt that he is travelling somewhere, or hiding somewhere."
"Do you know — ha — why he should hide anywhere?
"No."
It was exactly the same No as before, and put another barrier up. "You asked me if I accounted for the disappearance to myself," Mr. Clennam sternly reminded him, "not if I accounted for it to you. I do not pretend to account for it to you, sir. I understand it to be no more my business to do that, than it is yours to require that."
Mr. Dorrit answered with an apologetic bend of his head. As he stepped back, preparatory to saying he had no more to ask, he could not but observe how gloomily and fixedly she sat with her eyes fastened on the ground, and a certain air upon her of resolute waiting; also, how exactly the self-same expression was reflected in Mr. Flintwinch, standing at a little distance from her chair, with his eyes also on the ground, and his right hand softly rubbing his chin.
At that moment, Mistress Affery (of course, the woman with the apron) dropped the candlestick she held, and cried out, "There! O good Lord! there it is again. Hark, Jeremiah! Now!"
If there were any sound at all, it was so slight that she must have fallen into a confirmed habit of listening for sounds; but Mr. Dorrit believed he did hear a something, like the falling of dry leaves. The woman's terror, for a very short space, seemed to touch the three; and they all listened."
Commentary:
The chief illustrators of the book in the nineteenth century, Phiz and James Mahoney, and the first great Dickens illustrator of the twentieth, Harry Furniss have all focused on the same aspect of the plot of the fourteenth monthly part, Mr. Dorrit's reception at Mrs. Clennam's during his brief stay in London. Having seen his daughter Fanny married to the simple-minded but well-meaning Edmund Sparkler in Venice, Mr. Dorrit returns with Fanny and his new son-in-law to London to manage business affairs. While Edmund and Mrs. Sparkler settle into Mrs. Merdle's rooms in the London mansion while she is still in Italy, Mr. Dorrit pursues his quest for Rigaud. However, Mrs. Clennam, one of Rigaud's business associates, seems reluctant to release any information to Mr. Dorrit, who is naturally suspicious of the hard-headed businesswoman and her confederate, the devious Jeremiah Flintwinch. In Phiz's realization of Mr. Dorrit's visit, Mr. Dorrit is the only character whose face we cannot clearly discern, so that he remains a distinctive voice from the text, and we cannot judge whether he has heard and been disturbed by the peculiar noise that Affery (right) has just heard. Particularly telling is the suspicious glance that Mrs. Clennam (left, in front of the fireplace as befits an invalid) bestows upon Mr. Dorrit as he reads her hand-bill about the missing Rigaud. Ironically, Flora Finching has already given Mr. Dorrit a copy of the hand-bill, which serves as his motivation to visit Mrs. Clennam in the first place.
The title of the chapter derives from Rigaud's inexplicable disappearance after visiting Mrs. Clennam's house in London:
It happened, fortunately for the elucidation of any intelligible result, that Mr. Dorrit had heard or read nothing about the matter. This caused Mrs.Finching, with many apologies for being in great practical difficulties as to finding the way to her pocket among the stripes of her dress at length to produce a police handbill, setting forth that a foreign gentleman of the name of Blandois, last from Venice, had unaccountably disappeared on such a night in such a part of the city of London; that he was known to have entered such a house, at such an hour; that he was stated by the inmates of that house to have left it, about so many minutes before midnight; and that he had never been beheld since. This, with exact particulars of time and locality, and with a good detailed description of the foreign gentleman who had so mysteriously vanished, Mr. Dorrit read at large.
Mod
Reception of an Old Friend
Book II Chapter 18 - Phiz
Text illustrated:
"The aforesaid grandeur was yet full upon Mr Dorrit when he alighted at his hotel. Helped out by the Courier and some half-dozen of the hotel servants, he was passing through the hall with a serene magnificence, when lo! a sight presented itself that struck him dumb and motionless. John Chivery, in his best clothes, with his tall hat under his arm, his ivory-handled cane genteelly embarrassing his deportment, and a bundle of cigars in his hand!
"Now, young man," said the porter. "This is the gentleman. This young man has persisted in waiting, sir, saying you would be glad to see him."
Mr. Dorrit glared on the young man, choked, and said, in the mildest of tones, "Ah! Young John! It is Young John, I think; is it not?"
"Yes, sir," returned Young John.
"I — ha — thought it was Young john!" said Mr. Dorrit. "The young man may come up,' turning to the attendants, as he passed on: "oh yes, he may come up. Let Young John follow. I will speak to him above."
Young John followed, smiling and much gratified. Mr. Dorrit's rooms were reached. Candles were lighted. The attendants withdrew.
"Now, sir," said Mr. Dorrit, turning round upon him and seizing him by the collar when they were safely alone. "What do you mean by this?"
"The amazement and horror depicted in the unfortunate John's face — for he had rather expected to be embraced next — were of that powerfully expressive nature that Mr Dorrit withdrew his hand and merely glared at him.
"How dare you do this?" said Mr. Dorrit. "How do you presume to come here? How dare you insult me?"
"I insult you, sir?" cried Young John. "Oh!"
"Yes, sir," returned Mr Dorrit. "Insult me. Your coming here is an affront, an impertinence, an audacity. You are not wanted here. Who sent you here? What — ha — the Devil do you do here?"
"I thought, sir," said Young John, with as pale and shocked a face as ever had been turned to Mr Dorrit's in his life — even in his College life: "I thought, sir, you mightn't object to have the goodness to accept a bundle —"
Commentary:
The chapter title pertains to Mr. Dorrit's contemplation of marrying his daughters' governess, the aristocratic Mrs. General; however, this aspiration proves a mere "castle in the air". During his visit to London, William Dorrit finds it difficult to reconcile his former identity as "The Father of the Marshalsea," an incarcerated debtor, with his new persona, William Dorrit, "a gentleman of property." Indeed, he is terrified that his new society acquaintances should discover the truth about his past — hence, his shock at being confronted in the lobby of his London hotel but a figure from that suppressed past, young John Chivery, son of one of the turnkeys at the debtors' prison. In essence, Mr. Dorrit is leading a double life, and is constantly apprehensive that his past will collide catastrophically with his present. Already in 1857 Dickens must have been vaguely contemplating leading a double life as his marital affairs were reaching an impasse with Catherine, and in August 1857 he would meet Ellen Lawless Ternan on the set of The Frozen Depp at the Manchester Free-trade Hall leading to a secret affair with the seventeen-year-old actress that would last until his death in 1870. Dickens had unwittingly created a man with a dual identity that would tax its owner and contribute to his death; after writing Little Dorrit, Dickens created a number of characters whose pasts or alternate identities undermine their sense of security.
In short, the apparition of his past in the person of young John Chivery, formerly accustomed to bring the Father of the Marshalsea "testimonials" (bundles of cigars like the one he is holding in his right hand in this illustration), momentarily shocks Mr. Dorrit, who struggles to retain his composure until he can have a private interview with the well-meaning young man from his prison days. After accusing him of being part of some plot to unmask him, William Dorrit recognizes that no such duplicitous motives lie behind the visit, and he apologizes. But the damage, psychologically speaking, has been done. In the illustration, without even bothering to remove his hat, Mr. Dorrit collars John Chivery, who is surprised and dismayed at this violent reception by a man whom he regarded as a friend. The violence is quite at odds with the refined furnishings of the hotel-room, particularly the large, gilt-framed mirror over the mantelpiece with a clock beneath pointing to midnight. A refined oil-painting hanging on the wall between the pair (possibly a scene of the lakes in the north of Italy) points to Mr. Dorrit's new persona as "a gentleman from Italy," but the boy from the Marshalsea is a mirror wherein he should see his true self. In the midst of this serious dialogue Dickens injects a characteristically comic touch when, presented with the cigars, Mr. Dorrit rejects his former identity as an idle smoker in the College Yard:
"Damn your bundle, sir!" cried Mr. Dorrit, in irrepressible rage. "I — hum — don't smoke."
...Dorrit is an ass, of course I knew that already.
Mod
Mistress Affery's Alarm
Book II Chapter 17
Harry Furniss
Charles Dicken's Library Edition 1910
Text Illustrated:
"It was exactly the same No as before, and put another barrier up.
"You asked me if I accounted for the disappearance to myself," Mrs. Clennam sternly reminded him, "not if I accounted for it to you. I do not pretend to account for it to you, sir. I understand it to be no more my business to do that, than it is yours to require that."
Mr Dorrit answered with an apologetic bend of his head. As he stepped back, preparatory to saying he had no more to ask, he could not but observe how gloomily and fixedly she sat with her eyes fastened on the ground, and a certain air upon her of resolute waiting; also, how exactly the self-same expression was reflected in Mr. Flintwinch, standing at a little distance from her chair, with his eyes also on the ground, and his right hand softly rubbing his chin.
At that moment, Mistress Affery (of course, the woman with the apron) dropped the candlestick she held, and cried out, "There! O good Lord! there it is again. Hark, Jeremiah! Now!"
If there were any sound at all, it was so slight that she must have fallen into a confirmed habit of listening for sounds; but Mr. Dorrit believed he did hear a something, like the falling of dry leaves. The woman's terror, for a very short space, seemed to touch the three; and they all listened."
Commentary:
The chief illustrators of the book in the nineteenth century, Phiz and James Mahoney, and the first great Dickens illustrator of the twentieth, Harry Furniss have all focused on the same aspect of the plot of the fourteenth monthly part, Mr. Dorrit's reception at Mrs. Clennam's during his brief stay in London. However, each illustrator has realized a slightly different moment in the interview. Having seen his daughter Fanny married to the simple-minded but well-meaning Edmund Sparkler in Venice, Mr. Dorrit returns with Fanny and his new son-in-law to London to manage business affairs. While Edmund and Mrs. Sparkler settle into Mrs. Merdle's rooms in the London mansion while she is still in Italy, Mr. Dorrit pursues his quest for Rigaud. However, Mrs. Clennam, one of Rigaud's business associates, seems reluctant to release any information to Mr. Dorrit, who is naturally suspicious of the hard-headed businesswoman and her confederate, the devious Jeremiah Flintwinch.
To balance his focus (Affery's sudden alarm at the sound to which she alone seems particularly susceptible) against the principals in the dialogue, Mrs. Clennam in her wheel-chair (left) and Mr. Dorrit dangling his glasses on a chain (center), Furniss has arranged of the figures so that Affery, upstage, is the object of the glances of the other three. Aside from the fallen candlestick, Furniss provides little in the way of background detail, although the setting must certainly be Mrs. Clennam's room on the second floor. After encountering the decidedly odd Flora Finching at his hotel, Mr. Dorrit now has to make sense of three further peculiar characters, who seem determined not to aid him in his search for the French confidence man. The focus here is neither of those engaged in the dialogue about Rigaud-Blandois, Mrs. Clennam and Mr. Dorrit; rather, the artist directs readers' attentions to Affery's response to the peculiar noise to which she so viscerally responds.
Mod
"To preserve your approbation, Mrs. General," said Fanny, returning the smile with one in which there was no trace of those ingredients, "will of course be the highest object of my married life; to lose it, would of course be perfect wretchedness".
Book II Chapter 15
James Mahoney
Household Edition 1873
Text Illustrated:
"I trust Miss Dorrit will allow me to offer her my best congratulations."
Here Mrs General stopped, and added internally, for the setting of her face, "Papa, potatoes, poultry, Prunes, and prism."
"Mr. Dorrit," she superadded aloud, "is ever most obliging; and for the attention, and I will add distinction, of having this confidence imparted to me by himself and Miss Dorrit at this early time, I beg to offer the tribute of my thanks. My thanks, and my congratulations, are equally the meed of Mr. Dorrit and of Miss Dorrit."
"To me," observed Miss Fanny, "they are excessively gratifying — inexpressibly so. The relief of finding that you have no objection to make, Mrs. General, quite takes a load off my mind, I am sure. I hardly know what I should have done," said Fanny, "if you had interposed any objection, Mrs General."
Mrs. General changed her gloves, as to the right glove being uppermost and the left undermost, with a Prunes and Prism smile.
"To preserve your approbation, Mrs. General," said Fanny, returning the smile with one in which there was no trace of those ingredients, "will of course be the highest object of my married life; to lose it, would of course be perfect wretchedness. I am sure your great kindness will not object, and I hope papa will not object, to my correcting a small mistake you have made, however. The best of us are so liable to mistakes, that even you, Mrs. General, have fallen into a little error. The attention and distinction you have so impressively mentioned, Mrs. General, as attaching to this confidence, are, I have no doubt, of the most complimentary and gratifying description; but they don't at all proceed from me. The merit of having consulted you on the subject would have been so great in me, that I feel I must not lay claim to it when it really is not mine. It is wholly papa's. I am deeply obliged to you for your encouragement and patronage, but it was papa who asked for it. I have to thank you, Mrs. General, for relieving my breast of a great weight by so handsomely giving your consent to my engagement, but you have really nothing to thank me for. I hope you will always approve of my proceedings after I have left home and that my sister also may long remain the favoured object of your condescension, Mrs. General."
Commentary:
William Dorrit, having come into a fortune and joined the ranks of the upper middle class, has engaged the "polishing" services of the pretentious Mrs. Hortensia General, widow of an army officer, to educate his daughters and prepare them for their new position in society. Mrs. General is significant among the secondary characters, not merely because she has marital designs upon Mr. Dorrit, but also because the regimentation of the Dorrit sisters is a motivating factor in Fanny's decision to marry Edmund Sparkler, and thereby escape her domination and the possibility that Mrs. General may become her "mother-in-law" (that is, step-mother) rather than merely her governess and chaperone. Mrs. General's "system" of education is making young ladies agreeable and attractive in preparation for upper-middle-class marriages; however, they should never say anything unpleasant or improper, and hold no opinions whatsoever that are contrary to the received wisdom of respectable society. Unfortunately for the authentic and sympathetic Amy, Mrs. General insists on the Dorrit girls' maintaining decorum and cultivating a proper veneer; she does not even acknowledge that she is a paid servant, but assumes the role of a friend of the family and its counselor — hence, in this scene Fanny challenges the notion that she needs Mrs. General's consent or approbation before accepting Edmund Sparkler's marriage proposal.
In the second book, "Riches," Dickens makes Mrs. General the exemplar of a social attitude (propriety) and in these chapters gives her a distinct voice or verbal presence, but offers little in the way of physical features for the inspiration of an illustrator. Later artists such as Mahoney and Eytinge, of course, could reference Phiz's original images of Mrs. General for the Chapman and Hall serialization (in which the earlier illustrator has crammed the widow of the commissariat officer's widow into the lower right corner of The Travellers, one of two illustrations for the eleventh monthly part, October 1856, but has not developed her). Later illustrators had to select a carriage and fashion appropriate to Dickens's descriptions of her manner. The philosophy of "Prunes and Prism" includes never acknowledging anything disagreeable:
"If Miss Amy Dorrit will direct her own attention to, and will accept of my poor assistance in, the formation of a surface, Mr. Dorrit will have no further cause of anxiety. May I take this opportunity of remarking, as an instance in point, that it is scarcely delicate to look at vagrants with the attention which I have seen bestowed upon them by a very dear young friend of mine? They should not be looked at. Nothing disagreeable should ever be looked at. Apart from such a habit standing in the way of that graceful equanimity of surface which is so expressive of good breeding, it hardly seems compatible with refinement of mind. A truly refined mind will seem to be ignorant of the existence of anything that is not perfectly proper, placid, and pleasant." Having delivered this exalted sentiment, Mrs. General made a sweeping obeisance, and retired with an expression of mouth indicative of Prunes and Prism. — Book 2, Chapter 5, "Something Wrong Somewhere".
Mahoney in presenting Mrs. General and Fanny Dorrit as foils perhaps places too much emphasis on Fanny (right), dressed for the sake of visual continuity as she was in her previous appearance, in "Well, Amy dear." Mahoney's Mrs. General here, in contrast to these other images, is nondescript and unimpressive; certainly there is nothing imperious about this slender, middle-aged woman in black tulle and sausage-roll curls, who is a far cry from the impressive middle-aged lady in evening-dress depicted by Harry Furniss in 1910.
Between the two women sparring verbally is the pillar-like figure of William Dorrit, caught between the two in emotional vice. Although the picture does not make his emotions plain, he resents Fanny's placing him in the awkward position of having to support her marriage to Edmund Sparkler, despite his regarding the banker Merdle as a valuable connection. He is framed by the large-scale, ornately framed painting behind him, the only detail that suggests the setting, the family's wainscoted suite in Rome.
Mod
Reception of an Old Friend
Book II Chapter 18 - Phiz
Text illustrated:
"The aforesaid grandeur was yet full upon Mr Dorrit when he alighted at his hotel. Helped out ..."
The commentary for this illustration offers both an insight and explanation of Mr Dorrit’s duel identity. Equally important is the observation how many characters in our upcoming novels have pasts or alternate identities that will undermine their sense of security. This stylistic feature/trope is key to appreciating and coming to terms with Dorrit as well as preparing us for our next novels.
Mod
Mr. Dorrit read it through as if he had not previously seen it.
Book II Chapter 17
James Mahoney
Household Edition 1873
Text Illustrated:
"Mrs. Clennam had her books open on her little table. "Oh!" said she abruptly, as she eyed her visitor with a steady look. "You are from Italy, sir, are you. Well?"
Mr. Dorrit was at a loss for any more distinct rejoinder at the moment than "Ha — well?"
"Where is this missing man? Have you come to give us information where he is? I hope you have?"
"So far from it, I — hum — have come to seek information."
"Unfortunately for us, there is none to be got here. Flintwinch, show the gentleman the handbill. Give him several to take away. Hold the light for him to read it."
Mr Flintwinch did as he was directed, and Mr. Dorrit read it through, as if he had not previously seen it; glad enough of the opportunity of collecting his presence of mind, which the air of the house and of the people in it had a little disturbed. While his eyes were on the paper, he felt that the eyes of Mr. Flintwinch and of Mrs. Clennam were on him. He found, when he looked up, that this sensation was not a fanciful one.
"Now you know as much," said Mrs. Clennam, "as we know, sir. Is Mr. Blandois a friend of yours?"
"No — a — hum — an acquaintance," answered Mr. Dorrit.
"You have no commission from him, perhaps?"
"I? Ha. Certainly not."
Commentary:
The chief illustrators of the book in the nineteenth century, Phiz and James Mahoney, and the first great Dickens illustrator of the twentieth, Harry Furniss have all focused on the same aspect of the plot of the seventeenth chapter of the second book, Mr. Dorrit's reception at Mrs. Clennam's during his brief stay in London.
In Mahoney's realization of Mr. Dorrit's visit, the Sixties artist has assimilated the original steel-engraving's figures and redistributed them, and chosen an earlier moment in the interview. As yet, Mistress Affery (right rear) has not taken alarm at another peculiar noise in the walls of the old house. A less cartoon-like Flintwinch than Phiz's has just handed William Dorrit the hand-bill, which Dorrit now peruses by the light of a candle held aloft by Jeremiah. Mrs. Clennam is regarding him, meanwhile, with suspicion as she has been interrupted in her accounting. Of the three principals in the picture, Mr. Dorrit (the focal character, right of center) is the only one whose face we cannot clearly discern, so that he remains little more than a distinctive voice from the accompanying text (which is, in fact, some seven pages later than the plate in the London edition), despite his fashionable attire, balding head, and monocle on a ribbon. Ironically, Mr. Dorrit feels that he has to buy time in order to judge the motives of this canny pair, and thus pretends to be reading the hand-bill for the first time, even though Flora Finching has already given him a copy of the hand-bill, which serves as his motivation to leave his hotel visit Mrs. Clennam in the first place. The picture, then, is a more realistic and less caricature version of Phiz's Missing and Dreaming (originally in Part 15: February 1857), which has a much more comic Flintwinch and the highly apprehensive Affery that the reader has come to know.
Avery wrote: "I'm officially adding Mr. Merdle to my list of characters I like! Referencing back to his conversations with his physician and his wife, the man is depressed. I'm pretty sure depression is not a re..."Is there maybe more even than introversion and depression going on with Merdle? What are we supposed to make of this:
There were black traces on his lips where they met, as if a little train of gunpowder had been fired there; and he looked like a man who, if his natural temperament had been quicker, would have been very feverish that morning. This, and his heavy way of passing his hand over his forehead, had prompted Mr Dorrit’s solicitous inquiries.
Black lips and fever? Is he very sick? Is he ingesting something? Is the empire already crumbling and he's--I don't know, rubbing a pencil against his mouth as he tries to sort out his accounts? Very odd.
Peter wrote: "After this outburst we are told that Dorrit looked “tired and ill.” He changes his tone and attitude towards Young John.."I was squirmy-uncomfortable about the Dorrit/Young John scene--in a good way. It's possibly the first time in the book I've felt any sympathy for Dorrit because he was so awful that even he himself felt it, and was remorseful for what he'd done to someone who'd tried to be kind to him, and worse still he could see there was no way he could undo it. I felt awful in his shoes and I pitied him.
Fortunately for him, or not as I guess we'll see, he sure does bounce back quickly.
I expect on his deathbed he'll want to apologize to Amy. Yuck.
Kim wrote: "Book II Chapter 15 - James Mahoney"To preserve your approbation, Mrs. General," said Fanny, returning the smile with one in which there was no trace of those ingredients, "will of course be the..."
Mahoney is a bit kinder to Mrs. General I think than she deserves!
Julie wrote: "Peter wrote: "After this outburst we are told that Dorrit looked “tired and ill.” He changes his tone and attitude towards Young John.."I was squirmy-uncomfortable about the Dorrit/Young John sce..."
I really liked that Dorrit got taken down a bit. He is such a fake snob (a snob with no reason to be a snob) that he deserved it. I did not feel one moment pity or kindness for him. He deserves whatever he gets. We really do not know that he was well to do before imprisonment. He inherited the money from some unlikely source. peace, janz
Mod
A pencil might have left those marks, true. When I read this, I was thinking of remnants of some drug Mr Merdle might be taking in order to keep himself going. After all, he seems to be a very lethargic, or depressive man and what with that butler around, Mr. Sparkler's interests to promote and the Bosom looming large in the background, all in addition to his business cares, he might need some drugs to get up in the morning? At any rate, it is an unsettling affair and reminds me of the Seinfeld episode where Jerry suspects his advestment advisor might be taking cocaine.
Mod
I was squirmy-uncomfortable about the Dorrit/..."
Like you, I don't have it in me to feel pity for Dorrit. It is true he feels remorse but he does not really and consistently act up on it. The cigars he was once only too glad to get - and which might have cost John Chivery quite an amount of money - are now below his ken and are to be smoked by one of his domestics.
For those who celebrate the coming holiday I wish you a Happy Easter. The timing of this post is slightly early and I apologize. I am presently travelling and thought it best to post the commentaries now.
Peter
Chapter 15
No Just Cause or Implement why these Two Persons should not be joined together.
“To sum the whole up shortly, [Mr. Dorrit] received Mr. Sparkler’s offer very much as he would have received three or four half-crowns crowns from him in the days that were gone.”
I imagine most of us have attended a few weddings. There are always situations and personalities that seem to emerge before and during such events. In this chapter we get to witness the preparations for Fanny’s wedding. Dickens’s first readers must have enjoyed all the personal traits that emerge in this chapter. In fact, I recognize a few myself.
When Mr. Dorrit is informed of his elder daughter’s coming marriage to Mr. Sparkler we learn how Dorrit’s dignity will be widened by “the prospect of advantageous ground.” Mr. Dorrit sees the coming wedding as yet another opportunity to further his own standing in society. A marriage into the Merdle family will further solidify his own improved situation. The first step Dorrit takes is to contact Mrs. Merdle. She assures Dorrit that she approves of the marriage and is personally charmed. As to what Mr. Merdle will think she is unable to make any assurances.
Dorrit then sets out on a letter writing partnership with Mr Merdle. Have you noticed the number of letters that form part of the narrative in this novel? Do you see any particular reason for so many letters?
At this point of the chapter do you detect touches of irony and sarcasm beginning to slowly bubble into the interactions of the characters? I can envision the flourishes of the pen Dorrit uses in his correspondence to Merdle. The Father of the Marshalsea now has the opportunity to make himself known to one of the richest people in England and to have a connection through marriage. What could Merdle possibly see in having a connection to Dorrit? What does Dorrit have that could possible interest a man like Merdle?
Mr Dorrit informs Fanny that Mrs General must be told of the happy news of the upcoming wedding. Fanny’s response to her father is one I find delightfully sarcastic. In her exchange with her father I have slightly altered my opinion of Fanny. It is evident that Fanny does not like Mrs General, and that Mr Dorrit’s attempts to defend Mrs General only make matters worse. Again, questions arise. Why does Mr Dorrit appear so interested in Mrs General’s opinion? Is it merely Dorrit’s bumbling attempts to act like an aristocrat or even to take on a role of a father figure who does what he thinks best for the family?
Next on stage in this chapter is Mrs General who maintains her cool posture of propriety and the need to always maintain the world of “Papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes, and prism.” Fanny, for her part, is able to match Mrs. General step for step and phrase for phrase. With an “elegant and cheerful air” Fanny then leaves the room. Like a stage diva, Fanny has had the last word. I, for one, at this point in the chapter have grown to like Fanny much more. How about you? I wonder if my feelings toward Fanny will last long?
Society, and even Mrs Merdle, find Fanny much improved by her engagement. Fanny thrives in her new world and social position. Mr Sparkler remains enchanted by Fanny and he does whatever he is told. Touches of sarcasm continue to bubble in this chapter. Dickens tells us that Mr. Sparkler is “unable to resist the agonized cry from the depths of his country’s soul” and decides he must return to England. Ah, Sparkler and the legions of Barnacles. England is secure.
What comes next is an interesting conversation between Fanny and Amy. Fanny tells Amy that she is in no hurry to get married but Edmund is. Amy knows her future husband well and tells Amy that if there is a foolish thing to be done “he is sure to do it.” Fanny tells Amy that she could return to London and take up residence in the Merdle home. I must say that is a better house to stay in before her own marital home is ready than to be a resident in a jail. Fanny asks for Amy’s advice in what to do but it is evident that Fanny has already made up her mind about the wedding arrangements and where she will live.
Now, I did say earlier that I liked Fanny in this chapter. Perhaps I should alter my comment and say I liked Fanny’s spirited interchange with her father and Mrs General. Now, however, Fanny becomes rather patronizing towards Amy. Did you notice the number of times Fanny called Amy by other names, names that I think, in total, are demeaning. Fanny says that her husband-to-be is no good as company to anyone, anywhere. Carrying on in the theme of matrimonial relationships, Fanny tells Amy to be on guard for the possibility of their father wanting to marry Mrs General. Of such is to be the case Fanny tells Amy she must tell their father they both object to such a marriage. Fanny states she will bring all her married power to bear on stopping such a marriage. We will have to await further details but if the course of love runs afoul then both the Mr Dorrit - Mrs General and the Fanny - Sparkler subplots will provide a few eventful chapters.
Preparations begin for Fanny’s marriage. Well, perhaps I should say enormous and expensive plans begin for Fanny’s marriage. The marriage occurs and Dickens sums up the aftermath in the following way. “So, the Bride had mounted into her handsome chariot, incidentally accompanied by the Bridegroom; and after rolling for a few minutes smoothly over a fair pavement, had begun to jolt through a Sloth of Despond, and through a long, long avenue of wrack and ruin. Other nuptial carriages are said to have gone the same road, before and since.” It sounds like Fanny and Sparkler are indeed going to offer us more entertainment in coming chapters.
Mr Dorrit sees the marriage as a way to extend his connections. He also says that it is now time for Amy to think of getting married as well but has no potential man in view yet as worthy of her. As Amy, her father and Mrs General make their way through Italy A y begins to see her life like the ruins that surround her. Clearly, her father has begun to think about a life without Amy. Since Mr Dorrit has married off one daughter and has begun to make plans for the marriage of Amy what will Mr Dorrit do without either of his children? Will he be alone? One could ask these general questions about marriage.
Thoughts
By the end of this chapter what is your opinion of Fanny Dorrit?