The Pickwick Club discussion

Dear Fellow Pickwickians,

I don’t know how Mr. Dickens does it, but he has once more drawn me completely into the story, and, what is more, into the world he manages to create. In Chapter 7, there is not an awful lot happening but nevertheless, Salem House begins to arise in front of my eyes as a place I can really imagine, and the characters are becoming more and more vivid. For a start, there is Steerforth, self-confident, proud and definitely also selfish. Just consider how he decides that David should tell him the stories of “Peregrine Pickle” and the likes because he “can’t get to sleep very early at night, and [he] generally wake[s] rather early in the morning” without considering for a moment whether the same is true with regard to David. It’s just that he feels like being entertained, and so without any question David has to comply with his wishes. We also learn that Steerforth’s mother is a rather wealthy widow, which might explain Steerforth’s haughtiness – he might have been pampered quite a lot at home – and also what Mr. Mell calls his position of favoritism at that school. Then there is poor Traddles, of whom David say,

”Poor Traddles! In a tight sky-blue suit that made his arms and legs like German sausages, or roly-poly puddings, he was the merriest and most miserable of all the boys. He was always being caned—I think he was caned every day that half-year, except one holiday Monday when he was only ruler'd on both hands—and was always going to write to his uncle about it, and never did. After laying his head on the desk for a little while, he would cheer up, somehow, begin to laugh again, and draw skeletons all over his slate, before his eyes were dry. I used at first to wonder what comfort Traddles found in drawing skeletons; and for some time looked upon him as a sort of hermit, who reminded himself by those symbols of mortality that caning couldn't last for ever. But I believe he only did it because they were easy, and didn't want any features.”

Traddles is also the only one to criticize Steerforth for the humiliating insults he hurls at Mr. Mell, which shows that he must be a very decent and good-hearted boy.

We also witness the tyranny of Mr. Creakle when he solves the clash between Steerforth and Mr. Mell not by calling to order the student for his mean and outraging behaviour but by dismissing the teacher, who has pointed out the special treatment Steerforth received from Mr. Creakle and who has the audacity of having a mother who lives in an almshouse.

Dickens also proves a keen observer of human nature when he explains to the reader how the system of tyranny established by Mr. Creakle actually works:

”Here I sit at the desk again, watching his eye—humbly watching his eye, as he rules a ciphering-book for another victim whose hands have just been flattened by that identical ruler, and who is trying to wipe the sting out with a pocket-handkerchief. I have plenty to do. I don't watch his eye in idleness, but because I am morbidly attracted to it, in a dread desire to know what he will do next, and whether it will be my turn to suffer, or somebody else's. A lane of small boys beyond me, with the same interest in his eye, watch it too. I think he knows it, though he pretends he don't. He makes dreadful mouths as he rules the ciphering-book; and now he throws his eye sideways down our lane, and we all droop over our books and tremble. A moment afterwards we are again eyeing him. An unhappy culprit, found guilty of imperfect exercise, approaches at his command. The culprit falters excuses, and professes a determination to do better tomorrow. Mr. Creakle cuts a joke before he beats him, and we laugh at it,—miserable little dogs, we laugh, with our visages as white as ashes, and our hearts sinking into our boots.”

I’d say that a good deal of power established by bullies is based on the same foundation of fear and cowardice to this very day. – Dickens also criticizes the effect of fear and bullying with regard to education and moral and intellectual improvement:

”In a school carried on by sheer cruelty, whether it is presided over by a dunce or not, there is not likely to be much learnt. I believe our boys were, generally, as ignorant a set as any schoolboys in existence; they were too much troubled and knocked about to learn; they could no more do that to advantage, than any one can do anything to advantage in a life of constant misfortune, torment, and worry. But my little vanity, and Steerforth's help, urged me on somehow; and without saving me from much, if anything, in the way of punishment, made me, for the time I was there, an exception to the general body, insomuch that I did steadily pick up some crumbs of knowledge.”

It’s in comparison with Mr. Creakle’s school that, in looking back, we might come to the conclusion that Dr. Blimber was not such a bad person after all in that he might have made learning a tiring and unrewarding experience to his disciples by burdening them with too much work, but still he meant well and was not of an evil and mean disposition.

In Chapter 8, our little hero is going home for his first holidays. On his way back he meets Mr. Barkis again, who obtains further information on the object of his tender aspirations from David, like, for instance, Peggotty’s full name, which he dutifully chalks down in order to convey it to his memory. Unluckily, his noble cause does not seem to be a successful one as he has not even received an answer to his offer yet. Later, we will see that to Peggotty the marriage proposal seems a droll idea, which sends her into fits of laughter with her apron on her face. She might find it amusing, but one major reason of hers not deigning to answer Barkis is probably that she cannot imagine leaving her mistress alone in the clutches of the Murdstones.

Arriving at home, David finds his mother softly singing as of old, and he soon learns the reason why this is happening: Some weeks ago, his mother had come down with child, and he now has a little half-brother. Now instead of feeling jealous and afraid of being pushed even farther aside, like most children would do in such a situation, David loves his little brother and even takes him on his arm – something that soon stops because Miss Murdstone interferes. Most fortunately, the evening David arrives the Murdstones are visiting some neighbour, and so David, his mother and Peggotty spend a harmonious and happy evening together – it will be the last of that kind, however.

David’s holidays are anything but pleasant because Miss Murdstone does her best in order not to make him feel welcome and at home, e.g. by chalking off the days he still has to remain in The Rookery, and by being herself. David tries to keep out of the Murdstones’ way as much as possible but Murdstone soon puts a stop to this by insisting that David spend his free time in the parlour with them, where he does not dare to move for fear of incurring the wrath of Murdstone and his horrible sister.

Finally, David is allowed to go back to school, and he is actually glad to end his sojourn with the Murdstone’s although his parting glance at his mother shows that it might be the last time he has ever set eyes on her.

Just in time for the ending of the third instalment, David has to face a tragic event that will also bring about a change in his state of life. His birthday drawing nearer, he is waiting for a hamper from Peggotty but instead of the long-waited for delight, he gets the news of the death of his mother.

”'David Copperfield,' said Mrs. Creakle, leading me to a sofa, and sitting down beside me. 'I want to speak to you very particularly. I have something to tell you, my child.'
Mr. Creakle, at whom of course I looked, shook his head without looking at me, and stopped up a sigh with a very large piece of buttered toast.”

Fortunately, it is Mrs. Creakles who breaks the sad news to David, and not that brute of a headmaster. Interestingly, he also seems to be a little bit affected by the sad event, but he dare not meet David’s glance, and – like a true coward – he leaves it to his wife to convey the dreadful information to his pupil. It’s quite a relief that in the face of this calamity at least, David is given some understanding and caring by Mrs. Creakle, without her husband interfering. Then the narrator gives us insight into his feelings, which are very peculiar, for they are a mixture of grief and despair and, simultaneously, of being something special in the eyes of the other boys, who have not experienced such a blow of fate:

”But I remember that this importance was a kind of satisfaction to me, when I walked in the playground that afternoon while the boys were in school. When I saw them glancing at me out of the windows, as they went up to their classes, I felt distinguished, and looked more melancholy, and walked slower. When school was over, and they came out and spoke to me, I felt it rather good in myself not to be proud to any of them, and to take exactly the same notice of them all, as before.”

Ah, human nature is so full of inconsistencies! Dickens also gives us this little bit, probably with a view of whetting our appetites for the next instalment:

”I left Salem House upon the morrow afternoon. I little thought then that I left it, never to return.”

Will the Murdstones not send him back to school in order to save the expenses? If not, will Miss Murdstone teach him herself, or what other torture will they have in store for him?

This time, David is not travelling with Barkis, but he makes the acquaintance of Mr. Omer – who is, among many other things, a funeral furnisher and who prepares the funeral for David’s mother and the little baby, who died one day after his mother –, his daughter Minnie and her lover, Mr. Joram. Mr. Omer, Minnie and Joram seem to be very nice people, but their cheerfulness and, let’s say it, thoughtfulness with which they show it, especially the young lovers, grates with David’s grief and makes him feel even more miserable. And yet, to the boy this may come as a hint cruel hint at the fact that everybody has their own business in life and that what may be a catastrophe to one person may be a matter of course to another person.

Miss Murdstone, once more, takes pride in her businesslike manner even in the face of her sister-in-law’s demise,

”I do not doubt that she had a choice pleasure in exhibiting what she called her self-command, and her firmness, and her strength of mind, and her common sense, and the whole diabolical catalogue of her unamiable qualities, on such an occasion. She was particularly proud of her turn for business; and she showed it now in reducing everything to pen and ink, and being moved by nothing. All the rest of that day, and from morning to night afterwards, she sat at that desk, scratching composedly with a hard pen, speaking in the same imperturbable whisper to everybody; never relaxing a muscle of her face, or softening a tone of her voice, or appearing with an atom of her dress astray.”

but Murdstone seems to be affected with grief, as is shown here:

”Mr. Murdstone took no heed of me when I went into the parlour where he was, but sat by the fireside, weeping silently, and pondering in his elbow-chair.”

Of course, we don’t know if he was grieving over the loss of his son or his wife, or both. However, we have finally witnessed some trace of humaneness in him – although we might still consider him a brute, at least I will.

From Peggotty, David also learns the truth, namely that his mother had been feeling she was doomed and losing strength for a long time. This might also explain Peggotty’s not seriously considering leaving her mistress and accepting Barkis’s proposal of marriage. That, and maybe Barkis’s peculiar character … The chapter also closes with a reconciling note, like this:

”From the moment of my knowing of the death of my mother, the idea of her as she had been of late had vanished from me. I remembered her, from that instant, only as the young mother of my earliest impressions, who had been used to wind her bright curls round and round her finger, and to dance with me at twilight in the parlour. What Peggotty had told me now, was so far from bringing me back to the later period, that it rooted the earlier image in my mind. It may be curious, but it is true. In her death she winged her way back to her calm untroubled youth, and cancelled all the rest.
The mother who lay in the grave, was the mother of my infancy; the little creature in her arms, was myself, as I had once been, hushed for ever on her bosom.”

Poor David! What is going to become of him now that it is the Murdstones who are legally responsible for him, with the only friend he has got in the world being a servant that can be given a month’s notice whenever it pleases the Iron Dragon!

For now, I am just posting to say that when I read this section on Friday night, Dickens had me blubbering like a baby. Good thing I was not in a coffee shop at the time. Boy, I have not been moved by a book like this for a very long time.

I agree, Linda, it's so harrowing. One thing out of a gazillion that really stuck in my craw was that when David was home on holiday he was not allowed to spend time in the kitchen with Peggotty where he could have been relatively happy had he managed to forget the looming shadow of Murdstone. Peggotty wasn't good enough company for David, but these unspeakable wretches were ...

Chapter VII
I too was greatly absorbed into Dickens' world in these last three chapters, but was also left with many questions....

It is true Creakle is a sadist, preying on the children, especially the smaller ones the way he does. David's account of Creakle feeling pleasure from inflicting pain on these children comparing it to the satisfaction of a craving appetite...how very sad and angry it makes me. In the previous thread, there was a comment made about whether or not Mr. Murdstone could be a sadist depending on if he received any enjoyment in his treatment of David. I think it was you, Tristram, who pulled the quote about Murdstone (I was thinking of the very same instance actually), showing he could "possibly" be a sadist? My question is this... Does it make David's perception of Creakle anything less than it appears to be just because he is a child?

I’d say that a good deal of power established by bullies is based on the same foundation of fear and cowardice to this very day. – Dickens also criticizes the effect of fear and bullying with regard to education and moral and intellectual improvement

I think there is something to be said about the continuation of "bully tactics," it is a cyclical cycle. I don't see how Salem House type schools were really producing productive and enlightened members to society- Those that were, were probably outliers to begin with, I think. The environment in which they are to be mentally nourished in is not the most conducive to learning, by any means. David even points out how the boys are not learning and remaining ignorant... They were too much troubled and knocked about to learn.

What is funny to me is how David looks up to Steerforth. Yes, Steerforth is a bully of sorts and in spite of this David still holds him in high regard ...nor was I moved by fear of him. I admired him and loved him (105). David is found laughing at Creakle's joke at the expense of Traddle and feels guilt for his actions but does nothing to stand up for himself or his convictions. I am not so sure David is learning the best about the human condition. It is beginning to feel as if he is a bit wretched...Cheering at the departure of Mell, yet feeling remorse. It reminded me of the relationship between Clara Copperfield and Miss Murdstone; a parallel perhaps, between the two women and Steerforth and David. I am not so sure I like person David is becoming... The friend who only sympathizes and disagrees in silence (David and Traddle, David and Steerforth)...The worst kind of friend, the type that know they do wrong, but do nothing to make it right-Not the beginnings of a real stand up individual, but it is early, so I will wait and see.

Something else I picked up on was how David feels the need to divulge anything and everything to Steerforth; yet, he is not as inclined to share with him the regard in which David hold Em'ly? Steerforth's entrance into the meeting room while Mr. Peggotty, Ham and David were talking about Em'ly and her maturity was a little bit of a red flag for me. I get the feeling a lover's triangle might be in the near future and as the dynamics between Steerforth and David have already been established; I feel, it doesn't look very good for David.

Traddles is also the only one to criticize Steerforth for the humiliating insults he hurls at Mr. Mell, which shows that he must be a very decent and good-hearted boy.
I agree with this statement 100%, I love this character, and I wish David would learn a thing or two from him building a better foundation for his moral compass. I do not feel Steerforth is "steering" him in the right direction at all. I find Traddles' drawings of the skeletons to be staggering, its representation of pain not lasting forever continues to break my heart every time we read about them; but when Traddles gives them to David, well, the tears just fell.


Just consider how he decides that David should tell him the stories of “Peregrine Pickle” and the likes because he “can’t get to sleep very early at night, and [he] generally wake[s] rather early in the morning” without considering for a moment whether the same is true with regard to David.
This is really interesting because in my book on page 103, there's a footnote for The Arabian Nights...Steerforth says, We'll make some regular Arabian Nights of it. The footnote denotes in "Arabian Nights," Shahrazad tells stories every night to prevent her death from her husband, King Shahriyar. It further states the book is a deferring of death and the feminization of David by Steerforth.




Questions
In chapter VII, David writes about sitting at his desk...A buzz and hum go up around me, as if the boys were so many blue bottles (101)...why "blue bottles?" Is there any significance to this?

I thought it was terrible how Mr. Mell's affiliation with alms house was the reason for his termination at the Salem House. Was this a common practice...Does the affiliation diminish the rapport of the school since Mell was a Master?

These were, indeed, very powerful chapters. I never cease to marvel (and to comment on) how effortlessly Dickens seems to move within or between chapters by writing such contrasting events. The fears and the horrors of the school, the warmth and embraces of David's mother, David's initial ride home with Barkis to see his mother followed too soon with the next ride home with Mr. Omer to mourn his mother's death. Each event is written so well, and then each event is further enhanced by an opposing event or person.

Steerforth's presence appears to be gaining traction in the novel. While he seems to form a somewhat positive attachment with David it comes at a price. From obliging David to share his extra food to convincing David to read to him since he can't sleep, Steerforth, to this point in the novel, is an ambiguous figure. We have noted earlier how many of the names in this novel are of special interest. Steerforth sounds rather impressive, sound, reliable, dependable. Then there is the unfortunate and often punished Tommy Traddles, who is too often paddled. His obsession with drawing skeletons is eerie.

The novel is already filled to the brim with interesting, puzzling and debatable psychological profiles. Traddles and his skeletons, Creakle with his whips and paddles, the Murdstones with their all encompassing darkness and watchful brooding evil. On the other hand we have the pillowy (thanks again, Linda) Peggotty, the ever hopeful Barkis, Ham and the varied crew of the boathouse. Great stuff, indeed!

Chapter VIII & IX
Returning home for the holidays...Some very poignant lines in this chapter, I thought.

This section further illuminates the dynamics between Clara and Miss Murdstone, and perhaps a little too, on David and Steerforth. Both Clara and David are insecure and easily manipulated by the strong personalities of Miss Murdstone and Steerforth. The irony here is, the bully types are considered to be the most diffident, hiding behind the false facade of strength so commonly seen in today's society....I wonder if it is true for Miss Mursdtone and Steerforth, does it even apply to them?


**There is a footnote on page 118 for the "Dolphin" marking David's room. It says "Hotels and inns put names, not numbers, on the doors of the rooms. Dolphins were said to bring luck in the face of drowning; for example, the poet Arion, saved by a dolphin."

She might find it amusing, but one major reason of hers not deigning to answer Barkis is probably that she cannot imagine leaving her mistress alone in the clutches of the Murdstones.
Yes, but I didn't feel that she was completely opposed to the idea-I thought she was a little taken aback by somebody having an interest in her? I think she behaved like a little school girl because the idea of getting married was a little exciting, for when the time was right.

David walks into the parlor only to notice a young baby in his mother's lap. David calls out to her, she gets up to greet him and the next few lines spoken by him were absolutely perfect for the scene...I wish I had died, I wish I had died then, with that feeling in my heart! I should have been more fit for Heaven than I ever have been since(121). It was pleasantly surprising to know the Murdstones were absent from the homecoming; leaving Peggotty, Clara and David, on their own suggestive of old times. Upon the return of the Murdstones back into the Copperfield household, they brought with them a cold breeze of air which blew out Davy's light (literally) and returned him immediately back into the throes of despair (127)-I loved this part.

Her relationship with Clara Copperfield/Murdstone seems very bipolar to me; especially Clara's treatment of Peggotty. Peggotty instigates the reaction,granted, with remarks about the Murdstones, but Clara has a very sharp tongue...We go from loving to lashing in a matter of seconds! In fact, the excuses Clara makes to Peggotty for the ill doings of Miss Murdstone...When you know that she only does it out of kindness and the best intentions! You know she does, Peggotty-you know it well are completely without any merit, I thought. I cannot wrap my head around the fact that the Murdstone's are so cruel to David, right in front of Clara's eyes, that she still has it in her to vouch for them and believes she is truly at their mercy. I find Clara to be reminiscent of a person experiencing Stockholm syndrome, it's the only way I can make sense of the situation.

Clara's appearance, but more so her disposition being fluttered and anxious set the scene further placing emphasis on Clara's appeal to Peggotty ...Don't leave me Peggotty. Stay with me. 'It will not be for long, perhaps'. What a great instance of foreshadowing of events to follow immediately in the next chapter...Did anybody else feel the same?


Questions
Did anybody else find it peculiar David had two maternal figures both with the name Clara?

Is David cast out of fortune (whatever there may be) now that a child exists from the union between Murdstone and Clara...Is this why Peggotty was asking about Aunt Betsey and her forgiveness?

Hilary wrote: "I agree, Linda, it's so harrowing. One thing out of a gazillion that really stuck in my craw was that when David was home on holiday he was not allowed to spend time in the kitchen with Peggotty w..."

Yes, sitting in the same position all day; hands folded; staring at the clock watching the minutes go by, but not looking bored; no words spoken and nothing to be heard; day in and day out...I couldn't imagine how uncomfortable he would be. It's just repugnant!

Tristram wrote: "Dear Fellow Pickwickians,

I don’t know how Mr. Dickens does it, but he has once more drawn me completely into the story, and, what is more, into the world he manages to create. In Chapter 7, there..."

Just consider how he decides that David should tell him the stories of “Peregrine Pickle..."
Something else I wanted to mention about "Peregrine Pickle," information from another footnote...

"In chapter 2, Davy was referred to Davy Jones, (which suggests death by drowning: 'the same Davy Jones, according to the mythology of sailors, is the fiend that presides over the evil spirits of the deep'-Peregrine Pickle); also, 'Brooks of Sheffield': knives were manufactured in Sheffield, and Davy is 'sharp.'

With the heavy discussions surrounding the caul and what it signifies, I thought the additions of the "Dolphin" in message 8 and "Peregrine Pickle" would be helpful.

Chapter IX
Tristram wrote: "Just in time for the ending of the third instalment, David has to face a tragic event that will also bring about a change in his state of life. His birthday drawing nearer, he is waiting for a hamp..."

And yet, to the boy this may come as a hint cruel hint at the fact that everybody has their own business in life and that what may be a catastrophe to one person may be a matter of course to another person.
yes, and how absolutely profound and grave for a 10year old boy to realize this lesson at such a young age.

Of course, we don’t know if he was grieving over the loss of his son or his wife, or both. However, we have finally witnessed some trace of humaneness in him – although we might still consider him a brute, at least I will.
Tristram, how optimistic of you to think Murdstone is capable of humaneness. I wish I were a better person to have noticed this myself, unfortunately, I thought he was only grieving for his son, and maybe for a plan gone awry? I couldn't see compassion in him when I read it, I'm glad you thought otherwise.

Poor David! What is going to become of him now that it is the Murdstones who are legally responsible for him, with the only friend he has got in the world being a servant that can be given a month’s notice whenever it pleases the Iron Dragon!
I'm hoping Aunt Betsey will come to the rescue, but maybe some of David's tutelage will come from life on the waters...There are many references to his affiliations with life along the coast?

Tristram wrote: "Of course, we don’t know if he was grieving over the loss of his son or his wife, or both. However, we have finally witnessed some trace of humaneness in him – although we might still consider him a brute, at least I will.
"

By modern standards of step-parenthood, I agree that he is a brute. But by Victorian standards, is he? He seems to cane David a lot less frequently than his schoolmaster does. The school he chooses (did Clara have any input at all? Doubtful) to send David to seems cruel to us, but of course all of Dickens's schools (and of Bronte's) are horrible places, this less so than some others.

Isn't it better that he at least have some concern for David's behavior and future than that he ignore David or send him to sit by the fire with no books or education, or apprentice him to a manual laborer, as he might well have done?

I'm willing to balance my view of his brutishness with the possibility that he is doing a credible job of trying to do his best to make a man of a not very cooperative step-son.

Tristram wrote: "The chapter also closes with a reconciling note, like this:

”From the moment of my knowing of the death of my mother, the idea of her as she had been of late had vanished from me. I remembered her, from that instant, only as the young mother of my earliest impressions, who had been used to wind her bright curls round and round her finger, and to dance with me at twilight in the parlour. What Peggotty had told me now, was so far from bringing me back to the later period, that it rooted the earlier image in my mind."

An excellent example of the tricky issue of the adult narrator trying to recall the life of the boy. If all he remembered after her death was the earlier image, how accurate is what he tells us of her married life? Is he distorting that period because of the strength of his memory of the pre-marital period and his hatred of Mr. Murdstone?

Ami wrote: "Tristram wrote: "Dear Fellow Pickwickians,

I don’t know how Mr. Dickens does it, but he has once more drawn me completely into the story, and, what is more, into the world he manages to create. In..."

Ami

Thanks for adding the information about the dolphin footnote and reminding us about the Davy Jones reference. The evidence of the links between David and water seem to be building up in earnest. I am interested in tracking these "water" references since I doubt Dickens is not aware of what he is doing.

Symbolism and foreshadowing. This should be fun!

Hilary wrote: "I agree, Linda, it's so harrowing. One thing out of a gazillion that really stuck in my craw was that when David was home on holiday he was not allowed to spend time in the kitchen with Peggotty w..."

But what Victorian schoolboy should have been allowed to fraternize with a servant? Once out of short pants, his job was to become trained to be a Victorian gentleman, and Victorian gentlemen did not sit in the kitchen with the servants. The Murdstones would have been grossly irresponsible if they had let him so degrade himself.

Ami wrote: "I’d say that a good deal of power established by bullies is based on the same foundation of fear and cowardice to this very day. – Dickens also criticizes the effect of fear and bullying with regard to education and moral and intellectual improvement

I think there is something to be said about the continuation of "bully tactics," it is a cyclical cycle. "

And yet it was the norm of the British public school for a long time after Dickens's day. If you read, for example, George Orwell's "Such, Such were the Days" or almost any other memoir of English public school life up to World War I and perhaps for some time after, I think you will find that bullying was considered good for schoolboys -- it gave them backbone, made men of them, taught them to endure hardship, and qualified them to go out and impose the British empire over a wide swath of the globe.

Peter wrote: "The novel is already filled to the brim with interesting, puzzling and debatable psychological profiles. Traddles and his skeletons, Creakle with his whips and paddles, the Murdstones with their all encompassing darkness and watchful brooding evil. On the other hand we have the pillowy (thanks again, Linda) Peggotty, the ever hopeful Barkis, Ham and the varied crew of the boathouse. Great stuff, indeed! "

So far, at least, there seems to be an inverse relationship between happiness and class. The lower the class (Barkis, Ham) the happier; the higher the class (Murdstones, presumably Creakle as the headmaster of a public school) the less happy.

Tristram wrote: "Of course, we don’t know if he was grieving over the loss of his son or his wife, or both. "

We have just finished seeing Dombey grieve at the loss of wife and infant son; now we have Murdstone in the same situation.

Your assignment, should you choose to accept it, is to compare and contrast the manner of grieving of these two husband/fathers.

Mmm, Everyman, I'd rather have had him as apprentice to a manual labourer than in the situation in which he found himself. Though, I'm sure that in that era that would not have been a pleasant option.

Yes, it's true that Victorian times were very much into class divisions, but if the wondrous Murdstones hadn't appeared, David and Clara could have continued to enjoy Miss Clara Peggotty's company and been so much the happier for it. She was Clara's comfort right to the end.

Unfortunately, corporal punishment did continue in public schools for many a year. I did not attend a public school, thank God, but some of my relatives did, Heaven help them. I have come across many boys, in particular, who have had no clue how to deal with the opposite sex as a result.

Thankfully, my relatives came out apparently unscathed, though one of my cousins mourned bitterly at her children being sent off to boarding school at 8 years old.

Our school was a Grammar School and had, unfortunately, a considerable number of old-school teachers; they had come from jobs in public schools. I remember at age eleven that a boy was given 'six of the best' in front of our class for forgetting a few words of a poem. When the brutal, yes brutal, teacher had finished, the poor boy's face was as red as his hair. I am scarred by the image to this day.

Also, Everyman, I don't remember Dombey's feeling remorse at his wife's death. I'm sure that he did, in his own strange way, at the later loss of his son. The 'son' of Dombey and Son had been wiped out. That also struck me with Murdstone. At first, I thought, surely not: Murdstone weeping for Clara and then I remembered the loss of his son. Even a Murdstone would feel such a loss.

Hilary wrote: "I agree, Linda, it's so harrowing. One thing out of a gazillion that really stuck in my craw was that when David was home on holiday he was not allowed to spend time in the kitchen with Peggotty w..."

I totally agree Linda and Hilary. The final words of chapter, "the mother who lay in the grave, was the mother of my infancy; the little creature in her arms, was myself, as I had once been, hushed for ever on her bosom,” were so unbelievably powerful and moving to me. I too was a blubbering mess. It just brought home what a terrible terrible mess had been created by marrying Murdstone and what tragedy was brought on such a happy household.

Everyman wrote: "Tristram wrote: "Of course, we don’t know if he was grieving over the loss of his son or his wife, or both. "

We have just finished seeing Dombey grieve at the loss of wife and infant son; now we ..."

The question of the grieving of Dombey and Murdstone is an interesting one.

Dombey first. Certainly he grieved for Paul, his lost son and heir. The firm's succession was planted firmly on young Paul's shoulders. As to the nature of grief that Dombey felt towards his first wife, however, we have a more complicated problem. First, can we assume that Mr. Dombey was a very loving husband before the death of his first wife? I think not. Further, Mr. Dombey's feelings and interactions towards Florence before, and especially after the death of little Paul, clearly shows a mean-spirited, cold man who is not adverse to both psychological cruelty and physical abuse. Concerning his grief, and the process and manifestation of this grief, I see it as little more than what was a natural first reaction would be, and then an act more than a deeply felt loss of a soul-mate and life partner. Naturally, we must not forget the setting and time period in which the novel was written. Dickens could not have imagined a 21C society and all our social values. What Dickens could do, however, was to illustrate and create through thought, action and repetition a character. Any action that Mr. Dombey evidenced within a short time span in the novel is not indicative of the central truth and revelation of his character. I believe Dombey was capable of mourning only his own self-perceived objective loss. His wife was little more than an employee of the firm, and her job was to deliver a male child.

To the point of the novel where we now are, Murdsrone, unlike Dombey, is seen as an opportunist. We know he sees David's mother as a pretty thing, and sets out to conquer her. The fact that she has a home is certainly convenient, and he loses little time in both introducing his sister into the marital home and dominating the rather childlike Clara Copperfield. We have seen in an earlier post how Clara's use of pronouns slowly devolves from her residence being hers to it being his. This insight was Hilary's message 60 in chapters 6-9.

As to Murdstone's demonstration of grief, I would see it as more heart-felt, although I believe, sadly, he sees his loss of her as more the loss of a servant/handmaiden than a wife. The loss of his male son, to my way of thinking, is much more devastating than the loss of his wife. We will never know how the treatment of his own son would have contrasted to his well-recorded treatment of his stepson David.

Both men mourn the loss of their male son. Both men do not truly, deeply or spiritually mourn the loss of their wives. An interesting question to ask at the end of this novel will be who is the worse man, Dombey or Murdstone.

Kim wrote: "Here is an illustration by Frank Reynolds done in the 1920s. It is of Mr Murdstone.


"

Yes, THAT's a Mr. Murdstone!

Kate wrote: "Hilary wrote: "I agree, Linda, it's so harrowing. One thing out of a gazillion that really stuck in my craw was that when David was home on holiday he was not allowed to spend time in the kitchen ..."

Yes, Kate, I felt the same as you, and luckily, this time I was at home reading it, or otherwise the whole town would have come to take me as a crybaby.

Peter wrote: "Everyman wrote: "Tristram wrote: "Of course, we don’t know if he was grieving over the loss of his son or his wife, or both. "

We have just finished seeing Dombey grieve at the loss of wife and in..."

As to who is the worse man, I have already made up my mind seeing Murdstone as the one deserving this unflattering epithet. My reason for doing so is that Murdstone physically maltreats a defenseless child and that he seems to take pleasure in this. It would have been interesting to see whether he would have used the same brutish and sadistic principle in the education of his own son, and I believe he would have done so. As for Dombey, there was only one single instance in which he had recourse to physical violence, and that was in a situation where he found himself under a lot of stress, which I don't point out to excuse him but to intimate that physical violence is probably not his usual recourse and nothing he revels in. His cruelty consists in his lack of emotion and accessibility.

What do both men have in common? I would say that both were probably brought up by fathers who did not show any positive and loving attitude towards them but glorified what David aptly calls, with reference to Miss Murdstone the " diabolical catalogue of [...] unamiable qualities" such as firmness, determination, strength, the ability to suppress one's more tender self. I am not saying that these qualities are bad but that they are healthy only to a certain degree and as soon as they are the only values you put on the agenda, you are not doing your children a very great favour. It was a German paedagogue, whose name eludes me now, who said something like, "As soon as a child notices that it has to manipulate people and to fulfil their expectations in order to anything like love, it will stop looking for love and start striving for power instead."

We know that this has happened to Murdstone, who was also beaten as a child and whose sole credo seems to be "firmness" with regard to other people - which is, in fact, his excuse to ventthe frustration and the aggression of his childhood on those he considers weaker, and we might also assume that Dombey was brought up on pretty much the same principles.

The schools depicted by Dickens and the attitude of seeing bullying and being bullied as a preparation for later life show that we are not just talking about single cases but about generally accepted social "values" here. Values, which, by the way, also explain why a lot of people hailed the advent of War in August 1914, because these vicious principles were rooted deeply in the societies of all major European powers.

Everyman wrote: "Hilary wrote: "I agree, Linda, it's so harrowing. One thing out of a gazillion that really stuck in my craw was that when David was home on holiday he was not allowed to spend time in the kitchen ..."

I agree with you here that at that time it was unthinkable for a young boy to fraternize with the servants of the house. David's mother gave her son a very unusual example by having Peggotty sit with them at the dinner table as though she were one of the family. Saying that, it was nice in her all the same ;-)

Everyman wrote: "Tristram wrote: "Of course, we don’t know if he was grieving over the loss of his son or his wife, or both. However, we have finally witnessed some trace of humaneness in him – although we might st..."

Everyman, you are a really good lawyer in that what you say about Murdstone's behaviour towards David cannot easily be refuted. And yet I would ask myself if he did not see David as an alien, as some sort of intruder who was in the way of the prospective children he was going to have with David's mother. So even if Murdstone's measures would be accepted by society as completely in tune with what was socially becoming, we might still seriously doubt the motives he had and assume that the pain he inflicted was inflicted viciously and not with a view of making David a better gentleman.

Ami wrote: "Does it make David's perception of Creakle anything less than it appears to be just because he is a child?"

Ami,

I don't think so. And neither do I think that we are getting an unreflected account of David's schooldays here. Comments like the one on the inaptitude of a school that only works with pressure and fear show that the first person narrator is drawing on his more mature experience in life, and that the anguish with which little David would look at Creakle is still borne out by the more mature David's assessment of Creakle, when he says,

"I am sure when I think of the fellow now, my blood rises against him with the disinterested indignation I should feel if I could have known all about him without having ever been in his power; but it rises hotly, because I know him to have been an incapable brute, who had no more right to be possessed of the great trust he held, than to be Lord High Admiral, or Commander-in-Chief—in either of which capacities it is probable that he would have done infinitely less mischief."

Ami wrote: "In chapter VII, David writes about sitting at his desk...A buzz and hum go up around me, as if the boys were so many blue bottles (101)...why "blue bottles?" Is there any significance to this?"

In my book it does not read "blue bottles" but "bluebottles", and then it makes sense.

Ami wrote: "I thought it was terrible how Mr. Mell's affiliation with alms house was the reason for his termination at the Salem House. Was this a common practice...Does the affiliation diminish the rapport of the school since Mell was a Master? "

I think that might have created a problem in the eyes of very snobbish people, and therefore it would have been bad publicity for the school.

Ami wrote: "Did anybody else find it peculiar David had two maternal figures both with the name Clara?"

I think I pointed this out two weeks ago but later the narrator himself commented on it, in connection with the keyhole conversation:

"She did not replace my mother; no one could do that; but she came into a vacancy in my heart, which closed upon her, and I felt towards her something I have never felt for any other human being. It was a sort of comical affection, too; and yet if she had died, I cannot think what I should have done, or how I should have acted out the tragedy it would have been to me."


Both women are called Clara, and yet one of them is at least partially blind, or at least turns a blind eye to how her son is treated.

Tristram wrote: "Ami wrote: "In chapter VII, David writes about sitting at his desk...A buzz and hum go up around me, as if the boys were so many blue bottles (101)...why "blue bottles?" Is there any significance t..."

Everyman wrote: "Ami wrote: "I’d say that a good deal of power established by bullies is based on the same foundation of fear and cowardice to this very day. – Dickens also criticizes the effect of fear and bullyin..."

Tristram wrote: "Peter wrote: "Everyman wrote: "Tristram wrote: "Of course, we don’t know if he was grieving over the loss of his son or his wife, or both. "

We have just finished seeing Dombey grieve at the loss ..."

Values, which, by the way, also explain why a lot of people hailed the advent of War in August 1914, because these vicious principles were rooted deeply in the societies of all major European powers.
It's very true what you both (Tristram and Everyman) have said about stringent child rearing and how this particular characteristic propagated "in societies of all major European powers." Both of my parents grew up and attended school overseas in countries considered to be British territories (at one time), and the stories about their days in school were horrific as well...I failed to realize the connection until I read your posts.

Everyman, I will read Orwell you suggested.

Bluebottles
In my book it's written "blue-bottles," but "bluebottles" are flowers...Is that what you were thinking, Tristram?

Ami wrote: "Tristram wrote: "Ami wrote: "In chapter VII, David writes about sitting at his desk...A buzz and hum go up around me, as if the boys were so many blue bottles (101)...why "blue bottles?" Is there a..."

The reference to blue-bottles or bluebottles could be looked at in a different manner. I think the clue is in the phrase "a buzz and hum go up around me." I take that phrase to be comparing the boys to flies. The word bluebottle is used to describe a type of fly that has a bluish hue/colour. I have often heard the word bluebottle used to describe those pesky flies that invade our homes, kitchens and annoy us with their buzzing in the summer as we try to get to sleep on hot evenings.

Tristram wrote: "Peter wrote: "Everyman wrote: "Tristram wrote: "Of course, we don’t know if he was grieving over the loss of his son or his wife, or both. "

We have just finished seeing Dombey grieve at the loss ..."

The Dombey/Murdstone discussion is very interesting. No matter which one of those fathers/step-fathers is the more despicable, I think the fact that they are developed with such complexity demonstrates how Dickens is evolving as a writer. Dickens continues to create wonderful, wacky and weird characters, but, unlike his earlier novels, many of the most recent characters, especially the dark, mean-spirited and dastardly ones, have a depth of psychology that is a back drop to their appearance in the novels. While Dickens does not take up enormous amounts of time and space or write entire chapters explaining characters such as Dombey or Murdstone, he is much more conscious of giving his readers some insight into their background, biography and motivations. Quilp was a thoroughly unlikeable character, but his psychological profile is not as evolved.

Peter wrote: "Ami wrote: "Tristram wrote: "Ami wrote: "In chapter VII, David writes about sitting at his desk...A buzz and hum go up around me, as if the boys were so many blue bottles (101)...why "blue bottles?..."

Yes, I read about them too, but questioned the spelling in relation to the text. The flies make the most sense, I agree. Thank you!

Tristram wrote: "As to who is the worse man, I have already made up my mind seeing Murdstone as the one deserving this unflattering epithet. My reason for doing so is that Murdstone physically maltreats a defenseless child and that he seems to take pleasure in this. It would have been interesting to see whether he would have used the same brutish and sadistic principle in the education of his own son, and I believe he would have done so ..."

I agree. Murdstone is far worse. I cannot imagine Dombey flogging a stepchild, if he had one. His problem was that he was too consumed with the success of his business and neglectful of anything that got in its way (i.e. Florence). Even Paul Jnr was neglected, to some degree. This would be, no doubt, until his father saw him as mature enough to fit into his place in the business.

I also see Murdstone as neglectful, since he was only interested in having things the way he wanted them, therefore totally ignored Clara's needs and those of her son, including the life they had already created for themselves. What makes him far worse than Dombey is that he did it with violence. People who behave like that are desperate control freaks, who really have lost control if that is the method they have to rely on. They lack the intelligence to reason so have to resort to bullying and manipulation, failing to see that violence never earns respect. As they say, "the apple never falls far from the tree," so it would come as no surprise if Murdstone was treated like that as a child too.

In my opinion, Murdstone gets another bad mark by using his spiteful sister as an accomplice by allowing her to take over Clara's house and position in the family. Dombey did not interfere with others or encourage dominant relationships that were demeaning to others. In particular, I am thinking of his sister. Although I wasn't much of a fan of his sister, he didn't push her to manipulate others for his own personal gain.

There is still no doubt, even next to Mr Murdstone, that Dombey was an extremely selfish and neglectful parent, who treated his own child terribly with damaging effect. However, Murdstone wins the title of worst antagonist for me. Violent, controlling and manipulative behaviour to get one's way, is never going to sit well for me. Either way, there is no excuse for either of their behaviour.

Thinking about all this, a question comes to mind. Is Miss Murdstone an equal accomplice with her brother, or is she just a pawn who has been unwittingly manipulated and controlled for Mr Murdstone purposes?

Peter wrote: "The reference to blue-bottles or bluebottles could be looked at in a different manner. I think the clue is in the phrase "a buzz and hum go up around me." I take that phrase to be comparing the boys to flies. The word bluebottle is used to describe a type of fly that has a bluish hue/colour. I have often heard the word bluebottle used to describe those pesky flies that invade our homes, kitchens and annoy us with their buzzing in the summer as try to get to sleep on hot evenings."

Bluebottles to me, being English, mean flies. Annoying things they are. But not as bad as they are here in Australia!

Oh dear, Kate, not even worse! Bluebottles in Ireland are annoying pesky things that you can never seem to get rid of. They love to divebomb and be generally obnoxious. I could imagine Australia having a more giant variety!

Hilary wrote: "Oh dear, Kate, not even worse! Bluebottles in Ireland are annoying pesky things that you can never seem to get rid of. They love to divebomb and be generally obnoxious. I could imagine Australia..."

In the Northern Territory they are horrendous. You can't open your mouth to eat with them trying to dive in. They like nostrils too. Urgh! They're putrid. So cork hats are a definite necessity!

Kate wrote: "Tristram wrote: "As to who is the worse man, I have already made up my mind seeing Murdstone as the one deserving this unflattering epithet. My reason for doing so is that Murdstone physically malt..."

Well phrased and argued Kate. What further horrors may await us!

Peter wrote: "Well phrased and argued Kate. What further horrors may await us!"

Thank you Peter. Yes, what horrors await?! I can't wait to read the next instalment, although I imagine it can only get worse for David. It's taking some will power to wait until the weekend to read, so it's fresh in my mind for the discussion board.

Kate, is that a serious comment about the cork hats?! If so, the inventor was a genius.

Peter wrote: "We know he sees David's mother as a pretty thing, and sets out to conquer her....."

I think this is the key to Murdstone, and the basis for his sadistic behaviour. He tells David that he beats obstinate horses & dogs to conquer them. With Clara it's more complicated. He already has her heart, body, son, house, and possessions. That's not enough; he wants her mind and spirit, too, and derives satisfaction from controlling her. I found the wink he gives his sister very disturbing, followed by the claim that David is tormenting his mother, when he knows he is tormenting her by caning David.

I had a Math moment (sorry, Kim), and realized Clara would have been pregnant when Murdstone canes David. When she tells Jane she is not quite well, she probably isn't -- morning sickness, in addition to the emotional trauma. Pregnancy was viewed as a delicate condition in that era. He now has to live with his actions (all of them) after they die.

When Clara dies, David is no longer of use to Murdstone in controlling her. He has also ruined the opportunity he had for happiness. I interpreted Murdstone's grief as combined (hopefully) with a shadow of a conscience. Facing the death of loved (?) ones, he faces his own mortality. I am curious about his religious views. They attend church (although I suppose he could be a hypocrite and only use that to control Clara as well) and presumably at his marriage swore to love and cherish Clara before God. Does he consider his soul, and where it might be headed, when he is ruminating over his loss?

Great points, Vanessa. The idea of churchgoing I think was one almost of necessity for so-called respectable families in the Victorian era. They had to be seen to be doing their duty. This is not to say that many churchgoers did not believe; no doubt many did.

We have the same sort of thing in Ireland, though not to the same extent. There are certain churches where church attendance singles out the respectable people from the 'non-respectable'. I think that, nowadays, it is less so in England, as I'm sure you're aware. More often than not, in this case, those who turn up at church on Sundays are there as a statement of belief rather than from a keeping-up-with-the-Joneses motivation.

Yes, regarding duty as a community, it's interesting in the early chapters that David sees the neighbours watching and whispering when his mother leaves church with the Murdstones, and he wonders if they see the change in her. We don't know if they try to help while David is away, but when they reappear at the funeral, it's as though they have been powerless to assist their neighbour (in particular the meek doctor, who suggests to Miss M that there is "a great improvement" in David). Although there are many familiar faces, there's a feeling of detachment.

Kim wrote: ""Father!" said Minnie, playfully. "What a porpoise you do grow!"

Illustration by Fred Barnard"

Describing a funeral worker as a Porpoise is an odd coincidence, in light of the Dolphin footnote reference (thanks, Ami) about providing luck against drowning.

Vanessa wrote: "Peter wrote: "We know he sees David's mother as a pretty thing, and sets out to conquer her....."

I think this is the key to Murdstone, and the basis for his sadistic behaviour. He tells David th..."

Good comments on Murdstone and the church. I think his attendance at church is just a social formality rather than any truly held, or earnestly believed, religious action. The psychological and physical events that go on within the confines of their home and the pious attendance of church outside the home are alien environments to one another.

Interesting math calculations on Clara's pregnancy as well. How stressful it would have been to be pregnant with Murdstone's child and be aware of how your husband treats his step-child. We have seen Clara as being rather childlike. Perhaps that was somewhat of a psychological defence mechanism for survival. The first marriage with David's father, Clara was, I believe, both loved and in love. With Murdstone she regressed deeper into a dependency to survive.

Hilary wrote: "Mmm, Everyman, I'd rather have had him as apprentice to a manual labourer than in the situation in which he found himself."

But in that case, with the physical demands put on manual laborers (look at Tess digging roots, and she was a woman), he probably would have been virtually crippled by the age of 40, if not before. Whereas I think we may find, as the book progresses, that he survives his schooling and gets a job as an educated person.

Tristram wrote: "As to who is the worse man, I have already made up my mind seeing Murdstone as the one deserving this unflattering epithet. My reason for doing so is that Murdstone physically maltreats a defenseless child and that he seems to take pleasure in this. "

Ah. But David is only a step-child, not his own child, so there is no obligation to love him, only to try to raise him to be an obedient and productive young man. He inflicts physical punishment, but doesn't, as far as I have seen, inflict psychological punishment. Whereas Dombey, who has an obligation to love and cherish his own daughter, openly rejects her and deprives her of any semblance of affection, inflicting a severe psychological punishment on one he had a moral obligation to love.

Both physical and psychological punishment of a child are bad, but which one in the long run is really the more cruel? Physical wounds heal. Psychological wounds, not so, which is where Florence really is unrealistic.

Vanessa wrote: "He [Murdstone] now has to live with his actions (all of them) after they die. "

Somehow I don't think it will bother him much. He now owns a nice house, so he is in a great position to find another pretty and rather silly young woman to marry and bend to his (and his sister's) will.

The Dombey/Murdstone discussion is interesting in that I am about 80% done with Dombey and Son, and it struck me while reading it how it has many elements that are similar to David Copperfield.

In these early chapters, the similarities in temperament between Dombey and Murdstone, but also both have a sister who plays a big role in their mistreatment of Florence and David respectively and enjoys poisoning the relationship between the parent and child further.

I was really struck by Mr. Murdstone weeping--that such a harsh, seemingly unfeeling man could actually feel grief and weep was astounding. I like that Dickens didn't make a caricature out of him but let him grieve, regardless of what he was really mourning. I did feel that he loved his wife and baby despite how we feel about him. We see him only through David's eyes, but the fact that he could weep makes me think his own backstory might be worth hearing about.

I was a bit disappointed that Dickens chose poor David's birthday as the day on which he learned about his mother's death--seemed a bit too maudlin and not really necessary. The entire episode, from his hearing about it from Mrs. Creakle to the scene where he is fitted for mourning clothes and hears the nails being pounded into his mother's coffin, to being brought into the room where his mother and baby brother lay, was gut-wrenching enough without having to throw the birthday in as well!