Victorians! discussion

Week Nine of Dombey and Son

The action really ratchets up in this week’s reading! Did anyone foresee the directions some of these plotlines would take? We have a clue early on in Chapter XLVI when we are told that there was not a change in Carker’s habits, but that “the whole man was intensified” like a cat about to pounce on its prey (634). We are privy to Good Mrs. Brown and her daughter, Alice, watching him with loathing as he rides to work. We still don’t know what their grudge against him is, but it is deep and implacable. The old woman thinks that the extortion of money would be a good punishment for him, but Alice believes the grievance is one that money can’t resolve.

Mrs. Brown and Rob the Grinder seem to be old acquaintances as she helped him build up his collection of pigeons. He is less than enthusiastic about their reunion and begs her to leave him alone, citing Carker’s unnatural prescience with obvious terror. Mrs. Brown persuades him to agree to one last meeting as friends, which he does reluctantly. She is prevented by her daughter from begging a shilling from the boy.

Back at Dombey and Son, Mr. Carker the Manager encounters his brother delivering mail to his office. The younger needles the older about asking after Mr. Dombey’s health, and when John humbly asserts his and the other employees’ hopes for Dombey’s recovery, Mr. Carker scoffs. It is clear to see what his real feelings are by those he attributes to his brother and the other employees. He thinks everyone feels as he does and is unable to understand that they don’t. He insists to his brother that “there is not a man employed here . . . who wouldn’t be glad at heart to see his master humbled: who does not hate him, secretly: who does not wish him evil rather than good: and who would not turn upon him, if he had the power and boldness” (643). Mr. Carker the Manager uses very derogatory terms to his brother and his brother accepts his rudeness quietly, as always.

As Mr. Carker approaches the Dombey house and looks at the window where Florence used to sit, we get a possible hint of how his plans may have changed when he says quietly to himself that there was a time when it paid off to watch even the Dombey “rising little star” but that now “a planet has arisen, and [he] is lost in its light” (644). What do you think he means by this?

He reflects on the convoluted relationship he has built with Edith as he rides: she is a woman who hates him deeply, but has been “led on by his craft, and her pride and resentment, to endure his company, and little by little to receive him as one who had the privilege to talk to her of her own defiant disregard of her own husband” and suffered him to “draw nearer and yet nearer to her every day, in spite of the hate she cherished for him.” In the depths of her hatred, too far down for her to acknowledge, “lay the dark retaliation, whose faintest shadow seen once and shuddered at, and never seen again, would have been sufficient stain upon her soul” (645). Edith hates both Carker and Dombey, but it sounds as though she will use the one to get revenge on the other.

Meanwhile, the Domby marriage is at a stalemate. While Dombey cannot conceive how his own wife can unaccountably put “herself in opposition to the recognition of his vast importance, and to the acknowledgment of her complete submission to it” but he still considers her, overall, as “a lady capable of doing honour, if she would, to his choice and name, and of reflecting credit on his proprietorship” (646). Edith, on the other hand, still feels that her life has come down to “one figure directing a crowd of humiliations and exasperations against her” and that figure is her husband (646).

It has been six months since Mr. Dombey’s accident, and nothing has changed. Florence has given up hope of ever winning his love and now regards him as a dearly loved figure from her past. She loves him as who he might have been, not as who he is. She sees him through the same misty veil that she sees her mother and little Paul, and now, Edith. Her relationship with Edith has faded away; Edith has withdrawn from her, and since the threats made against Florence are unknown to her, she is completely baffled as to why her loving stepmama has distanced herself. When Florence confronts her, Edith is unable to tell her the truth, but assures the girl that she is still loved. The only comfort Florence has is that she is no longer torn between the two in her affections.

On the day before the Dombeys' second wedding anniversary, everything comes to a head. While at dinner, Mr. Dombey informs Edith that there will be guests for dinner on the following day, and she responds that she will not be dining at home. Dombey tries to ignore her defiance and continues to outline the plans for the anniversary dinner, but she doubles down. So, in one of Dombey’s more mature and endearing habits, he turns to Mr. Carker and begins talking about Edith as though she is not present, and instructing Carker on what to tell her. I fully expect him to respond, “I know you are, but what am I?” if she calls him a name.

Edith demands to speak to Dombey alone, pointing out that Florence is present, but Dombey is unmoved by this, other than to be infuriated that Edith is so concerned for Florence’s feelings but obviously couldn’t care less about his. He insists that Florence stay so she can see what a terrible example her stepmother is, and that Edith submit to his will for the anniversary dinner.

Edith lays everything out on the table, asking him if it is not enough that he has insulted her by forcing her to deal with Carker, or by holding Florence’s welfare over her head as a threat, or by forcing her to relive the agony of the memories of her wedding. She castigates him for allowing Florence to witness her humiliation at his hands but that, even for Florence, she cannot force herself to submit to his will. Dombey is once again enraged that his neglected child is “put forth by even this rebellious woman, as powerful where he was powerless, and everything where he was nothing!” (657).

It is interesting to note that the narrator describes Carker as sitting still and listening, “with his eyes cast down” multiple times during this whole scene. I still see it as the stillness of the cat, about to pounce; the terrible patience and self-discipline needed to ensure that the prey is snared. Dombey, still completely clueless of his wife’s feelings, warns her that her behavior will not conciliate him, and she responds that if she thought of anything that would conciliate him, she would immediately do the opposite.

Edith ups the ante by asking for him to end their marriage, and Dombey is flabbergasted. A Domby? Deserted? Divorced? Is she mad??? His response reveals everything that we need to know about him: “Do you know who I am, Madam? Do you know what I represent? Did you ever hear of Dombey and Son? People to say that Mr. Dombey–Mr. Dombey!--was separated from his wife!” (658-9). He goes on to say that he does not allow himself to be thwarted by anyone or “to suffer anybody to be paraded as a stronger motive for obedience in those who owe obedience to me than I am myself” (659). He then halfway accuses Florence of being in league with her rebellious stepmother and vows to visit his severest displeasure on her. Carker finally speaks and urges Mr. Dombey to reconsider the separation. Edith stands and, one by one, strips every jewel he has given her from her body, stomps it beneath her feet, and leaves.

Florence understood enough from the conversation that Edith’s changed manners were a result of sacrifices made for her stepdaughter’s sake and seeks her out that evening after her father goes out. On her search, she sees a man’s figure, coming down the stairs. No servant is escorting him to the door, no bell rung for his departure. He quietly slips out and leaves, and Florence realizes it is Mr. Carker. She gets an overwhelming feeling of dread and horror from seeing him and retreats to her room. The next day, the day of the anniversary, Florence waits on the stairs to try to catch her stepmother before she leaves the house. Florence is shocked and horrified when Edith, at the sight of her, recoils and shrieks for her to stay away. She screams at Florence not to speak to her or touch her. Edith then drops to her knees and crawls by her like an animal, then springs up and runs away. What do you think happened to cause this unprecedented reaction in Edith? I have my own thoughts but want to see what you think.

Edith goes out and doesn’t return. The alarm is raised the next morning, and Mr. Dombey is beside himself. He breaks into her dressing room to find all of her beautiful gowns and costly belongings thrown haphazardly on the floor. There is also a letter confirming his worst fears. She has left her husband, dishonoured him, by fleeing with the man she professed to hate. Dombey rushes out to Carker’s house with violence in his heart. He returns without having found the runaways and retires to his room. When he comes out of his room, Florence, overwhelmed with love, rushes toward him, but he “lifted up his cruel arm, and struck her, crosswise” and told her to go join her stepmother since they had always been in league against him (665).

Florence is stunned beyond words by this and runs out of the house, finally realizing that she has no real father and acknowledging his cruelty, neglect, and hatred. In the next chapter, she is running through the streets, lost and alone, when she remembers that a haven exists for her at the Midshipman. With Diogenes at her heels, she finally reaches the shop in time to faint at Captain Cuttle’s feet. Thinking at first that it is the relentless Mrs. MacStinger, he is even more astonished to find that it is his Heart’s Delight.

After he revives her, she begs to stay and he assures her that she is safe. He is eager to take care of her, fixing her breakfast and giving her his room. I love all the names he has for her: Heart’s Delight, my pretty, beauty, my lady lass, di'mond, etc. While they are eating breakfast, Diogenes makes Florence uneasy by barking incessantly at the door, even though Captain Cuttle assures her that there is no one there. Later, Mr. Toots shows up and relates an encounter he had with someone outside the shop who requests that Captain Cuttle come to the broker’s office for a brief meeting. Captain Cuttle does so, leaving Toots in charge of the shop, completely unaware of who slumbers above stairs.

Captain Cuttle returns, looking pale, red-eyed, and agitated enough to require a healthy dose of rum. He tells the concerned Mr. Toots that nothing is wrong; in fact, quite the contrary. He asks Toots to leave for the present, but it is clear that something of significance has taken place. I wonder what it could be? :) Florence awakens that evening and while the Captain cooks dinner, she reflects on her position in the world. She is not sure where she will go or how she will live, but she knows that she cannot return to her former home. She goes downstairs and tries to force herself to eat while the Captain reminisces about Walter, asking her a million times if Walter had drowned and forcing her to respond each and every time.

The next evening the Captain’s behavior is even more bizarre, causing Florence great uneasiness, but he begs her leave to tell her a story about a storm he knows about. While telling it, he repeatedly prevents her from looking about but wants her eyes on him. At the end of the story, Walter appears! It was his story, and he was the sole survivor of the terrible shipwreck. I’m a little foggy on the timeline here–it seems like it took him a very long time to get home, like years. I mean, this is the Dombeys' second anniversary, and they weren’t even married when he left. I know ship voyages took a long time back then, but I thought it was like 2-3 months, not years. Any thoughts?

Florence is happy to have her “brother” back, but Walter, faced with the lovely young woman she has become, is definitely not having brotherly thoughts about her. He realizes how traumatized she is when she cries out at the very mention of her father. They set up the bedroom upstairs into a little sitting room for Florence, and ponder the whereabouts of Uncle Sol. When the Captain starts hinting around about Walter and Florence being here, thrown together by Fate, Walter stops him and firmly reminds him of how inappropriate it would be for him to start courting her when she is basically dependent on him and at his mercy. Captain Cuttle reluctantly agrees, but you can tell he doesn’t really believe it.

They decide that Florence needs a female attendant without delay, and Susan Nipper would be the perfect choice. Realizing that Mr. Toots is their best bet to locate this young lady, they are relieved when he shows up at their door. He is distraught, having just heard the news of Miss Dombey’s disappearance, and they are able to relieve his mind that she is safe and well. This news greatly reduces his stress level, and he manfully welcomes Walter (named Lieutenant Walters by Toots) even though he now realizes that this is the man that Captain Cuttle described as “made for” Florence. Toots is allowed to see with his own eyes that Florence is well and upon begging her for a chance to serve her, she brings up the retrieval of Susan. He admits that he doesn’t know exactly where she went, but vows that this will not stop him from bringing her back to Florence. He leaves, a man on a mission.

Florence realizes that Walter avoids her company unless directly summoned and attributes it to the painful things he has experienced as a result of knowing her. She confronts him about it, assuring him that she understands his aversion and bears him no ill will. He quickly corrects her misapprehension, giving her to understand that their relationship has forever changed due to his feelings for her, not because he blames her for his troubles. She is a woman now, and he cannot feel as a brother to her. Furthermore, he is not in a position to offer her anything, so cannot approach her in that way. Blushing, she finally understands what he is saying, and since he feels that he can’t propose to her, she proposes to him. And just like that, they’re engaged! When Florence goes downstairs, the Captain takes one look at her and knows all. He is thrilled to death, and likes to think that his bequeathing his property to them jointly brought it all about.

Meanwhile, Dombey is riding out the scandal that has rocked his house alone. He will not discuss it, even with his sister Louisa. He doesn’t know where Florence is and has made no effort to find her, but he “does not think he has lost her. . . . He has lived too long shut up in his towering supremacy, seeing her, a patient, gentle creature, in the path below it” to think that she could break free of him (716). As to how he is doing himself, as “shaken as he is by his disgrace, he is not yet humbled to the level earth. . . . the tree is struck, but not down” (716). However, the experience has left marks on him–his hollow eyes, haggard features, and brooding air are testaments to that. As “impenetrable as before, he is still an altered man: and, proud as ever, he is humbled, or those marks would not be there” (716).

Major Bagshot and Cousin Feenix come to show support, and Feenix (doesn’t this sound like it should be a rapper’s name?) apologizes for the behavior of his “lovely and accomplished relative” (718). Mr. Dombey accepts their professions of support but declines to discuss the matter with them, either.

Meanwhile, Miss Tox, heavily veiled, has been coming to visit with Mrs. Pipchin every day to keep abreast of Mr. Dombey’s state of mind. Mrs. Pipchin regards Edith’s departure as a stroke of good fortune, a case of good riddance to bad rubbish. Miss Tox agrees wholeheartedly, shocked at the very thought of any woman being mad enough to leave Mr. Dombey. She is no longer a part of his world; as Dickens notes in a Shakespearean allusion, she is “by no means a bright or particular star” (721). At the office, the speculation is all about who will replace Mr. Carker, who has also never reappeared. It sounds as though both the office staff and the household servants are living under relaxed standards these days.

So what do you think about these major events?!? What do you think happened between Edith and Carker? One moment she hates him, the next she is eloping with him? What do you think about Florence’s engagement? Will Susan Nipper return to her? What will happen to poor, lovelorn Mr. Toots? Where is Rob the Grinder now that his employer has disappeared? I would love to hear your thoughts, questions, or predictions!

Oh my Gosh! What a Whirlwind!

Florence:
1. I’m almost glad that Dombey finally did something so heinous that she is forced to see him for the narcissistic gasbag that he is.
2. Really glad that she remembered Captain Cuttle and the Midshipman.
3. Walter’s drowned, isn’t he? So, so sweet!
And the story of the survivor! I just loved that whole scene.

Edith: My heart is wrenched by her proud beauty trying to withstand the crush of the two devils of her household. To think that it wasn’t enough for her to have to to give up Florence, only to see her used as a tool against her anyway! Misery!
.

Cindy wrote: "I’m a little foggy on the timeline here–it seems like it took him a very long time to get home, like years. ."

the timeline IS puzzling here (and not for the first time either). Florence was 14 when Walter left and is now 17. Did the ship that took him up never touch port during all that time, so that he could have sent a letter even if he did not choose to come home himself? Never ever. (Magellan took 3 years to sail around the world, but that was 300 years earlier - Jules Verne's 80 days would still sound very bold in the 1870s. I think it would have taken a year at most, with stops on the way)

... but well, Mr. Dickens would not let anything so trivial as time stand in the way of his plot ;-)

I think the motives for the elopement of Carker and Edith must be quite mixed and muddled for both of them: Carker clearly, finally, sees a way to take revenge on Dombey - not for something specific Dombey did, but for years of suppression and condescension. But he is also fascinated by Edith, or the type of woman she is - as shown by the portrait of the woman (Alice?) in his house which he chooses to watch every day when sitting at his table. Or rather fascinated by the idea of having her in his power. - As to Edith, she feels she is in Carker's power, and she hates him - but it could also have developed into a hate-love relationship; plus, for her too, a means of taking revenge on and breaking free from Dombey. Although with Carker, she would jump out of the frying pan into the fire, and she must know this.

... and Captain Cuttle is my big favourite in these chapters, bustling and beaming. 'Drownded. Ain't he?'

sabagrey wrote: "I think the motives for the elopement of Carker and Edith must be quite mixed and muddled for both of them..."

But how does Carker have any power over her at this point? She has pretty much revealed everything that was hidden. She told Dombey to his face how much she hates him and sees her wedding day as a day of catastrophe. She brought all the secret ways he has tried to control or punish her out into the open. She clearly states her desire to leave the marriage. Carker, on the other hand, has hidden his loathing of Dombey. Even when he urges Dombey to consider allowing Edith to have the separation, he cloaks it in language of humility (aside from his usual subtle digs, which seem to always fail to penetrate Dombey's sense of self-importance). I think the real surprise of the situation is Carker's leaving, since of the two, he seems (to the world) to be the most devoted to Dombey. After Edith says she wants out of the marriage, I fully expected her to hit the road. I never dreamed Carker would abandon his (presumably) high-paying, respectable position in such a scandalous way.

I don't know if Dickens would go THIS dark, but my first thought was rape. Florence sees Carker sneaking out of the house alone late in the evening, and Edith stays in her room all day the next day. When she does see Florence, she screams and won't let her touch or speak to her. She actually crawls across the floor to avoid her and runs away. I suppose this could be a dramatic reaction to the decision to run away with Carker, but it also looks like the reaction to an assault. There is also the fact that Dickens leaves the actual details behind the elopement shrouded. We have witnessed Carker and Edith having private conversations before, most of them about her unhappiness in her marriage. This could be because information that Dickens wants to keep under wraps until the end is included, but it could also be because there is something that he can only allow to be deduced by inference included.

This also makes more sense to me in the context of them leaving together. Why would Edith not just fly on her own? I can see her refusing to take anything material she has gained from the marriage with her to finance her escape, but she hates Carker, as well, so why would she allow herself to be beholden to him for the same reason? Does she think this is the only way Dombey will not pursue her and forcibly bring her back, if her reputation is soiled? It could also work with the rape theory. If she has been raped, she could feel herself to be so soiled that it no longer matters, that she is only fit for Carker now.

I can't wait to find out the answers!

Renee wrote: "Oh my Gosh! What a Whirlwind!

Florence:
1. I’m almost glad that Dombey finally did something so heinous that she is forced to see him for the narcissistic gasbag that he is. ..."

Me, too! It certainly took long enough. I love that he has finally been taken down a peg or two. As Dickens says, "the tree is struck but not down" and I am eagerly awaiting the final felling of the tree! I am hopeful that it will happen.

I just feel so bad for Mr. Toots! He loves Florence so much and now she's engaged to Lieutenant Walters :)! Where is Toots' happily ever after?

sabagrey wrote: "Did the ship that took him up never touch port during all that time, so that he could have sent a letter even if he did not choose to come home himself?"

I know, right? I think it would have been more believable had Walter washed up on some island or remote country where there were no services like mail, and forced to live there until he could finally get to a port and catch a ship for home. That would be more believable than taking a three-year voyage! That is Gilligan's Island reasoning right there! :)

Cindy wrote: "I don't know if Dickens would go THIS dark, but my first thought was rape."

That's an interesting theory, and it makes as much sense as the other considerations of power, blackmail, fascination or whatever. Only I cannot imagine that Edith would give in even if raped. She would rather murder him than elope with him. I hope we will find out more.

Ah yes, and I also wish Mr. Toots a HEA! I have an inkling on the subject, but I'll keep it to myself.

Well, my two word comment about this week’s reading is TRULY EXTRAORDINARY!

My explanation of my comment will take a bit longer but here goes.

What a contrast between the cosy, comfortable, consoling abode that is Captain Cuttle’s and the dark, disgraceful, disharmony of Dombey’s ‘home.’

We knew something was about to happen but this surpasses anything I expected. In the Dombey household, the only positive was Florence’s escape. Yes, Dombey has been disgraced and we can all cheer, but the actions of Carker and Edith at this point seem almost as disgusting.

Edith’s actions must be questioned because she abandoned Florence to her fate. Florence could have ended up on the streets or worse still, murdered by her own father taking it out on her because he couldn’t do it to Edith.. Edith knew that Dombey blamed Florence at least in part for the division between them, so leaving her to her father’s wrath was just cruel. That inexcusable assault by her father happened partly because of Edith’s actions. It could be that Carker gave Edith no choice, but the tone of the letter she left her husband doesn’t indicate that.

’He read that she was gone. He read that he was dishonoured. He read that she had fled, upon her shameful wedding-day, with the man whom he had chosen for her humiliation; and he tore out of the room, and out of the house, with a frantic idea of finding her yet, at the place to which she had been taken, and beating all trace of beauty out of the triumphant face with his bare hand.’

The letter seems to indicate that Edith had already started the affair with Carker before she left. Was that the reason he was seen sneaking down the stairs from her apartments late at night? If so Edith’s actions are worse than I had expected. I hope I am wrong about Edith and that she has somehow managed to keep Carker at bay. However, I have grave doubts about that.

I don’t think I have read a novel before where someone elopes from a hated husband/wife with a hated lover! After all, she could have chosen any one of number of young aristocrats to do a similar thing with in order to get away from Dombey. She might not have loved the young rake but at least she wouldn’t have hated him.

Carker’s well worked out ‘plan’ is beyond me. He could be just besotted by Edith but I doubt it. We now know that he is the perpetrator of evil regarding Alice. Maybe he forced her to elope with him (in a similar way to Edith) but whatever he did she hates him for it. Is it possible he could have got her hung instead of only transported and she had to pay the price?

I can only think of some sort of blackmail will be coming the way of Dombey from Carker but I have no idea in what shape or form that will be.

Just a quick paragraph about Walter and Florence. Call me an old fashioned romantic but those passages where they pledged their love for each other were absolutely beautiful and brought a lump to my throat. Captain Cuttle is right about them being made for each other. Poor Toots is too silly for Florence, a bit like Diogenes really. But I really hope he finds the Nipper and restores her back to the pages of this novel.

Do the newly engaged couple need protection from Carker? I hope not.

Dombey and Son was so popular in the later Victorian period that it inspired William Maw Egley to paint a portrait of Florence Dombey. It shows her in Captain Cuttle’s parlour having escaped from her father’s house. The portrait toured around the art galleries of Britain and is now on show in the Victoria and Albert Museum, London.




Here is the link to the V and A webpage where the portrait can be seen at a higher resolution.

https://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O8...

thank you for the 'portrait' - I love the nautical details, especially the ship model with its entangled rigging. I wonder if the paper on the floor (lower left corner) is legible in the original? It must have some relation to the story ...

I agree that Edith's behaviour is somewhat mysterious, and questionable with regard to Florence. But then, she is a conflicted character and knows it, torn between her different sides.

Carker's sneaking down the stair at night seems to imply an affair, but I have a hard time imagining Edith with Carker whom she loathes. Her motives remain a mystery to me.

And I wonder, as you do, about Carker's ultimate goal. It must have to do also with the Dombey business - he will not have been so busy in the office for nothing before the elopement.

I am an old-fashioned romantic too, getting more so as I grow older! ;-) It's good to see Walter and Florence together after all they have gone through.

sabagrey wrote: "thank you for the 'portrait' - I love the nautical details, especially the ship model with its entangled rigging. I wonder if the paper on the floor (lower left corner) is legible in the original? ..."

Apart from Florence in typical mid-Victorian dress, I like the large exotic shells and (stuffed?) parrot on a shelf in the top left hand corner. Also the large book on the windowsill with what looks like a box of pins (or something like that) lying on top. Could that be a Bible? I think that in the bottom left hand corner there is a map sticking out of a book of charts because I can just read the words ‘Cape of Good Hope’ on it.

The whole composition is full of interest to me.

Trev wrote: "Well, my two word comment about this week’s reading is TRULY EXTRAORDINARY!

My explanation of my comment will take a bit longer but here goes.

What a contrast between the cosy, comfortable, consoling abode that is Captain Cuttle’s and the dark, disgraceful, disharmony of Dombey’s ‘home.’..."

I agree with your two word assessment of this week and I enthusiastically applaud your alliteration!! The portrait of Florence is quite beautiful; thank you for sharing it with us.

If Edith fled with Carker voluntarily, I can only think that she must have decided that her presence was worsening Florence's position, and that the girl would be better off if she left. I believe she sincerely loves Florence and would never willingly do anything to hurt her. As for Carker, there must be some backstory that we are not yet privy to that brings himself, Dombey, and the Browns together.

I'm happy about Florence and Walter, too, and never thought Toots should be with Florence. He's just so nice that I hate to see him hurt!

Is Edith the epitome of a trapped woman? Initially beholding to her mother, then to Dombey and now Carker.
We have to remember how women in Victorian times were not free to "chart their own course" (as Captain Cuttle would say) so to speak.

Thank you to the group. You’ve just given me three new things to contemplate… the interior of the Midshipman, the juxtaposition of homes, and the vision of proud Edith going from trap to trap as a Victorian and as a beautiful woman.

Francis wrote: "Is Edith the epitome of a trapped woman? Initially beholding to her mother, then to Dombey and now Carker.
We have to remember how women in Victorian times were not free to "chart their own course..."

I do think she was trapped in many ways. Edith is such a fascinating character! Just reflecting on her choices leads you down so many different paths. She's apathetic one moment, fierily passionate the next. As Victorian women living in genteel poverty, she and her mother only have one hope of improving their situation, and that is an advantageous marriage by Edith. Edith has a conflicted relationship with her mother but seems committed to taking care of her. Unfortunately, she agrees to marry the worst possible person for her.

Edith is then trapped in her marriage with Dombey. I get that she is disillusioned in the cynicism of an arranged marriage, but I'm a little mystified by entering into the contract with no intention of performing even the most basic functions expected. Refusing to behave with basic civility seems to be a provocation for disaster.

I'm very eager to find out how Carker trapped Edith into running off with him. I just cannot wrap my head around her leaving with him voluntarily. If he was a nice person who genuinely sympathized with her, then maybe. But someone she hates and distrusts only marginally less than her husband? It just doesn't make sense to me.

Such were the lives of Victorian women--defined by men, whether cruel or kind. Florence is equally dependent. At her father's mercy for all those years, she escapes and is now dependent on the kind gentlemen at the Midshipman.

Cindy wrote: "Francis wrote: "Is Edith the epitome of a trapped woman? Initially beholding to her mother, then to Dombey and now Carker.
We have to remember how women in Victorian times were not free to "chart ..."

I think that Edith is trapped by her pride as much as being trapped as a women.

I can think of other intelligent women in Victorian times, both in real life and in fiction, who found ways of escaping the dominance of men and gaining some independence. For example, in the The Tenant of Wildfell Hall , Helen Graham used her skills as an artist to sell some of her paintings in order to live independently. She had to suppress any pride in order to take such a bold step. Also some women in real life had to support their families by becoming writers, an example being Margaret Oliphant. There are other examples where intelligent women took it upon themselves to become independent even though they had to overcome the barriers put in front of them by men. They may have been frowned upon or even ridiculed but they swallowed their pride and got on with it.

Edith, however, has relied only on her beauty to achieve two marriages. This has probably been prompted by her mother but it seems she has never bothered to acquire any talents or skills which could be useful, due to her pride and aloofness. She does have family on her mother’s side, but she seems too proud to turn to them in her time of trouble. All the time, her pride prevents her from escaping the clutches of Carker. Like you Cindy, I think that Carker must have some mental if not physical hold over her because I agree with Sabagrey that Dombey’s frying-pan was very uncomfortable but Carker’s fire would be hell on earth.

Trev wrote: "I can think of other intelligent women in Victorian times, both in real life and in fiction, who found ways of escaping the dominance of men and gaining some independence. For example, in the The Tenant of Wildfell Hall , Helen Graham used her skills as an artist to sell some of her paintings in order to live independently."

(an aside) yes, but ... Helen Graham's character was written by a woman. I try to think of an independent female character written by a male Victorian author (and not just as a cautionary tale) - I fail to come up with one so far, but then I don't claim to be an expert.

Edith's character and her actions remain a bit mysterious to me - so far at least. I have noticed before that male authors of the time were not very good at creating interesting *consistent* female characters - I suspect they simply did not notice women enough to really know them. I'm a bit worried that Dickens, too, will leave us with more questions than answers in that regard.

sabagrey wrote: "Trev wrote: "I can think of other intelligent women in Victorian times, both in real life and in fiction, who found ways of escaping the dominance of men and gaining some independence. For example,..."

My suggestions would be Wilkie Collins and George Gissing although they have been criticised for not being consistent in their portrayal of women. For good examples of novels showing independent women (although not in the same context as Edith) I would recommend The Law and the Lady and ‘Blind Love’ by Wilkie Collins. Two I know of by George Gissing are The Odd Women and The Whirlpool.

Trev wrote: "My suggestions would be Wilkie Collins and George Gissing ... "

Thank you very much! I will have a look into these, with enough time ...

Cindy wrote: "Francis wrote: "Is Edith the epitome of a trapped woman? Initially beholding to her mother, then to Dombey and now Carker.
We have to remember how women in Victorian times were not free to "chart ..."

Excellent insight.

sabagrey wrote: "Trev wrote: "My suggestions would be Wilkie Collins and George Gissing ... "

Thank you very much! I will have a look into these, with enough time ..."

Another one worth reading is Diana of the Crossways by George Meredith. This novel is based on a real life woman ‘Caroline Norton’ who left her husband and was denied the right to see her children. Her struggles to challenge the situation eventually led to divorce laws being reformed.

Trev wrote: "My suggestions would be Wilkie Collins and George Gissing although they have been criticised for not being consistent in their portrayal of women...."

I also enjoyed Collins' Armadale; Lydia Gwilt is another complex, tormented female character. I do hope, sabagrey, that Dickens gives us some answers on the events that have taken place offstage--it would be too cruel to leave us hanging forever (although I do love books that inspire endless discussion). I'm a member of a Georgette Heyer group, and there will clearly never be a consensus on the ending of one of her novels--the discussion rages every time it is brought up! That discussion, however, is not speculation on the events that have taken place but on whether the ending is happy or not. We definitely need to know exactly what happened with Edith and Carker and why they did it!

Trev wrote: "I think that Edith is trapped by her pride as much as being trapped as a women...."

That is so true, Trev, and she recognizes and bemoans it, but seems unable to control it. She speaks to Florence of "a pride that is all powerless for good, all powerful for evil," referring to herself. She characterizes her pride as a hunted creature at bay, but that it "will not yield; no, that it cannot if it would" (611). Edith tells Dombey that Florence has been "the only gentle feeling and interest of my life" and that for her sake, "I would now, if I could--but I can not, my soul recoils from you too much--submit myself wholly to your will and be the meekest vassal that you have!" Despite her deep love for Florence, even for her sake, Edith cannot bend the knee. (657).

Edith and Dombey are both prisoners of their pride, and the juxtaposition is that of fire and ice. Her pride is fiery and passionate, and leaves her nothing but scorched earth in its incineration of her self-esteem and sense of worth. She is left with nothing but a burning sense of humiliation and self-loathing. Dombey, on the other hand, presides over the emotionally frozen landscape created by his pride, where the only thing that can survive are his grandiose views of himself and his conviction of his superiority to all others. His pride freezes out all human contact and emotions, except for those that can withstand the subzero temperatures, such as hatred, jealousy, and self-pity. Their pride, and their inability to let go of it, keep them from being able to form any sort of real relationship with the people around them.

Francis wrote: "Excellent insight...."

It was excellent insight, but it was yours! I just expounded on it a little, but the idea was yours! :)

Cindy wrote: “Edith and Dombey are both prisoners of their pride, and the juxtaposition is that of fire and ice..."

Brilliant! That paragraph is an excellent analogy of the way they both have such insuperable pride, but how it manifests itself so differently.

Wow - so many surprises in this section! I agree that Edith's behavior toward Florence shows deep shame and humiliation. Whether this is because she willingly engaged in an affair with Carker or was raped or is shamed because she knows that she is fleeing from Dombey and deserting Florence, I have no idea. I believe Mr. Carker has engaged in some sort of embezzlement or mismanagement in his job in preparation for his revenge on Dombey. He clearly sees Edith as a beautiful prize (because of her resemblance to Alice?), so by eloping with her his revenge against Dombey is complete. I can't believe that Edith is in love with Carker. She must be using him simply as accomplice to free her from Dombey.
That Dombey struck Florence is the most despicable act in the novel so far. I am so glad she fled (with her beloved Diogenes) and that she sought refuge at the Midshipman. She now has a haven with people who love her and will take care of her. Walter's reappearance was a welcome event; the resolution of his relationship with Florence is delightful!