Dickensians! discussion

OLIVER TWIST: THREAD 4

Original title Oliver Twist; or, The Parish Boy's Progress



Disney TV film 1997 adaptation with Richard Dreyfuss as Fagin and Elijah Wood as the Artful Dodger dramatised by Monte Merrick and Stephen Sommers

XII – March 1838 - chapters 26–27
XIII – April 1838 - chapters 28–30
XIV – May 1838 - chapters 31–32
XV – June 1838 - chapters 33–34

LINKS TO CHAPTERS: (ongoing)

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Installment 12

Chapter 26:

Fagin is running desperately, in the “same wild and disordered manner”, until he nearly gets run over by a carriage, and slows down. He then avoids the main streets, and skulking and shuffling along through by-ways and alleys, seems to breathe more freely. He is making his way to Field Lane and Saffron Hill, where:

“In its filthy shops are exposed for sale huge bunches of second-hand silk handkerchiefs, of all sizes and patterns; for here reside the traders who purchase them from pick-pockets. Hundreds of these handkerchiefs hang dangling from pegs outside the windows or flaunting from the door-posts; and the shelves, within, are piled with them.”

Fagin is well known here, and asks if anyone is in the local inn, “The Three Cripples”, but is told that Bill Sikes is not. He makes it clear that he wants to be alone, and makes his way there. Making a sign to the man at the bar, Fagin goes upstairs into another room:

“illuminated by two gas-lights; the glare of which was prevented by the barred shutters, and closely-drawn curtains of faded red, from being visible outside”.



"The Free and Easy" - Frederic W. Pailthorpe 1886

The room is filthy and has a disreputable air, full of dense tobacco smoke and confusion, where:

“countenances, expressive of almost every vice in almost every grade, irresistibly attracted the attention, by their very repulsiveness. Cunning, ferocity, and drunkeness in all its stages, were there … and women: … presenting but one loathsome blank of profligacy and crime; some mere girls, others but young women, and none past the prime of life; formed the darkest and saddest portion of this dreary picture.”

This was the same inn where Fagin had met Bill Sikes and his dog. He looks eagerly from face to face, evidently trying to find someone, but cannot. So he beckons the landlord onto the landing, and ask quietly if “he” is here. On learning that he is not, Fagin asks after someone called Barney. The landlord answer cryptically:

“He won’t stir till it’s all safe. Depend on it, they’re on the scent down there; and that if he moved, he’d blow upon (give away) the thing at once. He’s all right enough, Barney is, else I should have heard of him. I’ll pound it, that Barney’s managing properly. Let him alone for that.”

We learn that “he” is someone called “Monks”, and that Fagin:

“however desirous he might be to see the person in question … was nevertheless relieved by his absence.”

Fagin prefers to leave a message that Monks should visit him the next day. The landlord tries to negotiate further, offering:

“what a time this would be for a sell (to betray an accomplice to the police)! I’ve got Phil Barker here: so drunk, that a boy might take him!”

But Fagin has other plans. He calls a hack-cabriolet, and tells the man to drive towards Bethnal Green, where Bill Sikes lives, but stops short and walks the rest of the way. He then goes upstairs to find Nancy sitting alone, and either drunk or distraught. When Fagin asks Nancy something, she gives “some half intelligible reply” and seems, “from the smothered noise that escaped her”, to be crying. When Fagin seems oddly to be concerned for Oliver, Nancy says:

“The child … is better where he is, than among us; and if no harm comes to Bill from it, I hope he lies dead in the ditch and that his young bones may rot there.”

This amazes Fagin, who assumes Nancy is too drunk to know what she is saying. Fagin is himself very worked up, and it becomes clear that Oliver is more valuable to Fagin than any of his gang, all of whom he could send to the gallows with a word. He also lets slip that he himself is bound to “a born devil that only wants the will, and has the power to, to—” but he catches himself before finishing his thought:

“A moment before, his clenched hands had grasped the air; his eyes had dilated; and his face grown livid with passion;”

But the narrator tells us that Fagin is worried that he has disclosed too much, and doesn’t go on, instead trying to make sure that Nancy did not notice his slip.

Fagin now heads back to his den:

“It was within an hour of midnight. The weather being dark, and piercing cold, he had no great temptation to loiter.”

Out of the shadows comes a figure, who confronts him, saying that he has been wating for two hours:



"Fagin!" whispered a voice close to his ear — James Mahoney 1871

This is Monks, who demands news, but wants to go and shelter inside. Fagin reluctantly takes him into the dark interior, fetching a candle. He reports that Toby Cratchit and the boys are all asleep, and takes Monks upstairs, where they have a whispered conversation for about a quarter of an hour. Then, raising his voice, Monks says:

“I tell you again, it was badly planned. Why not have kept him here among the rest, and made a sneaking, snivelling pickpocket of him at once? … If you had had patience for a twelvemonth, at most, couldn’t you have got him convicted, and sent safely out of the kingdom; perhaps for life?”

Fagin says submissively that “he was not like other boys”, but that if he is still alive, he will be able to make him one now, and if he is dead—but the idea of this seems to terrify Monks:

“I had no hand in it. Anything but his death, I told you from the first. I won’t shed blood; it’s always found out, and haunts a man besides” and then suddenly cries, “What’s that?” He has seen the shadow of a woman wearing a cloak and bonnet, low down on the wooden panels. But there is no sound when they listen, and a search reveals nothing.

By now it is past one o’clock, so they part company.

Monks

In case you think you missed something, you haven’t! Monks has not been mentioned before, even by implication. But we now know from Fagin’s comments to Nancy about a “born devil”, and Fagin’s uneasiness when he finds Monks waiting for him outside his door, that Fagin has had dealings with him before. We can also see that Monks is one of the few people Fagin fears, but he knows that the entire gang is in danger of being hanged, saying to the landlord:

“go back to the company, my dear, and tell them to lead merry lives—while they last.”

Fagin and Monks’s conversation deepens the mystery of Oliver’s identity, as it is clearly Oliver they are talking about, even though no names are mentioned. Why should Monks be so desperately concerned about Oliver, and want him out of the way? And why is he so on edge; intimidating and dangerous yet nervous and almost fearful.

(If you have never read Oliver Twist before (but know the story from adaptations), you may never have come across Monks before. He is missed out of most of the films and retellings.)

Writing Style and Structure

We are half way through the novel now, and this is the first time we have heard of Monks, when Fagin asks about him in the Three Cripples Inn. Kathleen was absolutely right that ”Fagin is running to see some new character we don’t know yet”! Because we have the benefit of being able to look back at all Charles Dickens’s novels, we can see that this was to become a regular habit. We have also just met Mrs. Corney for the first time - and can expect some more new people to pop up too.

With Oliver Twist in fact, Charles Dickens literally had no choice. He needed to intoduce new characters at this point, to develop an interesting and full story. Ever since installment 8 (for November 1837 - chapters 16–17) he was aware of the need to develop the Parish Boy’s Progress into a novel. Before that, they were merely episodes. This is is the first and last time he was forced into this position, yet it became his preferred, and perhaps unique, way of working. Even Charles Dickens’s later novels introduce characters essential to the plot half way through, or a little later.

Plus, although Oliver Twist is the first novel of his to have a mystery element, this became a hallmark of a Dickensian novel, and became stronger over the years, culminating in his final, incomplete novel The Mystery of Edwin Drood - which even has “Mystery” in the title.

Jim, Lori and Franky have all commented on the skilful way Dickens constructed his installments, so that there would be a good cliffhanger at the end of each onee - and sometimes at the end of a chapter within it - much like today’s continuing drama series (soaps). And in Oliver Twist it is noticeable that this has been cranked up a notch.

Now though, we have complex characters, and gripping scenarios. We do not always follow Oliver as before, but sometimes follow other characters. We no longer have just one long scene in a chapter, but several. Today’s chapter for instance, has 4 or 5 separate locations, all with separate characters, and one person (Fagin) travelling between them, to link them. Neither should we expect the plot to be linear; it may dart backwards and forwards in time.

At this, point the novel of Oliver Twist is a very different prospect indeed, from the beginning chapters!

Chapter 26 is quite complex, and was extremely difficult to summarise fully but without interpretation! I thought it was superbly written, though, as I’ve indicated. Some aspects were clear, even though those speaking were trying not to be overheard, and so talked meaningfully but not explicitly. However, because we were privy to what has gone before with Oliver, we understood their meaning. Other parts though are still hidden to us. For instance we know who “Barney” is, but what might his connection be? And who is the “born devil” he refers to? Is this Bill Sikes? Or Monks? Or Barney? Or someone else we have yet to meet?

Nancy

I’m also wondering about Nancy. Does she really think Oliver is better off dead, than living among this den of thieves? Well that is consistent with what she said before, when she regretted her part in recapturing him. Is she perhaps projecting here, and thinking that she herself would be better off dead than living the life she does? It’s also worth noting that that whatever she hopes for Oliver is only as long as it doesn’t cause Bill Sikes any harm. This feels like true victim mentality. Nancy might be completely dominated by Bill Sikes, and wants him safe even if it is at the expense of a small child!

But Nancy has shown herself to be quick-witted, and a good actress, before (in the kidnap scene). So is Nancy as drunk as she appears, do you think? And why does the narrator call her “the girl”? Is this to depersonalise, or objectify her, generalising rather that using her individual name, or to remind us that Nancy is still only 17? Or is Charles Dickens giving us some sort of clue?

Whatever it is, I feel sorry for Nancy. When she was alone, she was crying and drinking herself into oblivion. When she says:

“I shall be glad to have him away from my eyes, and to know that the worst is over. I can’t bear to have him about me. The sight of him turns me against myself, and all of you.”

I think she speaks from the heart. Nancy uniquely seems to have a conscience, despite everything, but that aspect of her is fighting to survive in such an environment. What a contrast to Fagin’s observations when he comes across her:

“She’s been drinking,’ thought the Jew, coolly, ‘or perhaps she is only miserable.”

“Only” miserable? Talk about a cold fish! This is clear proof of how callous and uncaring Fagin is, whereas Nancy makes us think.

And a little more …

About Field Lane

We came across Field Lane before, in chapter 8, when we first met Fagin. His den in Field-lane had been the location of the hide-out of the notorious eighteenth-century thief Jonathan Wild. The shops there were well known for selling silk handkerchiefs bought from pickpockets, and we meet a couple of the traders, who seem very friendly with Fagin, hoping he has got something for them. In one of Charles Dickens’s letters, when he was angry about some of his work being pirated, he compared those who stole his work with pickpockets, saying:

“when my handkerchief is gone … I may see it flaunting with renovated beauty in Field-lane.”

The “shoe-vamper” mentioned there is a shoe repair man. It’s doubtful he would be a proper cobbler though. In the Victorian slums like this one, people would make a few pennies by getting shoes which were worn out, full of holes and had been thrown away, put new soles on made of cardboard, and “repairing” the holes with newspaper, painting them black all over and selling them on as new shoes!

Mr. Lively, the trader crammed into his tiny chair says: “the sight of you, Mr. Fagin, would cure the hoptalmy!” “Hoptalmy” is a Cockney corruption of Ophthalmia, an inflammation of the eyes, so Mr. Lively is saying that Fagin is a sight for sore eyes. (I’m glad someone thinks so!)

He also says “Non istwentus”, which means “not to be found”. I’d like to learn more about this character who attempts to use the proper medical terms, and speaks Latin, but I suspect the lively-minded Mr. Lively is just a cameo.

Now we have a few more details about what Field Lane is like! And here is a good spoiler-free article about Field Lane then and now, with pictures:

https://www.writingcities.com/2015/02...

My word, the action is hotting up now! What are your thoughts about this long and complex chapter?

Imagine my delighted surprise to come home (after a trip away) to find that I've kept up with this read!

Jean, the story of Oliver and his "friends" is one that really keeps one guessing and wondering what is going on. I keep getting the feeling that there's more known to the characters than we're being told in the story.

The line that caught my eye was ".....so led to the discovery that it was him you were looking for". "Him" is Oliver. Why would Monks have been looking for Oliver? Where has Monk been in the rest of this story where he's been looking for him and for what purpose? If we haven't met Monks, neither has Oliver? Or has he?
Very mysterious, for sure.

Nancy is a wonderful character. I am not convinced that she's as drunk as she makes out to be or as unaware of something said/done as she pretends to be. She is, though, I'm sure, protecting herself from Sikes and Fagin by not letting them know she's picking up on details they let fall. If they knew she understood their mistakenly told details, her life could be in danger. I don't think Fagin could kill, but Sikes certainly could. Living with Sikes must be terrifying for Nancy. One slip of what she knows and he'd kill her.
Nancy is a wonderful character. Dickens is developing her to be a strong, wily, clever and perhaps protective being. She's got depth and she cares. It's a shame she was an abandoned child and met up with Fagin at such a young age. She's a bit like Oliver in her goodness, but she's had to go into thievery for survival in the end. In time, this could be Oliver's fate, too. A good child with good morals who has to thief to live, despite not wanting to.

One thing that caught my eye in this chapter was when Fagin said, "the boy's worth hundreds of pounds to me." It reminded me of the reward that Mr. Brownlow offered for Oliver, but that was for "five guineas," which Googling says is only five pounds. Hmm. Does Fagin really think that Oliver shows that much potential in petty thievery?

This is surely one of the “darkest” of Dickens’ novels. Most of the settings are gloomy, filthy and often dangerous dives where people lead lives of desperation, deceit, degradation, misery and despair. Were it not for Dickens’ implacable moral compass, always condemning evil and urging his protagonist toward right and justice, this entire novel could easily have slipped into the realm of noir fiction (a style or genre that only came into vogue a hundred years later). So many of the noir elements are here: corrupt officials, criminal activity, drunkenness, exploitation, lugubrious scenes, women who are ‘no better than they ought to be’.
All of that darkness enables Dickens to make us feel delighted and relieved when he inserts an optimistic scene where we can enjoy a few moments of sunshine and goodness. The contrast in moods is startling!
I recall having experienced the same sensations of light vs. darkness when reading Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables!
(You can probably detect here that noir fiction — and film — happens to be one of my favorite haunts.)

Mahoney's illustration of Monks and Fagin is interesting - it makes me think that some suspicions I have about Monks' background and intentions could be right. Although they're pure speculation, I'll keep those to myself in case I accidentally spoil anything. 😊

I did like this chapter, though the indirectness of the conversations made them a bit difficult to follow; so I had to read some passages a couple times.

Thanks for explaining what "sell" meant Jean. I had been puzzling over that one. But I still feel confused as to why they would want to give Phil Barker over to the police. It's ironic because there are numerous passages in the book where Fagin or the boys talk about loyalty and not snitching on co-conspirators, but it seems that Fagin and the higher-ups in the organization have no compunction about doing so when it benefits them!

Why would it benefit them here though? Maybe it would distract the police from whatever is going on with the burglary by giving them a scapegoat? Or maybe somehow they would get money for turning him over in the form of a reward? I'm really not sure. Maybe others can clear that up for me.

I too am quite moved by Nancy's plight just as I was moved by Sally's last moments. Both of these scenes feel genuine and from the heart. I like what Petra says about Nancy, and I feel very similarly.

JP wrote: "Does Fagin really think that Oliver shows that much potential in petty thievery?..."

Good point JP. Since £5 in 1837 is wroth about £716.21 today, we can imagine that Fagin's "hundreds of pounds" equates to many, many thousands. Fagin is dreaming of being a millionaire by virtue of Oliver's face. It doesn't seem likely that a small time fence could effect this, even if the gang get a good haul from burgling some wealthy property. So what is in his mind? And who put it there?

By the way though, 5 guineas is 5 pounds and one shilling, not £5 dead. LINK HERE for my explanation about guineas on the day we read that chapter.

Petra - Great to have you back! Hopefully you can catch up with the comments on Monday (our next break).

Jim - Yes indeed!

Greg wrote: "But I still feel confused as to why they would want to give Phil Barker over to the police ..."

We can't know yet, because it is the first time this person has been mentioned - unless this is "Barney". If so, we are still in the dark and can only hypothesise.

"it seems that Fagin and the higher-ups in the organization have no compunction about doing so when it benefits them!"

Oh yes! They are only as safe as their weakest gang member, so would have no compunction about making one a scapegoat, Remember that Tom Chitling has already served a prison sentence of 6 weeks on the treadmill, on behalf of the gang.

Jean, thats one thing thats been bothering me- What do they mean by him serving on the treadmill??? I apologize if you've explained before and I just missed it!

Jenny wrote: "Jean, thats one thing thats been bothering me- What do they mean by him serving on the treadmill??? I apologize if you've explained before and I just missed it!"

During the Victorian period, people who were convicted of crimes, even minor ones such as stealing food, could face tough sentences. Some were sent to prison and forced to do gruelling work, such as walking on a huge treadmill. Often these would be facing the wall, and since in silent prison they could not talk, it was almost another sort of isolation.

At the end of the previous thread (earlier today), I linked to more about the treadmills at Coldbath Fields prison, with drawings and photographs. (There are no spoilers.) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Penal_t...

Thanks Jean, now that makes sense! What a punishment... Facing the wall is just even more cruel- They still need to see the sun!

I hate to say this ... but when a kid was really naughty at playtime I made them stand with their nose touching the wall in the playground. I only ever needed to do this for a few minutes, as they really couldn't stand it, when everyone else was playing and they could hear what was going on around them. Such a simple, effective thing ... but I had no idea I was basically using a Victorian method of punishment 😆

Oh my Jean... But at least for them it was only a few minutes!

I've now caught up, and I wonder if Monks knew Oliver's mother. It seams like the woman he saw could have been her spirit, or his own guilty conscience reminding him of the woman he wronged. Could this be Olivers father??

Yes, but we had quite a bit of fun too, and I am still friends with dozens of them 😊 (Sorry all, that was off-topic!)

Oh I do like the idea of a guilty conscience, for Monks!

Chapter 26:

What an interesting chapter! So much going on! And so many new mysteries!

Three things especially struck me in this chapter.

1. At the end of Chapter 25, Fagin learns that Oliver has been shot and left for dead in a ditch. He runs wildly into the street. Dickens then opens Chapter 26 with "The old man had gained the street corner.... This is the first time that I recall Dickens calling him anything other than "the Jew." The term "the old man" humanized Fagin to me. I had high hopes that this indicated a moral change in Fagin, but reading on, I disappointedly don't think so.

2. The scene in the upstairs room at The Three Cripples was heartbreaking to me. Among the inhabitants in the room, Dickens says some were

...women: some with the last lingering tinge of their early freshness almost fading as you looked: others with every mark and stamp of their sex utterly beaten out, and presenting but one loathsome blank of profligacy and crime; some mere girls, others but young women, and none past the prime of life; formed the darkest and saddest portion of this dreary picture."

Dickens wanted his audience to understand that these young prostitutes people encountered on the streets were not there by choice. For many, it was the only means they had to eat. These young girls and women reminded me so much of Sofya Marmeladov in Crime and Punishment, who was forced into prostitution to feed her siblings because her alcoholic father drank everything he earned. And as Petra and Greg have stated, poor Nancy suffered the same fate as Sofya. I hope she is able to escape this fate.

And 3) I was shocked by James Mahoney's illustration of Fagin and Monk and his depiction of Monk as a gentleman. I had fully expected Monk to be of the same socioeconomic status as Fagin and Sikes, but Mahoney illustrated Monk as being an aristocrat. This is definitely interesting, and like Jenny commented, this illustration and the conversation that Monk had with Fagin leads me to believe that Monk may be someone who knows who Oliver is and has been looking for him. The fact that he would like to see Oliver convicted of a crime and sent away makes me wonder if Oliver is a threat to him somehow.

Monks seems to be very upset that Oliver has been taken on this job that was a very bad set up. Why would he be upset? That’s curious. And Fagin says he was able to get the boy back with the help of Nancy. Fagin seems to be apologizing to Monks for not being able to turn Oliver into a pickpocket. And it sounds as if Monks has been looking for a boy and he saw Oliver and recognized him as the boy he had been wanting to find.
“No, no, my dear!” renewed the Jew. “And I don’t quarrel with it now; because, if it had never happened, you might never have clapped eyes on the boy to notice him, and so led to the discovery that it was him you were looking for. Well! I got him back for you by means of the girl; and then she begins to favour him.”

This is really all very curious. This conversation has back meaning to it that only Fagin and Monks understand right now. And Notice that Monks trembled at the thought of Oliver being dead.

There is another mystery surrounding Oliver. Where is he and what happened to him? Dickens is really keeping us in suspense.

Like Greg, I have a theory about Monk but not sure if I should say it now or not.
One thing I found interesting from Monk’s conversation with Fagin is that Monk appears to want Oliver arrested, imprisoned, even transported. I can think of one reason why someone who appears to be a gentleman would want this to happen. As to who Monk is, well that’s harder.

Yes, Sonia Marmeladova in C&P echoes Nancy's plight - will there be a process of redemption like Sonia's or are there already seeds of it? So does Eponine Thénardier experience a redemption too - albeit tragically.

Jim interestingly mentioned the various lugubrious locations. Half fallen houses, broken shutters nailed not to be opened again, dirty premises, stairs, corridors, locked doors, a sense of imprisonment - not only a sense, that creates anguish and claustrophobia and exacerbates fear and perhaps visions (Monks scared by a mysterious woman's shadow wearing a cloak and a bonnet projected on a wooden panel) or nightmares. We see this later in Mrs Clennam's house (never renovated) and Affery's nightmarish dreams and maddening visions fuelled by the house itself and its inhabitants (Little Dorrit).

All these are perfect ingredients for scaring and oppressing us too - we definitely experience the importance of locations, of atmospheric conditions, night and fog or rain or biting cold, or on the contrary, extreme heat and thunderstorms with black skies on St Petersburg in C&P. We see such bleak locations In Les Misérables: la masure Gorbeau, the sewers of Paris, and in Crime and Punishment Raskolnikov's apartment.

Jim wrote: " So many of the noir elements are here: corrupt officials, criminal activity, drunkenness, exploitation, lugubrious scenes, women who are ‘no better than they ought to be’.
All of that darkness enables Dickens to make us feel delighted and relieved when he inserts an optimistic scene where we can enjoy a few moments of sunshine and goodness. The contrast in moods is startling!"

The style does seem different than other Dickens I've read, and I have definitely felt that relief when we get to sunnier scenes, something I expected more of from this author. As a fellow noir fan though, your comparison with that genre gives me a new appreciation for what Dickens is doing here. Thanks for mentioning this, Jim!

These are really excellent comments, providing much food for thought, thank you all! Before moving on though, just one thing.

Lori - Within the great points you mentioned, you said that it sounded as if Monks had been looking for a boy and he saw Oliver and recognised him as the boy he had been wanting to find. Yes, so far so good. Then you quoted this passage:

“No, no, my dear!” renewed the Jew. “And I don’t quarrel with it now; because, if it had never happened, .. if it had never happened, you might never have clapped eyes on the boy to notice him, and so led to the discovery that it was him you were looking for. Well! I got him back for you by means of the girl; and then she begins to favour him.”

and said that "This conversation has back meaning to it that only Fagin and Monks understand right now" which isn't entirely true.

Monks had been complaining that Fagin had let Oliver escape, rather then making him into a pickpocket, but Fagin said that some good had come of it. So we can work out the only time when Oliver had escaped Fagin's hands, was when he was taken by the policeman suspected of stealing. Monks must have seen Oliver then, as it was the only time Oliver was outside.

Then the only other time Oliver was outside, was when Oliver had been sent by Mr. Brownlow to the booksellers. Fagin got him back, as he says, "by means of the girl".

This is one of the places in the chapter where we know enough to work it out, but certainly other parts do have "back meaning to it that only ... [those involved] ... understand right now."

Chapter 27:

While awaiting Mrs. Corney’s return, Mr. Bumble continues his inventory of her silver and furniture “down to the very horse-hair seats of the chairs” and then goes through her chest of drawers, finally deciding:

“I’ll do it!” He followed up this remarkable declaration, by shaking his head in a waggish manner for ten minutes,”

When Mrs. Corney finally arrives, she is in quite a state, and gestures towards a cupboard, whereupon Mr. Bumble:

“snatching a pint green-glass bottle from the shelf thus incoherently indicated, filled a tea-cup with its contents, and held it to the lady’s lips.”

The beadle pours her a teacup of this liquid comfort. It is peppermint—with a little something added—she says, and urges him to try it:



"Mr. Bumble and Mrs. Corney" - Harry Furniss 1910

“Mr. Bumble tasted the medicine with a doubtful look; smacked his lips; took another taste; and put the cup down empty.”

After a while, Mr. Bumble’s arm seems to slowly become entwined with Mrs. Corney’s apron strings, and he solicitously asks about her allowances by the Board:

“Coals, candles, and house-rent free,” said Mr. Bumble. “Oh, Mrs. Corney, what an Angel you are!”

Their flirtation increases with a kiss from Mr. Bumble on her “chaste nose” and calling her “porochial perfection”, “my fascinator” and Mrs. Corney calling him “a irresistible duck”.

When Mr. Bumble tells her that the workhouse master Mr. Slout is close to dying—which will leave a vacancy and provide an opportunity for them to join their “hearts and housekeepings”—they agree to marry.

Mrs. Corney tells him that the old woman (Old Sally) has died, but she is evasive about why she had been in such a state. Mr. Bumble says he will go to the undertaker’s to order a coffin for the old woman. On the way, he calls for a few minutes in the male paupers’ ward: “to abuse them a little, with the view of satisfying himself that he could fill the office of workhouse-master with needful acerbity.”

When he gets to the undertaker’s, there is no reply, so he looks through the window and is startled by the scene before him. Evidently the Sowerberrys must be out, and he sees a table set out with a lavish spread:



"Mr. Claypole as he appeared when his master was out" - George Cruikshank - March 1838

Charlotte is happily feeding Noah Claypole with a surfeit of oysters, and:

“A more than ordinary redness in the region of the young gentleman’s nose, and a kind of fixed wink in his right eye, denoted that he was in a slight degree intoxicated”.

Feeling sated at last, Noah says:

“Come here, Charlotte, and I’ll kiss yer.”

Whereupon Mr. Bumble bursts in, calling Noah a “wile, owdacious fellow!” (vile audacious fellow)



"Bumble surprises Noah and Charlotte" - Harry Furniss 1910

and since Noah protests that she is always asking him to kiss her, ”she chucks me under the chin, please, sir; and makes all manner of love!“ the beadle also berates Charlotte for encouraging him, ”you insolent minx”.

He then loftily announces:

“The sin and wickedness of the lower orders in this porochial district is frightful! If Parliament don’t take their abominable courses under consideration, this country’s ruined, and the character of the peasantry gone for ever!”

The narrator concludes by saying that now we will see whether Oliver Twist is still lying in the ditch, where Toby Crackit left him.

This is the end of installment 12.

This light-hearted chapter with Mrs. Corney and Mr. Bumble came as quite a relief, after all the worry and intrigue! While we’re enjoying being entertained, perhaps our subconscious brains will be able to work out all the mysteries!

What a dissolute and hypocritical bunch they are to be sure. And the ungallant Noah thought nothing of landing Charlotte in it, and making sure she got the blame for his lust. And what perfect timing, coming straight after Mr. Bumbles’ avaricious courting of Mrs. Corney and fresh from her embraces, is supremely ironic and indicates the height of his hypocrisy. Charles Dickens's readers could hardly fail to see that the two episodes mirror each other.

I had not expected to see Noah Claypole and the Sowerberry set again. So we have had two pairings up, which makes me think these people might feature in future events.

Writing style

This chapter also has more than one location (just two) and follows on from chapter 23, but first we have another long interpolation as before. This time it is not a true apologia, but rather droll:

“As it would be, by no means, seemly in a humble author to keep so mighty a personage as a beadle waiting, … the historian whose pen traces these words—trusting that he knows his place, and that he entertains a becoming reverence for those upon earth to whom high and important authority is delegated—hastens to pay them that respect which their position demands,”

and so on. It feels very 18th century to me, and very tongue-in-cheek. I can’t see the Charles Dickens of the later novels taking his readers aside in this way, and confiding in them. But this is typical of the sort of novels Charles Dickens loved to read over and over again, by authors such as Henry Fieldingand Laurence Sterne.

It’s a little prolix, but worked for me and made me anticipate the amusing scene with the ridiculous couple which ensued. Of course they would not be at all amusing in real life, but this irony is such an entertaining way of revealing the very unsavoury truth about the appalling conditions in the workhouse.

And a little more …

It seems surprising to us that Charlotte is feeding Noah oysters. Today oysters are expensive, but in Victorian times, they were eaten by the working and middle classes. (We can tell that the Sowerberrys are middle class, because Mr. Sowerberry is an undertaker.)

Therefore they can afford some high-protein foods such as bacon and oysters, both of which Charles Dickens mentions as part of their diet. The working urban poor had fewer options, and some never tasted meat. When they did they might eat premature calves (called “slink”), undesirable cuts of mutton (diseased sheep—called “broxy”—or sheep’s heads, as we read before), or even spoiled meat. The food fed to workhouse inmates was even worse.

Also the Victorians (and some now!) believed that oysters were an aphrodisiac, which might explains Charlotte's pleasure at seeing Noah eat them, and also his sudden amorous advances.

So moving on ...

This is the end of installment 12. Installment 13 begins on Tuesday with chapter 28, which will be 3 chapters long.

Over to you!

I’d be interested to know if anyone else has read Arthur Morrison’s A Child Of The Jago.

https://www.londonfictions.com/arthur...

It was first published in 1896, and shares the themes of Oliver Twist, although the narrative describes living conditions and relationships considerably more brutally than Dickens, and there is little benevolence of the kind shown by Mr Brownlow. I’d recommend it to anyone whose interest in the sociological aspects of Oliver Twist has been piqued.

Apologies for the diversion…

Not at all, thanks David.

A Child of the Jago is extremely closely influenced by Oliver Twist - more so than Les Miserables, which people keep on referencing, although it was a later book. A Child of the Jago is set not only in the same country, but in exactly the same streets, just a while later!

Oliver Twist came first, in 1837, then mid way was Les Miserables in 1862, and then Arthur Morrison's A Child of the Jago as you say, in 1896.

Please do BEWARE OF SPOILERS though, in the excellent article David has linked to. There is a huge spoiler about the end of Oliver Twist just over half way through.

Jean, thanks for setting my comments straight with regard to the excerpt I quoted and the two instances we know that Oliver has been outside for Monks to have seen him. That is a perfect clarification and reminder for us. So thank you.

There seemed to be some understanding between these two, Fagin and Monks, that isn’t fully communicated to us. I’m curious to know what they are leaving out.

Today’s chapter, I admit that I had to read the opening a few times and noted its rather lengthy sentence. I can appreciate that Dickens loved his 18th century literature but I haven’t read too much myself to be able to sort it out when Dickens resorts to that style. But it certainly shows his influences. I personally like his style much more.

Lori wrote: "There seemed to be some understanding between these two, Fagin and Monks, that isn’t fully communicated to us...."

Ah yes, that's possible! Sorry if that's all you meant ... And my taste also runs to preferring Charles Dickens.

I much prefer Henry Furness’ illustration of Mrs Corney to Joseph Clayton Clarke’s which you shared in Chapter 24. In that one Mrs Corney is a skinny harridan. A chubby woman better fits my vision of Corney, although she isn’t a warm and caring woman to her charges.

Kathleen wrote: "I much prefer Henry Furness’ illustration of Mrs Corney to Joseph Clayton Clarke’s which you shared in Chapter 24. In that one Mrs Corney is a skinny harridan. A chubby woman better fits my vision ..."

I mentally picture Mrs. Corney as chubby, too!

I also think of Mrs Corney as chubby since I think that she will be saving any good food that comes into the workhouse for her own meals.

Bionic Jean wrote: "OLIVER TWIST: THREAD 4

Original title Oliver Twist; or, The Parish Boy's Progress



Disney TV film 1997 adaptation with Richard Dreyfuss as Fagin and Elijah Wood ..."

Back in the day when Disney TV attempted to produce content that might also appeal to adults. Prior to that adaptation of Oliver Twist, Disney TV co-produced an adaptation of Great Expectations released in 1989. One of the more interesting castings was Jean Simmons as Miss Havisham. She played young Estella in David Lean's definite version from 1946,

Yes I remember both those films of Great Expectations. As you say the David Lean one is the definitive version ... but let's talk about this elsewhere. Maybe add this post to our films thread Michael please, so it doesn't get lost (and I'll delete this if so). Thanks.

I have just received the Polanski film of Oliver Twist, which misses out Monks completely. Then the Alan Bleasdale film merges the characters of Mrs. Corney and Mrs. Mann!

Shirley (stampartiste) wrote: "Chapter 26:

2. The scene in the upstairs room at The Three Cripples was heartbreaking to me. Among the inhabitants in the room, Dickens says some were
...women: some with the last lingering tinge of their early freshness almost fading as you looked."

As I was reading that passage, I found myself comparing to earlier in the novel where Mr. Brownlow is reminiscing about people from his past. There is a stark contrast in the portrayal of women. In this debauched scene, the women are at best on their last vestiges of their youthful beauty while in Mr. Brownlow's vision death has restored that beauty.

Any more thoughts about the illustrations? Or other points from these two chapters?

My main impression from this chapter, which you already pointed out Jean, is the staggering hypocrisy of Mr Bumble who so agressively attacks Noah for something he himself has so recently done. And I loved the irony in his remark: "if parliament don't take their abominable courses under consideration, this country's ruined, and the character of the peasantry has gone forever."

This feels wonderfully scathing to me; Dickens unmasks the hypocrisy as well as the patronizing and condescending tone of those who would talk about the bad character of the "peasantry" in this broad and wooly headed way. It seems very likely that Dickens has been hearing politicians of his day making sweeping statements like this about working people, and Dickens satirizes those attitudes here, wonderfully!

Bionic Jean wrote: "
Oliver Twist came first, in 1837, then mid way was Les Miserables in 1862, and then Arthur Morrison's A Child of the Jago as you say, in 1896.
"

One interesting thing (for me) about reading Oliver Twist, is this sudden realization I've had about how quickly Charles Dickens started influencing other authors. In addition to Les Mis, we've compared Oliver Twist to Jane Eyre (1847) and Crime and Punishment (1866). But I've just realized Oliver Twist came first.

I've loved all the comparisons people are bringing to this discussion and its thrilling to think the plot devices, motifs and themes we are reading about here, were seeds planted for other great writers to use.

And speaking of writing devices, I liked the "Fieldingesque" opening paragraph of this Chapter. I kept expecting the "humble author" was going to apologize for keeping the reader in the dark about what has happened to Oliver. But NO, all he tells us about was The Beadle and Mrs. Coney. It all felt very clever to me. I wonder how his original audience felt. Its been a very long time since we've seen Oliver.

Greg wrote: "My main impression from this chapter, which you already pointed out Jean, is the staggering hypocrisy of Mr Bumble who so agressively attacks Noah for something he himself has so recently done. And..."

I think Mr Bumble is too clueless to be hypocritical! :-)

As we continually read about the "staggering hypocrisy" (as Greg so aptly phrased it) that Bumble displayed when dealing with the poor, it has finally made me wonder if this hypocrisy among the middle class is what drove such a hatred for the "bourgeoisie" among the working poor. I'm sure the poor felt that people like Mr. Bumble and Mrs. Corney were no better than they were - they may have had better advantages but not better morals. So who were the Bumbles of this world to look down upon them as though they were subhuman?

Very pertinent observations, thank you all! Bridget I agree with every word you say, and whenever someone says "It's like so-and-so in such-and-such novel" I'm itching to say "No, they are like so-and-so in Oliver Twist! That was the originator, although others may have developed certain aspects." But then there's only so many times I can repeat it ...

I have added another of Harry Furniss's marvellous 1910 illustrations to Chapter 27. He made two for the previous chapter!

I was about to add another place to find John Bayley essay, "Things as They Really Are" for Lee as well as in the Norton Critical Edition, but now see that it is in the same book which J.P. mentioned, Dickens And The Twentieth Century by John Gross. Ah well. Moving on.

Installment 13

Chapter 28:

With their pursuers close on their heels, Bill Sikes curses furiously at Toby Crackit, telling him to give him a hand with Oliver. He covers Oliver and they leave him in a ditch. Clenching his teeth, Bill Sikes:

“whirling his pistol high into the air, cleared it at a bound, and was gone.”



"The wounded Oliver thrown into the Ditch" - Harry Furniss 1910

We learn that their pursuers are three men, and two dogs, Pincher and Neptune. Mr. Giles leads the party, with Brittles a “shorter man … by no means of a slim figure, and … very pale in the face, and very polite: as frightened men frequently are…

Having entered … service a mere child, was treated as a promising young boy still, though he was something past thirty.“

There is also a travelling tinker who had been sleeping in an outhouse and joined the party; the dogs belong to him. They agree that they are all frightened, but Mr.Mr. Giles, insists:

“it’s wonderful … what a man will do, when his blood is up. I should have committed murder—I know I should—if we’d caught one of them rascals.”

And turning round, they head for home.

“The air grew colder, as day came slowly on; and the mist rolled along the ground like a dense cloud of smoke. The grass was wet; the pathways, and low places, were all mire and water; the damp breath of an unwholesome wind went languidly by, with a hollow moaning.”

Several hours later Oliver wakes, cold and trembling, exhausted and weak with pain. He staggers along the road through the rain, having strange visions as bewildering and confused ideas come crowding into his mind.

After a long time, he reaches a house—and full of fear, realises it is the same house they had tried to rob the night before. He wants desperately to run away, but cannot. Timidly he knocks at the door and collapses on the doorstep.

Mr. Giles is in the middle of making a great show of boasting about chasing the thieves to the impressionable cook and housemaid, and on hearing the knock the servants, the tinker, and the tinker’s dogs make their way with trepidation towards the door, whereupon:

“the group, peeping timorously over each other’s shoulders, beheld no more formidable object than poor little Oliver Twist, speechless and exhausted, who raised his heavy eyes, and mutely solicited their compassion.”



"Oliver Twist found wounded at Mrs. Maylie's door" George Cruikshank April 1838

Mr. Giles recognises Oliver as the boy he had shot during the break-in, and lugs him into the hall:

“Here he is!” bawled Giles, calling in a state of great excitement, up the staircase; “here’s one of the thieves, ma’am! Here’s a thief, miss! Wounded, miss! I shot him, miss; and Brittles held the light.”

but a “sweet female voice” made itself heard through the confusion, telling gthem to be quiet, as:

“you frighten my aunt as much as the thieves did. Is the poor creature much hurt?”

“Wounded desperate, miss,” replied Giles, with indescribable complacency.

But their young mistress directs them to ride to Chertsey as quickly as possible to fetch a constable and a doctor. She will not look at the thief, but tells them to treat him kindly, for her sake.