The Pickwick Club discussion

Hello once again Pickwickians,

Another week has passed and it is again my turn to open the thread. I am also once again posting on Saturday because I have guests coming for Easter these next few days and I'm not sure when I'll get a chance on Sunday. These weeks seem to pass quickly, especially during holidays, but at least we are getting closer to Christmas.

The first thing I noticed in Chapter 22 is that although David says he and Steerforth are "very much together" they are also "asunder for some hours at a time." Maybe I'm a suspicious person, but I don't trust Steerforth being without David for long periods of time and keep wondering what he is up to. I'm not sure what that is but I have my guess. He spends much of his time with Mr. Peggoty and his family which seems suspicious because of the way he talked of the family earlier in the book saying that they have not very fine natures, course rough skin and there being a wide separation between him and them. But the thing that made me the most suspicious is when he actually buys a boat because as he tells David he "has taken a fancy to this place" and named it the "Little Em'ly".' It amazes me that David, Mr. Peggoty, Ham or anyone else for that matter seems to see anything strange in him doing that. Well I do, hopefully I'm wrong, but I have a feeling Little Em'ly is headed for trouble.

The only hope I have for Steerforth is that one night when David happens to come to the boat after having visited his old home, he finds Steerforth alone and in a bad mood, David is surprised to find Steerforth in such a despondent mood. Steerforth says that he is angry that he has not had a father all these years and that he is unable to guide himself better. So perhaps if Steerforth can see the wrong he is doing there will be time for him to change. I doubt it, but maybe.

When they return to the inn, David and Steerforth meet Miss Mowcher, a dwarf working as a hairdresser who cuts Steerforth’s hair as they gossip and talk of Mr. Peggotty, Ham, and Little Em’ly , in Steerforth's circle she is known as a witty and glib gossip. I have not been able to find if there was a real person that gave Dickens the idea for Steerforth, but there was a real life Miss Mowcher. Dickens supposedly based the character of Miss Mowcher on Mrs. Jane Seymour Hill, Dickens' wife Catherine's chiropodist. Mrs. Seymour Hill recognized herself as the original for this character and threatened a lawsuit .

A newspaper article written before Dickens wrote David Copperfield produced a scathing piece on the profession of corn-cutter or chiropodist, describing the profession as ‘the very lowest description of charlatanism.’ The paper printed a whole paragraph about Mrs Hill and introduced her in the following manner;

"‘the most eminent amongst female operators is a dwarf, who, on a very genteel-looking card, thus describes herself…corn-operator. This interesting little lady is one of the greatest London characters; she may be seen in all parts of the town, riding in a chaise in company with her brother, who is also a dwarf.’"

Mrs Hill was outraged by her portrayal in David Copperfield and allegedly threatened Dickens with legal action saying ‘‘I have suffered long and much from my personal deformities, but never before at the hands of a man so highly gifted as Charles Dickens.’ In reply Dickens wrote ‘I am most exceedingly and unfeigningly sorry to have been the unfortunate occasion of giving you a moment's distress.’

John Forster wrote this in his book "The Life of Charles Dickens":

"I have had the queerest adventure this morning," he wrote (28th of December 1849) on the eve of his tenth number, "the receipt of the enclosed from Miss Moucher! It is serio-comic, but there is no doubt one is wrong in being tempted to such a use of power." Thinking a grotesque little oddity among his acquaintance to be safe from recognition, he had done what Smollett did sometimes, but never Fielding, and given way, in the first outburst of fun that had broken out around the fancy, to the temptation of copying too closely peculiarities of figure and face amounting in effect to deformity. He was shocked at discovering the pain he had given, and a copy is before me of the assurances by way of reply which he at once sent to the complainant. That he was grieved and surprised beyond measure. That he had not intended her altogether. That all his characters, being made up out of many people, were composite, and never individual. That the chair (for table) and other matters were undoubtedly from her, but that other traits were not hers at all; and that in Miss Moucher's "Ain't I volatile" his friends had quite correctly recognized the favourite utterance of a different person. That he felt nevertheless he had done wrong, and would now do anything to repair it. That he had intended to employ the character in an unpleasant way, but he would, whatever the risk or inconvenience, change it all, so that nothing but an agreeable impression should be left."

Later, when David walks back to the Barkis house he finds Ham waiting outside for Em'ly. She is in the house talking to Martha Endell, a girl who once worked with her at Mr. Omer's. Ham tells David that Martha Endell is a "fallen woman," and Mr. Peggotty would not want Em'ly to speak to her, so when Martha came to Em'ly begging to see her Em'ly gave the girl a note telling her to meet her at the Barkis cottage. Ham gives Martha some money so that she can go to London, where she is not known. After Martha leaves, little Em'ly sobs, "I am not as good a girl as I ought to be! Not near! Not near!" She begs Ham, David and her aunt to help her be a better girl. The chapter ends with her walking home in the moonlight with Ham after giving him a kiss on the cheek, the first kiss David had ever seen her give him. This certainly was a long chapter. And a long chapter summary.

The beginning of Chapter 23 finds David and Steerforth having breakfast the next morning, it is also the morning they are leaving. In this first paragraph David decides not to tell anyone, even Steerforth about Little Em’ly’s outburst the night before, he believes that what she revealed to him was by accident and it would be unworthy of their love to reveal it. In the original manuscript however, he does tell Steerforth about Martha. This was cut from the book:

"But I told Steerforth of what had happened with Martha. He listened to that recital in perfect silence, and was evidently moved by it. I thought it moved him to a kind of dread, like that I had observed in him last night, more than pity; but it did move him, and strongly too."

During breakfast David receives a letter from his aunt suggesting that he become a proctor and he discusses it with Steerforth on their way home. Steerforth thinks that the profession of proctor would suit David as well as any, and goes on to explain what a proctor is. I won't go into everything Steerforth tells David but I will add one thing that was in the manuscript but cut from the book. When Steerforth begins to tell David what a proctor is he says:

"I confess I think it's in the main a question of gammon and spinach, as my friend Miss Mowcher would say,' he returned. 'A proctor is a gentlemanly sort of fellow. I don't see any objection to your being a proctor. You shall take out my marriage-license, if I ever want one, if that is any inducement, and you shall separate my wife and me afterwards, and you shall prove my will, if you live long enough.'"

When David arrives in London, he meets up with Miss Betsey, who has traveled to London to see him. She has left Mr. Dick behind and is worried he will not keep the donkeys away. This visit from Aunt Betsey is my favorite part of these chapters. I love this:

'So you have left Mr. Dick behind, aunt?' said I. 'I am sorry for that. Ah, Janet, how do you do?'

As Janet curtsied, hoping I was well, I observed my aunt's visage lengthen very much.

'I am sorry for it, too,' said my aunt, rubbing her nose. 'I have had no peace of mind, Trot, since I have been here.' Before I could ask why, she told me.

'I am convinced,' said my aunt, laying her hand with melancholy firmness on the table, 'that Dick's character is not a character to keep the donkeys off. I am confident he wants strength of purpose. I ought to have left Janet at home, instead, and then my mind might perhaps have been at ease. If ever there was a donkey trespassing on my green,' said my aunt, with emphasis, 'there was one this afternoon at four o'clock. A cold feeling came over me from head to foot, and I know it was a donkey!'

I tried to comfort her on this point, but she rejected consolation.

'It was a donkey,' said my aunt; 'and it was the one with the stumpy tail which that Murdering sister of a woman rode, when she came to my house.' This had been, ever since, the only name my aunt knew for Miss Murdstone. 'If there is any Donkey in Dover, whose audacity it is harder to me to bear than another's, that,' said my aunt, striking the table, 'is the animal!'

Janet ventured to suggest that my aunt might be disturbing herself unnecessarily, and that she believed the donkey in question was then engaged in the sand-and-gravel line of business, and was not available for purposes of trespass. But my aunt wouldn't hear of it."

Aunt Betsey certainly has some strange ideas which usually make me smile. I also liked this part:

"Supper was comfortably served and hot, though my aunt's rooms were very high up—whether that she might have more stone stairs for her money, or might be nearer to the door in the roof, I don't know—and consisted of a roast fowl, a steak, and some vegetables, to all of which I did ample justice, and which were all excellent. But my aunt had her own ideas concerning London provision, and ate but little.

'I suppose this unfortunate fowl was born and brought up in a cellar,' said my aunt, 'and never took the air except on a hackney coach-stand. I hope the steak may be beef, but I don't believe it. Nothing's genuine in the place, in my opinion, but the dirt.'

'Don't you think the fowl may have come out of the country, aunt?' I hinted.

'Certainly not,' returned my aunt. 'It would be no pleasure to a London tradesman to sell anything which was what he pretended it was.'

I smile reading this but I'm glad there wasn't a London tradesman around to hear her. David tells his aunt that he would be happy to be a proctor, but he is worried because it will cost his aunt a thousand pounds to place him with a firm. David is uneasy about that, he tells her she has always been very generous to him and asks if she is sure she wants to part with such a large sum of money. Her reply is that her object in life, is to provide for his being a good, a sensible, and a happy man. She tells him:

'It's in vain, Trot, to recall the past, unless it works some influence upon the present. Perhaps I might have been better friends with your poor father. Perhaps I might have been better friends with that poor child your mother, even after your sister Betsey Trotwood disappointed me. When you came to me, a little runaway boy, all dusty and way-worn, perhaps I thought so. From that time until now, Trot, you have ever been a credit to me and a pride and a pleasure. I have no other claim upon my means; at least'—here to my surprise she hesitated, and was confused—'no, I have no other claim upon my means—and you are my adopted child. Only be a loving child to me in my age, and bear with my whims and fancies; and you will do more for an old woman whose prime of life was not so happy or conciliating as it might have been, than ever that old woman did for you.'

On their way to establish David at the Doctors’ Commons the next day, a man who looks like a beggar approaches them, and to David's great astonishment, she tells him to wait for her, and she drives off in a coach with the "lowering ill-dressed man". When she returns, David notices that she has given the man most of her money. David is very disturbed and thinks back to the time that Mr. Dick had told him of the strange man who had frightened Aunt Betsey. He is certain it must be the same man. However Aunt Betsey makes him swear never to mention the event again.

They now go to the offices of Spenlow and Jorkins, where Mr. Spenlow agrees to engage David as a clerk .Mr. Spenlow is a"little light-haired gentleman, with undeniable boots, and the stiffest of white cravats and shirt-collars", who explains that his partner, Mr. Jorkins, is a ruthless taskmaster:

"I was quite dismayed by the idea of this terrible Jorkins. But I found out afterwards that he was a mild man of a heavy temperament, whose place in the business was to keep himself in the background, and be constantly exhibited by name as the most obdurate and ruthless of men. If a clerk wanted his salary raised, Mr. Jorkins wouldn't listen to such a proposition. If a client were slow to settle his bill of costs, Mr. Jorkins was resolved to have it paid; and however painful these things might be (and always were) to the feelings of Mr. Spenlow, Mr. Jorkins would have his bond. The heart and hand of the good angel Spenlow would have been always open, but for the restraining demon Jorkins. As I have grown older, I think I have had experience of some other houses doing business on the principle of Spenlow and Jorkins!"

It was settled that David should begin a month's probation, and he and his aunt go to find lodgings for David. His aunt tells him that there is a furnished little set of chambers to be let in the Adelphi, she had seen the advertisement and had cut it out of the newspaper, the advertisement stated that in Buckingham Street there was to be let furnished," with a view of the river, a singularly desirable, and compact set of chambers, forming a genteel residence for a young gentleman, a member of one of the Inns of Court, or otherwise, with immediate possession. Terms moderate, and could be taken for a month only, if required." David and Aunt Betsey go see the apartment which David finds delightful and agree to rent it. They speak to Mrs. Crupp, an old landlady who promises to take care of David as though he were her own son. The chapter ends with Aunt Betsey and Janet returning home. Sorry for another long chapter summary.

Chapter 24 starts with David being thrilled with his new apartment. He tells us it was a wonderfully fine thing to have the apartment all to himself, calling it a lofty castle. He loves to walk about town with the key of his house in his pocket, and invite anyone he wanted to home with him . He loved the independence but shortly it began to become dreary. It certainly didn't take him long to loose the thrilled feeling about being on his own because after only two days and two nights he was lonely, wishing he had someone to talk to and wondering why Steerforth didn't come to see him.

When Steerforth finally does come David is filled with "unbounded joy" which makes me cringe. Steerforth agrees to come back that evening with two of his friends to have dinner with David, a "little housewarming". David hires a young man to wait on them and a young woman to wash the dishes in the pantry. He orders nearly all the food from the pastry cook at the suggestion of Mrs. Crupp because she tells him her kitchen fireplace can only cook chops and mashed potatoes. He also orders a rather extensive order of wine. Everyone consumes a great deal of this wine, both during and after dinner and David soon becomes "singularly cheerful and light-hearted" laughing at his jokes and everyone elses. Eventually they decide to go to the theatre. Somehow he actually makes it to the theatre that he describes this way:

"Shortly afterwards, we were very high up in a very hot theatre, looking down into a large pit, that seemed to me to smoke; the people with whom it was crammed were so indistinct. There was a great stage, too, looking very clean and smooth after the streets; and there were people upon it, talking about something or other, but not at all intelligibly. There was an abundance of bright lights, and there was music, and there were ladies down in the boxes, and I don't know what more. The whole building looked to me as if it were learning to swim; it conducted itself in such an unaccountable manner, when I tried to steady it."

They go downstairs to where the ladies were; and there he discovers Agnes at the theater with some friends and tries to talk to her. She is embarrassed and asks him to leave. He is angry with her but also embarrassed and Steerforth helps David return home. The next morning David is plagued with remorse and shame:

"But the agony of mind, the remorse, and shame I felt when I became conscious next day! My horror of having committed a thousand offences I had forgotten, and which nothing could ever expiate—my recollection of that indelible look which Agnes had given me—the torturing impossibility of communicating with her, not knowing, Beast that I was, how she came to be in London, or where she stayed—my disgust of the very sight of the room where the revel had been held—my racking head—the smell of smoke, the sight of glasses, the impossibility of going out, or even getting up! Oh, what a day it was! "

This was my least favorite chapter and the name of the chapter being MY FIRST DISSIPATION I also hope it is his last. I'm going to look for illustrations as soon as I can but the first of my Easter guests is walking in the door at this moment.

Thank you, Kim, for your thoroughgoing summary and of course all the illustrations.

It's very interesting that Mrs Mowcher was 'partly' (as Dickens would have it) based on a real person. At least he had the good sense to apologise to her.

I agree that Steerforth appears to be set on the wrong path. How I wish that David would open his eyes; he is just so totally enamoured of Steerforth. I suppose that Steerforth is at least aware of his own weaknesses and his bemoaning the lack of a father to guide him, further shows that he is potentially set on a hazardous course.

Who is this male stranger who dogs Aunt Betsey? I really feel for her.

The night of the carousel was painful to witness and particularly cringeworthy in his unexpected rendezvous with Agnes. Poor David!

Hi Kim

Thanks again for the illustrations and the research of your commentary. I think I can explain the reversal of image from the working drawing to the final illustration. The reversal of the image in the working drawing and the final image that appears in the text is due to the methodology of the process. The illustrator makes the "picture" by engraving it upon a plate. The plate is then inked and run off and impressed into the paper surface. The corresponding image will then be in reverse. For instance, if you take a child's wooden block, say the letter C, apply a bit of paint to the entire surface and then press the block onto a piece of paper the letter will be reversed. Also, where the flat surface of the child's block receives the paint will be where the painted surface will make the impression. Em'ly's "contrasting purity" in the Browne illustration would occur because the original plate would be hollowed out in any area that required white. White in a picture meant the area was hollowed out and black meant the plate's surface had the ink rolled onto it.

Everything in reverse. Somewhat like holding a book up to a mirror. All the letters and words are in reverse. When ink is added the contrast of the hills and valleys of the engraving will also appear.

I'm having a difficult time trying to puzzle out Steerforth. His actions and words make him very disagreeable. His sincerity is, even on a good day, highly questionable. That said, in Ch. 22 Steerfoth comments "I wish with all my soul I had been better guided ... . I wish with all my soul I could guide myself better." Are we as readers to take these words at face value, and therefore have sympathy for Steerforth? Is Dickens setting up the early stages of a backstory for Steerforth? More cynically, is this Steerforth being false again, and trying to sow seeds of pity in David's mind? If the latter is the case, then Steerforth is very MacBeth-like indeed.

It turns out that Steerforth is an accomplished sailor (another character profile name given by Dickens?) and he purchases a clipper to be captained by Mr. Peggotty. The ship's name is the "Stormy Petrel" but is re-named "Little Em'ly." Oh my! The Petrel is a bird that comes to land only to mate. The Storm Petrel is one of the smallest of seabirds. The new name for the sailboat is "Little Em'ly." Co-incidence only? I don't think so. Storm clouds ahead.

Further elements of Ch. 22 that make me uneasy are Little Em'ly's own comments when she says "Oh I am not as good a girl as I ought to be."

When David and Steerforth meet Ham and Little Em'ly we are told that Em'ly "withdrew her hand timidly from [Ham's] arm as we stopped to speak to them, and blushed as she gave it to Steerforth and me. when we passed on ... she did not like to replace that hand, but ... walked by herself."

The physicality, and the lack of it, in this passage is as close as Dickens could come to telling his readers about the relationship triangle among Ham, Steerforth and Little Em'ly. The giving and removal of her hand leads directly to the suggestion of the physical intimacy of the characters.

In ch. 24, in a drunken state, David says to Steerforth "you'retheguidingstarofmyexistance." (sic) A drunken ramble of words or one more frightening indication that David is being steered into dangerous uncharted waters.

Well, clearly from my posts I'm anti Steerforth.

Kim wrote: "The only hope I have for Steerforth is that one night when David happens to come to the boat after having visited his old home, he finds Steerforth alone and in a bad mood, David is surprised to find Steerforth in such a despondent mood. Steerforth says that he is angry that he has not had a father all these years and that he is unable to guide himself better."

Yes, it was an interesting moment. It humanized Steerforth to a degree we hadn't seen before, and helps understand a bit why he is the way he is. We are all products of our environment.

Kim wrote: "I smile reading this but I'm glad there wasn't a London tradesman around to hear her."

Oh, I don't know. I think they might even have been proud of being recognized as more than a bit shady. This cockney land, after all.

Kim wrote: "David hires a young man to wait on them and a young woman to wash the dishes in the pantry. He orders nearly all the food from the pastry cook at the suggestion of Mrs. Crupp because she tells him her kitchen fireplace can only cook chops and mashed potatoes."

Once again, as with the waiter in his trip to school, the passenger in the coach on the trip I forget where, the hotel, David shows himself a constant victim unable to assert himself or any of his rights. I shudder to think of him a member of my legal profession. His clients will not be well served unless he grows a whole lot stronger backbone very quickly.

I could do without Miss Mowcher.

David's Dissipation: we can't blame Steerforth for this. He tries to keep David under control, but David is insistent on getting drunker and drunker.

His character continues to deteriorate, IMO. I can't see him doing well in London without the oversight of his mother, Peggoty, Miss Betsy, his school, or the other influences which have kept him somewhat on the right path. But there is something fundamentally weak about his character which is of great concern.

* MISS Mowcher. I have inadvertently conflated the fictional character with that of the real MRS Hill. It is no wonder that dear Mrs Hill was less than enthusiastic about Dickens's description.

I didn't like the character of Mowcher, but she did afford a certain macabre light relief.

Hilary wrote: "* I didn't like the character of Mowcher, but she did afford a certain macabre light relief. ."

Macabre, yes.

Light, not for me. I found her heavy and unamusing. I hope she doesn't reappear.

I thought that from her background story she might reappear, but in a more flattering guise in order not to risk offending Mrs Hill any further. Perhaps not though. Even though this is a reread, there are sometimes advantages of a poor memory.

Kim wrote: "I have had the queerest adventure this morning," he wrote (28th of December 1849) on the eve of his tenth number, "the receipt of the enclosed from Miss Moucher! It is serio-comic, but there is no doubt one is wrong in being tempted to such a use of power." ..."

Thanks again, Kim, for adding so much background context to your summary.

This sentence of Dickens quoted by Forster brings to mind Steerforth again; my impression is deepening that the character is an aspect of Dickens himself. He is still amused, even when he knows how much he has hurt Mrs. Hill, and despite appearing to have some awareness of his wrongdoing. I find his apology to her hard to believe, as well as his surprise. Did he not think she would read the story, or recognize herself, especially considering his wife was her client? For someone so brilliant, sometimes he comes across as remarkably thick, or worse, uncaring. His temptation to such a "use of power" sounds very like Steerforth...

Peter wrote: "Steerfoth comments "I wish with all my soul I had been better guided ... . I wish with all my soul I could guide myself better." Are we as readers to take these words at face value, and therefore have sympathy for Steerforth? ..."

I took his comment at face value; David is so enamoured with Steerforth, I don't think it would be necessary to trick him. I'm afraid I'm not feeling much sympathy for Steerforth at the moment. He's half-a-dozen (?) years older than David and has had time to seek guidance elsewhere (including from his adopted sister, if he would listen). I am curious about his father, however.

That is very interesting about the name Petrel, and the renaming of the boat. Like David, Little Em'ly has become Steerforth's 'property'.

Vanessa wrote: "Peter wrote: "Steerfoth comments "I wish with all my soul I had been better guided ... . I wish with all my soul I could guide myself better." Are we as readers to take these words at face value, a..."

There is more to the lore and myth of the Petrel but the information would act as possible "spoilers" and reduce our enjoyment of reading the novel. When the time(s) come I'll suggest possible meanings. As to whether Dickens meant the information to be there is, of course, much of the fun of reading him. Kim's continuing wonderful research does help us see that there were certainly wheels within the wheels of his novels.

I've only just finished the reading and am catching up on the comments--I found the discussion on the illustration of Martha et al so interesting.

Poor David - so young, so easily influenced, so in need of a mentor, a real one and not a dark angel like Steerforth.

One minor thing that struck me was Aunt Betsey's bedtime snack of warm white wine, cut with water, and strips of toast to dunk therein. Really? Doesn't tempt my tastebuds at all!

Yes Jane, that had struck me as an odd snack, though perhaps befitting for Aunt Betsey. Now if it were a delicious red wine with cheese and baguettes I might well have joined her ...

Aunt Betsey might be whacky at times but her evident distrust of London victuals seems to be well-founded. Here is what I found, for example, in Ruth Goodman's excellent How to be a Victorian with regard to milk:

"Out in the countryside, the likelihood of having access to good-quality milk was reasonable, although tuberculosis was very prevalent even in well-kept herds. In towns, the chances of getting pure milk from healthy cows were much slimmer. Much of the milk sold in town had already been watered and coloured by people keen to enhance their meagre profits. Town milk could be more than 50 per cent water and was often lower in fat in the first place, due to the poor living conditions and fodder of the town-kept herds. Such second-rate milk and water mixes often took on a bluish tinge which those who sold it sought to counteract by colouring the milk with anything from chalk to alum to make it appear more like the healthy country equivalent." (pp.236f.)

I must say that I actually liked Chapter 24 because it shows a less endearing side of David's character, and thus makes his character seem rounder. In a way, his first dissipation makes us realize that he is not a little goody-two-shoes Oliver Twist but a young man who may have personal qualities but who can also go astray - and what is more likely for a young man to sow his wild oats when he is left alone in a big city with some money to dispose of? It speaks in favour of David that he feels ashamed after his drinking bout and will probably be cured of behaviour like that altogether ... and by the way, Dickens descrbibes the scene with a lot of humour, as e.g. here:

"Somebody was leaning out of my bedroom window, refreshing his forehead against the cool stone of the parapet, and feeling the air upon his face. It was myself. I was addressing myself as 'Copperfield', and saying, 'Why did you try to smoke? You might have known you couldn't do it.' Now, somebody was unsteadily contemplating his features in the looking-glass. That was I too. I was very pale in the looking-glass; my eyes had a vacant appearance; and my hair—only my hair, nothing else—looked drunk."

And then Mrs. Crupp is another marvellous character, who reminds me, in a certain kind of way, of good old Mrs. Gamp. I found it very amusing how Mrs. Crupp, who is so overjoyed that at least she has someone to care for again, tries to glean some advantage from David's housewarming project by talking him into all sorts of expenses and finding strange excuses for it such as this one:

"It was a remarkable instance of want of forethought on the part of the ironmonger who had made Mrs. Crupp's kitchen fireplace, that it was capable of cooking nothing but chops and mashed potatoes. As to a fish-kittle, Mrs. Crupp said, well! would I only come and look at the range? She couldn't say fairer than that. Would I come and look at it? As I should not have been much the wiser if I HAD looked at it, I declined, and said, 'Never mind fish.' But Mrs. Crupp said, Don't say that; oysters was in, why not them? So THAT was settled. Mrs. Crupp then said what she would recommend would be this. A pair of hot roast fowls—from the pastry-cook's; a dish of stewed beef, with vegetables—from the pastry-cook's; two little corner things, as a raised pie and a dish of kidneys—from the pastrycook's; a tart, and (if I liked) a shape of jelly—from the pastrycook's. This, Mrs. Crupp said, would leave her at full liberty to concentrate her mind on the potatoes, and to serve up the cheese and celery as she could wish to see it done."

It might also not take a lot of knowledge of human nature to guess where those two bottles of wine had gone that were missing when David came home and saw that the batch of bottles he had ordered had finally arrived.

Come on, more sympathy for Mrs. Crupp, please! ;-)

Tristram wrote: "And then Mrs. Crupp is another marvellous character, who reminds me, in a certain kind of way, of good old Mrs. Gamp. I found it very amusing how Mrs. Crupp, who is so overjoyed that at least she h..."

You are right. Mrs. Crupp is a great creation. David's night of dissipation is very familiar to all of us at least once ... somewhere in the deepest recesses of our youthful memories. ; -)

Tristram wrote: "In a way, his first dissipation makes us realize that he is not a little goody-two-shoes Oliver Twist but a young man who may have personal qualities but who can also go astray... "

Not the best rendition, but the best I could conveniently find.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QI_sf...

But they gentled it down to "gentlemen songsters" and "doomed from here..." whereas you can see what the original was:

We’re poor little lambs who’ve lost our way,
Baa! Baa! Baa!
We’re little black sheep who’ve gone astray,
Baa—aa—aa!
Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree,
Damned from here to Eternity,
God ha’ mercy on such as we,
Baa! Yah! Bah!

By the way, the crossed sashes you see on several of them are baldrics, and it's pretty clear that they are English Morris dancers probably relaxing in the pub after a Morris tour. As for me, been there, done that many times, was squire (dance leader) and one of the musicians for several Morris sides back in my youth, and whenever possible, which it usually was (or we didn't go there) we would find a welcoming pub, or something as close to an English pub as we could find, to slake our thirsts (though I of course limited myself to non-alcoholic beverages).

What, you've never seen Morris dancing? Well, prepare to be informed and amazed.

This side is clearly an amateur side, especially the grey haired man in the red bells, but they are pretty typical for a local non-professional side. (We were mostly non-professional, though we did get paid from time to time to perform at various folk festivals.)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RZjLA...

This is a somewhat more polished side:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cbifC...

Most Morris is done in sides of six men, but there are also some solo jigs.

This is a solo dance, but done with two alternating pairs, because frankly it’s an exhausting jig – I used to dance it solo, and was usually drenched in sweat by the end. This is a fairly typical setting, crowds just standing around watching us dance in the street or in a park. I love this one for the kids coming out to copy the dancers – and the little one running out and having to be rescued by his mother! All that, yes, did happen, and we loved it when it did.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JnidJ...
Don’t miss the high capers at about 2:20. Imagine having to do those after all the vigorous dancing done before.

Here’s another jig I also used to dance, The Nutting Girl, again obviously an agricultural dance:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uBGrz...
This team wears smocks instead of baldrics.

What, you ask, is the purpose of all this? We dance in the spring as a fertility ritual. The stamping and the bells are to wake up Mother Earth to get her ready for planting. The sticks represent the tools of the rural farmer (Morris goes way back before metal tools) -- there is, for example, a dance called "Beansetting" where the sticks are dug into the ground to plant beans. ) The white waves are to scare away the evil winter spirits so that the goddesses of fertility can feel it safe to come back to earth.

Ah, memories of the days that were.

But, this is a Dickens group, after all. I’m not sure that Dickens ever mentioned Morris dancing in any of his books, but I’m sure he saw it from time to time. And it is certainly linked now with many Dickensian festivals. For example, here’s Hunters Moon Morris dancing Much Wenlock at the Dickensian Evening in Alfriston on 4th December 2010
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hydQB...

The Kingsessing Morris Men Performed at the Narberth Dickens Holiday Festival (no video, whew, you say, I’ve seen enough morris dancing for one evening)
http://phillydance.com/~kingsessmorris/

And one more, just to cement the Dickens-Morris dance link to justify all the Morris dance info in a Dickens group:
In Philadelphia, the celebration of Dickens’s 203rd birthday included Morris dancing
http://www.friendsofclarkpark.org//?s...

Tristram wrote: "Come on, more sympathy for Mrs. Crupp, please! ;-) "

So, you would be willing to hire Mrs. Crupp to be your cook-housekeeper, and not mind where some of the wine ended up? :)

Peter wrote: " David's night of dissipation is very familiar to all of us at least once .."

Uh, not quite all of us.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PK6Rv...

Everyman wrote: "As for me, been there, done that many times, was squire (dance leader) and one of the musicians for several Morris sides back in my youth, ..."

Everyman, you're a Morris dancer?! Where do/did you dance? I was one of those kids, running around on the sidelines... My dad formed a local group here in Victoria. And he was also an organizer at the local Dickens club, so the connection seems natural, to me. I'm sure Dickens must have seen it danced. Thanks for all the Youtube links; they pulled the heartstrings.

Everyman wrote: "Peter wrote: " David's night of dissipation is very familiar to all of us at least once .."

Peter, count me in. I thought Dickens vividly and humorously described the effects... :)

Everyman wrote: What, you've never seen Morris dancing? Well, prepare to be informed and amazed."

You make me laugh Everyman, as you brought a memory flooding back. I remember how horrified I was in my high school years when I came across my Drama teacher, morris dancing at a spring fair. I wouldn't be that embarrassed now, but as a teen, I didn't think much of it. Although, I must say that I was a May Queen and we danced around the May pole. That was fun when I was a little lass.

Thanks for all the Morris links, Everyman. It's a sort of an English 'Riverdance' then. I had no idea about the history of it. Very interesting. I love the bells. Reminds me of Santa's sleigh at Christmas time; yes Kim! Oh what I would give to have seen you, Everyman, in one of your performances.

Oh and Tristram, yay for Mrs Crupp! She is a paragon of feminine virtue.

Vanessa wrote: "Everyman, you're a Morris dancer?!"

Was, not is, but yes. My father was a Morris dancer with the Pinewoods Morris Men, and I started dancing with them when I was about 16. Then later I was a founder and squire of Pokingbrook Morris in Poughkeepsie, New York. We danced mostly in the Hudson River Valley, touring various towns and once down into New York City, several years at the Niskyuna (sp?) folk festival in Albany, dancing with Pete Seeger in the Clearwater festivals and also as he sang his way up and down the Hudson valley raising money for Clearwater, and of course in Pinewoods. Later I danced at Hudson Guild and with the Pittsburgh Morris Men. Since moving west many years ago I taught and danced for a few years with a few people here who were pulled together by an enthusiastic woman who wanted to learn Morris, but after a few years that fizzled and I haven't danced since, though I did go to several ales around the area and would sometimes fill in as musician (since as well as the concertina I play the traditional pipe and tabor which fewer musicians can play these days).

More than you wanted to know, but you did ask!

Everyman, you well and truly deserve your name. A man of many talents (and professions, from memory)!

Everyman wrote: "Vanessa wrote: "Everyman, you're a Morris dancer?!"

Was, not is, but yes. My father was a Morris dancer with the Pinewoods Morris Men, and I started dancing with them when I was about 16. Then la..."

A second-generation Morris dancer! That is impressive. I think (as my father probably would have) that anyone with a history like this IS a Morris dancer, regardless of whether they currently dance. I hope you got Pete Seeger to join in :) Hollytree, the group my father formed (the oldest in Canada, I believe) are still going, and are having an ale this summer to celebrate the 90th birthday of a member. You would likely be a young one there. Perhaps you've crossed Morris paths already; they've travelled, including in the early years to the Olympics in Montreal, but also closer to home. I'm not sure if anyone plays the pipe and tabor locally, especially in addition to the concertina! Thanks for giving another experience of Morris dancing. I hear bells...

Kim wrote: "Here is one by Fred Barnard:

"That is a black shadow to be following the girl," said Steerforth, standing still; "What does it mean?"

Chapter 22"

This particular picture/sketch really appeals to me. It captures the mood very well.

Everyman wrote: "Tristram wrote: "Come on, more sympathy for Mrs. Crupp, please! ;-) "

So, you would be willing to hire Mrs. Crupp to be your cook-housekeeper, and not mind where some of the wine ended up? :)"

No way, Everyman! But I would willingly recommend her to at least half a dozen people I know ;-)

In fact, I rather like the character because she seems like a more benevolent version of Mrs. Gamp.

By the way, Everyman, you impress me more and more: Playing music with the Clancy Brothers, working as a lawyer and a teacher, and now even being a Morris dancer ... I am humbled by the latitude of your skills and interests.

Kim,

thanks again for the visual input. I must say that I am rather dismayed at finding Steerforth presented as such a chubby and harmless-looking oaf. I imagine him as something more along the lines of Byron.

I don't know what to make of Miss Mowcher, but once again I'm impressed by Barnard's illustrations. Just look at Aunt Betsey in the illustration in posts 43 and 44. In the presence of Mrs. Crupp she is her usual self, upright and full of energy, whereas in the other situation she shies away from the mysterious stranger.

Well, Everyman, you really are a musician and a dancer and. ... Well impressed. :-)

Tristram wrote: "By the way, Everyman, you impress me more and more: Playing music with the Clancy Brothers, working as a lawyer and a teacher, and now even being a Morris dancer ... I am humbled by the latitude of your skills and interests."

I'm not.

Bwah ha ha, Kim! [g]

Tristram wrote: "No way, Everyman! But I would willingly recommend her to at least half a dozen people I know ;-)"

You have that many enemies, eh? [g]

Kim wrote: "I make the acquaintance of Miss Mowcher"

Ahh...I have missed seeing the illustrations you post, Kim. So, there is Miss Mowcher. I found her description and mannerisms quite amusing. There were quite a few descriptions of people in this week's reading where I was really admiring Dickens for being able to put an image of someone quite readily in my head with only a few choice words or phrases.

Peter wrote: "I'm having a difficult time trying to puzzle out Steerforth. His actions and words make him very disagreeable. His sincerity is, even on a good day, highly questionable. That said, in Ch. 22 Steerfoth comments "I wish with all my soul I had been better guided ... . I wish with all my soul I could guide myself better." Are we as readers to take these words at face value, and therefore have sympathy for Steerforth?"

I was saddened to see that Steerforth's sincerity was less than ideal during one of the previous chapters where he was speaking to David about the Peggoty family, and then to see other instances too. We've seen David taken advantage of by numerous people time and time again, and then to find that the one friend that David really looks up to is not as sincere or possibly trustworthy as a good friend should be was really disheartening.

When David comes upon Steerforth, I believe Steerforth assumed he was alone and so I took his anguish to be true. And I do hope they are his true feelings, it would be satisfying to see his poor characteristics change for the better by exploring why he acts the way he does.

Peter wrote: "The ship's name is the "Stormy Petrel" but is re-named "Little Em'ly." Oh my!"

I'm completely suspicious of what Steerforth's feelings and possible actions towards Em'ly are.

Peter wrote: "Well, clearly from my posts I'm anti Steerforth."

:) I think I'm right there with you, Peter.

Everyman wrote: "I could do without Miss Mowcher."

I would certainly be irritated with her in real life, but I was entertained reading about her.

Jane wrote: "One minor thing that struck me was Aunt Betsey's bedtime snack of warm white wine, cut with water, and strips of toast to dunk therein. Really? Doesn't tempt my tastebuds at all!"

Ha! Yes, I was thinking the same thing. I tried imagining myself eating that and wondering how warm wine and toast would taste. It was not tempting at all.

Tristram wrote: " I found it very amusing how Mrs. Crupp, who is so overjoyed that at least she has someone to care for again"

I did too, Tristram. But then I also thought of the poor chap who died previous to David's arrival. Sounds like Mrs. Crupp could have done a little bit better job of caring for her tenants?