The Pickwick Club discussion
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Dombey and Son
Dombey and Son
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Dombey, Chapters 17 - 19
Poor Paul's Friend
Chapter 18
The Wooden Midshipman on the Look-Out
Chapter 19
I dare anybody to not like Capt'n Cuttle.
I also dare anybody not to have their heart ache for poor Florence. Paul dead. A father who is dead to her, or more accurately she to him. And now Walter gone. Susan Nipper is hardly adequate company for a near woman of her wealth and status. At least she had Diogenes.
'Come, then, Di! Dear Di! Make friends with your new mistress. Let us love each other, Di!' said Florence, fondling his shaggy head. And Di, the rough and gruff, as if his hairy hide were pervious to the tear that dropped upon it, and his dog's heart melted as it fell, put his nose up to her face, and swore fidelity.
If Florence's is the only tear that drops as people read this passage, their hearts are coal and they deserve no joy in their lives ever again.
1. I love Capt'n Cuttle.2. My heart aches for poor Florence.
3. Tears have been shed.
phew!
Loved the last paragraph of Chapter 19. Good ol' Diogenes. I hope he makes it to the end of the book.Diogenes already loved her for her own, and didn't care how much he showed it. So he made himself vastly ridiculous by performing a variety of uncouth bounces in the ante-chamber, and concluded, when poor Florence was at last asleep, and dreaming of the rosy children opposite, by scratching open her bedroom door: rolling up his bed into a pillow: lying down on the boards, at the full length of his tether, with his head towards her: and looking lazily at her, upside down, out of the tops of his eyes, until from winking and winking he fell asleep himself, and dreamed, with gruff barks, of his enemy.
Linda wrote: "Loved the last paragraph of Chapter 19. Good ol' Diogenes. I hope he makes it to the end of the book.Diogenes already loved her for her own, and didn't care how much he showed it. So he made hi..."
What a wonderful passage. If Dickens kills Diogenes off, I will be sorely tempted to go to Dickens's grave, dig him up, and kick him soundly in the derriere.
Tristram wrote: "Once again, one might accuse Dickens of utter sentimentality. I'm thinking of the father and his bunch of daughters in the house opposite the Dombey Mansion..."The house full of daughters seemed to appear suddenly. It was unexpected and I felt as if it was a bit over the top in terms of showing us a contrast between what type of relationship Florence and her father have and the relationships that are apparent from watching the father and daughters in the house across the street. Watching this other family felt like Dickens was hitting me over the head with what Florence and Dombey don't have.
What would you say of the development of Florence's character?
I was pretty surprised at the appearance of Florence and Susan at Sol's establishment, and her forwardness at offering herself as a companion while Walter is away. Maybe she is now seeing what a lonely life she is in for if she doesn't take the initiative to forge some relationships, especially after having been freshly rejected by her father after a time when a loving family tenderness would have been expected to present itself.
Kim, thank you for the pictures. Love Diogenes! I'm so glad that Florence has something in her life to give her total love and affection.
Oh, poor Florence! My heart bled for her in that scene with her father.
The house with the father & many daughters did appear quiet suddenly.
I took it differently, though. At a time when Florence was being completely shut out by her father and treated extremely coldly, this family moved in across the street.
Although it is very painful for her to watch, it is showing her that a warm father is something that exists in our world. With only her father as a guide, she may be in danger of believing that ALL fathers are as cold as hers. This other father shows her, sadly but also hopefully, that there are warm, loving fathers of daughters out there.
It makes Florence's situation sadder because it strikes at her heart and shows her what she's missing out on. But it also shows her that this sort of warm relationship between a father and daughter can exist.
I'm not sure what Dickens is trying to show us by making Florence suffer so by watching this family. I can only hope that he's got something positive in mind for adding more pain to her life.
"Any ideas about what Mr. Carker might be up to?"He's one devious character. My guess is that now that Paul (and an heir) is gone, Mr. Carker is gearing up to get his clutches into Dombey & Son and turn it into Carker & Son.....or just plain Carker Co.
He's up to no good, that's for sure.
"What do you think about Dombey's reasons for showing some new coldness to Florence? What are his reasons?"
He's so deep into grief.....but I'm finding it really hard to give him much more sympathy. There's only so far one can lean on one's "stiff upper lip" upbringing. I had high hopes, until this scene, that he may come to his senses and realize that Florence is as much his flesh and blood as Paul.
I think he may be thinking that he'd rather Florence had died than Paul. He seems to be blaming her for living when Paul had to die.
That's so cold and unbelievable! I'm actually quite upset at Dombey for this scene.
Petra wrote: "With only her father as a guide, she may be in danger of believing that ALL fathers are as cold as hers. This other father shows her, sadly but also hopefully, that there are warm, loving fathers of daughters out there."True - good point Petra. I wonder if witnessing this loving relationship across the street had anything to do with her reaching out to Uncle Sol? That she just needed to find the "right" adult to look up to who is willing to reciprocate some tenderness? Or would she have done that anyway?
As far as Dombey's coldness towards Florence is concerned, I can only think that it is spawned from his broken dream of the collapse of the great empire of 'Dombey and Son'. There appears to be an irrational blaming of Florence for her failure to die in Paul's stead. There is perhaps also a further distancing from Florence, partly out of jealousy owing to her close relationship with Paul and Dombey's lack of such closeness. More benignly we might consider a certain self-preservation on Dombey's part in that he fears becoming close with Florence should he, likewise, lose her. This, however, at present, would seem to be stretching credulity. Dombey seems to be totally self-absorbed and self-pitying. He can't seem to see beyond his own broken heart in order to SEE Florence at all.
Hilary wrote: "More benignly we might consider a certain self-preservation on Dombey's part in that he fears becoming close with Florence should he, likewise, lose her. "It would be nice to think so, but like you, I don't buy it.
Joy wrote: "Love Di. Love Florence. Dombey is a jerk."Three succinct character evaluations in eight words. I make that a world record!
Hilary wrote: "As far as Dombey's coldness towards Florence is concerned, I can only think that it is spawned from his broken dream of the collapse of the great empire of 'Dombey and Son'. There appears to be an..."I think that it really is the case that Dombey takes it ill that Florence has outlived his son, and yet - as little as we are allowed to enter the mind of Dombey - I also venture to say that maybe he does not mourn so much for Paul as the little child he has lost - he did not seem to be too interested in Paul's childhood and Paul's personality in the first place - but more for his notion of the Son in "Dombey and Son", i.e. for the thwarting (I love that word) of his future plans and his proud dreams.
And yes! This definitely boils down to the meanest form of self-pity.
The father with his daughters from across the street is a device I find absolutely pathetic in that it is anything but subtle. The empty dark house of which Florence now is mistress, as her father puts it, would have been sufficient as a symbol of Florence's sense of loneliness and neglect.Plus, I can hardly imagine that every day will bring sunshine and roses to that family across the street and that the little daughters will spend the entire day waiting impatiently for the return of their father. I mean have you ever seen a child actually waiting for somebody without getting distracted for any lenght of time? And the father is never so tired from his work that he just wants to spend some half-hour on his own, getting his head clear? And the children never quarrel?
Either Florence is making the whole family up, or Dickens has just relapsed into one of his Little-Nell-fits again.
And once I am at it: Is it just me, or is Carker Junior not really a twerp that is basking in self-pity and that maybe actually likes his own position of misery? I mean any normal person would think that it was better to quit the firm and try to open up a new prospect in life. After all he has not killed somebody, and so he would not have to be shunned and humiliated for his youthful peccadillo all his life. Except, of course, is he is a wretch addicted to feeling miserable.
Tristram wrote: "The father with his daughters from across the street is a device I find absolutely pathetic in that it is anything but subtle. The empty dark house of which Florence now is mistress, as her father ..."This entire post is a perfect summary of what I had thought at the time. And I can see that having this entire family made up in Florence's mind would actually be a plausible possibility, but somehow I don't think Dickens would go that route. Although who am I to say, this is only my third Dickens book.
Tristram, I think that you're right about Carker Junior. He seems to embrace misery; it appears to be his comfort blanket.As for the family across the road, they do seem to be real, but perhaps Florence's miserable existence leads her to embue their lives with an ideal that she longs for. It has a bittersweet sense to it. I think there is a German word to describe this, but it escapes me.
Tristram wrote: "The father with his daughters from across the street is a device I find absolutely pathetic in that it is anything but subtle. The empty dark house of which Florence now is mistress, as her father ..."Now Tristram, the family of daughters across the street is perhaps over the top but it is Dickens. Is he not the master of the over-extended symbol, image and character? ;>}
Florence continues to defy gravity in her development. What could be seen as excessive melodrama, pulling at readers' heart strings and even Nell-like echoes in places does not exist. I continue to be amazed with the development of Dickens's skill.
Florence is a very effectively drawn character. It would be tempting to find fault in her visit to the Midshipman to bid farewell to Walter, but that scene is written with skill, sympathy and precision.
Walter's character could also be seen as too cute, too contrived, but again Dickens keeps Walter's character fresh, interesting and sympathetic to the reader.
We are now at the point of the novel where the major images and symbols are firmly in place. Florence's shoes, the ship's name "Son and Heir," the references to time, the money Florence gives to Walter, Carker jr's. sad goodbye, his brother's teeth, the dusty Madeira bottle at the Midshipman, and the offering of Captain Cuttle's watch all frame the further development of the novel. And curse you Mr. Dombey. As he looks at Florence "There was not one touch of tenderness or pity in [Dombey's face] There was not one gleam of interest, parental recognition or relenting in it."
The love of Diogenes towards Florence is one without rules, roles or reservation. When Dickens writes of Florence's attempt to approach her father and his cold rejection "Let him remember it in that room, years to come" we have powerful foreshadowing that fits perfectly into the ongoing narrative.
Hilary wrote: "As for the family across the road, they do seem to be real, but perhaps Florence's miserable existence leads her to embue their lives with an ideal that she longs for. It has a bittersweet sense to it. "I agree, they are real, and they are partly the way Florence sees them, but she makes them more special and magical than they really are from the yearning to have the sort of family life they seem to.
Peter wrote: "...Florence's shoes,...Is there symbolism in Florence's shoes? If so, I have totally missed it. Please educate me!
Everyman wrote: "Peter wrote: "...Florence's shoes,...Is there symbolism in Florence's shoes? If so, I have totally missed it. Please educate me!"
Florence's shoes have made a couple of appearances in the novel so far. I lean towards the theory that once is once, twice could be coincidence but three times suggests a pattern, a meaning intended, a pattern to follow. While shoes will not make as many appearances as Carker's teeth (I've just read the next three chapters, wow that's a lot of teeth)we may see/hear from shoes, footsteps or the like again later in the novel. Then again, my speculations could be off the mark. Maybe I'm remembering TTC ...?
Tristram wrote: "for the thwarting (I love that word)" I just asked the computer what the German word for thwarting is and it told me "Vereitelung". Assuming the computer knows what it is talking about, do you love the German Vereitelung as much as the English thwarting?
Peter wrote: "Everyman wrote: "Peter wrote: "...Florence's shoes,...Is there symbolism in Florence's shoes? If so, I have totally missed it. Please educate me!"
Florence's shoes have made a couple of appear..."
I agree Peter. The first mention of the shoes, when she first met Walter, were that they were too big. To me it also appears as foreshadowing, for shoes she can never fill (as in the capacity of a son or specifically as in 'Dombey and Son').
I'm loving this novel. I reckon it could be up there is my top 3 Dickens novels.
Oh yes, Kate, I like the idea of the foreshadowing shoes!
Kate wrote: "I'm loving this novel. I reckon it could be up there is my top 3 Dickens novels."Kate, I had my misgivings about re-reading this one since I did not appreciate it too much last time, but apparently I have grown more mature (and more podgy, but that's another matter) and so each week I must force myself not to read in advance.
Hilary wrote: " It has a bittersweet sense to it. I think there is a German word to describe this, but it escapes me."Maybe you mean wehmütig?
Kim wrote: "Tristram wrote: "for the thwarting (I love that word)" I just asked the computer what the German word for thwarting is and it told me "Vereitelung". Assuming the computer knows what it is talkin..."
Vereitelung is a good word in that it is very rarely used but it still does not have that powerful sound like "thwart", does it. That's why I prefer "thwart".
Tristram wrote: "Kate wrote: "I'm loving this novel. I reckon it could be up there is my top 3 Dickens novels."Kate, I had my misgivings about re-reading this one since I did not appreciate it too much last time,..."
Lol. Lucky that we all grow up! It took will power for me not to get ahead too, the other week.
KateDombey and Son is one of my favourites too. GE and BH top Dombey but the margin is not as wide as it used to be.
Tristram wrote: "but apparently I have grown more mature...."You mean old.
Tristram, that's a wonderful word: wehmütigI'd love to say that I recall it, but that would be untrue. As you love 'thwart', there are certain German words that have a similar effect on me. If I believed in reincarnation, which I don't, I might think that I may have been German in a previous life. Perhaps it is all part of a common consciousness which I fail to understand.
Peter wrote: "KateDombey and Son is one of my favourites too. GE and BH top Dombey but the margin is not as wide as it used to be."
Hi Peter
I've yet to read Bleak House and have never seen it dramatised, so I look forward to that. I want to watch Gillian Anderson in the BBC adaptation when I've read it.
My uncle used to renovate old buildings. One, which he lived in, he named Bleak House. I have memories of that house. I'm curious if his house will fit the book.
Kim wrote: "Tristram wrote: "but apparently I have grown more mature...."You mean old."
I would be old, indeed, if I did not say exactly what I meant ;-)
Hilary wrote: "Tristram, that's a wonderful word: wehmütigI'd love to say that I recall it, but that would be untrue. As you love 'thwart', there are certain German words that have a similar effect on me. If I..."
It's the beauty of language in general that strikes me from time to time. I must say that I really love the English language, for once because it has so many words, and then because the syntax is so mellifluous what with all those participle constructions. German has the advantage of being able to construct new words and thus condense meaning. What I like about Spanish (at least the Argentinean version I know from my wife) is that it has wonderful-sounding words such as "papanatas", which means "idiot", "cucurucho", which means "ice-cream cone", or "salchicha", which means "sausage". They also say "cocodrilo" instead of "Krokodil". Language in itself is quite something to write home about.
Tristram wrote: "then because the syntax is so mellifluous....."Mellifluous, seriously? Is that even English? Ok, I know it's English, I've known it for at least five minutes now that I've looked it up. I've even seen it used in a sentence twice, once by you and the other the sample sentence they gave me, here it is:
"In height, the slim legs, the large turned-in feet, the shrill piercing voice; but almost every one will remember, from Croker's Boswell, Colman's account of the great historian " tapping his snuff-box, smirking and smiling, and rounding his periods " from that mellifluous mouth."
I have no idea what the sentence is about, but at least they used mellifluous in it. :-) Oh, wow here's another one!
"When the snakes heard the mellifluous sounds coming from the flute, they began to crawl back into the basket."
Yes, I agree about language, Tristram. Spanish is very beautiful to listen to; particularly South American Spanish. Others such as Irish can seem harsh on the ear until one gets used to it. I don't know a lot of Irish, but I love to listen to it spoken.
Oh and you are too funny, Kim!! :-}
In Chapter 18, when Florence finds the door to her father's room open a crack and slips in, he is hard -- he looks on her and thinks of his dead son. He asks why she came against his will, then we get this:she came in against his will, and then
She saw he knew why: it was written broadly on his face: and dropped her head upon her hands with one prolonged low cry.
Let him remember it in that room, years to come. It has faded from the air, before he breaks the silence. It may pass as quickly from his brain, as he believes, but it is there. Let him remember it in that room, years to come!
Can we hope that this is foreshadowing of the future when he will indeed remember, and finally learns to appreciate, accept, and reciprocate her love?
Can we hope?
Everyman wrote: "In Chapter 18, when Florence finds the door to her father's room open a crack and slips in, he is hard -- he looks on her and thinks of his dead son. He asks why she came against his will, then we..."I hope so!
Poor Florence, always making herself vulnerable to her father; she reaches out to him in vain desperation. I hope that a new day will dawn.
Everyman wrote: "In Chapter 18, when Florence finds the door to her father's room open a crack and slips in, he is hard -- he looks on her and thinks of his dead son. He asks why she came against his will, then we..."I think the fact that these words "Let him remember ..." are repeated several times in that passage are meant to make us readers aware of this rather awkward intrusion of the narrator, and that therefore Mr. Dombey will definitely have cause to repent his behaviour.
I'm finding these chapters are still a bit of an emotional roller-coater, but there has been some light relief. Dickens is an adept at creating a ludicrous picture to sustain the reader through an emotional scene. Such as that where Florence tells Walter that since little Paul's last words were "Remember Walter", she will always now view him as her brother, and says goodbye to him as he is sent abroad to Barbados for ever. Then to counter the lump in the throat we get Susan Nipper, having, "bitten both her bonnet strings at once, and imparted a great deal of private emotion to the skylight ... now changed the subject by inquiring who took milk and who took sugar, and being enlightened on these points poured out the tea."
Oh I too am loving the toothy "big bad wolf" Mr. Carker. LOL!
And all those prescient waves. You definitely feel that kind of unsteadiness, and have a sense of "waves" when you're seriously ill or delerious. There's so much symbolism with the "crossing the water" idea. With the ringing and the bells too ... tolling the death knell? ... simply superb writing :)
I have to say that my character by far in this novel is Diogenes. (I really liked Grip the raven too, in Barnaby Rudge, and felt so sorry for him when he was incarcerated!) I love that scruffy mutt - he seems to be Florence's only friend,
"Come, then, Di! Dear Di! Make friends with your new mistress. Let us love each other, Di!' said Florence, fondling his shaggy head. And Di, the rough and gruff, as if his hairy hide were pervious to the tear that dropped upon it, and his dog's heart melted as it fell, put his nose up to her face, and swore fidelity.
"Diogenes already loved her for her own, and didn't care how much he showed it. So he made himself vastly ridiculous by performing a variety of uncouth bounces in the ante-chamber, and concluded, when poor Florence was at last asleep, and dreaming of the rosy children opposite, by scratching open her bedroom door: rolling up his bed into a pillow: lying down on the boards, at the full length of his tether, with his head towards her: and looking lazily at her, upside down, out of the tops of his eyes, until from winking and winking he fell asleep himself, and dreamed, with gruff barks, of his enemy."
I know that bit has been quoted already, but what a hero! What a star :)
Jean wrote: "I'm finding these chapters are still a bit of an emotional roller-coater, but there has been some light relief. Dickens is an adept at creating a ludicrous picture to sustain the reader through an ..."You will enjoy watching Carker. Oh to be his dentist! You have a good eye. There will be more symbolism of the waves and Diogenes is truly man's, or, nowadays, a human' s best friend.
And Walter. Gone for now ....
I did wonder whether to put "for ever" in inverted commas ... I can't believe that Dickens invented such a sturdy likeable character, enamoured of our heroine, merely to get rid of him so soon!
Jean wrote: "I did wonder whether to put "for ever" in inverted commas ... I can't believe that Dickens invented such a sturdy likeable character, enamoured of our heroine, merely to get rid of him so soon!"Evidently, Dickens's early plans had an unhappy ending for Walter. Stay tuned ...
I love Everyman's passionate response to this segment, and agree wholeheartedly. :-)Re: John Carker, Tristram asked if it was better to quit the firm and try to open up a new prospect in life. Why didn't he leave? My question is the opposite: why did Dombey show mercy and allow him to stay and not have him arrested? Did toothy James intercede on his behalf? It all smacks of "keep your friends close, but your enemies closer" and makes me wonder what John might have seen or heard, perhaps unwittingly. John reminds me a bit of Nemo in Bleak House. There's a mystery here, yet to be revealed.
Bowing to Dickens, I love the way he wrote Florence's visit to see off Walter - specifically the way he had Susan make herself at home and get tea for everyone. It's wasn't anything critical to the plot or scene, and was inserted in an off-hand sort of way, but it gave the scene a certain tone and depth - really allowing me to put myself there in the room. Dickens is a master at weaving these sorts of activities into the narrative, but it seems so natural as we read it that I wonder if quite often we don't even notice how brilliantly he does it, and how much it adds to our enjoyment.
Along those same lines, I like Phiz's drawing of The Wooden Midshipman on the Look-Out. Little touches like the open window and the butt shot of the man picking up the box give the drawing a sense of action instead of just being a snapshot. Well done!
It's a shame Dickens didn't write an alternative D&S from Dombey's vantage point. I agree with Hilary, that Dombey is not mourning Paul, the child, but his lost dreams of a dynasty. I'd be fascinated to hear this story in his voice. Would we find him more sympathetic?
time goes on, quite callously, even after the death of little Paul, and Dickens starts his new instalment in Chapter 17 with a little bit of comic relief, dwelling on Captain Cuttle's notions of his own sagacity and subtlety, and on his capacity of using his influence with Mr. Dombey to find out whether Walter's going to Barbados is some sort of preferment. Unfortunately, since the Captain deems it inappropriate to talk with Mr. Dombey himself (so shortly after his bereavement), he has an interview with Carker, who lulls him into a false sense of security so that he reveals all his thoughts and hopes to the Toothy One - even this foolish notion of there being some sort of engagement between Walter and Florence. This does not forbode well at all ...
In Chapter 18 we are back in the House of Mourning, where we witness Dombey and Florence in "the trial they had undergone together, but not shared". Each of one them goes through their mourning separately, and when one day Florence ventures to enter her father's rooms in order to share her grief, she is coldly rebuffed, and finds that her father's attitude towards her has hardened.
Chapter 19 is of a melancholy character, as Walter is making his preparations to go abroad. There is a surprise visit at the instrument maker's shop by Florence and Susan, who promise to keep in touch with Solomon (and also, through him, with Walter). Walter notices that Florence tends to see him as a kind of brother, and he is resolved not to forfeit her trust and her affection even if he ... hmm, what exactly?
The name of the ship, The Son and Heir, does not sound too promising for a vessel that is going to bear Walter away, and one might wonder whether Solomon will ever have the opportunity of opening that last bottle of Madeira.
Some ideas for further discussion:
What do you think about Dombey's reasons for showing some new coldness to Florence? What are his reasons?
What would you say of the development of Florence's character?
Any ideas about what Mr. Carker might be up to?
Once again, one might accuse Dickens of utter sentimentality. I'm thinking of the father and his bunch of daughters in the house opposite the Dombey Mansion and of Carker Junior's behaviour. What do you think?
Then, of course, there should always be room for favourite quotations. I, for example, liked this one for its understatement:
"Mr Carker the Manager, standing on the hearth-rug before the empty fireplace, which was ornamented with a castellated sheet of brown paper, looked at the Captain as he came in, with no very special encouragement."
Then I must say that Susan Nipper has a very remarkable way of putting things, e.g. here:
"'[...]He's going to meet that precious Major first, and I must say if I was acquainted with any Major myself (which Heavens forbid), it shouldn't be a blue one!'"
or here:
"'Talk of him being a change, indeed!' observed Miss Nipper to herself with boundless contempt. 'If he's a change, give me a constancy.'"