The Old Curiosity Club discussion
David Copperfield
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DC, Chp. 07-09
Mod
Arriving at home, David finds his mother softly singing as of old, and he soon learns the reason why this is happening: Some weeks ago, his mother had come down with child, and he now has a little half-brother. Now instead of feeling jealous and afraid of being pushed even farther aside, like most children would do in such a situation, David loves his little brother and even takes him on his arm – something that soon stops because Miss Murdstone interferes. Most fortunately, the evening David arrives the Murdstones are visiting some neighbour, and so David, his mother and Peggotty spend a harmonious and happy evening together – it will be the last of that kind, however.
David’s holidays are anything but pleasant because Miss Murdstone does her best in order not to make him feel welcome and at home, e.g. by chalking off the days he still has to remain in The Rookery, and by being herself. David tries to keep out of the Murdstones’ way as much as possible but Murdstone soon puts a stop to this by insisting that David spend his free time in the parlour with them, where he does not dare to move for fear of incurring the wrath of Murdstone and his horrible sister.
Finally, David is allowed to go back to school, and he is actually glad to end his sojourn with the Murdstone’s although his parting glance at his mother shows that it might be the last time he has ever set eyes on her. By the way, the holidays David is spending at his home, or the place that used to be his home in happier days, are the winter holidays, which fully occurred to me in the following chapter: Did you notice that the narrator did not mention a particular thing with one single word, something that is usually the most important thing about winter holidays and that often figures largely in Dickens’s writings? And can you imagine why David would not have dedicated one single sentence to this? I might just as well give you a little hint: One of our mods is thinking about this particular thing every single day of the year.
Mod
”'David Copperfield,’ said Mrs. Creakle, leading me to a sofa, and sitting down beside me. ‘I want to speak to you very particularly. I have something to tell you, my child.’
Mr. Creakle, at whom of course I looked, shook his head without looking at me, and stopped up a sigh with a very large piece of buttered toast.”
Fortunately, it is Mrs. Creakles who breaks the sad news to David, and not that brute of a headmaster. Interestingly, he also seems to be a little bit affected by the sad event, but he dare not meet David’s glance, and – like a true coward – he leaves it to his wife to convey the dreadful information to his pupil. It’s quite a relief that in the face of this calamity at least, David is given some understanding and caring by Mrs. Creakle, without her husband interfering. Then the narrator gives us insight into his feelings, which are very peculiar, for they are a mixture of grief and despair and, simultaneously, of being something special in the eyes of the other boys, who have not experienced such a blow of fate:
”But I remember that this importance was a kind of satisfaction to me, when I walked in the playground that afternoon while the boys were in school. When I saw them glancing at me out of the windows, as they went up to their classes, I felt distinguished, and looked more melancholy, and walked slower. When school was over, and they came out and spoke to me, I felt it rather good in myself not to be proud to any of them, and to take exactly the same notice of them all, as before.”
Ah, human nature is so full of inconsistencies! Dickens also gives us this little bit, probably with a view of whetting our appetites for the next instalment:
”I left Salem House upon the morrow afternoon. I little thought then that I left it, never to return.”
Will the Murdstones not send him back to school in order to save the expenses? If not, will Miss Murdstone teach him herself, or what other torture will they have in store for him?
This time, David is not travelling with Barkis, but he makes the acquaintance of Mr. Omer – who is, among many other things, a funeral furnisher and who prepares the funeral for David’s mother and the little baby, who died one day after his mother –, his daughter Minnie and her lover, Mr. Joram. Mr. Omer, Minnie and Joram seem to be very nice people, but their cheerfulness and, let’s say it, thoughtfulness with which they show it, especially the young lovers, grates with David’s grief and makes him feel even more miserable. And yet, to the boy this may come as a hint cruel hint at the fact that everybody has their own business in life and that what may be a catastrophe to one person may be a matter of course to another person.
Miss Murdstone, once more, takes pride in her businesslike manner even in the face of her sister-in-law’s demise,
”I do not doubt that she had a choice pleasure in exhibiting what she called her self-command, and her firmness, and her strength of mind, and her common sense, and the whole diabolical catalogue of her unamiable qualities, on such an occasion. She was particularly proud of her turn for business; and she showed it now in reducing everything to pen and ink, and being moved by nothing. All the rest of that day, and from morning to night afterwards, she sat at that desk, scratching composedly with a hard pen, speaking in the same imperturbable whisper to everybody; never relaxing a muscle of her face, or softening a tone of her voice, or appearing with an atom of her dress astray.”
but Murdstone seems to be affected with grief, as is shown here:
”Mr. Murdstone took no heed of me when I went into the parlour where he was, but sat by the fireside, weeping silently, and pondering in his elbow-chair.”
Of course, we don’t know if he was grieving over the loss of his son or his wife, or both. However, we have finally witnessed some trace of humanness in him – although we might still consider him a brute, at least I will.
From Peggotty, David also learns the truth, namely that his mother had been feeling she was doomed and losing strength for a long time. This might also explain Peggotty’s not seriously considering leaving her mistress and accepting Barkis’s proposal of marriage. That, and maybe Barkis’s peculiar character … The chapter also closes with a reconciling note, like this:
”From the moment of my knowing of the death of my mother, the idea of her as she had been of late had vanished from me. I remembered her, from that instant, only as the young mother of my earliest impressions, who had been used to wind her bright curls round and round her finger, and to dance with me at twilight in the parlour. What Peggotty had told me now, was so far from bringing me back to the later period, that it rooted the earlier image in my mind. It may be curious, but it is true. In her death she winged her way back to her calm untroubled youth, and cancelled all the rest.
The mother who lay in the grave, was the mother of my infancy; the little creature in her arms, was myself, as I had once been, hushed for ever on her bosom.”
Poor David! What is going to become of him now that it is the Murdstones who are legally responsible for him, with the only friend he has got in the world being a servant that can be given a month’s notice whenever it pleases the Iron Dragon!
Interesting that you honed in on the skeletons, as I did, Tristram. Frankly, I wondered if this passage was Dickens having a go at those literary critics who search for symbolism or foreshadowing or whatever in everything they read: I used at first to wonder what comfort Traddles found in drawing skeletons; and for some time looked upon him as a sort of hermit, who reminded himself by those symbols of mortality that caning couldn't last forever. But I believe he only did it because they were easy, and didn't want any features.
I could imagine Dickens reading commentary on his books and laughing at the pretentiousness of people ascribing significance to silly quirks and habits of characters that actually meant nothing. It's kind of a relief, really, to just take the text at face value. But then the skeletons kept coming up! If they are truly insignificant why continue to mention them? I guess we'll have to keep an eye on Traddles and his doodles as we continue on.
I wondered what Steerforth had on Creakles to get such favoritism. His confidence, good looks, and natural leadership should have been enough for Creakles to want to take him down a notch. Then Dickens threw in the bit about his mother being a wealthy widow. For better or worse, I guess that's what it takes to glide smoothly through life - good looks, confidence, and the reputation of having a large bank account. I still don't know if Steerforth is worthy of making the hair on my neck stand up a bit or if he, like young Martin Chuzzlewit, is just a bit spoiled and thoughtless.
Great observation about Christmas, Tristram! It's not something I noticed, but once you mentioned it, it does seem very unusual. Even if the warm celebrations we've become accustomed to in Pickwick and the Christmas stories didn't fit in with the tenor of David's visit home, you'd think the holiday would still have been acknowledged. Perhaps the argument could be made that Clara and the baby are symbolic of Mary and Jesus, and they'll be shown to somehow be sacrificial lambs as we continue reading. If that's the case, Dickens was almost too subtle about it. And he's not really known for his subtlety, is he?
Chapter 9 was, for me, much sadder than most of Dickens' death scenes that are known for their melodrama. A poor little boy, finally settling in and finding his place at boarding school, excited that it's his birthday, and for the surprises that may be in store, only to get the worst surprise of his life. I missed the "I left it (Salem House), never to return" line, and now wonder what the Murdstone's have in store for poor David. There will, undoubtedly, be struggles ahead.
I was thinking about the discussion of the "reliable narrator" when David recalled Mr. Murdstone crying by the fire. Perhaps we had - to a small degree - misjudged him! Perhaps he really did love Clara and grieve for her!
And then Tristram popped my balloon.
Of course, it was his infant son for whom he was grieving! It's another Paul Dombey all over again, darn it. Suddenly David and Florence seem to have a lot in common. But Florence loved her father. I doubt David will have the same angst about trying to find a place in Murdstone's cold heart. Maybe David will be unceremoniously dumped like Oliver Twist.
Murdstone's silently crying - even if it was about his son and not about his wife - did melt me a little. If he could cry about the death of his child, he at least was not purely mean and cold-hearted. Like his sister, who keeps up the whole iron parade ... although that too is seen through the eyes of a child, and we do not know how she grieves beyond that.
While I gave Steerforth a clear benefit of the doubt before, I really think he was too mean towards Mell. I wonder how David's friends will return in his life, both Steerforth and Traddles. I hope both in a positive way ... And I wonder what David's life will look like from now on. I don't think he'll be locked up in a cheese factory with a cheese monster made of molten cheese and (dead?) children, like in that cartoon I linked ;-)
While I gave Steerforth a clear benefit of the doubt before, I really think he was too mean towards Mell. I wonder how David's friends will return in his life, both Steerforth and Traddles. I hope both in a positive way ... And I wonder what David's life will look like from now on. I don't think he'll be locked up in a cheese factory with a cheese monster made of molten cheese and (dead?) children, like in that cartoon I linked ;-)
In this section, I was most moved by the report from Peggotty regarding the behavior and feelings of Clara during the time that David was absent from her. It shows how genuine her feelings were for David and how she was unable to stand up for him and herself against the strong characters of the Murdstones. Very sad! I'm sure that if she had not taken up with Mr. Murdstone she and David could have had happier and longer lives together. But then we wouldn't really have a Dickens story, would we?
Mod
Mr Mell is a perfect example. While perhaps not a man of exceptional accomplishments, Mell is kind. David recounts that he was “much assisted by Mr Mell, who always had a liking for me that I am grateful to remember.” In chapter five David says “Mr Mell never said much to me, but he was never harsh to me.” After Mell picks David up in London David is hungry and buys some food. Mell takes David to his poor mother’s home where she cooks the food and serves it to David.
What is important and I think telling is how food plays a role in identifying good and bad characters. Peggotty gives David “some paper bags of cakes” as he ventures off to Salem School. Mrs Mell cooks food and serves it to David. These are acts of kindness and generosity. On the other hand, we read how the waiter in Yarmouth takes food and drink from David and Steerforth takes David’s money at Salem House to feed himself and others.
Those who provided or cooked food for David did so out of love or consideration and did not expect any reward. Those who took food or money for food for themselves did so out of greed or self-interest.
David’s naïveté will be interesting to tract as we move through the novel. The relationship between David and Steerforth is growing. It might be interesting to keep an eye on how food may help us further understand their friendship in later chapters.
Peter wrote: "food plays a role in identifying good and bad characters..."Once again, Peter, you've spotted something that's right there for all to see, but that I've somehow missed. Great observation and, as you said, something to be aware of going forward.
But for now I'm feeling a bit peckish, and think I'll go see what's in the pantry...
Very good observations, Peter. Now, I'll try to watch more closely for how food plays a role in the treatment of David.
It's been great reading your insightful comments along with this novel, which I must say has got me completely hooked. I find it hard not to read ahead of schedule. But the fact of taking it slowly has allowed me to absorb so much more from these delicious pages.I don't have much to add to the already abundant commentary to this section. Just a question: any theories as to what Clara died of?
The book doesn't say, of course. It almost seems like she died of being pretty and too light-headed, or of a broken heart.
The way David described Peggotty describing it, my guesstimate is that she died of a lingering illness like TB.
The way David described Peggotty describing it, my guesstimate is that she died of a lingering illness like TB.
As a retired nurse, and a psych nurse at that, I am guessing that she became depressed due to her treatment by the Murdstones and the loss of David. I see her as just being depressed, unhappy, not eating possibly, and just giving up but that's just my opinion.
Do we know what Mary Hogarth died of? That would undoubtedly give us our answer.
Mod
Hi Mary Lou
It is suggested in The Victorian Web that Mary Hogarth died of either heart failure or stroke. She was so young.
Dickens suffered greatly over Mary’s death. I think your premise that Clara Copperfield’s abrupt death at an early age could be based on Dickens’s remembrance of Mary’s death makes sense to me.
Mod
Mr Mell is a perfect examp..."
Peter,
Your observations about the food are very intriguing: Maybe, they can also be applied to other Dickens novels? I remember that Major Bagstock used to choke on the food he stuffed himself with - a sure sign of the man's inconsiderateness and egoism. As to Steerforth's taking away David's money to buy food and drink with, this might be an example of Steerforth's inclination to take advantage of others, but at the same time - someone here has already said it - it also served David by way of integrating him into the boys' society. His status there might have been imperilled by that humiliating sign he had to wear - and this banquet organized by his funds was probably a ticket into the boys' society. If Steerforth acted self-centredly here (as he often does), it had at least positive side effects in this instance.
Mod
It often takes a lot of discipline and will-power not to read ahead, but I have noticed that a slow reading pace often increases the enjoyment. In that way, reading equals eating :-)
As to Clara's death - I wouldn't wonder if she died from depression given her treatment by the Murdstones and her lack of self-assertion. By and by, they managed to tone down her flame of life. I once had a colleague, who loved his work and would spend hours and hours at our school even though he could have gone home for the day. When I made his wife's acquaintance, I realized that one big reason for her husband's love for his work was her character - she would even have put St. George before a mighty challenge. When my colleague retired from work, he lived but for one year or so and then he died. I wouldn't need two guesses at the real cause of his death.
Mod
Bobbie,
I just read your comment after posting my previous and feel happy that you, as a professional, agree with my guess.
Mod
Mr Mell is a..."
Tristram
This novel is offering us much more to discuss, wonder about and debate.
I think the reason is that Dickens is evolving as a novelist. Because the Curiosities have been following his writing career from its beginnings we are able to see and enjoy his progress. D&S and now DC are much richer in texture, and thus we have much more to discuss. And now, with the first person narrator, another layer of possibility and debate is opened up.
Great stuff for us all.
Mod
Mod
The best is yet to come? But we will never get another Little Nell, what could be better than her?
Mod
Yes, and one of the mods was so puzzled by this she thought she must have missed something and read the chapter again. This is so confusing to me. I wasn't expecting David to arrive home to candles in the windows, decortations on a tree, and wrapped gifts beneath it, unless the tree was decorated with keys and chains for garland, but I expected a mention of that holiday. Even at school no one mentioned it. I don't get it. Oh, in case you're interested, it is 132 days, 14 hours, and 48 minutes to Christmas. :-)
Mod
Steerforth and Mr. Mell
Chapter 7
Phiz
Commentary:
Thus far, Phiz has provided us with reflective portraits and satirical studies, but in "Steerforth and Mr. Mell" Phiz offers a scene whose design demonstrates his strong suit: baroque action and multivariant studies of figures caught in uproarious action. The schoolroom scene, recalling the Gordon riots of Barnaby Rudge and anticipating the revolutionary mob scenes of A Tale of Two Cities, overflows with dynamic characters in a physical setting drawn with scrupulous attention to details given in the letterpress. Delighting in the challenge such a scene presents for the graphic artist, Phiz has vigorously captured the precise moment when in the confrontation between the virtuous school master and the haughty adolescent:
I am not clear whether he was going to strike Mr. Mell, or Mr. Mell was going to strike him, or there was any such intention on either side. I saw a rigidity come upon the whole school as if they had been turned into stone, and found Mr. Creakle in the midst of us, with Tungay at his side, and Mrs. and Miss Creakle looking in at the door as if they were frightened. Mr. Mell, with his elbows on his desk and his face in his hands, sat, for some moments, quite still.
In Phiz's continuing the exposition of characters, conflicts, situations, and themes, the initial illustrations (May, June, and July 1849) are especially important in highlighting the roles of certain characters. Having introduced the reader-viewer in the four previous plates to David himself as spectator and victim, to Mrs. Copperfield, Mr. Murdstone, and the Peggottys, Phiz now focuses on the ambivalent figure of James Steerforth, identified in the text as David's "protector" at Salem House, but revealed as an oppositionally defiant snob who uses his influence with the masters and the younger students to deride the kind-hearted Mr. Mell.
The double-voiced narrative captures both the younger David's infatuation with the older boy as his role model and mentor, and the mature narrator's sympathy with the much-put-upon teacher. The incident is important in that, apart from David's naivete as a new boy at the school, it underscores Traddles' role as the voice of reason and moral judgment. Balancing sympathy for the embattled teacher and enjoyment of the boys' exuberance, the illustrator has captured the critical moment when the head master and his one-legged assistant (extreme right) enter the classroom, presumably to restore order. The reader must explore the text to discover whether (as one would expect) they support the dedicated teacher or the arrogant scion of the upper classes. As in Dickens's text, Phiz has positioned David beside Mr. Mell, so that we cannot see David's reaction to the confrontation between two elders whom he admires. In the midst of the hubbub are the pillar-like figures of the master and the senior boy, with Steerforth taking centre stage, and his pivotal importance suggested by the pyramid of fractious boys that rises above him and the caricature of Tungay as a Roman imperator or legion commander (top centre) exemplifying Steerforth's aristocratic arrogance. The physical humour presented by the boys in their rampant misbehaviour in the plate is foiled by the letterpress, tinged with the narrator's regret that at the time he failed to penetrate James Steerforth's attractive veneer to see him in his true colours, not as the heroic champion of justice but as an inveterate snob encouraging the boys to disrespect the teacher who has risen from poverty to the lower levels of the professional classes.
Mod
Chapter 7
Fred Barnard
1872 Household Edition
Text Illustrated:
‘What did he mean by talking about favourites, then?’ said Steerforth at length.
‘Favourites?’ repeated Mr. Creakle, with the veins in his forehead swelling quickly. ‘Who talked about favourites?’
‘He did,’ said Steerforth.
‘And pray, what did you mean by that, sir?’ demanded Mr. Creakle, turning angrily on his assistant.
‘I meant, Mr. Creakle,’ he returned in a low voice, ‘as I said; that no pupil had a right to avail himself of his position of favouritism to degrade me.’
‘To degrade YOU?’ said Mr. Creakle. ‘My stars! But give me leave to ask you, Mr. What’s-your-name’; and here Mr. Creakle folded his arms, cane and all, upon his chest, and made such a knot of his brows that his little eyes were hardly visible below them; ‘whether, when you talk about favourites, you showed proper respect to me? To me, sir,’ said Mr. Creakle, darting his head at him suddenly, and drawing it back again, ‘the principal of this establishment, and your employer.’
‘It was not judicious, sir, I am willing to admit,’ said Mr. Mell. ‘I should not have done so, if I had been cool.’
Here Steerforth struck in.
‘Then he said I was mean, and then he said I was base, and then I called him a beggar. If I had been cool, perhaps I shouldn’t have called him a beggar. But I did, and I am ready to take the consequences of it.’
Without considering, perhaps, whether there were any consequences to be taken, I felt quite in a glow at this gallant speech. It made an impression on the boys too, for there was a low stir among them, though no one spoke a word.
‘I am surprised, Steerforth—although your candour does you honour,’ said Mr. Creakle, ‘does you honour, certainly—I am surprised, Steerforth, I must say, that you should attach such an epithet to any person employed and paid in Salem House, sir.’
Steerforth gave a short laugh.
‘That’s not an answer, sir,’ said Mr. Creakle, ‘to my remark. I expect more than that from you, Steerforth.’
If Mr. Mell looked homely, in my eyes, before the handsome boy, it would be quite impossible to say how homely Mr. Creakle looked. ‘Let him deny it,’ said Steerforth.
‘Deny that he is a beggar, Steerforth?’ cried Mr. Creakle. ‘Why, where does he go a-begging?’
‘If he is not a beggar himself, his near relation’s one,’ said Steerforth. ‘It’s all the same.’
He glanced at me, and Mr. Mell’s hand gently patted me upon the shoulder. I looked up with a flush upon my face and remorse in my heart, but Mr. Mell’s eyes were fixed on Steerforth. He continued to pat me kindly on the shoulder, but he looked at him.
‘Since you expect me, Mr. Creakle, to justify myself,’ said Steerforth, ‘and to say what I mean,—what I have to say is, that his mother lives on charity in an alms-house.’
Mr. Mell still looked at him, and still patted me kindly on the shoulder, and said to himself, in a whisper, if I heard right: ‘Yes, I thought so.’
Mod
"Don't go, Steerforth, if you please. These are two Yarmouth boatmen - very kind, good people"
Chapter 7
Fred Barnard
1872 Household Edition
Text Illustrated:
I am not sure whether it was in the pride of having such a friend as Steerforth, or in the desire to explain to him how I came to have such a friend as Mr. Peggotty, that I called to him as he was going away. But I said, modestly—Good Heaven, how it all comes back to me this long time afterwards—!
‘Don’t go, Steerforth, if you please. These are two Yarmouth boatmen—very kind, good people—who are relations of my nurse, and have come from Gravesend to see me.’
‘Aye, aye?’ said Steerforth, returning. ‘I am glad to see them. How are you both?’
There was an ease in his manner—a gay and light manner it was, but not swaggering—which I still believe to have borne a kind of enchantment with it. I still believe him, in virtue of this carriage, his animal spirits, his delightful voice, his handsome face and figure, and, for aught I know, of some inborn power of attraction besides (which I think a few people possess), to have carried a spell with him to which it was a natural weakness to yield, and which not many persons could withstand. I could not but see how pleased they were with him, and how they seemed to open their hearts to him in a moment.
‘You must let them know at home, if you please, Mr. Peggotty,’ I said, ‘when that letter is sent, that Mr. Steerforth is very kind to me, and that I don’t know what I should ever do here without him.’
‘Nonsense!’ said Steerforth, laughing. ‘You mustn’t tell them anything of the sort.’
‘And if Mr. Steerforth ever comes into Norfolk or Suffolk, Mr. Peggotty,’ I said, ‘while I am there, you may depend upon it I shall bring him to Yarmouth, if he will let me, to see your house. You never saw such a good house, Steerforth. It’s made out of a boat!’
‘Made out of a boat, is it?’ said Steerforth. ‘It’s the right sort of a house for such a thorough-built boatman.’
Mod
Mr. Peggotty took two prodigious lobsters, and an enormous crab, and a large canvas bag of shrimps out of his pockets.
Chapter 7
F.M. B. Blakie
Text Illustrated:
Mr. Peggotty (who never shut his mouth once, I remember, during the visit) showed great concern when he saw me do this, and nudged Ham to say something.
‘Cheer up, Mas’r Davy bor’!’ said Ham, in his simpering way. ‘Why, how you have growed!’
‘Am I grown?’ I said, drying my eyes. I was not crying at anything in particular that I know of; but somehow it made me cry, to see old friends.
‘Growed, Mas’r Davy bor’? Ain’t he growed!’ said Ham.
‘Ain’t he growed!’ said Mr. Peggotty.
They made me laugh again by laughing at each other, and then we all three laughed until I was in danger of crying again.
‘Do you know how mama is, Mr. Peggotty?’ I said. ‘And how my dear, dear, old Peggotty is?’
‘Oncommon,’ said Mr. Peggotty.
‘And little Em’ly, and Mrs. Gummidge?’
‘On—common,’ said Mr. Peggotty.
There was a silence. Mr. Peggotty, to relieve it, took two prodigious lobsters, and an enormous crab, and a large canvas bag of shrimps, out of his pockets, and piled them up in Ham’s arms.
‘You see,’ said Mr. Peggotty, ‘knowing as you was partial to a little relish with your wittles when you was along with us, we took the liberty. The old Mawther biled ‘em, she did. Mrs. Gummidge biled ‘em. Yes,’ said Mr. Peggotty, slowly, who I thought appeared to stick to the subject on account of having no other subject ready, ‘Mrs. Gummidge, I do assure you, she biled ‘em.’
Mod
Changes at home
Chapter 8
Phiz
Commentary:
The second illustration for the third monthly number, containing chapters 7, 8, and 9, reverts to quiet, intensely personal moment, in sharp contrast to the uproarious and dramatic scene that Phiz selected for the subject pf his first illustration in this third instalment. In contrast to his first four appearances, in this sixth monthly plate David is standing; moreover, in contrast to all his previous depictions, here he is an active investigator rather than an entirely passive observer. David remains, however, detached and watchful rather than socially integrated as he stumbles upon his mother breast- feeding David's infant brother. This is the first illustration in which Phiz realizes David as a distinct individual, although he wears precisely the same clothes that he is wearing in "Steerforth and Mr. Mell" and "The Friendly Waiter and I." The domestic moment captured in this sixth monthly illustration is this:
I believed, from the solitary and thoughtful way in which my mother murmured her song, that she was alone. And I went softly into the room. She was sitting by the fire, suckling an infant, whose tiny hand she held against her neck. Her eyes were looking down upon its face, and she sat singing to it.
Phiz has dealt with the subject of breast-feeding in a sensitive and discrete manner, treating David's mother as yet another instance of the mid-Victorian "Angel in the House," presenting her as Dickens had Millie Swidger in The Haunted Man (1848), as an idealized image of tender motherhood, a nineteenth-century Raphael Madonna.
Jane Rabb Cohen interprets the illustration as a variation on the earlier Phiz depicted Florence Dombey in Dombey and Son (1846-48). David, contends Cohen, is similarly cut off from the intimate moment by the chair back and his mother's focus upon the other child. "
His unsettled stance and expression is at odds with his mother's composure, his awkwardness contrasting with the graceful curves of her head, the baby's clothes and draped bassinet, and the oval frames of the pictures behind and above the pair.
Steig's analysis, preceding Cohen's by some two years, focuses on Phiz's use of symbolic details, such as the companion pictures above the fireplace illustrating scenes from the life of the biblical prophet Moses. These are doubly appropriate since Moses is generally credited with having written the first five books of the Old Testament; therefore, his childhood tribulations suggest that his may serve as the prototype for David's early life, his being consigned to the care of strangers, alienated from his family, and becoming an outcast before he attains social recognition as an inspired writer. Steig comments upon such details as "the decorative wings on the clock behind him [which] suggest the rapid passage of time" and the overall composition of the scene:
The space between mother and boy is charged with the tension of an uncompleted action. Mother and infant are centered in such a way as to recall the stock image of Madonna and Child, consistent with the rather heavy religiosity of Dickens' text; they are also watched over by an angel on the fireplace surround, hinting at perhaps both holiness and impending death. But we are brought back to earth by the overturned reticule with its sewing implements spilled out on the floor, a reminder of Clara's acceptance of her Murdstone-assigned role as a flighty child and incompetent housekeeper.
Although critic Q. D. Leavis had proposed that the portrait above Clara Copperfield's head is of herself as a younger woman, Steig notes that the mature woman does not resemble David's mother and is dressed in a pre-nineteenth-century fashion, so that the lady in the oval frame who dominates the upper register may be regarded more safely as a female ancestor, perhaps a great-grandmother:
The portrait's emphasis on the lady's breasts suggests a connection with motherhood, although in the working drawing the breasts are represented only as blind indentations. To the extent that the portrait has anything to do with Clara, there may be some sense in its juxtaposition with prints of the Prodigal Son and Moses in the Bullrushes. But David is a prodigal son only from the standpoint of the, Murdstones, who consider him to be willfully bad; Clara regards him so only to the extent that they have been able to influence her. The print of Moses, on the other hand, suggests both David's being found again, so to speak, by his mother, and his own unexpected discovery of his baby brother.
Certainly the biblical illustrations and the low-relief sculptural groups in the roundels on either side of David's mother which emphasize a triad family grouping (perhaps the "Holy Family" of Mother Mary, Joseph, and the Christ child), as well as the angel supporting the mantelpiece (left), confer, as Steig proposes, religious associations upon the scene quite in keeping with the obvious religiosity of the accompanying text. The overturned sewing box and the spilled contents at Clara Copperfield's feet may do more than imply Clara's incompetence as a housekeeper, or her neglect of domestic responsibilities as she tends to her newborn. They may also be symbolic of David's feelings of neglect, of his mother's narrow focus on her new child to the exclusion of worrying about her first, so total is her absorption with her infant in the narrow world of the Blunderstone Rookery.
David implies a sense of alienation at this point in the letterpress, for when he characterizeses his mother's manner of singing as "solitary" and "thoughtful," he in fact describes himself. Momentarily, the music has acted as an objective correlative, carrying the narrator back to his own infancy. And so, his heart "brimful" of tender emotions stirred to life by his mother's singing, he is "rediscovered" by and reunited with his mother, entering a momentary state of heightened awareness or bliss: "I should have been more fit for Heaven than I ever have been since". But the moment captured, of David's inquisitively following the sound of his mother's music through the door and into the nursery, hardly prepares us for this imminent Joycean epiphany. The effect of the letterpress may well strike the contemporary reader as "mawkish," as Steig asserts; the effect of the illustration is far from such.
Mod
I was in the carrier’s cart when I heard her calling to me.
Chapter 8
F.M.B. Blaikie
Illustration for David Copperfield retold for children by Alice F. Jackson 1920.
Text Illustrated:
Thus the holidays lagged away, until the morning came when Miss Murdstone said: ‘Here’s the last day off!’ and gave me the closing cup of tea of the vacation.
I was not sorry to go. I had lapsed into a stupid state; but I was recovering a little and looking forward to Steerforth, albeit Mr. Creakle loomed behind him. Again Mr. Barkis appeared at the gate, and again Miss Murdstone in her warning voice, said: ‘Clara!’ when my mother bent over me, to bid me farewell.
I kissed her, and my baby brother, and was very sorry then; but not sorry to go away, for the gulf between us was there, and the parting was there, every day. And it is not so much the embrace she gave me, that lives in my mind, though it was as fervent as could be, as what followed the embrace.
I was in the carrier’s cart when I heard her calling to me. I looked out, and she stood at the garden-gate alone, holding her baby up in her arms for me to see. It was cold still weather; and not a hair of her head, nor a fold of her dress, was stirred, as she looked intently at me, holding up her child.
So I lost her. So I saw her afterwards, in my sleep at school—a silent presence near my bed—looking at me with the same intent face—holding up her baby in her arms.
Mod
"Father!" said Minnie, playfully. "What a porpoise you do grow!"
Chapter 9
Fred Barnard
1872 Household Edition
Text Illustrated:
‘Master Copperfield?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Will you come with me, young sir, if you please,’ he said, opening the door, ‘and I shall have the pleasure of taking you home.’
I put my hand in his, wondering who he was, and we walked away to a shop in a narrow street, on which was written OMER, DRAPER, TAILOR, HABERDASHER, FUNERAL FURNISHER, &c. It was a close and stifling little shop; full of all sorts of clothing, made and unmade, including one window full of beaver-hats and bonnets. We went into a little back-parlour behind the shop, where we found three young women at work on a quantity of black materials, which were heaped upon the table, and little bits and cuttings of which were littered all over the floor. There was a good fire in the room, and a breathless smell of warm black crape—I did not know what the smell was then, but I know now.
The three young women, who appeared to be very industrious and comfortable, raised their heads to look at me, and then went on with their work. Stitch, stitch, stitch. At the same time there came from a workshop across a little yard outside the window, a regular sound of hammering that kept a kind of tune: RAT—tat-tat, RAT—tat-tat, RAT—tat-tat, without any variation.
‘Well,’ said my conductor to one of the three young women. ‘How do you get on, Minnie?’
‘We shall be ready by the trying-on time,’ she replied gaily, without looking up. ‘Don’t you be afraid, father.’
Mr. Omer took off his broad-brimmed hat, and sat down and panted. He was so fat that he was obliged to pant some time before he could say:
‘That’s right.’
‘Father!’ said Minnie, playfully. ‘What a porpoise you do grow!’
‘Well, I don’t know how it is, my dear,’ he replied, considering about it. ‘I am rather so.’
‘You are such a comfortable man, you see,’ said Minnie. ‘You take things so easy.’
‘No use taking ‘em otherwise, my dear,’ said Mr. Omer.
‘No, indeed,’ returned his daughter. ‘We are all pretty gay here, thank Heaven! Ain’t we, father?’
‘I hope so, my dear,’ said Mr. Omer. ‘As I have got my breath now, I think I’ll measure this young scholar. Would you walk into the shop, Master Copperfield?’
Mod
Tommy Traddle
I don't know the artist.
Chapter 7
Text Illustrated:
Poor Traddles! In a tight sky-blue suit that made his arms and legs like German sausages, or roly-poly puddings, he was the merriest and most miserable of all the boys. He was always being caned—I think he was caned every day that half-year, except one holiday Monday when he was only ruler’d on both hands—and was always going to write to his uncle about it, and never did. After laying his head on the desk for a little while, he would cheer up, somehow, begin to laugh again, and draw skeletons all over his slate, before his eyes were dry. I used at first to wonder what comfort Traddles found in drawing skeletons; and for some time looked upon him as a sort of hermit, who reminded himself by those symbols of mortality that caning couldn’t last for ever. But I believe he only did it because they were easy, and didn’t want any features.
He was very honourable, Traddles was, and held it as a solemn duty in the boys to stand by one another. He suffered for this on several occasions; and particularly once, when Steerforth laughed in church, and the Beadle thought it was Traddles, and took him out. I see him now, going away in custody, despised by the congregation. He never said who was the real offender, though he smarted for it next day, and was imprisoned so many hours that he came forth with a whole churchyard-full of skeletons swarming all over his Latin Dictionary. But he had his reward. Steerforth said there was nothing of the sneak in Traddles, and we all felt that to be the highest praise. For my part, I could have gone through a good deal (though I was much less brave than Traddles, and nothing like so old) to have won such a recompense.
Mod
Thank you for the great variety of illustrations. You kept the best Illustration to last ... Just Kyding.
I am always greatly interested to see how various illustrators depict the scenes. So many ways of envisioning David and the other characters.
I was especially interested to see how Phiz presented David’s home in “Changes at Home.” So far our discussions have included many comments about David’s mother and the Copperfield - and now - the Murdstone home. In this illustration I see little to suggest any form of poverty. David’s mother’s dress is rich and full and the room has the appearance of a comfortable middle class home. There are numerous pictures on the wall. Through the door on the right side of the illustration over David’s right shoulder we see a massive, stately grandfather clock. A clock of such proportions would not be part of a struggling household.
I am unaware of any record of Dickens’s dislike of this illustration. So, are we as viewers/readers to assume that the Copperfield home prior to David’s father’s death was comfortably middle class, or that the Murdstone’s brought money and comforts into the home? If Murdstone brought money into the marriage that might explain where the money came from to send little David away to school. Perhaps neither. To me the illustration just doesn’t sit comfortably with the letterpress narrative.
What I do see as an essential element to the illustration is the presence of a clock. As David is portrayed entering the room he becomes aware that his role as a child has shifted. His mother now has another child by another man. David is no longer the sole child of the household. The clock marks his time of awareness. Since the novel is told in the first person, time is of special essence. It might be interesting to keep track of references to time in the novel and the recurring images of clocks in the illustrations of Phiz.
Kim wrote: "
Mr. Peggotty took two prodigious lobsters, and an enormous crab, and a large canvas bag of shrimps out of his pockets.
Chapter 7
F.M. B. Blakie
Text Illustrated:
Mr. Peggotty (who never shut ..."
I just saw on google maps that Suffolk is one of the counties that is kind of directly on the other side of the Northsea from The Hague and Scheveningen. This picture reminds me a bit of what fishermen there looked like.
This picture is black and white, but their vests were blue as well.
Mr. Peggotty took two prodigious lobsters, and an enormous crab, and a large canvas bag of shrimps out of his pockets.
Chapter 7
F.M. B. Blakie
Text Illustrated:
Mr. Peggotty (who never shut ..."
I just saw on google maps that Suffolk is one of the counties that is kind of directly on the other side of the Northsea from The Hague and Scheveningen. This picture reminds me a bit of what fishermen there looked like.
This picture is black and white, but their vests were blue as well.
Mod
Mr. Peggotty took two prodigious lobsters, and an enormous crab, and a large canvas bag of shrimps out of his pockets.
Chapter 7
F.M. B. Blakie
Text Illustrated:
Mr. Peggotty (who..."
Thank you for the illustration. It brings the text into a different context and reminds us of the world of Peggotty.
Mod
Peter, I also did not see any indication that Clara needed to marry due to financial reasons. I somehow always had the impression from my first reading of this that Mr. Murdstone may have married her for her home or even for her money. Of course, I read this a very long time ago. Also, as you say, whoever had money or did not, there was certainly not a lot of money spent on David's education.
Mod
Mod
Kim wrote: "Does she have family out there somewhere? A mother, father, brother, sister, aunt, uncle, anyone at all? And wouldn't they have been at least interested in what was going on in her life even if the..."Here you go:
'What, he spoilt you, I suppose?' returned Miss Betsey.
'For being quite alone and dependent on myself in this rough world again, yes, I fear he did indeed,' sobbed my mother.
'Well! Don't cry!' said Miss Betsey. 'You were not equally matched, child - if any two people can be equally matched - and so I asked the question. You were an orphan, weren't you?' 'Yes.'
'And a governess?'
'I was nursery-governess in a family where Mr. Copperfield came to visit. Mr. Copperfield was very kind to me...
I've come to the conclusion that Phiz must have been paid by the number of faces he could cram into a scene. His illustrations are often so busy. They make my head swim. (message 22)Compare that to Barnard's depiction of the same scene (message 23). He still manages to show a large group, but it's not so frenetic, if you will, that we can't easily notice other details, such as Traddles with his slate behind his back. Perhaps Traddles is in the Phiz illustration, too, but I'd have to go over it with a magnifying glass to find him.
And speaking of Traddles, I quite like the anonymous illustration (message 29 - does it say "Williams" vertically, in the lower-left corner?). Kyd (in message 30) gives him some sort of weird shadow or mustache and has him in his long-johns. What's up with that? The unknown illustrator's looks as if it may have been modeled by a real person, and isn't the caricature that Kyd's characters often seem to be.
Mod
To give a complete answer to your last question is quite impossible: The comment section on Goodreads does not offer space enough. ;-)
Mod
Yes, and one of the mods was so puzzled by this she thought she must have missed something an..."
Maybe, David felt so oppressed at home and at school that all those bad memories simply left no room for any vestige of a Christmas memory, which is very sad when you come to think about it.
Mod
This is maybe one of the reasons why I adore Phiz - his richness in detail and in life. I mean, Dickens's books abound in characters and in details, and Phiz is one illustrator to do ample justice to this characteristic.
Mod
If Murdstone did not marry Clara for his money - which I come to doubt, reading some of the insightful comments here -, then this makes him even more sinister and unsettling because it leads me to think that he picked Clara for being an unprotected, timid and easy-to-manipulate person. It seems that Murdstone's object in marrying is not so much to enrich himself, which would be bad enough as a major motive for marrying, but probably to find someone to exert power over. He is becoming more and more of a psychopath in my eyes.
Mary Lou wrote: "Do we know what Mary Hogarth died of? That would undoubtedly give us our answer."Ha!
I agree with everyone who says the book is getting difficult to put down, but I have such a sense of dread over it that I probably would put it down if I were not reading with a group. I no longer have any hope that Steerforth is anything but a monster, and I am not happy that David has introduced him to the Peggottys, and I am especially not happy that we have had scary flash-forwards about both Little Em'ly and Steerforth, and if she turns out to be the sister that Steerforth wished David had, that is not going to be pretty. Is Ham being set up as a suitor for Little Em'ly, whom everyone says is turning into a woman? They're first cousins, right, but that's allowed?
I do hope Mr. Mell comes back. And wreaks vengeance upon Steerforth.
Side note: Dickens is so weird about class. On the one hand he seems to think the class system is genetically/divinely ordained, since there seem to be some people born to serve--plump, red-faced Peggotty--and some people born to be served--delicate, golden-haired Mrs. Copperfield. But then you can tell he wants us to squirm when David makes a point of distinguishing himself to Steerforth as a gentleman superior to Mr. Peggotty and Ham. So what's the deal: some people are indeed superior to others (except in the important things of being kind and having a soul), but it's bad form to notice it? I don't really understand.
Mod
Julie
Good question about Dickens and how he portrays class. It seems to me that generally Dickens is quite happy to have his characters retain their class position throughout a novel. What he wants, ultimately, is for good to prevail, and the characters to remain in their assigned social positions.
That said, from my position as a 21C reader, I struggle with the fact that Dickens was writing about a class structure that existed and the majority of Victorian society was still buying into. Thus, as 21st century reader, I bring a perspective that neither he nor his readers really spent much time thinking about or worrying over.
When I look at the span of his novels from Pickwick to Drood I don’t see a major or radical change in his social perspectives.
Mod
Tristram wrote: "This is maybe one of the reasons why I adore Phiz - his richness in detail and in life. I mean, Dickens's books abound in characters and in details, and Phiz is one illustrator to do ample justice to this characteristic...."OFF TOPIC -
I'm curious, Tristram - do you enjoy graphic novels? I've tried to read a few but find them visually overwhelming It's like having both the radio and the TV on while someone is talking to you. Mental chaos. My brain just shuts down. That's how I feel when I look at Phiz's crowd scenes. Perhaps I'd appreciate the originals more, as they're surely a larger size.
I much prefer Phiz when, like the illustration of David and his mother in message 26, he only has a few subjects to draw my focus.
I don’t know how Mr. Dickens does it, but he has once more drawn me completely into the story, and, what is more, into the world he manages to create. In Chapter 7, there is not an awful lot happening but nevertheless, Salem House begins to arise in front of my eyes as a place I can really imagine, and the characters are becoming more and more vivid. For a start, there is Steerforth, self-confident, proud and definitely also selfish. Just consider how he decides that David should tell him the stories of Peregrine Pickle and the likes because he “’can’t get to sleep very early at night, and [he] generally wake[s] rather early in the morning’” without considering for a moment whether the same is true with regard to David. It’s just that he feels like being entertained, and so without any question David has to comply with his wishes. We also learn that Steerforth’s mother is a rather wealthy widow, which might explain Steerforth’s haughtiness – he might have been pampered quite a lot at home – and also what Mr. Mell calls his position of favoritism at that school. Then there is poor Traddles, of whom David says,
”Poor Traddles! In a tight sky-blue suit that made his arms and legs like German sausages, or roly-poly puddings, he was the merriest and most miserable of all the boys. He was always being caned—I think he was caned every day that half-year, except one holiday Monday when he was only ruler'd on both hands—and was always going to write to his uncle about it, and never did. After laying his head on the desk for a little while, he would cheer up, somehow, begin to laugh again, and draw skeletons all over his slate, before his eyes were dry. I used at first to wonder what comfort Traddles found in drawing skeletons; and for some time looked upon him as a sort of hermit, who reminded himself by those symbols of mortality that caning couldn't last for ever. But I believe he only did it because they were easy, and didn't want any features.”
Traddles is also the only one to criticize Steerforth for the humiliating insults he hurls at Mr. Mell, which shows that he must be a very decent and good-hearted boy.
We also witness the tyranny of Mr. Creakle when he solves the clash between Steerforth and Mr. Mell not by calling to order the student for his mean and outraging behaviour but by dismissing the teacher, who has pointed out the special treatment Steerforth received from Mr. Creakle and who has the audacity of having a mother who lives in an almshouse.
Mr. Creakle is a brutish and despicable fellow, but still the author manages to poke fun at him through a weirdly humorous description like this:
Dickens also proves a keen observer of human nature when he explains to the reader how the system of tyranny established by Mr. Creakle actually works:
”Here I sit at the desk again, watching his eye—humbly watching his eye, as he rules a ciphering-book for another victim whose hands have just been flattened by that identical ruler, and who is trying to wipe the sting out with a pocket-handkerchief. I have plenty to do. I don't watch his eye in idleness, but because I am morbidly attracted to it, in a dread desire to know what he will do next, and whether it will be my turn to suffer, or somebody else's. A lane of small boys beyond me, with the same interest in his eye, watch it too. I think he knows it, though he pretends he don't. He makes dreadful mouths as he rules the ciphering-book; and now he throws his eye sideways down our lane, and we all droop over our books and tremble. A moment afterwards we are again eyeing him. An unhappy culprit, found guilty of imperfect exercise, approaches at his command. The culprit falters excuses, and professes a determination to do better tomorrow. Mr. Creakle cuts a joke before he beats him, and we laugh at it,—miserable little dogs, we laugh, with our visages as white as ashes, and our hearts sinking into our boots.”
I’d say that a good deal of power established by bullies is based on the same foundation of fear and cowardice to this very day. – Dickens also criticizes the effect of fear and bullying with regard to education and moral and intellectual improvement:
”In a school carried on by sheer cruelty, whether it is presided over by a dunce or not, there is not likely to be much learnt. I believe our boys were, generally, as ignorant a set as any schoolboys in existence; they were too much troubled and knocked about to learn; they could no more do that to advantage, than any one can do anything to advantage in a life of constant misfortune, torment, and worry. But my little vanity, and Steerforth's help, urged me on somehow; and without saving me from much, if anything, in the way of punishment, made me, for the time I was there, an exception to the general body, insomuch that I did steadily pick up some crumbs of knowledge.”
It’s in comparison with Mr. Creakle’s school that, in looking back, we might come to the conclusion that Dr. Blimber was not such a bad person after all in that he might have made learning a tiring and unrewarding experience to his disciples by burdening them with too much work, but still he meant well and was not of an evil and mean disposition.