Little Dorrit II: Chapters 23 - 34

[Mark]

I found out that "Bleeding Heart" changed from an idea of Christian compassion to an image of excessive liberalism in the 1930s when a US columnist used it pejoratively.

[Mark]

Elizabeth - yes, right, even the minor characters in Dickens are well drawn.

I get a chuckle whenever the perpetually irritated Mr. F.'s aunt is present to scowl and shout non-sequiturs at Arthur. It's hilarious. She sees that Flora is taken with Arthur, but since Flora was married to her nephew she resents him with great prejudice. And she never gets a name, I think, but Mr. F.'s aunt.

"Bring him for'ard, and I'll chuck him out o' winder!"

[Bionic Jean, "Dickens Duchess"]

Yes, you're right Elizabeth. We did discuss this quite a bit before: there are two full illustrated posts on the legends and history of "Bleeding Heart Yard" in the Second thread. LINK HERE for the exact posts.

The story goes back to 1626. Then I go into how Charles Dickens had an argument with the editor of the famous book of legends.

Thanks for the extra picture, Elizabeth. That looks quite a bit later - is it perhaps a local pub in the area which has taken the name?

Sad that an American journalist distorted the original meaning, Mark. How our modern cynicism seems to love to mock history, and traditional values.

Very nice observations Elizabeth on the various disguises people wear in this novel.

[Sara]

It is sad that we have become such a cynical population, all around the world. I appreciate your thoughts on the disguises, as well, Elizabeth.

One of the things I most admire about Dickens is his ability to create a host of minor characters that play important parts in moving the story, and yet never leave a single one dangling at the end. We know exactly what has happened to each and every character we are presented with.

[Elizabeth A.G.]

Bionic Jean wrote: "Yes, you're right Elizabeth. We did discuss this quite a bit before: there are two full illustrated posts on the legends and history of "Bleeding Heart Yard" in the Second thread. LINK HERE for the..."

Sorry to be repetitive - I remember now that info on The Bleeding Heart was provided before. Yes, the picture is a modern day pub near Bleeding Heart Yard called The Bleeding Heart Tavern - the restaurant section now apparently serves French cuisine!

[Elizabeth A.G.]

Yes, Sara, Dickens does let us know about how all the secondary characters end up and we can see in the end how everyone is connected and played their part in the "big picture."

[Bionic Jean, "Dickens Duchess"]

Elizabeth A.G. wrote: "The Bleeding Heart Tavern - the restaurant section now apparently serves French cuisine!..."

How funny! The blood-red exterior rather belies that. That transformation reminds me of a pub just down the road from me, which in reality is the original "Maypole Inn" at the beginning of Barnaby Rudge, but is now converted to a Thai restaurant! Also "The Six Jolly Fellowship Porters" inn of Our Mutual Friend is still there on the Thames wharf, and proud of its literary heritage. It's much frequented by actors now :)

You weren't repetitive, Elizabeth - and it gave me a chance to root out and link to the info about the Ingoldsby legends again.

How Charles Dickens's readers managed to remember all of this story for a year and a half I can't imagine! I can barely remember it for two or three months.

I too love the tying up of ends, and can't think of any other author who might mention someone minor and largely irrelevant to any other part of the action, such as Mr. Rugg's daughter, way back in the first chapters, and then pick up the threads right at the end! We still have two or three like that to come, as well as more central characters. So let's move on to see whose story reaches a conclusion in today's penultimate chapter :)

[Bionic Jean, "Dickens Duchess"]

Book II: Chapter 33:

Chapter 33 was also entitled “Going!” but it has an exclamation mark this time. It begins:

“The changes of a fevered room are slow and fluctuating; but the changes of the fevered world are rapid and irrevocable.”

We are not looking at the collapse of Merdle’s empire however, but one man with a fever: Arthur. He is still ill and Amy spends part of every day devotedly caring for him. She also spends time trying patiently to comfort Fanny, who is expecting a baby, and as a result:

“further advanced in that disqualified state for going into society which had so much fretted her on the evening of the tortoise-shell knife”.

Amy also helps Tip, who seems to have drunk himself into a state of delerium tremens, and is now:

“a weak, proud, tipsy, young old man, shaking from head to foot, talking as indistinctly as if some of the money he plumed himself upon had got into his mouth and couldn’t be got out, unable to walk alone in any act of his life, and patronising the sister whom he selfishly loved (he always had that negative merit, ill-starred and ill-launched Tip!) because he suffered her to lead him.”

The narrator says that Mrs. Merdle may have grieved for her husband for a little while, but soon paid attention to her mourning cap, and made sure it was flattering, and of the best Parisian lace. Fanny and Mrs. Merdle are constantly at war with one another, whilst Edmund Sparkler tries to keep the peace, by saying they are “both remarkably fine women, and that there was no nonsense about either of them—” at which they both turn on him.

Mrs. General is back in England and “sending a Prune and a Prism by post every other day”, to which she receives increasingly complimentary replies, although nobody happens to want her services at the moment.

Nobody is sure how to treat Mrs. Merdle. Should they sympathise with her, or cut her dead? Mrs. Merdle herself soon decides that the wisest course of action is to be just as angry as being deceived as anyone else, and is soon back in Society.

Everyone has lost their money through Merdle’s scams. Now that the money is gone Fanny and her husband share “the genteel little temple of inconvenience [with] the smell of the day before yesterday’s soup and coach-horses”, keeping to a different floor from Mrs. Merdle. Little Dorrit watches all this, and wonders what will happen to Fanny’s children, those “unborn little victims”.

Amy writes to Mr. Meagles, who is still overseas, to tell him that Arthur is ill, and in the Marshalsea. She confides in him about the box and papers without telling him any specific details. Mr. Meagles, with his banking experience and quick mind, realises the importance of trying to get the original papers back. He says he won’t come back until he has done his best to find them.

Henry Gowan has now decided that it would be better if he didn’t know the Meagles any more. Mr. Meagles has agreed to this, since he can see it is making his daughter unhappy, to see the way her parents are treated by Henry Gowan. As a result, Mr. and Mrs. Meagles are even more generous, now that they only see Pet (Minnie) and their little grandchild. This is satisfactory for Henry Gowan, as he is provided with more money, without having to openly acknowledge it.

Mr. Meagles finds out from his daughter the various towns where Blandois had been, since for a long time he had been their regular companion. He makes a list of the inns and hotels he had stayed at, and goes in search of him. He pays all the unpaid bills, and brings away anything that had been left there for safe keeping. Mr. Meagles is as intolerant as ever of those who do not speak his own language of English, haranguing them and saying that they are “all bosh”. On four occasions the police have to be called in, but it does not affect him much:

“[he] was in the most ignominious manner escorted to steam-boats and public carriages, to be got rid of, talking all the while, like a cheerful and fluent Briton as he was, with Mother under his arm.”

However, the narrator observes that Mr. Meagles is clear, shrewd and persevering. By the time he has worked round to Paris, he believes he is nearing his quarry, as it is more accessible from England. Sure enough, there he finds a letter from Little Dorrit, waiting for him. In it, she says that she had been able to talk to Arthur and he had told her about his trip to Calais, to see Miss Wade, in search of the man they are trying to trace (Blandois).

“‘Oho!’ said Mr Meagles.”

Mr. Meagles too calls at the home of Miss Wade, who is not at all pleased to see him. He tries to be polite, but unknowingly compounds her dislike of him by mentioning that his daughter has had a child by (her own romantic interest) Henry Gowan. Mr. Meagles asks her if Blandois happened to leave anything with her: a box perhaps, or a bundle of papers? It is not only he who would like to know, but also Arthur Clennam, and “other people”.

Mr. Meagles can see how angry she is:

“‘Upon my word,’ she returned, ‘I seem to be a mark for everybody who knew anything of a man I once in my life hired, and paid, and dismissed, to aim their questions at!’”

She goes on to deny knowing anything about a box or any papers, telling him that she knows nothing; they were not left with her. Mr. Meagles asks her to give Tattycoram a kind word from him, realising as she corrects the name:

“I have put my foot in it again … I can’t keep my foot out of it here, it seems. Perhaps, if I had thought twice about it, I might never have given her the jingling name. But, when one means to be good-natured and sportive with young people, one doesn’t think twice.”

He and Mrs. Meagles then leave, and go immediately back to London, to arrive at the Marshalsea prison that evening. John is on duty and tells them that Arthur is slowly getting better, and Maggy, Mrs. Plornish and Mr. Baptist all take turns to look after him. Amy is out, so he shows them to the upstairs room, to wait for her:

“The cramped area of the prison had such an effect on Mrs Meagles that she began to weep, and such an effect on Mr Meagles that he began to gasp for air.”

As they are waiting, the door opens, but instead of being Little Dorrit it is Tattycoram (Harriet).

She is carrying an iron box: the very box, the narrator explains, that Affery had seen in her dream. She is:

“crying half in exultation and half in despair, half in laughter and half in tears”, and appeals to them to take her back.

Tattycoram tells them that this is the box which Mr. Meagles was asking about.




Mr. and Mrs. Meagles and Tattycoram - James Mahoney

She had heard Miss Wade deny having it, and knew that she would “sooner have sunk it in the sea, or burnt it” than give it to him. So Tattycoram took the box with her, crossing on the same boat that they had. She looks full of a “glow and rapture” to be with them again, saying that being with Miss Wade had made her wretched. She tells them Miss Wade worked on her, so that whenever she saw someone kind, the worse fault she found with them:

“I have had Miss Wade before me all this time, as if it was my own self grown ripe—turning everything the wrong way, and twisting all good into evil. I have had her before me all this time, finding no pleasure in anything but keeping me as miserable, suspicious, and tormenting as herself.” And she begs them to talk to their daughter, so she might forgive her too:

“I’ll try very hard. I won’t stop at five-and-twenty, sir, I’ll count five-and-twenty hundred, five-and-twenty thousand!”

Amy arrives and Mr. Meagles produces the box with “pride and joy”. Little Dorrit is full of grateful happiness and joy, relieved that now there is no danger from these papers any more. Her secret is safe, and she need never tell Arthur the whole story.

“That was all passed, all forgiven, all forgotten.”

Mr. Meagles asks if he could see Arthur today, but Little Dorrit thinks not yet. She will go to see how he is. As they watch Little Dorrit through the window, Mr. Meagles gives a gentle word of advice to Tattycoram about duty, using Little Dorrit—the child of the Marshalsea—as an example.

When she returns, Mr. Meagles says that the three of them, including Tattycoram, will stay in an hotel. The next day Mrs. Meagles and Tattycoram will return home, but he will be leaving for abroad again. He can’t stand the thought of Arthur being shut up in prison, and is going to find Daniel Doyce and bring him back home.

The chapter ends with Amy kissing his hand, and when he objects, his cheek. He is saddened to think of his daughter, consoling himself a little:

“You remind me of the days …—but she’s very fond of him, and hides his faults, and thinks that no one sees them—and he certainly is well connected and of a very good family!”

[Bionic Jean, "Dickens Duchess"]

And a little more ...

about the Circumlocution Office:

Mark noted that the "barbaric power" referred to Russia.

Calling a country a barbaric power is hardly flattering, just as it wouldn’t be to call a person a “barbarian”. Charles Dickens wrote a Preface to the first book edition of Little Dorrit, in 1857. He mentions Russia there, and I suggest we read that after the final chapter.

We were told in Book 2 chapter 22:

“This Power, being a barbaric one, had no idea of stowing away a great national object in a Circumlocution Office, as strong wine is hidden from the light in a cellar until its fire and youth are gone, and the labourers who worked in the vineyard and pressed the grapes are dust.”

We have seen that the Circumlocution Office is a place where all innovation, creativity and individualism is effectively stifled, and preferably wiped out. Here Charles Dickens seems to be praising Russia, in contrast.

Little Dorrit was set in 1827. The UK had been at war with Russia between 1807–1812, (although this was mainly naval actions) and was to be at war with them again during the Crimean war, between October 1853 and March 1856. The story of Little Dorrit itself was published as a serial between December 1855 and June 1857—i.e. while the two countries were still at war.

It puzzled me that Charles Dickens should be expressing this approval. His terminology left a bit to be desired, but he still portrayed the Barbaric power as being considerably more energetic and forward-thinking than the British (Government’s) Circumlocution Office.

Perhaps it has more to do with the Great Exhibition at Crystal Palace in May 1851—just a few years earlier. Here England celebrated its grand industrial and social advances, and since it was called the World’s Fair, inventions from other western countries were included as well.

It’s possible that Charles Dickens intended to show that the British government had become more rigid after the 1851 exhibition at Crystal Palace, or how the British political system was very stifling leading up to the Great Exhibition. Or perhaps, after all, the Circumlocution Office was simply meant to represent how government stifled human enterprise. It's not completely clear.

There certainly a grim sort of irony, in that the Circumlocution Office is a government agency which thrives on inaction: "How Not to do it" while the criminal Blandois is a man of action who causes the unassuming Arthur to act. The government, doing nothing to help its citizens, is depicted in contrast to the criminal, who seems to be capable and willing to do anything to succeed.

[Jenny]

Yay we are going to see Dan Doyce again! I don't know why I like him so much, but I really do! I love the way things are being slowely wound up, and it does not feel rushed at all! Of course, this is a very long novel so there has been plenty of time to spin the threads!

[Mark]

Re the Circumlocution Office, it seems even worse than the Court of Chancery in Bleak House to me.

At least Chancery is trying to meet some ends by deciding lawsuits and wills. If it is awful at it, that's due to everyone suing and counter-suing, and hiring more lawyers. But the Tite Barnacles have as their goal: Not. Doing. Anything.

In Taoism there is something called Wu Wei, no-action. It means acting effortlessly, going with the natural flow instead of against it. Like hanging a gate at a slight angle on the hinges so that the gate closes by gravity, no spring needed. That's not the No Action of the CO.

The CO is the incarnation of passive aggression. They avoid doing things in order that others will fail, all the while handing out more forms to be completed, and employing more Barnacles and Stiltstalkings.

Ferdinand said nobody (at the CO) cares about the inventions. But they're somewhat like the patent office if I understand correctly their charge. It's a satire of giant bureaucracies that serve no real interest except to be dysfunctional and wind up hurting the people they are supposed to help with forms that serve only to need more forms. (I can imagine someone trying to navigate the immigration departments in most countries.)

'In our country,' said Alice, still panting a little, 'you'd generally get to somewhere else if you ran very fast for a long time, as we've been doing.' 'A slow sort of country!' said the Queen. 'Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!'

[Robin P]

About audiences following the plot of this book over the time it took to wait for the next installments - I would guess it was a cultural touchstone like modern TV series or reality shows, where people discussed the story with their family and friends. Maybe they even reread the previous segments. It wasn't only Dickens who wrote in installments so I supposed people were used to that. But I don't know. I wonder if there are any letters or diaries surviving from regular readers of Dickens' serialized books?

[Jenny]

Robin, that would be something interesting to read for sure!

[Debra Diggs]

I was glad Tattycoram saw Miss. Wade for what see was and did not want to live that way. Always unhappy, always looking for the bad. Hopefully Tattycoram will take pride in her work and look to Little Dorrit as inspiration (as Mr. Meagles pointed out). At the beginning of this story, I thought Miss. Wade was going to have an entirely different role.

I never liked the Circumlocution Office in this story. Never saw the humor in it.

I am also looking forward to seeing Doyce again.

Robin, I would love to read those letters/diaries too.

[Mark]

Miss Wade. I thought Dickens' take on lesbianism/bisexuality (if that's what it was), was stacked against Miss Wade. Making her a rejected lover from a "normal" relationship and always looking for revenge, and filled with hatred, probably was the most sympathetic he could go. And with the long letter he tries to paint her somewhat sympathetically even though her cynical nature shows through.

It is surprising that she even appears in the story given the period. She isn't a criminal, she's intelligent, self-supporting, and psychologically independent. She is one of the most "individual" people in the book who has her own morality. So I give her credit for that.

[Sara]

I was also glad to see Tatty return to the Meagles and reject the hatred mantra of Miss Wade. I should like to think both Tatty and the Meagles have learned something; she will be happier with the kindnesses she receives, and having lost Pet, perhaps they will be more attentive to Tatty's emotional needs and value her company.

I tend to reject the modern reading of Miss Wade. I do not think there is evidence that she is a lesbian, since she had two serious relationships with men and her aim with Tatty seems very much to twist her into a clone of herself. The old "misery loves company" adage at work. Miss Wade seems to me just a misanthrope who hates everyone because she is unhappy with herself. That does not seem to have a sexual root to me. JMHO--no one stone me.

The idea of the diaries is intriguing. Wouldn't it be wonderful to have a first hand reaction from a reader. I will say that we have Louisa May Alcott's contemporary opinion of the Pickwick Papers and she has the girls in Little Women reading it repeatedly and acting out scenes from it together, so we know it wasn't a read it once and dispose of it reading experience.

[Bionic Jean, "Dickens Duchess"]

More on the Circumlocution Office:

Mark wrote: "Re the Circumlocution Office, it seems even worse than the Court of Chancery in Bleak House to me ..."

Yes it's an even more facetious depiction. The Chancery of Bleak House is a hopeless, bumbling institution which topples under its own weight, whereas the Circumlocution Office has a stated purpose from the start, of - as you nicely put it - passive aggression: "How Not To Do It". Keep the status quo. Don't rock the boat. Whatever you do, don't allow for any new ideas, creativity or useful developments.

I had forgotten that I went into Charles Dickens position on government institutions such as the civil service before, when I read a short book by John Carey about the first films. LINK HERE if you like, for my review of that.

There was apparently public outrage at reports of mismanagement of the Crimean War, which, as noted, was when Charles Dickens began writing his serial. Unemployment was widespread and there were bread riots in the East End of London, with dockers looting bakers’ shops.

Charles Dickens himself took a leading role in the “Administrative Reform Association” giving speeches which attacked the idle aristocracy, the ineffectiveness of parliament, and what he called the “dandy insolence” of the Prime Minister, Palmerston.

His original titling of the novel as “Nobody’s Fault” was heavily ironic: a direct criticism of these prevailing ideas. To say that all the evil events were “Nobody’s Fault”, he felt, was sheer hypocrisy, and in this novel he would lay the blame squarely at one man’s door.

But in fact, as the novel proceeded, Charles Dickens’s view also developed. He was to show that the evil was more widespread, and entangled with the very structure of society - and everyone’s tacit acceptance of it. Coming to the end of the novel, we now see that almost everyone bears some of the blame. John Carey suggests that this may have been the reason why Charles Dickens changed his title partway through his serial:

“Perhaps Dickens came to suspect, it was everyone’s fault - as Amy Dorrit, with her usual wisdom, suggests towards the end of the film.”

John Carey has traced a parallel with Fyodor Dostoyevsky in Charles Dickens’s work, as we have observed before in our discussions here. In fact he considers that Charles Dickens’s invention of the Circumlocution Office, that great symbol of faceless bureaucracy, led directly to:

“Kafka’s official buildings with their hopeless waiting rooms and fearsome interrogators”.

Certainly we know that Franz Kafka read Dickens, but Kafka created a surreal “wilfully malign” horror, and that was not Charles Dickens’s way. Dickens’s stultified creation is peopled with: “monocled nincompoops and ... shifty-eyed whispering clerks”, recognisable even today in England in a stubborn, cheerful obstructiveness, and what we term “red tape”.

Charles Dickens sourly referred to our: “right little, tight little island”. His novel, “Little Dorrit”, is in part “a satire on the nepotism and inefficiency of the Civil Service” as he saw it. It was an expression of his outrage at the conditions at the time.

Incredibly enough, a government report of 1855 had shown that some officials were almost illiterate, and “lucrative posts had gone to mentally handicapped candidates”. Charles Dickens converted this for the entertainment of his readers of the time - and our delight - into the Barnacles and Stiltstalkings, (including by the end, the dunderhead Edmund Sparkler), but what lay beneath was Charles Dickens's savage indignation and fury about what he could see happening in real life.

Perhaps nowadays some readers can detect the underlying sourness Charles Dickens felt, and this dampens the humour. Debra, I don't think you're alone for one minute! But I personally like the absurd in Charles Dickens's writing, and prefer it to the grimness of the Russian writers :)

[Sara]

Terrific background, Jean! Unfortunately, I can see this same system still at work in our own society. People are frequently given important positions and promotions based on connections rather than qualifications. The higher up the ladder you go, the more likely you are to find this true, so no surprise that the Barnacles and Stiltstalkings are at the tippy-top.

Perhaps one of the reasons Dickens still has so much appeal is that he attacks problems in his society that still exist in ours.

[Anne]

Sara wrote: "I was also glad to see Tatty return to the Meagles and reject the hatred mantra of Miss Wade. I should like to think both Tatty and the Meagles have learned something; she will be happier with the ..."

Sara, I won't stone you. I agree with everything you said about Miss Wade.

[Anne]

I agree again with Sara. The Barnacles and Stiltstockings are still in charge of our government. Nothing seems to change, at least in the US.

[Bionic Jean, "Dickens Duchess"]

Miss Wade and Tattycoram:

Mark wrote: "Miss Wade... She isn't a criminal, she's intelligent, self-supporting, and psychologically independent ..."

We do tend to forget this, and only see Miss Wade's embittered, manipulative side. But as we discussed earlier, it is not her observations about people's motives that are warped. It is her response to them. All motives are complex, and partly self-serving: not usually entirely good or entirely bad.

Miss Wade is strong and individual. There are aspects of her which are present in other characters by Charles Dickens, but not completely; she is unique and fascinating. I am rather unhappy about the ending of Tattycoram's story, as she casts Miss Wade in a villainous role. It's not that clear.

Mr. Meagles is no angel himself, with his prejudice against anyone who is not English - much as Charles Dickens attempts to make him endearing.

Miss Wade was attempting to make Harriet think for herself. Harriet's description of her is also a biased one - biased toward her controlling aspect. We do not really know what would happen if she stayed with Miss Wade, but we do know that with the Meagles she is destined to be a servant all her life, to "know her place", and do her duty. And we are expected to know as an unchallenged fact that this is preferable. It's all part and parcel of Victorian hypocrisy. The Meagles' only saving grace to me, is that they are not unkind to her. Otherwise we could have a novel where Tattycoram flees from servitude, is found to be heir to the fortune of an African Prince, thus allowing her to develop her hidden talents and become a best-selling writer, for instance!

Sara and Anne - We all have a right to our opinions :) I like her Miss Wade very much as a character, but not as a person. Mark called her "Cassandra" and she does fulfil that function well.

The critics don't all agree as to Miss Wade's sexual tendencies. I personally believe that she had been attracted to Henry Gowan's audacity, as much as anything. It would be wrong to view her in modern terms, and go into specifics of gender identity, or gynaephilia, but even in Victorian society it was known about lesbianism (except for the Queen, who refused to believe it when it was suggested to pass a law against the practise).

In this novel, Mr. Meagles referred to it obliquely. So Charles Dickens might have been thinking of a "manly woman" perhaps someone whose encounter with the dastardly Henry confirmed her latent lesbian tendencies.

The entire subplot of Tattycoram/Harriet and Miss Wade was missed out of the 6 hour 1987 miniseries, and Professor John Carey postulates that this might be why. It is unclear. I believe it is heavily suggested in the subtext, just as I see indications that Tattycoram's ethnicity is blurred, but probably black, or perhaps Spanish/Italian/French (thinking of a few other characters).

I think Charles Dickens could not be very specific, just as he couldn't refer directly to Fanny's pregnancy, as we all noticed. And that was respectable enough - within a marriage - yet the Victorians would still shroud the condition in euphemisms.

Charles Dickens could never publish something akin to Flaubert’s “Madam Bovary” - his public would not accept it. English writing was dominated by “horrid respectability”. It has been surmised that Dickens would have written Miss Wade as a more obviously lesbian character, were it not for this, and her character is dropped from these two films entirely. Charles Dickens was constrained by Victorian morality regarding his marriage and his relationship with the young actress Ellen Ternan. Furthermore, as John Carey reminds us:

“Polite society regarded him as an upstart; the educated disparaged his writings; well-born authors such as Thackeray sneered at his flashy clothes and wrote him off as ‘not a gentleman’”.

Charles Dickens, for all his fame and popularity, still had to be very careful what he wrote.

[Mark]

I'm no expert on Victorian times but what they thought -- especially a male author thought-- lesbians were I'm sure differs from our modern views.

It could be that Dickens thought they were frustrated heterosexuals. So the fact that Miss Wade is presented as having had several male crushes may not mean that Dickens thinks she's not lesbian.

It does seem pretty clear that she has 0 interest in any male figures as friends.

I'm also glad that Tattycoram returned to the Meagles, and with Pet gone, I'm sure they would be doubly glad to have Tattycoram back. And maybe both sides will behave better.

And I also have some admiration for the character of Miss Wade, whatever her orientation may be. Dickens usually punishes his villains (Flintwinch makes an escape as an exception). I don't think he really punishes Miss Wade. She lost Tattycoram, but she told Tattycoram to leave when she thought that Tattycoram was thinking of leaving. I assume she will miss her, but Miss Wade won't mope in a room.

She's an extremely strong female character in Dickens. She is problematic, damaged.

Remember what Mr Meagles preaches to Tattycoram about Amy: duty. Duty is a great thing for men to preach to women in that society. It's not a bad thing of course but can mean "stay in your place." Shut up and obey.

Without attacking Amy's purity of character, I think that Dickens grants Miss Wade a different virtue: authenticity. I'm glad he didn't have a house collapse on her, or had her commit suicide in a bath, or had Pancks cut her hair and ridicule her.

I also like Doyce a lot, but who wouldn't? :)

[Elizabeth A.G.]

I look at Miss Wade as another person caught up in a type of prison that is of her own making, or perhaps due to her treatment as an orphaned child when she claims she was able to perceive (or twist the meaning of) the hidden thoughts of those with whom she lived - the truth that she was considered with condescension, seen as pitiful and inferior. This truth seems to have hardened and imprisoned her as an adult to the point where she herself states I am self-contained and self-reliant; your opinion is nothing to me, I have no interest in you, care nothing for you, and see and hear you with indifference. This could be considered her psychological prison. From the time we are first introduced to her on the return trip to England from Marseilles, she is described as beautiful, prideful, and intelligent but always stands aloof, withdrawn from the rest and sitting with her back to the others. There is some ambiguity, though, if she remains by herself by choice, or if others wish to avoid her - perhaps they avoid her because they sense her desire to be alone. She is seen as a person of an "unhappy temper."

Miss Wade is entrapped in her resentments toward previous caretakers, employers, friends, & a former fiance because she has consistently misread other people's kind intentions, twisting them as their hidden attempts to express their superiority, condescension and pity for her and their own superiority over her.

She sees in Tattycoram a kindred spirit who needs release from injustice and bondage; but as she stated, "I have no occasion to relate that I succeeded." Tattycoram is not emotionally scarred in the manner that Miss Wade is - Miss Wade's prison is that she is a psychologically disturbed woman with an angry and defiant personality. In Chapter 21 Dickens defines her as a self-tormentor in the papers given to Arthur in order to explain why she hates. Very egocentric. Not normal! I'm not particularly concerned whether or not she is a lesbian - she has far worse problems in my opinion!

[Mark]

Elizabeth - You make good points, all true, can't argue with them.

I think Miss Wade stands out for me because she's so unusual for Dickens. She reminds me a bit of Becky Sharp from Vanity Fair.

Dickens surprises us with the number and kinds of his cast of characters, and Miss Wade is certainly one of the more unusual.

[Martha]

Elizabeth A.G. wrote: "Mark wrote: "I found out that "Bleeding Heart" changed from an idea of Christian compassion to an image of excessive liberalism in the 1930s when a US columnist used it pejoratively."

The American..."

Oh my gosh- I forgot! The term “Bleeding Heart Liberals”! Got it!

[Bionic Jean, "Dickens Duchess"]

Book II: Chapter 34:

The final chapter of Little Dorrit begins with a pastoral idyll; a lovely description of an Autumn day. This is background mood to the present action, of Arthur, the “Marshalsea prisoner”, still weak but now recovered, listening to a voice that reads to him. We know whose that voice must be.

Even the far away ocean comes into the image:

“no longer to be seen lying asleep in the heat, but its thousand sparkling eyes were open, and its whole breadth was in joyful animation, from the cool sand on the beach to the little sails on the horizon, drifting away like autumn-tinted leaves that had drifted from the trees.”

Yet none of this beauty touches the Marshlasea prison, with its:

“fixed, pinched face of poverty and care[s]”.

As Arthur listens, we learn that it is he who imagines such pictures. Even though his own childhood had been so unloving and strict, yet he has:

“memories of an old feeling of such things, and echoes of every merciful and loving whisper that had ever stolen to him in his life.”

Little Dorrit tells Arthur that his time in prison will soon be over. Mr. Doyce’s letters are full of friendship and encouragement, and now that the anger towards Arthur has passed, Mr. Rugg is able to use these letters to soften people’s feelings toward him. She reassures him, saying that everyone now is so considerate, speaking well of him.

Arthur suspects Little Dorrit has been there often, and to his question she timidly says yes, at least twice daily, but she hasn’t always come into the room. Now she tells him that she has some news to tell him, about her “great fortune”. She has been waiting until he was stronger, and Arthur says that he is, and how happy he is for her, but he still will not take half of it when she asks:

“‘Never, dear Little Dorrit!’

As she looked at him silently, there was something in her affectionate face that he did not quite comprehend: something that could have broken into tears in a moment, and yet that was happy and proud.“

Amy goes on to tell him that Fanny has lost her inheritance and only has her husband’s income. Arthur had been afraid of that, he says, because of the connection between her husband and “the defaulter” (Mr. Merdle, his stepfather). Still, he had hoped it wasn’t so much. The Little Dorrit says that her poor brother has also lost his wealth. So how much does Arthur now think her fortune must be?

A suspicion of the truth begins to dawn on Arthur, and Little Dorrit confirms it. She has nothing in the world left, and is as poor as she ever was when she lived at the Marshalsea. Her father had entrusted everything to Mr. Merdle when he came to England, and it has all now gone. Will he now share her “fortune”? She cares nothing for riches or for being a lady.

“I never was rich before, I never was proud before, I never was happy before, I am rich in being taken by you, I am proud in having been resigned by you, I am happy in being with you in this prison … comforting and serving you with all my love and truth…. I would rather pass my life here with you, and go out daily, working for our bread, than I would have the greatest fortune that ever was told, and be the greatest lady that ever was honoured.”

Maggy is overjoyed to see the couple together, and runs downstairs to find someone to tell. Happily, Flora and Mr. F’s aunt have just arrived, so she tells them. A couple of hours later, when Little Dorrit leaves the prison, Flora is there, a little out of sorts, and with red eyes. Her words are even more confused than ever, but Little Dorrit understands her, and they go to a pie shop together with Mr F.’s aunt.

As they eat, Flora talks of “Fancy’s fair dreams”, and Little Dorrit understands well that Flora had hopes for a very different outcome, but is nevertheless happy for them both. She says that Amy is “the best and dearest little thing that ever was”. Little Dorrit is moved and thanks her for her kindness, and Flora gives her a kiss. Flora wants Arthur to know she never deserted him, but has often been coming sitting in the pie shop for many hours “to keep him company over the way without his knowing it”. Flora rambles on about past times, wondering if after all it hadn't been “all nonsense between us”, although now:

“papa undoubtedly is the most aggravating of his sex and not improved since having been cut down by the hand of the Incendiary into something of which I never saw the counterpart in all my life”.

Not knowing the contents of the previous chapter, Little Dorrit cannot rally understand this, but is happy to do as she wishes.

As Flora disappears to pay for their food, Mr. F’s aunt says, seeming to refer to her late nephew:

“Bring him for’ard, and I’ll chuck him out o’ winder!”

and despite Flora’s attempts to calm her, repeats this defiantly many times over. Flora explains that she may have to stay some time, and that Little Dorrit should go. Flora fortifies herself with something to drink from the nearby hotel, and the local children begin to talk about her. A rumour goes round that an old lady had sold herself to the pie-shop to be made up into pies, and was then and there, sitting in the pie-shop window, refusing to move.

It is many hours later—in fact when the pie-shop is closing—before Mr F.’s Aunt is forcibly encouraged into a carriage. She continues to repeat her earlier threat, and directs baleful glances towards the Marshalsea. Now the narrator speculates that she might have Arthur Clennam in mind, when she says “him”, and not her nephew, Mr. F.

The narrator playfully says:

“Little Dorrit never came to the Marshalsea now and went away without seeing him. No, no, no.”

And one happy day, she asks if she may bring someone to see him. It is Mr. Meagles, looking sun-browned and jolly. Arthur is worried about Daniel Doyce, but Mr. Meagles has seen him, and say he has “fallen on his legs”. He is doing very well. Daniel Doyce has been “medalled and ribboned, and starred and crossed”, receiving many honours in other countries, though they must not talk about it here:

“They won’t do over here. In that particular, Britannia is a Britannia in the Manger—won’t give her children such distinctions herself, and won’t allow them to be seen when they are given by other countries.”

Arthur tells Mr. Meagles that he is very happy to hear this news, and Daniel Doyce now enters the room and takes hold of Arthur’s hands. He tells Arthur not to dwell on the past. Everyone makes mistakes, he says, he has done himself. There was an error in Arthur’s calculations, which “affects the whole machine”, and he will learn from the failure. He is sorry that Arthur took it so much to heart. In fact as soon as he had heard about it, he set forth to come home to make things right. It was while he was travelling, that he met Mr. Meagles coming to find him.

The two of them agreed to arrange everything ready for Arthur to resume his old post, as a surprise:

“the business stood in greater want of you than ever it did, and that a new and prosperous career was opened before you and me as partners … there is nothing to detain you here one half-hour longer.”

Arthur is free to leave the Marshalsea. However, on consideration, Daniel Doyce says that he suspects Arthur might want to leave in the morning, instead. Little Dorrit accompanies Daniel Doyce as he leaves. The next morning Arthur is to go straight from the prison to the church, where he and Little Dorrit will be married. Mr. Meagles stays on to tell Arthur that they won’t attend, because it might remind his wife of Pet. It would be best if they stay at the cottage.

In the morning Amy comes in with Maggy, and:

“The poor room was a happy room that morning. Where in the world was there a room so full of quiet joy!”

Maggy, oddly, is lighting a fire. Little Dorrit says she has a strange whim, and asks Arthur to burn a paper she has, without asking what it is. She asks him to say as she does it, “I love you!”. He does as she asks, and the paper burns away.

As they go to the church, Little Dorrit takes her leave of her old friend Young John Chivery, and the registrar who had given her and Maggy protection, when they were out all night, so long ago. And now they are married. Doyce is there with them, also Mr. Pancks, and Flora, Maggy, John Chivery and as many of the turnkeys who could get away.

“Flora … was wonderfully smart, and enjoyed the ceremonies mightily, though in a fluttered way.”

The registrar says:

“Her birth is in what I call the first volume; she lay asleep, on this very floor, with her pretty head on what I call the second volume; and she’s now a-writing her little name as a bride in what I call the third volume.”



'The Third Volume of the Registers' - Phiz

Little Dorrit and her husband walk out of the church, into the Autumn sunshine, and:

“into a modest life of usefulness and happiness … quietly down into the roaring streets, inseparable and blessed; pass[ing] along in sunshine and shade, the noisy and the eager, and the arrogant and the froward and the vain, fretted and chafed, [making] their usual uproar.”



Little Dorrit and Arthur Leaving the Church - James Mahoney

[Bionic Jean, "Dickens Duchess"]

And a little more ...

About the church where Amy Dorrit found refuge with Maggy, overnight, in "Little Dorrit's Party"; where she passed her first register, and her third.

It is the Church of St George the Martyr, in the historic Borough district of Southwark, in South London. Specifically, it is on Borough High Street at the junction with Long Lane, Marshalsea Road, and Tabard Street. Here it is now:



St. George the Martyr Church, Southwark, London

The Church is named after Saint George, and there is a stained glass window depicting him. The figure of St. George, sword in hand, is behind the altar on the left panel of the stained glass window:



Little Dorrit window in St. George the Martyr Church, Southwark, London

The church of St. George the Martyr has strong associations with Charles Dickens, who features it in other novels too. His father John was imprisoned for debt in the Marshalsea prison. The surviving wall of this prison adjoins the north side of the churchyard.

Charles Dickens himself lived nearby, in Lant Street, lodging in a house that belonged to the Vestry Clerk of St. George's Church. This was during the darkest period of his life when, as a young boy, whose father was in prison for debt, he was taken out of school and made to work in the blacking factory. His education, and a better life, must have seemed an impossible dream.

Much later, as we have read, Charles Dickens was to set several scenes of Little Dorrit in and around St. George's Church. There is a small representation of Amy Dorrit in the east window of the church, as part of the window of St. George. If you follow the line of his sword to its point, you will see that his foot is resting on a piece of curled parchment. Directly beneath this parchment there is a much smaller, kneeling figure of a girl, whose hands are clasped in prayer, and whose bonnet is dangling behind her back.

This kneeling girl is Little Dorrit.



Little Dorrit window (close-up) in St. George the Martyr Church, Southwark, London

[Bionic Jean, "Dickens Duchess"]

And yet a little more …

G.K. Chesterton’s views, (and a bit of mine!):

As I mentioned yesterday, Charles Dickens changed the title of this work, from the supremely ironic "Nobody's Fault" when he realised as he wrote the serial, that everyone was at fault in his novel. Amy Dorrit is unique, as she is the only character “unspoiled by Fortune”. The whole of Little Dorrit gives the sense of a far bleaker world than does the parallel novel I mentioned by Anthony Trollope, (view spoiler)[ The Way We Live Now (hide spoiler)], even though there is much worldly wisdom in that book.

I’ve talked quite a bit as we went along, about G.K. Chesterton’s view of the book:

“Little Dorrit stands in Dickens’s life chiefly as a signal of how far he went down the road of realism, of sadness, and of what is called modernity.”

He feels that it is “a string of disconnected adventures”, that the central secret of the Clennam house is “silly”, and that there is a “stagy villain”. This rather subjective evidence leads him to conclude that:

“all this loose, melodramatic quality, only serves to make more obvious and startling the fact that some change has come over the soul of Dickens … something must somehow have happened to Dickens himself. Even in resuming his old liberty, he cannot resume his old hilarity. He can re-create the anarchy, but not the revelry.”

G.K. Chesterton compares the character of Wilkins Micawber with William Dorrit, because they are both in part incarnations of Charles Dickens’s own father. Much of the parts about Mr. Dorrit was actually recalled and written from Charles Dickens's own memories of his father's life, as a prisoner in a debtors’ prison:

“Mr. Micawber is one picture of him. Mr. Dorrit is another. This truth is almost incredible, but it is the truth. The joyful Micawber, whose very despair was exultant, and the desolate Dorrit, whose very pride was pitiful, were the same man. The valiant Micawber and the nervous, shaking Dorrit were the same man. The defiant Micawber and the snobbish, essentially obsequious Dorrit were the same man.”

This too suggests to G.K. Chesterton that “Dickens drew the gay moral in 1849, and the sad moral in 1857”. And he is convinced that during the year and a half when he wrote Little Dorrit, Charles Dickens experienced:

“actual melancholia … There must have existed on this earth at the time that portent and paradox—a somewhat depressed Dickens”.

G.K. Chesterton says that Charles Dickens was still quite a young man; that his depression did not come from age. It’s not surprising that he goes on to justify his theory from a religious point of view, given that he was himself a lay priest:

“A horrible thing has happened to Dickens; he has almost become an Evolutionist. Worse still, in studying the Calvinism of Mrs. Clennam’s house, he has almost become a Calvinist. He half believes … that there is really such a thing as “a child of wrath,” that a man on whom such an early shadow had fallen could never shake it off. For ancient Calvinism and modern Evolutionism are essentially the same things. They are both ingenious logical blasphemies against the dignity and liberty of the human soul.”

Depression, he believed resulted from:

“disease, bodily or mental, or there has been sin, or there has been some struggle or effort, breaking past the ordinary boundaries of human custom.

In the case of Dickens there had been two things that are not of the routine of a wholesome human life; there had been the quarrel with his wife, and there had been the strain of incessant and exaggerated intellectual labour. He had not an easy time; and on top of that (or perhaps rather at the bottom of it) he had not an easy nature …

When the two are combined, as they were in Dickens, you are very likely to have at least one collapse. Little Dorrit is a very interesting, sincere, and fascinating book. But for all that, I fancy it is the one collapse …

There is no denying that this is Dickens’s dark moment.”

There are many more examples in G.K. Chesterton’s essay, Appreciations and Criticisms of the Works of Charles Dickens. Here's the comparison between David Copperfield and Arthur Clennam, that I talked of before LINK HERE.

Now we have completed our reading, it is worth looking at. He goes on to give another Christian parallel, by saying that in Charles Dickens's next novel, A Tale of Two Cities through the character of Sydney Carton: “On the third day he rose again from the dead.”

I’ve tried to give you a taste of G.K. Chesterton’s essay, because it represents the opposite view to my own!

[Bionic Jean, "Dickens Duchess"]

And finally ...

Dickens’ own views, and his Preface, (and my thank you!):

It has been clear at various stages of this novel, that we have various different interpretations of the characters’ motives, behaviour and moral compass. We would have similar slight differences of opinion about real people whom we know.

So for me this is proof, that Charles Dickens's characters are authentic reflections of real life, not of a specific world view. Some who read Charles Dickens just for the story, might say his characters lack depth, or that they do not change: they have no “journey”. But if that were true, we would not be able to have so many discussions about them! Even Blandois, who seems the most shallow in terms of being a pantomime villain would raise quite a few questions in an in-depth character study. Charles Dickens has this remarkable skill of creating larger than life characters, who are nevertheless complex and carefully nuanced.

In his Preface to the 1857 edition, Charles Dickens refers to so “exaggerated a fiction as the Barnacles and the Circumlocution Office … that violence to good manners, in the days of a Russian war”, and in relation to Mr. Merdle, “a Court of Inquiry at Chelsea … after the Railroad-share epoch, in the times of a certain Irish bank”. (See my posts on the Circumlocution office, and Charles Dickens’s view of the mishandling of the government and the Crimean war, and also my post on John Sadleir).

These parallels are so evident, that Charles Dickens wanted to draw attention to them. However, when he went on to describe the Marshalsea prison, he did not mention his father’s experience as the inspiration. Instead he went on to talk about going on a walk to find the ruins, and an anecdote about a little boy. He still hid his secret shame.

I believe that Charles Dickens does still, even in this 11th novel, reveal more about himself than he intended to. It’s a persuasive proselytising novel in that it has obvious targets. Yet it is still very much a Victorian novel. Duty and family life are seen as the highest goals. He is aware of psychological conditions and social issues, but not as issues of race, or aspects of gender. These are modern interpretations, and beyond his remit. Charles Dickens also has a heavy Christian component in this novel, which can be quite difficult for non-Christians to relate to.

G.K. Chesterton may view this as a bleak pessimistic novel—the worst of Charles Dickens's novels—and yet I don’t. The end message is one of great hope. And the irrepressible humour is there—as it is in every single piece of writing I have ever read by Charles Dickens.

In the main, the characters in Little Dorrit are rewarded or not, according to their lights. The deaths are mostly well-deserved, whether self inflicted or “Acts of God”. Self-seeking pretenders such as Fanny or Mrs. Merdle end up a prison of their own making, destined to be dissatisfied all their lives, continually carping at one another. Those who work hard, such as Daniel Doyce, Arthur Clennam, Amy Dorrit or the Plornishes, are amply rewarded. Even someone who is rigidly uncompromising, and commits cruel acts as a result, eventually because of her sorrow and repentance rises like a Phoenix from the ashes of what could have destroyed her. Charles Dickens’s descriptions of angelic or Christ-like figures, to me (a non-religious person), are simply good, and the judgements passed—to both good and bad—are sound. The ethics can apply to all. Little Dorrit has an astoundingly broad compass, and is a sheer joy to read.

Thank you all for sharing your reactions and thoughts during each chapter, and making this such a fantastic reading experience!

[Elizabeth A.G.]

Bionic Jean wrote: " Miss Wade and Tattycoram: ...Tattycoram's story, as she casts Miss Wade in a villainous role. It's not that clear.

I look at how Dickens portrays Miss Wade from the time she is introduced and feel it is Dickens himself that portrays her as a dislikable, villainous person. Before we hear any of the other characters' opinions of her or listen to her voice, the reader is set up to dislike her through Dickens's descriptions of her demeanor and attitude. When we finally hear her voice she lives up to Dickens's description of her. Even when Miss Wade seems sympathetic toward Tattycoram, there is something about Dickens's description that makes her look calculating and scheming even before she takes any actions regarding Tattycoram. Dickens has the reader judging and condemning her before she speaks or acts. Likewise, the narrator's (Dickens's) descriptions of her seedy, dilapidated, deathly, "funereal" neighborhood and house when Arthurs seeks Miss Wade do nothing to ameliorate the readers feelings and antipathy toward her. We see her in action once again when she understands Tattycoram will be leaving her and twists Tattycoram's words as the words of an ingrate.

It is not only Tattycoram who casts Miss Wade as a villain, but all Dickens's descriptions from the beginning before she speaks or acts and then has her speak and act as he had suggested cast and prejudge her as a villain in the minds of the readers - even though she lives up to his descriptions through her own words and actions.

[Martha]

Thank you, Jean, for inviting me into this Dickensians group! I enjoyed reading all your notes regarding “Little Dorrit”- all were very helpful! That is quite a bit of work you put into this! But, I can tell it IS your passion!

[Mark]

Thanks to Jean and the group for all the discussions, clarifications and background/illustrations.

Reading as a group kept me going. Even when I lost track in the middle of it due to work, I wanted to catch up as soon as I could.

My first read of Little Dorrit was a solo one years ago and I didn't get as much out of the novel as I did this time.

[Elizabeth A.G.]

Thank you, Jean, for all the effort you have put into this reading of Little Dorrit. Your summaries, comments, and illustrations are wonderful and greatly appreciated. I've come to a greater appreciation of Dickens as well! You are the Greatest!

[Bionic Jean, "Dickens Duchess"]

Thank you so much Martha, Mark and Elizabeth :) It is lovely to have you along.

Elizabeth - "it is Dickens himself that portrays her as a dislikable, villainous person"

Yes, I agree! He does! I'm not disputing that. It's a part of Charles Dickens's Victorian views. In post 180 I said that I believed he was not aware that he revealed some of his views, although some are intentional: skilful writing of a socially "persuasive" novel. We are all products of our time.

When I said I didn't like the end of Harriet's story, and that I didn't like Miss Wade being cast in the role of a villain by Harriet, that was my interpretation of her character and Harriet's response. I was assessing Miss Wade's psychological profile as if she were a real person, and Harriet's view of her, which was also in character but perhaps a little too ... pat.

What harm, exactly, has Miss Wade done? She's not on par with any other "villains". She gave Harriet a free choice; she did not kidnap her! In fact had it not been for her, Harriet would not have been able to make a choice about her future; of who to live with, and on what terms. As Mark said, Miss Wade does not try to make her stay. She represents the Meagles in one way, (which we are encouraged to think is distorted) and they in another.

Mr. Meagles refers to her "perverted delight in making a sister-woman as wretched as she is (I am old enough to have heard of such), I warn her against you, and I warn you against yourself." Hence the Meagles' are just as judgemental in their own way. But the Meagles do not want Harriet to think for herself.

The only harm Miss Wade does by her behaviour is to herself, (apart from concealing the box!) and she knows this and accepts it. It is her sacrifice, for what she sees as her independence.

We all have different takes on individuals' characters, as I tried to say in my summing up at the beginning of post 180 (which you may not have read, as you are responding to a post from yesterday.) That was my response to Miss Wade. Have you never felt sorry for a character, whom the author describes as unlikeable? Or heartily dislike a character who is supposed to be sweet and good?

I try to distinguish between Charles Dickens's views as he presents them, and my own. I'm sorry if I somehow misled you there! I certainly do have my own views, and think sometimes they come out, just as yours may have done (I'm not sure!) when you said "I'm not particularly concerned whether or not she is a lesbian - she has far worse problems in my opinion!"

I'm trying to think whether Charles Dickens wrote a positive portrait about anyone who was differently gendered, but he had to be so circumspect that it is hard to say!

"The History of a Self-Tormentor" is a masterpiece. Do we believe this? Is she a reliable narrator? These are not Charles Dickens's own views; the account is intended as a believable epistle, just as Esther Summerson's journal is in Bleak House—and Amy Dorrit's two letters are here. But they tell us so much more about the character who wrote them. Miss Wade is particularly conscious of herself; she knows herself very well.

I quite like the idea that even though Charles Dickens attempted to portray a believable character of whom he disapproved, from today's viewpoint, there are many judgements of her, some condemnatory, and some not. You may not like anything about her, but she is certainly complex!

Oh, and in case it's still not clear—these are my personal views—which anyone is more than welcome to disagree with :)

[Anne]

Jean, I want to add my thanks for all the hard work you put in to this group read. I enjoyed every one of our 70 days discussing and learning from you and the rest of the group.

I also want to thank you for today's information which is really interesting as well as the pictures of the church window. Amazing that the church is there and a part of the window is dedicated to Little Dorrit.

[Debra Diggs]

I liked the warm hearted feeling of hope at the end. Also, liked the idea that money cannot buy happiness.

Jean, thanks for all the great summaries and extra information.

[Robin P]

Yes, thank you for everything, Jean, and I love the church window!

[Sara]

I very much lean toward your view of the novel rather than Chesterton's, Jean. The first time I read the book, it was a straight-through read, which took me twelve days. At the end of that read, although loving the story and the language and skills of Dickens, I tended to think Amy was too good, Blandois too much of a caricature, Arthur too clueless. At the end of this in-depth, slow read, I see them all very differently, much more complex and intricate; Amy is not too good, she is just good, which isn't always an easy choice for her; Arthur isn't clueless, he is under the influence of his rearing and the unfortunate circumstances of his life. Okay, Blandois is still a little too pat a villain, but who cares?

I concentrated far too much on the politics of the Circumlocution Office and the dishonesty of Mr. Merdle, and while that is an important aspect of the novel, it dwarfed many of the other threads for me. Discussing each chapter as we read and dissecting the characters carefully, having the benefit of all the marvelous background information and the thoughts of so many astute readers, added a new dimension to everything.

I gleaned so much from this opportunity to read with this amazing group of people. Jean, I cannot begin to express how much I appreciate the time and effort you dedicate to these reads or convey to you how much it adds to both the joy and the understanding of Dickens, the person and the writer. From the careful summaries you prepare to the gathered illustrations, to the perceptive commentary, you give us something very special and irreplaceable. So, thank you so much...and get some rest, we have another read coming. :)

[Bionic Jean, "Dickens Duchess"]

Thank you Anne, it's been such a joy :) I'm really pleased so many have participated, and look forward to yet more coming in when they reach the end. (Or now that we have done, if they shot ahead!)

Isn't it amazing about the window? A neat sort of ending to the story.

[Anne]

Bionic Jean wrote: "Thank you Anne, it's been such a joy :)

It is is amazing about the window; a neat sort of ending to the story."

I absolutely loved that ending, with the cherry, so to speak of the third book. Just spectacular. I didn't cry but almost.

[Debra Diggs]

A bit off topic. Has any one actually eaten kidney pie? It sounds awful.

[Bionic Jean, "Dickens Duchess"]

Debra - Yes you've picked out such a great theme. We are told in this novel that wealth is no guarantee of happiness. Several characters such as Mr. Merdle, Mrs. Clennam, and Mr. Dorrit, have all been imprisoned in various ways by their wealth, or their desire for more wealth. I wonder whether the Barnacles' desire for political success and power, will make them happy. I really like the fact that some of the truest, most caring people, were sometimes the ones who had fallen on hard times. This is when you see someone's worth.

I too really liked Daniel Doyce, Jenny. And Maggy :)

Robin - You're right I'm sure about the reinforcement people would have had, talking about the installment nonstop until the next one came out! And Charles Dickens did so many public readings and actings out, for those who could not read. I'm not sure if there are any diaries of audience members extant, and would love to know, but we do have newspaper reviews of Charles Dickens's readings and performances.

Thank you too, and Sara. Talk about wanting to cry - so do I! (Don't mention Young John Chivery to me!) There's a feeling of loss, when all the characters go away at the end of a novel, and even more when it's been such a great discussion with friends. Thank you for your lovely words, and your description of how and why Little Dorrit has changed in your estimation.

I am delighted that several have discovered a rekindled desire to read more Charles Dickens, and also that a couple of you have decided that Little Dorrit is not as flat as you had thought it before :)

This thread will keep going for a bit, but just a heads-up that I'll post a Nominations thread tomorrow, and hope to see you all for our December read of A Christmas Carol!

[Jenny]

The one thing that disappointed me about the ending was that we never did find out what Doyce's invention was! Other than that, I love how upbeat of an ending Charles Dickens made! I agree with Anne as well, thanks so much for the hard work Jean! I'm very excited to read another novel with this group!

[Kathleen]

Jean, I join with others to offer my strong thank you for bring a superlative guide through our journey with Dickens and
Little Dorrit. I now have a much greater appreciation of the marvelous and complex novel.

I look forward to more discussions with this great group.

[Katy]

I also want to thank you Jean, and my fellow readers too. I got so much more out of this book than I would have if I'd read it on my own.

[Elizabeth A.G.]

Jean - I was not misled by you, Jean and think I didn't make myself clear. My point was that in other books, the reader is shown the actual actions and words directly from a character from which the reader can decide that a character is "good" or "bad" or in Miss Wade's case psychologically warped. Here, before we know Miss Wade through her own acts, she is judged. This is not really unusual, as we tend to judge people all the time by appearances, and that first impression is difficult to dismiss until one gets to interact with them and discover their true nature. I tend to believe the papers Miss Wade gives to Arthur. For someone who seems to know herself well, Miss Wade has become warped in her thinking that all good intentions from others are secretly demonstrations of their pity of her and their superiority over her. She has built a wall that does indeed harm only her but is unjust to others' good motives.

My comment about lesbianism not being the worst of her problems had no other intent than to divert or move along the discussion from a disputable and unprovable idea that Miss Wade is a lesbian. She may or may not be - but I think the psychological prison she has made for herself is more significant.

[Connie]

I liked the spirit of forgiveness at the end. Daniel Doyce has forgiven Arthur and made him feel like a valuable person. Amy has forgiven Mrs Clennam, and is unconcerned about money. Nothing seems to matter to Arthur and Amy now except their love, and starting a marriage together.

[Connie]

The glass artist that pictured Little Dorrit in the church window fashioned her bonnet so it would look like angel wings from a distance. It seems like a perfect portrayal since she was such a good, loving person.

[Connie]

Thank you, Jean. It was such a pleasure to read "Little Dorrit" with you and the group, and benefit from all your knowledge.

[Terris]

Thank you, Jean, for all that you did! Your summaries and discussions were amazing! I really enjoyed reading it with the group. I might have read this on my own at some point, but reading it together and following along with all the comments made it much more fun and meaningful! Thanks again!! :)