The Old Curiosity Club discussion
Our Mutual Friend
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OMF, Book 2, Chp. 01-03
Mod
"The person of the house, doll’s dressmaker and manufacturer of ornamental pincushions and pen-wipers, sat in her quaint little low arm-chair, singing in the dark, until Lizzie came back. The person of the house had attained that dignity while yet of very tender years indeed, through being the only trustworthy person in the house."
This evening, while Lizzie and Jenny sit talking, Mr.Eugene Wrayburn comes to visit. It seems Eugene must be a rather frequent visitor, for we are told that Eugene was "as easy as ever". And both ladies seem to know him well. Eugene is there (he says) because he promised that an eye should be kept on Mr Riderhood and Eugene occasionally comes to give them his assurance that he has kept his promise. I'm pretty sure that isn't the only reason he is there, but I guess it is working for him. It seems that he has already offered to have someone, a lady, to come there a few nights in a week to give Lizzie instruction, reading, writing, that kind of thing, the same thing Mr. Headstone is now also working on. So far she hasn't agreed to his plan, but this night he convinces her to do it. And what do we think of Lizzie's feelings here?
"It chanced to be a subtle string to sound, in her who had so spoken to her brother within the hour. It sounded far more forcibly, because of the change in the speaker for the moment; the passing appearance of earnestness, complete conviction, injured resentment of suspicion, generous and unselfish interest. All these qualities, in him usually so light and careless, she felt to be inseparable from some touch of their opposites in her own breast. She thought, had she, so far below him and so different, rejected this disinterestedness, because of some vain misgiving that he sought her out, or heeded any personal attractions that he might descry in her? The poor girl, pure of heart and purpose, could not bear to think it. Sinking before her own eyes, as she suspected herself of it, she drooped her head as though she had done him some wicked and grievous injury, and broke into silent tears.
‘Don’t be distressed,� said Eugene, very, very kindly. ‘I hope it is not I who have distressed you. I meant no more than to put the matter in its true light before you; though I acknowledge I did it selfishly enough, for I am disappointed.�
Disappointed of doing her a service. How else could he be disappointed?"
Yes, he is disappointed, he tells them, but it won't break his heart. He had set his mind to do this for both of them, and her refusing him is disappointing. He goes on to say:
‘It opened out so naturally before me,� said Eugene. ‘The ball seemed so thrown into my hands by accident! I happen to be originally brought into contact with you, Lizzie, on those two occasions that you know of. I happen to be able to promise you that a watch shall be kept upon that false accuser, Riderhood. I happen to be able to give you some little consolation in the darkest hour of your distress, by assuring you that I don’t believe him. On the same occasion I tell you that I am the idlest and least of lawyers, but that I am better than none, in a case I have noted down with my own hand, and that you may be always sure of my best help, and incidentally of Lightwood’s too, in your efforts to clear your father. So, it gradually takes my fancy that I may help you—so easily!—to clear your father of that other blame which I mentioned a few minutes ago, and which is a just and real one. I hope I have explained myself; for I am heartily sorry to have distressed you. I hate to claim to mean well, but I really did mean honestly and simply well, and I want you to know it.�
And now she does accept his offer to the delight of Miss Jenny, who cries out "Yes", as soon as Lizzie agreed. Soon after this Miss Jenny gives Eugene a hint that he should be going. She tells him it is Saturday night and her "child" is coming home, her child is troublesome, bad, and costs her a world of scolding. She would rather Eugene didn't meet the child. This speech confuses Eugene until Lizzie whispers "her father", and he then takes his leave. As he walks down the street a man stumbles against him and Eugene watches him enter the house of Miss Jenny. Her father. On his entering the room Miss Jenny tells him to go sit in "his corner", telling him he is a bad old boy and a wicked creature. As for the father:
"The shaking figure, unnerved and disjointed from head to foot, put out its two hands a little way, as making overtures of peace and reconciliation. Abject tears stood in its eyes, and stained the blotched red of its cheeks. The swollen lead-coloured under lip trembled with a shameful whine. The whole indecorous threadbare ruin, from the broken shoes to the prematurely-grey scanty hair, grovelled. Not with any sense worthy to be called a sense, of this dire reversal of the places of parent and child, but in a pitiful expostulation to be let off from a scolding.
‘I know your tricks and your manners,� cried Miss Wren. ‘I know where you’ve been to!� (which indeed it did not require discernment to discover). ‘Oh, you disgraceful old chap!�
The very breathing of the figure was contemptible, as it laboured and rattled in that operation, like a blundering clock."
Jenny demands him to give over the money he has left, from his being paid for work I imagine, but most of it he had spent getting himself into the condition he was in at the moment. Getting all the remaining money from in she orders him to bed. We end with Lizzie joining Jenny again and sitting down for supper during which time Jenny tells Lizzie that she should poor boiling liquid down his throat, or some such thing, and Lizzie replies that she knows she would want to do no such thing.
�I am sure you would do no such horrible thing,� said Lizzie.
‘Shouldn’t I? Well; perhaps I shouldn’t. But I should like to!�
‘I am equally sure you would not.�
‘Not even like to? Well, you generally know best. Only you haven’t always lived among it as I have lived—and your back isn’t bad and your legs are not queer.�
As they went on with their supper, Lizzie tried to bring her round to that prettier and better state. But, the charm was broken. The person of the house was the person of a house full of sordid shames and cares, with an upper room in which that abased figure was infecting even innocent sleep with sensual brutality and degradation. The doll’s dressmaker had become a little quaint shrew; of the world, worldly; of the earth, earthy.
Poor doll’s dressmaker! How often so dragged down by hands that should have raised her up; how often so misdirected when losing her way on the eternal road, and asking guidance! Poor, poor little doll’s dressmaker!"
Mod
"At the club he promptly secures a large window, writing materials, and all the newspapers, and establishes himself; immoveable, to be respectfully contemplated by Pall Mall. Sometimes, when a man enters who nods to him, Twemlow says, ‘Do you know Veneering?� Man says, ‘No; member of the club?� Twemlow says, ‘Yes. Coming in for Pocket-Breaches.� Man says, ‘Ah! Hope he may find it worth the money!� yawns, and saunters out. Towards six o’clock of the afternoon, Twemlow begins to persuade himself that he is positively jaded with work, and thinks it much to be regretted that he was not brought up as a Parliamentary agent."
One more thought on Twemlow, when Vaneering comes to see him he has just returned from having his hair done, well, like this:
"There, he finds Twemlow in his lodgings, fresh from the hands of a secret artist who has been doing something to his hair with yolks of eggs. The process requiring that Twemlow shall, for two hours after the application, allow his hair to stick upright and dry gradually, he is in an appropriate state for the receipt of startling intelligence; looking equally like the Monument on Fish Street Hill, and King Priam on a certain incendiary occasion not wholly unknown as a neat point from the classics."
If I remember when I'm done with this and getting illustrations I'm going in search of why you would put eggs in your hair. Next Veneering is off to Mr. Podsnap who also agrees to work for him, and goes off to mix with "influential people" saying he will meet with Veneering again at eight for dinner where they will report progress and make notes. He also suggests that they find a couple of active energetic fellows, of gentlemanly manners, to go about.� They agree Boots and Brewer would be perfect for this job, and when asked they also rally round him and at once bolt off in cabs in opposite directions. Mr. Veneering now is off to the legal gentleman who started all this:
"Then Veneering repairs to the legal gentleman in Britannia’s confidence, and with him transacts some delicate affairs of business, and issues an address to the independent electors of Pocket-Breaches, announcing that he is coming among them for their suffrages, as the mariner returns to the home of his early childhood: a phrase which is none the worse for his never having been near the place in his life, and not even now distinctly knowing where it is."
Meanwhile, Mrs. Veneering hasn't been idle, but has called on Lady Tippins, and telling her what has happened and entreats her to work for Veneering. Part of Lady Tippins reply is:
‘My love,� says Lady Tippins, ‘compose yourself; we’ll bring him in.� And Lady Tippins really does work, and work the Veneering horses too; for she clatters about town all day, calling upon everybody she knows, and showing her entertaining powers and green fan to immense advantage, by rattling on with, My dear soul, what do you think? What do you suppose me to be? You’ll never guess. I’m pretending to be an electioneering agent. And for what place of all places? Pocket-Breaches. And why? Because the dearest friend I have in the world has bought it. And who is the dearest friend I have in the world? A man of the name of Veneering."
Eventually all these workers end up back at Veneerings for dinner and for discussion of the days events. During this we have the different characters saying that they will "bring him in!" Podsnap, Boots, Brewer, Lady Tippins and Twenlow, all say they will bring him in, which has Dickens telling us:
"Strictly speaking, it would be hard to show cause why they should not bring him in, Pocket-Breaches having closed its little bargain, and there being no opposition. However, it is agreed that they must ‘work� to the last, and that if they did not work, something indefinite would happen."
And then comes the speech to the people of Pocket-Breaches, we are told:
"Veneering loses his way in the usual No Thoroughfares of speech, and Podsnap and Twemlow say Hear hear! and sometimes, when he can’t by any means back himself out of some very unlucky No Thoroughfare, ‘He-a-a-r He-a-a-r!� with an air of facetious conviction, as if the ingenuity of the thing gave them a sensation of exquisite pleasure."
And finally, after the speech, after the dinner with the legal gentleman, after the nomination and declaration, Podsnap wires to Mrs. Veneering, "We have brought him in." And now they return for another dinner with all who have helped bring him in. The chapter ends:
A touching little incident is related by Mrs Veneering, in the course of the evening. Mrs Veneering is habitually disposed to be tearful, and has an extra disposition that way after her late excitement. Previous to withdrawing from the dinner-table with Lady Tippins, she says, in a pathetic and physically weak manner:
‘You will all think it foolish of me, I know, but I must mention it. As I sat by Baby’s crib, on the night before the election, Baby was very uneasy in her sleep.�
The Analytical chemist, who is gloomily looking on, has diabolical impulses to suggest ‘Wind� and throw up his situation; but represses them.
‘After an interval almost convulsive, Baby curled her little hands in one another and smiled.�
Mrs Veneering stopping here, Mr Podsnap deems it incumbent on him to say: ‘I wonder why!�
‘Could it be, I asked myself,� says Mrs Veneering, looking about her for her pocket-handkerchief, ‘that the Fairies were telling Baby that her papa would shortly be an M. P.?�
So overcome by the sentiment is Mrs Veneering, that they all get up to make a clear stage for Veneering, who goes round the table to the rescue, and bears her out backward, with her feet impressively scraping the carpet: after remarking that her work has been too much for her strength. Whether the fairies made any mention of the five thousand pounds, and it disagreed with Baby, is not speculated upon.
Poor little Twemlow, quite done up, is touched, and still continues touched after he is safely housed over the livery-stable yard in Duke Street, Saint James’s. But there, upon his sofa, a tremendous consideration breaks in upon the mild gentleman, putting all softer considerations to the rout.
‘Gracious heavens! Now I have time to think of it, he never saw one of his constituents in all his days, until we saw them together!�
After having paced the room in distress of mind, with his hand to his forehead, the innocent Twemlow returns to his sofa and moans:
‘I shall either go distracted, or die, of this man. He comes upon me too late in life. I am not strong enough to bear him!�
As an fyi, I have been looking at Jane Smiley's biography of Dickens, which is more of a literary analysis than bio. Here are some of her comments about OMF."The book is a delight."
"The novel is driven by character and style rather than theme."
"The plot works itself out clearly, logically, and with pleasure for the reader."
"Our Mutual Friend is Dickens' perfect novel, seamless and true and delightful in every line."
Re why Headstone wants to accompany Charley on his visit to his sister: “Her eyes met those of the schoolmaster, who had evidently expected to see a very different sort of person, and�
I'm wondering too, Lynne.
Mod
We now begin our second book, titled, "Birds of a Feather". I was wondering why Our Mutual Friend is divided into four "books". I didn't get the feeling that there was a big clif..."
Well. Yet another school which seems to have more flaws than good pedagogy and another teacher with a descriptive name. Is Headstone or McChoakunchild the better name? Hard to say.
In this chapter Dickens introduces a couple of interesting new characters into the mix. Our stage is becoming increasingly crowded.
In terms of phrasing I found it interesting that we finally get a confirmation that at least one character is exactly as they present themselves to the reader. Charley says of his sister that "What she is, she is and shows herself to be. There's no pretending about my sister." We need some anchor characters and it appears we have one in Lizzie.
Headstone is a rather mechanical character and has the "Jaggers finger." Biting it, pointing it. A sign of latent aggression?
A new character, Miss Peecher, which rhymes with teacher - certainly not a coincidence - seems to have some interest in Mr Headstone, who, in turn, seems to have an interest in Lizzie. To muddy the waters even further, who but Eugene Wrayburn happens (?) to be in the neighbourhood. Since Dickens loves coincidences, I think this is no coincidence. Headstone's curiosity about Wrayburn's link to Lizzie is made apparent when he causally but obviously inquires of Charley " Going to see her, I dare say" and them muses about her education. Dickens must be beginning yet another plot thread for us.
The Doll's Dressmaker is yet another unique character who makes an appearance in this chapter. Her occupation of making dolls, which must fit somehow into future symbolism, is a skill and a craft which is linked to Miss Peecher's needlework. In a very suggestive ending to the chapter Dickens has Miss Peecher pierce "that part of her dress where her heart would have been if she had had the dress on with a sharp, sharp needle." This action follows her watching Headstone and Charley return to the school. If Miss Peecher likes Mr Headstone, and Mr Headstone likes Lizzie, and we have Wrayburn seemingly lurking around Lizzie, we have the makings of even more affairs of the heart, and grist for the Dickens mill of plot.
The Doll Maker has a habit of not wasting any material at all in the making of the doll dresses. Can this have any wider suggestive meaning to the story where we have already learned that waste can lead to wealth?
Mod
This was, to me, the most bizarre of the chapters we have encountered so far, and there have been a few.
Is it me or were there some faint tinges of Sydney Caron in the chapter? The following is my reference point:
Generally, I confess myself a man to be doubted, remarked Eugene coolly, " for all that."
"Why are you?" Asked the sharp Miss Wren.
" Because my dear, " said the airy Eugene, "I am a bad idle dog."
"Then why don't you reform and be a good dog?" inquired Miss Wren."
"Because, my dear," returned Eugene, "there's nobody who makes it worthwhile."
And then we read of Jenny smelling " miles of flowers" and hearing birds.
Earlier in the chapter we read that the doll's dressmaker's name is Fanny Cleaver but she has changed it to Jenny Wren. Here again we have mutability, alteration and perhaps a suggestion of a hidden side of the self. There are so many characters in this novel who are projecting an image but are, in reality, the opposite like the Lammles. Then we have the Veneering type people who have covered up their lives. Others, like the Boffins are thrust into a role they are unaccustomed to and heroically try to assimilate into. We have mystery layered onto mystery and symbols weaving into mutated patterns.
Consider, for example, how we read of the dead fished from the Thames who had their pockets turned out. Now, in this chapter, we read that Jenny, now called "the person of the house" stating "You know what you've got to do. Turn all your pockets inside out, and leave 'em so!" Why has Dickens changed the doll maker into Fanny Cleaver and then into Jenny Wren and then finally into "the person" of the house all in the span of one chapter?
Jenny Wren, as she apparently wants to be called, is described as being small of stature. Now I do know that a Wren is a very small bird.
For the remainder of the chapter, however, I am at a loss.
Mod
Pocket-Breeches is Dickens's way of poking fun at a concept that was a rather undemocratic way of getting elected into Parliament called the Pocket Borough. There were only a few of them, but still an interesting part of political history in England. If one had much influence, or lots of money, or preferably both, then the next stop in your life would have been Parliament. Here's a Wiki link for more detail.
OMF was written in the mid 1860' so the Pocket Borough no longer existed. Still, Dickens's readers would have got the meaning of how unsavoury politics was.
Kim wrote: "Dear Curiosities,We now begin our second book, titled, "Birds of a Feather". I was wondering why Our Mutual Friend is divided into four "books". I didn't get the feeling that there was a big clif..."
This is very interesting, the binding of the book into two separate volumes. I believe that the installments for OMF were published at a more stretched out rate than some of his previous books. He was slowing down.
The aspect of the publishing details, how the book was presented and how to be sold is fascinating in that going back to Boz and Pickwick, these considerations never left his mind.
Mod
Like you, I am reminded of Sydney Carton whenever Eugene makes one of his listless appearances in the book, and the quotation you referred to, finally made me shut the book when I was reading it and exclaim, HAAA! Luckily, there was no one around when I did this, and so I did not make anybody jump. Eugene is the clear opposite of Headstone. While the lawyer comes from a good family, was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and finds it all rather dull and pointless, all the while smoking good cigars and boring himself while partaking of sumptuous dinners - it being quite easy to find life void and empty as long as your stomach is full -, the teacher had to work his way up, and the deprivations he had undergone, his mind being not the readiest to accomodat knowledge, have made him rather distrustful of his surroundings, and instilled him with the fear of losing it all. That's probably why he was worried when Charley mentioned his sister, and why he wanted to take a look at her: He suspected that she was just not fit for an aspiring young boy like Charley, but his apprehensions seem to have been dispersed. And something else seems to have happened, but I'll not go into that right now.
The narrator also informs us of a certain wildness within Headstone, of a passion that is kept at bay under a veneer of respectability - that's why I liked that hint at auto-aggression that was made one or two post above. When Charley was introduced in the first book, the narrator made a similar observation about the boy being half-civilized, half-wild. Maybe, it will not be advisable to wake up that passion in Bradley Headstone. It's a pity that Headstone is not aware of the feelings he evokes in Miss Peecher's bosom - the name also reminded me of peaches - because then he could find some comfort and solace and get his mind more in balance. We'll see where his journey is going to take him.
Mod
Like you, I am reminded of Sydney Carton whenever Eugene makes one of his listless appearances in the book, and the quotation you referred to, finally made me shut the book when I was readi..."
Yes! That's it, Sydney. No wonder I like Eugene so much.
Mod
Chapter 1
Bradley Headstone and Charley Hexam
Book II, Chapter I
Sol Eytinge
1870 Illustrated Household Edition
Text Illustrated:
‘Look here, Hexam.� Mr Bradley Headstone, highly certificated stipendiary schoolmaster, drew his right forefinger through one of the buttonholes of the boy’s coat, and looked at it attentively. ‘I hope your sister may be good company for you?�
‘Why do you doubt it, Mr Headstone?�
‘I did not say I doubted it.�
‘No, sir; you didn’t say so.�
Bradley Headstone looked at his finger again, took it out of the buttonhole and looked at it closer, bit the side of it and looked at it again.
‘You see, Hexam, you will be one of us. In good time you are sure to pass a creditable examination and become one of us. Then the question is—�
The boy waited so long for the question, while the schoolmaster looked at a new side of his finger, and bit it, and looked at it again, that at length the boy repeated:
‘The question is, sir�?�
‘Whether you had not better leave well alone.�
‘Is it well to leave my sister alone, Mr Headstone?�
‘I do not say so, because I do not know. I put it to you. I ask you to think of it. I want you to consider. You know how well you are doing here.�
‘After all, she got me here,� said the boy, with a struggle."
Commentary:
"To illustrate "Of an Educational Character," Eytinge contrasts the Poe-esque school-master and his self-possessed pupil teacher. Although the American illustrator was undoubtedly able to mine the rich vein of visual material in the 1865 Chapman and Hall volume, Marcus Stone in his extensive narrative-pictorial series provided him with no usable model for the obsessed school-master, Bradley Headstone. Eytinge depicts him as anxiously studying the viewer as he gnaws his fingernails. He grips his chair, as if he were about to rise. Across from him, too small as yet to occupy easily the adult-size chair, duplicate to that on which the master sits uneasily, Charley Hexam dangles his feet above the schoolroom floor. Charley seems to be studying the master as much as the textbook before him. The large maps on the back wall and the students in the middle ground establish the physical setting. No aspect of the picture, however, suggests the topic of Charley and Bradley's conversation: a visit to Lizzie Hexam. As opposed to the situation described in the text, the two do not interact in this dual character study; the Jaggers-like right forefinger is not in one of the bottonholes of the boy's coat, and the master interrogates his acolyte about his sister.
Although Eytinge captures well Headstone's stiffness of manner, he looks older than twenty-six, and hardly seems a repository of knowledge or human calculator; rather, the illustrator has attempted to convey certain key traits of his character, notably his suspicious nature, his constrained manner, his smouldering but also "naturally slow" nature. Perhaps the plate illustrates this single line: “He always seemed to be uneasy lest anything should be missing from his mental warehouse and taking stock to assure himself�.
Mod
Mr. Bradley Headstone, highly certificated stipendiary schoolmaster, drew his right fore-finger through one of the buttonholes of the boy's coat, and looked at it attentively.
Book II Chapter 1
James Mahoney
Household Edition 1875
Commentary:
"The woodcut for Book Two, "Birds of a Feather," Chapter One, "Of an Educational Character," illustrates Charley's asking leave of his master, Bradley Headstone, to see his sister Lizzie after their father's death in the Thames. In his 1867 illustration for this same chapter, "Of an Educational Character," Sol Eytinge, Junior in the American Diamond Edition had contrasted a haunted, obsessive Poe-esque school-teacher and his self-possessed pupil-teacher. Although it is unlikely that James Mahoney had seen this illustration from the previous decade, he, too, elects to realize the same schoolroom scene. Unfortunately, in the 1864-65 Chapman and Hall serialization, Dickens's original illustrator, Marcus Stone, had provided neither artist with a usable model for the obsessed school-master, Bradley Headstone. Eytinge had effectively depicted Headstone as anxiously studying the viewer as he gnaws his fingernails on one hand and grips his chair with the other. Whereas in the 1867 illustration Charley Hexam dangles his feet above the schoolroom floor, in the 1875 British illustration Charley stands in front of Headstone, who is button-holing him to make a point after class. In Eytinge, Charley seems to be studying the master as much as the textbook before him. In Mahoney, the illustration prepares the reader for Headstone's putting on his respectable hat as he prepares to accompany Charley to Lizzie's new lodgings at Smith Square, and readers will be introduced to "The Person of the House," the dolls' dressmaker Jenny Wren.
Although Mahoney, like Eytinge, captures well Headstone's stiffness of manner, in both the Diamond and Household Edition, teacher Bradley Headstone, risen to the middle class from humble origins, looks older than twenty-six. In neither illustration does he appear to be a great repository of knowledge or a human calculator, but the Eytinge and Mahoney portraits coincide with Dickens' physical description:
Bradley Headstone, in his decent black coat and waistcoat, and decent white shirt, and decent formal black tie, and decent pantaloons of pepper and salt, with his decent silver watch in his pocket and its decent hair-guard round his neck, looked a thoroughly decent young man of six-and-twenty. He was never seen in any other dress, and yet there was a certain stiffness in his manner of wearing this, as if there were a want of adaptation between him and it, recalling some mechanics in their holiday clothes.
Whereas the American illustrator has conveyed certain key traits of Headstone's character, notably his suspicious nature, his constrained manner, his smoldering but also "naturally slow" nature, Mahoney has merely given us the "outward" man: respectably dressed, introverted, wooden. The sign "school" on the door is entirely superfluous since Mahoney has convincingly rendered the long desks with the bench seats, the portable blackboard, and the map at the front of the unadorned room that the teacher and his teacher-pupil are about to leave. Charley studies the master, whose inward gaze suggests that he is pondering what young Hexam's adolescent sister will look like."
Mod
Chapter 2
"The Person of the House and the Bad Child"
Chapter 2
Marcus Stone
Commentary:
"The 30 September 1864 illustration "The Person of the House and the Bad Child" in chapter 2 ("Still Educational") of the second book depends for its effectiveness upon the startling contrast between the accusatory finger of the doll's dress-maker, Jenny Wren, and hand to the forehead, suggestive of introspection and anguish of the alcoholic parent. Stone has brilliantly conveyed the drive and determination of the child and the slovenly retreat from adult responsibility by her forward-leaning posture and the angle of the legs of the miscreant.
As Steig notes in Dickens and Phiz, the wood-engraving eschews caricature even in a subject so fitting for such a treatment, and no longer relies on emblem and allusion as the steel engravings of Phiz and Cruikshank did; rather, as we see in this Stone wood-engraving, subtle details of posture and clothing have entirely replaced the older method of the illustrator's commenting on his material, through such details of physical setting as material objects, notably paintings and posters. A "New Man of the Sixties," Stone like others among the new generation of illustrators (notably John Millais, Fred Walker, Fred Barnard) realized that the new medium of the wood engraving was most useful in delineating character. Dickens, too, must be credited with exploiting the possibilities of the new medium, as his "letterings" or captions for Stone's illustrations consistently suggest a focus on character over setting. For the sixth installment of the novel, Dickens himself proposed this scene ("The Dolls Dress Maker") as a subject for the October number to Stone in a letter of 7 July 1864; he gave Stone the precise title in a letter of 26 August 1864: "The person of the house and the bad child" (Vol. 10: 421). Compare Stone's treatment of this subject to the rather more vigorous depiction of delinquent father and chastising daughter in Eytinge's study for the Harper's New Monthly Magazine serialization of the novel.
The contrapposto modeling of the figure of the "Bad Child" renders him the sympathetic focus of attention in Stone's illustration, his agony over his addiction and its consequences implied by his posture, and attempt to retreat from his lively little daughter and her pointed chastisement of his recent binge. In contrast, the hard-working dolls'-dressmaker, interrupted in the midst of her labors, performing surgery on a doll's dress, is Eytinge's focus; by positioning her to the right (i. e., stage left), Eytinge has blocked the insentient parent's retreat, were he capable of so much action. A subtle detail in Stone's treatment is the walking cane beside the Bad Child, implying that he, too, has a disability. His top-hat he holds between his knees, as his whole pose betokens shame and self-loathing. On the wall, an adult-sized female's bonnet and shawl hang on the peg in Stone's plate to imply the daughter's grown up status as bread-winner and money-minder ("The Person of the House"), whereas in Eytinge's version the short garment on the peg is better suited to Jenny Wren's diminutive form, and perhaps implies that it is unjust and unnatural that one so young should have to assume such authority. Rather more melodramatic than strictly realist, Eytinge's "The Person of the House and the Bad Child" depicts the errant parent as a sad clown who is barely able to raise his hands as described in the text, is so stupefied that he sits inert, with his shabby great coat and disreputable hat still covering his ill-kempt hair, as if unable to exert himself even in so minor a matter as removing these garments indoors. His mask-like face and lifeless eyes he directs away from her and at the floor. Stone's requiring the reader to supply the earnest child's facial expression as she looks up from her work-table is one of the illustration's admirable subtleties."
Now I have to go look up contrapposto.
Mod
The Person of the House and the Bad Child
Chapter 2
Sol Eytinge Jr.
1870 Illustrated Household Edition.
Commentary:
"This illustration for "Still Educational," depicting Fanny Cleaver (but self-nicknamed "Jenny Wren," perhaps for her bird-like animation and movements) and her alcoholic father, is similar in composition to a full-page Marcus Stone woodcut of the same name in the 1865 Chapman and Hall volume.
Undoubtedly Sol Eytinge had had ample opportunity to study the original and � at least, in his aesthetic judgment � to improve upon it by altering the viewer's perspective in order to study Miss Wren's facial expression. Eytinge also foregrounds the dolls'-dressmaker's fine work, and renders the hapless parent merely a melancholic, bedraggled clown, more comic and less sympathetic. Eytinge reveals his innate theatrical sense as, instead of having the principal speaker turned upstage, he reconfigures the scene, changing the places and juxtapositions of his actors, placing the earnest child � who has had a parent's responsibility for and oversight of "The Bad Child" thrust upon her by circumstances beyond her control � upstage left and the object of her vociferous scolding downstage right, with both faces clearly discernible. In other words, to direct the viewer's gaze and to control his or her response, Eytinge has reversed the characters' positions in Marcus Stone's illustration, retaining precisely the same large easy-chair and work-table, but moving the former right and the latter from centre-stage to stage left.
The revised illustration features a number of other subtle changes that adjust the reader's response, rendering the scene essentially comic parent-child reversal rather than a serious commentary on the dangers of dipsomania. The overall difference in these two interpretations of the same textual scene is the difference between the effect of the three-dimensional and social realism for which the New Men of the Sixties such as Fred Walker, Fred Barnard, and George DuMaurier strove in the new illustrated magazines and the comic caricatures of the previous generation of British illustrators, notably George Cruikshank, Hablot Knight Browne ("Phiz") and John Leech of Punch fame. In terms of the theatre, the difference is much the same as that between the over-the-top physical comedy of the early nineteenth-century farce and burletta and the more subtle social comedy of Tom Robertson, dominating the English-language theatre on both sides of the Atlantic in a series of verbally witty dramas, including Society (1865), Caste (1867), and School (1869).
The greatest difference between the two similarly named illustrations' figures lies in Eytinge's much more detailed treatment Jenny Wren herself. In Stone's plate, we see her naturalistic face in profile as she wags a scolding finger at the inebriate; she does not seem to be misshapen or twisted in any way. In Eytinge's, we see her full-face, and note the doll and work-basket (resembling a Noah's ark) on her work-table, and in her gesturing hand a small pair of scissors, indicative of her sharp mind and tart tongue. As in Dickens's description of her, Eytinge has given luxuriant hair and very little shoulder.
Although the woodcut realizes the serio-comic interview in its entirety, perhaps the single passage that the Eytinge plate so well illustrates in conveying the text's comic spirit with scrupulous attention to detail is this:
"How's my Jenny?" said the man, timidly. "How's my Jenny Wren, best of children, object dearest affections broken-hearted invalid."
To which the person of the house, stretching out her arm in an attitude of command, replied with irresponsive asperity: "Go along with you! Go along into your corner! Get into your corner directly!"
The wretched spectacle made as if he would have offered some remonstrance; but not venturing to resist the person of the house, thought better of it, and went and sat down on a particular chair of disgrace.
Oh-h-h!" cried the person of the house, pointing her little finger, "You bad old boy! Oh-h-h you naughty, wicked creature! What do you mean by it?"
The shaking figure, unnerved and disjointed from head to foot, put out its two hands a little way, as making overtures of peace and reconciliation. Abject tears stood in its eyes, and stained the blotched red of its cheeks. The swollen lead-colored under-lip trembled with a shameful whine. The whole indecorous threadbare ruin, from the broken shoes to the prematurely-grey scanty hair, groveled."
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He stood leaning by the door at Lizzie's side
Book II, Chapter 2
James Mahoney
1875 Household Edition
Text Illustrated:
"A man's figure paused on the pavement at the outer door. "Mr. Eugene Wrayburn, ain't it?" said Miss Wren. "So I am told," was the answer.
"You may come in, if you're good."
"I am not good," said Eugene, "but I'll come in."
He gave his hand to Jenny Wren, and he gave his hand to Lizzie, and he stood leaning by the door at Lizzie's side. He had been strolling with his cigar, he said, (it was smoked out and gone by this time,) and he had strolled round to return in that direction that he might look in as he passed. Had she not seen her brother to-night?
"Yes," said Lizzie, whose manner was a little troubled.
Gracious condescension on our brother's part! Mr. Eugene Wrayburn thought he had passed my young gentleman on the bridge yonder. Who was his friend with him?
"The schoolmaster."
"To be sure. Looked like it"
Commentary:
"The woodcut for Book Two, "Birds of a Feather," Chapter Two, "Still Educational," introduces the unusual character of Fanny Cleaver ("Jenny Wren," as the crippled thirteen-year-old dolls' dressmaker calls herself) to the narrative-pictorial sequence, and signals the development of a romantic triangle involving Eugene Wrayburn, Bradley Headstone (who has just left the dolls' dressmaker's house with Charley Hexam), and Lizzie. Mahoney had several useful models in Marcus Stone's serial illustrations of 1864-65, notably the 30 September 1864 illustration of Jenny Wren's berating her father for his drunkeness, The Person of the House and the Bad Child. However, Mahoney must have found the parent-child role reversal less interesting than Eugene Wrayburn's attempting to persuade Lizzie to accept his offer of literacy training. In his 1867 illustration for this same chapter, "Still Educational," Sol Eytinge, Junior in the American Diamond Edition had contrasted the decrepit, pathetic figure of the dipsomaniac and reproving, perceptive face of his daughter. In Stone's plate, we see her naturalistic face in profile as she wags a scolding finger at the inebriate; she does not seem to be misshapen or twisted in any way. In Eytinge's, we see her full-face, and note the doll and work-basket (resembling a Noah's ark) on her work-table, and in her gesturing hand a small pair of scissors, indicative of her sharp mind and tart tongue. Mahoney's treatment of Jenny Wren's workroom includes her tools, workbench, and dolls, but lacks the character comedy and analysis of Stone's and Eytinge's. However, flagging an important plot development rather than a pictorial moment, Mahoney's half-page composite-wood-block engraving establishes Eugene's interest in Lizzie as well as the sisterly relationship between the sharp-witted Jenny (who seems charmed by Eugene) and the sensitive, attractive Lizzie whose neutral expression suggests that she is yet to be convinced about accepting Eugene's offer. Curiously, Mahoney has elected not to depict Eugene's cigar."
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Bringing Him in
Chapter 3
Marcus Stone
Text Illustrated:
"Then, dinner is had at the Hotel with the legal gentleman, and then there are in due succession, nomination, and declaration. Finally Mr Podsnap telegraphs to Mrs Veneering, ‘We have brought him in.�
Another gorgeous dinner awaits them on their return to the Veneering halls, and Lady Tippins awaits them, and Boots and Brewer await them. There is a modest assertion on everybody’s part that everybody single-handed ‘brought him in�; but in the main it is conceded by all, that that stroke of business on Brewer’s part, in going down to the house that night to see how things looked, was the master-stroke.
A touching little incident is related by Mrs Veneering, in the course of the evening. Mrs Veneering is habitually disposed to be tearful, and has an extra disposition that way after her late excitement. Previous to withdrawing from the dinner-table with Lady Tippins, she says, in a pathetic and physically weak manner:
‘You will all think it foolish of me, I know, but I must mention it. As I sat by Baby’s crib, on the night before the election, Baby was very uneasy in her sleep.�
The Analytical chemist, who is gloomily looking on, has diabolical impulses to suggest ‘Wind� and throw up his situation; but represses them.
‘After an interval almost convulsive, Baby curled her little hands in one another and smiled.�
Mrs Veneering stopping here, Mr Podsnap deems it incumbent on him to say: ‘I wonder why!�
‘Could it be, I asked myself,� says Mrs Veneering, looking about her for her pocket-handkerchief, ‘that the Fairies were telling Baby that her papa would shortly be an M. P.?�
So overcome by the sentiment is Mrs Veneering, that they all get up to make a clear stage for Veneering, who goes round the table to the rescue, and bears her out backward, with her feet impressively scraping the carpet: after remarking that her work has been too much for her strength. Whether the fairies made any mention of the five thousand pounds, and it disagreed with Baby, is not speculated upon."
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"One thing, however, that I can do for you, " says Tremlow; "and that is, work for you."
Book II Chapter 3
Text Illustrated:
"Between such old and intimate friends as ourselves," pursues Veneering, "there should in such a case be no reserve. Promise me that if I ask you to do anything for me which you don't like to do, or feel the slightest difficulty in doing, you will freely tell me so."
This, Twemlow is so kind as to promise, with every appearance of most heartily intending to keep his word.
"Would you have any objection to write down to Snigsworthy Park, and ask this favour of Lord Snigsworth? Of course if it were granted I should know that I owed it solely to you; while at the same time you would put it to Lord Snigsworth entirely upon public grounds. Would you have any objection?"
Says Twemlow, with his hand to his forehead, "You have exacted a promise from me."
"I have, my dear Twemlow."
"And you expect me to keep it honourably."
"I do, my dear Twemlow."
"On the whole, then; � observe me," urges Twemlow with great nicety, as if; in the case of its having been off the whole, he would have done it directly � "on the whole, I must beg you to excuse me from addressing any communication to Lord Snigsworth."
"Bless you, bless you!" says Veneering; horribly disappointed, but grasping him by both hands again, in a particularly fervent manner.
It is not to be wondered at that poor Twemlow should decline to inflict a letter on his noble cousin (who has gout in the temper), inasmuch as his noble cousin, who allows him a small annuity on which he lives, takes it out of him, as the phrase goes, in extreme severity; putting him, when he visits at Snigsworthy Park, under a kind of martial law; ordaining that he shall hang his hat on a particular peg, sit on a particular chair, talk on particular subjects to particular people, and perform particular exercises: such as sounding the praises of the Family Varnish (not to say Pictures), and abstaining from the choicest of the Family Wines unless expressly invited to partake.
"One thing, however, I can do for you," says Twemlow; "and that is, work for you."
Veneering blesses him again.
"I'll go," says Twemlow, in a rising hurry of spirits, "to the club; � let us see now; what o'clock is it?"
"Twenty minutes to eleven."
"I'll be," says Twemlow, "at the club by ten minutes to twelve, and I'll never leave it all day."
Veneering feels that his friends are rallying round him, and says, "Thank you, thank you. I knew I could rely upon you."
Commentary:
"The woodcut for Book Two, "Birds of a Feather," Chapter Three, "A Piece of Work," introduces Melvin Tremlow, a hanger-on in polite society, and reintroduces Hamilton Veneering, whose periodic dinner parties bring together a number of upper-middle class characters who act as a sort of chorus.
Since Twemlow has just had a hair treatment with an egg compound, he is readily identifiable as the middle-aged man in the smoking jacket with his hair standing on end. After this interview, he hastens to his club, where he recommends Veneering to every member whom he encounters as "Coming in for Pocket-Breaches," but obtains no material assistance for Veneering. In the Mahoney illustration, the hopeful politician, having placed his hat and cane upon the table (right), has taken a seat near Twemlow, positioned by the fireplace, and seems to be supplicating him for assistance, if one may judge by his gesture. Twemlow attends to his own comfort before all else, if one may judge by his slippered feet on the fender and large, stuffed chair."
Paul McCartney has a song called "Jenny Wren" - here's a link to it:Some of the lines could apply to our Jenny. I've often wondered what it was that Jenny suffered from. It's never explicitly stated, but I'd have to assume it's either rickets or scoliosis. I believe it was in the book Call the Midwife that rickets was mentioned, and it said that it was common among urban children in 19th century London because they didn't get enough sunlight.
As to Miss Peecher, I'm reminded of a rather archaic use of the word "peach" - "an exceptionally good or attractive person or thing" according to Oxford. Some of you might remember its use in an old movie (start at the 2:58 mark):
But it may also have to do with why our narrator describes her as "buxom"....
Thanks for link to McCartney singing Jenny Wren, Mary Lou. It got me started on the name. It turns out that songs, rhymes about Jenny Wren go back to medieval times. That name sounded familiar somehow..Here is an interesting analysis of Dickens' character, Jenny Wren.
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LindaH
Thank you for the link. Now Jenny and her actions makes more sense. In this novel, I need all the guidelines I can get.
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"The process requiring that Twemlow shall, for two hours after the application, allow his hair to stick upright and dry gradually, he is in an appropriate state for the receipt of startling intelligence; looking equally like the Monument on Fish Street Hill, and King Priam on a certain incendiary occasion not wholly unknown as a neat point from the classics."
However, I really do not know what to make of Dickens having Veneering become an MP in Chapter 3. Will it be relevant to the plot, or is it just an indulgence on the part of the narrator, giving him an opportunity to express his contempt for politics and for those engaged in it?
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At the same time, while both are in the same picture they look like two people each following their own aims and living in a world of their own, the embodiment of self-centrednessa and meanness. That's really an impressive illustration! Thanks, Kim!
Jessie Wilcox Smith's illustration of Jenny Wren - Dang it! I can never get the illustrations to show up! Here's a link:
Tristram, since Soltinge's illo of Headstone "gives you [us] the creeps"....what should we make of this reminder?“Such were the circumstances that had brought together, Bradley Headstone and young Charley Hexam that autumn evening. Autumn, because full half a year had come and gone since the bird of prey lay dead upon the river-shore.�
I guess what I'm wondering is, Why mention bird of prey in the same paragraph as Headstone?
An earlier line about Headstone also is curious:
�...while the habit of questioning and being questioned had given him [Headstone] a suspicious manner, or a manner that would be better described as one of lying in wait."
Predators lie in wait.
Birds of a feather...stick together. Where is Dickens going with this, in Book 2?If the multiple characters and disjointed plot don't get us, the sub heads will. LOL
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Dang it! I can never get the illustrations to show up! Here's a link:
"
Jenny Wren, the little dolls' dressmaker from Our Mutual Friend illustration for Dickens' Children. Published 1912"
Kim wrote: "Mary Lou wrote: "Dang it! I can never get the illustrations to show up!"You rock, Kim - thanks!
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OMF has a "meandering" quality to it. I don't necessarily say that in a negative context (though sometimes during my reading, I do). I guess brooks and slow rivers have a meandering quality, so perhaps appropos.
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I don't mind meandering novels provided they are written in an intriguing style, give me interesting characters and also a lot to think about. It's like a trip down the river: If there are lots of things to see on the river shores, you will hardly wish the current were quicker.
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Has he said anything nice about schools in any of his books?
Which makes one have to question why he has apparently destined Charley for a schoolmaster. Being down on schools presumably means being down on schoolmasters. Is that a knock against Charley? And why he would let us consider that Headstone might be a suitable husband for Lizzie? Does he think so little of Lizzie?
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I had the same question. It does sound as though the hats she is making are hats for adults, not for dolls. And if she was really cutting out fabric pieces for dolls hats, it wouldn't seem as though the pieces she had left (since she would be frugal with her expensive fabric) would be big enough to make into pen-wipers or pincushions.
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Did you really not know that raw egg is supposed to be very good for hair? I've known that for years. Decades, indeed.
From a recipe for home made egg shampoo:
"Egg is a very good hair cleanser. Hard to believe? It’s science! The egg yolk contains lecithin, which is an emulsifier. It works to emulsify the oil with water, which is then rinsed out. So basically egg cuts through the grease and dirt and will make your hair squeaky clean."
Or from Cosmopolitan:
"Take one whole egg. Whisk in a bowl. Take it into the shower with you. Rinse hair with luke warm/ cold water. Hold bowl close to your head and just sort of slop it on, massaging in to the ends and the roots. Leave for 3 minutes and then wash out thoroughly with water as cold as you can handle it. (Not only will cold water ensure it won't cook and leave scraggly bits of omelet tangled in your locks, cold water seems to produce shinier, healthier looking hair in general.)"
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She read a different book than I'm reading.
Plot? What plot? We're a quarter of the way through the book: can anybody tell me what the plot is, other than that there are now two dead bodies and we so far have no idea whether they were murdered or died naturally, but this isn't a detective story because the Inspector has been nowhere to be seen for a long time, the only person responding to the reward is beyond suspicious, and there's no Inspector Bucket on the scene, so we know Dickens knows how to write a detective element into his stories but is choosing not to.
But other than that, what's the plot?
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Actually, dermatophagia is considered more a sign of obsessive-compulsive disorder than aggressiveness.
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Reinventing herself? Is she showing unhappiness with the way she was born and is trying to create a new persona? Fanny Cleaver is a mundane, almost negative, name; Jenny Wren is a cheerful name.
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Book II Chapter 3
Text Illustrated:"
Oh dear, that character with the mussed hair and craggy face somewhat shabbily dressed (mere slippers, yet!) is not Veneering at all. Veneering is smooth, sleek, self-satisfied, always dressed to the nines, everything new, newer, newest.
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When are you not?
Tristram wrote: "I like that comparison of yours, John, between a river and the novel because it seems to support Peter's idea that maybe the Thames itself is the "Mutual Friend" referred to in the title.I don't ..."
I do find a "river" quality to the book because the rivers I knew "meandered" through turns and took their time arriving to wherever the arrival was. I do find it a metaphor in or for this book. I see characters here also as "tributaries," which also invokes a river/water theme.
Everyman wrote: "Kim wrote: "If I remember when I'm done with this and getting illustrations I'm going in search of why you would put eggs in your hair. "Did you really not know that raw egg is supposed to be ver..."
Surely I'm not the only one who thought of this while reading about the eggs....
Everyman wrote: "Plot? What plot? We're a quarter of the way through the book: can anybody tell me what the plot is, other than that there are now two dead bodies "I suppose you're right, we don't have an obvious plot yet, but we have quite a few intriguing, if fitful, starts. What about those dead men? Will Wegg or Rokesmith take advantage of our dear Boffins? Will Rokesmith and Bella become "Rokesmella" (sorry - couldn't help myself)? Will the Boffins find a child to adopt? Will Veneering become an MP? What are those Lammles up to, anyway? And that barely scratches the surface!
I'm not sure how I'd feel if I was reading this for the first time and wasn't familiar with Dickens (though our new member, Kathleen, has only read OMF and A Christmas Carol and here she is, eager for more!), but I'm curious enough, and trust Dickens enough, to know there will be a big pay off before we get too much farther.
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Did you really not know that raw egg is s..."
Mary Lou
Thank you for posting the clip from "I Love Lucy." How perfect was that show. Innocent and one can laugh till tears run down your cheeks.
Luuuucy!!!
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Has he said anything nice about schools in any of his books?
Which makes one hav..."
I'd say that Dickens's opinion on those schools is somewhat divided and that this shows in the description of his teachers in the course of the novels. For instance, in the first paragraph of Chapter 1, the narrator says,
"The teachers, animated solely by good intentions, had no idea of execution, and a lamentable jumble was the upshot of their kind endeavours."
What Dickens seems to be criticizing is not really the teachers or schools themselves but just the principles on which they were run. Take Mr. Gradgrind: He is a utilitarian, concentrated on teaching facts and thus stifling children's imagination, turning out badly-educated children of his school. But he is doing this with the best intentions. A similar thing can be said of Dr. Blimber in Dombey and Son.
On the other hand, there are mere caricatures of evil, such as Squeers and Creakle. What is common to both, however, is that actually they are no real schoolteachers after all, i.e. they have just set up schools and not undergone any real education.
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The more things change . . .
This is the situation that Teach for America volunteers found themselves in -- the best of intentions, but a system and structure which made it virtually impossible to use their talents and interests for the benefit of the students.
Over the years I've read some generalized essays about the characters in Dickens' books. Although not scientific on my part by any means, it did strike me the other day that the one that seems to get mentioned most often from OMF is Jenny Wren.
Oh my word, I have been searching for this thread for the last week and could I find it?! Perhaps my phone was playing up or it was major dotage on my part! I have read only a few of the comments and Kim's excellent introduction. I loved the links, Linda and Mary Lou. And 'Lucy' no less! Is there anyone who doesn't love Lucy?! (This is rhetorical of course!)I can see what you mean about a distinct lack of plot, Everyman. For me it is, however, clear: a river runs through it (thank you, John), there are those who eat, those who drink, those who teach, those who scold, those who sew, those who die, those who kill (or are there?) - all a part of life's rich tapestry. :D. It's a little like a collection of short stories in chapter form that have been 'doctored' later to give the impression that they tie up in some way. I'm enjoying it, I think. It is Dickens after all ...
Was trying to remember, was there a mention early in Book 1 that Lizzie had a brother? I don't recall any line in Chapter 1 to that effect.
We now begin our second book, titled, "Birds of a Feather". I was wondering why Our Mutual Friend is divided into four "books". I didn't get the feeling that there was a big cliffhanger at the end of the last chapter, and there doesn't seem to be a big jump ahead in time, so why four books? I looked it up.
"By the 1850s, Dickens was also thinking in terms of binding the parts into two entities, rather than one: Little Dorrit (1854-55) was divided into two "books," and Our Mutual Friend is divided into four "books" designed to be issued in two bound volumes, each separately paginated, thus:
Volume I
Book the First. The Cup and the Lip
Book the Second. Birds of a Feather
Volume II
Book the Third. A Long Lane
Book the Fourth. A Turning
The first volume, bound up from unsold numbers and encased in a stamped cloth binding, went on sale in February 1865, after the last number had been issued, at 11 s. Included in the 32 printed pages were a half-title, title page, dedication page, contents, and "Illustrations to Volume I." The very first illustration for the first number, "The Bird of Prey," showing Gaffer and Lizzie in the boat on the Thames, was used as frontispiece. The second volume appeared in November 1865 at the end of the serial run. In addition to the usual preliminary leaves, volume II contained a "Postscript in Lieu of Preface," since the issuance of volume I in February precluded adding a preface to it in November. As there was no vignette title, the illustrator Marcus Stone supplied an extra illustration (three rather than two) and a frontispiece. Subsequently unsold parts were reused to make up a one-volume edition."
There's a lot more about serial publication, but I'll skip it and move on to the chapter. The first chapter is titled "OF AN EDUCATIONAL CHARACTER" and we find ourselves at the school that Charley has been attending since Lizzie had managed to save up and send him there. Reading this made me think that Dickens certainly didn't seem to have a very good opinion of schools. At this school we have:
...." a miserable loft in an unsavoury yard. Its atmosphere was oppressive and disagreeable; it was crowded, noisy, and confusing; half the pupils dropped asleep, or fell into a state of waking stupefaction; the other half kept them in either condition by maintaining a monotonous droning noise, as if they were performing, out of time and tune, on a ruder sort of bagpipe. The teachers, animated solely by good intentions, had no idea of execution, and a lamentable jumble was the upshot of their kind endeavours."
I could picture this place perfectly, especially the rude bagpipe part, it is exactly what it sounds like. The notes in my book say about the school:
"Dicken's notes confirm that he has in mind a Ragged School. These catered for children of the poorest classes, and were equipped, financed and manned accordingly. Dickens took an active interest in them, first visiting Field Lane Ragged School in 1843, and reporting on its p rogress ten years later in "A Sleep to Startle Us' in Household Words. He was critical of the conditions, the quality of teaching, and the prevailing Evangelical ethos of such schools, and he worried that their existence might obstruct the establishment of a proper national system of education. In another Household Words piece six months later, written with Henry Morley, he called them 'a slight and ineffectual palliative of an enormous evil. They want system, power, means, authority, experienced and thoroughly trained teachers'. In 1870, the year of Dickens's death, Forster's Education Act made the idea of an education system for the first time something of a reality."
It doesn't seem very nice to me to name schools for the poor children "ragged" schools, but that's what they are. We are told that even in this school, this "temple of good intentions", a boy could learn something, and could teach something, and this boy is Charley. The schoolmaster, Bradley Headstone (quite the name) has taken a special interest in Charley, I suppose as being the one boy that did learn something there. When Charley asks permission to go see his sister, Mr. Headstone wants to go with him. Why I don't know. Even after he was there and met her I still didn't know why he almost insisted on going. But go he did, and he did meet Lizzle, what comes of it I don't know yet, why he went I'm not sure I'll ever know. Mr. Headstone is described in this way:
"Bradley Headstone, in his decent black coat and waistcoat, and decent white shirt, and decent formal black tie, and decent pantaloons of pepper and salt, with his decent silver watch in his pocket and its decent hair-guard round his neck, looked a thoroughly decent young man of six-and-twenty. He was never seen in any other dress, and yet there was a certain stiffness in his manner of wearing this, as if there were a want of adaptation between him and it, recalling some mechanics in their holiday clothes. He had acquired mechanically a great store of teacher’s knowledge. He could do mental arithmetic mechanically, sing at sight mechanically, blow various wind instruments mechanically, even play the great church organ mechanically. From his early childhood up, his mind had been a place of mechanical stowage.......There was a kind of settled trouble in the face. It was the face belonging to a naturally slow or inattentive intellect that had toiled hard to get what it had won, and that had to hold it now that it was gotten. He always seemed to be uneasy lest anything should be missing from his mental warehouse, and taking stock to assure himself."
We are told there are two schools, one for boys the other the girls, and Miss Peecher is the schoolmistress of the girl's school. Miss Peecher is:
"Small, shining, neat, methodical, and buxom was Miss Peecher; cherry-cheeked and tuneful of voice. A little pincushion, a little housewife, a little book, a little workbox, a little set of tables and weights and measures, and a little woman, all in one. She could write a little essay on any subject, exactly a slate long, beginning at the left-hand top of one side and ending at the right-hand bottom of the other, and the essay should be strictly according to rule. If Mr Bradley Headstone had addressed a written proposal of marriage to her, she would probably have replied in a complete little essay on the theme exactly a slate long, but would certainly have replied Yes. For she loved him."
We don't see much of Miss Peecher in this chapter, but I have a feeling she will be back. Meanwhile Charley and Mr. Headstone have arrived and not only do they see Lizzle, they meet the "person of the house", described as " a child—a dwarf—a girl—a something—sitting on a little low old-fashioned arm-chair, which had a kind of little working bench before it." Her "sharp" behavior toward them has Charley asking his sister later how she came to get into such company as "that little witch's". This "person of the house" tells the men she is a "doll's dressmaker". I haven't figured out whether she is really making dresses for dolls, or if she calls the women who come to her for dresses "dolls". When Lizzie and Charley are alone he tells her she is embarassing him by living there. He is trying to get up in the world, he says, but Lizzie is pulling him back. During this conversation we learn that the child's father is always drunk. "The father is like his own father, a weak wretched trembling creature, falling to pieces, never sober. But a good workman too, at the work he does. The mother is dead. This poor ailing little creature has come to be what she is, surrounded by drunken people from her cradle—if she ever had one, Charley.�
This seems to make Charley want her out of the house even more. I don't like Charley and I can't wait until he gets back to school and hopefully stays there. Left forever in school seems like a good punishment for him. So far. As Charley and Mr. Headstone walk home we find that Mr. Headstone thinks it would be a good idea that now that their father is dead, Lizzie should have the chance to get some schooling of her own. Charley agrees and Mr. Headstone promises to think of it, which I guess means think of the best teacher for Lizzie. Himself perhaps?