Chapter 1
I often find that reading Dickens while concurrently reading other novels can reduce one's enjoyment of the other works; very few writers have ever been able to match Dickens' scintillating prose. Bleak House is no exception.Right from the opening paragraph, we know that we’re reading the work of a master at his craft. Dickens immerses us in the fog and stink and mud of mid-19th century London. And having painted the scene, he proceeds to pillory the self-serving organization of lawyers in Chancery, delivering a delicious blend of irony, condemnation and ridicule.
Chapter 2
Dickens is a master at applying the physical appearance and mannerisms of his characters as metaphor for their personalities. Tulkinghorn’s dull black attire that “never shines” denotes his talent for absorbing confidential information which is thereupon buried in his person, never to be divulged. He carries the process even further by also ensuring that he tells his client nothing that would be of any use to them.
He thereby joins the vast ranks of service providers who, while ostensibly catering to the needs of the Dedlocks, are in reality subtly directing every aspect of the lives of their clients. A perfectly balanced social arrangement that suits all the parties concerned.
As a personal observation, a similar regime exists in our world today, whereby the denizens of the world of technology, while ostensibly serving the needs of the public for information, communication, entertainment and gadgetry, are in reality determining the direction and pace of technical changes, rendering us increasingly dependent on their offerings and compelling each of us to adopt the latest versions and adapt our daily routines to the environment they are creating and managing.
Chapter 3
A sudden shift to a first-person narrative lends an air of mystery. We learn almost nothing of Esther’s forebears, how she came to be placed with her governess or why she is provided with ongoing financial support — or her connection with Jarndyce. Her character is made to emerge slowly through her voice and mannerisms (starkly different in language and emotional timbre from that of the arms-length third-party narrator). Dickens shows himself to be a very efficient writer in this chapter, telling Esther’s whole life story from infancy to about age 18 a few pages, without seeming at all rushed.
Chapter 4
Indulging in a bit of a side-journey into the horrifyingly hilarious world of Mrs. Jellyby provides Dickens with an opportunity to comment on a social issue of his time, that of some Britons’ ill-conceived and inept attempts at redirecting the lives of subject peoples abroad while entirely failing to address the ghastly state of affairs within their own land — in this case even their own household. This is dark humor indeed, with a very bitter message. Young Caddy, clearly an intelligent girl who has been rendered a hopeless, resentful drudge by her obsessive mother, is especially poignant. And yet Dickens pulls it off so deliciously that we find ourselves laughing out loud at the chaos of the Jellybys’ ”excellent dinner if it had had any cooking to speak of” including the dish of potatoes being mislaid in the coal scuttle as well as a collection of letter ending up in the gravy. Mr. Quale’s observation calling the matrimonial alliance of Mrs. Jellyby with Mr. Jellyby the union of mind and matter more or less sums up this mad household.
Chapter 5
I note that Dickens refrains from identifying the “little old lady” by any sort of name, leading me to suggest that she is in effect an archetype, symbolically representing the hordes of plaintiffs who vainly seek justice at the court of Chancery, eternally haunting the premises in hopes of having their case finally dealt with. But what are we to make of Krook, this strange old rag-picker and his ominous references to the dire cloud of misfortune hovering over Jarndyce? Although his prattle at times appears foolish or simply presumptuous, he appears to know a great deal about Jarndyce, in fact more than the young cousins who are themselves participants (dare we say victims?) of the case. Is it just idle gossip or is there menace brewing?
And there’s more symbolism here: Krook is engaged in gathering up all of the castoffs, the detritus of London: the wreckage that’s left behind as lives, fortunes, reputations are destroyed, whether victims of Chancery, business failure, collateral damage, the winds of change or the wages of sin. He is first cousin to the bailiff in bankruptcy, the undertaker and the gravedigger. Perhaps once Chancery is finally finished with Jarndyce, whatever is left will be what falls to Krook.
Reading this scene I was reminded of Macbeth’s encounter with the witches who foretell his fate. Eerily Shakespearean!
Chapter 6
By the end of this chapter, I’m becoming apprehensive concerning Esther’s
future. Her empathetic nature, her natural goodness and her sense of duty are
likely to be her undoing. She may well, time and again fall victim to the
charming nebbishes of this world such as Skimpole — or to the more sinister
schemers, especially lawyers.
Furthermore, seeing Jarndyce in his natural environment, it’s quite apparent
that he’s the sort of fellow who would be quite helpless when falling into the
clutches of the Chancery cartel. The means whereby that horde of solicitors has
managed to keep the ghastly lawsuit going for several generations, and thereby
bleed their clients dry, may be attributable to a weakness in character of the
entire Jarndyce clan, making them easy pickings. Dickens seems to be preparing
the groundwork for a pretty tragedy …..
Chapter 7
Right from the beginning of this chapter, Dickens goes to some lengths to
create an atmosphere of mystery and gloom. But he then interjects a note of
humor, with his description of Mrs. Rouncewell: “if her stays should turn out
when she dies to have been a broad old-fashioned family fire grate, nobody who
knows her would have cause to be surprised”; and his pointed observations
concerning Sir Leicester’s perception of both his own infallibility and the
nature of his standing in the social order: “He supposes all his dependents to
be utterly bereft of individual characters, intentions or opinions, and is
persuaded that he was born to supersede the necessity of their having any. If
he were to make a discovery to the contrary, he would be simply stunned — would
never recover himself most likely, except to gasp and die.” In this very short passage,
Dickens sums up, with devastating wit, the mindset of the English landed gentry
of his day.
But the humor is short lived. A gothic pall soon descends, enhanced by the
suspicious arrival of Mr. Guppy, a fellow of highly questionable intentions, since
he seems to be arriving under false pretenses, misrepresents his professional status
and conveniently omits to reveal the identity of the young man accompanying
him. His strange preoccupation with a portrait of Lady Leicester, a person he
has never met, raises more questions. After he departs, the tale of the Ghost’s
Walk introduces further mystery and wraps up a gothic chapter.
Chapter 8
Jarndyce has invented a marvelous word: Wiglomeration! A perfectly conceived term
that captures the pernicious process that the lawyers have created, whereby the
client is entangled in a swirling agglomeration of bewigged solicitors. It’s a
curse, a disease, a maze and a conundrum, all rolled into one. At every corner,
the hapless person who has once become “party” to it is faced with referrals,
affidavits, filings, motions ad infinitum. There is no means of bringing it to
a conclusion.
As if the perennial lawsuit were not burdensome enough, Jarndyce is also made to suffer the never-ending imposition of great flocks of penitents, all seeking financial contributions toward every conceivable cause. Topping the list is a Mrs. Pardiggle, surely one of the most outrageous characters Dickens ever dreamed up. She’s a supercharged version of Mrs. Jellyby. No one is safe from her demands for cash, even her five unfortunate sons, who seem to bloom out of her obsessive campaigning, like warts. Should there have been any doubt about the fraudulent nature of Mrs. Pardiggle’s philanthropy, it’s quickly dispelled by the abusive manner in which she imposes herself upon the unfortunate brickmaker’s household.
Chapter 9.
This chapter is especially rich in character development. The jovial Boythorn,
a man who constantly dwells in the superlative, is a delightfully raucous ray
of sunshine. He’s the first person thus far in the novel who seems to have
arrived at the best “measure of reform” of chancery, namely for the whole thing
to be “blown to atoms with ten thousand hundredweight of gunpowder”!
Meanwhile, Dickens quite subtly gives us a continually emerging picture of
Esther’s character: although in her instinctive modesty she refers to herself
as a person of little consequence and “not clever” it’s clear that she has seamlessly
taken on the entire management of the Jarndyce household with remarkable self-assurance.
Her poise is further demonstrated by the manner in which she skillfully turns
aside the unexpected and unwelcome declarations of that minor nuisance, Guppy. He
certainly has a fixation upon Esther, along with a breathless sense of his own
upward mobility; a panting puppy with visions of becoming a big dog. Whether we
should take him seriously or not remains unclear.
Chapter 10
Dickens manages to convey a great deal of insight into the nature of his
characters in remarkably few words (and has a lot of fun in doing so). Mrs.
Snagsby is “something too violently compressed about the waist, and with a nose
like a sharp autumn evening, inclining to be frosty at the end.” The origin of
both her compressed figure and her flinty personality is rumored to have been
her mother’s single-minded actions in lacing her up every morning “with her
maternal foot against the bed-post for a stronger hold and purchase.”
In common with Mr. Jellyby, Mr. Snagsby finds himself entirely under the toe of his wife and seems to have become quite accustomed to his state of subjugation. I cannot help wondering whether the frequent recurrence of such hellish women as Pardiggle, Jellyby and Snagsby, in company with submissive men, is evidence of Dickens having run afoul of weak and ineffectual men; is he pointing up what he perceives as a character flaw in men of his acquaintance, that their weakness encourages their women in their aggressive, shrewish behavior?
In Dickens’ day of course nothing resembling a photocopier existed; every document that required copies to be made had to be individually hand written by copyists or clerks. The work was often “sent out” — in this case to a stationer who in turn sublet the job to a third party. This clearly raises the issue of confidentiality (in fact, a lack thereof). Which appears to be in stark conflict with Tulkinghorn’s character and habits of secrecy “An oyster of the old school, whom nobody can open.” Little wonder that rumor is rampant and supposedly private affairs such as that of Jarndyce and Jarndyce are bruited about in the shops and streets, such that some completely uninvolved person like Krook is troublingly well informed. There’s a serious disconnect here.
