Group Reading of "Bleak House" Chapters 11 - 19

Chapter 11
A deeply cynical commentary on the life and untimely death of a poor and wretched person. Young Jo, the lone witness whose testimony might have at least shed a faint life upon the character of the poor nameless fellow was summarily denied an opportunity to speak. Nameless he remains, and is unceremoniously buried in a leftover corner, soon to be forgotten.

 The discovery of a corpse attracts a collection of onlookers. The “usual suspects” have been summoned: first a doctor, whose only contribution is to confirm death (he must get home to his supper); a policeman simply stands at the doorway; the “feeble minded” beadle, whose sole desire is that his participation receive good publicity; the coroner, who wishes to wrap things up as quickly as possible but wastes everyone’s time hearing the prattle of Mrs. Pepper, who has nothing whatever of use to say. The beadle is satisfied: the public chroniclers have given his participation favorable mention in their report — which will, of course contain nothing at all about the identity or personality of the deceased.

Meanwhile, I wonder what Tulkinghorn has been up to. What might he have “picked up” in passing; and what has he said to the coroner that may have influenced the proceedings?

 Chapter 12
All through this chapter, Dickens paints a series of very unflattering pictures of the English upper classes and the political movements of his time. Lady Dedlock is constantly bored with her endless round of entertainment. Sir Liecester,on the other hand, "is generally in a complacent state, and rarely bored. When he has nothing else to do, he can always contemplate his own greatness." In common with the rest of their “fashionable” cohort, they are serenely confident of their own superiority.
The various political actors of the day — Boodle, Doodle, Noodle, etc. — while constantly bickering, are revealed to be, like tweedle dum and tweedle dee, equally inconsequential and impossible to distinguish from one another.
Meanwhile, the mystery surrounding the deceased copyist deepens: Lady Dedlock seems to be remarkably interested in any information Tulkinghorn has to offer about the man. Whatever secrets she holds may be shared with Tulkinghorn — but definitely not with her aging husband, who is blissfully unaware of what is going on around him while he stubbornly insists on continuing a petty squabble with his neighbor Boythorn. He is captive to the person he imagines himself to be.

 Chapter 13
Young Richard seems to be sure that he is in love with Ada, even if he cannot make his mind up about anything else. It’s hard to develop any confidence in his character; he decided on a medical career on the spur of the moment, with little thought for the implications of such a decision. He’s the sort of character that rarely turns out well in Dickens stories.
I’m a bit surprised that Esther (who is a great deal wiser than she pretends to be) has not yet figured out how to rid herself of Guppy; does she perhaps, unknown to herself, find his attention a bit flattering?
Dickens leaves us with a small “teaser” at the end of the chapter, introducing a mysterious “dark” surgeon — somewhat like is often done in a TV series: “Watch for our next episode ….”
Which reminds me again how cinematic Dickens’ writing becomes at times — the scene setting, pacing, facial expressions like directorial close-ups. And unlike a film-maker, he manages to pull it off without the benefit of a musical score!

 Chapter 14
Dickens is again having a lot of fun with his characters: Having been left in charge of Peepy, Caddy’s approach to hygiene consists in "wiping the dirt into corners of his face and hands and making his hair very wet and then violently frizzling it with her fingers." His drollery carries on in his description of Peepy’s motley attire.  But the pathetic state of affairs that lies behind the humor emerges as Caddy sums up her unfortunate father’s household as "nothing but bills, dirt, waste, noise, tumbles downstairs, confusion and wretchedness. His scrambling home, from week’s-end to week’s-end, is like one great washing-day — only nothing’s washed."

Dickens’ imagination gets a further workout in presenting the outrageous Mr. Turveydrop, whose sole claim to fame is his perfect deportment. "He was pinched in, and swelled out, and got up, and strapped down as much as he could possibly bear." Esther observes that "As he bowed to me in that tight state, I almost believe I saw creases come into the whites of his eyes." His deportment has enabled him to live his whole life while doing nothing whatever, being supported first by his wife and afterward by his son. I could not help thinking of G. B. Shaw’s Alfred Doolittle, who sees his daughter’s improving fortunes as a chance to sponge off her. Or even of Dicklens’ own feckless father, who exhibited similar behavior. In seeking to wed the junior Turveydrop, does poor Caddy, ever a drudge for her mother, risk a continuing life of toil to support a freeloading father-in-law?

 Chapter 15
In the “Bell Yard” scene, Dickens is at the top of his game — in his favorite social commentary mode, or perhaps better characterized as his social condemnation mode. All sorts of injustice and neglect are at issue here:
The collection agent is a social outcast due to his profession; he may be refused lodging by many landlords and is barely tolerated as a neighbor.
When the collection agent dies, the eldest of his orphaned children, age 13 has no choice but to seek work as washerwoman to support the three of them; during the day, the small children are locked in at home alone.
The children’s landlord feels compelled to forgive them during the day, the small children are locked in at home alone; their rent and must absorb the financial loss.
Another lodger, Gridley has lost his family’s entire estate in legal costs in Chancery over a petty dispute of little consequence.
Meanwhile, the cunningly incompetent Skimpole happily skips through life unconcerned about his debts and the self-styled “philanthropists” trumpet their favorite causes while completely ignoring the economic devastation that prevails in their own community.

Chapter 16
Once again, Dickens succeeds in rendering the word “fashionable” a pejorative term, denoting a pretentious life of idleness and frivolity (I’m reminded of the term “wretched excess”, a phrase that I believe was coined by Noel Coward).
Although Sir Liecester’s gout is of course an affliction, it remains on the other hand a badge of honor, an integral part of his 700 year old family legacy. While not mentioned explicitly, we are also left to conclude that the gout is largely the result of an excessively rich diet and lack of exercise — another aspect of the Dedlocks’ “fashionable” lifestyle.
The remainder of the chapter is, in stark contrast, given over to a study of Jo the crossing sweep, his degraded abode and his lowly status, on a par with the oxen, the sheep and the dogs that haunt the filthy streets. There can be no doubt about the identity of a lady who, pretending to be a servant, seeks out Jo and carefully questions him to discover what he may know of the nameless deceased law-writer, where and how he lived and where his body lies.

 Chapter 17
As we might have expected, Richard finds the rigors of study for a medical career quite beyond his capacity. Whether he will find the law any less daunting remains unlikely. The maxim of Captain Swosser, quoted by Mrs. Badger, strikes me as very much to the point: "when you make pitch hot, you cannot make it too hot; and if you only have to swab a plank, you should swab it as if Davy Jones were after you." She has precisely put her finger upon what it is that’s likely to be Richard’s downfall, namely his lack of commitment to the job at hand, whatever that endeavor might be.
Esther has always been a person who lives very much in the present; perhaps because her past is a mystery to her and she has thus far no clear expectations for a future life. She devotes herself to serving and helping others, is grateful for the support she has been given and seeks to be happy with her lot. But in this chapter, I am beginning to sense a subtle change. Jarndyce tells her a little bit about her origin and she is clever enough to fill in some of the blanks. She is intensely aware of how her unfortunate background places her at a social disadvantage, hence her troubled reaction to Mrs. Woodcourt’s strident assertion of her son’s birthright. There may be trouble brewing from this quarter. 

Chapter 18
There’s quite a bit of inconsequential chit-chat in this chapter — including the ongoing row between neighbors and the reappearance of Skimpole. Personally, I’m finding his presence downright annoying by now and would be happy if Dickens would find a way to do away with him.
But then, the tension escalates very quickly, when Esther and Lady Dedlock first set eyed on each other, first in church and later by happenstance while taking shelter from the rain at a keeper’s lodge. The air fairly crackles with bound-up emotion. It’s clear that we’ve reached a critical juncture in the story.
And what role is Lady Dedlock’s tempestuous French maid about to play? One more little mystery ….

 

Chapter 19
In stark contract with the drama of the previous chapter, the events here come across as disjointed, almost haphazard — perhaps in keeping with it being the “long vacation”, when all of the usual movers and shakers in Chancery court are away for the summer; court is not in session and everywhere business is at a low ebb — in tavern, court, shop and household. One might conclude that Dickens introduces Chadband primarily as a target for ridicule, a preposterous example of both gluttony and blather, since it’s unclear why the Snagsbys invited him and his wife to dinner.
Meanwhile, poor Jo has been grabbed by the local cop who is deeply suspicious of Jo being in possession of a bit of money and orders Jo to “move on”, supposedly to some other unspecified neighborhood. Snagsby is careful to intercede on the boy’s behalf while pretending to have no real connection to his situation; in fact, several of the characters in the scene seem to be at sixes and sevens. Guppy’s motivation for interrupting may have been simply an opportunity to show off his cross-examining skills. But he learns more than expected when he elicits from Mrs. Chadband the fact that she had, some years back been placed in charge of Esther. Esther’s past appears to be closing in on her from all sides.

 

Group reading of "Bleak House" by Charles Dickens, Ch 1-10

 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-19^th 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.