The Old Curiosity Club discussion

Dear Curiosities,

It is time for our fourth installment already, time is going by so fast we should soon be at our Christmas read! Chapter 11 is titled "Podsnappery" and as you can tell we will spend our time here with the Podsnap family. We begin with Mr. Podsnap who is described in this way:

"Mr Podsnap was well to do, and stood very high in Mr Podsnap’s opinion. Beginning with a good inheritance, he had married a good inheritance, and had thriven exceedingly in the Marine Insurance way, and was quite satisfied. He never could make out why everybody was not quite satisfied, and he felt conscious that he set a brilliant social example in being particularly well satisfied with most things, and, above all other things, with himself.

Thus happily acquainted with his own merit and importance, Mr Podsnap settled that whatever he put behind him he put out of existence. There was a dignified conclusiveness—not to add a grand convenience—in this way of getting rid of disagreeables which had done much towards establishing Mr Podsnap in his lofty place in Mr Podsnap’s satisfaction. ‘I don’t want to know about it; I don’t choose to discuss it; I don’t admit it!’ Mr Podsnap had even acquired a peculiar flourish of his right arm in often clearing the world of its most difficult problems, by sweeping them behind him (and consequently sheer away) with those words and a flushed face. For they affronted him."

I'm pretty sure Mr. Podsnap is not going to be one of my favorite characters, but that's ok, he's his own favorite character.

We're told that Mr. Podsnap's world was a small one, he considers other countries to have been a mistake. To Mr. Podsnap everywhere and everything got up at eight, shaved close at a quarter-past, breakfasted at nine, went to the City at ten, came home at half-past five, and dined at seven. The Arts, Music, Literature, Painting, all of it, all the same. And now we get to the name of the chapter:

"As a so eminently respectable man, Mr Podsnap was sensible of its being required of him to take Providence under his protection. Consequently he always knew exactly what Providence meant. Inferior and less respectable men might fall short of that mark, but Mr Podsnap was always up to it. And it was very remarkable (and must have been very comfortable) that what Providence meant, was invariably what Mr Podsnap meant.

These may be said to have been the articles of a faith and school which the present chapter takes the liberty of calling, after its representative man, Podsnappery. They were confined within close bounds, as Mr Podsnap’s own head was confined by his shirt-collar; and they were enunciated with a sounding pomp that smacked of the creaking of Mr Podsnap’s own boots."

Mr. and Mrs. Podsnap are having a dinner in honor of their daughter Georgiana's 18th birthday. They invite seventeen of their "friends of their souls" but when the friends all had private engagements, they invited seventeen other friends of their souls, and checked off their list both sets as having asked and now not having to again for the rest of the year. Maybe I'll try that. As for our poor Miss Podsnap:

"There was a Miss Podsnap. And this young rocking-horse was being trained in her mother’s art of prancing in a stately manner without ever getting on. But the high parental action was not yet imparted to her, and in truth she was but an undersized damsel, with high shoulders, low spirits, chilled elbows, and a rasped surface of nose, who seemed to take occasional frosty peeps out of childhood into womanhood, and to shrink back again, overcome by her mother’s head-dress and her father from head to foot—crushed by the mere dead-weight of Podsnappery."

Among the guests are Mr. and Mrs. Veneering, and with them Mr. and Mrs. Alfred Lammle. I found it surprising that the newly married couple would be with the people who arranged their unhappy marriage in the first place. As for the other guests:

"The majority of the guests were like the plate, and included several heavy articles weighing ever so much. But there was a foreign gentleman among them: whom Mr Podsnap had invited after much debate with himself—believing the whole European continent to be in mortal alliance against the young person—and there was a droll disposition, not only on the part of Mr Podsnap but of everybody else, to treat him as if he were a child who was hard of hearing. "

Mr. Podsnap spends quite a bit of time both correcting the young gentleman's speech and showing him how Podsnappery he can be:

‘It merely referred,’ Mr Podsnap explained, with a sense of meritorious proprietorship, ‘to Our Constitution, Sir. We Englishmen are Very Proud of our Constitution, Sir. It Was Bestowed Upon Us By Providence. No Other Country is so Favoured as This Country.’

‘And ozer countries?—’ the foreign gentleman was beginning, when Mr Podsnap put him right again.

‘We do not say Ozer; we say Other: the letters are “T” and “H;” You say Tay and Aish, You Know; (still with clemency). The sound is “th”—“th!”’

‘And other countries,’ said the foreign gentleman. ‘They do how?’

‘They do, Sir,’ returned Mr Podsnap, gravely shaking his head; ‘they do—I am sorry to be obliged to say it—as they do.’

‘It was a little particular of Providence,’ said the foreign gentleman, laughing; ‘for the frontier is not large.’

‘Undoubtedly,’ assented Mr Podsnap; ‘But So it is. It was the Charter of the Land. This Island was Blest, Sir, to the Direct Exclusion of such Other Countries as—as there may happen to be. And if we were all Englishmen present, I would say,’ added Mr Podsnap, looking round upon his compatriots, and sounding solemnly with his theme, ‘that there is in the Englishman a combination of qualities, a modesty, an independence, a responsibility, a repose, combined with an absence of everything calculated to call a blush into the cheek of a young person, which one would seek in vain among the Nations of the Earth.’

Having delivered this little summary, Mr Podsnap’s face flushed, as he thought of the remote possibility of its being at all qualified by any prejudiced citizen of any other country; and, with his favourite right-arm flourish, he put the rest of Europe and the whole of Asia, Africa, and America nowhere."

Veneering is asked by Podsnap to tell of the events leading up to Mr. Boffin's new wealth:

"Veneering was more than ready to do it, for he had prospered exceedingly upon the Harmon Murder, and had turned the social distinction it conferred upon him to the account of making several dozen of bran-new bosom-friends. Indeed, such another lucky hit would almost have set him up in that way to his satisfaction. So, addressing himself to the most desirable of his neighbours, while Mrs Veneering secured the next most desirable, he plunged into the case, and emerged from it twenty minutes afterwards with a Bank Director in his arms. In the mean time, Mrs Veneering had dived into the same waters for a wealthy Ship-Broker, and had brought him up, safe and sound, by the hair."

And now Mrs. Lammle after a sign from her husband makes her way to Miss Podsnap who is sitting in a corner keeping herself out of sight and out of mind as she could. Mrs. Lammle wins the girl over quickly since it seems no one has ever paid her a bit of attention before. Miss Podsnap tells her that she wishes she would have been a chimney sweep:

‘Upon my word, my love,’ said Mrs Lammle, ‘you make me ten times more desirous, now I talk to you, to know you well than I was when I sat over yonder looking at you. How I wish we could be real friends! Try me as a real friend. Come! Don’t fancy me a frumpy old married woman, my dear; I was married but the other day, you know; I am dressed as a bride now, you see. About the chimney-sweeps?’

‘Hush! Ma’ll hear.’

‘She can’t hear from where she sits.’

‘Don’t you be too sure of that,’ said Miss Podsnap, in a lower voice. ‘Well, what I mean is, that they seem to enjoy it.’

‘And that perhaps you would have enjoyed it, if you had been one of them?’

Miss Podsnap nodded significantly.

‘Then you don’t enjoy it now?’

When it is time to leave Mrs. Lammle and Georgiana have promised to be real friends and the Lammle's leave so gracefully, looking loving and sweet. It doesn't last though when they are inside the carriage, both picking a seperate corner to sit in. The chapter ends:

‘Sophronia, are you awake?’

‘Am I likely to be asleep, sir?’

‘Very likely, I should think, after that fellow’s company. Attend to what I am going to say.’

‘I have attended to what you have already said, have I not? What else have I been doing all to-night.’

‘Attend, I tell you,’ (in a raised voice) ‘to what I am going to say. Keep close to that idiot girl. Keep her under your thumb. You have her fast, and you are not to let her go. Do you hear?’

‘I hear you.’

‘I foresee there is money to be made out of this, besides taking that fellow down a peg. We owe each other money, you know.’

Mrs Lammle winced a little at the reminder, but only enough to shake her scents and essences anew into the atmosphere of the little carriage, as she settled herself afresh in her own dark corner."

Chapter 12 is titled "The Sweat of an Honest Man's Brow" and begins with Mortimer Lightwood and Eugene Wrayburn having coffee together. They now have a joint establishment and are living in a bachelor cottage. The time is spring, but not a nice, warm spring,

"The wind sawed, and the sawdust whirled. The shrubs wrung their many hands, bemoaning that they had been over-persuaded by the sun to bud; the young leaves pined; the sparrows repented of their early marriages, like men and women; the colours of the rainbow were discernible, not in floral spring, but in the faces of the people whom it nibbled and pinched. And ever the wind sawed, and the sawdust whirled."

Sometimes I wonder if it is ever sunny in England. Jean? As they sit together talking about things such as, living in a lighthouse (which I wouldn't mind giving a try), their fathers, marrying, only women with money, of course, someone enters the room. This visitor, who we find is "Roger Riderhood" wants to make an Alfred David.’ Meaning, according to Eugene, an Affidavit. He tells them it is about a murder and a reward for information. He tells them:

‘Now let me be took down again,’ said Riderhood, when he had turned the drowned cap over and under, and had brushed it the wrong way (if it had a right way) with his sleeve. ‘I give information that the man that done the Harmon Murder is Gaffer Hexam, the man that found the body. The hand of Jesse Hexam, commonly called Gaffer on the river and along shore, is the hand that done that deed. His hand and no other.’

The two friends glanced at one another with more serious faces than they had shown yet.

‘Tell us on what grounds you make this accusation,’ said Mortimer Lightwood.

‘On the grounds,’ answered Riderhood, wiping his face with his sleeve, ‘that I was Gaffer’s pardner, and suspected of him many a long day and many a dark night. On the grounds that I knowed his ways. On the grounds that I broke the pardnership because I see the danger; which I warn you his daughter may tell you another story about that, for anythink I can say, but you know what it’ll be worth, for she’d tell you lies, the world round and the heavens broad, to save her father. On the grounds that it’s well understood along the cause’ays and the stairs that he done it. On the grounds that he’s fell off from, because he done it. On the grounds that I will swear he done it. On the grounds that you may take me where you will, and get me sworn to it. I don’t want to back out of the consequences. I have made up my mind. Take me anywheres.’

It seems in this next part of the conversation Mr. Riderhood must have no idea what he says or at least how it sounds. It did bring a smile to my face.

‘You have been troubled in your mind a long time, man?’

Giving his wine a final chew, and swallowing it, the informer answered in a single word:

‘Hages!’

‘When all that stir was made, when the Government reward was offered, when the police were on the alert, when the whole country rang with the crime!’ said Mortimer, impatiently.

‘Hah!’ Mr Riderhood very slowly and hoarsely chimed in, with several retrospective nods of his head. ‘Warn’t I troubled in my mind then!’

‘When conjecture ran wild, when the most extravagant suspicions were afloat, when half a dozen innocent people might have been laid by the heels any hour in the day!’ said Mortimer, almost warming.

‘Hah!’ Mr Riderhood chimed in, as before. ‘Warn’t I troubled in my mind through it all!’

‘But he hadn’t,’ said Eugene, drawing a lady’s head upon his writing-paper, and touching it at intervals, ‘the opportunity then of earning so much money, you see.’

‘The T’other Governor hits the nail, Lawyer Lightwood! It was that as turned me."

And now they decide that, while they think Riderhood is an "absolute scoundral" they will have to go with him to report this to the police. On the way he shows them both the Jolly Fellowship and Gaffer's home where Lizzie is sitting by the fire waiting for her father to come home. Once they get to the police station they give Eugene's notes to the inspector and after he reads them he asks Mortimer and Eugene if they would be willing to go the the Jolly Fellowship while Riderhood goes to find what he can about where Gaffer is now. The chapter ends with this:

"As the three went out together, and Riderhood slouched off from under the trembling lamp his separate way, Lightwood asked the officer what he thought of this?

Mr Inspector replied, with due generality and reticence, that it was always more likely that a man had done a bad thing than that he hadn’t. That he himself had several times ‘reckoned up’ Gaffer, but had never been able to bring him to a satisfactory criminal total. That if this story was true, it was only in part true. That the two men, very shy characters, would have been jointly and pretty equally ‘in it;’ but that this man had ‘spotted’ the other, to save himself and get the money.

‘And I think,’ added Mr Inspector, in conclusion, ‘that if all goes well with him, he’s in a tolerable way of getting it. But as this is the Fellowships, gentlemen, where the lights are, I recommend dropping the subject. You can’t do better than be interested in some lime works anywhere down about Northfleet, and doubtful whether some of your lime don’t get into bad company as it comes up in barges.’

‘You hear Eugene?’ said Lightwood, over his shoulder. ‘You are deeply interested in lime.’

‘Without lime,’ returned that unmoved barrister-at-law, ‘my existence would be unilluminated by a ray of hope.’

The final chapter of this installment, Chapter 13 is titled "Tracking the Bird Of Prey". The two lime merchants and the inspector have arrived at the Jolly Fellowship. I liked having Mortimer and Eugene as lime merchants, they had me grinning often.

‘It’s a certain fact,’ said Mr Inspector, ‘that this man we have received our information from,’ indicating Riderhood with his thumb over his shoulder, ‘has for some time past given the other man a bad name arising out of your lime barges, and that the other man has been avoided in consequence. I don’t say what it means or proves, but it’s a certain fact. I had it first from one of the opposite sex of my acquaintance,’ vaguely indicating Miss Abbey with his thumb over his shoulder, ‘down away at a distance, over yonder.’

Then probably Mr Inspector was not quite unprepared for their visit that evening? Lightwood hinted.

‘Well you see,’ said Mr Inspector, ‘it was a question of making a move. It’s of no use moving if you don’t know what your move is. You had better by far keep still. In the matter of this lime, I certainly had an idea that it might lie betwixt the two men; I always had that idea.

‘Speaking as a shipper of lime—’ began Eugene.

‘Which no man has a better right to do than yourself, you know,’ said Mr Inspector.

‘I hope not,’ said Eugene; ‘my father having been a shipper of lime before me, and my grandfather before him—in fact we having been a family immersed to the crowns of our heads in lime during several generations—I beg to observe that if this missing lime could be got hold of without any young female relative of any distinguished gentleman engaged in the lime trade (which I cherish next to my life) being present, I think it might be a more agreeable proceeding to the assisting bystanders, that is to say, lime-burners.’

‘I also,’ said Lightwood, pushing his friend aside with a laugh, ‘should much prefer that.’

Riderhood returns and the three men go out with him, Mortimore and Eugene seem to have lost their sense of humor and desire to be there anymore.

‘This is becoming grim, Mortimer,’ said Eugene, in a low voice. ‘I don’t like this.’

‘Nor I’ said Lightwood. ‘Shall we go?’

‘Being here, let us stay. You ought to see it out, and I won’t leave you. Besides, that lonely girl with the dark hair runs in my head. It was little more than a glimpse we had of her that last time, and yet I almost see her waiting by the fire to-night. Do you feel like a dark combination of traitor and pickpocket when you think of that girl?’

‘Rather,’ returned Lightwood. ‘Do you?’

‘Very much so.’

They do continue on though, Riderhood telling them that he couldn't find Gaffer, his boat hasn't come in yet though it had been expected at the last tide, but he is sure to come in at the next high-water. They decide to return to the inn while the inspector keeps watch, it being only ten o'clock and the next tide not expected for three hours. Eugene goes with him to see the spot they should come to at that hour, but on the way Eugene happens to look in Gaffer's window and sees Lizzie there still waiting for her father.

"He could see the light of the fire shining through the window. Perhaps it drew him on to look in. Perhaps he had come out with the express intention. That part of the bank having rank grass growing on it, there was no difficulty in getting close, without any noise of footsteps: it was but to scramble up a ragged face of pretty hard mud some three or four feet high and come upon the grass and to the window. He came to the window by that means.

She had no other light than the light of the fire. The unkindled lamp stood on the table. She sat on the ground, looking at the brazier, with her face leaning on her hand. There was a kind of film or flicker on her face, which at first he took to be the fitful firelight; but, on a second look, he saw that she was weeping. A sad and solitary spectacle, as shown him by the rising and the falling of the fire.

It was a little window of but four pieces of glass, and was not curtained; he chose it because the larger window near it was. It showed him the room, and the bills upon the wall respecting the drowned people starting out and receding by turns. But he glanced slightly at them, though he looked long and steadily at her. A deep rich piece of colour, with the brown flush of her cheek and the shining lustre of her hair, though sad and solitary, weeping by the rising and the falling of the fire."

And now they wait for the return of Gaffer. And wait, and wait. Finally Riderhood takes his boat to go and look for him. And the others keep waiting. We end with this:

"More than an hour had passed, and they were even dozing, when one of the three—each said it was he, and he had not dozed—made out Riderhood in his boat at the spot agreed on. They sprang up, came out from their shelter, and went down to him. When he saw them coming, he dropped alongside the causeway; so that they, standing on the causeway, could speak with him in whispers, under the shadowy mass of the Six Jolly Fellowship Porters fast asleep.

‘Blest if I can make it out!’ said he, staring at them.

‘Make what out? Have you seen him?’

‘No.’

‘What have you seen?’ asked Lightwood. For, he was staring at them in the strangest way.

‘I’ve seen his boat.’

‘Not empty?’

‘Yes, empty. And what’s more,—adrift. And what’s more,—with one scull gone. And what’s more,—with t’other scull jammed in the thowels and broke short off. And what’s more,—the boat’s drove tight by the tide ‘atwixt two tiers of barges. And what’s more,—he’s in luck again, by George if he ain’t!’

Well, where is he?

Kim wrote: "Dear Curiosities,

It is time for our fourth installment already, time is going by so fast we should soon be at our Christmas read! Chapter 11 is titled "Podsnappery" and as you can tell we will sp..."

Poor Georgiana. I hate to think of that meek little thing being manipulated by the Lammles. I hope she finds a true ally, and some self-confidence.

Kim wrote: "The final chapter of this installment, Chapter 13 is titled "Tracking the Bird Of Prey". The two lime merchants and the inspector have arrived at the Jolly Fellowship. I liked having Mortimer and E..."

How creepy was it for Eugene to be watching Lizzie through her window! It made me get up and draw my blinds. I didn't like Wrayburn before, but now he makes my skin crawl.

I love how Georgiana's birthday is an excuse to her parents "to clear off all those people who are due.'

So uncherished, unattended, She will be easy prey for the Lammles.

The Lammles are present because they have a plan.

“exchanging looks like partners at cards who played a game against All England "

The card game motif continues:

“The Lammles were so fond of the dear Veneerings that they could not for some time detach themselves from those excellent friends; but at length, either a very open smile on Mr Lammle's part, or a very secret elevation of one of his gingerous eyebrows—certainly the one or the other—seemed to say to Mrs Lammle 'Why don't you play?' And so, looking about her, she saw Miss Podsnap, and seeming to say responsively, 'That card?' and to be answered, 'Yes,' went and sat beside Miss Podsnap.”

We don't know what the Lammles are up to, but here they fine-tune their plan in whispers under the pretense of newlywed intimacy:

"While these solemnities were in progress, Mr Alfred Lammle (most loving of husbands) approached the chair of Mrs Alfred Lammle (most loving of wives), and bending over the back of it, trifled for some few seconds with Mrs Lammle's bracelet. Slightly in contrast with this brief airy toying, one might have noticed a certain dark attention in Mrs Lammle's face as she said some words with her eyes on Mr Lammle's waistcoat, and seemed in return to receive some lesson. But it was all done as a breath passes from a mirror.”

And in privacy there is ...Surprise!...no newlywed intimacy at all:

“Keep close to that idiot girl. Keep her under your thumb. You have her fast, and you are not to let her go. Do you hear?'

'I hear you."

“I foresee there is money to be made out of this, besides taking that fellow down a peg. We owe each other money, you know.”

Kim wrote: "Dear Curiosities,

It is time for our fourth installment already, time is going by so fast we should soon be at our Christmas read! Chapter 11 is titled "Podsnappery" and as you can tell we will sp..."

Kim

I truly enjoy your personal comments with the analysis..."soon be at our Christmas read ..." [Podsnap]] is his own favourite character" Concerning inviting guests "maybe I'll try that." Delightful.

That was some dinner/birthday party. The Podsnaps, the Lammles and the Veneerings. Three of Dickens's most loathsome couples in the same place at the same time. Dickens creates so many comparisons and contrasts within these groupings. We have the always wealthy Podsnaps contrasting with the newly wed but never had a penny Lammles. The Podsnaps have a daughter who is totally out of touch with the world and is falling into the avaricious too worldly clutches of the Lammles. More fireworks to come.

Each of these three couples represent a trope of social standing and convention. Each is, at once, in some ways, both totally aware of and totally innocent of the true nature of the other. Each group of couples operates in their own orbit of reality and I can't help but think that at some time these planets will collide in some manner.

LindaH wrote: "We don't know what the Lammles are up to, but here they fine-tune their plan in whispers under the pretense of newlywed intimacy:

"While these solemnities were in progress, Mr Alfred Lammle (most ..."

Linda

I think you are spot on with your comments. The phrase "We owe each other money, you know" is chilling. The points you make suggest that OMF is a rather bitter novel. I agree. Since we are nearly at the end of our (first) Dickens read through I feel confident in saying this novel has all the elements of being Dickens's most bleak commentary on society, individuals and the way money can corrupt people. And to think we are not that far into the book yet.

I also appreciated you pointing out the card game motif. You are right. The idea of playing a game against others in order to beat them can extend far wider than a gaming table. In OMF it appears that such a game extends to groups of people, segments of society, and pits people against an entire country.

Can this be the way to create a harmonious society or is it the way to destroy the foundations of society?

Kim wrote: "Chapter 12 is titled "The Sweat of an Honest Man's Brow" and begins with Mortimer Lightwood and Eugene Wrayburn having coffee together. They now have a joint establishment and are living in a bache..."

Chapter 12 is one of great contrast to chapter 11. We move from the sumptuous drawing rooms of the wealthy to the grungy living quarters of Lightwood and Wrayburn. When you mix in Roger Riderhood as a visitor you have a fine comparison. The world of Podsnap is replaced by the cramped quarters of Lightwood and Wrayburn. The supposed glitter of the Veneering and Lammle guests is now replaced by the unexpected visit of Riderhood.

The fact that both chapters centre around how one person or group of people try to find some advantage over others is the same. The fact that money is the keystone to all these characters'motivations is what links both a high level of society to a lower strata of society. I thought of Lady Dedlock from BH. She and Nemo linked by the sweeper Jo.

Re line Kim quoted, "The wind sawed, and the sawdust whirled.": I'm not sure what it refers to. The paper currency transactions across London? It is followed soon by this reference to Money:

“That mysterious paper currency which circulates in London when the wind blows, gyrated here and there and everywhere. Whence can it come, whither can it go? It hangs on every bush, flutters in every tree, is caught flying by the electric wires, haunts every enclosure, drinks at every pump, cowers at every grating, shudders upon every plot of grass, seeks rest in vain behind the legions of iron rails."

Hangs, haunts, flies, flutters, cowers, shudders...what is the metaphor here?

The best I can come up with, infectious disease.

Peter, thanks for the reminder to think more in depth about the corrupting power of money in this novel. In this installment alone we have two swindlers on the move. How far will Riderhood go? The Lammles? Has the former committed murder? The text is inconclusive.

LindaH wrote: "Re line Kim quoted, "The wind sawed, and the sawdust whirled.": I'm not sure what it refers to. The paper currency transactions across London? It is followed soon by this reference to Money:

“That..."

It is a rather mysterious metaphor isn't it? Could it be a metaphor for dust? We have established that there is much money to be made if you are a successful dustman. Dust is what is left of any object - or any person. Anyone can make money from dust.

Dickens certainly gives us lots of action verbs to move the dust (whatever it is metaphorically) around doesn't he?

When you interpret the dust as an infectious disease I think you are also right. There is a horrid infection being spread in this novel. People are infected with making money by any and all means possible.

This can probably be put down as a "complaint" but I am struggling to keep proper tabs on all of the characters so far introduced.

If I was better from a technological standpoint, I'd create a spreadsheet of the characters and post it to my wall to review while reading.

John wrote: "If I was better from a technological standpoint, I'd create a spreadsheet of the characters and post it to my wall to review while reading. "

Funny you say that -- that's what I had to do with Martin Chuzzlewit! Only I was old-fashioned and wrote my family trees, etc. by hand. :-) I'm pleased to say that I did/do not have that confusion with OMF, though there are a lot of characters and story lines to keep straight.

As with all Dickens books, most of the stories will eventually intertwine, and it will be easier to keep things straight. Right now they still seem to be separate threads, and it's hard to see how they'll all fit together, and keep track of who's who. Stay with it, John!

Mary Lou wrote: "John wrote: "If I was better from a technological standpoint, I'd create a spreadsheet of the characters and post it to my wall to review while reading. "

Funny you say that -- that's what I had t..."

Thank you Mary Lou.

I'm thinking of pulling out an old looseleaf notebook and jotting down my notes/characters for each chapter. I tend to think just the act of filling in some pages in a notebook will be helpful. In the old days, it sure was for me.

John wrote: "I'm thinking of pulling out an old looseleaf notebook and jotting down my notes/characters for each chapter."

That's exactly what I used to do before I had read my way through them all. All the characters we were supposed to keep track of was impossible for me.

Podsnappery

Chapter 11

Marcus Stone

Text Illustrated:

"So it came to pass that Mr. and Mrs. Podsnap requested the honour of the company of seventeen friends of their souls at dinner; and that they substituted other friends of their souls for such of the seventeen original friends of their souls as deeply regretted that a prior engagement prevented their having the honour of dining with Mr. and Mrs. Podsnap, in pursuance of their kind invitation; and that Mrs. Podsnap said of all these inconsolable personages, as she checked them off with a pencil in her list, 'Asked, at any rate, and got rid of;' and that they successfully disposed of a good many friends of their souls in this way, and felt their consciences much lightened.

There were still other friends of their souls who were not entitled to be asked for dinner, but had a claim to be invited to come and take a haunch of mutton vapour-bath at half-past nine. For the clearing off of these worthies, Mrs. Podsnap added a small and early evening to the dinner, and looked in at the music-shop to bespeak a well-conducted automaton to come and play quadrilles for a carpet dance".

Commentary:

"Stone has chosen to illustrate the dinner dance rather than the dinner itself, perhaps to complement Dickens's text, which involves an effusive description of the epergne, the table, the silver wine-coolers, the pot-bellied silver salt-sellers, the big silver spoons and forks, the outward and visible signs of Podsnap's prosperous Englishness. Podsnap and the birthday girl, his daughter, are just left of centre, and the figures in the right foreground are presumably the Veneerings. The salon is large and richly decorated, with paintings, sculpture, candelabra, drapery, urns, and a grand piano. Consistently, as is appropriate to the novel's contemporary setting, the gentlemen wear high society evening dress tail-coats and the ladies hooped skirted, bare-shouldered gowns. As befits a social function with business overtones, the majority of the company is male; and, although it is designated a "dinner dance," nobody appears to be dancing. Small-talk is chief occupation of those assembled."

Podsnappery

Chapter 11

Sol Eytinge Jr.

1870 Household Edition

Commentary:

To exemplify "Podsnappery," the title of the eleventh chapter, American illustrator Eytinge has conflated Dickens's initial description of Mr. Podsnap and his characteristically dismissive gesture and the later description of Miss Podsnap. Standing beside his ornate Victorian fireplace and clad in respectable pantaloons, tailcoat and white vest with a studded shirt-front and starched collar, Podsnap is the quintessential mid-nineteenth-century bourgeois.

Mr. Podsnap had even acquired a peculiar flourish of his right arm in often clearing the world of its most difficult problems, by sweeping them behind him (and consequently sheer away) with those words and a flushed face. For they affronted him.

Dickens utilizes Mr. Podsnap's shirt-collar to indicate his narrow, restricted perspective and the "close bounds" of middle-class propriety in which he lives, but the text does not specify any of the details with which Eytinge has described the family's drawing-room. The illustrator has surrealistically incorporated an image of Miss Podsnap as an extension of her father's narrow world-view. She is as characteristic of her father as the creaking of Mr. Podsnap's boots:

......And this young rocking-horse was being trained in her mother's art of prancing in a stately manner without ever getting on. But the high parental action was not yet imparted to her, and in truth she was but an under-sized damsel, with high shoulders, low spirits, chilled elbows, and a rasped surface of nose, who seemed to take occasional frosty peeps out of childhood into womanhood . . . .

Finally, Eytinge conceives of Miss Podsnap in her pose and juxtaposition to the painting as being as much a demonstration of Podsnap's taste, style, and narrow-minded respectability as the landscape (presumably, given Mr. Podsnap's xenophobic dislike of all things "Not English," by an English landscape painter such as John Constable) hanging above his daughter's head."

"Apparently one of the ghosts has lost his way, and dropped in to be directed. Look at this phantom."

Chapter 12

James Mahoney

Household Edition, 1875

Text Illustrated:

"He had walked to the window with his cigar in his mouth, to exalt its flavour by comparing the fireside with the outside, when he stopped midway on his return to his arm-chair, and said:

"Apparently one of the ghosts has lost its way, and dropped in to be directed. Look at this phantom!"

Lightwood, whose back was towards the door, turned his head, and there, in the darkness of the entry, stood a something in the likeness of a man: to whom he addressed the not irrelevant inquiry, "Who the devil are you?"

"I ask your pardons, Governors," replied the ghost, in a hoarse double-barrelled whisper, "but might either on you be Lawyer Lightwood?"

"What do you mean by not knocking at the door?" demanded Mortimer.

"I ask your pardons, Governors," replied the ghost, as before, "but probable you was not aware your door stood open."

"What do you want?"

Hereunto the ghost again hoarsely replied, in its double-barrelled manner, "I ask your pardons, Governors, but might one on you be Lawyer Lightwood?"

"One of us is," said the owner of that name."


Commentary:

"The woodcut for Book One, Chapter Twelve, "The Sweat of an Honest Man's Brow," depicts Rogue Riderhood's interview with the lawyer administering the reward money in the Harmon case. The illustration makes plain the close relationship between the two young attorneys, Mortimer Lightwood and Eugene Wrayburn, and is set in their "joint establishment" — a cottage that the bachelors have rented near Hampton-on-Thames for the Long Vacation, when the courts are not in session in the summer months. Their after-dinner banter is interrupted by the appearance in their entrance-way of the disreputable waterman, Rogue Riderhood, immediately identified in the reader's mind by his equally disreputable fur cap. In the New York edition, however, the picture bears the caption "An ill-looking visitor, with a squinting leer, who, as he spoke, fumbled at an old sodden fur cap." The former business partner of Gaffer Hexam is soliciting Lightwood's assistance in claiming the ten-thousand-pound reward offered by Nicodemus Boffin for information regarding John Harmon's murder. He asserts (falsely) that Gaffer has already confessed to the crime. Lightwood has yet to offer the visitor a glass of wine (probably port) from the decanter on the table, centre.

In the original serial for part four (August 1864), Marcus Stone had not illustrated this scene with the young lawyers, but jumps ahead to the scene at Limehouse when the pair, accompanied by a police inspector, stake out Gaffer's hovel, observing Lizzie, the waterman's daughter, in Waiting for Father (August 1864). On the other hand, Sol Eytinge, Jr. in the 1867 Diamond Edition focussed exclusively on a dual portrait of the young lawyers, smoking after dinner, in Wrayburn and Lightwood, and Felix Octavius Carr Darley does not depict the lawyers at all in his frontispieces for the novel (1866), James Mahoney has six illustrations involving these solidly upper-middle-class characters, his focus being steadily upon Eugene Wrayburn, one of the book's romantic leads. In Stone's early illustrations of him, the bearded Wrayburn is casual and disintersted. However, he is clearly leading the discussion with the "phantom" in the Mahoney illustration. He has his back to the fireplace and is smoking, asbout to enjoy a post-prandial glass of port (centre decanter). The amount of ruling in the plate suggests that the room is largely dark, there being light from the fire (left) and a lit candle (centre), so that Riderhood is standing in the darkness of the entrance to the cottage. We shall see the bearded Wrayburn again in the next illustration, looking in the window of Gaffer Hexam's cottage on the river, quite absorbed in watching Lizzie. in contrast, Sol Eytinge, Jr., depicts Mortimer Lightwood as having a beard and sideburns, and Eugene merely a moustache in order to make Wrayburn look younger in a moment from Book Three, Chapter 10, "Scouts Out." Oddly enough, Marcus Stone had distinguished the two attorneys by giving the slightly older man, Lightwood, a beard and moustache, whereas his Wrayburn has only a slight moustache; as evident here and in the later plate, They almost ran against Bradley Headstone, Mahoney has reversed the portraits by making Lightwood clean-shaven. After the Crimean War, such full beards as Mahoney gives Wrayburn became fashionable for young men wishing to effect a military air
"

"Waiting for Father"

Chapter 13

Marcus Stone

Text Illustrated:

"She had no other light than the light of the fire. The unkindled lamp stood on the table. She sat on the ground, looking at the brazier, with her face leaning on her hand. There was a kind of film or flicker on her face, which at first he [Eugene Lightwood] took to be the fitful firelight; but, on a second look, he saw that she was weeping. A sad and solitary spectacle, as shown him by the rising and falling of the fire.

It was a little window of but four pieces of glass, and was not curtained; he chose it because the larger window near it was. It showed him the room, and the bills upon the wall respecting the drowned people starting out and receding by turns. But he glanced slightly at them, though he looked long and steadily at her. A deep rich piece of colour, with the brown flush of her cheek and the shining lustre of her hair, though sad and solitary, weeping by the rising and falling of the fire."

Commentary:

"Reverting to the plot involving the watermen Gaffer Hexam and Rogue Riderhood and the mysterious murder of John Harmon, Dickens sends Eugene Wrayburn and Mortimer Lightwood under the direction of a police inspector (based on the actual figure of Chief Inspector Fields of the London Metropolitan Police) in search of riverside hovel of Gaffer, whom Riderhood has accused of Harmon's murder to order to obtain the ten-thousand-pound reward posted by Boffin.

Scouting out the Limehouse shack, Eugene surreptitiously watches Lizzie Hexam, who is patiently awaiting the arrival of her father. The atmospheric scene, with the interior of the hovel but indistinctly seen, functions to evoke sympathy for the poor beautiful and sensitive girl, who has attracted the attention of the barrister Eugene Wrayburn."

"It was a little window of but four pieces of glass, and was not curtained; he chose it because the larger window near it was."

James Mahoney

Chapter 13

Household Edition

1875

Text Illustrated:

"He could see the light of the fire shining through the window. Perhaps it drew him on to look in. Perhaps he had come out with the express intention. That part of the bank having rank grass growing on it, there was no difficulty in getting close, without any noise of footsteps: it was but to scramble up a ragged face of pretty hard mud some three or four feet high and come upon the grass and to the window. He came to the window by that means.

She had no other light than the light of the fire. The unkindled lamp stood on the table. She sat on the ground, looking at the brazier, with her face leaning on her hand. There was a kind of film or flicker on her face, which at first he took to be the fitful firelight; but, on a second look, he saw that she was weeping. A sad and solitary spectacle, as shown him by the rising and the falling of the fire.

It was a little window of but four pieces of glass, and was not curtained; he chose it because the larger window near it was. It showed him the room, and the bills upon the wall respecting the drowned people starting out and receding by turns. But he glanced slightly at them, though he looked long and steadily at her. A deep rich piece of colour, with the brown flush of her cheek and the shining lustre of her hair, though sad and solitary, weeping by the rising and the falling of the fire.

She started up. He had been so very still that he felt sure it was not he who had disturbed her, so merely withdrew from the window and stood near it in the shadow of the wall. She opened the door, and said in an alarmed tone, "Father, was that you calling me?" And again, "Father!" And once again, after listening, "Father! I thought I heard you call me twice before!"

Commentary:

"The woodcut for Book One, Chapter Thirteen, "Tracking the Bird of Prey," depicts Eugene Wrayburn's surveillance of the interior of Gaffer Hexam's cottage, and in particular of his daughter Lizzie, who is awaiting her father's return. The former business partner of Gaffer Hexam, Rogue Riderhood, in soliciting Mortimer Lightwood's assistance in claiming the ten-thousand-pound reward offered by Nicodemus Boffin for information regarding John Harmon's murder, has accused Gaffer. Now, Lightwood, Wrayburn, and a police inspector, accompanied by Riderhood, are awaiting Gaffer's return. The pylon and mooring-ring beside the lawyer suggest the riverside setting, and one may see the Thames dimly in the background of the dark plate whose sole source of illumination is the smaller window of the cottage. The larger window (right), which Dickens mentions, does not give forth much light because it is, as the text specifies, curtained.

In the original serial, part four (August 1864), Marcus Stone had not illustrated the scene with the Riderhood and the lawyers that precedes this, but had jumped ahead to the scene at Limehouse when Lizzie, the waterman's daughter, sits by the fire awaiting Gaffer Hexam's return from one of his nocturnal "fishing" expeditions. He will not return. However, whereas Mahoney has elected to realise Wrayburn's growing fascination with the young woman, in Waiting for Father the original illustrator (probably acting in concert with Dickens) has depicted the brightly lit interior of the hovel and Lizzie, staring at the glowing coals in the little furnace."

Kim wrote: "Podsnappery

Chapter 11

Marcus Stone

Text Illustrated:

"So it came to pass that Mr. and Mrs. Podsnap requested the honour of the company of seventeen friends of their souls at dinner; and that t..."

That's not a private party - it's a public ballroom!

Kim wrote: "Podsnappery

Chapter 11

Marcus Stone

Text Illustrated:

"So it came to pass that Mr. and Mrs. Podsnap requested the honour of the company of seventeen friends of their souls at dinner; and that t..."

I like the Stone illustrations. In Chapter 11 there is a sense of grandeur which bespeaks the Podsnap's world. The grouping of the guests on the right-hand side of the picture seem to all be facing Podsnap and daughter. Their faces are more individually distinguishable. On the left hand side of the illustration the faces are less individually distinguishable and some are not facing father and daughter. Interesting.

The Chapter 13 illustration of Marcus Stone certainly presents a striking contrast to his Podsnap Party of Chapter 11. Here we have a single person, waiting for her father. The room is barren. On the extreme left of the illustration is a ladder. Lizzie is at the bottom of the ladder. Does she have any way to get up and escape her world, or is all now lost since she has provided the means for her brother to escape the Hexam life and household?

To me, I think the Stone illustrations form a powerful contrasting visual statement. Podsnap is with his daughter in a brightly lit room of enormous proportions. Indeed, the space of the room suggests not warmth and comfort but space and alienation between father and daughter. In contrast, Lizzie is by the fire which is the only source of light and warmth in the room and yet she is closer to her father and brother than Podsnap will ever be to his child.

Consider how we the reader must wait as the plot unfolds in these two chapters. It appears that Podsnap's daughter will soon be in the clutches of the Lammles. What will happen to her? What will happen to Lizzie's brother? Light and dark. Space and confinement. These two illustrations allow us to gaze into separate worlds.

Just as Wrayburn peers into Hexam's window so we too peak into the world of both Podsnap and Hexam.

The Stone illustration of Lizzie between the light and the ladder is striking. Her fanciful stories in the flames, or a way out.

Peter wrote: "I truly enjoy your personal comments with the analysis..."soon be at our Christmas read ..." [Podsnap]] is his own favourite character" Concerning inviting guests "maybe I'll try that." Delightful."

Peter,

You took the words right out of my mouth. These personal and often very funny comments are one thing that make me look forward to Kim's recaps and her reviews.

Mary Lou wrote: "John wrote: "If I was better from a technological standpoint, I'd create a spreadsheet of the characters and post it to my wall to review while reading. "

Funny you say that -- that's what I had t..."

I find Dickens's characters very easy to keep track of because they are all endowed with their peculiarities, with words or phrases they tend to use, with symbols or other details. I happen to be reading a novel by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu right now, and there it's a lot more difficult to remember who is who - but unfortunately I am halfway through the novel and now it's far too late to keep a character sheet.

"Mr Podsnap was well to do, and stood very high in Mr Podsnap's opinion."

What a way to begin a chapter! And then we get this, a little later on:

"Mr Podsnap's world was not a very large world, morally; no, nor even geographically [...]"

A few years ago, I would have read and simply chuckled at it but now I realize how much truth there is in Mr Podsnap. In the past few months, discussing serious political and social topics - like immigration policy, or the future of the Euro and the European Union - I noticed that some of my friends and acquaintances fit exactly into the Podsnap category in that there are certain questions and also facts they would simply wave away, arguing from the moral highground and trying to silence anyone opposed to their views by casting moral doubts on the person in order not to deal with the argument. There are even one or two people no longer on talking terms with me because we fell out with each other over political questions. In the light of these personal experiences, I can only admire Dickens's skill at observing human nature. The times may change, and the questions that weigh on people's minds, but certain patterns of human behaviour apparently won't.

This bit of Mr Podsnap's "reasoning" sounds so similar to what I have heard quite often:

"'I must decline to pursue this painful discussion. It is not pleasant to my feelings; it is repugnant to my feelings. I have said that I do not admit these things. I have also said that if they do occur (not that I admit it), the fault lies with the sufferers themselves.'"

This desire to ignore different opinions that run counter to and questions one's own convictions and the argument that it hurts personal feelings, we actually do have that at universities now - which used to be the places for controversy and a quest for truth, the place where the better argument prevailed in a discussion.

The Podsnap chapter is a treasure trove of wonderful quotations, such as this, showing how bleak Miss Podsnap's infancy and youth must have been:

"Miss Podsnap's life had been, from her first appearance on this planet, altogether of a shady order; for, Mr Podsnap's young person was likely to get little good out of association with other young persons, and had therefore been restricted to companionship with not very congenial older persons, and with massive furniture."

I just love the conclusion of this sentence.

I could not help noticing that at the end of that chapter Sophronia Lammle "settled afresh in her own dark corner", which seemed quite uncanny to me. I still wonder which one of the two Lammles will prove to be the more sinister one. There is also a hint of violence between them and I fear that sooner or later, Mr Lammle will resort to physical violence.

LindaH wrote: "Re line Kim quoted, "The wind sawed, and the sawdust whirled.": I'm not sure what it refers to. The paper currency transactions across London? It is followed soon by this reference to Money:

“That..."

I simply thought that the passage referred to the scraps of waste paper you can find in a big city, and that the word "currency" is meant both to hint at the ubiquity of this paper and to imply that money, the stuff the dreams of most characters in this novel are made of, is basically no more than so much waste paper. How quickly money turns into paper can be seen in the example of Mr. Merdle, although admittedly, he is from a different book ;-)

Peter,

Did you notice this little sentence in Chapter 12:

"[...] the sparrows repented of their early marriages, like men and women [...]"

I thought it particularly nice a comment because a few pages before we had the Lammles scowl at each other in their carriage.

Another wonderful quotation in Chapter 12:

"Such a black shrill city, combining the qualities of a smoky house and a scolding wife [...]"

That has almost Chandleresque qualities, snappy and crisp as it is. By the way, I like how this chapter plays on Rogue Riderhood's hypocritical use of the phrase "The sweat of an honest man's brow" - just one other example of how Dickens makes his characters more memorable.

I have a question: Does anybody know what "a hoarse double-barrelled whisper" is? Riderhood speaks in one.

I just came across another little passage in Chapter 12 which, like the one with the paper currency, links money with the concept of waste, of perishable and worthless matter:

"After another silence, broken only be the fall of the ashes in the grate, which attracted the informer's attention as if it were the chinking of money [...]"

And just look how Riderhood's sinister plan of turning his ex-partner in for the reward makes him seem to lose all human quality in the hailstorm which, inspired by the lust for money, he braves:

"A man's life being to be taken and the price of it got, the hailstones to arrest the purpose must lie larger and deeper than those. He crashed through them, leaving marks in the fast-melting slush that were mere shapeless holes; one might have fancied, following, that the very fashion of humanity had departed from his feet."

Tristram wrote: "Peter,

Did you notice this little sentence in Chapter 12:

"[...] the sparrows repented of their early marriages, like men and women [...]"

I thought it particularly nice a comment because a few..."

When I read these types of comments, I get a little stab in my heart on behalf of Catherine. How much public embarrassment she had to endure!

Catherine? In OMF? I'm at a loss now.

Tristram wrote: "I just came across another little passage in Chapter 12 which, like the one with the paper currency, links money with the concept of waste, of perishable and worthless matter:

"After another silen..."

Hi Tristram

Thanks for the bird reference. We seem to be beginning the novel with many references to birds, both large and small, dangerous and docile. My pen is poised ...

The reference to the ashes in the grate that attract attention "as if it were the chinking of money ..." leads me back to the manner in which bricks were made in the 19C. Dirty Old London: The Victorian Fight Against Filth discusses how the poor would collect ash in carts which was then sold as an ingredient in the production of bricks. Thus the golden dustmen who made a considerable amount of money collecting and selling refuse, as we see with Mr. Boffin, literally changed ash to cash.

As for the phrase "double-barrelled whisper" I can only guess that it connects in some metaphorical or symbolic way with a double-barrelled shotgun which, when fired, would certainly not sound like a whisper. That's just a guess ...

Tristram wrote: "Catherine? In OMF? I'm at a loss now."

My apologies, Tristram, et al. Should have been clearer. I meant Catherine Dickens. Little jibes like repenting early marriages must have hurt her. I happened to have "The Invisible Woman" (about CD's affair with Ellen Ternan) on the other day, with the scene showing Catherine reading his public notice about divorcing her, while defending Ternan's honor, and my empathy for her is fresh, so I was feeling defensive on her behalf.

Here is what I can find about your double-barreled whisper, and even then I can only find double-barreled.

1. Having two barrels mounted side by side: a double-barreled shotgun.

2. Having two purposes or parts; twofold: a double-barreled poll question.

3. extremely forceful or vehement

4. (Brit) (of a surname) having hyphenated parts

Can you figure out what the sentence means from this?

I did find one thing on the "hoarse double-barreled whisper", it came up the last time I asked switching the words around a little. It seems to be from a book by Luke Thurston titled; Literary Ghosts from the Victorians to Modernism: The Haunting Interval As to what the book is about, the title gives me an idea, but why the double-barreled whisper made the book I'm not sure. Here it is, maybe it will make more sense to you than it does to me:

"The sly ambiguity of that response only half-conceals Riderhood's real occupation: as a "river-finder" or "dredger," someone who makes money by salvaging corpses drowned in the Thames, stealing any valuables on them and then claiming the "inquest money" upon delivery of the body to a magistrate. But of course "waterside character" may also, at a symbolic level, describe an essentially transitional or liminal being or signifier: someone located on the edge of the void, a discursive element wavering on the borders of legibility.

What is most important here, though, is the voice of the "phantom:" it is this above all than encapsulates its ghostly dimension. When Riderhood first speaks, still caught in the liminal ontological space of the encounter, the not-necessarily countable, what emerges is a "hoarse double-barreled whisper:" emphatically not, that is, the transparent vessel of meaning spoken in the Victorian salon by the likes of Wrayburn and Lightwood (whose voices are never marked, remarked on, by the narrator). This "rogue" voice is thick, weighted, as if visibly clogged by excess matter, its discursive contents obscured by formal impropriety; and yet it remains only a "whisper," a spectral remnant or simulacrum of an authentic, authoritative voice. The ghost-voice is therefore truly "double-barreled," both too much voice and not enough: like its spectral speaker, it is only half-present......."

Sorry, that's where my preview ended, I hope all that made sense to you, it didn't to me but I had no desire to go look up words such as simulacrum liminal, or ontological.

Kim wrote: "I did find one thing on the "hoarse double-barreled whisper", it came up the last time I asked switching the words around a little. It seems to be from a book by Luke Thurston titled; [book:Literar..."

You are right Kim. The explanation has me first reaching for a Tylenol to keep my head even when I look up all those words.

Mary Lou wrote: "Tristram wrote: "Catherine? In OMF? I'm at a loss now."

My apologies, Tristram, et al. Should have been clearer. I meant Catherine Dickens. Little jibes like repenting early marriages must have hu..."

No apologies needed, Mary Lou! You are right: In the light of Dickens's private life, one can read remarks like those as extremely ill-placed and adding insult to injury. On a more general level, however, I think there is some sense in it.

Kim and Peter,

Thanks for clearing up the meaning of "double-barrelled" for me! I think I'll go with the translation of it into "loud" rather than with the definition that contains words such as those that Kim, and I, had to look up ;-)

Mary Lou wrote: "Kim wrote: "The final chapter of this installment, Chapter 13 is titled "Tracking the Bird Of Prey". The two lime merchants and the inspector have arrived at the Jolly Fellowship. I liked having Mo..."

Mary Lou, Eugene's peeping tom moment did not affect me as much as him drawing a lady’s head upon his writing-paper, and touching it at intervals, did...What is/was going on with him? I know Eugene and Mortimer meet Liz in the first installment, but I don't remember him being taken by her like Rokesmith seemed to be with Bella, do you? I'm trying to decipher if Eugene is being creepy, or curious about her maybe, considering how he seems to have "some" woman on the brain? However, Dickens too creates this sense of doubt in Eugene's intentions when he writes...

He could see the light of the fire shining through the window. Perhaps it drew him on to look in. Perhaps he had come out with the express intention (159).

There may be more to Eugene Wrayburn than we know at present?

LindaH wrote: "Re line Kim quoted, "The wind sawed, and the sawdust whirled.": I'm not sure what it refers to. The paper currency transactions across London? It is followed soon by this reference to Money:

“That..."

I was quite moved by Dickens repetition of these words. Having just read chapters referring to lime merchants, lime works, suppliers of lime, and all it entails; considering the dust heaps/trash piles, I thought the repeated line served as a metaphor for the industrialization of London. The wind sawed and the sawdust whirled, referring to the wind itself and some manufacturing undertaking with an unsavory byproduct that has consumed and littered the city.

Tristram wrote: "A few years ago, I would have read and simply chuckled at it but now I realize how much truth there is in Mr Podsnap...."

I love the word Podsnappery! I want to find occasions to use it in public despite the puzzled looks such use would earn.

Tristram wrote: "Does anybody know what "a hoarse double-barrelled whisper" is? Riderhood speaks in one. ...."

My thought on reading that was that his voice is like a shotgun, dispensing violence, destruction, and death, which he is attempting to bring about for Gaffer.

I stopped reading at the end of Chapter 13, so the next chapter may prove me wrong, but the ending made me deeply suspicious of Rogue Riderhood. He took off alone to look for Hexam and comes back to report that Hexam's boat has been found, empty and showing signs of a struggle. Riderhood clearly has animus against Hexam. He could have found him, killed him, and gone back to report to the lawyers. What better alibi than that he was working with the lawyers to find Hexam and bring him to justice? What would be his motive for killing Hexam? Except that we know Riderhood is lying, and that may have come out with Hexam's questioning.

Ami wrote: "LindaH wrote: "Re line Kim quoted, "The wind sawed, and the sawdust whirled.": I'm not sure what it refers to. The paper currency transactions across London? It is followed soon by this reference t..."

Your comment is helpful. The natural versus the man made. Nice use of the old English word, "saw"