The Old Curiosity Club discussion

Dear Curiosities,

We are now entering Chapter 14, and I don’t know about you but for me, this is one of my favourite chapters in the whole novel because it shows the complexity and richness in detail of both Dickens’s world and character building and his way of presenting his fiction. If anyone ever needed evidence of the greatness of Dombey and Son, they should look at Chapter 14!

WHAT HAPPENS?
Nothing much, actually, and yet quite a lot: We learn how Paul is getting on at Dr. Blimber’s, how he does his best to cope with the plethora of stuff he has to learn, how he somehow becomes everyone’s particular friend – which goes for the Doctor himself and his wife and daughter, for Mr. Feeder, for the students, especially Mr. Toots, for the people working in the house and even for the misanthropic shaggy dog, whose name is, as we learn towards the end of the chapter, Diogenes. Which is quite a suitable name for a dog of the Blimber household. Although Paul is liked by everyone, most people, above all the Blimbers, think him strange and “old-fashioned”, which word gives Paul a lot to think on because he would like to be less old-fashioned, to be more like the other children, but he does not know how to achieve this because he doesn’t really know what old-fashioned means.

When the end-of-term-holidays draw near, the Blimber School always celebrates this occasion with a ball where the young gentlemen and their parents – but apparently also other important Brightonians – are invited. Young Paul gleefully anticipates how Florence will be admired by all the guests at the ball, but a few days before the event he falls ill, and he only dimly perceives what happens in his room, how people are visiting him and looking after him. The apothecary tending to him advises to allow Paul to participate in the ball for he has set his heart so much upon it, and so Paul’s dream of enjoying the ball together with his sister and of enjoying how much Floy is admired by everyone eventually becomes true. At the end of the ball, Paul says farewell to Dr. Blimber’s and to the people at that place, and he and Florence are taken back to Mrs. Pipchin’s before going to London. They have to stay a little longer than anticipated at Mrs. Pipchin’s because Paul becomes weaker again, but finally they are going to London, and when they arrive Paul has to be taken to his room immediately due to his languishing.

THOUGHTS AND QUESTIONS
This chapter being so rich in detail, I’ll only point out a couple of things that occurred to me. For starters, one cannot help but notice the general depression of the Blimber students who are not only in a treadmill in the well-meaning but ill-doing Dr. Blimber’s system, but also have little to look forward to once they are at home because their parents and families continue the system of cramming. Is this criticism of Dickens’s not remarkably modern when you think of some “helicopter parents”? Some of the teacher in this group may probably know what I mean. – What do you think of Paul? Has he got good reason to look forward to going home?

We also hear that Mr. Toots is now coming into his property, which means that he must be of age and is no longer an inmate at Dr. Blimber’s. Have you any ideas in what ways Mr. Toots could still be making his appearances in the novel instead of simply dropping out?

The grave old clock in the hall and the rolling waves of the restless sea seem to combine in this chapter, especially when Paul, who is now at leisure to wander around the house instead of doing his studies, sits in front of the clock and watches it. What could the clock and the rolling sea symbolize? We also learn that the clock is being repaired by a workman one day – might this also have a deeper meaning with regard to little Paul?

Cornelia Blimber gives little Paul a report (or, as she calls it: an analysis) that testifies to his being ”singular (what is usually called old-fashioned) in his character and conduct” even though ”his abilities and inclinations are good” and he has made good progress in his studies (thanks to his sister, but Miss Blimber doesn’t know that). – What do you make of these words? And how can a child be analysed, i.e. taken apart? Last but not least, Cornelia will later, on parting, tell Dombey that he has always been her favourite pupil. – How does this go together with the report she has written on him? Especially when you consider that on having him read the report earlier, she tells him something horrible like this: ”’It is naturally painful to us; for we can’t like you, you know, Dombey, as well as we could wish.’” Which is even more horrible in the light that Paul has somehow set his heart on making everyone like him and keep him in fond memory once he has … left.

When Paul this about his being old-fashioned, he says that he thinks ”it must be his bones”. Isn’t that strange?

Among the people around Paul’s bed, there is also Mrs. Pipchin. Does that mean the grim old lady has taken a liking to Paul? – Later, when he is lying ill at Mrs. Pipchin’s he does not know whether his father is really in the room or whether there is merely ”a tall shadow on the wall”, which is also quite telling.

Aside from the melancholy description of Paul’s waning, the ball scene is quite funny at times: What role does the Skettle family play in this context? What does it tell us that Sir Barnet Skettle at first thinks very highly of the dancing-master Mr. Baps but then snubs him on learning what kind of profession Baps has? – Maybe, it’s also quite noteworthy that Mr. Toots, now that he has come into his property, has not automatically come into his wits – but is treated differently than he used to be.

At the end of the chapter, we find Mr. Dombey standing in the hall when they take Paul into the house. He seems to be standing apart from the group around his son, fighting with his tears but instead of joining his son, he goes into his study. – What do you feel when you read this?

Chapter 15

This chapter starts with Walter, who does not know how to break the news of his transfer to Barbados to his uncle. We learn that old Sol Gills has picked up courage to a certain degree, paid the first instalment of the money due to Mr. Dombey and that he has fallen back into his daily routines, which keep him alive. Here I couldn’t help wondering how it was that Mr. Gills could have paid back part of his debt when he does not have any custom at the Midshipman, but in literature, that’s probably no biggie, although in real life it most certainly is. Walter never wonders about this little detail but is focused on how to break the bad news to his uncle. To decline Mr. Dombey’s offer – which is one of those you get in The Godfather – is out of the question for Walter viewing the great obligation they stand in to Mr. Dombey. Walter knows that Mr. Dombey does not like him, but he still regards his going to Barbados as a duty.

In his despair, he asks Captain Cuttle for advice, but the Captain himself is at first not man enough to fathom the problem adequately and come to a satisfactory conclusion. The waters are too deep. He speaks of another fellow-seaman of his, a certain Captain Bunsby, who would be deep enough for the depth of this problem, but Captain Bunsby is not at hand right now. Walter senses that Mr. Dombey does not mean any preferment to him by the Barbados post but just wants to get him out of the way – why? – and he says that under no circumstances must his uncle be allowed to realize this. In the course of their conversation, the Captain comes up with the conviction that it just ”’wants a word in season from a friend of both parties’” between Mr. Dombey and Walter in order to clear up any misunderstandings the merchant might have about the young man, and that Captain Cuttle himself is the man to speak these words. Without telling Walter anything about his intentions, the Captain rushes off to put his idea into action, even buying a bunch of flowers on his way to placate Mr. Dombey with. Walter wanders towards Mr. Dombey’s house, musing, and finally comes across Susan Nipper in a coach, who desperately searches for Staggs’s Gardens, which she can no longer find due to the change brought about by the railway. Walter learns that little Paul wants to see his old nurse – Mrs. Richards, or Polly Toodle, as we should call her –, and it is in the following chapter where it becomes clear why the boy would want to see a woman he cannot possibly have any clear remembrance about. – Walter helps Susan find the place, and together with Polly, they fly back to Mr. Dombey’s house, where Walter sees the Captain’s nosegay lying in the hall. After Susan and Polly have entered, Walter wants to go away, but after a few steps is called by back an excited footman.


THOUGHTS AND QUESTIONS
Not only Walter, but also we readers know that Mr. Dombey thoroughly dislikes the young man, and the test also offers some hints as to why this may be the case. What do you think are Dombey’s motives for looking askance at Walter, the young man who has brought back his daughter to him and who is liked by both of his children?

When Walter goes to see the Captain, we learn that Mrs. Mac Stinger is out, attending a service held by the Reverend Melchisedech Howler of the “Ranting” persuasion. I really love the holy man’s name, but have my suspicions about his not being another edition of Mr. Stiggins from Pickwick Papers and that other guy Kit’s mother would always go to. – Why is it that Dickens always introduces representatives of religious Dissenters who are probably stricter than the Anglican Church?

This chapter gives a striking example of how the railway has changed the face of a part of London, which makes it unrecognizable to anyone who has not been there for some time, e.g. to Susan Nipper. The passage starts like this,

”There was no such place as Staggs's Gardens. It had vanished from the earth. Where the old rotten summer-houses once had stood, palaces now reared their heads, and granite columns of gigantic girth opened a vista to the railway world beyond. The miserable waste ground, where the refuse-matter had been heaped of yore, was swallowed up and gone; and in its frowsy stead were tiers of warehouses, crammed with rich goods and costly merchandise.”

And it has the interesting following sentence:

”There was even railway time observed in clocks, as if the sun itself had given in.”

It sounds spooky, but the background is that before the railway, every town had its own time, which was based on the sun, and which was different from region to region. This would, of course, play havoc with the timetables of trains, and that’s why the advent of the railway brought about the advent of a standard time for the whole country in the end. Still, in the framework of the novel, the narrator’s dwelling on these changes and the power with which the railway brings them about may have another meaning. Can you think why Dickens made it so difficult for Susan to find Polly, and why this has to do with the railway?

Last, not least, I was quite surprised to find Walter daydreaming about Florence and having such romantic notions about her. What should he care about her marrying one day and eventually forgetting him? Maybe, he even entertains ideas about influencing Mr. Dombey in his favour – for instance, getting the Barbados scheme out of the merchant’s head – through his daughter?

Chapter 16

This is a very sad, but extremely well-written chapter. It tells us how Paul, after first arriving from Brighton, is so weak that he cannot once leave his room and how he slowly withers away while he is attended by Florence, and – obviously taking turns – Mrs. Pipchin, Miss Tox and Mrs. Chick. There is also Parker Peps, the doctor who attended Paul’s mother’s deathbed, and somewhat in the background, there is Mr. Dombey.

The chapter culminates in the scene when Polly is rushing into the room and when Walter, too, is called back upon Paul’s express wish. Paul is very glad to see Polly, although this would be the first time that he has ever consciously seen her, and he is also very delighted to have Walter at his deathbed. He even entreats his father never to forget Walter because, as he says, he likes him.

THOUGHTS AND QUESTIONS

Little Paul’s death is certainly a very moving scene, and even Mrs. Pipchin, the lady of the hard grey eye, is doubtless affected with grief. How does Mr. Dombey cope with his son’s waning? Do you think it is the boy or his future plans he is most sorry for? What do you make of Mr. Dombey’s behaviour at his son’s sickbed?


I have always asked myself what exactly it is that young Paul is suffering from. Does the text give any hints at the nature of the disease that plagues Paul?

Florence, and Walter – and last, not least Polly Toodle, a woman whom he told it was unnecessary and even undesirable that she should allow any tender feelings to grow inside her for the boy she was nursing, and who, on coming in, evidently was full of motherly feelings towards the boy she had not seen for such a long time --- all these people seem to be very near Paul when he is dying, but it is his father whom he mistakes for a dark shadow and of whom he is even afraid, sometimes, not recognizing him for his father, which Mr. Dombey – ”’My own boy! Don’t you know me?’” – notices with dismay and consternation. – What might these observations create within Mr. Dombey? How will he obey Paul’s appeal to “think of Walter”? Will he refrain from sending his young employee on an errand that is not a promotion but rather a badly-disguised form of exile?

What do you think of the river imagery in this chapter? For example in these quotations:

”His fancy had a strange tendency to wander to the river, which he knew was flowing through the great city; and now he thought how black it was, and how deep it would look, reflecting the hosts of stars – and more than all, how steadily it rolled away to meet the sea.”

“His only trouble was, the swift and rapid river. He felt forced, sometimes, to try to stop it – to stem it with his childish hands – or choke its way with sand – and when he saw it coming on, resistless, he cried out! But a word from Florence, who was always at his side, restored him to himself; and leaning his poor head upon her breast, he told Floy of his dream, and smiled.”

One of the most puzzling things Paul says in the novel are, to me, his words, ”’[…] Floy, are we all dead, except you?’” Any ideas as to what he might mean?

The chapter also seems to give an answer to the looming question as to what was behind Paul’s being so “old-fashioned”. – Are you satisfied with the narrator’s suggestion, which can be captured in the following quotation:

”The golden ripple on the wall came back again, and nothing else stirred in the room. The old, old fashion! The fashion that came in with our first garments, and will last unchanged until our race has run its course, and the wide firmament is rolled up like a scroll. The old, old fashion – Death!“

One of my edition ends in the words: ”Oh thank GOD, all who see it, for that older fashion yet, of Immortality! And look upon us, angels of young children, with regards not quite estranged, when the swift river bears us to the ocean!” The other has Miss Tox exclaim, ”’Dear me, dear me! To think […] that Dombey and Son should be a Daughter after all!’” Miss Tox’s comment was generally left out in later editions, probably at Dickens’s behest. Which of the two endings do you like more, and why?

Tristram wrote: "Here I couldn’t help wondering how it was that Mr. Gills could have paid back part of his debt....."

I never thought of that, how did he pay it? Now that will drive me crazy since I never could figure out how they got by without money in the first place.

Tristram wrote: "When Paul this about his being old-fashioned, he says that he thinks ”it must be his bones”. Isn’t that strange?"

I've always found it strange for each and every person to call Paul "old fashioned" which must have a different meaning to Dickens than it does to me.

Tristram wrote: "What do you think of Paul? Has he got good reason to look forward to going home?"

My first response would be no, he would be going home to a cold home to a father who shows his love in a strange way, Mrs. Chick and Miss Tox. At least at the school all the boys seem to like him and even take care of him. But it is only by going home that he can spend every minute with Florence, and that is what he wants more than anything else. I also think that he thinks he will never come back.

Kim wrote: "Tristram wrote: "Here I couldn’t help wondering how it was that Mr. Gills could have paid back part of his debt....."

I never thought of that, how did he pay it? Now that will drive me crazy since..."

Maybe Old Sol Gills is doing shady business after all - the seemingly innocent uncle could be a resurrection man.

Like Paul, I don't know what old-fashioned means either, but they clearly view it as a bad thing. The last line, "the old, old fashion - Death" helped clarify it for me. It appears to be the mark of death for poor little Paul.

I've not read all yet, so I'll skip a lot at first. Let's say I couldn't wrap my mind around reading as much as I'd have liked to.

What struck me most was the end of chapter 14. Dombey went into his own rooms very silently, was pointed out, and after that Paul specifically asked if his father had been crying. It appeared to me that Floy showed quite some hesitation before she answered 'no', as if he had been crying, and she wanted to spare Paul from knowing how serious his illness was - for if Dombey cries, it's bad. But perhaps I read too much into it, because there still was a spark of hope in my chest that Dombey would experience emotions about his children, real ones.

Oh and I never was a real teacher, only a student who dropped out because teaching is harder than it seems, especially if you're an undiagnosed autistic person xD But I dud laugh at your mention of helicopter parents, Tristram. Imagine here people have their kids go to summer school - which wasn't a thing in my youth - before the last grade of primary school, hoping they will do better at the last national test which has more and more weight in which secondary school they go to. Those kind of people will have their kids at least at a havo (probably like the Hauptschule in Germany, Tristram), and preferably at vwo/gymnasium, with which you can go to university. Vmbo/practical school is not an option for these people, while the more theoretical layer of this type of school is where the average kid usually goes. And it's not like doing the right secondary school says something about success. I'm a university-multiple-times-dropout, one of my cousins is filthy rich and happy with his job after doing practical school. But yes, I've seen the results of helicopter parents, and often it's not pretty.

Alissa wrote: "It appears to be the mark of death for poor little Paul."

I found that passage extremely eerie, Alissa. That superstitous Mrs. Wickam was right, in some twisted kind of way.

Jantine wrote: "Oh and I never was a real teacher, only a student who dropped out because teaching is harder than it seems, especially if you're an undiagnosed autistic person xD But I dud laugh at your mention of..."

I happen to be not only a teacher but also a teacher-trainer, and in that capacity, I get to hear even more stories about helicopter parents. I sometimes have them in my speaking hours, e.g. one mother who told me that the German school system is inefficient because it wastes so many valuable years - nursery school - in which the children could learn real maths and foreign languages. When I said that in playing children learned a lot, she just rolled her eyes, which I took as a sign that nobody had played with her that much when she was a child. - I make a point of playing board and card games with my children and of encouraging them to do so with others. I think that teaches good memory, tactics, manners and social skills.

Even better, I ramped up my own math skills again just by playing dungeons and dragons - in the heat of an epic fight you simply don't want to lose momentum by having to take out a calculator xD It probably is the same for kids.

Tristram wrote: "One of my edition ends in the words: ”Oh thank GOD, all who see it, for that older fashion yet, of Immortality! And look upon us, angels of young children, with regards not quite estranged, when the swift river bears us to the ocean!” The other has Miss Tox exclaim, ”’Dear me, dear me! To think […] that Dombey and Son should be a Daughter after all!’” Miss Tox’s comment was generally left out in later editions, probably at Dickens’s behest. Which of the two endings do you like more, and why?"

My edition, the Gutenberg one, has both.
Perhaps with medicine and hygiene taking a flight, the child death rate at this age was not as common as it was, especially with the upper class, although it was still very high from our point of view, So a child dying young would have been old-fashioned in that sense, and so Dickens did quite some foreshadowing. Although Paul also seemed to be what people nowadays would call an 'old soul'.

I shuddered how Tox was there, not saying anything about a child dying, but how unfortunate it was for the firm that 'and son' were 'and daughter' after all. Nothing about Floy losing a brother, Dombey losing a child or Chick losing a nephew, nothing about little Paul himself, it was immediately about the firm. The heartless b*tch!

The second one is the one I like best. It seems so much like someone, although I can here it from Mrs. Chick's mouth before Miss Tox's, would say, or think at least. It seems that's all any of the Dombey gang ever thought of, Dombey & Son, the firm not the child. The child wasn't a real person, he was & Son, the firm. The only people in the book so far that care or cared for Paul as a child or Florence seem to be her mother, Mrs. Toodle, Susan Nipper, Walter, and his uncle. Florence doesn't even exist for the rest of them.

Tristram wrote: "I happen to be not only a teacher but also a teacher-trainer"

Every time you say something like that I am amazed what good friends we are.

Jantine wrote: "Even better, I ramped up my own math skills again just by playing dungeons and dragons - in the heat of an epic fight you simply don't want to lose momentum by having to take out a calculator xD It..."

Obviously I've never played dungeons and dragons. :-)

Tristram wrote: "Dear Curiosities,

We are now entering Chapter 14, and I don’t know about you but for me, this is one of my favourite chapters in the whole novel because it shows the complexity and richness in det..."

I had never heard of helicopter parents before, but I do believe I know quite a few of them. Paul was sent to Mrs. Pipchin's because, from I what remember, he needed to be closer to the sea to get stronger. It's not the first time I remember people going to the sea for their health. Does this really happen? And if people do go to the sea because they think it will help them feel better, does it really work?

Tristram wrote: "One of the most puzzling things Paul says in the novel are, to me, his words, ”’[…] Floy, are we all dead, except you?’” Any ideas as to what he might mean?

Not a clue, I wondered that myself.

I was wondering, Smike, Little Nell, now Paul, did they all die of the same thing?

Paul goes home for the holidays

Chapter 14

Phiz

Text Illustrated:

For all that the child observed, and felt, and thought, that night—the present and the absent; what was then and what had been—were blended like the colours in the rainbow, or in the plumage of rich birds when the sun is shining on them, or in the softening sky when the same sun is setting. The many things he had had to think of lately, passed before him in the music; not as claiming his attention over again, or as likely evermore to occupy it, but as peacefully disposed of and gone. A solitary window, gazed through years ago, looked out upon an ocean, miles and miles away; upon its waters, fancies, busy with him only yesterday, were hushed and lulled to rest like broken waves. The same mysterious murmur he had wondered at, when lying on his couch upon the beach, he thought he still heard sounding through his sister’s song, and through the hum of voices, and the tread of feet, and having some part in the faces flitting by, and even in the heavy gentleness of Mr Toots, who frequently came up to shake him by the hand. Through the universal kindness he still thought he heard it, speaking to him; and even his old-fashioned reputation seemed to be allied to it, he knew not how. Thus little Paul sat musing, listening, looking on, and dreaming; and was very happy.

Until the time arrived for taking leave: and then, indeed, there was a sensation in the party. Sir Barnet Skettles brought up Skettles Junior to shake hands with him, and asked him if he would remember to tell his good Papa, with his best compliments, that he, Sir Barnet Skettles, had said he hoped the two young gentlemen would become intimately acquainted. Lady Skettles kissed him, and patted his hair upon his brow, and held him in her arms; and even Mrs Baps—poor Mrs Baps! Paul was glad of that—came over from beside the music-book of the gentleman who played the harp, and took leave of him quite as heartily as anybody in the room.

‘Good-bye, Doctor Blimber,’ said Paul, stretching out his hand.

‘Good-bye, my little friend,’ returned the Doctor.

‘I’m very much obliged to you, Sir,’ said Paul, looking innocently up into his awful face. ‘Ask them to take care of Diogenes, if you please.’

Diogenes was the dog: who had never in his life received a friend into his confidence, before Paul. The Doctor promised that every attention should be paid to Diogenes in Paul’s absence, and Paul having again thanked him, and shaken hands with him, bade adieu to Mrs Blimber and Cornelia with such heartfelt earnestness that Mrs Blimber forgot from that moment to mention Cicero to Lady Skettles, though she had fully intended it all the evening. Cornelia, taking both Paul’s hands in hers, said, ‘Dombey, Dombey, you have always been my favourite pupil. God bless you!’ And it showed, Paul thought, how easily one might do injustice to a person; for Miss Blimber meant it—though she was a Forcer—and felt it.

A buzz then went round among the young gentlemen, of ‘Dombey’s going!’ ‘Little Dombey’s going!’ and there was a general move after Paul and Florence down the staircase and into the hall, in which the whole Blimber family were included. Such a circumstance, Mr Feeder said aloud, as had never happened in the case of any former young gentleman within his experience; but it would be difficult to say if this were sober fact or custard-cups. The servants, with the butler at their head, had all an interest in seeing Little Dombey go; and even the weak-eyed young man, taking out his books and trunks to the coach that was to carry him and Florence to Mrs Pipchin’s for the night, melted visibly.

Not even the influence of the softer passion on the young gentlemen—and they all, to a boy, doted on Florence—could restrain them from taking quite a noisy leave of Paul; waving hats after him, pressing downstairs to shake hands with him, crying individually ‘Dombey, don’t forget me!’ and indulging in many such ebullitions of feeling, uncommon among those young Chesterfields. Paul whispered Florence, as she wrapped him up before the door was opened, Did she hear them? Would she ever forget it? Was she glad to know it? And a lively delight was in his eyes as he spoke to her.

Commentary:

The etching, "Paul goes home for the holidays" (ch. 14), emphasizes a different aspect of Paul's experience at Blimber's. Here, the composition stresses how little Paul, the "old-fashioned child," has become the object of love and pity for everyone in the school, and the students are transformed temporarily; rather than threatening they are here all devoted to Paul, with Florence the center of nearly all eyes. By adding the three boys at top left, greedily going for the ices and cakes while the rest of the party are engaged with Paul, however, Browne hints at how very transitory is the school's transformation under the boy's influence.

Paul and the workman

Chapter 14

Fred Barnard

Text Illustrated:

He lay in bed all that day, dozing and dreaming, and looking at Mr Toots; but got up on the next, and went downstairs. Lo and behold, there was something the matter with the great clock; and a workman on a pair of steps had taken its face off, and was poking instruments into the works by the light of a candle! This was a great event for Paul, who sat down on the bottom stair, and watched the operation attentively: now and then glancing at the clock face, leaning all askew, against the wall hard by, and feeling a little confused by a suspicion that it was ogling him.

The workman on the steps was very civil; and as he said, when he observed Paul, ‘How do you do, Sir?’ Paul got into conversation with him, and told him he hadn’t been quite well lately. The ice being thus broken, Paul asked him a multitude of questions about chimes and clocks: as, whether people watched up in the lonely church steeples by night to make them strike, and how the bells were rung when people died, and whether those were different bells from wedding bells, or only sounded dismal in the fancies of the living. Finding that his new acquaintance was not very well informed on the subject of the Curfew Bell of ancient days, Paul gave him an account of that institution; and also asked him, as a practical man, what he thought about King Alfred’s idea of measuring time by the burning of candles; to which the workman replied, that he thought it would be the ruin of the clock trade if it was to come up again. In fine, Paul looked on, until the clock had quite recovered its familiar aspect, and resumed its sedate inquiry; when the workman, putting away his tools in a long basket, bade him good day, and went away. Though not before he had whispered something, on the door-mat, to the footman, in which there was the phrase ‘old-fashioned’—for Paul heard it.

Paul Dombey and the Clockmaker

Chapter 14

Gilbert Scott Wright

The breaking up party at Doctor Blimber's

Chapter 14

Fred Barnard

Text Illustrated:

They were so kind, too, even the strangers, of whom there were soon a great many, that they came and spoke to him every now and then, and asked him how he was, and if his head ached, and whether he was tired. He was very much obliged to them for all their kindness and attention, and reclining propped up in his corner, with Mrs Blimber and Lady Skettles on the same sofa, and Florence coming and sitting by his side as soon as every dance was ended, he looked on very happily indeed.

Florence would have sat by him all night, and would not have danced at all of her own accord, but Paul made her, by telling her how much it pleased him. And he told her the truth, too; for his small heart swelled, and his face glowed, when he saw how much they all admired her, and how she was the beautiful little rosebud of the room.

From his nest among the pillows, Paul could see and hear almost everything that passed as if the whole were being done for his amusement. Among other little incidents that he observed, he observed Mr Baps the dancing-master get into conversation with Sir Barnet Skettles, and very soon ask him, as he had asked Mr Toots, what you were to do with your raw materials, when they came into your ports in return for your drain of gold—which was such a mystery to Paul that he was quite desirous to know what ought to be done with them. Sir Barnet Skettles had much to say upon the question, and said it; but it did not appear to solve the question, for Mr Baps retorted, Yes, but supposing Russia stepped in with her tallows; which struck Sir Barnet almost dumb, for he could only shake his head after that, and say, Why then you must fall back upon your cottons, he supposed.

Sir Barnet Skettles looked after Mr Baps when he went to cheer up Mrs Baps (who, being quite deserted, was pretending to look over the music-book of the gentleman who played the harp), as if he thought him a remarkable kind of man; and shortly afterwards he said so in those words to Doctor Blimber, and inquired if he might take the liberty of asking who he was, and whether he had ever been in the Board of Trade. Doctor Blimber answered no, he believed not; and that in fact he was a Professor of—’

‘Of something connected with statistics, I’ll swear?’ observed Sir Barnet Skettles.

‘Why no, Sir Barnet,’ replied Doctor Blimber, rubbing his chin. ‘No, not exactly.’

‘Figures of some sort, I would venture a bet,’ said Sir Barnet Skettles.

‘Why yes,’ said Doctor Blimber, yes, but not of that sort. Mr Baps is a very worthy sort of man, Sir Barnet, and—in fact he’s our Professor of dancing.’

Profound Cogitation of Captain Cuttle

Chapter 15

Phiz

Text Illustrated:

‘And now, Captain Cuttle,’ said Walter, handing him the blue coat and waistcoat, and bustling very much, ‘if you’ll come and break the news to Uncle Sol (which he ought to have known, days upon days ago, by rights), I’ll leave you at the door, you know, and walk about until the afternoon.’

The Captain, however, scarcely appeared to relish the commission, or to be by any means confident of his powers of executing it. He had arranged the future life and adventures of Walter so very differently, and so entirely to his own satisfaction; he had felicitated himself so often on the sagacity and foresight displayed in that arrangement, and had found it so complete and perfect in all its parts; that to suffer it to go to pieces all at once, and even to assist in breaking it up, required a great effort of his resolution. The Captain, too, found it difficult to unload his old ideas upon the subject, and to take a perfectly new cargo on board, with that rapidity which the circumstances required, or without jumbling and confounding the two. Consequently, instead of putting on his coat and waistcoat with anything like the impetuosity that could alone have kept pace with Walter’s mood, he declined to invest himself with those garments at all at present; and informed Walter that on such a serious matter, he must be allowed to ‘bite his nails a bit’.

‘It’s an old habit of mine, Wal’r,’ said the Captain, ‘any time these fifty year. When you see Ned Cuttle bite his nails, Wal’r, then you may know that Ned Cuttle’s aground.’

Captain Cuttle bites his nails

Chapter 15

Illustration for booklet entitled Dickens Pictures published by Ernest Nister and E. P. Dutton, 1890.

I suppose all that means they don't know who the artist is.

Before they had gone very far, they encountered a woman selling flowers.

Chapter 15

Fred Barnard

Text Illustrated:

The Captain’s walk was more complacent than usual when they got out into the street; but this Walter supposed to be the effect of the ankle-jacks, and took little heed of. Before they had gone very far, they encountered a woman selling flowers; when the Captain stopping short, as if struck by a happy idea, made a purchase of the largest bundle in her basket: a most glorious nosegay, fan-shaped, some two feet and a half round, and composed of all the jolliest-looking flowers that blow.

Armed with this little token which he designed for Mr Dombey, Captain Cuttle walked on with Walter until they reached the Instrument-maker’s door, before which they both paused.

‘You’re going in?’ said Walter.

‘Yes,’ returned the Captain, who felt that Walter must be got rid of before he proceeded any further, and that he had better time his projected visit somewhat later in the day.

‘And you won’t forget anything?’

‘No,’ returned the Captain.

‘I’ll go upon my walk at once,’ said Walter, ‘and then I shall be out of the way, Captain Cuttle.’

‘Take a good long ‘un, my lad!’ replied the Captain, calling after him. Walter waved his hand in assent, and went his way.

Little Paul Dombey

From a drawing by Hablot K. Browne. Extra Illustration to "Pen and Pencil". The illustration is not to be found in any edition of Dombey and Son, and forms one of a series of twelve additional portraits and subjects illustrating the work.

Paul and Florence

From: Ten Boys from Dickens

K. D. Sweetser

Text Illustrated:

"Floy, this is a kind, good face," said Paul. "I am glad to see it again. Don't go away, old nurse. Stay here."

"Good-bye, my child," cried Mrs. Pipchin, hurrying to his bed's head. "Not good-bye?"

For an instant Paul looked at her with the wistful face with which he had so often gazed upon her in his corner by the fire.

"Ah, yes," he said, placidly, "good-bye. Where is papa?"

He felt his father's breath upon his cheek before the words had parted from his lips.

"Now lay me down," he said, "and, Floy, come close to me, and let me see you."

Sister and brother wound their arms around each other, and the golden light came streaming in, and fell upon them, locked together.

"How fast the river runs, between its green banks and the rushes, Floy. But it's very near the sea. I hear the waves."

Sorry, I can't find the artists for either one of these:

Kim wrote: "Tristram wrote: "Dear Curiosities,

We are now entering Chapter 14, and I don’t know about you but for me, this is one of my favourite chapters in the whole novel because it shows the complexity an..."

I do know hay fever is rampant in my mother's side of the family, at least, with us foolish enough to live in the 'binnenland', away from the sea. My mother was born in Scheveningen, which together with The Hague might be seen as the Brighton and Hove of the Netherlands. It is common knowledge amongst us that things like fine dust and pollen linger longer away from the sea, because there's more wind near the sea. It always feels good to be 'back' (I never lived there, and stil have a sense of belonging, although more changes every year). There are also still severe asthma patients who are sent into the mountains for cleaner air as revalidation, which is kind of the same thing. Never to the sea anymore though, because of the major cities the air isn't clean enough anymore, but it was certainly done even not a century ago. So yes, it is - or at least was as far as the seaside goes - a real thing.

And for people who got ill with the smog of London's factories and gazillions of households burning coal in winter I expect it helped quite a lot actually. Not when you have a dreadful disease like TB or Corona though, although it must feel at least a bit better when the little air you can breathe in contains more oxygen.

Thanks Jantine, I never knew that before. I should have thought of the coal since it's all around me. The creek that runs through our town is called the "Black Creek", that's what everyone calls it. It isn't it's real name, but if you called it by it's real name, no one would know what you were talking about. It got its name because of all the coal dust that used to get washed into it from the coal companies. There aren't as many coal mines around anymore, and the ones that are aren't allowed to just wash coal dust into the creeks anymore, so it isn't black like it was when I was a kid, but it's still the Black creek to anyone living here.

From "The Life of Charles Dickens" by John Forster:

He was at the opening of his admirable fourth part, when, on the 6th of December, he wrote from the Rue de Courcelles:

"Here am I, writing letters, and delivering opinions, politico-economical and otherwise, as if there were no undone number, and no undone Dick! Well. Cosi va il mondo (God bless me! Italian! I beg your pardon)—and one must keep one's spirits up, if possible, even under Dombey pressure. Paul, I shall slaughter at the end of number five. His school ought to be pretty good, but I haven't been able to dash at it freely, yet. However, I have avoided unnecessary dialogue so far, to avoid overwriting; and all I have written is point."

And so, in "point," it went to the close; the rich humour of its picture of Doctor Blimber and his pupils alternating with the quaint pathos of its picture of little Paul; the first a good-natured exposure of the forcing-system and its fruits, as useful as the sterner revelation in Nickleby of the atrocities of Mr. Squeers, and the last even less attractive for the sweetness and sadness of its foreshadowing of a child's death, than for those strange images of a vague, deep thoughtfulness, of a shrewd unconscious intellect, of mysterious small philosophies and questionings, by which the young old-fashioned little creature has a glamour thrown over him as he is passing away. It was wonderfully original, this treatment of the part that thus preceded the close of Paul's little life; and of which the first conception, as I have shown, was an afterthought. It quite took the death itself out of the region of pathetic commonplaces, and gave to it the proper relation to the sorrow of the little sister that survives it. It is a fairy vision to a piece of actual suffering; a sorrow with heaven's hues upon it, to a sorrow with all the bitterness of earth.

Six days later he described himself sitting down to the performance of one of his greatest achievements, his number five, "most abominably dull and stupid. I have only written a slip, but I hope to get to work in strong earnest to-morrow. It occurred to me on special reflection, that the first chapter should be with Paul and Florence, and that it should leave a pleasant impression of the little fellow being happy, before the reader is called upon to see him die. I mean to have a genteel breaking-up at Doctor Blimber's therefore, for the Midsummer vacation; and to show him in a little quiet light (now dawning through the chinks of my mind), which I hope will create an agreeable impression." Then, two days later: ". . . I am working very slowly. You will see in the first two or three lines of the enclosed first subject, with what idea I am ploughing along. It is difficult; but a new way of doing it, it strikes me, and likely to be pretty."

And then, after three days more, came something of a damper to his spirits, as he thus toiled along. He saw public allusion made to a review that had appeared in the Times of his Christmas book, and it momentarily touched what he too truly called his morbid susceptibility to exasperation. "I see that the 'good old Times' are again at issue with the inimitable B. Another touch of a blunt razor on B.'s nervous system.—Friday morning. Inimitable very mouldy and dull. Hardly able to work. Dreamed of Timeses all night. Disposed to go to New Zealand and start a magazine." But soon he sprang up, as usual, more erect for the moment's pressure; and after not many days I heard that the number was as good as done. His letter was very brief, and told me that he had worked so hard the day before (Tuesday, the 12th of January), and so incessantly, night as well as morning, that he had breakfasted and lain in bed till midday. "I hope I have been very successful." There was but one small chapter more to write, in which he and his little friend were to part company for ever; and the greater part of the night of the day on which it was written, Thursday the 14th, he was wandering desolate and sad about the streets of Paris.

On January 18, 1847, Dickens wrote to a dear friend, the philanthropist Angela Burdett-Coutts:

"Paul is dead. He died on Friday night about 10 o'clock, and as I had no hope of going to sleep afterwards, I went out, and walked about Paris until breakfast time next morning ..."

Thursday Night, Seventh January 1847

My Dear Sheridan,

I am heartily sorry for the occasion of your postponement, though glad of the postponement itself. I am slaughtering a young and innocent victim--and it takes a deal of time.

So much, indeed, that I must postpone now, until a week or more is past, and No. 5 is on its way to the shores of Albion--if you ever heard of that uncommon locality. Meantime Charley considers us (I see it plainly) a pair of humbugs, and broods darkly over his wrongs.

I think of demanding my passport, in consequence of the immense extent to which the French nation makes a water-closet of my wall. If the British Lion were bred for THIS he had better have been born a jackall or hyaena, and then he might at least have got an honest livelihood out of it.

Charles Sheridan Esquire. Ever Yours

Charles Dickens

Chapter 14

"It may be generally observed of Dombey,"' said Miss Blimber, reading in a loud voice, and at every second word directing her spectacles towards the little figure before her . . ."

Man, does that bring back memories.

Jantine wrote: "I shuddered how Tox was there, not saying anything about a child dying, but how unfortunate it was for the firm that 'and son' were 'and daughter' after all. Nothing about Floy losing a brother, Dombey losing a child or Chick losing a nephew, nothing about little Paul himself, it was immediately about the firm. The heartless b*tch!"

Maybe, that was the reason why Dickens preferred to have this passage left out of later editions? After all, there is more to Miss Tox than just hypocrisy.

Kim wrote: "Tristram wrote: "I happen to be not only a teacher but also a teacher-trainer"

Every time you say something like that I am amazed what good friends we are."

It's easily explained: You don't like teachers, and many teachers don't like teacher-trainers :-)

Kim wrote: "Tristram wrote: "One of the most puzzling things Paul says in the novel are, to me, his words, ”’[…] Floy, are we all dead, except you?’” Any ideas as to what he might mean?

Not a clue, I wondered..."

Little Nell died because of being a flat character. Now, Paul is anything but a flat character, so this can't be the cause of his death. :-)

Kim wrote: "Tristram wrote: "Dear Curiosities,

We are now entering Chapter 14, and I don’t know about you but for me, this is one of my favourite chapters in the whole novel because it shows the complexity an..."

I would expect that if people go to the sea for their health, it's not only the fresh air but also the fact that they are taking a holiday, that they have escaped the stress and chores of their daily lives which has a wholesome effect on them. It's breaking out of your routine that makes you feel more alive again.

Tristram wrote: "
Little Nell died because of being a flat character. Now, Paul is anything but a flat character, so this can't be the cause of his death. :-)


What about Smike, grump?

Tristram wrote: "I would expect that if people go to the sea for their health, it's not only the fresh air but also the fact that they are taking a holiday,

Do you like your holiday to the sea? I can't remember, but when I think of your descriptions either cold weather or sun burn comes to mind, but I may be wrong. :-)

Tristram wrote: "It's easily explained: You don't like teachers, and many teachers don't like teacher-trainers"

That makes perfect sense, I think.

Kim wrote: "

Little Paul Dombey

From a drawing by Hablot K. Browne. Extra Illustration to "Pen and Pencil". The illustration is not to be found in any edition of Dombey and Son, and forms one of a series of..."

I have the good fortune to have these additional portraits. They are full page in presentation and give the viewer a much more intimate impression of the character. Yes, a couple of them (like the Paul one here) are rather melodramatic but they are great. Mr Dombey is quite stern and, of course, Florence is perfect. Like Nell.

Xan Shadowflutter wrote: "Chapter 14

"It may be generally observed of Dombey,"' said Miss Blimber, reading in a loud voice, and at every second word directing her spectacles towards the little figure before her . . ."

Man..."

Xan

I presume they are all good memories? :-)

Kim wrote: "Tristram wrote: "One of the most puzzling things Paul says in the novel are, to me, his words, ”’[…] Floy, are we all dead, except you?’” Any ideas as to what he might mean?

Not a clue, I wondered..."

Hi Kim

That’s a great question. Did they not all die of consumption?

Kim wrote: "

Paul and the workman

Chapter 14

Fred Barnard

Text Illustrated:

He lay in bed all that day, dozing and dreaming, and looking at Mr Toots; but got up on the next, and went downstairs. Lo and be..."

Yes. Time. Time is such an important part of this novel from this workman to Dombey’s watch and fob chain to Sol and the Captain’s time pieces to church bells that mark events.

Kim wrote: "



Profound Cogitation of Captain Cuttle

Chapter 15

Phiz

Text Illustrated:

‘And now, Captain Cuttle,’ said Walter, handing him the blue coat and waistcoat, and bustling very much, ‘if you’ll c..."

Kim

A great selection and variety of illustrations as always. Why anyone would want to colour such wonderful illustrations I will never know. What I fear is the fact that I may turn into a coloured-illustration grump.

What’s happening to me?

These were three great chapters. Okay, now what do we do for the next 500 pages? Dickens has just killed off his central character. What writer does such a thing? Is he crazy?

Or perhaps the question I really want to ask is, what purpose did Paul serve? I thought the story revolved around him. And what does it mean that Paul only ever wants to be with Florence, yet he lacks the will to stay with her? Is it because his father intends to slowly wean him off her, make a man out him by denying him his sister?

I'm confused. But then Paul has always been a little strange, a sickly child, and yet perceptive beyond his years.

-----------------------

Regarding what Paul's unidentified sickness may be, perhaps part of the answer can be found in Paul's disorientation.

Paul falls in and out of consciousness. Passage of time is indicated by the changing of the guard. The apothecary is with him, then it is Toots, then one of the Blimbers, then Pipchin, etc. But Paul doesn't perceive the passage of time because he is slipping in and out of consciousness; he's slipping in and out of life. He is more an apparition (or a ghost) than a person.

And like with all ghosts, Paul, with his ghostly sense of hearing, can overhear conversations without his being detected. He is not present at conversations he eavesdrops on. This happens again and again. One thing he overhears is the apothecary saying Paul hasn't the force of life in him.

Is that an illness or a state of mind?

And that's it, isn't it? No pathogen has taken hold of Paul. Paul's sickness is that he lacks the will to live, and he lacks the will to live because he has no life that is his own. His only life is the one his father has determined he live.

When Paul yearns to sail the ocean, he yearns to escape life. This is his most private wish, the one he doesn't even share with Florence. Yet I wonder if Florence doesn't understand what her brother means by his many references to sailing and the ocean?

Did Captain Cuttle actually think it would be a good idea to give Dombey a nosegay? That's a captain who has spent too much time on ships with only men.

Xan Shadowflutter wrote: "These were three great chapters. Okay, now what do we do for the next 500 pages? Dickens has just killed off his central character. What writer does such a thing? Is he crazy?

Or perhaps the ques..."

I like your take on Paul. The question of whether his state is an illness or a state of mind creates tension in my mind. I think he is a weak sickly child but can also see how his father’s domineering character would be debilitating.