Dickensians! discussion

LITTLE DORRIT: Fourth thread



Phiz engraving 1856



This is the fourth thread for Little Dorrit, in which we have daily discussions of Book II Chapters 1 - 11: the first threads in the second book.

This is a list of all the chapters in this thread, beginning with Second book's first chapter, which is the first chapter in Charles Dickens's original monthly installment 11. Clicking on each chapter will automatically link you to the summary for that chapter:

Second Book: Riches

XI – October 1856 (chapters 1–4)
Book II: Chapter 1 (Message 3)
Book II: Chapter 2 (Message 29)
Book II: Chapter 3 (Message 45)
Book II: Chapter 4 (Message 75)

XII – November 1856 (chapters 5–7)
Book II: Chapter 5 (Message 81)
Book II: Chapter 6 (Message 95)
Book II: Chapter 7 (Message 128)

XIII – December 1856 (chapters 8–11)
Book II: Chapter 8 (Message 144)
Book II: Chapter 9 (Message 158)
Book II: Chapter 10 (Message 170)
Book II: Chapter 11 (Message 186)

Book II: Chapter 1:

Book II begins, as did book 1, with a lengthy description of our new location. Even the title, “Fellow Travellers”, is the same as chapter 2 of Book 1, although much has happened since then.

“In the autumn of the year, Darkness and Night were creeping up to the highest ridges of the Alps.”

It is the end of another day in the grape harvesting season, and we are on the Swiss side of the Pass of the Great Saint Bernard, near the banks of the Lake of Geneva. Everything smells of grapes, and as far as the eye can see, all the peasants, animals, and countryside is redolent of grapes, even though what this bounty produces is merely a thin wine.

The brightness of the day is fading, over the mountain peaks of Saint Bernard:

“And now, when it was dark below, though they seemed solemnly to recede, like spectres who were going to vanish, as the red dye of the sunset faded out of them and left them coldly white, they were yet distinctly defined in their loneliness above the mists and shadows.”

Some visitors on mules are approaching the convent of Great Saint Bernard: a little monastery where these travellers are to spend the night. There are three distinct parties, and at least two of these have characters we suspect we might know. One includes “an elderly lady, two grey-haired gentlemen, two young ladies, and their brother” who are travelling in style, with all their servants. Another contains just one lady and two gentlemen, and by the end of the chapter we may surmise who these might be. The third party has four people: “a plethoric, hungry, and silent German tutor in spectacles, on a tour with three young men, his pupils, all plethoric, hungry, and silent, and all in spectacles.”

While they all await supper, one of the gentleman belonging to the party of three asks the “Chief of the important tribe”, if the small young lady is quite well, as she appeared to be exhausted. The Chief is obliged to him, but replies that she is merely unaccustomed to travelling, but is now well. The insinuating stranger presses for clarification. Was the Chief, used to mountains?

“‘I am—hum—tolerably familiar. Not of late years. Not of late years,’ replied the Chief, with a flourish of his hand.”

The young lady’s sister is rather reserved and haughty, and complains how inconvenient it is to leave every comfort behind. The elderly lady in her party: “who was a model of accurate dressing, and whose manner was perfect, considered as a piece of machinery,” said that nevertheless it was important to see these sights.

The brother of the young ladies “was dressed in the very fullest and completest travelling trim. The world seemed hardly large enough to yield him an amount of travel proportionate to his equipment.”

Very full of himself, this stylish young gentleman places himself right in front of the fire:



'The Travellers' - Phiz

This prompts the gentleman from the smaller party to makes a snide remark about “roast man” making it clear that he considers this to be very selfish and inconsiderate behaviour. The first gentleman takes offence at being corrected in this way.

Clearly there is burgeoning resentment and bad feelings between these two, because of this trivial incident. However, the moment passes for now, as the young woman with him who is “young and beautiful” is discovered to have fainted. Everyone is most concerned and the taller of the two sisters calls her maid to assist, as she is helped to her room by her husband.

The Chief of the tribe now attempts to set the record straight, and to his son’s advantage, by addressing the insinuating gentleman who remains, now that the others have left the room:

“my son, being by birth and by—ha—by education a—hum—a gentleman, would have readily adapted himself to any obligingly expressed wish on the subject of the fire being equally accessible to the whole of the present circle.”

The insinuating gentleman agrees, and admits that his fellow traveller is sometimes “sarcastic”. We learn several more things: that they are still in the first year of their marriage, they are on an artistic tour, and that her husband is an artist from a very good family:

“He may, in effect, have repudiated his connections, proudly, impatiently, sarcastically … but he has them.”

The husband of the beautiful young woman returns and tells the company that his wife is not merely fatigued, but she does have a slight bruise on her side. Her mule had stumbled earlier, and she had fallen from the saddle, although making light of it at the time.

During the meal, the host: a young Father and “the artist traveller” entertain the company with various remarks on how lonely the location of the monastery is. They talk about St. Bernard dogs and on the fact that the area is rife with smugglers, although the artist traveller has a rather mocking tone. Then:

“The insinuating traveller (who evinced a provident anxiety to get his full share of the supper), wiping some drops of wine from his moustache with a piece of bread, joined the conversation.”

He implies that the young Father who waits on them is somehow involved in these illegal activities, which slightly disconcerts the other guests, even though he is so polite and gentil.

The insinuating traveller also begins to outrageously flatter the Chief, and the conversation touches on the subject of living in a confined place like the monastery. We then see evidence of the elderly gentleman becoming rather distressed:

“‘But the space,’ urged the grey-haired gentleman. ‘So small. So—ha—very limited … the space was so—ha—hum—so very contracted. More than that, it was always the same, always the same.’”



The Insinuating Traveller, the Chief, and the Younger Sister - James Mahoney

After supper, the younger of the two sisters goes in search of the bedroom belonging to the beautiful young wife. Finding her asleep, she muses on her for a long while, saying to herself how pretty she is, and how unlike herself she looks:

“It was a curious thing to say, but it had some hidden meaning, for it filled her eyes with tears.
‘I know I must be right. I know he spoke of her that evening. I could very easily be wrong on any other subject, but not on this, not on this!’“

This does not seem to make much sense, but we soon learn what she is thinking.

After a while, the young wife wakes up, and after first being startled, is then glad of the other’s company. They begin to talk, and the visitor gives the patient a note which she has been asked to carry. It has been written by someone for the beautiful young woman, if she should ever chance to meet her abroad. She is certain she has now recognised her, but on asking, the beautiful woman does not know her story. Why should she, the young woman asks herself. And she tells the patient that nowadays she is not supposed to talk about her past any more, conceding that some of her family may be a little proud and prejudiced on that subject.

The beautiful young woman asks her to tell the man who wrote the note that she is quite well and happy, and also, surprisingly, she begs her to take back the paper and keep it, in case her husband should find it on her.

As they part:

“She had expected to meet the lady’s husband approaching it; but the person in the gallery was not he: it was the traveller who had wiped the wine-drops from his moustache with the piece of bread. When he heard the step behind him, he turned round—for he was walking away in the dark.”

She is nervous of this man, who although extremely courteous and polite in accompanying her downstairs, seems to have been eavesdropping:

“She went down, not easily hiding how much she was inclined to shrink and tremble; for the appearance of this traveller was particularly disagreeable to her. She had sat in her quiet corner before supper imagining what he would have been in the scenes and places within her experience, until he inspired her with an aversion that made him little less than terrific.”

The insinuating gentleman talks some more to the Chief, establishing that they are all on their way to Italy, and saying that he is too. But the other retire, to his great displeasure. Once alone, still drinking, he looks at the visitors’ book and reads the name of the travellers:

“William Dorrit, Esquire
Frederick Dorrit, Esquire
Edward Dorrit, Esquire
Miss Dorrit
Miss Amy Dorrit
Mrs General
and Suite.
From France to Italy.
Mr and Mrs Henry Gowan.
From France to Italy“

adding his own with:

“a long lean flourish, not unlike a lasso thrown at all the rest of the names:

Blandois. Paris.
From France to Italy.

And then, with his nose coming down over his moustache and his moustache going up and under his nose, repaired to his allotted cell.“

What a magnificent chapter! I know it's long, but I thoroughly enjoyed working out who was who :) And we have one new character - the only one (until the end) who is given a name.

Great description of ghosts—and remains—of earlier travellers, introduces the "living travellers ... an elderly lady, two grey-haired gentlemen, two young ladies and their brother" plus all their necessary entourage.

We have various references such as "Chief of the important tribe", "the lofty gentleman", "the grey-haired gentleman who was the Chief of the important party", "the head of the large retinue"(whom we have immediately recognised by his manner-ha-of speech-hum- ) "the young gentleman", and "the taller of the two ladies". There's also someone in another party who pulls at his black moustache - who could that be?! An "insinuating traveller". This party also contains a couple "still partly on a marriage, and partly on an artistic tour", "a man of family", "an artist gentleman traveller" (more broad hints here.)

I also love this irony, "the space was so-ha-hum-so very constricted. More than that, it was always the same, always the same." And of course the host of the hotel rather rubs salt in the wound, by repeating at length that Monsieur could not understand, not being used to confinement. (Or could he know something, possibly?)

The "younger of the two ladies" so impressed by the beauty of the young wife ... "I like to look at her ... I like to see what has affected him so much".

And we find we know who she is, whom she is gazing at—and even which man is in her thoughts. What skilled control of writing!

I thought it was very effective, the way Dickens refers to each character by a sort of tag-name, and it is only right at the end that we have it confirmed which each of them is (although we are pretty sure in our own minds). We read that Blandois uses the opportunity of being left by himself to look up the travellers’ names in the guest book - and to add his own name,

"ending with a long lean flourish, not unlike a lasso thrown at all the rest of the names".

This image of a lasso is fabulous—all the major characters seem to have been ensnared in one way or another by Blandois.

And near the ending, where Blandois proposes a toast to Mr. Dorrit:

“There with the wood-fire, which was beginning to burn low, rising and falling upon him in the dark room, he sat with his legs thrust out to warm, drinking the hot wine down to the lees, with a monstrous shadow imitating him on the wall and ceiling.”

was almost Gothic—very visual. The the entrapping lasso—the moustache description to clinch who this is and the evidence of the names so carefully placed for us ending with the reminder of the cell. It is superb!

Tomorrow's chapter is much shorter - don't worry! And as I remember it's all about our new character :)

And a little more ...

The Grand Tour

I've written quite enough here, but some may not know of the English tradition among wealthy fashionable folk in earlier centuries (roughly 17th - 19th) to visit various countries on the continent. It comes into quite a few English classic novels.

Warning - personal opinion in this paragraph! ... What a joy it is to read an entertainingly written account of English people taking the Grand Tour, rather than (for me!) the interminably boring one in The Mysteries of Udolpho. Charles Dickens imbues it all with mysteries!

Our side read is Charles Dickens's factual account, Pictures from Italy, of when he made this tour for himself, recording it in his Inimitable way :)

For more about the Grand Tour for upper-class English people in Society, please LINK HERE

We had a short story set in the same location earlier this year. There seems to be something mystical about this spot placed at the top of the world.

The trick of having the names divulged at the end is wonderful!

It was a surprise learning that Blandois is traveling in the same group as Pet and Gowan. He would be such a bad influence on Gowan! I feel so sorry for Pet since their honeymoon should be a happy time.

Robin, I was also thinking about the short story To Be Read at Dusk when I was reading this chapter. This spot must have really impressed Dickens that he would use it again. It seems haunted by the lost souls that froze in the snow who are still awaiting a decent burial.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_S...

Wikipedia has an article about the Great St Bernard Pass, the inn, and use of this setting in "Little Dorrit."

Bionic Jean wrote: "What a magnificent chapter! I know it's long, but I thoroughly enjoyed working out who was who :) And we have one new character - the only one (until the end) who is given a name.

Great descriptio..."

This wasn't an easy chapter to read. But like you Jean, I enjoyed figuring out the " fellow travellers". Since I read a little ahead, I know more now of our new character. I'm waiting to hear what all of you thought of her.

Mr. Dorrit's vanity is yet again displayed here. Its kind of becoming irksome. Fanny and Edward will have no difficulty in following in their father's train. Poor Little Dorrit. She feels quite lost. Her interest in Minnie Gowan and her thoughts on Arthur are some comfort to her.

I found Blandois's association with the Gowans surprising. How on earth did he manage to become a travelling partner to them. Nothing good can come out of that. I'm beginning to be worried for Minnie.

Connie - that's an excellent feature! Thank you so much for sharing it. I was worried that there might be spoilers in the last part ... but there aren't :)

Robin - Yes, isn't it serendipitous that we happen to have read To Be Read at Dusk earlier? That really does add to the ghostly, almost ghoulish, atmosphere near the start. And hopefully our side read will flesh it out a bit too. I considered all sorts of things - books about the Marshalsea, other Victorian novels featuring the Grand Tour, contemporaneous poetry, but nothing seemed quite as relevant.

Piyangie and Connie - We do find out how those characters met up.

And Mrs. General is an absolute delight :) Lots to look forward to about her tomorrow.

Bionic Jean wrote: "We do find out how those characters met up...."

Have I missed it, Jean? I must go back and read the chapter again.

No - sorry - I mean we will, in the future! The tense was perhaps a bit misleading ...

Bionic Jean wrote: "No - sorry - I mean we will, in the future! The tense was perhaps a bit misleading ..."

No worries, Jean. 😊

This was a really fun chapter! I love how obvious it becomes who everyone is through their actions and way of speaking!
Jean, I have to say I wish I could have had you as a teacher!

Aw, what a lovely thing to say Jenny :) I think we all find it easier to learn and remember things when it's fun! I know I do :)

Yes! I actually changed my final english class in high schoold from AP Language to AP Lit just because of the teacher!

Every time I read the word mustache, I think "Oh No".

I loved how the names were revealed in the end.

Looking forward to finding out more about Mrs. General. And how Blandois came to be there.

There is something I think I misunderstood. Wasn't there a small group of students and a teacher there too?

Connie wrote: "https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_S...

Wikipedia has an article about the Great St Bernard Pass, the inn, and use of this setting in "Little Dorrit.""

Thanks for the link, Connie.

Debra wrote: "There is something I think I misunderstood. Wasn't there a small group of students and a teacher there too?
..."

Yes, this bit:

“a plethoric, hungry, and silent German tutor in spectacles, on a tour with three young men, his pupils, all plethoric, hungry, and silent, and all in spectacles.”

Don't worry - You didn't miss anything, Debra! We haven't met them before. Perhaps they are put in for local colour!

Okay. Thanks, Jean. I am trying not to miss anything. But I could see them as local colour.

Or we might learn more later ... but I think that was the only party of tourists we don't know :) I know what you mean though Debra - you think to yourself, well I've worked out everyone else, so who are these four?

Hey - here's a thought. Perhaps they are the ghostly tour guides from To Be Read at Dusk!

Oh my gosh! I wondered if they were ghosts. lol

GR is full of problems today, at least for me so it took me hours to find this discussion. I don't have much to say that hasn't been said except for my surprise at finding the story in the Alps. I literally checked that I was reading the right book and the correct chapter. I will add that the Alps can be very sunny and bright and even more so at high altitude and has vast open spaces which contrasts significantly with the beginning of this book in the dark. jail as well as the Marshalsea prison.

I had a laugh at the way Blandois and Mr. Dorrit were trying to out-gentleman the other. Such posers! :))

Sorry about how many times my comment showed up. That's one of the many problems I'm having. I keep hitting post because it doesn't seem to post and then suddenly there are way too many posts which won't delete.

Not to worry - I've deleted the duplicates Anne :) Yes, it's quite a contrast, and interesting that Charles Dickens titles it the same way.

Debra - Really? Wow. You see that's one of the reason why I love these group reads, when we find we're thinking on the same lines!

Debra, I am right there with you with "mustache" making me think oh no!

Book II: Chapter 2:

A short chapter now, about our new character, Mrs. General. We learn that:

“Mrs. General was the daughter of a clerical dignitary in a cathedral town, where she had led the fashion until she was as near forty-five as a single lady can be.”

It was clear that Mrs. General needed to marry, or be deemed an “old maid”. However, since she was a model of propriety and manners, she married “a stiff commissariat officer of sixty” who matched her very well. After his early death, however, Mrs. General discovered that her financial situation was less promising than she had anticipated. This was because her husband had bought himself an annuity, and his income came from the interest of his money. Therefore rather than being the wealthy gentleman she had thought, his income ceased after his death, as the annuity was forfeited.



Mrs. General - Sol Eytinge Jnr.

Mrs. General then had the idea that “she might ‘form the mind,’ and eke the manners of some young lady of distinction”, or in other words, act as a governess and chaperone to a young lady, from a select family. For seven years she had worked in that position, for a widower and his daughter. When the young lady finally married, the widower decided Mrs. General was no longer needed, and at the same time (and for this reason) wrote exaggerated references, singing her praises. Just as before, when Mrs. General had needed references and recommendations: “it might have appeared as though they wanted to get rid of her.”

Hence Mrs. General’s services had become available again, and just at the very time when Mr. Dorrit is looking for a “well-bred, accomplished, well connected” lady, well accustomed to good society, who could complete the education of his daughters. He learns through his bankers that Mrs. General might fit his requirements exactly, and goes to visit her.

“he found a lady of a quality superior to his highest expectations”

and of course this represents a difficulty, for such a refined lady could not possibly discuss money, or even let Mr. Dorrit mention the word “Remuneration”.

“I cannot … put a price upon services which it is a pleasure to me to render if I can render them spontaneously, but which I could not render in mere return for any consideration. Neither do I know how, or where, to find a case parallel to my own. It is peculiar.”

The highly sensitive and proper Mrs. General suggests that Mr. Dorrit asks her previous “friends” what they had deposited with her bankers. But of course, since there were now to be two daughters needing her as a “companion, protector, Mentor, and friend”, then it would be necessary to add a third more to the payment, “(whatever its amount may prove to be)”, she tactfully adds.

And so the matter is settled.

There follows a description of the lady, who is indeed a model of propriety, and concerned above all with appearances, and fitting into the correct level of society:

“If her eyes had no expression, it was probably because they had nothing to express. If she had few wrinkles, it was because her mind had never traced its name or any other inscription on her face.”

Nothing should ever disturb Society’s views:

“Mrs General had no opinions. Her way of forming a mind was to prevent it from forming opinions. She had a little circular set of mental grooves or rails on which she started little trains of other people’s opinions, which never overtook one another, and never got anywhere.”

Her role was not to be a confidante, but to mould the young ladies in her charge into the correct form:

“Mrs General was not to be told of anything shocking. Accidents, miseries, and offences, were never to be mentioned before her. Passion was to go to sleep in the presence of Mrs General, and blood was to change to milk and water.”

The narrator tells us that Mrs. General’s sole function could be defined in one word: “Varnish”.

“There was varnish in Mrs General’s voice, varnish in Mrs General’s touch, an atmosphere of varnish round Mrs General’s figure.”

So after all the foreboding, mysterious and threatening atmosphere of the preceding chapter, we now we have some comic relief. Also, although it is entertaining, the very full description of Mrs. General did not demand as much concentration as identifying the characters in chapter 1, and following each of their stories up to the present moment.

Mrs. General sounds rather stifling to me! And manipulative too, craftily getting herself a pay increase, even though she was far too genteel to talk of money.

And how unusual and interesting that Dickens has devoted a whole chapter to her, with virtually no other characters. Perhaps Mrs. General is to play an important part in our story.

The idea of Mrs.General putting other peoples opinions on thier own mental tracks, to go nowhere, reminds me a bit of the circumlocution office!

Yes! Great observation Jenny! They both stick to their blinkered formulas, and never get anywhere; any expression of individuality or progress is a sin.

"Varnish" reminds me there is a society couple called the Veneerings in another Dickens book, Our Mutual Friend. Same idea of a smooth surface with no depth. Mrs. General is probably a fine companion for Fanny but in a way Amy is more mature than the older lady , having dealt with so much of life at a young age.

Jenny, "The idea of Mrs.General putting other peoples opinions on thier own mental tracks, to go nowhere, reminds me a bit of the circumlocution office! "

The same thought crossed my mind, Jenny, while reading about Mrs. General.

She "generally" seems to fit right in to the Dorrit family given her pretensions. She out-pretenses (if that's a word) Mr. Dorrit who was not pretentious with her. I think he was a bit cowed by her. I had an image run through my mind of those two getting married.

I can't wait to see how the girls will deal with Mrs. Varnish, I mean, General. Amy will be miserable but polite with her. She may suit Fanny's pretensions but I'm not sure either one will be able to learn from her, though I doubt that she has anything to teach.

Yikes, what a thought Anne! Whatever would they talk about?

Robin - Thanks for the apt reminder about the Veneerings, with their "bran' new" everything! They are nouveau riche - and the Dorrits are in a similar position - in danger of making themselves look ridiculous in the same way, with their faux pas in Society. (I'm not sure where all this French is coming from!) Another of my favourite Dickensian hypocritical couples - who so well deserve each other - is also in that novel!

But back on topic and yes, well spotted that the description of "Varnish" is similar to the name "Veneering". Smoothing out life's little problems, and independence of thought, so that everything is the same :(

Despite our jabs about Mrs General, a widow at this time has few choices in life if she does not have relatives to support her.

Jean, :Yikes, what a thought Anne! Whatever would they talk about?"

LOL. Well I guess given your reaction that's not going to happen. But what I was thinking was that this is a time when so many peopled married for financial and/or social reasons, not love or companionship . Perhaps I've been reading too much Wharton (just finished House of Mirth) and Trollope, etc. But to answer your question, Mr. Dorrit would talk about himself. and brag about who knows what. "Mrs. General" would talk about general nonsense and vapid superficialities, I suppose.

Kathleen wrote: "Despite our jabs about Mrs General, a widow at this time has few choices in life if she does not have relatives to support her."

Of course! We've been told she is 45, and no longer particularly marriageable. She needs to be a bit canny.

It's the manipulative way Mrs. General goes about securing an advantageous deal for herself in every situation, which makes Charles Dickens (and therefore his readers) so critical of her. She gives the impression of being indispensable, but teaches little of any use.

Anne wrote: " LOL. Well I guess given your reaction that's not going to happen ..."

Not at all - please don't assume that! But it is a horrendous thought at this point, I think you'd agree. And yes, those conversations would be pretty much as you say, I guess.

From the way Mrs. General was described, she is more of a social accessory or a chaperone for the Dorrit girls rather than a teacher of any kind. I agree with Anne. I too doubt whether she has anything much to teach.

Kathleen wrote: "Despite our jabs about Mrs General, a widow at this time has few choices in life if she does not have relatives to support her."

Very true, Kathleen. They had to resort to whatever dignified means by which to survive.

Piyangie wrote: "I too doubt whether she has anything much to teach."

Yes, (I said she had little of any use to teach) ... but on reflection that is our 21st century view.

What Mrs. General would impart would be a certain grace and reserve, deportment, etiquette, and all the social skills which a young lady of that class would be expected to already have, and of which they would never have had an example to copy. Perhaps she would also suggest teachers for a little French, a little dancing, and a musical instrument and so on.

This is what Mr. Dorrit hopes.

Jean wrote: "This is what Mr. Dorrit hopes."

I love the way you tacked that on in a separate paragraph . Right. I can't imagine that Mrs. General will have an easy time teaching deportment and manners to either of the girls, but for different reasons due to their characters. Suddenly Pygmalion comes to mind. Combine Eliza Doolittle with Cinderella and I can imagine Amy becoming a very distinguished lady with all the grace and manners required. In which case she will find her prince and we all know who that will be.

Book II: Chapter 3:

The chapter begins with a similar description to chapter 1. It is the following morning, and all the travellers prepare to resume their respective journeys.

Edward talks to his sister Amy, and again expresses his contempt for Mr. Gowan. But Amy does not respond as he wishes, and will not criticise Mr. Gowan in the same way, so Edward warns her not to fall back into her old habits and start nursing Mrs. Gowan herself. Amy accidentally calls him “Tip” which he does not like either. And when Mr. Dorrit and Fanny come in, they are disapproving when they hear that Amy has shown kindness to Mrs. Gowan. Fanny is in high dudgeon:

“Can we ever hope to be respected by our servants? Never. Here are our two women, and Pa’s valet, and a footman, and a courier, and all sorts of dependents, and yet in the midst of these, we are to have one of ourselves rushing about with tumblers of cold water, like a menial!”

and Tip is still resentful about Mr. Clennam. Mr. Dorrit is keen to point out the wisdom of behaving in a certain manner:

“it is incumbent upon all people in an exalted position, but it is particularly so on this family, for reasons which I—ha—will not dwell upon,”

because of their many years in the Marshalsea prison

“to make themselves respected … Dependants, to respect us, must be—ha—kept at a distance and—hum—kept down. Down.”

He say that to do this, they (meaning Amy) must never do things for themselves, which would be more appropriate, in their position, for a servant to do.

Fanny has told her father that Amy’s interest in Mrs. Gowan might have something to do with her acquaintance with Mr. Clennam. Mr. Dorrit then decides that although Mr. Clennam is “a well-behaved person”, it is best not to prolong his acquaintance with Mr. Clennam, because he has a link with the past which he would like to forget. If Mr. Clennam is so indelicate as to forget that connection, then he would show himself to be “coarse”, and not worthy of their notice. In modern parlance it's a sort of Catch 22.

Mrs. General joins them, and after breakfast, the Dorrits and their servants get ready for departure. On their way down the mountain, Amy feels Mr. Blandois watching her with:

“even a more sinister look, standing swart and cloaked in the snow, than he had in the fire-light over-night …

Long after he was a mere black stick in the snow, she felt as though she could yet see that smile of his, that high nose, and those eyes that were too near it. And even after that, when the convent was gone and some light morning clouds veiled the pass below it, the ghastly skeleton arms by the wayside seemed to be all pointing up at him.“



Blandois 'always standing on one jutting point looking down after them' - James Mahoney

Frederick Dorrit, we are told, does not have the sense of family dignity and intense pride that the other three do. He is still living in a world of his own, wearing the clothes he is given, and seeming content to bask in his brother’s new-found glory. Nevertheless, he seems more aware of Amy’s good qualities, and becomes more solicitous of her. He cannot bear to see Amy slighted by anyone. But he has “no desire to be waited on, so that the servants devoted themselves to his brother …

They were a goodly company, and the Innkeepers all but worshipped them. Wherever they went, their importance preceded them in the person of the courier riding before, to see that the rooms of state were ready.“

When the Dorrit family arrive at Martigny, Mr. Dorrit is most indignant and angry to learn that one room of their suite has been temporarily given to a lady and her son to have breakfast in. The landlord is abject, and apologises profusely:

“Thousands of pardons! It was the host’s profound misfortune to have been overcome by that too genteel lady”



The Family Dignity is Affronted - Phiz

but Mr. Dorrit will not be mollified:

“You have affronted me. You have heaped insults upon me. How dare you? Explain yourself.”

He feels keenly that his honour has been slighted and he angrily tells the landlord that he will not stay, and in fact he will never set foot inside his hotel again.




Mr. Dorrit and the Swiss Innkeeper - Harry Furniss

The grievances pile up, and the son arrives. His style of speech is instantly recognisable:

“Beg your pardon … I am a man of few words and a bad hand at an explanation—but lady here is extremely anxious that there should be no Row. Lady—a mother of mine, in point of fact—wishes me to say that she hopes no Row … Being a remarkably fine woman with no bigodd nonsense about her—well educated, too—she was too many for this chap. Regularly pocketed him.”

And by Edmund Sparkler’s attempt to make peace, we learn that the lady in question must be be Mrs. Merdle. The landlord, Edmund insists, was no match for her. Mrs. Merdle herself enters the scene, and smoothly offers an explanation and an apology, although momentarily:

“the lady, with a glass at her eye, stood transfixed and speechless before the two Miss Dorrits”

much to the enjoyment of Fanny, who is now able to confront Mrs. Merdle in a more elevated social position. Nevertheless “The lady, recover[ed] herself quickly—for it was Mrs Merdle and she was not easily dashed”. After this little triumph, the narrator says, Fanny is noticeably more cheerful—to the confusion and surprise of Mrs. General.

The lengthy last section of the chapter tells us how lonely Amy feels. She would like to be close to her father once again, and feels sorrowfully that the servants have now taken this place. She wishes she could still show her caring nature. All this now seems to belong to the past, which had been a much happier time for Amy, than the family’s new wealth and status.

There is a lot of description of the places they visit on their Grand Tour, but Amy still feels the same sadness:

“They were to live in Venice some few months in a palace (itself six times as big as the whole Marshalsea) on the Grand Canal … The family began a gay life, went here and there, and turned night into day; but she was timid of joining in their gaieties, and only asked leave to be left alone.”

Whether in a gondola by herself, or standing alone on her balcony, Amy has a “quiet, scared, lost manner” and people begin to notice her, and wonder about the little figure of the English girl who is always alone.

And Amy would look at the stars, and remember times of old, such as when she and Maggy sat at the gates of the Marshalsea, all through the long night.

I was wondering what had happened to Frederick Dorrit! I also wonder what happened to Maggy?
Poor Amy, just wanting to be free to care, but oh no the family is too elevated to do that...

I know, it's heartrending about Amy, Jenny. The emotions in this chapter seem to run the whole gamut! We are getting quite a lot about Mr. (Edward) Dorrit's inner feelings too, which seem to be wound as tight as a spring. Fanny clearly feels put out at no longer being the main "lady" of the family. The only one who might have enjoyed the new opportunities could be Tip - but he's so sulky and full of resentment, that it's spoiled even for him!

The Dorrit family seem to have turned their backs on all their old friends, and now just squabble among themselves, edging for position, and standing on ceremony with the servants. They are variously trapped in new prisons of their own making.

I did ally myself with Fanny for once though, and enjoyed the few seconds' dent in Mrs. Merdle's composure :D

I would like to know what Blandois is thinking, or plotting. He seems like a cat, observing everything. Everyone is his prey.

I also wonder what Fanny means when she says Arthur demeaned them the day they left? Is she referenceing when Amy fainted, and he brought her out in her old gown?

Jenny wrote: "I also wonder what Fanny means when she says Arthur demeaned them the day they left? Is she referenceing when Amy fainted, and he brought her out in her old gown?"

I think so, yes. Think how the Dorrit family were all parading through the Marshalsea in great State, like Royalty. And how Mr. Edward Dorrit had to take Frederick's arm, in case he disgraced them in some way! (And to demonstrate to the crowd of debtors how "caring" he was.) They took it out on Amy too, for "showing them up"!

Little Dorrit's older siblings have cast off their shabby clothes as soon as they can, but Amy clings to her old dress, and her old identity. She is perhaps the only one who remains true to herself.

Frederick though, takes her part, and can't bear to see Amy slighted. He may be living in a world of his own, but he is aware of when his youngest niece is treated inconsiderately by her family or their servants. He sees the good in her :)

There is some poignancy in this chapter because Little Dorrit seems so lost and her relatives treat her so badly, but mostly I found myself chuckling at the satire. Mr. Dorrit’s extravagant self importance and pomposity are laughable.