The Old Curiosity Club discussion

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Little Dorrit
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Little Dorrit
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Little Dorrit, Book 1, Chp. 30-32
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Mary Lou,
Thanks for pointing this out. I don't know why this happened - probably some gremlin may be behind it. I'll delete this thread within 24 hours.
Thanks for pointing this out. I don't know why this happened - probably some gremlin may be behind it. I'll delete this thread within 24 hours.
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This week’s instalment starts with a wonderfully dark chapter called “The Word of a Gentleman”. As all of us might have guessed, the strange gentleman that frightened poor Affery out of her wits is really Rigaud, who has adopted the name Blandois now. The typical movements of nose and moustache when he laughs easily give him away. Interestingly, Blandois seems to know Flintwinch because at the sight of this gentleman he blurts out, “’Death of my soul! […] How did you get here?’” – even though Flintwinch does not seem ever to have laid eyes on Blandois. This cosmopolitan gentleman introduces himself by saying that they might have heard about his arrival from their partners in Paris and he presents a letter of recommendation which suggests that they allow Blandois to draw about 50 Pounds Sterling from them. When Mrs. Clennam, from her invalid’s chamber, makes herself heard, Blandois takes the opportunity of asking to present himself to the lady and to offer his apologies for this late intrusion as soon as he has refreshed himself in an inn.
Although of a rather distrustful nature, the overbearing grandeur of the stranger seems to impress Mr. Flintwinch to a certain degree:
”Swagger and an air of authorised condescension do so much, that Mr Flintwinch had already begun to think this a highly gentlemanly personage.”
He therefore recommends Blandois a nearby public house, and here we get the final confirmation of Blandois’s being none other than Rigaud:
”The house was kept in a homely manner, and the condescension of Mr Blandois was infinite. It seemed to fill to inconvenience the little bar in which the widow landlady and her two daughters received him; it was much too big for the narrow wainscoted room with a bagatelle-board in it, that was first proposed for his reception; it perfectly swamped the little private holiday sitting-room of the family, which was finally given up to him. Here, in dry clothes and scented linen, with sleeked hair, a great ring on each forefinger and a massive show of watch-chain, Mr Blandois waiting for his dinner, lolling on a window-seat with his knees drawn up, looked (for all the difference in the setting of the jewel) fearfully and wonderfully like a certain Monsieur Rigaud who had once so waited for his breakfast, lying on the stone ledge of the iron grating of a cell in a villainous dungeon at Marseilles.”
I quite liked the clever allusion to the stranger’s way of lolling on a window-seat with his drawn-up knees and think it would even have been cleverer, had the narrator foreborne to make the direct reference to Rigaud. What I also found very impressing was the way the narrator described the stranger’s utter ruthlessness:
”His greed at dinner, too, was closely in keeping with the greed of Monsieur Rigaud at breakfast. His avaricious manner of collecting all the eatables about him, and devouring some with his eyes while devouring others with his jaws, was the same manner. His utter disregard of other people, as shown in his way of tossing the little womanly toys of furniture about, flinging favourite cushions under his boots for a softer rest, and crushing delicate coverings with his big body and his great black head, had the same brute selfishness at the bottom of it. The softly moving hands that were so busy among the dishes had the old wicked facility of the hands that had clung to the bars. And when he could eat no more, and sat sucking his delicate fingers one by one and wiping them on a cloth, there wanted nothing but the substitution of vine-leaves to finish the picture.”
This is a gruesome detail and together with the sinister monologue the stranger indulges in – of how he is going to beat society and will have the better of it – and with his constant references to readiness to please the women, enthusiasm, honesty and other qualities being part of his character, we are finally getting a very realistic picture of a sociopath and a monomaniac. It may well be that the arrival of this person in the Clennam household will introduce the family’s downfall. After his meal, Blandois pays his visit to Mrs. Clennam, who again runs the gamut of her grim piety, and he immediately seems fascinated by the late Mr. Clennam’s watch that is, as always, lying in front of Mrs. Clennam. He even examines it more closely and asks her about the initials DNF on the case. Mrs. Clennam says that they mean, Do not forget, and she at once expatiates on her never forgetting her duties. Maybe the motto “Do not forget” is also at the bottom of Mrs. Clennam’s whim of having Amy Dorrit about her, and maybe the fact that Mr. Clennam wanted his wife to have his watch was his way of telling her that she should not forget – and maybe, Clennam is right after all with his assumption that the family have laden some guilt on themselves. But maybe, the letters might also stand for a name, as Blandois supposes. Mrs. Clennam’s pious words to Blandois might hint in that direction:
”’No, sir, I do not forget. To lead a life as monotonous as mine has been during many years, is not the way to forget. To lead a life of self-correction is not the way to forget. To be sensible of having (as we all have, every one of us, all the children of Adam!) offences to expiate and peace to make, does not justify the desire to forget. Therefore I have long dismissed it, and I neither forget nor wish to forget.’”
Blandois’s swaggering manner is only shaken once and giving way to his aggressive and ferine nature – when he finds poor Affery staring at him like a rabbit might stare at the enchanting snake. After the interview is ended, Blandois asks Flintwinch to show him about the house and when his request is granted, Flintwinch soon has the impression that the guest is not so much looking at the rooms – in one of them, however, the portrait of the late Mr. Clennam attracts his attention – as at Mr. Flintwinch. Is Blandois still under the impression of having seen Flintwinch before. And can the following words of Blandois be interpreted as containing a hidden threat?
”’My Cabbage, […] I’ll draw upon you; have no fear. Adieu, my Flintwinch. Receive at parting;’ here he gave him a southern embrace, and kissed him soundly on both cheeks; ‘the word of a gentleman! By a thousand Thunders, you shall see me again!’”
It might be noted that the invitation Blandois makes Flintwinch to join him in his inn over a couple of bottles of wine was made with the ulterior motive of worming some information out of Flintwinch, an attempt, nonetheless, that proved futile. The next morning, however, Flintwinch finds that Mr. Blandois has gone. I have a feeling, though, that we have not seen the last of him.