Victorians! discussion
This topic is about
Dombey and Son
Archived Group Reads 2023
>
Dombey and Son - Week 4: Ch. XV - XX
date
newest »
newest »
Mod
Paul’s funeral is described, with emphasis on Mr. Dombey’s stoic demeanor. When he meets with the statuary after the service, his instructions for Paul’s gravestone read “only child” instead of “only son.” It is changed, but we catch yet another glimpse of his disconnect from Florence. He returns home and disappears into his room. The day after the funeral, life returns to normal for the rest of the world, but Mrs. Chick and Miss Tox are trying to buoy Florence’s spirits. Mrs. Chick is convinced that anyone can get through anything if one only makes an effort. She even manages to blame Paul’s sickly constitution on his mother’s “lack of effort!” Florence, desolate and grieving, desperately longs to connect with the only close family member she has left. She knows that her father loved Paul and feels that this common bond can be a solace to them both if he will only let it. Her aunt warns her against attempting to see him, stating that he can be peculiar and that it would be of no use.
Florence refuses to take any of the invitations offered to her to visit others, electing to stay in the empty house with all of its memories. At first, she is haunted by these memories, and getting through each day is agonizing. After a while, though, the initial searing pain subsides and though she still grieves, she also experiences some of the tranquility she felt in being with her brother every day, and it comforts her. One thing that is painful for poor Florence is to watch the family across the street, comprised of a widower with his four little daughters. This single father showers his motherless daughters with all the love and attention that Florence craves, and she is fascinated and tormented by watching what she cannot have.
Florence does not attempt to see her father but creeps from her bed every night to stand with her ear pressed to his closed door, hoping for a sound from within. She is desperate for his love; “in her one absorbing wish to be allowed to show him some affection, to be a consolation to him, to win him over to the endurance of some tenderness from her, his solitary child, she would have knelt down at his feet, if she had dared, in humble supplication” (249). What do you think about Florence’s devotion to a father who doesn’t seem to want her? How does this affect your opinion of her character?
A week after the funeral, Florence is surprised by a visit from Mr. Toots. Poor Mr. Toots has come with the best of intentions but finds himself somewhat rattled when it comes to making conversation. He finally gets to his point, which is that he has brought the Blimber school dog, Diogenes, with him. It seems that no one at the school really wants him and Mr. Toots thought that, since Paul had been fond of the dog, Florence would like to have him. Florence is thrilled with this offering. Diogenes is not the best-behaved dog, but he instantly falls in love with Florence and is devoted to her.
That night, as Florence makes her usual pilgrimage to her father’s door, she is startled to find it cracked open. Taking her courage in her hands, she enters and finds him immersed in thought. Startled, he leaps to his feet when she speaks. She wants to reach out to him but is frozen to the spot. His face has “not one touch of tenderness or pity in it. There was not one gleam of interest, parental recognition, or relenting in it” (256). You would think that he would turn to the one child he has left, that grief would melt his coldness, but it has not had that effect on him. Its effect on him has been much more malevolent. The narrator speculates on these new and chilling feelings: “Did he see before him the successful rival of his son, in health and life? Did he look upon his own successful rival in that son’s affection? Did a mad jealousy and withered pride, poison sweet remembrances that should have endeared and made her precious to him? Could it be possible that it was gall to him to look upon her in her beauty and her promise; thinking of his infant boy?” (256).
Florence is too innocent to think these things, but she recognizes the implacability in his gaze and allows him to escort her out of his room and send her to bed. Then he went into his room and wept for his lost son.
Do you:
a) feel sympathy for Dombey in the loss of his child or
b) want to punch him in the throat?
(Just a quick poll)!
The day of Walter’s departure is finally at hand, and Walter is doing everything he can to keep his own and his uncle’s spirits up. He is just telling Sol that he had been to visit Susan Nipper to ask her to keep Sol updated on how Florence is doing when lo and behold! Florence and Susan arrive for a visit. Florence has come to bid Walter farewell and to ask Sol if she can stay in touch with him and be a comfort to him after Walter leaves. She tells Walter that she now wants him to be her brother since Paul is gone. He seems to release any romantic thoughts he had during this visit and begins to regard her as a sister, someone to be loved and protected but in a brotherly fashion. Could this be the end of the Whittingtonian dream held by Captain Cuttle and Sol? Has Walter been permanently exiled to the friend zone? We will have to wait to find out, for Walter departs the next day and heads off to the West Indies.
Mr. Dombey agrees to go on a trip to get away for a while and decides to take his only friend, Major Bagshot, as his companion. Joey B. is majorly (see what I did there?) annoying, but he does provide us with a healthy dose of humor in this chapter. His way of expressing condolences is quite original: “‘It is not for an old soldier of the Bagstock breed,’ observed the Major, relapsing into a mild state, ‘to deliver himself up, a prey to his own emotions; but–damme, Sir,’ cried the Major, in another spasm of ferocity, ‘I condole with you!’ The Major’s purple visage deepened in its hue, and the Major’s lobster eyes stood out in bolder relief” (271).
Joey B. (this is my favorite of the Major’s many appellations) maintains his position as Dombey’s only friend by continuing to flatter him. The Major’s fawning restores Dombey’s sense of his own power, which has been destabilized by Paul’s death. That event has left him struggling with “the impotence of his will, the instability of his hopes, the feebleness of wealth.” He remembers Paul’s question about what wealth can do, and “he could hardly forbear inquiring, himself, what could it do indeed: what had it done?” (272) It certainly had not saved his child.
Dombey finds the Major a credible companion and considers his birth, social position, and world experience acceptable to him. There is another humorous passage in which Joey B. warns Dombey darkly against Miss Tox. He tells Dombey, in all seriousness, that Miss Tox is a “de-vilish ambitious woman” and “a Lucifer” (273). He implies that Miss Tox has set her cap for Mr. Dombey. Dombey defends her, but in the end, he seems to have been at least somewhat put on his guard against her as he responds very coldly to her goodbye wave.
They encounter Mr. Toodles as they are about to board the train. He now works for the railroad, and Dombey assumes that Toodles is after money. He is astonished when Toodles denies it, but Toodles goes on to tell him that Biler, the boy that Dombey sponsored as a Charitable Grinder, has fallen into bad company and adopted bad ways. Before he can say anything else, Dombey rudely remarks that this is the usual outcome in such situations and walks off. We find out that Dombey is highly offended by the piece of crepe in Toodle’s hat that he is apparently wearing in mourning for little Paul. Such presumption! Mr. Dombey sees this as yet another person, “from Florence in his great house to the coarse churl who was feeding the fire then smoking before them, every one set up some claim or other to share in his dead boy, and was a bidder against him!” (279). Mr. Dombey, in his twisted grief, is enraged at everyone who dared to draw Paul’s attention, who claimed even a little of his affection. He thinks of Paul as he would have been in the embodiment of his dreams, the child who “was to have divided with him his riches, and his projects, and his power, and allied with whom he was to have shut out all the world as with a double door of gold” (280). He feels that these people, these strangers, coming together in mourning for his boy are insulting him with their “knowledge of his defeated hopes, and their boasts of claiming community of feeling with himself” (280). In his rage against Death and Fate, he is angry at everyone who touched Paul’s life.
The train journey is an extended metaphor (and epistrophe) for the ruthlessness of Death. He admits to himself, during this journey, that the feelings he had at Florence's birth have grown stronger now. He thinks, “one child was gone, and one child left. Why was the object of his hope removed instead of her?” Her beauty, her sweetness, her love for him have no effect on him. The fact that she is his own child leaves him unmoved. He feels only that “she had been unwelcome to him from the first; she was an aggravation of his bitterness now" (282). The pain of losing Paul is worse than it would have been if he had been an only child because Dombey knew if Death had to take a child from him, it had another choice and didn’t take it.
Once arrived at their destination, Dombey requests a day to himself. The Major goes out on the town, making himself known to anyone he meets and making sure he is seen. They are at Leamington, a spa town, which has a river flowing through it and a Pump Room. By the next morning, Dombey is feeling better about things and ready to go out with his friend.
What are your thoughts about the heavy events in this week’s reading? We are not even halfway through the book, so I’m curious to see where the story goes. Dombey has gone from merely ignoring Florence to actively wishing she had died. Is he going to be able to come back from that? Is Florence going to figure out his true feelings for her? If she does, will she ever be able to forgive him? Will he ever try to have a relationship with her? Lots of questions which have, I’m sure, plenty of answers ahead. What questions do you have? Observations? Favorite passages or quotes? Please share!
Mod
So what the heck is Mr. Dickens going to write about for the next 40 chapters??? Dombey Without Son? Yikes! I just don’t know how the misadventures of Dombey, Sr. will hold my attention.
Florence has potential but she’s just so darned tragic!
I was not surprised by Paul’s death - there was so much foreboding and death imagery all the time that it became clear to me that the boy was not ‘for this world’. I agree with you, though, that it creates a rupture in the novel. It now must become the story of Mr. Dombey. And the story of Florence - but she seems to be a typical ‘Dickens’ angel’: one of his idealized young females - beautiful, good, sweet, innocent etc. etc. - who lack that bit of tension or contradiction in their character that would make them really interesting. There’s enough of that tension in Dombey, because he is not simply indifferent to his daughter, but develops active negative emotions.
Walter - the corresponding idealized young male character - is taken out of the story for now, too. I don’t take Florence’s talk about ‘brotherly love’ as the last word: Florence is very young at the time - 13 or so? - too young for anything but sisterly feelings. It’s different for Walter who is about 8 years her senior. (References to the age of the young characters are sparse, and they don’t act their age consistently, so I have to keep reminding myself)
I’ve put Carker down as the designated villain since the first description of his teeth: there’s always one, isn’t there? And he seems to have some plans on Florence himself. My guess would be that there’s a backstory about his brother waiting for us, with conseqences for the story, and Carker.
I expect that the action now centers on Mr. Dombey, with Carker taking on his role as the villain at some point. And I fully agree with you on
I just don’t know how the misadventures of Dombey, Sr. will hold my attention.
Dickens created a particular (old-fashioned?) atmosphere around little Paul which is now gone from the novel.
sabagrey wrote: "I was not surprised by Paul’s death - there was so much foreboding and death imagery all the time that it became clear to me that the boy was not ‘for this world’.I agree with you, though, that it creates a rupture in the novel. It now must become the story of Mr. Dombey."
One might guess at a number of various directions that the novel might take ... another son by a future wife? a son-in-law via Florence's marriage? a change of character and a realization that a daughter has value equivalent to a son? Dombey's joining his son in death? LOTS of possibilities.
Paul wrote: "One might guess at a number of various directions that the novel might take ... another son by a future wife? a son-in-law via Florence's marriage? a change of character and a realization that a daughter has value equivalent to a son? Dombey's joining his son in death? LOTS of possibilities.."I agree with you there. The question I am asking myself is only: am I as curious about Mr. Dombey's destiny as I was about little Paul? - and sorry, my answer is: no; still curious, ok - but not 'hooked', as I was by the child's story.
Cindy wrote: "In Chapter XVIII, we are back in the Dombey mansion, which is in a state of mourning. A melancholy pall hangs over the place, with sounds and voices muted, lights dimmed, and hushed conversations l..."Your questions and observations are first rate Cindy. You are a great facilitator.
In the limited Dickens I've read/listened to there seem to be multiple climaxes all building toward a final climax. I wouldn't call Paul's death a rupture but a climax. You could call it a pre-climax. The novel Bleak house comes to mind with multiple instances where they all build to a crescendo.
No matter how disjointed Mr. Dombey is he deserves our sympathy for the loss of his son.
I thought that young Paul might last longer but it seemed inevitable he was going to die. The lying in his bed listening to the river rushing past was more upsetting for me than his actual death. But it seems that it is not young Paul but Florence that is unwittingly haunting Dombey senior…….
’ There was a face — he had looked upon it, on the previous night, and it on him with eyes that read his soul, though they were dim with tears, and hidden soon behind two quivering hands — that often had attended him in fancy, on this ride. He had seen it, with the expression of last night, timidly pleading to him. It was not reproachful, but there was something of doubt, almost of hopeful incredulity in it, which, as he once more saw that fade away into a desolate certainty of his dislike, was like reproach. It was a trouble to him to think of this face of Florence.’
…….’ He rejected the angel, and took up with the tormenting spirit crouching in his bosom. Her patience, goodness, youth, devotion, love, were as so many atoms in the ashes upon which he set his heel. He saw her image in the blight and blackness all around him, not irradiating but deepening the gloom.’
Dombey senior is now just a pathetic remnant of a man who put all his eggs in Paul’s basket and has been left with nothing that he really treasures. I am not sure if he will recover from it and/or become a changed man or just wither away like his son. No doubt that Mr. Carker the manager is hoping for the latter. How Dombey gets on with the Major I can’t fathom because they are like chalk and cheese. The Major’s nonsense is a slight distraction for Dombey but how long will he put up with it?
Despite Paul’s death and all the hurt and neglect from her father, Florence seems to be growing stronger at least mentally. Her willingness to care for Walter’s uncle shows her positivity in what is such a dark time for her. Susan Nipper is such a great ally in this respect. I agree with sabagrey that as Florence grows older her ‘brotherly’ love for Walter might transform into something else if he survives the many difficulties in Barbados and if he ever comes back at all!
"Is it possible?" cried Walter, looking round and starting up in his turn. "Here!"
’Why, It was so possible and so actual, that, while the words were on his lips, Florence hurried past him; took Uncle Sol’s snuff-coloured lapels, one in each hand; kissed him on the cheek; and turning, gave her hand to Walter with a simple truth and earnestness that was her own, and no one else’s in the world!
"Going away, Walter?" said Florence.’
Mod
It’s hard to say if he loves himself or his money or his ambition… although these seem to be things he values. I find it unforgivable that he continues to be so callous towards his daughter. Unforgivable that he shows such undiluted jealousy and resentment towards anyone for whom his son had affection. There seems to be a level of desperate narcissism in a person who would deny joy and friendship to someone he loves.
There is a hugely emotional scene when Sol, in the throes of the terrible grief of losing his nephew to a sea voyage, puts on a brave face, and explains his misery with, "But I'm behind the time, you understand ... and I would rather have my dear boy here. It's an old-fashioned notion, I dare say."It reminds me of the scene in Love Story when Jenny's father Phil tries to hide his shock as he agrees to their plan for a non-religious wedding.
And again Dickens tugs hard on our heartstrings, with these words from Mr. Carker to Walter as he prepares to depart:
"If when you come back, you miss me from my old corner, and should hear from anyone where I am lying, come and look upon my grave ... Let me think, when I know my time is coming on, that some one ... may stand there for a moment, and remember me with pity and forgiveness."
Wow.
Mod
Florence has potential but she’s just so darned tragic!..."
You must have faith in our Mr. Dickens! This is not his first rodeo! :) I'm pretty sure some other conflict will present itself to fill up those pages. Florence is tragic and I imagine her sufferings are not going to end anytime soon. Her sweetness has not yet begun to annoy me. Maybe it is because she's still a child; if she remains determinedly angelic as an adult, that might change. I'd like her more if she would start acting out! I do know, though, that a neglected/abused child is akin to one starving physically--that hunger can overcome everything, including anger. Losing one parent can also make the remaining parent even more precious in the child's eyes, so her behavior is not unrealistic. Acting out is also a natural reaction, though . . . I'm just saying!
Mod
I do think this situation can definitely change. I'm just not sure whether it is something of a red herring, or if groundwork is being laid for another "suitor" to arrive on the scene (and NOT the odious Carker!). The matchmaking lines have been SO pronounced between Walter and Florence!! At this point, I'll be surprised if they don't end up together, but we still have quite a ways to go, so anything is possible!
Dickens created a particular (old-fashioned?) atmosphere around little Paul which is now gone from the novel.
He did command attention, didn't he? I wasn't surprised that he died, but it did happen more quickly than I thought it would. I do think that Dombey will become more active as a character now. He has been pretty passive so far, staying in the background. Now that his plans for the future are ruined, I think he will start pursuing some sort of Plan B.
Mod
It's Wednesday now and I'm getting further into this week's chapters. One of these possibilities is definitely shaping up! No spoilers, though! :)
Mod
Thank you so much, Francis!!
Cindy wrote: "Paul wrote: "One might guess at a number of various directions that the novel might take ... another son by a future wife? a son-in-law via Florence's marriage? a change of character and a realizat..."indeed, lots of possiblities ... and I guess, from the length of the novel, that maybe we get more than one option ;-)
Mod
Mod
..."
I think they make a very odd pair, too! I know that the Major's toad-eating is pleasing to Dombey, but surely he's not the first respectably-born gentleman to try to butter him up. I'm not complaining; Joey B.'s antics amuse me greatly, but they definitely do not seem like kindred spirits.
I am not sure if he will recover from it and/or become a changed man or just wither away like his son. No doubt that Mr. Carker the manager is hoping for the latter.
If Carker has designs on Florence, I suppose he would appreciate it if Dombey would obligingly die sooner rather than later!
Mod
Dombey's affection seems to be, as we've discussed before, for his son, but his vision of who his son would someday become. Little Paul seems to serve as a place-holder for that person; I don't think Dombey really knew very much, or troubled to learn, who little Paul actually was. At the same time, there are hints that either he actually does feel more affection than he will acknowledge and doesn't know exactly how to handle it, or that he regrets that his relationship with his children is not more than it is. That could explain the jealousy. At this point, I just don't know yet. Anyone else have any thoughts to share on this subject?
Mod
"If when you come back, you miss me from my old corner, and should hear from anyone where I am lying, come and look upon my grave ... Let me think, when I know my time is coming on, that some one ... may stand there for a moment, and remember me with pity and forgiveness."
Wow...."
I have to admit that I am dying to know the backstory of these brothers. What did the elder do that was so disgraceful?!? I know he said he stole from them, but it seems out of character.
Cindy wrote: "I have to admit that I am dying to know the backstory of these brothers. What did the elder do that was so disgraceful?!? I know he said he stole from them, but it seems out of character."a wild guess: the backstory could contain some mystery, the elder brother eventually turns out more or less innocent, and was framed by the villain-brother. - too wild?
Mod
Not at all! The elder brother is so humble in his "disgraced" state, the younger so clearly villainous, that I wouldn't be surprised to find out that the older selflessly took the fall for the younger.
Renee wrote: "I agree with you about Florence, Cindy. She is angelic, but she has been through real trauma for her young years. The sudden death of her one loving parent, the emotional distance of her father, the death of her beloved younger brother… for whom she acted as a mother-substitute in many ways...."Yes, young Florence has been through a lot during her childhood. There was also the frightening episode of being kidnapped and robbed in that menacing ordeal with ‘Good’ Mrs. Brown.
All those traumas could easily have led to her total withdrawal and compliance with the people and the world around her. But there seems to be some steely determination which keeps her going.
Florence has shown some resilience in the way she has decided to stay at home and has not just meekly succumbed to the wishes of others wanting her to go away. Her willingness to seek out Walter as a ‘brother’ and befriend his uncle shows that there is some positive thinking in her troubled mind.
Susan Nipper has been a great ally in helping her through her life so far. I think Florence and Susan make a good team and I am hoping that they will somehow rise above the tragedies and play a major part in the rest of story. I will be disappointed with Mr. Dickens if they don’t.
Mod
I do like the balance that I'm getting from Florence's character. She is good and sweet, but she's not boring me. I don't see her turning into Lucie Manette when she grows up. I also like that, if she can only have one companion in her isolation, that it is someone with some sass! Susan Nipper is a great role model for keeping Florence from turning into a fainting, weeping wet blanket.
I wanted to find a good illustration of the ‘Little Midshipman.’ Apparently it actually existed in Leadenhall street, London. Dickens used to walk past it regularly. Here is the scene when junior Mr. Carker says goodbye to Walter.
’ “I wish,” said Walter, “you had suffered me to be your friend indeed. I always wished it, Mr. Carker, as you know; but never half so much as now, when we are going to part.”
“It is enough,” replied the other, “that you have been the friend of my own breast, and that when I have avoided you most, my heart inclined the most towards you, and was fullest of you. Walter, good-bye!”
“Good-bye, Mr Carker. Heaven be with you, Sir!” cried Walter with emotion.’
Trev wrote: "I wanted to find a good illustration of the ‘Little Midshipman.’ Apparently it actually existed in Leadenhall street, London. Dickens used to walk past it regularly. Here is the scene when junior..."
oh, wonderful! - thanks so very much. ... I had no idea the Midshipman really existed as a shop!
sabagrey wrote: "Trev wrote: "I wanted to find a good illustration of the ‘Little Midshipman.’ Apparently it actually existed in Leadenhall street, London. Dickens used to walk past it regularly. Here is the scen..."
I found the illustration and information here…….
https://victorianweb.org/art/illustra...
The paragraph about Dickens and the shop is towards the end of the article.
’ The Sheppard illustration introduces the celebrated effigy of the Little Midshipman (right), an appropriate advertising property for Sol Gillis's instrument-maker's shop. Since he was not a Londoner and had not even visited London, W. L. Sheppard was likely familiar with the the figure of the young naval officer holding a sextant through one of Phiz's original serial illustrations, the April 1847 steel-engraving The Wooden Midshipman on the Look-out (Chapter XIX). Dickens locates the shop in Leadenhall Street, and there was indeed such a wooden statue at No. 157, which the author would regularly have seen as he walked from Covent Garden and past India House, as he describes it in The Uncommercial Traveller.’
I agree Cindy, i love your summaries and commentary, am really enjoying!- The death of little Paul is one of the saddest moments in any Victorian novel I think and so beautifully written... it reminds us that these Victorians lived in a time where these deaths happened so often, Dickens experienced this so much - and that so many children were motherless as well with deaths in childbirth like their mother's - and yet these deaths are often also written as a celebration of the innocence of childhood and somehow that it is beautiful to die before corruption happens, perhaps as how the Victorians were able to live with these terrible losses over and over. Perhaps more harmful is this myth of the "good death" with the peacefulness and grace of the dying - as opposed to the realities of the dying process, even in modern times with all the supports that we have.
Dombey grieves in a very unhealthy way: but this is not uncommon amongst men (or families), that we take things out on those closest to us and are jealous of others who were closer in the time of death -
I do appreciate the discussion above on Florence's character being more nuanced than i had seen her - she does have more agency and depth than i had given her credit for - there is definitely an annoying side to these exceedingly good, innocent, passive women of Dickens, but we can choose to see this through the lens of his experience and his young sister-in-law who died young and he mourned greatly perhaps, rather than in the negative light of what he thinks girls and women should be like to keep them in their place. And there are certainly a lot of strong women doing what they can in their way for good - Polly Toodle and Susan Nipper are such wonderful characters.
I do love also the characters who have never lost their innocence - the wonderful Captain Cuttle and even Uncle Sol in many ways - as well as Walter, who loses his innocent dream in some ways as he has to witness Captain Cuttle humiliating him in front of Mr Dombey and the sadness of knowing he has not succeeded at the firm or in the eyes of his uncle - yet retains his innocent love of his uncle and of Florence.
I feel sorry for Mr. Dombey, as I would for anyone who loses a child, but I also want to punch him in the throat for his continued neglect of Florence. I would also like to punch Major Bagstock in the throat because he is truly irritating and is spreading untrue information about Miss Tox. I noticed that Mr. Dickens switched to present tense at the beginning of Chapter 18 through the day and evening of Paul’s funeral. This gave a sense of immediacy to the narrative, a feeling of actually being present as the day plodded on. It actually seemed to slow the pace, as days of that sort do seem to drag.
Mr. Carker is up to no good with his grinning teeth. Captain Cuttle is a great comic character, however inept. Susan Nipper is growing more delightful with each appearance and is a force to be reckoned with for anyone who hurts Florence. Diogenes is my new favorite character - a very good boy!
Mod
Same… But why the throat?!? 🤣
Renee, two reasons. Cindy asked the question, AND I bet it would hurt!
Mod
Mod
If you're gonna punch someone, Renee, you have to make it count! We are deferring to our Victorian sensibilities and keeping the punches above the belt! :)
The Week 4 reading is tragic as we lose one of our main characters. Hopefully, you have read it so that this is not a major spoiler for you! :)
We ended last week with little Paul returning home, apparently quite ill. Those who care most for him seem to be distraught at his condition. In our other plot thread, Walter has been assigned to a post in the West Indies. He does not see this as a promotion but divines (correctly) that it is due to Mr. Dombey’s desire to put some distance between Walter and the Dombey family. Being the trooper that he is, Walter is trying to put a good spin on this turn of events and his most pressing problem is how to present this news to his uncle in a positive way. He enlists the aid of Captain Cutter, unable to trust himself to tell Sol without betraying his despair. Captain Cutter is profoundly shocked by this news and needs some time to “bite his nails a bit,” during which he “put his iron hook between his teeth” and “applied himself to the consideration of the subject in its various branches” (212). After this cogitation, the answer becomes obvious to him. Being on such friendly terms with Mr. Dombey now, he needs to just “step up to Mr. Dombey’s house . . . meet Mr. Dombey in a confidential spirit–hook him by the button-hole–talk it over–make it all right–and come away triumphant!” (214). All of this without Walter’s knowledge, of course. There is a very amusing description of the Captain’s sartorial efforts for this meeting, along with purchasing a formidable nosegay to present to Mr. Dombey (can you imagine Dombey’s expression on being presented with this?).
Walter leaves the Captain and spends the day aimlessly wandering the fields, reflecting on his life and thinking of Florence. As he is returning home, he encounters Susan Nipper in a carriage, desperately trying to locate the home of Polly Toodles (Richards), the woman who nursed Baby Paul. Paul has expressed a desire to see her, and Susan cannot accept being unable to comply. The neighborhood in which the Toodles lived during Polly’s employment with the family has long been torn down with all of the new construction happening around the railroad. The neighborhood, which had “hesitated to acknowledge the railroad in its straggling days . . . had grown wise and penitent, as any Christian might in such a case, and now boasted of its powerful and prosperous relation” (218). The railroad has become the beating heart of the area, and “crowds of people and mountains of goods” like “throbbing currents rushed and returned incessantly like its life’s blood” (218). Walter helps locate the Toodles’ new residence and Polly immediately agrees to return to the Dombey household to see the ailing child.
Paul has never regained his strength after returning home but has stayed in his bed, unable even to move to a chair in the room. We immediately see references to the sea again and can see the allusion to the ebbing tide of his life. Florence refuses to leave Paul’s side and is close, always loving and comforting him. Mr. Dombey is often there, as well, but at a distance; a silent presence who rarely even lifts his head. When Paul assures his father that he is happy and not to worry about him, Mr. Dombey no longer comes to sit by the bedside. It is while wondering who showed kindness to him as a baby that Polly’s name comes up and Paul asks to see her.
He greets Polly with a radiant smile and she immediately envelops him in affection, full of “tenderness and pity” (224). Walter is also brought into the room at Paul’s request. Paul immediately bids him goodbye and bades his father to always “remember Walter” and that Paul had been fond of him (225). Paul then passes away, locked in Florence’s arms, just as his mother had done. Are you surprised by Paul’s death? If you were expecting it, are you surprised by the timing?
*A moment of silence for Paul*
This tragic event prevents Captain Cuttle from carrying out his plan of working Walter’s fate out with Dombey, so he has to come up with another scheme. Walter and the Captain, together, tell Sol about his nephew’s transfer to the West Indies. He is, of course, overwhelmed by the news at first, but Walter and the Captain dwell strongly on the golden prospects of this turn, and what a wonderful turn this it is for his future. The Captain ties the trip mysteriously to their previous dreams of a match between Walter and Florence, bringing in the events of the day in which Walter has been included. Sol ends by being bewildered by all of this and blames his old-fashioned senses for not being able to see it as they do. While he is not happy, he is reconciled to the reality of it.
Captain Cutter, meanwhile, has decided that with Dombey out of reach, he will speak to his second-in-command, Carker the manager. The Captain, lulled into a false sense of security by Carker’s blinding smile, reveals much, while Carker says nothing of consequence. The Captain, thinking he is being a master of subtlety, coaches his remarks and questions in such broad terms that Carker needs to do little more than nod and smile to placate that innocent gentleman. Meanwhile, the Captain confides their dreams of Walter and Florence’s eventual marriage to him. At this, “a cat, or a monkey, or a hyena, or a death’s-head, could not have shown the Captain more teeth at one time, than Mr. Carker showed him at this period in their interview” (234-35). How does this information affect Mr. Carker? We are not told, but we are told that his “sly look and watchful manner,” his “false mouth, stretched but not laughing,” even the “silent passing of his soft hand over his white linen and his smooth face” are “desperately cat-like” (236-37). Somehow, this does not imbue me with a sense of his benevolence!