Little Dorrit, Book One: Poverty - Penn State University

Little DorritBook OnePovertybyCharles DickensAn Electronic Classics Series Publication

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Little DorritbyCharles DickensCONTENTSPreface to the 1857 EditionBOOK THE FIRST: POVERTY1. Sun and Shadow2. Fellow Travellers3. Home4. Mrs Flintwinch has a Dream5. Family Affairs6. The Father of the Marshalsea7. The Child of the Marshalsea8. The Lock9. little Mother10. Containing the whole Science of GovernmentLittle Dorrit – Book One11. Let Loose12. Bleeding Heart Yard13. Patriarchal14. Little Dorrit’s Party15. Mrs Flintwinch has another Dream16. Nobody’s Weakness17. Nobody’s Rival18. Little Dorrit’s Lover19. The Father of the Marshalsea in two or three Relations20. Moving in Society21. Mr Merdle’s Complaint22. A Puzzle23. Machinery in Motion24. Fortune-Telling25. Conspirators and Others26. Nobody’s State of Mind27. Five-and-Twenty28. Nobody’s Disappearance29. Mrs Flintwinch goes on Dreaming30. The Word of a Gentleman31. Spirit 32. More Fortune-Telling3

Charles Dickens33. Mrs Merdle’s Complaintviolence to good manners, in the days of a Russian war, and of34. A Shoal of Barnaclesa Court of Inquiry at Chelsea. If I might make so bold as to35. What was behind Mr Pancks on Little Dorrit’s Hand defend that extravagant conception, Mr Merdle, I would hint36. The Marshalsea becomes an Orphanthat it originated after the Railroad-share epoch, in the times ofa certain Irish bank, and of one or two other equally laudableenterprises. If I were to plead anything in mitigation of thePREFACE TO THE 1857 EDITIONpreposterous fancy that a bad design will sometimes claim tobe a good and an expressly religious design, it would be theI have been occupied with this story, during many working curious coincidence that it has been brought to its climax inhours of two years. I must have been very ill employed, if I these pages, in the days of the public examination of late Directorsof a Royal British Bank. But, I submit myself to suffercould not leave its merits and demerits as a whole, to expressthemselves on its being read as a whole. But, as it is not unreasonableto suppose that I may have held its threads with a to accept the assurance (on good authority) that nothing likejudgment to go by default on all these counts, if need be, andmore continuous attention than anyone else can have given them was ever known in this land. Some of my readers maythem during its desultory publication, it is not unreasonable to have an interest in being informed whether or no any portionsask that the weaving may be looked at in its completed state, of the Marshalsea Prison are yet standing. I did not know,and with the pattern finished.myself, until the sixth of this present month, when I went toIf I might offer any apology for so exaggerated a fiction as look. I found the outer front courtyard, often mentioned here,the Barnacles and the Circumlocution Office, I would seek it metamorphosed into a butter shop; and I then almost gave upin the common experience of an Englishman, without presumingto mention the unimportant fact of my having done that certain adjacent ‘Angel Court, leading to Bermondsey’, Ievery brick of the jail for lost. Wandering, however, down acame4

Little Dorrit – Book Oneto ‘Marshalsea Place:’ the houses in which I recognised, not the place got free; will look upon rooms in which the debtorsonly as the great block of the former prison, but as preserving lived; and will stand among the crowding ghosts of many miserableyears.the rooms that arose in my mind’s-eye when I became LittleDorrit’s biographer. The smallest boy I ever conversed with, In the Preface to Bleak House I remarked that I had nevercarrying the largest baby I ever saw, offered a supernaturally had so many readers. In the Preface to its next successor,intelligent explanation of the locality in its old uses, and was Little Dorrit, I have still to repeat the same words. Deeplyvery nearly correct. How this young Newton (for such I judge sensible of the affection and confidence that have grown uphim to be) came by his information, I don’t know; he was a between us, I add to this Preface, as I added to that, May wequarter of a century too young to know anything about it of meet again!himself. I pointed to the window of the room where Little Dorritwas born, and where her father lived so long, and asked him London May 1857what was the name of the lodger who tenanted that apartmentat present? He said, ‘Tom Pythick.’ I asked him who wasTom Pythick? and he said, ‘Joe Pythick’s uncle.’A little further on, I found the older and smaller wall, whichused to enclose the pent-up inner prison where nobody wasput, except for ceremony. But, whosoever goes into MarshalseaPlace, turning out of Angel Court, leading to Bermondsey, willfind his feet on the very paving-stones of the extinct Marshalseajail; will see its narrow yard to the right and to the left, verylittle altered if at all, except that the walls were lowered when5

BOOK THE FIRSTPOVERTYCHAPTER 1 Sun and ShadowTHIRTY YEARS AGO, Marseilles lay burning in the sun, one day.A blazing sun upon a fierce August day was no greater rarityin southern France then, than at any other time, before or since.Everything in Marseilles, and about Marseilles, had stared atthe fervid sky, and been stared at in return, until a staring habithad become universal there. Strangers were stared out of countenanceby staring white houses, staring white walls, staringwhite streets, staring tracts of arid road, staring hills from whichverdure was burnt away. The only things to be seen not fixedlystaring and glaring were the vines drooping under their load ofgrapes. These did occasionally wink a little, as the hot air barelymoved their faint leaves.There was no wind to make a ripple on the foul water withinthe harbour, or on the beautiful sea without. The line of demarcationbetween the two colours, black and blue, showedCharles Dickens6the point which the pure sea would not pass; but it lay as quietas the abominable pool, with which it never mixed. Boats withoutawnings were too hot to touch; ships blistered at theirmoorings; the stones of the quays had not cooled, night orday, for months. Hindoos, Russians, Chinese, Spaniards, Portuguese,Englishmen, Frenchmen, Genoese, Neapolitans, Venetians,Greeks, Turks, descendants from all the builders ofBabel, come to trade at Marseilles, sought the shade alike—taking refuge in any hiding-place from a sea too intensely blueto be looked at, and a sky of purple, set with one great flamingjewel of fire.The universal stare made the eyes ache. Towards the distantline of Italian coast, indeed, it was a little relieved by light cloudsof mist, slowly rising from the evaporation of the sea, but itsoftened nowhere else. Far away the staring roads, deep indust, stared from the hill-side, stared from the hollow, staredfrom the interminable plain. Far away the dusty vines overhangingwayside cottages, and the monotonous wayside avenuesof parched trees without shade, drooped beneath thestare of earth and sky. So did the horses with drowsy bells, inlong files of carts, creeping slowly towards the interior; so did

Little Dorrit – Book Onetheir recumbent drivers, when they were awake, which rarely refuse of reflected light as it could find for itself, were twohappened; so did the exhausted labourers in the fields. Everythingthat lived or grew, was oppressed by the glare; except immovable from the wall, with a draught-board rudely hackedmen. Besides the two men, a notched and disfigured bench,the lizard, passing swiftly over rough stone walls, and the cicala, upon it with a knife, a set of draughts, made of old buttons andchirping his dry hot chirp, like a rattle. The very dust was soup bones, a set of dominoes, two mats, and two or threescorched brown, and something quivered in the atmosphere wine bottles. That was all the chamber held, exclusive of ratsas if the air itself were panting.and other unseen vermin, in addition to the seen vermin, theBlinds, shutters, curtains, awnings, were all closed and drawn two men.to keep out the stare. Grant it but a chink or keyhole, and it It received such light as it got through a grating of iron barsshot in like a white-hot arrow. The churches were the freest fashioned like a pretty large window, by means of which itfrom it. To come out of the twilight of pillars and arches— could be always inspected from the gloomy staircase on whichdreamily dotted with winking lamps, dreamily peopled with the grating gave. There was a broad strong ledge of stone tougly old shadows piously dozing, spitting, and begging—was this grating where the bottom of it was let into the masonry,to plunge into a fiery river, and swim for life to the nearest strip three or four feet above the ground. Upon it, one of the twoof shade. So, with people lounging and lying wherever shade men lolled, half sitting and half lying, with his knees drawn up,was, with but little hum of tongues or barking of dogs, with and his feet and shoulders planted against the opposite sidesoccasional jangling of discordant church bells and rattling of of the aperture. The bars were wide enough apart to admit ofvicious drums, Marseilles, a fact to be strongly smelt and tasted, his thrusting his arm through to the elbow; and so he held onlay broiling in the sun one day. In Marseilles that day there was negligently, for his greater ease.a villainous prison. In one of its chambers, so repulsive a place A prison taint was on everything there. The imprisoned air,that even the obtrusive stare blinked at it, and left it to such the imprisoned light, the imprisoned damps, the imprisoned7

Charles Dickensmen, were all deteriorated by confinement. As the captive men just as much as his eyes were too near to one another. For thewere faded and haggard, so the iron was rusty, the stone was rest, he was large and tall in frame, had thin lips, where hisslimy, the wood was rotten, the air was faint, the light was dim. thick moustache showed them at all, and a quantity of dry hair,Like a well, like a vault, like a tomb, the prison had no knowledgeof the brightness outside, and would have kept its pol-The hand with which he held the grating (seamed all over theof no definable colour, in its shaggy state, but shot with red.luted atmosphere intact in one of the spice islands of the Indian back with ugly scratches newly healed), was unusually smallocean.and plump; would have been unusually white but for the prisonThe man who lay on the ledge of the grating was even chilled. grime. The other man was lying on the stone floor, coveredHe jerked his great cloak more heavily upon him by an impatientmovement of one shoulder, and growled, ‘To the devil ‘Get up, pig!’ growled the first. ‘Don’t sleep when I amwith a coarse brown coat.with this Brigand of a Sun that never shines in here!’ hungry.’He was waiting to be fed, looking sideways through the bars ‘It’s all one, master,’ said the pig, in a submissive manner,that he might see the further down the stairs, with much of the and not without cheerfulness; ‘I can wake when I will, I canexpression of a wild beast in similar expectation. But his eyes, sleep when I will. It’s all the same.’too close together, were not so nobly set in his head as those As he said it, he rose, shook himself, scratched himself, tiedof the king of beasts are in his, and they were sharp rather than his brown coat loosely round his neck by the sleeves (he hadbright—pointed weapons with little surface to betray them. previously used it as a coverlet), and sat down upon the pavementyawning, with his back against the wall opposite to theThey had no depth or change; they glittered, and they openedand shut. So far, and waiving their use to himself, a clockmaker grating.could have made a better pair. He had a hook nose, handsomeafter its kind, but too high between the eyes by probably ‘The mid-day bells will ring—in forty minutes.’ When‘Say what the hour is,’ grumbled the first man.he8

Little Dorrit – Book Onemade the little pause, he had looked round the prison-room, a long red cap, a red sash round his waist, and a knife in it.as if for certain information.‘Judge if I come back from Naples as I went! See here, my‘You are a clock. How is it that you always know?’ master! Civita Vecchia, Leghorn, Porto Fino, Genoa, Cornice,Off Nice (which is in there), Marseilles, you and me. The‘How can I say? I always know what the hour is, and whereI am. I was brought in here at night, and out of a boat, but I apartment of the jailer and his keys is where I put this thumb;know where I am. See here! Marseilles harbour;’ on his knees and here at my wrist they keep the national razor in its case—on the pavement, mapping it all out with a swarthy forefinger; the guillotine locked up.’‘Toulon (where the galleys are), Spain over there, Algiers over The other man spat suddenly on the pavement, and gurgledthere. Creeping away to the left here, Nice. Round by the in his throat.Cornice to Genoa. Genoa Mole and Harbour. Quarantine Some lock below gurgled in its throat immediately afterwards,Ground. City there; terrace gardens blushing with the bella and then a door crashed. Slow steps began ascending the stairs;donna. Here, Porto Fino. Stand out for Leghorn. Out again the prattle of a sweet little voice mingled with the noise theyfor Civita Vecchia. so away to—hey! there’s no room for made; and the prison-keeper appeared carrying his daughter,Naples;’ he had got to the wall by this time; ‘but it’s all one; three or four years old, and a basket.it’s in there!’‘How goes the world this forenoon, gentlemen? My littleHe remained on his knees, looking up at his fellow-prisoner one, you see, going round with me to have a peep at her father’swith a lively look for a prison. A sunburnt, quick, lithe, little birds. Fie, then! Look at the birds, my pretty, look at the birds.’man, though rather thickset. Earrings in his brown ears, white He looked sharply at the birds himself, as he held the childteeth lighting up his grotesque brown face, intensely black hair up at the grate, especially at the little bird, whose activity heclustering about his brown throat, a ragged red shirt open at seemed to mistrust. ‘I have brought your bread, Signor Johnhis brown breast. Loose, seaman-like trousers, decent shoes, Baptist,’ said he (they all spoke in French, but the little man9

Charles Dickenswas an Italian); ‘and if I might recommend you not to game—’ little loaves are for Monsieur Rigaud. Again, this cheese—‘You don’t recommend the master!’ said John Baptist, showinghis teeth as he smiled.Lucky bird!’again, this wine—again, this tobacco—all for Monsieur Rigaud.‘Oh! but the master wins,’ returned the jailer, with a passing The child put all these things between the bars into the soft,look of no particular liking at the other man, ‘and you lose. It’s Smooth, well-shaped hand, with evident dread—more thanquite another thing. You get husky bread and sour drink by it; once drawing back her own and looking at the man with herand he gets sausage of Lyons, veal in savoury jelly, white bread, fair brow roughened into an expression half of fright and halfstrachino cheese, and good wine by it. Look at the birds, my of anger. Whereas she had put the lump of coarse bread intopretty!’the swart, scaled, knotted hands of John Baptist (who had‘Poor birds!’ said the child.scarcely as much nail on his eight fingers and two thumbs asThe fair little face, touched with divine compassion, as it would have made out one for Monsieur Rigaud), with readypeeped shrinkingly through the grate, was like an angel’s in the confidence; and, when he kissed her hand, had herself passedprison. John Baptist rose and moved towards it, as if it had a it caressingly over his face. Monsieur Rigaud, indifferent togood attraction for him. The other bird remained as before, this distinction, propitiated the father by laughing and noddingexcept for an impatient glance at the basket.at the daughter as often as she gave him anything; and, so soon‘Stay!’ said the jailer, putting his little daughter on the outer as he had all his viands about him in convenient nooks of theledge of the grate, ‘she shall feed the birds. This big loaf is for ledge on which he rested, began to eat with an appetite.Signor John Baptist. We must break it to get it through into the When Monsieur Rigaud laughed, a change took place in hiscage. So, there’s a tame bird to kiss the little hand! This sausagein a vine leaf is for Monsieur Rigaud. Again—this veal in tache went up under his nose, and his nose came down overface, that was more remarkable than prepossessing. His mous-savoury jelly is for Monsieur Rigaud. Again—these three white his moustache, in a very sinister and cruel manner.10

Little Dorrit – Book One‘There!’ said the jailer, turning his basket upside down to had already resumed his meal, though not with quite so quickbeat the crumbs out, ‘I have expended all the money I received;here is the note of it, and that’s a thing accomplished. ‘Adieu, my birds!’ said the keeper of the prison, taking hisan appetite as before.Monsieur Rigaud, as I expected yesterday, the President will pretty child in his arms, and dictating the words with a kiss.look for the pleasure of your society at an hour after mid-day, ‘Adieu, my birds!’ the pretty child repeated.to-day.’Her innocent face looked back so brightly over his shoulder,as he walked away with her, singing her the song of the‘To try me, eh?’ said Rigaud, pausing, knife in hand andmorsel in mouth.child’s game:‘You have said it. To try you.’‘There is no news for me?’ asked John Baptist, who had ‘Who passes by this road so late? Compagnon de labegun, contentedly, to munch his bread.Majolaine! Who passes by this road so late? Always gay!’The jailer shrugged his shoulders.‘Lady of mine! Am I to lie here all my life, my father?’ that John Baptist felt it a point of honour to reply at the grate,‘What do I know!’ cried the jailer, turning upon him with and in good time and tune, though a little hoarsely:southern quickness, and gesticulating with both his hands andall his fingers, as if he were threatening to tear him to pieces. ‘Of all the king’s knights ’tis the flower, Compagnon de la‘My friend, how is it possible for me to tell how long you are Majolaine! Of all the king’s knights ’tis the flower, Alwaysto lie here? What do I know, John Baptist Cavalletto? Death gay!’of my life! There are prisoners here sometimes, who are not insuch a devil of a hurry to be tried.’ He seemed to glance obliquelyat Monsieur Rigaud in this remark; but Monsieur Rigaud that the prison-keeper had to stop at last for his littlewhich accompanied them so far down the few steep stairs,daughter11

Charles Dickensto hear the song out, and repeat the Refrain while they were his nose came down.yet in sight. Then the child’s head disappeared, and the prisonkeeper’shead disappeared, but the little voice prolonged the ‘A little dry, but I have my old sauce here,’ returned John‘How do you find the bread?’strain until the door clashed.Baptist, holding up his knife. ‘How sauce?’Monsieur Rigaud, finding the listening John Baptist in his way ‘I can cut my bread so—like a melon. Or so—like an omelette.Or so—like a fried fish. Or so—like Lyons sausage,’before the echoes had ceased (even the echoes were theweaker for imprisonment, and seemed to lag), reminded him said John Baptist, demonstrating the various cuts on the breadwith a push of his foot that he had better resume his own darker he held, and soberly chewing what he had in his mouth.place. The little man sat down again upon the pavement with ‘Here!’ cried Monsieur Rigaud. ‘You may drink. You maythe negligent ease of one who was thoroughly accustomed to finish this.’pavements; and placing three hunks of coarse bread before It was no great gift, for there was mighty little wine left; buthimself, and falling to upon a fourth, began contentedly to work Signor Cavalletto, jumping to his feet, received the bottle gratefully,turned it upside down at his mouth, and smacked his lips.his way through them as if to clear them off were a sort ofgame.‘Put the bottle by with the rest,’ said Rigaud.Perhaps he glanced at the Lyons sausage, and perhaps he The little man obeyed his orders, and stood ready to giveglanced at the veal in savoury jelly, but they were not there him a lighted match; for he was now rolling his tobacco intolong, to make his mouth water; Monsieur Rigaud soon dispatchedthem, in spite of the president and tribunal, and pro-brought in with it.cigarettes by the aid of little squares of paper which had beenceeded to suck his fingers as clean as he could, and to wipe ‘Here! You may have one.’them on his vine leaves. Then, as he paused in his drink to ‘A thousand thanks, my master!’ John Baptist said in hiscontemplate his fellow-prisoner, his moustache went up, and own language, and with the quick conciliatory manner of his12

Little Dorrit – Book Oneown countrymen.‘Surely, surely!’Monsieur Rigaud arose, lighted a cigarette, put the rest of ‘How long have we been here?’ ‘I, eleven weeks, to-morrownight at midnight. You, nine weeks and three days, at fivehis stock into a breast-pocket, and stretched himself out at fulllength upon the bench. Cavalletto sat down on the pavement, this afternoon.’holding one of his ankles in each hand, and smoking peacefully.There seemed to be some uncomfortable attraction of or spread the mats, or rolled them up, or found the draughts,‘Have I ever done anything here? Ever touched the broom,Monsieur Rigaud’s eyes to the immediate neighbourhood of or collected the dominoes, or put my hand to any kind ofthat part of the pavement where the thumb had been in the work?’plan. They were so drawn in that direction, that the Italian ‘Never!’more than once followed them to and back from the pavement ‘Have you ever thought of looking to me to do any kind ofin some surprise.work?’‘What an infernal hole this is!’ said Monsieur Rigaud, breakinga long pause. ‘Look at the light of day. Day? the light of of the right forefinger which is the most expressive negative inJohn Baptist answered with that peculiar back-handed shakeyesterday week, the light of six months ago, the light of six the Italian language.years ago. So slack and dead!’‘No! You knew from the first moment when you saw meIt came languishing down a square funnel that blinded a windowin the staircase wall, through which the sky was never ‘Altro!’ returned John Baptist, closing his eyes and givinghere, that I was a gentleman?’seen—nor anything else.his head a most vehement toss. The word being, according to‘Cavalletto,’ said Monsieur Rigaud, suddenly withdrawing its Genoese emphasis, a confirmation, a contradiction, an assertion,a denial, a taunt, a compliment, a joke, and fifty otherhis gaze from this funnel to which they had both involuntarilyturned their eyes, ‘you know me for a gentleman?’things, became in the present instance, with a significance be-13

Charles Dickensyond all power of written expression, our familiar English ‘I Come! Shall I tell you on what accusation? It must be now, orbelieve you!’never, for I shall not return here. Either I shall go free, or I shall‘Haha! You are right! A gentleman I am! And a gentleman go to be made ready for shaving. You know where they keepI’ll live, and a gentleman I’ll die! It’s my intent to be a gentleman.It’s my game. Death of my soul, I play it out wherever I Signor Cavalletto took his cigarette from between his partedthe razor.’go!’lips, and showed more momentary discomfiture than might haveHe changed his posture to a sitting one, crying with a triumphantair:‘I am a’—Monsieur Rigaud stood up to say it—’I am abeen expected.‘Here I am! See me! Shaken out of destiny’s dice-box into cosmopolitan gentleman. I own no particular country. My fatherwas Swiss—Canton de Vaud. My mother was French bythe company of a mere smuggler;—shut up with a poor littlecontraband trader, whose papers are wrong, and whom the blood, English by birth. I myself was born in Belgium. I am apolice lay hold of besides, for placing his boat (as a means of citizen of the world.’getting beyond the frontier) at the disposition of other little His theatrical air, as he stood with one arm on his hip withinpeople whose papers are wrong; and he instinctively recognises the folds of his cloak, together with his manner of disregardingmy position, even by this light and in this place. It’s well done! his companion and addressing the opposite wall instead,By Heaven! I win, however the game goes.’seemed to intimate that he was rehearsing for the President,Again his moustache went up, and his nose came down. whose examination he was shortly to undergo, rather than troublinghimself merely to enlighten so small a person as John‘What’s the hour now?’ he asked, with a dry hot pallor uponhim, rather difficult of association with merriment.Baptist Cavalletto.‘A little half-hour after mid-day.’‘Call me five-and-thirty years of age. I have seen the world.‘Good! The President will have a gentleman before him soon. I have lived here, and lived there, and lived like a gentleman14

Little Dorrit – Book Oneeverywhere. I have been treated and respected as a gentlemanuniversally. If you try to prejudice me by making out that twenty. She had gained a reputation for beauty, and (which is‘Monsieur Barronneau left a widow. She was two-and-I have lived by my wits—how do your lawyers live—your often another thing) was beautiful. I continued to live at thepoliticians—your intriguers—your men of the Exchange?’ Cross of Gold. I married Madame Barronneau. It is not forHe kept his small smooth hand in constant requisition, as if it me to say whether there was any great disparity in such awere a witness to his gentility that had often done him good match. Here I stand, with the contamination of a jail upon me;service before.but it is possible that you may think me better suited to her‘Two years ago I came to Marseilles. I admit that I was than her former husband was.’poor; I had been ill. When your lawyers, your politicians, your He had a certain air of being a handsome man—which heintriguers, your men of the Exchange fall ill, and have not was not; and a certain air of being a well-bred man—which hescraped money together, they become poor. I put up at the was not. It was mere swagger and challenge; but in this particular,as in many others, blustering assertion goes for proof,Cross of Gold,—kept then by Monsieur Henri Barronneau—sixty-five at least, and in a failing state of health. I had lived in half over the world.the house some four months when Monsieur Henri Barronneau ‘Be it as it may, Madame Barronneau approved of me. Thathad the misfortune to die;—at any rate, not a rare misfortune, is not to prejudice me, I hope?’that. It happens without any aid of mine, pretty often.’ His eye happening to light upon John Baptist with this inquiry,that little man briskly shook his head in the negative, andJohn Baptist having smoked his cigarette down to his fingers’ends, Monsieur Rigaud had the magnanimity to throw repeated in an argumentative tone under his breath, altro, altro,him another. He lighted the second at the ashes of the first, and altro, altro—an infinite number of times.smoked on, looking sideways at his companion, who, preoccupiedwith his own case, hardly looked at him.nothing in defence of pride, but I am proud. It is also my‘ Now came the difficulties of our position. I am proud. I saychar-15

Charles Dickensacter to govern. I can’t submit; I must govern. Unfortunately, ‘I am sensitive and brave. I do not advance it as a merit tothe property of Madame Rigaud was settled upon herself. Such be sensitive and brave, but it is my character. If the male relationsof Madame Rigaud had put themselves forward openly,was the insane act of her late husband. More unfortunatelystill, she had relations. When a wife’s relations interpose against I should have known how to deal with them. They knew that,a husband who is a gentleman, who is proud, and who must and their machinations were conducted in secret; consequently,govern, the consequences are inimical to peace. There was Madame Rigaud and I were brought into frequent and unfortunatecollision. Even when I wanted any little sum of moneyyet another source of difference between us. Madame Rigaudwas unfortunately a little vulgar. I sought to improve her mannersand ameliorate her general tone; she (supported in this sion—and I, too, a man whose character it is to govern! Onefor my personal expenses, I could not obtain it without colli-likewise by her relations) resented my endeavours. Quarrels night, Madame Rigaud and myself were walking amicably—Ibegan to arise between us; and, propagated and exaggerated may say like lovers—on a height overhanging the sea. An evilby the slanders of the relations of Madame Rigaud, to become star occasioned Madame Rigaud to advert to her relations; Inotorious to the neighbours. It has been said that I treated reasoned with her on that subject, and remonstrated on theMadame Rigaud with cruelty. I may have been seen to slap want of duty and devotion manifested in her allowing herself toher face—nothing more. I have a light hand; and if I have been be influenced by their jealous animosity towards her husband.seen apparently to correct Madame Rigaud in that manner, I Madame Rigaud retorted; I retorted; Madame Rigaud grewhave done it almost playfully.’warm; I grew warm, and provoked her. I admit it. FranknessIf the playfulness of Monsieur Rigaud were at all expressed is a part of my character. At length, Madame Rigaud, in anby his smile at this point, the relations of Madame Rigaud might access of fury that I must ever deplore, threw herself upon mehave said that they would have much preferred his correcting with screams of passion (no doubt those that were overheardthat unfortunate woman seriously.at some distance), tore my clothes, tore my hair, lacerated my16

Little Dorrit – Book Onehands, trampled and trod the dust, and finally leaped over, ‘Presidents and tribunals are so prejudiced.’dashing herself to death upon the rocks below. Such is the ‘Well,’ cried the other, uneasily flinging the end of his cloaktrain of incidents which malice has perverted into my endeavouringto force from Madame Rigaud a relinquishment of her ‘Truly I think they will,’ murmured John Baptist to himself,over his shoulder with an oath, ‘let them do their worst!’rights; and, on her persistence in a refusal to make the concessionI required, struggling with her—assassinating her!’ Nothing more was said on either side, though they both be-as he bent his head to put his knife in his sash.He stepped aside to the ledge where the vine leaves yet lay gan walking to and fro, and necessarily crossed at every turn.strewn about, collected two or three, and stood wiping his Monsieur Rigaud sometimes stopped, as if he were going tohands upon them, with his back to the light.put his case in a new light, or make some irate remonstrance;‘Well,’ he demanded after a silence, ‘have you nothing to but Signor Cavalletto continuing to go slowly to and fro at asay to all that?’grotesque kind of jog-trot pace with his eyes turned downward,nothing came of these inclinings.‘It’s ugly,’ returned the little man, who had risen, and wasbrightening his knife upon his shoe, as he leaned an arm against By-and-by the noise of the key in the lock arrested themthe wall.both. The sound of voices succeeded, and the tread of feet.‘What do you mean?’ John Baptist polished his knife in silence.prison-keeper slowly ascended the stairs, followed by a guardThe door clashed, the voices and the feet came on, and the‘Do you mean that I have not represented the case correctly?’‘Now, Monsieur Rigaud,’ said he, pausing for a moment atof soldiers.‘Al-tro!’ returned John Baptist. The word was an apology the grate, with his keys in his hands, ‘have the goodness tonow, and stood for ‘Oh, by no means!’come out.’‘What then?’‘I am to depart in state, I see?’ ‘Why, unless you did,’ re-17

Charles Dickensturned the jailer, ‘you might depart in so many pieces that it and eye the freedom beyond, he passed those few moments inwould be difficult to get you together again. There’s a crowd, watching and peering, until the door was closed upon him.Monsieur Rigaud, and it doesn’t love you.’There was an officer in command of the soldiers; a stout,He passed on out of sight, and unlocked and unbarred a low serviceable, profoundly calm man, with his drawn sword in hisdoor in the corner of the chamber. ‘Now,’ said he, as he opened hand, smoking a cigar. He very briefly directed the placing ofit and appeared within, ‘come out.’Monsieur Rigaud in the midst of the party, put himself withThere is no sort of whiteness in all the hues under the sun at consummate indifference at their head, gave the word ‘march!’all like the whiteness of Monsieur Rigaud’s face as it was then. and so they all went jingling down the staircase. The doorNeither is there any expression of the human countenance at clashed—the key turned—and a ray of unusual light, and aall like that expression in every little line of which the frightened breath of unusual air, seemed to have passed through the jail,heart is seen to beat. Both are conventionally compared with vanishing in a tiny wreath of smoke from the cigar.death; but the difference is the whole deep gulf between the Still, in his captivity, like a lower animal—like some impatientape, or roused bear of the smaller species—the prisoner,struggle done, and the fight at its most desperate extremity.He lighted another of his paper cigars at his companion’s; now left solitary, had jumped upon the ledge, to lose no glimpseput it tightly between his teeth; covered his head with a soft of this departure. As he yet stood clasping the grate with bothslouched hat; threw the end of his cloak over his shoulder hands, an uproar broke upon his hearing; yells, shrieks, oaths,again; and walked out into the side gallery on which the door threats, execrations, all comprehended in it, though (as in aopened, without taking any further notice of Signor Cavalletto. storm) nothing but a raging swell of sound distinctly heard.As to that little man himself, his whole attention had become Excited into a still greater resemblance to a caged wild animalby his anxiety to know more, the prisoner leaped nimblyabsorbed in getting near the door and looking out at it. Preciselyas a beast might approach the opened gate of his den down, ran round the chamber, leaped nimbly up again, clasped18

Little Dorrit – Book Onethe grate and tried to shake it, leaped down and ran, leaped men may feebly imitate the goodness of a better order of beings;the long dusty roads and the interminable plains were inup and listened, and never rested until the noise, becomingmore and more distant, had died away. How many better prisonershave worn their noble hearts out so; no man thinking of whispered of the time when it shall give up its dead.repose—and so deep a hush was on the sea, that it scarcelyit; not even the beloved of their souls realising it; great kingsand governors, who had made them captive, careering in theCHAPTER 2 Fellow Travellerssunlight jauntily, and men cheering them on. Even the said greatpersonages dying in bed, making exemplary ends and soundingspeeches; and polite history, more servile than their instru-‘NO MORE OF YESTERDAY’S howling over yonder to-day, Sir; isthere?’ments, embalming them!‘I have heard none.’At last, John Baptist, now able to choose his own spot within‘Then you may be sure there is none. When these peoplethe compass of those walls for the exercise of his faculty ofhowl, they howl to be heard.’going to sleep when he would, lay down upon the bench, with‘Most people do, I suppose.’his face turned over on his crossed arms, and slumbered. In‘Ah! but these people are always howling. Never happyhis submission, in his lightness, in his good humour, in his shortlivedpassion, in his easy contentment with hard bread andotherwise.’‘Do you mean the Marseilles people?’hard stones, in his ready sleep, in his fits and starts, altogether‘I mean the French people. They’re always at it. As toa true son of the land that gave him birth.Marseilles, we know what Marseilles is. It sent the most insurrectionarytune into the world that was ever composed. ItThe wide stare stared itself out for one while; the Sun wentdown in a red, green, golden glory; the stars came out in thecouldn’t exist without allonging and marshonging to somethingheavens, and the fire-flies mimicked them in the lower air, asor other—victory or death, or blazes, or something.’19

Charles DickensThe speaker, with a whimsical good humour upon him all ‘You bear it very well, Mr Meagles,’ said the second speaker,the time, looked over the parapet-wall with the greatest disparagementof Marseilles; and taking up a determined posi-‘No. If you knew the real state of the case, that’s the lastsmiling.tion by putting his hands in his pockets and rattling his money observation you would think of making. I have been wakingat it, apostrophised it with a short laugh.up night after night, and saying, now I have got it, now it has‘Allong and marshong, indeed. It would be more creditable developed itself, now I am in for it, now these fellows areto you, I think, to let other people allong and marshong about making out their case for their precautions. Why, I’d as soontheir lawful business, instead of shutting ‘em up in quarantine!’ have a spit put through me, and be stuck upon a card in a‘Tiresome enough,’ said the other. ‘But we shall be out today.’‘Well, Mr Meagles, say no more about it now it’s over,’collection of beetles, as lead the life I have been leading here.’‘Out to-day!’ repeated the first. ‘It’s almost an aggravation urged a cheerful feminine voice.of the enormity, that we shall be out to-day. Out! What have ‘Over!’ repeated Mr Meagles, who appeared (though withoutany ill-nature) to be in that peculiar state of mind in whichwe ever been in for?’‘For no very strong reason, I must say. But as we come the last word spoken by anybody else is a new injury. ‘Over!from the East, and as the East is the country of the plague—’ and why should I say no more about it because it’s over?’‘The plague!’ repeated the other. ‘That’s my grievance. I It was Mrs Meagles who had spoken to Mr Meagles; andhave had the plague continually, ever since I have been here. I Mrs Meagles was, like Mr Meagles, comely and healthy, witham like a sane man shut up in a madhouse; I can’t stand the a pleasant English face which had been looking at homely thingssuspicion of the thing. I came here as well as ever I was in my for five-and-fifty years or more, and shone with a bright reflectionof them.life; but to suspect me of the plague is to give me the plague.And I have had it—and I have got it.’‘There! Never mind, Father, never mind!’ said Mrs Meagles.20

Little Dorrit – Book One‘For goodness sake content yourself with Pet.’better go along with Mother and get ready for the boat. The‘With Pet?’ repeated Mr Meagles in his injured vein. Pet, officer of health, and a variety of humbugs in cocked hats, arehowever, being close behind him, touched him on the shoulder,and Mr Meagles immediately forgave Marseilles from the to breakfast together in something approaching to a Christiancoming off to let us out of this at last: and all we jail-birds arebottom of his heart.style again, before we take wing for our different destinations.Pet was about twenty. A fair girl with rich brown hair hangingfree in natural ringlets. A lovely girl, with a frank face, and He spoke to a handsome girl with lustrous dark hair andTattycoram, stick you close to your young mistress.’wonderful eyes; so large, so soft, so bright, set to such perfectionin her kind good head. She was round and fresh and as she passed off in the train of Mrs Meagles and Pet. Theyeyes, and very neatly dressed, who replied with a half curtseydimpled and spoilt, and there was in Pet an air of timidity and crossed the bare scorched terrace all three together, and disappearedthrough a staring white archway. Mr Meagles’s com-dependence which was the best weakness in the world, andgave her the only crowning charm a girl so pretty and pleasant panion, a grave dark man of forty, still stood looking towardscould have been without.this archway after they were gone; until Mr Meagles tapped‘Now, I ask you,’ said Mr Meagles in the blandest confidence,falling back a step himself, and handing his daughter a ‘I beg your pardon,’ said he, starting.him on the arm.step forward to illustrate his question: ‘I ask you simply, as ‘Not at all,’ said Mr Meagles.between man and man, you know, DID you ever hear of such They took one silent turn backward and forward in the shadedamned nonsense as putting Pet in quarantine?’of the wall, getting, at the height on which the quarantine barracksare placed, what cool refreshment of sea breeze there‘It has had the result of making even quarantine enjoyable.’‘Come!’ said Mr Meagles, ‘that’s something to be sure. I am was at seven in the morning. Mr Meagles’s companion resumedthe obliged to you for that remark. Now, Pet, my darling, you hadconversation.21

Charles Dickens‘May I ask you,’ he said, ‘what is the name of—’ Mother (my usual name for Mrs Meagles) began to cry so,‘Tattycoram?’ Mr Meagles struck in. ‘I have not the least that it was necessary to take her out. “What’s the matter,idea.’Mother?” said I, when we had brought her a little round: “you‘I thought,’ said the other, ‘that—’are frightening Pet, my dear.” “Yes, I know that, Father,” says‘Tattycoram?’ suggested Mr Meagles again.Mother, “but I think it’s through my loving her so much, that it‘Thank you—that Tattycoram was a name; and I have severaltimes wondered at the oddity of it.’head, Mother?” “O dear, dear!” cried Mother, breaking outever came into my head.” “That ever what came into your‘Why, the fact is,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘Mrs Meagles and myself again, “when I saw all those children ranged tier above tier,are, you see, practical people.’and appealing from the father none of them has ever known on‘That you have frequently mentioned in the course of the earth, to the great Father of us all in Heaven, I thought, doesagreeable and interesting conversations we have had together, any wretched mother ever come here, and look among thosewalking up and down on these stones,’ said the other, with a young faces, wondering which is the poor child she broughthalf smile breaking through the gravity of his dark face. into this forlorn world, never through all its life to know her‘Practical people. So one day, five or six years ago now, love, her kiss, her face, her voice, even her name!” Now thatwhen we took Pet to church at the Foundling—you have heard was practical in Mother, and I told her so. I said, “Mother,of the Foundling Hospital in London? Similar to the Institution that’s what I call practical in you, my dear.”’for the Found Children in Paris?’The other, not unmoved, assented.‘I have seen it.’‘So I said next day: Now, Mother, I have a proposition to‘Well! One day when we took Pet to church there to hear make that I think you’ll approve of. Let us take one of thosethe music—because, as practical people, it is the business of same little children to be a little maid to Pet. We are practicalour lives to show her everything that we think can please her— people. So if we should find her temper a little defective, or22

Little Dorrit – Book Oneany of her ways a little wide of ours, we shall know what we ‘Then,’ said Mr Meagles, laying his forefinger on hishave to take into account. We shall know what an immense companion’s breast with great animation, ‘don’t you see adeduction must be made from all the influences and experiencesthat have formed us—no parents, no child-brother or fig, coming down a street on a Sunday at the head of a charitybeadle, now, if you can help it. Whenever I see a beadle in fullsister, no individuality of home, no Glass Slipper, or Fairy school, I am obliged to turn and run away, or I should hit him.Godmother. And that’s the way we came by Tattycoram.’ The name of Beadle being out of the question, and the originatorof the Institution for these poor foundlings having been a‘And the name itself—’‘By George!’ said Mr Meagles, ‘I was forgetting the name blessed creature of the name of Coram, we gave that name toitself. Why, she was called in the Institution, Harriet Beadle—an Pet’s little maid. At one time she was Tatty, and at one timearbitrary name, of course. Now, Harriet we changed into Hattey, she was Coram, until we got into a way of mixing the twoand then into Tatty, because, as practical people, we thought names together, and now she is always Tattycoram.’even a playful name might be a new thing to her, and might have ‘Your daughter,’ said the other, when they had taken anothersilent turn to and fro, and, after standing for a moment ata softening and affectionate kind of effect, don’t you see? As toBeadle, that I needn’t say was wholly out of the question. If the wall glancing down at the sea, had resumed their walk, ‘isthere is anything that is not to be tolerated on any terms, anythingthat is a type of Jack-in-office insolence and absurdity, impertinent curiosity, but because I have had so much plea-your only child, I know, Mr Meagles. May I ask you—in noanything that represents in coats, waistcoats, and big sticks our sure in your society, may never in this labyrinth of a worldEnglish holding on by nonsense after every one has found it out, exchange a quiet word with you again, and wish to preserveit is a beadle. You haven’t seen a beadle lately?’an accurate remembrance of you and yours—may I ask you,‘As an Englishman who has been more than twenty years in if I have not gathered from your good wife that you have hadChina, no.’other children?’23

Charles Dickens‘No. No,’ said Mr Meagles. ‘Not exactly other children. that if I was to pass into the other world to-morrow, I shouldOne other child.’not, through the mercy of God, be received there by a daughter,just like Pet, as to persuade me that Pet herself is not a‘I am afraid I have inadvertently touched upon a tendertheme.’reality at my side.’ ‘I understand you,’ said the other, gently.‘Never mind,’ said Mr Meagles. ‘If I am grave about it, I ‘As to her,’ pursued her father, ‘the sudden loss of her littleam not at all sorrowful. It quiets me for a moment, but does picture and playfellow, and her early association with that mysteryin which we all have our equal share, but which is notnot make me unhappy. Pet had a twin sister who died whenwe could just see her eyes—exactly like Pet’s—above the often so forcibly presented to a child, has necessarily had sometable, as she stood on tiptoe holding by it.’influence on her character. Then, her mother and I were not‘Ah! indeed, indeed!’young when we married, and Pet has always had a sort of‘Yes, and being practical people, a result has gradually sprung grown-up life with us, though we have tried to adapt ourselvesup in the minds of Mrs Meagles and myself which perhaps you to her. We have been advised more than once when she hasmay—or perhaps you may not—understand. Pet and her baby been a little ailing, to change climate and air for her as often assister were so exactly alike, and so completely one, that in our we could—especially at about this time of her life—and tothoughts we have never been able to separate them since. It keep her amused. So, as I have no need to stick at a bankdesknow (though I have been poor enough in my time I as-would be of no use to tell us that our dead child was a mereinfant. We have changed that child according to the changes in sure you, or I should have married Mrs Meagles long before),the child spared to us and always with us. As Pet has grown, we go trotting about the world. This is how you found us staringat the Nile, and the Pyramids, and the Sphinxes, and thethat child has grown; as Pet has become more sensible andwomanly, her sister has become more sensible and womanly Desert, and all the rest of it; and this is how Tattycoram will beby just the same degrees. It would be as hard to convince me a greater traveller in course of time than Captain Cook.’24

Little Dorrit – Book One‘I thank you,’ said the other, ‘very heartily for your confidence.’‘Light ‘em up again!’ said Mr Meagles.guished before I could sound the words.’‘Don’t mention it,’ returned Mr Meagles, ‘I am sure you are ‘Ah! Easily said. I am the son, Mr Meagles, of a hard fatherquite welcome. And now, Mr Clennam, perhaps I may ask and mother. I am the only child of parents who weighed, measured,and priced everything; for whom what could not beyou whether you have yet come to a decision where to gonext?’weighed, measured, and priced, had no existence. Strict people‘Indeed, no. I am such a waif and stray everywhere, that I as the phrase is, professors of a stern religion, their very religionwas a gloomy sacrifice of tastes and sympathies that weream liable to be drifted where any current may set.’‘It’s extraordinary to me—if you’ll excuse my freedom in never their own, offered up as a part of a bargain for the securityof their possessions. Austere faces, inexorable discipline,saying so—that you don’t go straight to London,’ said MrMeagles, in the tone of a confidential adviser.penance in this world and terror in the next—nothing graceful‘Perhaps I shall.’or gentle anywhere, and the void in my cowed heart everywhere—thiswas my childhood, if I may so misuse the word‘Ay! But I mean with a will.’‘I have no will. That is to say,’—he coloured a little,—’next as to apply it to such a beginning of life.’to none that I can put in action now. Trained by main force; ‘Really though?’ said Mr Meagles, made very uncomfortableby the picture offered to his imagination. ‘That was a toughbroken, not bent; heavily ironed with an object on which I wasnever consulted and which was never mine; shipped away to commencement. But come! You must now study, and profitthe other end of the world before I was of age, and exiled by, all that lies beyond it, like a practical man.’there until my father’s death there, a year ago; always grinding ‘If the people who are usually called practical, were practicalin your direction—’in a mill I always hated; what is to be expected from me inmiddle life? Will, purpose, hope? All those lights were extin-‘Why, so they are!’ said Mr Meagles.25

Charles Dickens‘Are they indeed?’was excluded by closed lattices, and where bare paved floors,‘Well, I suppose so,’ returned Mr Meagles, thinking about lofty ceilings, and resounding corridors tempered the intenseit. ‘Eh?heat. There, a great table in a great room was soon profuselyOne can but be practical, and Mrs Meagles and myself are covered with a superb repast; and the quarantine quartersnothing else.’became bare indeed, remembered among dainty dishes, southernfruits, cooled wines, flowers from Genoa, snow from the‘My unknown course is easier and more helpful than I hadexpected to find it, then,’ said Clennam, shaking his head with mountain tops, and all the colours of the rainbow flashing inhis grave smile. ‘Enough of me. Here is the boat.’the mirrors.The boat was filled with the cocked hats to which Mr Meagles ‘But I bear those monotonous walls no ill-will now,’ said Mrentertained a national objection; and the wearers of those Meagles. ‘One always begins to forgive a place as soon as it’scocked hats landed and came up the steps, and all the impoundedtravellers congregated together. There was then a prison, after he is let out.’left behind; I dare say a prisoner begins to relent towards hismighty production of papers on the part of the cocked hats, They were about thirty in company, and all talking; but necessarilyin groups. Father and Mother Meagles sat with theirand a calling over of names, and great work of signing, sealing,stamping, inking, and sanding, with exceedingly blurred, gritty, daughter between them, the last three on one side of the table:and undecipherable results. Finally, everything was done accordingto rule, and the travellers were at liberty to depart with raven hair and beard, of a swart and terrible, not to sayon the opposite side sat Mr Clennam; a tall French gentlemanwhithersoever they would.genteelly diabolical aspect, but who had shown himself theThey made little account of stare and glare, in the new pleasureof recovering their freedom, but flitted across the harbour ling quite alone, who had a proud observant face, and hadmildest of men; and a handsome young Englishwoman, travel-in gay boats, and reassembled at a great hotel, whence the sun either withdrawn herself from the rest or been avoided by the26

Little Dorrit – Book Onerest—nobody, herself excepted perhaps, could have quite Pet had to translate this passage to Mr Meagles, who neverdecided which. The rest of the party were of the usual materials:travellers on business, and travellers for pleasure; officers guage of any country into which he travelled. ‘Oh!’ said he.by any accident acquired any knowledge whatever of the lan-from India on leave; merchants in the Greek and Turkey trades; ‘Dear me! But that’s a pity, isn’t it?’a clerical English husband in a meek strait-waistcoat, on a ‘That I am not credulous?’ said Miss Wade.wedding trip with his young wife; a majestic English mama and ‘Not exactly that. Put it another way. That you can’t believepapa, of the patrician order, with a family of three growing-up it easy to forgive.’daughters, who were keeping a journal for the confusion of ‘My experience,’ she quietly returned, ‘has been correctingtheir fellow-creatures; and a deaf old English mother, tough in my belief in many respects, for some years. It is our naturaltravel, with a very decidedly grown-up daughter indeed, which progress, I have heard.’daughter went sketching about the universe in the expectation ‘Well, well! But it’s not natural to bear malice, I hope?’ saidof ultimately toning herself off into the married state. Mr Meagles, cheerily.The reserved Englishwoman took up Mr Meagles in his last ‘If I had been shut up in any place to pine and suffer, I shouldremark. ‘Do you mean that a prisoner forgives his prison?’ always hate that place and wish to burn it down, or raze it tosaid she, slowly and with emphasis.the ground. I know no more.’ ‘Strong, sir?’ said Mr Meagles‘That was my speculation, Miss Wade. I don’t pretend to to the Frenchman; it being another of his habits to addressknow positively how a prisoner might feel. I never was one individuals of all nations in idiomatic English, with a perfectbefore.’conviction that they were bound to understand it somehow.‘Mademoiselle doubts,’ said the French gentleman in his own ‘Rather forcible in our fair friend, you’ll agree with me, I think?’language, ‘it’s being so easy to forgive?’The French gentleman courteously replied, ‘Plait-il?’ To‘I do.’which Mr Meagles returned with much satisfaction, ‘You are27

Charles Dickensright. My opinion.’The shadow in which she sat, falling like a gloomy veil acrossThe breakfast beginning by-and-by to languish, Mr Meagles her forehead, accorded very well with the character of hermade the company a speech. It was short enough and sensible beauty. One could hardly see the face, so still and scornful, setenough, considering that it was a speech at all, and hearty. It off by the arched dark eyebrows, and the folds of dark hair,merely went to the effect that as they had all been thrown togetherby chance, and had all preserved a good understanding came over it. That it could soften or relent, appeared next towithout wondering what its expression would be if a changetogether, and were now about to disperse, and were not likely impossible. That it could deepen into anger or any extreme ofever to find themselves all together again, what could they do defiance, and that it must change in that direction when itbetter than bid farewell to one another, and give one another changed at all, would have been its peculiar impression upongood-speed in a simultaneous glass of cool champagne all round most observers. It was dressed and trimmed into no ceremonythe table? It was done, and with a general shaking of hands the of expression. Although not an open face, there was no pretencein it. ‘I am self-contained and self-reliant; your opinion isassembly broke up for ever.The solitary young lady all this time had said no more. She nothing to me; I have no interest in you, care nothing for you,rose with the rest, and silently withdrew to a remote corner of and see and hear you with indifference’—this it said plainly. Itthe great room, where she sat herself on a couch in a window, said so in the proud eyes, in the lifted nostril, in the handsomeseeming to watch the reflection of the water as it made a silver but compressed and even cruel mouth. Cover either two ofquivering on the bars of the lattice. She sat, turned away from those channels of expression, and the third would have said sothe whole length of the apartment, as if she were lonely of her still. Mask them all, and the mere turn of the head would haveown haughty choice. And yet it would have been as difficult as shown an unsubduable nature.ever to say, positively, whether she avoided the rest, or was Pet had moved up to her (she had been the subject of remarkamong her family and Mr Clennam, who were now avoided.the28

Little Dorrit – Book Oneonly other occupants of the room), and was standing at her ‘Very glad,’ said Mr Meagles, coming forward with his wifeside.and Clennam. ‘Anything short of speaking the language, I shall‘Are you’—she turned her eyes, and Pet faltered—’expectingany one to meet you here, Miss Wade?’‘I am obliged to you,’ she returned, ‘but my arrangementsbe delighted to undertake, I am sure.’‘I? No.’are made, and I prefer to go my own way in my own manner.’‘Father is sending to the Poste Restante. Shall he have the ‘Do you?’ said Mr Meagles to himself, as he surveyed herpleasure of directing the messenger to ask if there are any with a puzzled look. ‘Well! There’s character in that, too.’letters for you?’‘I am not much used to the society of young ladies, and I am‘I thank him, but I know there can be none.’afraid I may not show my appreciation of it as others might. A‘We are afraid,’ said Pet, sitting down beside her, shyly and pleasant journey to you. Good-bye!’half tenderly, ‘that you will feel quite deserted when we are all She would not have put out her hand, it seemed, but that Mrgone.’Meagles put out his so straight before her that she could not‘Indeed!’pass it. She put hers in it, and it lay there just as it had lain upon‘Not,’ said Pet, apologetically and embarrassed by her eyes, the couch.‘not, of course, that we are any company to you, or that we ‘Good-bye!’ said Mr Meagles. ‘This is the last good-byehave been able to be so, or that we thought you wished it.’ upon the list, for Mother and I have just said it to Mr Clennam‘I have not intended to make it understood that I did wish it.’ here, and he only waits to say it to Pet. Good-bye! We may‘No. Of course. But—in short,’ said Pet, timidly touching never meet again.’her hand as it lay impassive on the sofa between them, ‘will ‘In our course through life we shall meet the people who areyou not allow Father to tender you any slight assistance or coming to meet us, from many strange places and by manyservice? He will be very glad.’strange roads,’ was the composed reply; ‘and what it is set to29

Charles Dickensus to do to them, and what it is set to them to do to us, will all gallery in which her room was, she heard an angry sound ofbe done.’ There was something in the manner of these words muttering and sobbing. A door stood open, and within shethat jarred upon Pet’s ear. It implied that what was to be done saw the attendant upon the girl she had just left; the maid withwas necessarily evil, and it caused her to say in a whisper, ‘O the curious name.Father!’ and to shrink childishly, in her spoilt way, a little closer She stood still, to look at this maid. A sullen, passionate girl!to him. This was not lost on the speaker.Her rich black hair was all about her face, her face was flushed‘Your pretty daughter,’ she said, ‘starts to think of such things. and hot, and as she sobbed and raged, she plucked at her lipsYet,’ looking full upon her, ‘you may be sure that there are with an unsparing hand.men and women already on their road, who have their businessto do with you, and who will do it. Of a certainty they will whiles. ‘Not caring what becomes of me! Leaving me here‘Selfish brutes!’ said the girl, sobbing and heaving betweendo it. They may be coming hundreds, thousands, of miles over hungry and thirsty and tired, to starve, for anything they care!the sea there; they may be close at hand now; they may be Beasts! Devils! Wretches!’coming, for anything you know or anything you can do to preventit, from the vilest sweepings of this very town.’She looked up suddenly, with reddened eyes, and with her‘My poor girl, what is the matter?’With the coldest of farewells, and with a certain worn expressionon her beauty that gave it, though scarcely yet in its figured with great scarlet blots. ‘It’s nothing to you what’s thehands suspended, in the act of pinching her neck, freshly dis-prime, a wasted look, she left the room.matter. It don’t signify to any one.’Now, there were many stairs and passages that she had to ‘O yes it does; I am sorry to see you so.’traverse in passing from that part of the spacious house to the ‘You are not sorry,’ said the girl. ‘You are glad. You knowchamber she had secured for her own occupation. When she you are glad. I never was like this but twice over in the quarantineyonder; and both times you found me. I am afraid of had almost completed the journey, and was passing along theyou.’30

Little Dorrit – Book One‘Afraid of me?’‘Hush! Be more prudent. You forget your dependent position.’‘Yes. You seem to come like my own anger, my own malice,my own—whatever it is—I don’t know what it is. But I ‘I don’t care for that. I’ll run away. I’ll do some mischief. Iam ill-used, I am ill-used, I am ill-used!’ Here the sobs and the won’t bear it; I can’t bear it; I shall die if I try to bear it!’tears, and the tearing hand, which had all been suspended togethersince the first surprise, went on together anew. ing at the girl, as one afflicted with a diseased part might curi-The observer stood with her hand upon her own bosom, look-The visitor stood looking at her with a strange attentive smile. ously watch the dissection and exposition of an analogous case.It was wonderful to see the fury of the contest in the girl, and The girl raged and battled with all the force of her youth andthe bodily struggle she made as if she were rent by the Demonsof old.tions trailed off into broken murmurs as if she were in pain. Byfulness of life, until by little and little her passionate exclama-‘I am younger than she is by two or three years, and yet it’s corresponding degrees she sank into a chair, then upon herme that looks after her, as if I was old, and it’s she that’s alwayspetted and called Baby! I detest the name. I hate her! erlet with her, half to hide her shamed head and wet hair in it,knees, then upon the ground beside the bed, drawing the cov-They make a fool of her, they spoil her. She thinks of nothing and half, as it seemed, to embrace it, rather than have nothingbut herself, she thinks no more of me than if I was a stock and to take to her repentant breast.a stone!’ So the girl went on.‘Go away from me, go away from me! When my temper‘You must have patience.’comes upon me, I am mad. I know I might keep it off if I only‘I won’t have patience!’tried hard enough, and sometimes I do try hard enough, and at‘If they take much care of themselves, and little or none of other times I don’t and won’t. What have I said! I knew whenyou, you must not mind it.’I said it, it was all lies. They think I am being taken care ofI will mind it.’somewhere, and have all I want.31

Charles DickensThey are nothing but good to me. I love them dearly; noCHAPTER 3 Homepeople could ever be kinder to a thankless creature than theyalways are to me. Do, do go away, for I am afraid of you. I amafraid of myself when I feel my temper coming, and I am asmuch afraid of you. Go away from me, and let me pray andcry myself better!’ The day passed on; and again the widestare stared itself out; and the hot night was on Marseilles; andthrough it the caravan of the morning, all dispersed, went theirappointed ways. And thus ever by day and night, under thesun and under the stars, climbing the dusty hills and toilingalong the weary plains, journeying by land and journeying bysea, coming and going so strangely, to meet and to act andreact on one another, move all we restless travellers throughthe pilgrimage of life.IT WAS A SUNDAY evening in London, gloomy, close, and stale.Maddening church bells of all degrees of dissonance, sharpand flat, cracked and clear, fast and slow, made the brickand-mortarechoes hideous. Melancholy streets, in a penitentialgarb of soot, steeped the souls of the people who werecondemned to look at them out of windows, in dire despondency.In every thoroughfare, up almost every alley, and downalmost every turning, some doleful bell was throbbing, jerking,tolling, as if the Plague were in the city and the dead-cartswere going round. Everything was bolted and barred that couldby possibility furnish relief to an overworked people. No pictures,no unfamiliar animals, no rare plants or flowers, no naturalor artificial wonders of the ancient world—all taboo withthat enlightened strictness, that the ugly South Sea gods in theBritish Museum might have supposed themselves at home again.Nothing to see but streets, streets, streets. Nothing to breathebut streets, streets, streets. Nothing to change the broodingmind, or raise it up. Nothing for the spent toiler to do, but tocompare the monotony of his seventh day with the monotony32

Little Dorrit – Book Oneof his six days, think what a weary life he led, and make the the sweet sameness of which they had no escape between thebest of it—or the worst, according to the probabilities. cradle and the grave—what secular want could they possiblyAt such a happy time, so propitious to the interests of religionand morality, Mr Arthur Clennam, newly arrived from but a stringent policeman.have upon their seventh day? Clearly they could want nothingMarseilles by way of Dover, and by Dover coach the BlueeyedMaid, sat in the window of a coffee-house on Ludgate on Ludgate Hill, counting one of the neighbouring bells, mak-Mr Arthur Clennam sat in the window of the coffee-houseHill. Ten thousand responsible houses surrounded him, frowningas heavily on the streets they composed, as if they were and wondering how many sick people it might be the death ofing sentences and burdens of songs out of it in spite of himself,every one inhabited by the ten young men of the Calender’s in the course of the year. As the hour approached, its changesstory, who blackened their faces and bemoaned their miseries of measure made it more and more exasperating. At the quarter,it went off into a condition of deadly-lively importunity,every night. Fifty thousand lairs surrounded him where peoplelived so unwholesomely that fair water put into their crowded urging the populace in a voluble manner to Come to church,rooms on Saturday night, would be corrupt on Sunday morning;albeit my lord, their county member, was amazed that they came aware that the congregation would be scanty, and slowlyCome to church, Come to church! At the ten minutes, it be-failed to sleep in company with their butcher’s meat. Miles of hammered out in low spirits, They won’t come, they won’tclose wells and pits of houses, where the inhabitants gasped come, they won’t come! At the five minutes, it abandonedfor air, stretched far away towards every point of the compass.Through the heart of the town a deadly sewer ebbed hundred seconds, with one dismal swing per second, as a groanhope, and shook every house in the neighbourhood for threeand flowed, in the place of a fine fresh river. What secular of despair.want could the million or so of human beings whose daily labour, ‘Thank Heaven!’ said Clennam, when the hour struck, andsix days in the week, lay among these Arcadian objects, from the bell stopped.33

Charles DickensBut its sound had revived a long train of miserable Sundays, boards, with one dinted ornament on the cover like the drag ofand the procession would not stop with the bell, but continued a chain, and a wrathful sprinkling of red upon the edges of theto march on. ‘Heaven forgive me,’ said he, ‘and those who leaves—as if it, of all books! were a fortification against sweetnessof temper, natural affection, and gentle intercourse. Theretrained me. How I have hated this day!’There was the dreary Sunday of his childhood, when he sat was the resentful Sunday of a little later, when he sat downwith his hands before him, scared out of his senses by a horribletract which commenced business with the poor child by with a sullen sense of injury in his heart, and no more realglowering and glooming through the tardy length of the day,asking him in its title, why he was going to Perdition?—a piece knowledge of the beneficent history of the New Testamentof curiosity that he really, in a frock and drawers, was not in a than if he had been bred among idolaters. There was a legioncondition to satisfy—and which, for the further attraction of of Sundays, all days of unserviceable bitterness and mortification,slowly passing before him. ‘Beg pardon, sir,’ said a briskhis infant mind, had a parenthesis in every other line with somesuch hiccupping reference as 2 Ep. Thess. c. iii, v. 6 & 7. waiter, rubbing the table. ‘Wish see bed-room?’There was the sleepy Sunday of his boyhood, when, like a ‘Yes. I have just made up my mind to do it.’military deserter, he was marched to chapel by a picquet of ‘Chaymaid!’ cried the waiter. ‘Gelen box num seven wishteachers three times a day, morally handcuffed to another boy; see room!’and when he would willingly have bartered two meals of indigestiblesermon for another ounce or two of inferior mutton at what I said; I answered mechanically. I am not going to sleep‘Stay!’ said Clennam, rousing himself. ‘I was not thinking ofhis scanty dinner in the flesh. There was the interminable Sundayof his nonage; when his mother, stern of face and unre-‘Deed, sir? Chaymaid! Gelen box num seven, not go sleephere. I am going home.’lenting of heart, would sit all day behind a Bible—bound, like here, gome.’her own construction of it, in the hardest, barest, and straitest He sat in the same place as the day died, looking at the dull34

Little Dorrit – Book Onehouses opposite, and thinking, if the disembodied spirits of life. In the city, it developed only foul stale smells, and was aformer inhabitants were ever conscious of them, how they must sickly, lukewarm, dirt-stained, wretched addition to the gutters.pity themselves for their old places of imprisonment. Sometimesa face would appear behind the dingy glass of a window, He crossed by St Paul’s and went down, at a long angle,and would fade away into the gloom as if it had seen enough of almost to the water’s edge, through some of the crooked andlife and had vanished out of it. Presently the rain began to fall in descending streets which lie (and lay more crookedly andslanting lines between him and those houses, and people beganto collect under cover of the public passage opposite, and the mouldy hall of some obsolete Worshipful Company, nowclosely then) between the river and Cheapside. Passing, nowto look out hopelessly at the sky as the rain dropped thicker the illuminated windows of a Congregationless Church thatand faster. Then wet umbrellas began to appear, draggled skirts, seemed to be waiting for some adventurous Belzoni to dig itand mud. What the mud had been doing with itself, or where it out and discover its history; passing silent warehouses andcame from, who could say? But it seemed to collect in a moment,as a crowd will, and in five minutes to have splashed all where a wretched little bill, found drowned, was weeping onwharves, and here and there a narrow alley leading to the river,the sons and daughters of Adam. The lamplighter was going the wet wall; he came at last to the house he sought. An oldhis rounds now; and as the fiery jets sprang up under his touch, brick house, so dingy as to be all but black, standing by itselfone might have fancied them astonished at being suffered to within a gateway. Before it, a square court-yard where a shrubintroduce any show of brightness into such a dismal scene. or two and a patch of grass were as rank (which is sayingMr Arthur Clennam took up his hat and buttoned his coat, much) as the iron railings enclosing them were rusty; behind it,and walked out. In the country, the rain would have developeda thousand fresh scents, and every drop would have had heavily-framed windows. Many years ago, it had had it in itsa jumble of roots. It was a double house, with long, narrow,its bright association with some beautiful form of growth or mind to slide down sideways; it had been propped up, how-35

Charles Dickensever, and was leaning on some half-dozen gigantic crutches: ‘but you don’t come up to your father in my opinion. Nor yetwhich gymnasium for the neighbouring cats, weather-stained, your mother.’smoke-blackened, and overgrown with weeds, appeared in ‘How is my mother?’these latter days to be no very sure reliance.‘She is as she always is now. Keeps her room when not‘Nothing changed,’ said the traveller, stopping to look round. actually bedridden, and hasn’t been out of it fifteen times in as‘Dark and miserable as ever. A light in my mother’s window, many years, Arthur.’ They had walked into a spare, meagrewhich seems never to have been extinguished since I came dining-room. The old man had put the candlestick upon thehome twice a year from school, and dragged my box over this table, and, supporting his right elbow with his left hand, waspavement. Well, well, well!’smoothing his leathern jaws while he looked at the visitor. TheHe went up to the door, which had a projecting canopy in visitor offered his hand. The old man took it coldly enough,carved work of festooned jack-towels and children’s heads and seemed to prefer his jaws, to which he returned as soonwith water on the brain, designed after a once-popular monumentalpattern, and knocked. A shuffling step was soon heard ‘I doubt if your mother will approve of your coming homeas he could.on the stone floor of the hall, and the door was opened by an on the Sabbath, Arthur,’ he said, shaking his head warily.old man, bent and dried, but with keen eyes.‘You wouldn’t have me go away again?’He had a candle in his hand, and he held it up for a moment ‘Oh! I? I? I am not the master. It’s not what _I_ wouldto assist his keen eyes. ‘Ah, Mr Arthur?’ he said, without any have. I have stood between your father and mother for a numberof years. I don’t pretend to stand between your motheremotion, ‘you are come at last? Step in.’Mr Arthur stepped in and shut the door.and you.’‘Your figure is filled out, and set,’ said the old man, turning ‘Will you tell her that I have come home?’to look at him with the light raised again, and shaking his head; ‘Yes, Arthur, yes. Oh, to be sure! I’ll tell her that you have36

Little Dorrit – Book Onecome home. Please to wait here. You won’t find the room ings yet. He subdued it, took up the candle, and examined thechanged.’room. The old articles of furniture were in their old places; theHe took another candle from a cupboard, lighted it, left the Plagues of Egypt, much the dimmer for the fly and smokefirst on the table, and went upon his errand. He was a short, plagues of London, were framed and glazed upon the walls.bald old man, in a high-shouldered black coat and waistcoat, There was the old cellaret with nothing in it, lined with lead,drab breeches, and long drab gaiters. He might, from his dress, like a sort of coffin in compartments; there was the old darkhave been either clerk or servant, and in fact had long been closet, also with nothing in it, of which he had been many aboth. There was nothing about him in the way of decoration time the sole contents, in days of punishment, when he hadbut a watch, which was lowered into the depths of its proper regarded it as the veritable entrance to that bourne to whichpocket by an old black ribbon, and had a tarnished copper the tract had found him galloping. There was the large, hardfeaturedclock on the sideboard, which he used to see bend-key moored above it, to show where it was sunk. His headwas awry, and he had a one-sided, crab-like way with him, as ing its figured brows upon him with a savage joy when he wasif his foundations had yielded at about the same time as those behind-hand with his lessons, and which, when it was woundof the house, and he ought to have been propped up in a similarmanner.growling in ferocious anticipation of the miseries into which itup once a week with an iron handle, used to sound as if it were‘How weak am I,’ said Arthur Clennam, when he was gone, would bring him. But here was the old man come back, saying,‘Arthur, I’ll go before and light you.’‘that I could shed tears at this reception! I, who have neverexperienced anything else; who have never expected anything Arthur followed him up the staircase, which was panelledelse.’ He not only could, but did. It was the momentary yieldingof a nature that had been disappointed from the dawn of its chamber, the floor of which had gradually so sunk and settled,off into spaces like so many mourning tablets, into a dim bed-perceptions, but had not quite given up all its hopeful yearn-that the fire-place was in a dell. On a black bier-like sofa in37

Charles Dickensthis hollow, propped up behind with one great angular black set my heart upon its hollow vanities.’bolster like the block at a state execution in the good old times, The old influence of her presence and her stern strong voice,sat his mother in a widow’s dress.so gathered about her son, that he felt conscious of a renewalShe and his father had been at variance from his earliest of the timid chill and reserve of his childhood.remembrance. To sit speechless himself in the midst of rigid ‘Do you never leave your room, mother?’silence, glancing in dread from the one averted face to the ‘What with my rheumatic affection, and what with its attendantdebility or nervous weakness—names are of no matterother, had been the peacefullest occupation of his childhood.She gave him one glassy kiss, and four stiff fingers muffled in now—I have lost the use of my limbs. I never leave my room.worsted. This embrace concluded, he sat down on the oppositeside of her little table. There was a fire in the grate, as there she said, speaking over her shoulder.I have not been outside this door for—tell him for how long,’had been night and day for fifteen years. There was a kettle on ‘A dozen year next Christmas,’ returned a cracked voicethe hob, as there had been night and day for fifteen years. out of the dimness behind.There was a little mound of damped ashes on the top of the ‘Is that Affery?’ said Arthur, looking towards it.fire, and another little mound swept together under the grate, The cracked voice replied that it was Affery: and an oldas there had been night and day for fifteen years. There was a woman came forward into what doubtful light there was, andsmell of black dye in the airless room, which the fire had been kissed her hand once; then subsided again into the dimness.drawing out of the crape and stuff of the widow’s dress for ‘I am able,’ said Mrs Clennam, with a slight motion of herfifteen months, and out of the bier-like sofa for fifteen years. worsted-muffled right hand toward a chair on wheels, standingbefore a tall writing cabinet close shut up, ‘I am able to‘Mother, this is a change from your old active habits.’‘The world has narrowed to these dimensions, Arthur,’ she attend to my business duties, and I am thankful for the privilege.It is a great privilege. But no more of business on rep lied, glancing round the room. ‘It is well for me that I neverthis38

Little Dorrit – Book Oneday. It is a bad night, is it not?’‘I keep it here as a remembrance of your father.’‘Yes, mother.’‘It was not until the last, that he expressed the wish; when he‘Does it snow?’could only put his hand upon it, and very indistinctly say to me‘Snow, mother? And we only yet in September?’“your mother.” A moment before, I thought him wandering in‘All seasons are alike to me,’ she returned, with a grim kind his mind, as he had been for many hours—I think he had noof luxuriousness. ‘I know nothing of summer and winter, shut consciousness of pain in his short illness—when I saw him turnup here.himself in his bed and try to open it.’The Lord has been pleased to put me beyond all that.’ With ‘Was your father, then, not wandering in his mind when heher cold grey eyes and her cold grey hair, and her immovable tried to open it?’face, as stiff as the folds of her stony head-dress,—her being ‘No. He was quite sensible at that time.’beyond the reach of the seasons seemed but a fit sequence to Mrs Clennam shook her head; whether in dismissal of theher being beyond the reach of all changing emotions. deceased or opposing herself to her son’s opinion, was notOn her little table lay two or three books, her handkerchief, clearly expressed.a pair of steel spectacles newly taken off, and an old-fashionedgold watch in a heavy double case. Upon this last object might be, for anything I knew, some memorandum there. How-‘After my father’s death I opened it myself, thinking thereher son’s eyes and her own now rested together.ever, as I need not tell you, mother, there was nothing but the‘I see that you received the packet I sent you on my father’s old silk watch-paper worked in beads, which you found (nodeath, safely, mother.’doubt) in its place between the cases, where I found and left‘You see.’it.’‘I never knew my father to show so much anxiety on any Mrs Clennam signified assent; then added, ‘No more of businesson this day,’ and then added, ‘Affery, it is nine subject, as that his watch should be sent straight to you.’o’clock.’39

Charles DickensUpon this, the old woman cleared the little table, went out of enemies (she made them by her tone and manner expresslythe room, and quickly returned with a tray on which was a hers) might be put to the edge of the sword, consumed by fire,dish of little rusks and a small precise pat of butter, cool, symmetrical,white, and plump. The old man who had been stand-to dust, and that they might be utterly exterminated. As shesmitten by plagues and leprosy, that their bones might be grounding by the door in one attitude during the whole interview, lookingat the mother up-stairs as he had looked at the son down-imaginings of a dream, and all the old dark horrors of his usualread on, years seemed to fall away from her son like thestairs, went out at the same time, and, after a longer absence, preparation for the sleep of an innocent child to overshadowreturned with another tray on which was the greater part of a him.bottle of port wine (which, to judge by his panting, he had She shut the book and remained for a little time with her facebrought from the cellar), a lemon, a sugar-basin, and a spice shaded by her hand. So did the old man, otherwise still unchangedbox. With these materials and the aid of the kettle, he filled atumbler with a hot and odorous mixture, measured out and in attitude; so, probably, did the old woman in her dimmercompounded with as much nicety as a physician’s prescription.Into this mixture Mrs Clennam dipped certain of the rusks, ‘Good night, Arthur. Affery will see to your accommoda-part of the room. Then the sick woman was ready for bed.and ate them; while the old woman buttered certain other of tion. Only touch me, for my hand is tender.’ He touched thethe rusks, which were to be eaten alone. When the invalid had worsted muffling of her hand—that was nothing; if his mothereaten all the rusks and drunk all the mixture, the two trays had been sheathed in brass there would have been no newwere removed; and the books and the candle, watch, handkerchief,and spectacles were replaced upon the table. She down-stairs.barrier between them—and followed the old man and womanthen put on the spectacles and read certain passages aloud The latter asked him, when they were alone together among thefrom a book—sternly, fiercely, wrathfully—praying that her heavy shadows of the dining-room, would he have some supper?40

Little Dorrit – Book One‘No, Affery, no supper.’give it her. My husband, Jeremiah Flintwinch, can conquer‘You shall if you like,’ said Affery. ‘There’s her tomorrow’s even your mother. What can he be but a clever one to dopartridge in the larder—her first this year; say the word and that!’I’ll cook it.’His shuffling footstep coming towards them caused her toNo, he had not long dined, and could eat nothing. retreat to the other end of the room. Though a tall, hardfavoured,sinewy old woman, who in her youth might have‘Have something to drink, then,’ said Affery; ‘you shall havesome of her bottle of port, if you like. I’ll tell Jeremiah that you enlisted in the Foot Guards without much fear of discovery,ordered me to bring it you.’she collapsed before the little keen-eyed crab-like old man.No; nor would he have that, either.‘Now, Affery,’ said he, ‘now, woman, what are you doing?‘It’s no reason, Arthur,’ said the old woman, bending over Can’t you find Master Arthur something or another to pick at?’him to whisper, ‘that because I am afeared of my life of ‘em, Master Arthur repeated his recent refusal to pick at anything.you should be. You’ve got half the property, haven’t you?’‘Yes, yes.’‘Very well, then,’ said the old man; ‘make his bed. Stir yourself.’His neck was so twisted that the knotted ends of his‘Well then, don’t you be cowed. You’re clever, Arthur, an’tyou? ‘ He nodded, as she seemed to expect an answer in the white cravat usually dangled under one ear; his natural acerbityand energy, always contending with a second nature ofaffirmative. ‘Then stand up against them! She’s awful clever,and none but a clever one durst say a word to her. HE’S a habitual repression, gave his features a swollen and suffusedclever one—oh, he’s a clever one!—and he gives it her when look; and altogether, he had a weird appearance of havinghe has a mind to’t, he does!’hanged himself at one time or other, and of having gone about‘Your husband does?’ever since, halter and all, exactly as some timely hand had cut‘Does? It makes me shake from head to foot, to hear him him down.41

Charles Dickens‘You’ll have bitter words together to-morrow, Arthur; you They mounted up and up, through the musty smell of an oldand your mother,’ said Jeremiah. ‘Your having given up the close house, little used, to a large garret bed-room. Meagrebusiness on your father’s death—which she suspects, though and spare, like all the other rooms, it was even uglier and grimmerthan the rest, by being the place of banishment for thewe have left it to you to tell her—won’t go off smoothly.’‘I have given up everything in life for the business, and the worn-out furniture. Its movables were ugly old chairs withtime came for me to give up that.’worn-out seats, and ugly old chairs without any seats; a threadbarepatternless carpet, a maimed table, a crippled wardrobe,‘Good!’ cried Jeremiah, evidently meaning Bad. ‘Very good!only don’t expect me to stand between your mother and you, a lean set of fire-irons like the skeleton of a set deceased, aArthur. I stood between your mother and your father, fending washing-stand that looked as if it had stood for ages in a hailoff this, and fending off that, and getting crushed and pounded of dirty soapsuds, and a bedstead with four bare atomies ofbetwixt em; and I’ve done with such work.’posts, each terminating in a spike, as if for the dismal accommodationof lodgers who might prefer to impale themselves.‘You will never be asked to begin it again for me, Jeremiah.’‘ Good. I’m glad to hear it; because I should have had to Arthur opened the long low window, and looked out upon thedecline it, if I had been. That’s enough—as your mother says— old blasted and blackened forest of chimneys, and the old redand more than enough of such matters on a Sabbath night. glare in the sky, which had seemed to him once upon a timeAffery, woman, have you found what you want yet?’ but a nightly reflection of the fiery environment that was presentedto his childish fancy in all directions, let it look where itShe had been collecting sheets and blankets from a press,and hastened to gather them up, and to reply, ‘Yes, Jeremiah.’ would.Arthur Clennam helped her by carrying the load himself, wished He drew in his head again, sat down at the bedside, andthe old man good night, and went up-stairs with her to the top looked on at Affery Flintwinch making the bed.of the house.‘Affery, you were not married when I went away.’42

Little Dorrit – Book OneShe screwed her mouth into the form of saying ‘No,’ shook go about, and she could go about then.’ ‘Well?’her head, and proceeded to get a pillow into its case.‘Well?’ echoed Mrs Flintwinch. ‘That’s what I said myself. Well!‘How did it happen?’What’s the use of considering? If them two clever ones have made‘Why, Jeremiah, o’ course,’ said Affery, with an end of the up their minds to it, what’s left for me to do? Nothing.’pillow-case between her teeth.‘Was it my mother’s project, then?’‘Of course he proposed it, but how did it all come about? I ‘The Lord bless you, Arthur, and forgive me the wish!’ criedshould have thought that neither of you would have married; Affery, speaking always in a low tone. ‘If they hadn’t beenleast of all should I have thought of your marrying each other.’ both of a mind in it, how could it ever have been? Jeremiah‘No more should I,’ said Mrs Flintwinch, tying the pillow never courted me; t’ant likely that he would, after living in thetightly in its case.house with me and ordering me about for as many years as‘That’s what I mean. When did you begin to think otherwise?’“now I am going to tell you something. What do you think ofhe’d done. He said to me one day, he said, “Affery,” he said,‘Never begun to think otherwise at all,’ said Mrs Flintwinch. the name of Flintwinch?” “What do I think of it?” I says. “Yes,”Seeing, as she patted the pillow into its place on the bolster, he said, “because you’re going to take it,” he said. “Take it?”that he was still looking at her as if waiting for the rest of her I says. “Jere-MI-ah?” Oh! he’s a clever one!’reply, she gave it a great poke in the middle, and asked, ‘How Mrs Flintwinch went on to spread the upper sheet over thecould I help myself?’bed, and the blanket over that, and the counterpane over that,‘How could you help yourself from being married!’ as if she had quite concluded her story. ‘Well?’ said Arthur‘O’ course,’ said Mrs Flintwinch. ‘It was no doing o’ mine. again.I’d never thought of it. I’d got something to do, without thinking,indeed! She kept me to it (as well as he) when she could myself? He said to me, “Affery, you and me must be‘Well?’ echoed Mrs Flintwinch again. ‘How could I helpmarried,43

Charles Dickensand I’ll tell you why. She’s failing in health, and she’ll want pains for this form of expression, ‘I couldn’t have said a wordpretty constant attendance up in her room, and we shall have upon it, against them two clever ones.’to be much with her, and there’ll be nobody about now but ‘In good faith, I believe so.’ ‘And so you may, Arthur.’ourselves when we’re away from her, and altogether it will be ‘Affery, what girl was that in my mother’s room just now?’more convenient. She’s of my opinion,” he said, “so if you’ll ‘Girl?’ said Mrs Flintwinch in a rather sharp key.put your bonnet on next Monday morning at eight, we’ll get it ‘It was a girl, surely, whom I saw near you—almost hiddenover.”’ Mrs Flintwinch tucked up the bed.in the dark corner?’‘Well?’‘Oh! She? Little Dorrit? She’s nothing; she’s a whim of—‘Well?’ repeated Mrs Flintwinch, ‘I think so! I sits me down hers.’ It was a peculiarity of Affery Flintwinch that she neverand says it. Well!—Jeremiah then says to me, “As to banns, spoke of Mrs Clennam by name. ‘But there’s another sort ofnext Sunday being the third time of asking (for I’ve put ‘em up girls than that about. Have you forgot your old sweetheart?a fortnight), is my reason for naming Monday. She’ll speak to Long and long ago, I’ll be bound.’you about it herself, and now she’ll find you prepared, Affery.” ‘I suffered enough from my mother’s separating us, to rememberher.That same day she spoke to me, and she said, “So, Affery, Iunderstand that you and Jeremiah are going to be married. I I recollect her very well.’am glad of it, and so are you, with reason. It is a very good ‘Have you got another?’thing for you, and very welcome under the circumstances to ‘No.’me. He is a sensible man, and a trustworthy man, and a perseveringman, and a pious man.” What could I say when it had widow. And if you like to have her, why you can.’‘Here’s news for you, then. She’s well to do now, and acome to that? Why, if it had been—a smothering instead of a ‘And how do you know that, Affery?’wedding,’ Mrs Flintwinch cast about in her mind with great ‘Them two clever ones have been speaking about it.—44

There’s Jeremiah on the stairs!’ She was gone in a moment.Mrs Flintwinch had introduced into the web that his mindwas busily weaving, in that old workshop where the loom ofhis youth had stood, the last thread wanting to the pattern. Theairy folly of a boy’s love had found its way even into that house,and he had been as wretched under its hopelessness as if thehouse had been a castle of romance. Little more than a weekago at Marseilles, the face of the pretty girl from whom he hadparted with regret, had had an unusual interest for him, and atender hold upon him, because of some resemblance, real orimagined, to this first face that had soared out of his gloomylife into the bright glories of fancy. He leaned upon the sill ofthe long low window, and looking out upon the blackenedforest of chimneys again, began to dream; for it had been theuniform tendency of this man’s life—so much was wanting in itto think about, so much that might have been better directedand happier to speculate upon—to make him a dreamer, afterall.Little Dorrit – Book OneCHAPTER 4 Mrs Flintwinch has a DreamWHEN MRS FLINTWINCH dreamed, she usually dreamed, unlikethe son of her old mistress, with her eyes shut. She had acuriously vivid dream that night, and before she had left theson of her old mistress many hours. In fact it was not at all likea dream; it was so very real in every respect. It happened inthis wise.The bed-chamber occupied by Mr and Mrs Flintwinch waswithin a few paces of that to which Mrs Clennam had been solong confined. It was not on the same floor, for it was a roomat the side of the house, which was approached by a steepdescent of a few odd steps, diverging from the main staircasenearly opposite to Mrs Clennam’s door. It could scarcely besaid to be within call, the walls, doors, and panelling of the oldplace were so cumbrous; but it was within easy reach, in anyundress, at any hour of the night, in any temperature. At thehead of the bed and within a foot of Mrs Flintwinch’s ear, wasa bell, the line of which hung ready to Mrs Clennam’s hand.Whenever this bell rang, up started Affery, and was in the sickroom before she was awake.45

Charles DickensHaving got her mistress into bed, lighted her lamp, and given Mrs Flintwinch crossed the hall, feeling its pavement cold toher good night, Mrs Flintwinch went to roost as usual, saving her stockingless feet, and peeped in between the rusty hingesthat her lord had not yet appeared. It was her lord himself who on the door, which stood a little open. She expected to seebecame—unlike the last theme in the mind, according to the Jeremiah fast asleep or in a fit, but he was calmly seated in aobservation of most philosophers—the subject of Mrs chair, awake, and in his usual health. But what—hey?—LordFlintwinch’s dream. It seemed to her that she awoke after sleepingsome hours, and found Jeremiah not yet abed. That she effect, and turned giddy.forgive us!—Mrs Flintwinch muttered some ejaculation to thislooked at the candle she had left burning, and, measuring the For, Mr Flintwinch awake, was watching Mr Flintwinchtime like King Alfred the Great, was confirmed by its wasted asleep. He sat on one side of the small table, looking keenly atstate in her belief that she had been asleep for some considerableperiod. That she arose thereupon, muffled herself up in a ing. The waking Flintwinch had his full front face presented tohimself on the other side with his chin sunk on his breast, snor-wrapper, put on her shoes, and went out on the staircase, his wife; the sleeping Flintwinch was in profile. The wakingmuch surprised, to look for Jeremiah.Flintwinch was the old original; the sleeping Flintwinch wasThe staircase was as wooden and solid as need be, and the double. just as she might have distinguished between aAffery went straight down it without any of those deviations tangible object and its reflection in a glass, Affery made outpeculiar to dreams. She did not skim over it, but walked down this difference with her head going round and round.it, and guided herself by the banisters on account of her candle If she had had any doubt which was her own Jeremiah, ithaving died out. In one corner of the hall, behind the housedoor,there was a little waiting-room, like a well-shaft, with a him for an offensive weapon, caught up the snuffers, and, be-would have been resolved by his impatience. He looked aboutlong narrow window in it as if it had been ripped up. In this fore applying them to the cabbage-headed candle, lunged atroom, which was never used, a light was burning.the sleeper as though he would have run him through the body.46

Little Dorrit – Book One‘Who’s that? What’s the matter?’ cried the sleeper, starting. He took a sip.Mr Flintwinch made a movement with the snuffers, as if he ‘Your health!’would have enforced silence on his companion by putting them He took another sip.down his throat; the companion, coming to himself, said, rubbinghis eyes, ‘I forgot where I was.’He took another sip.‘His health!’‘You have been asleep,’ snarled Jeremiah, referring to his ‘And all friends round St Paul’s.’ He emptied and put downwatch, ‘two hours. You said you would be rested enough if the wine-glass half-way through this ancient civic toast, andyou had a short nap.’took up the box. It was an iron box some two feet square,‘I have had a short nap,’ said Double.which he carried under his arms pretty easily. Jeremiah watched‘Half-past two o’clock in the morning,’ muttered Jeremiah. his manner of adjusting it, with jealous eyes; tried it with his‘Where’s your hat? Where’s your coat? Where’s the box?’ hands, to be sure that he had a firm hold of it; bade him for his‘All here,’ said Double, tying up his throat with sleepy carefulnessin a shawl. ‘Stop a minute. Now give me the sleeve— to open the door for him. Affery, anticipating the last move-life be careful what he was about; and then stole out on tiptoenot that sleeve, the other one. Ha! I’m not as young as I was.’ ment, was on the staircase. The sequence of things was soMr Flintwinch had pulled him into his coat with vehement energy.‘You promised me a second glass after I was rested.’ door open, feel the night air, and see the stars outside.ordinary and natural, that, standing there, she could hear the‘Drink it!’ returned Jeremiah, ‘and—choke yourself, I was But now came the most remarkable part of the dream. Shegoing to say—but go, I mean.’At the same time he produced felt so afraid of her husband, that being on the staircase, shethe identical port-wine bottle, and filled a wine-glass. had not the power to retreat to her room (which she might‘Her port-wine, I believe?’ said Double, tasting it as if he easily have done before he had fastened the door), but stoodwere in the Docks, with hours to spare. ‘Her health.’ there staring. Consequently when he came up the staircase to47

Charles Dickensbed, candle in hand, he came full upon her. He looked astonished,but said not a word. He kept his eyes upon her,CHAPTER 5 Family Affairsandkept advancing; and she, completely under his influence, keptretiring before him. Thus, she walking backward and he walkingforward, they came into their own room. They were nosooner shut in there, than Mr Flintwinch took her by the throat,and shook her until she was black in the face.‘Why, Affery, woman—Affery!’ said Mr Flintwinch. ‘Whathave you been dreaming of? Wake up, wake up! What’s thematter?’‘The—the matter, Jeremiah?’ gasped Mrs Flintwinch, rollingher eyes.‘Why, Affery, woman—Affery! You have been getting outof bed in your sleep, my dear! I come up, after having fallenasleep myself, below, and find you in your wrapper here, withthe nightmare. Affery, woman,’ said Mr Flintwinch, with afriendly grin on his expressive countenance, ‘if you ever have adream of this sort again, it’ll be a sign of your being in want ofphysic. And I’ll give you such a dose, old woman—such adose!’Mrs Flintwinch thanked him and crept into bed.AS THE CITY CLOCKS struck nine on Monday morning, MrsClennam was wheeled by Jeremiah Flintwinch of the cut-downaspect to her tall cabinet. When she had unlocked and openedit, and had settled herself at its desk, Jeremiah withdrew—asit might be, to hang himself more effectually—and her son appeared.‘Are you any better this morning, mother?’She shook her head, with the same austere air of luxuriousnessthat she had shown over-night when speaking of theweather.‘I shall never be better any more. It is well for me, Arthur,that I know it and can bear it.’Sitting with her hands laid separately upon the desk, and thetall cabinet towering before her, she looked as if she wereperforming on a dumb church organ. Her son thought so (itwas an old thought with him), while he took his seat beside it.She opened a drawer or two, looked over some businesspapers, and put them back again. Her severe face had nothread of relaxation in it, by which any explorer could have48

Little Dorrit – Book Onebeen guided to the gloomy labyrinth of her thoughts. pleted. Shall I proceed then?’‘Shall I speak of our affairs, mother? Are you inclined to ‘Why not?’ she said, in her frozen way.enter upon business?’‘Mother, our House has done less and less for some years‘Am I inclined, Arthur? Rather, are you? Your father has past, and our dealings have been progressively on the decline.been dead a year and more. I have been at your disposal, and We have never shown much confidence, or invited much; wewaiting your pleasure, ever since.’have attached no people to us; the track we have kept is not‘There was much to arrange before I could leave; and when the track of the time; and we have been left far behind. I needI did leave, I travelled a little for rest and relief.’not dwell on this to you, mother. You know it necessarily.’She turned her face towards him, as not having heard or ‘I know what you mean,’ she answered, in a qualified tone.understood his last words. ‘For rest and relief.’‘Even this old house in which we speak,’ pursued her son, ‘isShe glanced round the sombre room, and appeared from an instance of what I say. In my father’s earlier time, and in histhe motion of her lips to repeat the words to herself, as calling uncle’s time before him, it was a place of business—really ait to witness how little of either it afforded her.place of business, and business resort. Now, it is a mere‘Besides, mother, you being sole executrix, and having the anomaly and incongruity here, out of date and out of purpose.direction and management of the estate, there remained little All our consignments have long been made to Rovinghams’business, or I might say none, that I could transact, until you the commission-merchants; and although, as a check uponhad had time to arrange matters to your satisfaction.’ them, and in the stewardship of my father’s resources, your‘The accounts are made out,’ she returned. ‘I have them judgment and watchfulness have been actively exerted, stillhere. The vouchers have all been examined and passed. You those qualities would have influenced my father’s fortunescan inspect them when you like, Arthur; now, if you please.’ equally, if you had lived in any private dwelling: would they‘It is quite enough, mother, to know that the business is com-not?’49

Charles Dickens‘Do you consider,’ she returned, without answering his question,‘that a house serves no purpose, Arthur, in sheltering your never before set my own will against yours. I cannot say that Iyou that I have lived the half of a long term of life, and haveinfirm and afflicted—justly infirm and righteously afflicted— have been able to conform myself, in heart and spirit, to yourmother?’rules; I cannot say that I believe my forty years have been‘I was speaking only of business purposes.’profitable or pleasant to myself, or any one; but I have habituallysubmitted, and I only ask you to remember it.’‘With what object?’‘I am coming to it.’Woe to the suppliant, if such a one there were or ever had‘I foresee,’ she returned, fixing her eyes upon him, ‘what it is. been, who had any concession to look for in the inexorableBut the Lord forbid that I should repine under any visitation. In face at the cabinet. Woe to the defaulter whose appeal lay tomy sinfulness I merit bitter disappointment, and I accept it.’ the tribunal where those severe eyes presided. Great need‘Mother, I grieve to hear you speak like this, though I have had the rigid woman of her mystical religion, veiled in gloomhad my apprehensions that you would—’and darkness, with lightnings of cursing, vengeance, and destruction,flashing through the sable clouds. Forgive us our debts‘You knew I would. You knew ME,’ she interrupted.Her son paused for a moment. He had struck fire out of her, as we forgive our debtors, was a prayer too poor in spirit forand was surprised.her. Smite Thou my debtors, Lord, wither them, crush them;‘Well!’ she said, relapsing into stone. ‘Go on. Let me hear.’ do Thou as I would do, and Thou shalt have my worship: this‘You have anticipated, mother, that I decide for my part, to was the impious tower of stone she built up to scale Heaven.abandon the business. I have done with it. I will not take upon ‘Have you finished, Arthur, or have you anything more tomyself to advise you; you will continue it, I see. If I had any say to me?influence with you, I would simply use it to soften your judgmentof me in causing you this disappointment: to represent to full ofI think there can be nothing else. You have been short, butmatter!’50

Little Dorrit – Book One‘Mother, I have yet something more to say. It has been upon He lowered his voice, and said, with manifest reluctance,my mind, night and day, this long time. It is far more difficult to and against his will:say than what I have said. That concerned myself; this concernsus all.’to suspect—’‘I want to ask you, mother, whether it ever occurred to you‘Us all! Who are us all?’At the word Suspect, she turned her eyes momentarily upon‘Yourself, myself, my dead father.’her son, with a dark frown. She then suffered them to seek theShe took her hands from the desk; folded them in her lap; fire, as before; but with the frown fixed above them, as if theand sat looking towards the fire, with the impenetrability of an sculptor of old Egypt had indented it in the hard granite face,old Egyptian sculpture.to frown for ages.‘You knew my father infinitely better than I ever knew him; ‘—that he had any secret remembrance which caused himand his reserve with me yielded to you. You were much the trouble of mind—remorse? Whether you ever observed anythingin his conduct suggesting that; or ever spoke to him uponstronger, mother, and directed him. As a child, I knew it aswell as I know it now. I knew that your ascendancy over him it, or ever heard him hint at such a thing?’was the cause of his going to China to take care of the businessthere, while you took care of it here (though I do not even mean to infer that your father was a prey to,’ she returned,‘I do not understand what kind of secret remembrance younow know whether these were really terms of separation that after a silence. ‘You speak so mysteriously.’you agreed upon); and that it was your will that I should remainwith you until I was twenty, and then go to him as I did. nearer to her while he whispered it, and laid his hand ner-‘Is it possible, mother,’ her son leaned forward to be theYou will not be offended by my recalling this, after twenty vously upon her desk, ‘is it possible, mother, that he had unhappilywronged any one, and made no reparation?’years?’‘I am waiting to hear why you recall it.’Looking at him wrathfully, she bent herself back in her chair51

Charles Dickensto keep him further off, but gave him no reply.back of her hand towards her face, between herself and him,‘I am deeply sensible, mother, that if this thought has never and looked at him in a fixed silence.at any time flashed upon you, it must seem cruel and unnatural ‘In grasping at money and in driving hard bargains—I havein me, even in this confidence, to breathe it. But I cannot shake begun, and I must speak of such things now, mother—someit off.one may have been grievously deceived, injured, ruined. YouTime and change (I have tried both before breaking silence) were the moving power of all this machinery before my birth;do nothing to wear it out. Remember, I was with my father. your stronger spirit has been infused into all my father’s dealingsfor more than two score years. You can set these doubtsRemember, I saw his face when he gave the watch into mykeeping, and struggled to express that he sent it as a token you at rest, I think, if you will really help me to discover the truth.would understand, to you. Remember, I saw him at the last Will you, mother?’with the pencil in his failing hand, trying to write some word for He stopped in the hope that she would speak. But her greyyou to read, but to which he could give no shape. The more hair was not more immovable in its two folds, than were herremote and cruel this vague suspicion that I have, the stronger firm lips.the circumstances that could give it any semblance of probabilityto me. For Heaven’s sake, let us examine sacredly made to any one, let us know it and make it. Nay, mother, if‘If reparation can be made to any one, if restitution can bewhether there is any wrong entrusted to us to set right. No one within my means, let ME make it. I have seen so little happinesscome of money; it has brought within my knowledge socan help towards it, mother, but you. ‘Still so recoiling in her chair that her overpoised weight moved little peace to this house, or to any one belonging to it, that it isit, from time to time, a little on its wheels, and gave her the worth less to me than to another. It can buy me nothing thatappearance of a phantom of fierce aspect gliding away from will not be a reproach and misery to me, if I am haunted by ahim, she interposed her left arm, bent at the elbow with the suspicion that it darkened my father’s last hours with remorse,52

Little Dorrit – Book Oneand that it is not honestly and justly mine.’ There was a bellropehanging on the panelled wall, some two or three yards plunder; and asks to whom they shall be given up, as repara-late, with wear and tear and toil and self-denial, are so muchfrom the cabinet. By a swift and sudden action of her foot, she tion and restitution!’drove her wheeled chair rapidly back to it and pulled it violently—stillholding her arm up in its shield-like posture, as if from being beyond her control that it was even lower than herAlthough she said this raging, she said it in a voice so farhe were striking at her, and she warding off the blow. usual tone. She also spoke with great distinctness.A girl came hurrying in, frightened.‘Reparation!’ said she. ‘Yes, truly! It is easy for him to talk‘Send Flintwinch here!’of reparation, fresh from journeying and junketing in foreignIn a moment the girl had withdrawn, and the old man stood lands, and living a life of vanity and pleasure. But let him lookwithin the door. ‘What! You’re hammer and tongs, already, at me, in prison, and in bonds here. I endure without murmuring,because it is appointed that I shall so make reparation foryou two?’ he said, coolly stroking his face. ‘I thought youwould be. I was pretty sure of it.’my sins. Reparation! Is there none in this room? Has there‘Flintwinch!’ said the mother, ‘look at my son. Look at him!’ been none here this fifteen years?’‘Well, I am looking at him,’ said Flintwinch.Thus was she always balancing her bargains with the Majestyof heaven, posting up the entries to her credit, strictlyShe stretched out the arm with which she had shielded herself,and as she went on, pointed at the object of her anger. keeping her set-off, and claiming her due. She was only remarkablein this, for the force and emphasis with which she‘In the very hour of his return almost—before the shoe uponhis foot is dry—he asperses his father’s memory to his mother! did it. Thousands upon thousands do it, according to their varyingmanner, every day.Asks his mother to become, with him, a spy upon his father’stransactions through a lifetime! Has misgivings that the goods ‘Flintwinch, give me that book!’of this world which we have painfully got together early and The old man handed it to her from the table. She put two53

Charles Dickensfingers between the leaves, closed the book upon them, and ‘Take your version of it,’ returned Arthur, finding it left toheld it up to her son in a threatening way. ‘ In the days of old, him to speak, ‘from my mother. Let it rest there. What I haveArthur, treated of in this commentary, there were pious men, said, was said to my mother only.’ ‘Oh!’ returned the old man.beloved of the Lord, who would have cursed their sons for ‘From your mother? Take it from your mother? Well! But yourless than this: who would have sent them forth, and sent whole mother mentioned that you had been suspecting your father.nations forth, if such had supported them, to be avoided of That’s not dutiful, Mr Arthur. Who will you be suspecting next?’God and man, and perish, down to the baby at the breast. But ‘Enough,’ said Mrs Clennam, turning her face so that it wasI only tell you that if you ever renew that theme with me, I will addressed for the moment to the old man only. ‘Let no morerenounce you; I will so dismiss you through that doorway, that be said about this.’you had better have been motherless from your cradle. I will ‘Yes, but stop a bit, stop a bit,’ the old man persisted. ‘Letnever see or know you more. And if, after all, you were to us see how we stand. Have you told Mr Arthur that he mustn’tcome into this darkened room to look upon me lying dead, my lay offences at his father’s door? That he has no right to do it?body should bleed, if I could make it, when you came near That he has no ground to go upon?’me.’‘I tell him so now.’In part relieved by the intensity of this threat, and in part ‘Ah! Exactly,’ said the old man. ‘You tell him so now. You(monstrous as the fact is) by a general impression that it was in hadn’t told him so before, and you tell him so now. Ay, ay!some sort a religious proceeding, she handed back the book That’s right! You know I stood between you and his father soto the old man, and was silent.long, that it seems as if death had made no difference, and I‘Now,’ said Jeremiah; ‘premising that I’m not going to stand was still standing between you. So I will, and so in fairness Ibetween you two, will you let me ask (as I have been called in, require to have that plainly put forward. Arthur, you please toand made a third) what is all this about?’hear that you have no right to mistrust your father, and have no54

Little Dorrit – Book Oneground to go upon.’a sudden look at the son, which seemed to say, ‘I owe you noHe put his hands to the back of the wheeled chair, and mutteringto himself, slowly wheeled his mistress back to her cabi-told the mother that he thanked her, and that Affery thankedthanks for this; you have done nothing towards it!’ and thennet. ‘Now,’ he resumed, standing behind her: ‘in case I should her, and that he would never desert her, and that Affery wouldgo away leaving things half done, and so should be wanted never desert her. Finally, he hauled up his watch from its depths,again when you come to the other half and get into one of your and said, ‘Eleven. Time for your oysters!’ and with that changeflights, has Arthur told you what he means to do about the of subject, which involved no change of expression or manner,rang the bell.business?’‘He has relinquished it.’But Mrs Clennam, resolved to treat herself with the greater‘In favour of nobody, I suppose?’rigour for having been supposed to be unacquainted with reparation,refused to eat her oysters when they were brought.Mrs Clennam glanced at her son, leaning against one of thewindows.They looked tempting; eight in number, circularly set out on aHe observed the look and said, ‘To my mother, of course. white plate on a tray covered with a white napkin, flanked byShe does what she pleases.’a slice of buttered French roll, and a little compact glass of‘And if any pleasure,’ she said after a short pause, ‘could cool wine and water; but she resisted all persuasions, and sentarise for me out of the disappointment of my expectations that them down again—placing the act to her credit, no doubt, inmy son, in the prime of his life, would infuse new youth and her Eternal Day-Book.strength into it, and make it of great profit and power, it would This refection of oysters was not presided over by Affery,be in advancing an old and faithful servant. Jeremiah, the captaindeserts the ship, but you and I will sink or float with it.’ same who had been in the dimly-lighted room last night. Nowbut by the girl who had appeared when the bell was rung; theJeremiah, whose eyes glistened as if they saw money, darted that he had an opportunity of observing her, Arthur found that55

Charles Dickensher diminutive figure, small features, and slight spare dress, Little Dorrit let herself out to do needlework. At so much agave her the appearance of being much younger than she was. day—or at so little—from eight to eight, Little Dorrit was toA woman, probably of not less than two-and-twenty, she might be hired. Punctual to the moment, Little Dorrit appeared; punctualto the moment, Little Dorrit vanished. What became ofhave been passed in the street for little more than half that age.Not that her face was very youthful, for in truth there was Little Dorrit between the two eights was a mystery.more consideration and care in it than naturally belonged to Another of the moral phenomena of Little Dorrit. Besidesher utmost years; but she was so little and light, so noiseless her consideration money, her daily contract included meals.and shy, and appeared so conscious of being out of place She had an extraordinary repugnance to dining in company;among the three hard elders, that she had all the manner and would never do so, if it were possible to escape. Would alwaysplead that she had this bit of work to begin first, or thatmuch of the appearance of a subdued child.In a hard way, and in an uncertain way that fluctuated betweenpatronage and putting down, the sprinkling from a wa-and plan—not very cunningly, it would seem, for she deceivedbit of work to finish first; and would, of a certainty, schemetering-pot and hydraulic pressure, Mrs Clennam showed an no one—to dine alone. Successful in this, happy in carrying offinterest in this dependent. Even in the moment of her entrance, her plate anywhere, to make a table of her lap, or a box, or theupon the violent ringing of the bell, when the mother shielded ground, or even as was supposed, to stand on tip-toe, diningherself with that singular action from the son, Mrs Clennam’s moderately at a mantel-shelf; the great anxiety of Little Dorrit’seyes had had some individual recognition in them, which seemed day was set at rest.reserved for her. As there are degrees of hardness in the hardestmetal, and shades of colour in black itself, so, even in the retiring, plied her needle in such removed corners, and startedIt was not easy to make out Little Dorrit’s face; she was soasperity of Mrs Clennam’s demeanour towards all the rest of away so scared if encountered on the stairs. But it seemed tohumanity and towards Little Dorrit, there was a fine gradation. be a pale transparent face, quick in expression, though not56

Little Dorrit – Book Onebeautiful in feature, its soft hazel eyes excepted. A delicately Flintwinch, that the only son should be pitted against them.bent head, a tiny form, a quick little pair of busy hands, and a In the course of the day, too, Arthur looked through theshabby dress—it must needs have been very shabby to look whole house. Dull and dark he found it. The gaunt rooms,at all so, being so neat—were Little Dorrit as she sat at work. deserted for years upon years, seemed to have settled downFor these particulars or generalities concerning Little Dorrit, into a gloomy lethargy from which nothing could rouse themMr Arthur was indebted in the course of the day to his own again. The furniture, at once spare and lumbering, hid in theeyes and to Mrs Affery’s tongue. If Mrs Affery had had any rooms rather than furnished them, and there was no colour inwill or way of her own, it would probably have been all the house; such colour as had ever been there, had long agounfavourable to Little Dorrit. But as ‘them two clever ones’— started away on lost sunbeams—got itself absorbed, perhaps,Mrs Affery’s perpetual reference, in whom her personality was into flowers, butterflies, plumage of birds, precious stones, whatswallowed up—were agreed to accept Little Dorrit as a matterof course, she had nothing for it but to follow suit. Similarly, the roof; the ceilings were so fantastically clouded by smokenot. There was not one straight floor from the foundation toif the two clever ones had agreed to murder Little Dorrit by and dust, that old women might have told fortunes in themcandlelight, Mrs Affery, being required to hold the candle, better than in grouts of tea; the dead-cold hearths showed nowould no doubt have done it.traces of having ever been warmed but in heaps of soot thatIn the intervals of roasting the partridge for the invalid chamber,and preparing a baking-dish of beef and pudding for the dusky whirlwinds when the doors were opened. In what hadhad tumbled down the chimneys, and eddied about in littledining-room, Mrs Affery made the communications above set once been a drawing-room, there were a pair of meagre mirrors,with dismal processions of black figures carrying blackforth; invariably putting her head in at the door again after shehad taken it out, to enforce resistance to the two clever ones. garlands, walking round the frames; but even these were shortIt appeared to have become a perfect passion with Mrs of heads and legs, and one undertaker-like Cupid had swung57

Charles Dickensround on its own axis and got upside down, and another had small hours, by a nightly resurrection of old book-keepers.fallen off altogether. The room Arthur Clennam’s deceased The baking-dish was served up in a penitential manner on afather had occupied for business purposes, when he first rememberedhim, was so unaltered that he might have been imag-when he dined with Mr Flintwinch, the new partner. Mrshrunken cloth at an end of the dining-table, at two o’clock,ined still to keep it invisibly, as his visible relict kept her room Flintwinch informed him that his mother had recovered herup-stairs; Jeremiah Flintwinch still going between them negotiating.His picture, dark and gloomy, earnestly speechless on what had passed in the morning. ‘And don’t you lay offencesequanimity now, and that he need not fear her again alluding tothe wall, with the eyes intently looking at his son as they had at your father’s door, Mr Arthur,’ added Jeremiah, ‘once forlooked when life departed from them, seemed to urge him all, don’t do it! Now, we have done with the subject.’awfully to the task he had attempted; but as to any yielding on Mr Flintwinch had been already rearranging and dusting histhe part of his mother, he had now no hope, and as to any own particular little office, as if to do honour to his accessionother means of setting his distrust at rest, he had abandoned to new dignity. He resumed this occupation when he was repletewith beef, had sucked up all the gravy in the baking-dishhope a long time.Down in the cellars, as up in the bed-chambers, old objects with the flat of his knife, and had drawn liberally on a barrel ofthat he well remembered were changed by age and decay, but small beer in the scullery. Thus refreshed, he tucked up hiswere still in their old places; even to empty beer-casks hoary shirt-sleeves and went to work again; and Mr Arthur, watchinghim as he set about it, plainly saw that his father’s picture,with cobwebs, and empty wine-bottles with fur and funguschoking up their throats. There, too, among unusual bottleracksand pale slants of light from the yard above, was the this old man.or his father’s grave, would be as communicative with him asstrong room stored with old ledgers, which had as musty and ‘Now, Affery, woman,’ said Mr Flintwinch, as she crossedcorrupt a smell as if they were regularly balanced, in the dead the hall. ‘You hadn’t made Mr Arthur’s bed when I was up58

Little Dorrit – Book Onethere last. Stir yourself. Bustle.’have been her character on the occasion of his arrival. HisBut Mr Arthur found the house so blank and dreary, and original curiosity augmented every day, as he watched for her,was so unwilling to assist at another implacable consignment saw or did not see her, and speculated about her. Influencedof his mother’s enemies (perhaps himself among them) to mortal by his predominant idea, he even fell into a habit of discussingdisfigurement and immortal ruin, that he announced his intentionof lodging at the coffee-house where he had left his lugatedwith it. At last he resolved to watch Little Dorrit andwith himself the possibility of her being in some way associgage.Mr Flintwinch taking kindly to the idea of getting rid of know more of her story.him, and his mother being indifferent, beyond considerationsof saving, to most domestic arrangements that were notCHAPTER 6 The Father of the Marshalseabounded by the walls of her own chamber, he easily carriedthis point without new offence. Daily business hours wereTHIRTY YEARS AGO there stood, a few doors short of the churchagreed upon, which his mother, Mr Flintwinch, and he, wereof Saint George, in the borough of Southwark, on the lefthandside of the way going southward, the Marshalsea Prison.to devote together to a necessary checking of books and papers;and he left the home he had so lately found, with depressedheart.It had stood there many years before, and it remained theresome years afterwards; but it is gone now, and the world isBut Little Dorrit?none the worse without it.The business hours, allowing for intervals of invalid regimenIt was an oblong pile of barrack building, partitioned intoof oysters and partridges, during which Clennam refreshedsqualid houses standing back to back, so that there were nohimself with a walk, were from ten to six for about a fortnight.back rooms; environed by a narrow paved yard, hemmed inSometimes Little Dorrit was employed at her needle, sometimesnot, sometimes appeared as a humble visitor: which mustby high walls duly spiked at top. Itself a close and confinedprison for debtors, it contained within it a much closer and59

Charles Dickensmore confined jail for smugglers. Offenders against the revenuelaws, and defaulters to excise or customs who had in-walking out again as soon as he hadn’t done it—neatlybody pretended to do his something: and made a reality ofcurred fines which they were unable to pay, were supposed to epitomising the administration of most of the public affairs inbe incarcerated behind an iron-plated door closing up a secondprison, consisting of a strong cell or two, and a blind alley There had been taken to the Marshalsea Prison, long beforeour right little, tight little, island.some yard and a half wide, which formed the mysterious terminationof the very limited skittle-ground in which the of this narrative, a debtor with whom this narrative has somethe day when the sun shone on Marseilles and on the openingMarshalsea debtors bowled down their troubles.concern.Supposed to be incarcerated there, because the time had He was, at that time, a very amiable and very helpless middleagedgentleman, who was going out again directly. Necessar-rather outgrown the strong cells and the blind alley. In practicethey had come to be considered a little too bad, though in ily, he was going out again directly, because the Marshalseatheory they were quite as good as ever; which may be observedto be the case at the present day with other cells that a portmanteau with him, which he doubted its being worthlock never turned upon a debtor who was not. He brought inare not at all strong, and with other blind alleys that are stoneblind.Hence the smugglers habitually consorted with the debt-them, the turnkey on the lock said—that he was going outwhile to unpack; he was so perfectly clear—like all the rest ofors (who received them with open arms), except at certain again directly.constitutional moments when somebody came from some Office,to go through some form of overlooking something which nate style; with a mild voice, curling hair, and irresolute hands—He was a shy, retiring man; well-looking, though in an effemi-neither he nor anybody else knew anything about. On these rings upon the fingers in those days—which nervously wanderedtruly British occasions, the smugglers, if any, made a feint of to his trembling lip a hundred times in the first half-hour of hiswalking into the strong cells and the blind alley, while this some-acquaintance with the jail. His principal anxiety was about his wife.60

Little Dorrit – Book One‘Do you think, sir,’ he asked the turnkey, ‘that she will be ‘Niece, nevy, cousin, serwant, young ‘ooman,very much shocked, if she should come to the gate to-morrow greengrocer.—Dash it!morning?’One or another on ‘em,’ said the turnkey, repudiating beforehandthe refusal of all his suggestions.The turnkey gave it as the result of his experience that someof ‘em was and some of ‘em wasn’t. In general, more no than ‘I fear—I hope it is not against the rules—that she will bringyes. ‘What like is she, you see?’ he philosophically asked: the children.’‘that’s what it hinges on.’‘The children?’ said the turnkey. ‘And the rules? Why, lord‘She is very delicate and inexperienced indeed.’set you up like a corner pin, we’ve a reg’lar playground o’‘That,’ said the turnkey, ‘is agen her.’children here. Children! Why we swarm with ‘em. How many‘She is so little used to go out alone,’ said the debtor, ‘that I a you got?’am at a loss to think how she will ever make her way here, if ‘Two,’ said the debtor, lifting his irresolute hand to his lipshe walks.’again, and turning into the prison.‘P’raps,’ quoth the turnkey, ‘she’ll take a ackney coach.’ The turnkey followed him with his eyes. ‘And you another,’‘Perhaps.’ The irresolute fingers went to the trembling lip. ‘I he observed to himself, ‘which makes three on you. And yourhope she will. She may not think of it.’wife another, I’ll lay a crown. Which makes four on you. And‘Or p’raps,’ said the turnkey, offering his suggestions from another coming, I’ll lay half-a-crown. Which’ll make five onthe the top of his well-worn wooden stool, as he might have you. And I’ll go another seven and sixpence to name which isoffered them to a child for whose weakness he felt a compassion,‘p’raps she’ll get her brother, or her sister, to come along He was right in all his particulars. She came next day with athe helplessest, the unborn baby or you!’with her.’little boy of three years old, and a little girl of two, and he‘She has no brother or sister.’stood entirely corroborated.61

Charles Dickens‘Got a room now; haven’t you?’ the turnkey asked the debtor hensible could be made of his case. To question him in detail,after a week or two.and endeavour to reconcile his answers; to closet him with‘Yes, I have got a very good room.’accountants and sharp practitioners, learned in the wiles of‘Any little sticks a coming to furnish it?’ said the turnkey. insolvency and bankruptcy; was only to put the case out at‘I expect a few necessary articles of furniture to be deliveredby the carrier, this afternoon.’gers fluttered more and more ineffectually about the tremblingcompound interest and incomprehensibility. The irresolute fin-‘Missis and little ‘uns a coming to keep you company?’ asked lip on every such occasion, and the sharpest practitioners gavethe turnkey.him up as a hopeless job.‘Why, yes, we think it better that we should not be scattered,even for a few weeks.’tors take him by the shoulders and shove him out.’‘Out?’ said the turnkey, ‘he’ll never get out, unless his credi-‘Even for a few weeks, OF course,’ replied the turnkey. He had been there five or six months, when he came runningAnd he followed him again with his eyes, and nodded his head to this turnkey one forenoon to tell him, breathless and pale,seven times when he was gone.that his wife was ill.The affairs of this debtor were perplexed by a partnership, ‘As anybody might a known she would be,’ said the turnkey.of which he knew no more than that he had invested money init; by legal matters of assignment and settlement, conveyance ‘We intended,’ he returned, ‘that she should go to a countryhere and conveyance there, suspicion of unlawful preference lodging only to-morrow. What am I to do! Oh, good heaven,of creditors in this direction, and of mysterious spiriting away what am I to do!’of property in that; and as nobody on the face of the earth ‘Don’t waste your time in clasping your hands and bitingcould be more incapable of explaining any single item in the your fingers,’ responded the practical turnkey, taking him byheap of confusion than the debtor himself, nothing compre-the elbow, ‘but come along with me.’62

Little Dorrit – Book OneThe turnkey conducted him—trembling from head to foot, said the doctor. ‘I’m the boy!’ With that the doctor took aand constantly crying under his breath, What was he to do! comb from the chimney-piece and stuck his hair upright—while his irresolute fingers bedabbled the tears upon his face— which appeared to be his way of washing himself—producedup one of the common staircases in the prison to a door on the a professional chest or case, of most abject appearance, fromgarret story. Upon which door the turnkey knocked with the the cupboard where his cup and saucer and coals were, settledhandle of his key.his chin in the frowsy wrapper round his neck, and became a‘Come in!’ cried a voice inside.ghastly medical scarecrow.The turnkey, opening the door, disclosed in a wretched, illsmellinglittle room, two hoarse, puffy, red-faced personages key to return to the lock, and made for the debtor’s room. AllThe doctor and the debtor ran down-stairs, leaving the turn-seated at a rickety table, playing at all-fours, smoking pipes, the ladies in the prison had got hold of the news, and were inand drinking brandy. ‘Doctor,’ said the turnkey, ‘here’s a the yard. Some of them had already taken possession of thegentleman’s wife in want of you without a minute’s loss of time!’ two children, and were hospitably carrying them off; othersThe doctor’s friend was in the positive degree of hoarseness,puffiness, red-facedness, all-fours, tobacco, dirt, and store; others were sympathising with the greatest volubility.were offering loans of little comforts from their own scantybrandy; the doctor in the comparative—hoarser, puffier, more The gentlemen prisoners, feeling themselves at a disadvantage,had for the most part retired, not to say sneaked, to theirred-faced, more all-fourey, tobaccoer, dirtier, and brandier.The doctor was amazingly shabby, in a torn and darned roughweathersea-jacket, out at elbows and eminently short of but-complimented the doctor with whistles as he passed below,rooms; from the open windows of which some of them nowtons (he had been in his time the experienced surgeon carried while others, with several stories between them, interchangedby a passenger ship), the dirtiest white trousers conceivable sarcastic references to the prevalent excitement.by mortal man, carpet slippers, and no visible linen. ‘Childbed?’ It was a hot summer day, and the prison rooms were baking63

Charles Dickensbetween the high walls. In the debtor’s confined chamber, Mrs for I couldn’t name the time when. And you a crying too?’Bangham, charwoman and messenger, who was not a prisoner(though she had been once), but was the popular me-Making yourself so famous! With the flies a falling into thesaid Mrs Bangham, to rally the patient more and more. ‘You!dium of communication with the outer world, had volunteered gallipots by fifties! And everything a going on so well! Andher services as fly-catcher and general attendant. The walls here if there ain’t,’ said Mrs Bangham as the door opened, ‘ifand ceiling were blackened with flies. Mrs Bangham, expert in there ain’t your dear gentleman along with Dr Haggage! Andsudden device, with one hand fanned the patient with a cabbageleaf, and with the other set traps of vinegar and sugar in The doctor was scarcely the kind of apparition to inspire anow indeed we are complete, I think!’gallipots; at the same time enunciating sentiments of an encouragingand congratulatory nature, adapted to the occasion. ently delivered the opinion, ‘We are as right as we can be,patient with a sense of absolute completeness, but as he pres-‘The flies trouble you, don’t they, my dear?’ said Mrs Mrs Bangham, and we shall come out of this like a houseBangham. ‘But p’raps they’ll take your mind off of it, and do afire;’ and as he and Mrs Bangham took possession of theyou good. What between the buryin ground, the grocer’s, the poor helpless pair, as everybody else and anybody else hadwaggon-stables, and the paunch trade, the Marshalsea flies always done, the means at hand were as good on the whole asgets very large. P’raps they’re sent as a consolation, if we only better would have been. The special feature in Dr Haggage’sknow’d it. How are you now, my dear? No better? No, my treatment of the case, was his determination to keep Mrsdear, it ain’t to be expected; you’ll be worse before you’re Bangham up to the mark. As thus:better, and you know it, don’t you? Yes. That’s right! And to ‘Mrs Bangham,’ said the doctor, before he had been therethink of a sweet little cherub being born inside the lock! Now twenty minutes, ‘go outside and fetch a little brandy, or weain’t it pretty, ain’t that something to carry you through it pleasant?Why, we ain’t had such a thing happen here, my dear, not ‘Thank you, sir. But none on my accounts,’ said Mrsshall have you giving in.’Bangham.64

Little Dorrit – Book One‘Mrs Bangham,’ returned the doctor, ‘I am in professional By this time, the rings had begun to fall from the debtor’sattendance on this lady, and don’t choose to allow any discussionon your part. Go outside and fetch a little brandy, or I left upon them that night, when he put something that chinkedirresolute hands, like leaves from a wintry tree. Not one wasforesee that you’ll break down.’into the doctor’s greasy palm. In the meantime Mrs Bangham‘You’re to be obeyed, sir,’ said Mrs Bangham, rising. ‘If had been out on an errand to a neighbouring establishmentyou was to put your own lips to it, I think you wouldn’t be the decorated with three golden balls, where she was very wellworse, for you look but poorly, sir.’known.‘Mrs Bangham,’ returned the doctor, ‘I am not your business,thank you, but you are mine. Never you mind ME, if you quite composed. Doing charmingly.’‘Thank you,’ said the doctor, ‘thank you. Your good lady isplease. What you have got to do, is, to do as you are told, and ‘I am very happy and very thankful to know it,’ said theto go and get what I bid you.’debtor, ‘though I little thought once, that—’Mrs Bangham submitted; and the doctor, having administeredher potion, took his own. He repeated the treatment the doctor. ‘Bah, bah, sir, what does it signify? A little more‘That a child would be born to you in a place like this?’ saidevery hour, being very determined with Mrs Bangham. Three elbow-room is all we want here. We are quiet here; we don’tor four hours passed; the flies fell into the traps by hundreds; get badgered here; there’s no knocker here, sir, to be hammeredat by creditors and bring a man’s heart into his mouth.and at length one little life, hardly stronger than theirs, appearedamong the multitude of lesser deaths.Nobody comes here to ask if a man’s at home, and to say‘A very nice little girl indeed,’ said the doctor; ‘little, but he’ll stand on the door mat till he is. Nobody writes threateningletters about money to this place. It’s freedom, sir, it’s free-well-formed. Halloa, Mrs Bangham! You’re looking queer!You be off, ma’am, this minute, and fetch a little more brandy, dom! I have had to-day’s practice at home and abroad, on aor we shall have you in hysterics.’march, and aboard ship, and I’ll tell you this: I don’t know that65

Charles DickensI have ever pursued it under such quiet circumstances as here When he was relieved of the perplexed affairs that nothingthis day. Elsewhere, people are restless, worried, hurried about, would make plain, through having them returned upon his handsanxious respecting one thing, anxious respecting another. Nothingof the kind here, sir. We have done all that—we know the ginning, middle, nor end of them or him, he found his miserableby a dozen agents in succession who could make neither be-worst of it; we have got to the bottom, we can’t fall, and what place of refuge a quieter refuge than it had been before. Hehave we found? Peace. That’s the word for it. Peace.’ With had unpacked the portmanteau long ago; and his elder childrennow played regularly about the yard, and everybody knewthis profession of faith, the doctor, who was an old jail-bird,and was more sodden than usual, and had the additional and the baby, and claimed a kind of proprietorship in her.unusual stimulus of money in his pocket, returned to his associateand chum in hoarseness, puffiness, red-facedness, all-one day. ‘You’ll be the oldest inhabitant soon. The Marshalsea‘Why, I’m getting proud of you,’ said his friend the turnkey,fours, tobacco, dirt, and brandy.wouldn’t be like the Marshalsea now, without you and yourNow, the debtor was a very different man from the doctor, family.’but he had already begun to travel, by his opposite segment of The turnkey really was proud of him. He would mention himthe circle, to the same point. Crushed at first by his imprisonment,he had soon found a dull relief in it. He was under lock ‘You took notice of him,’ he would say, ‘that went out of thein laudatory terms to new-comers, when his back was turned.and key; but the lock and key that kept him in, kept numbers lodge just now?’of his troubles out. If he had been a man with strength of purposeto face those troubles and fight them, he might have bro-‘Brought up as a gentleman, he was, if ever a man was.New-comer would probably answer Yes.ken the net that held him, or broken his heart; but being what Ed’cated at no end of expense. Went into the Marshal’s househe was, he languidly slipped into this smooth descent, and never once to try a new piano for him. Played it, I understand, likemore took one step upward.one o’clock—beautiful! As to languages—speaks anything.66

Little Dorrit – Book OneWe’ve had a Frenchman here in his time, and it’s my opinion Then Mrs Bangham, long popular medium of communicationwith the outer world, began to be infirm, and to be foundhe knowed more French than the Frenchman did. We’ve hadan Italian here in his time, and he shut him up in about half a oftener than usual comatose on pavements, with her basket ofminute. You’ll find some characters behind other locks, I don’t purchases spilt, and the change of her clients ninepence short.say you won’t; but if you want the top sawyer in such respects His son began to supersede Mrs Bangham, and to executeas I’ve mentioned, you must come to the Marshalsea.’ commissions in a knowing manner, and to be of the prisonWhen his youngest child was eight years old, his wife, who prisonous, of the streets streety.had long been languishing away—of her own inherent weakness,not that she retained any greater sensitiveness as to her and his legs got weak, and he was short of breath. The well-Time went on, and the turnkey began to fail. His chest swelled,place of abode than he did—went upon a visit to a poor friend worn wooden stool was ‘beyond him,’ he complained. He satand old nurse in the country, and died there. He remained shut in an arm-chair with a cushion, and sometimes wheezed so,up in his room for a fortnight afterwards; and an attorney’s for minutes together, that he couldn’t turn the key. When heclerk, who was going through the Insolvent Court, engrossed was overpowered by these fits, the debtor often turned it foran address of condolence to him, which looked like a Lease, him. ‘You and me,’ said the turnkey, one snowy winter’s nightand which all the prisoners signed.when the lodge, with a bright fire in it, was pretty full of company,‘is the oldest inhabitants. I wasn’t here myself aboveWhen he appeared again he was greyer (he had soon begun toturn grey); and the turnkey noticed that his hands went often to his seven year before you. I shan’t last long. When I’m off thetrembling lips again, as they had used to do when he first came in. lock for good and all, you’ll be the Father of the Marshalsea.’But he got pretty well over it in a month or two; and in the The turnkey went off the lock of this world next day. Hismeantime the children played about the yard as regularly as words were remembered and repeated; and tradition afterwardshanded down from generation to ever, but in black.generation—a67

Charles DickensMarshalsea generation might be calculated as about three was very good company there—among a mixture—necessarilya mixture—and very good air.months—that the shabby old debtor with the soft manner andthe white hair, was the Father of the Marshalsea.It became a not unusual circumstance for letters to be putAnd he grew to be proud of the title. If any impostor had under his door at night, enclosing half-a-crown, two halfcrowns,now and then at long intervals even half-a-sovereign,arisen to claim it, he would have shed tears in resentment ofthe attempt to deprive him of his rights. A disposition began to for the Father of the Marshalsea. ‘With the compliments of abe perceived in him to exaggerate the number of years he had collegian taking leave.’ He received the gifts as tributes, frombeen there; it was generally understood that you must deduct admirers, to a public character. Sometimes these correspondentsassumed facetious names, as the Brick, Bellows, Olda few from his account; he was vain, the fleeting generations ofdebtors said.Gooseberry, Wideawake, Snooks, Mops, Cutaway, the DogsmeatMan; but he considered this in bad taste, and was al-All new-comers were presented to him. He was punctiliousin the exaction of this ceremony. The wits would perform the ways a little hurt by it.office of introduction with overcharged pomp and politeness,but they could not easily overstep his sense of its gravity. He IN THE FULNESS OF TIME, this correspondence showing signs ofreceived them in his poor room (he disliked an introduction in wearing out, and seeming to require an effort on the part of thethe mere yard, as informal—a thing that might happen to anybody),with a kind of bowed-down beneficence. They were ture many of them might not be equal, he established the customcorrespondents to which in the hurried circumstances of depar-welcome to the Marshalsea, he would tell them. Yes, he was of attending collegians of a certain standing, to the gate, andthe Father of the place. So the world was kind enough to call taking leave of them there. The collegian under treatment, afterhim; and so he was, if more than twenty years of residence shaking hands, would occasionally stop to wrap up somethinggave him a claim to the title. It looked small at first, but there in a bit of paper, and would come back again calling ‘Hi!’68

Little Dorrit – Book OneHe would look round surprised.’Me?’ he would say, with a They were pretty far divided, going their several ways, whensmile. By this time the collegian would be up with him, and he the Plasterer called out, ‘I say!—sir!’ and came back to him.would paternally add,’What have you forgotten? What can I ‘It ain’t much,’ said the Plasterer, putting a little pile ofdo for you?’halfpence in his hand, ‘but it’s well meant.’‘I forgot to leave this,’ the collegian would usually return, The Father of the Marshalsea had never been offered tributein copper yet. His children often had, and with his perfect‘for the Father of the Marshalsea.’‘My good sir,’ he would rejoin, ‘he is infinitely obliged to acquiescence it had gone into the common purse to buy meatyou.’ But, to the last, the irresolute hand of old would remain that he had eaten, and drink that he had drunk; but fustianin the pocket into which he had slipped the money during two splashed with white lime, bestowing halfpence on him, front toor three turns about the yard, lest the transaction should be front, was new.too conspicuous to the general body of collegians.‘How dare you!’ he said to the man, and feebly burst intoOne afternoon he had been doing the honours of the place tears.to a rather large party of collegians, who happened to be goingout, when, as he was coming back, he encountered one not be seen; and the action was so delicate, and the man wasThe Plasterer turned him towards the wall, that his face mightfrom the poor side who had been taken in execution for a so penetrated with repentance, and asked pardon so honestly,small sum a week before, had ‘settled’ in the course of that that he could make him no less acknowledgment than, ‘I knowafternoon, and was going out too. The man was a mere Plastererin his working dress; had his wife with him, and a bundle; ‘Bless your soul, sir,’ urged the Plasterer, ‘I did indeed. I’dyou meant it kindly. Say no more.’and was in high spirits.do more by you than the rest of ‘em do, I fancy.’‘God bless you, sir,’ he said in passing.‘What would you do?’ he asked.‘And you,’ benignantly returned the Father of the Marshalsea. ‘I’d come back to see you, after I was let out.’69

Charles Dickens‘Give me the money again,’ said the other, eagerly, ‘and I’ll ‘Oh! I don’t object,’ replied the turnkey, ‘if you don’t.’keep it, and never spend it. Thank you for it, thank you! I shall Thus it came to pass that she was christened one Sundaysee you again?’ ‘If I live a week you shall.’afternoon, when the turnkey, being relieved, was off the lock;They shook hands and parted. The collegians, assembled in and that the turnkey went up to the font of Saint George’sSymposium in the Snuggery that night, marvelled what had Church, and promised and vowed and renounced on her behalf,as he himself related when he came back, ‘like a goodhappened to their Father; he walked so late in the shadows ofthe yard, and seemed so downcast.‘un.’This invested the turnkey with a new proprietary share in thechild, over and above his former official one. When she beganCHAPTER 7 The Child of the Marshalseato walk and talk, he became fond of her; bought a little armchairand stood it by the high fender of the lodge fire-place;THE BABY WHOSE first draught of air had been tinctured withliked to have her company when he was on the lock; and usedDoctor Haggage’s brandy, was handed down among the generationsof collegians, like the tradition of their common par-to bribe her with cheap toys to come and talk to him. Thechild, for her part, soon grew so fond of the turnkey that sheent. In the earlier stages of her existence, she was handedwould come climbing up the lodge-steps of her own accord atdown in a literal and prosaic sense; it being almost a part of theall hours of the day. When she fell asleep in the little armchairentrance footing of every new collegian to nurse the child whoby the high fender, the turnkey would cover her with his pockethandkerchief;and when she sat in it dressing and undressing ahad been born in the college.‘By rights,’ remarked the turnkey when she was first showndoll which soon came to be unlike dolls on the other side ofto him, ‘I ought to be her godfather.’the lock, and to bear a horrible family resemblance to MrsThe debtor irresolutely thought of it for a minute, and said,Bangham—he would contemplate her from the top of his stool‘Perhaps you wouldn’t object to really being her godfather?’70

Little Dorrit – Book Onewith exceeding gentleness. Witnessing these things, the collegianswould express an opinion that the turnkey, who was a wayward sister; for her idle brother; for the high blank walls;eight years of her life. With a pitiful and plaintive look for herbachelor, had been cut out by nature for a family man. But the for the faded crowd they shut in; for the games of the prisonturnkey thanked them, and said, ‘No, on the whole it was children as they whooped and ran, and played at hide-andseek,and made the iron bars of the inner gateway ‘Home.’enough to see other people’s children there.’ At what periodof her early life the little creature began to perceive that it was Wistful and wondering, she would sit in summer weather bynot the habit of all the world to live locked up in narrow yards the high fender in the lodge, looking up at the sky through thesurrounded by high walls with spikes at the top, would be a barred window, until, when she turned her eyes away, bars ofdifficult question to settle. But she was a very, very little creatureindeed, when she had somehow gained the knowledge see him through a grating, too. ‘Thinking of the fields,’ thelight would arise between her and her friend, and she wouldthat her clasp of her father’s hand was to be always loosened turnkey said once, after watching her, ‘ain’t you?’at the door which the great key opened; and that while her ‘Where are they?’ she inquired.own light steps were free to pass beyond it, his feet must never ‘Why, they’re—over there, my dear,’ said the turnkey, withcross that line. A pitiful and plaintive look, with which she had a vague flourish of his key. ‘Just about there.’begun to regard him when she was still extremely young, was ‘Does anybody open them, and shut them? Are they locked?’perhaps a part of this discovery.The turnkey was discomfited. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘Not in general.’With a pitiful and plaintive look for everything, indeed, butwith something in it for only him that was like protection, this ‘Are they very pretty, Bob?’ She called him Bob, by hisChild of the Marshalsea and the child of the Father of the own particular request and instruction.Marshalsea, sat by her friend the turnkey in the lodge, kept the ‘Lovely. Full of flowers. There’s buttercups, and there’s daisies,and there’s’—the turnkey hesitated, being short of family room, or wandered about the prison-yard, for the firstfloral71

Charles Dickensnomenclature—’there’s dandelions, and all manner of games.’ then they would come back hand in hand, unless she was more‘Is it very pleasant to be there, Bob?’than usually tired, and had fallen asleep on his shoulder.‘Prime,’ said the turnkey.In those early days, the turnkey first began profoundly to‘Was father ever there?’consider a question which cost him so much mental labour,‘Hem!’ coughed the turnkey. ‘O yes, he was there, sometimes.cidedto will and bequeath his little property of savings to histhat it remained undetermined on the day of his death. He de-‘Is he sorry not to be there now?’godchild, and the point arose how could it be so ‘tied up’ as‘N-not particular,’ said the turnkey.that only she should have the benefit of it? His experience on‘Nor any of the people?’ she asked, glancing at the listless the lock gave him such an acute perception of the enormouscrowd within. ‘O are you quite sure and certain, Bob?’ difficulty of ‘tying up’ money with any approach to tightness,At this difficult point of the conversation Bob gave in, and and contrariwise of the remarkable ease with which it got loose,changed the subject to hard-bake: always his last resource that through a series of years he regularly propounded thiswhen he found his little friend getting him into a political, social, knotty point to every new insolvent agent and other professionalgentleman who passed in and out.or theological corner. But this was the origin of a series ofSunday excursions that these two curious companions made ‘Supposing,’ he would say, stating the case with his key ontogether. They used to issue from the lodge on alternate Sundayafternoons with great gravity, bound for some meadows wanted to leave his property to a young female, and wanted tothe professional gentleman’s waistcoat; ‘supposing a manor green lanes that had been elaborately appointed by the turnkeyin the course of the week; and there she picked grass and grab at it; how would you tie up that property?’tie it up so that nobody else should ever be able to make aflowers to bring home, while he smoked his pipe. Afterwards, ‘Settle it strictly on herself,’ the professional gentleman wouldthere were tea-gardens, shrimps, ale, and other delicacies; and complacently answer.72

Little Dorrit – Book One‘But look here,’ quoth the turnkey. ‘Supposing she had, say ing him. But this made her so far necessary to him that hea brother, say a father, say a husband, who would be likely to became accustomed to her, and began to be sensible of missingher when she was not there. Through this little gate, shemake a grab at that property when she came into it—howabout that?’passed out of childhood into the care-laden world.‘It would be settled on herself, and they would have no more What her pitiful look saw, at that early time, in her father, inlegal claim on it than you,’ would be the professional answer. her sister, in her brother, in the jail; how much, or how little of‘Stop a bit,’ said the turnkey. ‘Supposing she was tenderhearted,and they came over her. Where’s your law for tying it hidden with many mysteries. It is enough that she was inspiredthe wretched truth it pleased God to make visible to her; liesup then?’to be something which was not what the rest were, and to beThe deepest character whom the turnkey sounded, was unableto produce his law for tying such a knot as that. So, the Inspired? Yes. Shall we speak of the inspiration of a poet or athat something, different and laborious, for the sake of the rest.turnkey thought about it all his life, and died intestate after all. priest, and not of the heart impelled by love and self-devotionBut that was long afterwards, when his god-daughter was to the lowliest work in the lowliest way of life!past sixteen. The first half of that space of her life was only just With no earthly friend to help her, or so much as to see her, butaccomplished, when her pitiful and plaintive look saw her fathera widower. From that time the protection that her wonmondaily tone and habits of the common members of the freethe one so strangely assorted; with no knowledge even of the comderingeyes had expressed towards him, became embodied in community who are not shut up in prisons; born and bred in a socialaction, and the Child of the Marshalsea took upon herself a condition, false even with a reference to the falsest condition outsidenew relation towards the Father.the walls; drinking from infancy of a well whose waters had theirAt first, such a baby could do little more than sit with him, own peculiar stain, their own unwholesome and unnatural taste; thedeserting her livelier place by the high fender, and quietly watch-Child of the Marshalsea began her womanly life.73

Charles DickensNo matter through what mistakes and discouragements, what of inmates there appeared a dancing-master. Her sister had aridicule (not unkindly meant, but deeply felt) of her youth and great desire to learn the dancing-master’s art, and seemed tolittle figure, what humble consciousness of her own babyhood have a taste that way. At thirteen years old, the Child of theand want of strength, even in the matter of lifting and carrying; Marshalsea presented herself to the dancing-master, with athrough how much weariness and hopelessness, and how many little bag in her hand, and preferred her humble petition.secret tears; she drudged on, until recognised as useful, even ‘If you please, I was born here, sir.’indispensable. That time came. She took the place of eldest of ‘Oh! You are the young lady, are you?’ said the dancingmaster,surveying the small figure and uplifted face.the three, in all things but precedence; was the head of thefallen family; and bore, in her own heart, its anxieties and ‘Yes, sir.’shames.‘And what can I do for you?’ said the dancing-master.At thirteen, she could read and keep accounts, that is, could ‘Nothing for me, sir, thank you,’ anxiously undrawing theput down in words and figures how much the bare necessaries strings of the little bag; ‘but if, while you stay here, you couldthat they wanted would cost, and how much less they had to be so kind as to teach my sister cheap—’buy them with. She had been, by snatches of a few weeks at a ‘My child, I’ll teach her for nothing,’ said the dancing-master,shutting up the bag. He was as good-natured a dancing-time, to an evening school outside, and got her sister and brothersent to day-schools by desultory starts, during three or four years. master as ever danced to the Insolvent Court, and he kept hisThere was no instruction for any of them at home; but she knew word. The sister was so apt a pupil, and the dancing-masterwell—no one better—that a man so broken as to be the Father had such abundant leisure to bestow upon her (for it took himof the Marshalsea, could be no father to his own children. a matter of ten weeks to set to his creditors, lead off, turn theTo these scanty means of improvement, she added another Commissioners, and right and left back to his professionalof her own contriving. Once, among the heterogeneous crowd pursuits), that wonderful progress was made. Indeed the danc-74

Little Dorrit – Book Oneing-master was so proud of it, and so wishful to display it ‘I am sorry I haven’t got anything for you,’ said the milliner,before he left to a few select friends among the collegians, that shaking her head.at six o’clock on a certain fine morning, a minuet de la cour ‘It’s not that, ma’am. If you please I want to learn needlework.’came off in the yard—the college-rooms being of too confinedproportions for the purpose—in which so much ground ‘Why should you do that,’ returned the milliner, ‘with mewas covered, and the steps were so conscientiously executed, before you? It has not done me much good.’that the dancing-master, having to play the kit besides, was ‘Nothing—whatever it is—seems to have done anybodythoroughly blown.much good who comes here,’ she returned in all simplicity;The success of this beginning, which led to the dancingmaster’scontinuing his instruction after his release, emboldened ‘I am afraid you are so weak, you see,’ the milliner ob-‘but I want to learn just the same.’the poor child to try again. She watched and waited months jected.for a seamstress. In the fulness of time a milliner came in, and ‘I don’t think I am weak, ma’am.’to her she repaired on her own behalf.‘And you are so very, very little, you see,’ the milliner objected.‘I beg your pardon, ma’am,’ she said, looking timidly roundthe door of the milliner, whom she found in tears and in bed: ‘Yes, I am afraid I am very little indeed,’ returned the Child‘but I was born here.’of the Marshalsea; and so began to sob over that unfortunateEverybody seemed to hear of her as soon as they arrived; defect of hers, which came so often in her way. The milliner—for the milliner sat up in bed, drying her eyes, and said, just as who was not morose or hard-hearted, only newly insolvent—the dancing-master had said:was touched, took her in hand with goodwill, found her the‘Oh! You are the child, are you?’most patient and earnest of pupils, and made her a cunning‘Yes, ma’am.’work-woman in course of time.75

Charles DickensIn course of time, and in the very self-same course of time, amateur in his better days; and when he fell with his brother,the Father of the Marshalsea gradually developed a new flower resorted for support to playing a clarionet as dirty as himself inof character. The more Fatherly he grew as to the Marshalsea, a small Theatre Orchestra. It was the theatre in which his nieceand the more dependent he became on the contributions of his became a dancer; he had been a fixture there a long time whenchanging family, the greater stand he made by his forlorn gentility.With the same hand that he pocketed a collegian’s half-serving as her escort and guardian, just as he would have ac-she took her poor station in it; and he accepted the task ofcrown half an hour ago, he would wipe away the tears that cepted an illness, a legacy, a feast, starvation—anything butstreamed over his cheeks if any reference were made to his soap.daughters’ earning their bread. So, over and above other daily To enable this girl to earn her few weekly shillings, it wascares, the Child of the Marshalsea had always upon her the necessary for the Child of the Marshalsea to go through ancare of preserving the genteel fiction that they were all idle elaborate form with the Father.beggars together.‘Fanny is not going to live with us just now, father. She willThe sister became a dancer. There was a ruined uncle in the be here a good deal in the day, but she is going to live outsidefamily group—ruined by his brother, the Father of the with uncle.’Marshalsea, and knowing no more how than his ruiner did, ‘You surprise me. Why?’but accepting the fact as an inevitable certainty—on whom her ‘I think uncle wants a companion, father. He should be attendedto, and looked after.’protection devolved. Naturally a retired and simple man, hehad shown no particular sense of being ruined at the time when ‘A companion? He passes much of his time here. And youthat calamity fell upon him, further than that he left off washing attend to him and look after him, Amy, a great deal more thanhimself when the shock was announced, and never took to ever your sister will. You all go out so much; you all go out sothat luxury any more. He had been a very indifferent musical much.’76

Little Dorrit – Book OneThis was to keep up the ceremony and pretence of his havingno idea that Amy herself went out by the day to work. within the walls.name was Edward, and Ted had been transformed into Tip,‘But we are always glad to come home, father; now, are we The turnkey had strong private opinions as to what wouldnot? And as to Fanny, perhaps besides keeping uncle companyand taking care of him, it may be as well for her not quite of averting their fulfilment, as to sound Tip in reference to thebecome of poor Tip, and had even gone so far with the viewto live here, always. She was not born here as I was, you expediency of running away and going to serve his country.know, father.’But Tip had thanked him, and said he didn’t seem to care for‘Well, Amy, well. I don’t quite follow you, but it’s natural I his country.suppose that Fanny should prefer to be outside, and even that ‘Well, my dear,’ said the turnkey, ‘something ought to beyou often should, too. So, you and Fanny and your uncle, my done with him. Suppose I try and get him into the law?’dear, shall have your own way. Good, good. I’ll not meddle; ‘That would be so good of you, Bob!’don’t mind me.’The turnkey had now two points to put to the professionalTo get her brother out of the prison; out of the succession to gentlemen as they passed in and out. He put this second oneMrs Bangham in executing commissions, and out of the slang so perseveringly that a stool and twelve shillings a week wereinterchange with very doubtful companions consequent upon at last found for Tip in the office of an attorney in a great NationalPalladium called the Palace Court; at that time one of aboth; was her hardest task. At eighteen he would have draggedon from hand to mouth, from hour to hour, from penny to considerable list of everlasting bulwarks to the dignity and safetypenny, until eighty. Nobody got into the prison from whom he of Albion, whose places know them no more.derived anything useful or good, and she could find no patron Tip languished in Clifford’s Inns for six months, and at thefor him but her old friend and godfather.expiration of that term sauntered back one evening with his‘Dear Bob,’ said she, ‘what is to become of poor Tip?’ His hands in his pockets, and incidentally observed to his sister77

Charles Dickensthat he was not going back again.Nevertheless, the brave little creature did so fix her heart on‘Not going back again?’ said the poor little anxious Child of her brother’s rescue, that while he was ringing out these dolefulchanges, she pinched and scraped enough together to shipthe Marshalsea, always calculating and planning for Tip, in thefront rank of her charges.him for Canada. When he was tired of nothing to do, and‘I am so tired of it,’ said Tip, ‘that I have cut it.’disposed in its turn to cut even that, he graciously consented toTip tired of everything. With intervals of Marshalsea lounging,and Mrs Bangham succession, his small second mother, with him, and joy in the hope of his being put in a straightgo to Canada. And there was grief in her bosom over partingaided by her trusty friend, got him into a warehouse, into a course at last.market garden, into the hop trade, into the law again, into an ‘God bless you, dear Tip. Don’t be too proud to come andauctioneers, into a brewery, into a stockbroker’s, into the law see us, when you have made your fortune.’again, into a coach office, into a waggon office, into the law ‘All right!’ said Tip, and went.again, into a general dealer’s, into a distillery, into the law again, But not all the way to Canada; in fact, not further thaninto a wool house, into a dry goods house, into the Billingsgate Liverpool.trade, into the foreign fruit trade, and into the docks. But whateverTip went into, he came out of tired, announcing that he himself so strongly impelled to cut the vessel, that he resolvedAfter making the voyage to that port from London, he foundhad cut it. Wherever he went, this foredoomed Tip appeared to walk back again. Carrying out which intention, he presentedto take the prison walls with him, and to set them up in such himself before her at the expiration of a month, in rags, withouttrade or calling; and to prowl about within their narrow limits shoes, and much more tired than ever. At length, after anotherin the old slip-shod, purposeless, down-at-heel way; until the interval of successorship to Mrs Bangham, he found a pursuitreal immovable Marshalsea walls asserted their fascination over for himself, and announced it.him, and brought him back.‘Amy, I have got a situation.’78

Little Dorrit – Book One‘Have you really and truly, Tip?’‘I am afraid, Amy, you’ll be vexed this time. Upon my life I‘All right. I shall do now. You needn’t look anxious about am!’me any more, old girl.’‘I am very sorry to hear you say so, Tip. Have you come‘What is it, Tip?’back?’‘Why, you know Slingo by sight?’‘Why—yes.’‘Not the man they call the dealer?’‘Not expecting this time that what you had found would answervery well, I am less surprised and sorry than I might have‘That’s the chap. He’ll be out on Monday, and he’s going togive me a berth.’been, Tip.’‘What is he a dealer in, Tip?’‘Ah! But that’s not the worst of it.’‘Horses. All right! I shall do now, Amy.’‘Not the worst of it?’She lost sight of him for months afterwards, and only heard ‘Don’t look so startled. No, Amy, not the worst of it. I havefrom him once. A whisper passed among the elder collegians come back, you see; but—don’t look so startled—I have comethat he had been seen at a mock auction in Moorfields, pretendingto buy plated articles for massive silver, and paying for altogether. I am in now, as one of the regulars.’back in what I may call a new way. I am off the volunteer listthem with the greatest liberality in bank notes; but it never ‘Oh! Don’t say you are a prisoner, Tip! Don’t, don’t!’reached her ears. One evening she was alone at work—standingup at the window, to save the twilight lingering above the ‘but if you can’t understand me without my saying it, what am‘Well, I don’t want to say it,’ he returned in a reluctant tone;wall—when he opened the door and walked in.I to do? I am in for forty pound odd.’She kissed and welcomed him; but was afraid to ask him For the first time in all those years, she sunk under her cares. Sheany questions. He saw how anxious and timid she was, and cried, with her clasped hands lifted above her head, that it would killappeared sorry.their father if he ever knew it; and fell down at Tip’s graceless feet.79

Charles DickensIt was easier for Tip to bring her to her senses than for her to Worldly wise in hard and poor necessities, she was innocentbring him to understand that the Father of the Marshalsea would in all things else. Innocent, in the mist through which she sawbe beside himself if he knew the truth. The thing was incomprehensibleto Tip, and altogether a fanciful notion. He yielded through it and flowed on.her father, and the prison, and the turbid living river that flowedto it in that light only, when he submitted to her entreaties,backed by those of his uncle and sister. There was no want of THIS WAS THE LIFE, and this the history, of Little Dorrit; nowprecedent for his return; it was accounted for to the father in going home upon a dull September evening, observed at athe usual way; and the collegians, with a better comprehension distance by Arthur Clennam. This was the life, and this theof the pious fraud than Tip, supported it loyally.history, of Little Dorrit; turning at the end of London Bridge,This was the life, and this the history, of the child of the recrossing it, going back again, passing on to Saint George’sMarshalsea at twenty-two. With a still surviving attachment to Church, turning back suddenly once more, and flitting in at thethe one miserable yard and block of houses as her birthplace open outer gate and little court-yard of the Marshalsea.and home, she passed to and fro in it shrinkingly now, with awomanly consciousness that she was pointed out to every one.CHAPTER 8 The LockSince she had begun to work beyond the walls, she had foundit necessary to conceal where she lived, and to come and goARTHUR CLENNAM STOOD in the street, waiting to ask someas secretly as she could, between the free city and the ironpasser-by what place that was. He suffered a few people togates, outside of which she had never slept in her life. Herpass him in whose face there was no encouragement to makeoriginal timidity had grown with this concealment, and her lightthe inquiry, and still stood pausing in the street, when an oldstep and her little figure shunned the thronged streets whileman came up and turned into the courtyard.they passed along them.He stooped a good deal, and plodded along in a slow pre-80

Little Dorrit – Book Oneoccupied manner, which made the bustling London thoroughfaresno very safe resort for him. He was dirtily and meanly far off, and who was a little dull of hearing also.pression in his weak grey eyes of one whose thoughts had beendressed, in a threadbare coat, once blue, reaching to his ankles ‘Pray, sir,’ said Arthur, repeating his question, ‘what is thisand buttoned to his chin, where it vanished in the pale ghost of a place?’velvet collar. A piece of red cloth with which that phantom had ‘Ay! This place?’ returned the old man, staying his pinch ofbeen stiffened in its lifetime was now laid bare, and poked itself snuff on its road, and pointing at the place without looking at it.up, at the back of the old man’s neck, into a confusion of grey ‘This is the Marshalsea, sir.’hair and rusty stock and buckle which altogether nearly poked ‘The debtors’ prison?’his hat off. A greasy hat it was, and a napless; impending over ‘Sir,’ said the old man, with the air of deeming it not quitehis eyes, cracked and crumpled at the brim, and with a wisp of necessary to insist upon that designation, ‘the debtors’ prison.’pocket-handkerchief dangling out below it. His trousers were He turned himself about, and went on.so long and loose, and his shoes so clumsy and large, that he ‘I beg your pardon,’ said Arthur, stopping him once more,shuffled like an elephant; though how much of this was gait, and ‘but will you allow me to ask you another question? Can anyhow much trailing cloth and leather, no one could have told. one go in here?’Under one arm he carried a limp and worn-out case, containing ‘Any one can go in,’ replied the old man; plainly adding bysome wind instrument; in the same hand he had a pennyworth of the significance of his emphasis, ‘but it is not every one whosnuff in a little packet of whitey-brown paper, from which he can go out.’slowly comforted his poor blue old nose with a lengthened-out ‘Pardon me once more. Are you familiar with the place?’pinch, as Arthur Clennam looked at him. To this old man crossingthe court-yard, he preferred his inquiry, touching him on the in his hand, and turning upon his interrogator as if such questions‘Sir,’ returned the old man, squeezing his little packet of snuffshoulder. The old man stopped and looked round, with the ex-hurt him. ‘I am.’81

Charles Dickens‘I beg you to excuse me. I am not impertinently curious, but ‘I know very little of the world, sir,’ returned the other, whohave a good object. Do you know the name of Dorrit here?’ had a weak and quavering voice. ‘I am merely passing on, like‘My name, sir,’ replied the old man most unexpectedly, ‘is the shadow over the sun-dial. It would be worth no man’sDorrit.’while to mislead me; it would really be too easy—too poor aArthur pulled off his hat to him. ‘Grant me the favour of halfa-dozenwords. I was wholly unprepared for your announce-you saw go in here is my brother’s child. My brother is Will-success, to yield any satisfaction. The young woman whomment, and hope that assurance is my sufficient apology for havingtaken the liberty of addressing you. I have recently come mother’s (I know your mother befriends her), you have felt aniam Dorrit; I am Frederick. You say you have seen her at yourhome to England after a long absence. I have seen at my interest in her, and you wish to know what she does here.mother’s—Mrs Clennam in the city—a young woman workingat her needle, whom I have only heard addressed or spo-He went on again, and Arthur accompanied him.Come and see.’ken of as Little Dorrit. I have felt sincerely interested in her, ‘My brother,’ said the old man, pausing on the step andand have had a great desire to know something more about slowly facing round again, ‘has been here many years; andher. I saw her, not a minute before you came up, pass in at that much that happens even among ourselves, out of doors, isdoor.’kept from him for reasons that I needn’t enter upon now. BeThe old man looked at him attentively. ‘Are you a sailor, so good as to say nothing of my niece’s working at her needle.sir?’ he asked. He seemed a little disappointed by the shake Be so good as to say nothing that goes beyond what is saidof the head that replied to him. ‘Not a sailor? I judged from among us. If you keep within our bounds, you cannot well beyour sunburnt face that you might be. Are you in earnest, sir?’ wrong. Now! Come and see.’‘I do assure you that I am, and do entreat you to believe that Arthur followed him down a narrow entry, at the end of whichI am, in plain earnest.’a key was turned, and a strong door was opened from within.82

Little Dorrit – Book OneIt admitted them into a lodge or lobby, across which they for her father, clad in an old grey gown and a black cap, awaitingpassed, and so through another door and a grating into the his supper at the table. A clean cloth was spread before him,prison. The old man always plodding on before, turned round, with knife, fork, and spoon, salt-cellar, pepper-box, glass, andin his slow, stiff, stooping manner, when they came to the turnkeyon duty, as if to present his companion. The turnkey nodennepepper and his pennyworth of pickles in a saucer, werepewter ale-pot. Such zests as his particular little phial of cayded;and the companion passed in without being asked whom not wanting.he wanted.She started, coloured deeply, and turned white. The visitor,The night was dark; and the prison lamps in the yard, and more with his eyes than by the slight impulsive motion of histhe candles in the prison windows faintly shining behind many hand, entreated her to be reassured and to trust him.sorts of wry old curtain and blind, had not the air of making it ‘I found this gentleman,’ said the uncle—’Mr Clennam, William,son of Amy’s friend—at the outer gate, wishful, as helighter. A few people loitered about, but the greater part of thepopulation was within doors. The old man, taking the righthandside of the yard, turned in at the third or fourth doorway, come in or not. This is my brother William, sir.’was going by, of paying his respects, but hesitating whether toand began to ascend the stairs. ‘They are rather dark, sir, but ‘I hope,’ said Arthur, very doubtful what to say, ‘that myyou will not find anything in the way.’respect for your daughter may explain and justify my desire toHe paused for a moment before opening a door on the secondstory. He had no sooner turned the handle than the visitor ‘Mr Clennam,’ returned the other, rising, taking his cap offbe presented to you, sir.’saw Little Dorrit, and saw the reason of her setting so much in the flat of his hand, and so holding it, ready to put on again,store by dining alone.‘you do me honour. You are welcome, sir;’ with a low bow.She had brought the meat home that she should have eaten ‘Frederick, a chair. Pray sit down, Mr Clennam.’herself, and was already warming it on a gridiron over the fire He put his black cap on again as he had taken it off, and83

Charles Dickensresumed his own seat. There was a wonderful air of benignity Evidently in observance of their nightly custom, she put someand patronage in his manner. These were the ceremonies with bread before herself, and touched his glass with her lips; butwhich he received the collegians.Arthur saw she was troubled and took nothing. Her look at‘You are welcome to the Marshalsea, sir. I have welcomed her father, half admiring him and proud of him, half ashamedmany gentlemen to these walls. Perhaps you are aware—my for him, all devoted and loving, went to his inmost heart.daughter Amy may have mentioned that I am the Father of this The Father of the Marshalsea condescended towards hisplace.’brother as an amiable, well-meaning man; a private character,‘I—so I have understood,’ said Arthur, dashing at the assertion.and Fanny sup at your lodgings to-night, I know. What havewho had not arrived at distinction. ‘Frederick,’ said he, ‘you‘You know, I dare say, that my daughter Amy was born you done with Fanny, Frederick?’ ‘She is walking with Tip.’here. A good girl, sir, a dear girl, and long a comfort and supportto me. Amy, my dear, put this dish on; Mr Clennam will been a little wild, and difficult to settle, but his introduction to‘Tip—as you may know—is my son, Mr Clennam. He hasexcuse the primitive customs to which we are reduced here. Is the world was rather’—he shrugged his shoulders with a faintit a compliment to ask you if you would do me the honour, sir, sigh, and looked round the room—’a little adverse. Your firstto—’visit here, sir?’‘Thank you,’ returned Arthur. ‘Not a morsel.’‘my first.’He felt himself quite lost in wonder at the manner of the man, ‘You could hardly have been here since your boyhood withoutmy knowledge. It very seldom happens that anybody—ofand that the probability of his daughter’s having had a reserveas to her family history, should be so far out of his mind. any pretensions-any pretensions—comes here without beingShe filled his glass, put all the little matters on the table ready presented to me.’to his hand, and then sat beside him while he ate his supper. ‘As many as forty or fifty in a day have been introduced to84

Little Dorrit – Book Onemy brother,’ said Frederick, faintly lighting up with a ray of solicitude stealing over it.pride.‘It is so generous, and shows so much fine feeling, that it is‘Yes!’ the Father of the Marshalsea assented. ‘We have even almost a duty to mention it. I said at the time that I alwaysexceeded that number. On a fine Sunday in term time, it is would mention it on every suitable occasion, without regard toquite a Levee—quite a Levee. Amy, my dear, I have been personal sensitiveness. A—well—a—it’s of no use to disguisetrying half the day to remember the name of the gentleman the fact—you must know, Mr Clennam, that it does sometimesoccur that people who come here desire to offer somefrom Camberwell who was introduced to me last Christmasweek by that agreeable coal-merchant who was remanded little—Testimonial—to the Father of the place.’for six months.’To see her hand upon his arm in mute entreaty half-repressed,‘I don’t remember his name, father.’and her timid little shrinking figure turning away, was to see a‘Frederick, do you remember his name?’ Frederick doubted sad, sad sight.if he had ever heard it. No one could doubt that Frederick ‘Sometimes,’ he went on in a low, soft voice, agitated, andwas the last person upon earth to put such a question to, with clearing his throat every now and then; ‘sometimes—hem—itany hope of information.takes one shape and sometimes another; but it is generally—‘I mean,’ said his brother, ‘the gentleman who did that handsomeaction with so much delicacy. Ha! Tush! The name has hem—acceptable. This gentleman that I refer to, was pre-ha—Money. And it is, I cannot but confess it, it is too often—quite escaped me. Mr Clennam, as I have happened to mentionhandsome and delicate action, you may like, perhaps, to feelings, and conversed not only with great politeness, but withsented to me, Mr Clennam, in a manner highly gratifying to myknow what it was.’great—ahem—information.’ All this time, though he had finishedhis supper, he was nervously going about his plate with‘Very much,’ said Arthur, withdrawing his eyes from the delicatehead beginning to droop and the pale face with a new his knife and fork, as if some of it were still before him. ‘It85

Charles Dickensappeared from his conversation that he had a garden, though he ‘Mr Clennam, Fanny. My eldest daughter and my son, Mrwas delicate of mentioning it at first, as gardens are—hem—are Clennam. The bell is a signal for visitors to retire, and so theynot accessible to me. But it came out, through my admiring a have come to say good night; but there is plenty of time, plentyvery fine cluster of geranium—beautiful cluster of geranium to of time. Girls, Mr Clennam will excuse any household businessyou may have together. He knows, I dare say, that I havebe sure—which he had brought from his conservatory. On mytaking notice of its rich colour, he showed me a piece of paper but one room here.’round it, on which was written, “For the Father of the ‘I only want my clean dress from Amy, father,’ said the secondgirl.Marshalsea,” and presented it to me. But this was—hem—notall. He made a particular request, on taking leave, that I would ‘And I my clothes,’ said Tip.remove the paper in half an hour. I—ha—I did so; and I found Amy opened a drawer in an old piece of furniture that was athat it contained—ahem—two guineas. I assure you, Mr chest of drawers above and a bedstead below, and producedClennam, I have received—hem—Testimonials in many ways, two little bundles, which she handed to her brother and sister.and of many degrees of value, and they have always been— ‘Mended and made up?’ Clennam heard the sister ask in aha—unfortunately acceptable; but I never was more pleased whisper. To which Amy answered ‘Yes.’ He had risen now,than with this—ahem—this particular Testimonial.’ Arthur was and took the opportunity of glancing round the room. The barein the act of saying the little he could say on such a theme, when walls had been coloured green, evidently by an unskilled hand,a bell began to ring, and footsteps approached the door. A pretty and were poorly decorated with a few prints. The windowgirl of a far better figure and much more developed than Little was curtained, and the floor carpeted; and there were shelvesDorrit, though looking much younger in the face when the two and pegs, and other such conveniences, that had accumulatedwere observed together, stopped in the doorway on seeing a in the course of years. It was a close, confined room, poorlystranger; and a young man who was with her, stopped too. furnished; and the chimney smoked to boot, or the tin screen86

Little Dorrit – Book Oneat the top of the fireplace was superfluous; but constant pains He saw no Little Dorrit on his way down, or in the yard. Theand care had made it neat, and even, after its kind, comfortable.All the while the bell was ringing, and the uncle was anx-was following, when he caught sight of her in the doorway oflast two or three stragglers were hurrying to the lodge, and heious to go. ‘Come, Fanny, come, Fanny,’ he said, with his the first house from the entrance. He turned back hastily.ragged clarionet case under his arm; ‘the lock, child, the lock!’ ‘Pray forgive me,’ he said, ‘for speaking to you here; prayFanny bade her father good night, and whisked off airily. Tip forgive me for coming here at all! I followed you to-night. I didhad already clattered down-stairs. ‘Now, Mr Clennam,’ said so, that I might endeavour to render you and your family somethe uncle, looking back as he shuffled out after them, ‘the lock, service. You know the terms on which I and my mother are,sir, the lock.’and may not be surprised that I have preserved our distantMr Clennam had two things to do before he followed; one, relations at her house, lest I should unintentionally make herto offer his testimonial to the Father of the Marshalsea, withoutgiving pain to his child; the other to say something to that What I have seen here, in this short time, has greatly increasedjealous, or resentful, or do you any injury in her estimation.child, though it were but a word, in explanation of his having my heartfelt wish to be a friend to you. It would recompensecome there.me for much disappointment if I could hope to gain your confidence.’‘Allow me,’ said the Father, ‘to see you down-stairs.’She had slipped out after the rest, and they were alone. ‘Not She was scared at first, but seemed to take courage whileon any account,’ said the visitor, hurriedly. ‘Pray allow me he spoke to her.to—’ chink, chink, chink.‘You are very good, sir. You speak very earnestly to me.‘Mr Clennam,’ said the Father, ‘I am deeply, deeply—’ But But I—but I wish you had not watched me.’his visitor had shut up his hand to stop the clinking, and had He understood the emotion with which she said it, to arise ingone down-stairs with great speed.her father’s behalf; and he respected it, and was silent.87

Charles Dickens‘Mrs Clennam has been of great service to me; I don’t know But he remained too late. The inner gate was locked, andwhat we should have done without the employment she has the lodge closed. After a little fruitless knocking with his hand,given me; I am afraid it may not be a good return to become he was standing there with the disagreeable conviction uponsecret with her; I can say no more to-night, sir. I am sure you him that he had got to get through the night, when a voicemean to be kind to us. Thank you, thank you.’ ‘Let me ask accosted him from behind.you one question before I leave. Have you known my mother ‘Caught, eh?’ said the voice. ‘You won’t go home till morning.Oh! It’s you, is it, Mr Clennam?’long?’‘I think two years, sir,—The bell has stopped.’The voice was Tip’s; and they stood looking at one another‘How did you know her first? Did she send here for you?’ in the prison-yard, as it began to rain.‘No. She does not even know that I live here. We have afriend, father and I—a poor labouring man, but the best of ‘YOU’VE DONE IT,’ observed Tip; ‘you must be sharper thanfriends—and I wrote out that I wished to do needlework, and that next time.’gave his address. And he got what I wrote out displayed at a ‘But you are locked in too,’ said Arthur.few places where it cost nothing, and Mrs Clennam found me ‘I believe I am!’ said Tip, sarcastically. ‘About! But not inthat way, and sent for me. The gate will be locked, sir!’ your way. I belong to the shop, only my sister has a theory thatShe was so tremulous and agitated, and he was so moved our governor must never know it. I don’t see why, myself.’by compassion for her, and by deep interest in her story as it ‘Can I get any shelter?’ asked Arthur. ‘What had I better do?’dawned upon him, that he could scarcely tear himself away. ‘We had better get hold of Amy first of all,’ said Tip, referringany difficulty to her as a matter of course.But the stoppage of the bell, and the quiet in the prison, werea warning to depart; and with a few hurried words of kindness ‘I would rather walk about all night—it’s not much to do—he left her gliding back to her father.than give that trouble.’88

Little Dorrit – Book One‘You needn’t do that, if you don’t mind paying for a bed. If it was held, was the Snuggery in question; the presidential tribuneof the chairman, the pewter-pots, glasses, pipes, tobacco-you don’t mind paying, they’ll make you up one on the Snuggerytable, under the circumstances. If you’ll come along, I’ll introduceyou there.’vivial institution had left them on its adjournment. The Snuggeryashes, and general flavour of members, were still as that con-As they passed down the yard, Arthur looked up at the had two of the qualities popularly held to be essential to grogwindow of the room he had lately left, where the light was still for ladies, in respect that it was hot and strong; but in the thirdburning. ‘Yes, sir,’ said Tip, following his glance. ‘That’s the point of analogy, requiring plenty of it, the Snuggery was defective;being but a cooped-up apartment.governor’s. She’ll sit with him for another hour readingyesterday’s paper to him, or something of that sort; and then The unaccustomed visitor from outside, naturally assumedshe’ll come out like a little ghost, and vanish away without a everybody here to be prisoners—landlord, waiter, barmaid,sound.’potboy, and all. Whether they were or not, did not appear; but‘I don’t understand you.’they all had a weedy look. The keeper of a chandler’s shop in‘The governor sleeps up in the room, and she has a lodging a front parlour, who took in gentlemen boarders, lent his assistancein making the bed. He had been a tailor in his time,at the turnkey’s. First house there,’ said Tip, pointing out thedoorway into which she had retired. ‘First house, sky parlour. and had kept a phaeton, he said. He boasted that he stood upShe pays twice as much for it as she would for one twice as litigiously for the interests of the college; and he had undefinedgood outside. But she stands by the governor, poor dear girl, and undefinable ideas that the marshal intercepted a ‘Fund,’day and night.’which ought to come to the collegians. He liked to believe this,This brought them to the tavern-establishment at the upper and always impressed the shadowy grievance on new-comersend of the prison, where the collegians had just vacated their and strangers; though he could not, for his life, have explainedsocial evening club. The apartment on the ground-floor in which what Fund he meant, or how the notion had got rooted in his89

Charles Dickenssoul. He had fully convinced himself, notwithstanding, that his The two tables put together in a corner, were, at length,own proper share of the Fund was three and ninepence a week; converted into a very fair bed; and the stranger was left to theand that in this amount he, as an individual collegian, was Windsor chairs, the presidential tribune, the beery atmosphere,swindled by the marshal, regularly every Monday. Apparently, sawdust, pipe-lights, spittoons and repose. But the last itemhe helped to make the bed, that he might not lose an opportunityof stating this case; after which unloading of his mind, and the place, the coming upon it without preparation, the sense ofwas long, long, long, in linking itself to the rest. The novelty ofafter announcing (as it seemed he always did, without anything being locked up, the remembrance of that room up-stairs, ofcoming of it) that he was going to write a letter to the papers the two brothers, and above all of the retiring childish form,and show the marshal up, he fell into miscellaneous conversationwith the rest. It was evident from the general tone of the not of want, kept him waking and unhappy.and the face in which he now saw years of insufficient food, ifwhole party, that they had come to regard insolvency as the Speculations, too, bearing the strangest relations towardsnormal state of mankind, and the payment of debts as a diseasethat occasionally broke out. In this strange scene, and mares through his mind while he lay awake. Whether coffinsthe prison, but always concerning the prison, ran like night-with these strange spectres flitting about him, Arthur Clennam were kept ready for people who might die there, where theylooked on at the preparations as if they were part of a dream. were kept, how they were kept, where people who died in thePending which, the long-initiated Tip, with an awful enjoyment prison were buried, how they were taken out, what forms wereof the Snuggery’s resources, pointed out the common kitchen observed, whether an implacable creditor could arrest thefire maintained by subscription of collegians, the boiler for hot dead? As to escaping, what chances there were of escape?water supported in like manner, and other premises generally Whether a prisoner could scale the walls with a cord andtending to the deduction that the way to be healthy, wealthy, grapple, how he would descend upon the other side? whetherand wise, was to come to the Marshalsea.he could alight on a housetop, steal down a staircase, let him-90

Little Dorrit – Book Oneself out at a door, and get lost in the crowd? As to Fire in the in her wheeled chair, warding him off with this justification.prison, if one were to break out while he lay there?When he awoke, and sprang up causelessly frightened, theAnd these involuntary starts of fancy were, after all, but the words were in his ears, as if her voice had slowly spoken themsetting of a picture in which three people kept before him. His at his pillow, to break his rest: ‘He withers away in his prison;father, with the steadfast look with which he had died, propheticallydarkened forth in the portrait; his mother, with her owe on this score!’I wither away in mine; inexorable justice is done; what do Iarm up, warding off his suspicion; Little Dorrit, with her handon the degraded arm, and her drooping head turned away.CHAPTER 9 Little MotherWhat if his mother had an old reason she well knew forsoftening to this poor girl! What if the prisoner now sleepingTHE MORNING LIGHT was in no hurry to climb the prison wallquietly—Heaven grant it!—by the light of the great Day ofand look in at the Snuggery windows; and when it did come, itjudgment should trace back his fall to her. What if any act ofwould have been more welcome if it had come alone, insteadhers and of his father’s, should have even remotely broughtof bringing a rush of rain with it. But the equinoctial gales werethe grey heads of those two brothers so low!blowing out at sea, and the impartial south-west wind, in itsA swift thought shot into his mind. In that long imprisonmentflight, would not neglect even the narrow Marshalsea. While ithere, and in her own long confinement to her room, did hisroared through the steeple of St George’s Church, and twirledmother find a balance to be struck? ‘I admit that I was accessoryto that man’s captivity. I have suffered for it in kind. Heall the cowls in the neighbourhood, it made a swoop to beatthe Southwark smoke into the jail; and, plunging down thehas decayed in his prison: I in mine. I have paid the penalty.’chimneys of the few early collegians who were yet lighting theirWhen all the other thoughts had faded out, this one heldfires, half suffocated them. Arthur Clennam would have beenpossession of him. When he fell asleep, she came before himlittle disposed to linger in bed, though his bed had been in a91

Charles Dickensmore private situation, and less affected by the raking out of from both; but he saw nothing of her. It was too early for heryesterday’s fire, the kindling of to-day’s under the collegiate brother; to have seen him once, was to have seen enough ofboiler, the filling of that Spartan vessel at the pump, the sweeping him to know that he would be sluggish to leave whatever frowsyand sawdusting of the common room, and other such preparations.Heartily glad to see the morning, though little rested by and down, waiting for the gate to open, he cast about in hisbed he occupied at night; so, as Arthur Clennam walked upthe night, he turned out as soon as he could distinguish objects mind for future rather than for present means of pursuing hisabout him, and paced the yard for two heavy hours before the discoveries.gate was opened.At last the lodge-gate turned, and the turnkey, standing onThe walls were so near to one another, and the wild clouds the step, taking an early comb at his hair, was ready to let himhurried over them so fast, that it gave him a sensation like the out. With a joyful sense of release he passed through the lodge,beginning of sea-sickness to look up at the gusty sky. The rain, and found himself again in the little outer court-yard where hecarried aslant by flaws of wind, blackened that side of the had spoken to the brother last night.central building which he had visited last night, but left a narrowdry trough under the lee of the wall, where he walked up was not difficult to identify as the nondescript messengers, go-There was a string of people already straggling in, whom itand down among the waits of straw and dust and paper, the betweens, and errand-bearers of the place. Some of them hadwaste droppings of the pump, and the stray leaves of been lounging in the rain until the gate should open; others,yesterday’s greens. It was as haggard a view of life as a man who had timed their arrival with greater nicety, were comingneed look upon.up now, and passing in with damp whitey-brown paper bagsNor was it relieved by any glimpse of the little creature who from the grocers, loaves of bread, lumps of butter, eggs, milk,had brought him there. Perhaps she glided out of her doorway and the like. The shabbiness of these attendants upon shabbiness,the poverty of these insolvent waiters upon and in at that where her father lived, while his face was turnedinsolvency,92

Little Dorrit – Book Onewas a sight to see. Such threadbare coats and trousers, such As these people passed him standing still in the court-yard,fusty gowns and shawls, such squashed hats and bonnets, such and one of them turned back to inquire if he could assist himboots and shoes, such umbrellas and walking-sticks, never with his services, it came into Arthur Clennam’s mind that hewere seen in Rag Fair. All of them wore the cast-off clothes of would speak to Little Dorrit again before he went away. Sheother men and women, were made up of patches and pieces would have recovered her first surprise, and might feel easierof other people’s individuality, and had no sartorial existence with him. He asked this member of the fraternity (who hadof their own proper. Their walk was the walk of a race apart. two red herrings in his hand, and a loaf and a blacking brushThey had a peculiar way of doggedly slinking round the corner,as if they were eternally going to the pawnbroker’s. When coffee at. The nondescript replied in encouraging terms, andunder his arm), where was the nearest place to get a cup ofthey coughed, they coughed like people accustomed to be brought him to a coffee-shop in the street within a stone’s throw.forgotten on doorsteps and in draughty passages, waiting for ‘Do you know Miss Dorrit?’ asked the new client.answers to letters in faded ink, which gave the recipients of The nondescript knew two Miss Dorrits; one who was bornthose manuscripts great mental disturbance and no satisfaction.As they eyed the stranger in passing, they eyed him with had known her many years. In regard of the other Miss Dorrit,inside—That was the one! That was the one? The nondescriptborrowing eyes—hungry, sharp, speculative as to his softness the nondescript lodged in the same house with herself and uncle.if they were accredited to him, and the likelihood of his standingsomething handsome. Mendicity on commission stooped the coffee-shop until the nondescript should bring him wordThis changed the client’s half-formed design of remaining atin their high shoulders, shambled in their unsteady legs, buttonedand pinned and darned and dragged their clothes, frayed nondescript with a confidential message to her, importing thatthat Dorrit had issued forth into the street. He entrusted thetheir button-holes, leaked out of their figures in dirty little ends the visitor who had waited on her father last night, begged theof tape, and issued from their mouths in alcoholic breathings. favour of a few words with her at her uncle’s lodging; he ob-93

Charles Dickenstained from the same source full directions to the house, which Dick,’ in combination, suggested intentions of personality onwas very near; dismissed the nondescript gratified with half-acrown;and having hastily refreshed himself at the coffee-shop, make these observations before the door was opened by thethe part Of Mr Cripples’s pupils. There was ample time torepaired with all speed to the clarionet-player’s dwelling. poor old man himself.There were so many lodgers in this house that the doorpost ‘Ha!’ said he, very slowly remembering Arthur, ‘you wereseemed to be as full of bell-handles as a cathedral organ is of shut in last night?’stops. Doubtful which might be the clarionet-stop, he was consideringthe point, when a shuttlecock flew out of the parlour ‘Oh!’ said he, pondering. ‘Out of my brother’s way? True.‘Yes, Mr Dorrit. I hope to meet your niece here presently.’window, and alighted on his hat. He then observed that in the Would you come up-stairs and wait for her?’parlour window was a blind with the inscription, Mr. Cripples’ ‘Thank you.’Academy; also in another line, Evening Tuition; and behind Turning himself as slowly as he turned in his mind whateverthe blind was a little white-faced boy, with a slice of breadand-butterand a battledore.house was very close, and had an unwholesome smell. Thehe heard or said, he led the way up the narrow stairs. TheThe window being accessible from the footway, he looked little staircase windows looked in at the back windows of otherin over the blind, returned the shuttlecock, and put his question.out of them, on which unsightly linen hung; as if the inhabitantshouses as unwholesome as itself, with poles and lines thrust‘Dorrit?’ said the little white-faced boy (Master Cripples in were angling for clothes, and had had some wretched bitesfact). ‘Mr Dorrit? Third bell and one knock.’ The pupils of Mr not worth attending to. In the back garret—a sickly room,Cripples appeared to have been making a copy-book of the with a turn-up bedstead in it, so hastily and recently turned upstreet-door, it was so extensively scribbled over in pencil. that the blankets were boiling over, as it were, and keeping theThe frequency of the inscriptions, ‘Old Dorrit,’ and ‘Dirty lid open—a half-finished breakfast of coffee and toast for two94

Little Dorrit – Book Onepersons was jumbled down anyhow on a rickety table. the chimney-piece), put it back again, took down the snuffThere was no one there. The old man mumbling to himself, instead, and solaced himself with a pinch. He was as feeble,after some consideration, that Fanny had run away, went to spare, and slow in his pinches as in everything else, but a certainlittle trickling of enjoyment of them played in the poorthe next room to fetch her back. The visitor, observing thatshe held the door on the inside, and that, when the uncle tried worn nerves about the corners of his eyes and mouth.to open it, there was a sharp adjuration of ‘Don’t, stupid!’ and ‘Amy, Mr Clennam. What do you think of her?’an appearance of loose stocking and flannel, concluded that ‘I am much impressed, Mr Dorrit, by all that I have seen ofthe young lady was in an undress. The uncle, without appearingto come to any conclusion, shuffled in again, sat down in ‘My brother would have been quite lost without Amy,’ heher and thought of her.’his chair, and began warming his hands at the fire; not that it returned. ‘We should all have been lost without Amy. She is awas cold, or that he had any waking idea whether it was or very good girl, Amy. She does her duty.’not.Arthur fancied that he heard in these praises a certain tone‘What did you think of my brother, sir?’ he asked, when he of custom, which he had heard from the father last night withby-and-by discovered what he was doing, left off, reached an inward protest and feeling of antagonism. It was not thatover to the chimney-piece, and took his clarionet case down. they stinted her praises, or were insensible to what she did for‘I was glad,’ said Arthur, very much at a loss, for his thoughts them; but that they were lazily habituated to her, as they werewere on the brother before him; ‘to find him so well and cheerful.’‘Ha!’ muttered the old man, ‘yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!’ had before them, every day, the means of comparison be-to all the rest of their condition. He fancied that although theyArthur wondered what he could possibly want with the tween her and one another and themselves, they regarded herclarionet case. He did not want it at all. He discovered, in due as being in her necessary place; as holding a position towardstime, that it was not the little paper of snuff (which was also on them all which belonged to her, like her name or her age. He95

Charles Dickensfancied that they viewed her, not as having risen away from without detaining you here, and without intruding longer herethe prison atmosphere, but as appertaining to it; as being vaguely myself.’what they had a right to expect, and nothing more.She looked embarrassed, but said, if he pleased. He made aHer uncle resumed his breakfast, and was munching toast pretence of having mislaid his walking-stick, to give her timesopped in coffee, oblivious of his guest, when the third bell to set the bedstead right, to answer her sister’s impatient knockrang. That was Amy, he said, and went down to let her in; at the wall, and to say a word softly to her uncle. Then heleaving the visitor with as vivid a picture on his mind of his found it, and they went down-stairs; she first, he following; thebegrimed hands, dirt-worn face, and decayed figure, as if he uncle standing at the stair-head, and probably forgetting themwere still drooping in his chair.before they had reached the ground floor.She came up after him, in the usual plain dress, and with the Mr Cripples’s pupils, who were by this time coming to school,usual timid manner. Her lips were a little parted, as if her heart desisted from their morning recreation of cuffing one anotherbeat faster than usual.with bags and books, to stare with all the eyes they had at a‘Mr Clennam, Amy,’ said her uncle, ‘has been expecting stranger who had been to see Dirty Dick. They bore the tryingyou some time.’spectacle in silence, until the mysterious visitor was at a safe‘I took the liberty of sending you a message.’distance; when they burst into pebbles and yells, and likewise‘I received the message, sir.’into reviling dances, and in all respects buried the pipe of peace‘Are you going to my mother’s this morning? I think not, for with so many savage ceremonies, that, if Mr Cripples had beenit is past your usual hour.’ ‘Not to-day, sir. I am not wanted the chief of the Cripplewayboo tribe with his war-paint on, theyto-day.’could scarcely have done greater justice to their education.‘Will you allow Me to walk a little way in whatever direction In the midst of this homage, Mr Arthur Clennam offered hisyou may be going? I can then speak to you as we walk, both arm to Little Dorrit, and Little Dorrit took it. ‘Will you go by96

Little Dorrit – Book Onethe Iron Bridge,’ said he, ‘where there is an escape from the ‘OH YES!’ SHE SAID quickly; ‘she believed there were excellentnoise of the street?’ Little Dorrit answered, if he pleased, and beds at the coffee-house.’ He noticed that the coffee-housepresently ventured to hope that he would ‘not mind’ Mr was quite a majestic hotel to her, and that she treasured itsCripples’s boys, for she had herself received her education, reputation. ‘I believe it is very expensive,’ said Little Dorrit,such as it was, in Mr Cripples’s evening academy. He returned, ‘but my father has told me that quite beautiful dinners may bewith the best will in the world, that Mr Cripples’s boys were got there. And wine,’ she added timidly. ‘Were you ever there?’forgiven out of the bottom of his soul. Thus did Cripples unconsciouslybecome a master of the ceremonies between them, To think of growing up with a kind of awe upon one as to the‘Oh no! Only into the kitchen to fetch hot water.’and bring them more naturally together than Beau Nash might luxuries of that superb establishment, the Marshalsea Hotel!have done if they had lived in his golden days, and he had ‘I asked you last night,’ said Clennam, ‘how you had becomeacquainted with my mother. Did you ever hear her namealighted from his coach and six for the purpose.The morning remained squally, and the streets were miserablymuddy, but no rain fell as they walked towards the Iron ‘No, sir.’before she sent for you?’Bridge. The little creature seemed so young in his eyes, that ‘Do you think your father ever did?’there were moments when he found himself thinking of her, if ‘No, sir.’not speaking to her, as if she were a child. Perhaps he seemed He met her eyes raised to his with so much wonder in themas old in her eyes as she seemed young in his.(she was scared when the encounter took place, and shrunk‘I am sorry to hear you were so inconvenienced last night, away again), that he felt it necessary to say:sir, as to be locked in. It was very unfortunate.’‘I have a reason for asking, which I cannot very well explain;but you must, on no account, suppose it to be of a na-It was nothing, he returned. He had had a very good bed.ture to cause you the least alarm or anxiety. Quite the reverse.97

Charles DickensAnd you think that at no time of your father’s life was my name the slight figure at his side, making its nightly way through theof Clennam ever familiar to him?’damp dark boisterous streets to such a place of rest. ‘You‘No, sir.’spoke so feelingly to me last night, sir, and I found afterwardsHe felt, from the tone in which she spoke, that she was glancingup at him with those parted lips; therefore he looked be-resist your message, if it was only to thank you; especially as Ithat you had been so generous to my father, that I could notfore him, rather than make her heart beat quicker still by embarrassingher afresh.and tears rose in her eyes, but did not fall.wished very much to say to you—’ she hesitated and trembled,Thus they emerged upon the Iron Bridge, which was as quiet ‘To say to me—?’after the roaring streets as though it had been open country. ‘That I hope you will not misunderstand my father. Don’tThe wind blew roughly, the wet squalls came rattling past them, judge him, sir, as you would judge others outside the gates.skimming the pools on the road and pavement, and raining He has been there so long! I never saw him outside, but I canthem down into the river. The clouds raced on furiously in the understand that he must have grown different in some thingslead-Coloured sky, the smoke and mist raced after them, the since.’dark tide ran fierce and strong in the same direction. Little ‘My thoughts will never be unjust or harsh towards him,Dorrit seemed the least, the quietest, and weakest of Heaven’s believe me.’creatures.‘Not,’ she said, with a prouder air, as the misgiving evidentlycrept upon her that she might seem to be abandoning‘Let me put you in a coach,’ said Clennam, very nearly adding‘my poor child.’him, ‘not that he has anything to be ashamed of for himself, orShe hurriedly declined, saying that wet or dry made little that I have anything to be ashamed of for him. He only requiresto be understood. I only ask for him that his life may bedifference to her; she was used to go about in all weathers. Heknew it to be so, and was touched with more pity; thinking of fairly remembered. All that he said was quite true. It all hap-98

Little Dorrit – Book Onepened just as he related it. He is very much respected. Everybodywho comes in, is glad to know him. He is more courted many quiet, comfortable hours there; that I had an excellentwould be ungrateful indeed in me, to forget that I have hadthan anyone else. He is far more thought of than the Marshal friend there when I was quite a baby, who was very very fondis.’of me; that I have been taught there, and have worked there,If ever pride were innocent, it was innocent in Little Dorrit and have slept soundly there. I think it would be almost cowardlyand cruel not to have some little attachment for it, afterwhen she grew boastful of her father.‘It is often said that his manners are a true gentleman’s, and all this.’quite a study. I see none like them in that place, but he is admittedto be superior to all the rest. This is quite as much why estly said, raising her eyes appealingly to her new friend’s, ‘IShe had relieved the faithful fulness of her heart, and mod-they make him presents, as because they know him to be needy. did not mean to say so much, nor have I ever but once spokenHe is not to be blamed for being in need, poor love. Who about this before. But it seems to set it more right than it wascould be in prison a quarter of a century, and be prosperous!’ last night. I said I wished you had not followed me, sir. I don’tWhat affection in her words, what compassion in her repressedtears, what a great soul of fidelity within her, how true wish it at all, unless I should have spoken so confusedly, that—wish it so much now, unless you should think—indeed I don’tthe light that shed false brightness round him!that you can scarcely understand me, which I am afraid may‘If I have found it best to conceal where my home is, it is not be the case.’because I am ashamed of him. God forbid! Nor am I so much He told her with perfect truth that it was not the case; andashamed of the place itself as might be supposed. People are putting himself between her and the sharp wind and rain, shelteredher as well as he could.not bad because they come there. I have known numbers ofgood, persevering, honest people come there through misfortune.They are almost all kind-hearted to one another. And it cerning your father. Has he many‘I feel permitted now,’ he said, ‘to ask you a little more con-creditors?’99

Charles Dickens‘Oh! a great number.’She forgot to be shy at the moment, in honestly warning him‘I mean detaining creditors, who keep him where he is?’ away from the sunken wreck he had a dream of raising; and‘Oh yes! a great number.’looked at him with eyes which assuredly, in association with‘Can you tell me—I can get the information, no doubt, elsewhere,if you cannot—who is the most influential of them?’ wind and rain, did not turn him from his purpose of helpingher patient face, her fragile figure, her spare dress, and theLittle Dorrit said, after considering a little, that she used to her.hear long ago of Mr Tite Barnacle as a man of great power. He ‘Even if it could be done,’ said she—’and it never can bewas a commissioner, or a board, or a trustee, ‘or something.’ done now—where could father live, or how could he live? IHe lived in Grosvenor Square, she thought, or very near it. He have often thought that if such a change could come, it mightwas under Government—high in the Circumlocution Office. She be anything but a service to him now. People might not thinkappeared to have acquired, in her infancy, some awful impressionof the might of this formidable Mr Tite Barnacle of Grosvenor gently dealt with outside as he is there. He might not be so fitso well of him outside as they do there. He might not be soSquare, or very near it, and the Circumlocution Office, which himself for the life outside as he is for that.’ Here for the firstquite crushed her when she mentioned him.time she could not restrain her tears from falling; and the little‘It can do no harm,’ thought Arthur, ‘if I see this Mr Tite thin hands he had watched when they were so busy, trembledBarnacle.’as they clasped each other.The thought did not present itself so quietly but that her quicknessintercepted it. ‘Ah!’ said Little Dorrit, shaking her head a little money, and that Fanny earns a little money. He is so‘ It would be a new distress to him even to know that I earnwith the mild despair of a lifetime. ‘Many people used to think anxious about us, you see, feeling helplessly shut up there.once of getting my poor father out, but you don’t know how Such a good, good father!’hopeless it is.’He let the little burst of feeling go by before he spoke. It was100

Little Dorrit – Book Onesoon gone. She was not accustomed to think of herself, or to ‘There is one friend!’ he said, putting up his pocketbook.trouble any one with her emotions. He had but glanced away ‘As I take you back—you are going back?’at the piles of city roofs and chimneys among which the smoke ‘Oh yes! going straight home.’was rolling heavily, and at the wilderness of masts on the river, ‘As I take you back,’ the word home jarred upon him, ‘letand the wilderness of steeples on the shore, indistinctly mixed me ask you to persuade yourself that you have another friend.together in the stormy haze, when she was again as quiet as if I make no professions, and say no more.’she had been plying her needle in his mother’s room.‘You are truly kind to me, sir. I am sure I need no more.’‘You would be glad to have your brother set at liberty?’ They walked back through the miserable muddy streets, and‘Oh very, very glad, sir!’among the poor, mean shops, and were jostled by the crowds‘Well, we will hope for him at least. You told me last night of of dirty hucksters usual to a poor neighbourhood. There wasa friend you had?’nothing, by the short way, that was pleasant to any of the fiveHis name was Plornish, Little Dorrit said.senses. Yet it was not a common passage through commonAnd where did Plornish live? Plornish lived in Bleeding Heart rain, and mire, and noise, to Clennam, having this little, slender,careful creature on his arm. How young she seemed toYard. He was ‘only a plasterer,’ Little Dorrit said, as a cautionto him not to form high social expectations of Plornish. He him, or how old he to her; or what a secret either to the other,lived at the last house in Bleeding Heart Yard, and his name in that beginning of the destined interweaving of their stories,was over a little gateway. Arthur took down the address and matters not here. He thought of her having been born and bredgave her his. He had now done all he sought to do for the among these scenes, and shrinking through them now, familiarpresent, except that he wished to leave her with a reliance yet misplaced; he thought of her long acquaintance with theupon him, and to have something like a promise from her that squalid needs of life, and of her innocence; of her solicitude forshe would cherish it.others, and her few years, and her childish aspect.101

Charles DickensThey were come into the High Street, where the prison stood, tolerably serviceable eye. Her face was not exceedingly ugly,when a voice cried, ‘Little mother, little mother!’ Little Dorrit though it was only redeemed from being so by a smile; a goodhumouredsmile, and pleasant in itself, but rendered pitiable bystopping and looking back, an excited figure of a strange kindbounced against them (still crying ‘little mother’), fell down, being constantly there. A great white cap, with a quantity ofand scattered the contents of a large basket, filled with potatoes,in the mud.Maggy’s baldness, and made it so very difficult for her oldopaque frilling that was always flapping about, apologised for‘Oh, Maggy,’ said Little Dorrit, ‘what a clumsy child you black bonnet to retain its place upon her head, that it held onare!’round her neck like a gipsy’s baby. A commission of haberdasherscould alone have reported what the rest of her poorMaggy was not hurt, but picked herself up immediately, andthen began to pick up the potatoes, in which both Little Dorrit dress was made of, but it had a strong general resemblance toand Arthur Clennam helped. Maggy picked up very few potatoesand a great quantity of mud; but they were all recovered, looked particularly like a tea-leaf after long infusion.seaweed, with here and there a gigantic tea-leaf. Her shawland deposited in the basket. Maggy then smeared her muddy Arthur Clennam looked at Little Dorrit with the expressionface with her shawl, and presenting it to Mr Clennam as a type of one saying, ‘May I ask who this is?’ Little Dorrit, whoseof purity, enabled him to see what she was like.hand this Maggy, still calling her little mother, had begun toShe was about eight-and-twenty, with large bones , large fondle, answered in words (they were under a gateway intofeatures, large feet and hands, large eyes and no hair. Her large which the majority of the potatoes had rolled).eyes were limpid and almost colourless; they seemed to be ‘This is Maggy, sir.’very little affected by light, and to stand unnaturally still. There ‘Maggy, sir,’ echoed the personage presented. ‘Littlewas also that attentive listening expression in her face, which is mother!’seen in the faces of the blind; but she was not blind, having one ‘She is the grand-daughter—’ said Little Dorrit.102

Little Dorrit – Book One‘Grand-daughter,’ echoed Maggy.kind to her as she should have been; was she, Maggy?’ Maggy‘Of my old nurse, who has been dead a long time. Maggy, shook her head, made a drinking vessel of her clenched lefthow old are you?’hand, drank out of it, and said, ‘Gin.’ Then beat an imaginary‘Ten, mother,’ said Maggy.child, and said, ‘Broom-handles and pokers.’‘You can’t think how good she is, sir,’ said Little Dorrit, ‘When Maggy was ten years old,’ said Little Dorrit, watchingher face while she spoke, ‘she had a bad fever, sir, and shewith infinite tenderness.‘Good she is,’ echoed Maggy, transferring the pronoun in a has never grown any older ever since.’most expressive way from herself to her little mother.‘Ten years old,’ said Maggy, nodding her head. ‘But what a‘Or how clever,’ said Little Dorrit. ‘She goes on errands as nice hospital! So comfortable, wasn’t it? Oh so nice it was.well as any one.’ Maggy laughed. ‘And is as trustworthy as Such a Ev’nly place!’the Bank of England.’ Maggy laughed. ‘She earns her own ‘She had never been at peace before, sir,’ said Little Dorrit,living entirely. Entirely, sir!’ said Little Dorrit, in a lower and turning towards Arthur for an instant and speaking low, ‘andtriumphant tone.she always runs off upon that.’‘Really does!’‘Such beds there is there!’ cried Maggy. ‘Such lemonades!‘What is her history?’ asked Clennam.Such oranges! Such d’licious broth and wine! Such Chicking!‘Think of that, Maggy?’ said Little Dorrit, taking her two Oh, ain’t it a delightful place to go and stop at!’large hands and clapping them together. ‘A gentleman from ‘So Maggy stopped there as long as she could,’ said Littlethousands of miles away, wanting to know your history!’ Dorrit, in her former tone of telling a child’s story; the tone‘My history?’ cried Maggy. ‘Little mother.’designed for Maggy’s ear, ‘and at last, when she could stop‘She means me,’ said Little Dorrit, rather confused; ‘she is there no longer, she came out. Then, because she was neververy much attached to me. Her old grandmother was not so to be more than ten years old, however long she lived—’103

Charles Dickens‘However long she lived,’ echoed Maggy.the common hole it really was, when he looked back to it by‘And because she was very weak; indeed was so weak that these lights. Never, never!when she began to laugh she couldn’t stop herself—which was They were very near the end of their walk, and they nowa great pity—’came out of the gateway to finish it. Nothing would serve Maggy(Maggy mighty grave of a sudden.)but that they must stop at a grocer’s window, short of their‘Her grandmother did not know what to do with her, and destination, for her to show her learning. She could read afterfor some years was very unkind to her indeed. At length, in a sort; and picked out the fat figures in the tickets of prices, forcourse of time, Maggy began to take pains to improve herself, the most part correctly. She also stumbled, with a large balanceof success against her failures, through various philan-and to be very attentive and very industrious; and by degreeswas allowed to come in and out as often as she liked, and got thropic recommendations to Try our Mixture, Try our Familyenough to do to support herself, and does support herself. Black, Try our Orange-flavoured Pekoe, challenging competitionat the head of Flowery Teas; and various cautions to theAnd that,’ said Little Dorrit, clapping the two great hands togetheragain, ‘is Maggy’s history, as Maggy knows!’ public against spurious establishments and adulterated articles.Ah! But Arthur would have known what was wanting to its When he saw how pleasure brought a rosy tint into Littlecompleteness, though he had never heard of the words Little Dorrit’s face when Maggy made a hit, he felt that he couldmother; though he had never seen the fondling of the small have stood there making a library of the grocer’s window untilspare hand; though he had had no sight for the tears now standingin the colourless eyes; though he had had no hearing for the The court-yard received them at last, and there he saidthe rain and wind were tired.sob that checked the clumsy laugh. The dirty gateway with the goodbye to Little Dorrit. Little as she had always looked, shewind and rain whistling through it, and the basket of muddy looked less than ever when he saw her going into thepotatoes waiting to be spilt again or taken up, never seemed Marshalsea lodge passage, the little mother attended by her104

Little Dorrit – Book Onebig child. The cage door opened, and when the small bird, This glorious establishment had been early in the field, whenreared in captivity, had tamely fluttered in, he saw it shut again; the one sublime principle involving the difficult art of governingand then he came away.a country, was first distinctly revealed to statesmen. It had beenforemost to study that bright revelation and to carry its shininginfluence through the whole of the official proceedings. Whateverwas required to be done, the Circumlocution Office wasCHAPTER 10 Containing the wholeScience of Governmentbeforehand with all the public departments in the art of perceiving—hownot to do it.THE CIRCUMLOCUTION OFFICE was (as everybody knows withoutbeing told) the most important Department under Govern-Through this delicate perception, through the tact with whichit invariably seized it, and through the genius with which it alwaysacted on it, the Circumlocution Office had risen to overment.No public business of any kind could possibly be doneat any time without the acquiescence of the Circumlocutiontop all the public departments; and the public condition hadOffice. Its finger was in the largest public pie, and in the smallestpublic tart. It was equally impossible to do the plainestrisen to be—what it was.It is true that How not to do it was the great study and objectof all public departments and professional politicians allright and to undo the plainest wrong without the express authorityof the Circumlocution Office. If another Gunpowderround the Circumlocution Office. It is true that every new premierand every new government, coming in because they hadPlot had been discovered half an hour before the lighting of thematch, nobody would have been justified in saving the parliamentuntil there had been half a score of boards, half a bushelupheld a certain thing as necessary to be done, were no soonercome in than they applied their utmost faculties to discoveringof minutes, several sacks of official memoranda, and a familyvaultfull of ungrammatical correspondence, on the part of theHow not to do it. It is true that from the moment when a generalelection was over, every returned man who had been rav-Circumlocution Office.105

Charles Dickensing on hustings because it hadn’t been done, and who had manship, How not to do it, in motion. Because the CircumlocutionOffice was down upon any ill-advised public servantbeen asking the friends of the honourable gentleman in theopposite interest on pain of impeachment to tell him why it who was going to do it, or who appeared to be by any surprisingaccident in remote danger of doing it, with a minute,hadn’t been done, and who had been asserting that it must bedone, and who had been pledging himself that it should be and a memorandum, and a letter of instructions that extinguisheddone, began to devise, How it was not to be done. It is true him. It was this spirit of national efficiency in the CircumlocutionOffice that had gradually led to its having something to dothat the debates of both Houses of Parliament the whole sessionthrough, uniformly tended to the protracted deliberation, with everything. Mechanicians, natural philosophers, soldiers,How not to do it. It is true that the royal speech at the opening sailors, petitioners, memorialists, people with grievances,of such session virtually said, My lords and gentlemen, you people who wanted to prevent grievances, people who wantedhave a considerable stroke of work to do, and you will please to redress grievances, jobbing people, jobbed people, peopleto retire to your respective chambers, and discuss, How not who couldn’t get rewarded for merit, and people who couldn’tto do it. It is true that the royal speech, at the close of such get punished for demerit, were all indiscriminately tucked upsession, virtually said, My lords and gentlemen, you have under the foolscap paper of the Circumlocution Office.through several laborious months been considering with great Numbers of people were lost in the Circumlocution Office.loyalty and patriotism, How not to do it, and you have found Unfortunates with wrongs, or with projects for the generalout; and with the blessing of Providence upon the harvest (natural,not political), I now dismiss you. All this is true, but the have taken that bitter English recipe for certainly getting them),welfare (and they had better have had wrongs at first, thanCircumlocution Office went beyond it.who in slow lapse of time and agony had passed safely throughBecause the Circumlocution Office went on mechanically, other public departments; who, according to rule, had beenevery day, keeping this wonderful, all-sufficient wheel of states-bullied in this, over-reached by that, and evaded by the other;106

Little Dorrit – Book Onegot referred at last to the Circumlocution Office, and never man that, although the Circumlocution Office was invariablyreappeared in the light of day. Boards sat upon them, secretariesminuted upon them, commissioners gabbled about them, Then would he be there to tell that honourable gentleman thatright and wholly right, it never was so right as in this matter.clerks registered, entered, checked, and ticked them off, and it would have been more to his honour, more to his credit,they melted away. In short, all the business of the country went more to his good taste, more to his good sense, more to halfthrough the Circumlocution Office, except the business that the dictionary of commonplaces, if he had left the CircumlocutionOffice alone, and never approached this matter. Thennever came out of it; and its name was Legion.Sometimes, angry spirits attacked the Circumlocution Office.Sometimes, parliamentary questions were asked about it, Circumlocution Office sitting below the bar, and smash thewould he keep one eye upon a coach or crammer from theand even parliamentary motions made or threatened about it honourable gentleman with the Circumlocution Office accountby demagogues so low and ignorant as to hold that the real of this matter. And although one of two things always happened;namely, either that the Circumlocution Office had nothingrecipe of government was, How to do it. Then would the noblelord, or right honourable gentleman, in whose department it to say and said it, or that it had something to say of which thewas to defend the Circumlocution Office, put an orange in his noble lord, or right honourable gentleman, blundered one halfpocket, and make a regular field-day of the occasion. Then and forgot the other; the Circumlocution Office was alwayswould he come down to that house with a slap upon the table, voted immaculate by an accommodating majority.and meet the honourable gentleman foot to foot. Then would Such a nursery of statesmen had the Department become inhe be there to tell that honourable gentleman that the CircumlocutionOffice not only was blameless in this matter, but was had attained the reputation of being quite unearthly prodigiesvirtue of a long career of this nature, that several solemn lordscommendable in this matter, was extollable to the skies in this of business, solely from having practised, How not to do it, asmatter. Then would he be there to tell that honourable gentle-the head of the Circumlocution Office. As to the minor priests107

Charles Dickensand acolytes of that temple, the result of all this was that they bond making a tilt at him in a newspaper, was more flush ofstood divided into two classes, and, down to the junior messenger,either believed in the Circumlocution Office as a heaven-snug thing enough; and as a Barnacle he had of course put in hisblood than money. As a Barnacle he had his place, which was aborn institution that had an absolute right to do whatever it son Barnacle Junior in the office. But he had intermarried with aliked; or took refuge in total infidelity, and considered it a flagrantnuisance.sanguineous point of view than with real or personal property,branch of the Stiltstalkings, who were also better endowed in aThe Barnacle family had for some time helped to administer and of this marriage there had been issue, Barnacle junior andthe Circumlocution Office. The Tite Barnacle Branch, indeed, three young ladies. What with the patrician requirements of Barnaclejunior, the three young ladies, Mrs Tite Barnacle neeconsidered themselves in a general way as having vested rightsin that direction, and took it ill if any other family had much to Stiltstalking, and himself, Mr Tite Barnacle found the intervalssay to it. The Barnacles were a very high family, and a very between quarter day and quarter day rather longer than he couldlarge family. They were dispersed all over the public offices, have desired; a circumstance which he always attributed to theand held all sorts of public places. Either the nation was under country’s parsimony. For Mr Tite Barnacle, Mr Arthur Clennama load of obligation to the Barnacles, or the Barnacles were made his fifth inquiry one day at the Circumlocution Office; havingon previous occasions awaited that gentleman successivelyunder a load of obligation to the nation. It was not quite unanimouslysettled which; the Barnacles having their opinion, the in a hall, a glass case, a waiting room, and a fire-proof passagenation theirs.where the Department seemed to keep its wind. On this occasionMr Barnacle was not engaged, as he had been before, withThe Mr Tite Barnacle who at the period now in question usuallycoached or crammed the statesman at the head of the CircumlocutionOffice, when that noble or right honourable indisent.Barnacle Junior, however, was announced as a lesser star,the noble prodigy at the head of the Department; but was abvidualsat a little uneasily in his saddle by reason of some vaga-yet visible above the office horizon.108

Little Dorrit – Book OneWith Barnacle junior, he signified his desire to confer; and against his waistcoat buttons with a click that discomposedfound that young gentleman singeing the calves of his legs at him very much.the parental fire, and supporting his spine against the mantelshelf.It was a comfortable room, handsomely furnished in the be in the way to-day,’ said Barnacle Junior. ‘Is this anything‘Oh, I say. Look here! My father’s not in the way, and won’thigher official manner; an presenting stately suggestions of the that I can do?’absent Barnacle, in the thick carpet, the leather-covered desk (Click! Eye-glass down. Barnacle Junior quite frightened andto sit at, the leather-covered desk to stand at, the formidable feeling all round himself, but not able to find it.)easy-chair and hearth-rug, the interposed screen, the torn-up ‘You are very good,’ said Arthur Clennam. ‘I wish howeverpapers, the dispatch-boxes with little labels sticking out of them, to see Mr Barnacle.’like medicine bottles or dead game, the pervading smell of ‘But I say. Look here! You haven’t got any appointment,leather and mahogany, and a general bamboozling air of How you know,’ said Barnacle Junior.not to do it.(By this time he had found the eye-glass, and put it up again.)The present Barnacle, holding Mr Clennam’s card in his hand, ‘No,’ said Arthur Clennam. ‘That is what I wish to have.’had a youthful aspect, and the fluffiest little whisker, perhaps, ‘But I say. Look here! Is this public business?’ asked Barnaclejunior.that ever was seen. Such a downy tip was on his callow chin,that he seemed half fledged like a young bird; and a compassionateobserver might have urged that, if he had not singed of search after it that Mr Clennam felt it useless to reply at(Click! Eye-glass down again. Barnacle Junior in that statethe calves of his legs, he would have died of cold. He had a present.)superior eye-glass dangling round his neck, but unfortunately ‘Is it,’ said Barnacle junior, taking heed of his visitor’s brownhad such flat orbits to his eyes and such limp little eyelids that face, ‘anything about—Tonnage—or that sort of thing?’it wouldn’t stick in when he put it up, but kept tumbling out (Pausing for a reply, he opened his right eye with his hand,109

Charles Dickensand stuck his glass in it, in that inflammatory manner that his taken place if it had been anything about tonnage, Mr Clennameye began watering dreadfully.)withdrew to pursue his inquiries.‘No,’ said Arthur, ‘it is nothing about tonnage.’Mews Street, Grosvenor Square, was not absolutely‘Then look here. Is it private business?’Grosvenor Square itself, but it was very near it. It was a hideouslittle street of dead wall, stables, and dunghills, with lofts‘I really am not sure. It relates to a Mr Dorrit.’‘Look here, I tell you what! You had better call at our house, over coach-houses inhabited by coachmen’s families, who hadif you are going that way. Twenty-four, Mews Street, Grosvenor a passion for drying clothes and decorating their window-sillsSquare. My father’s got a slight touch of the gout, and is kept with miniature turnpike-gates. The principal chimney-sweepat home by it.’of that fashionable quarter lived at the blind end of Mews Street;(The misguided young Barnacle evidently going blind on his and the same corner contained an establishment much frequentedabout early morning and twilight for the purchase ofeye-glass side, but ashamed to make any further alteration inhis painful arrangements.)wine-bottles and kitchen-stuff. Punch’s shows used to lean‘Thank you. I will call there now. Good morning.’ Young against the dead wall in Mews Street, while their proprietorsBarnacle seemed discomfited at this, as not having at all expectedhim to go.made appointments to meet in the same locality. Yet there werewere dining elsewhere; and the dogs of the neighbourhood‘You are quite sure,’ said Barnacle junior, calling after him two or three small airless houses at the entrance end of Mewswhen he got to the door, unwilling wholly to relinquish the bright Street, which went at enormous rents on account of their beingabject hangers-on to a fashionable situation; and wheneverbusiness idea he had conceived; ‘that it’s nothing about Tonnage?’one of these fearful little coops was to be let (which seldom‘Quite sure.’happened, for they were in great request), the house agentWith such assurance, and rather wondering what might have advertised it as a gentlemanly residence in the most aristo-110

Little Dorrit – Book Onecratic part of town, inhabited solely by the elite of the beau was not unmixed with dirt; and both in complexion and consistencyhe had suffered from the closeness of his pantry. Amonde.If a gentlemanly residence coming strictly within this narrow sallow flabbiness was upon him when he took the stopper out,margin had not been essential to the blood of the Barnacles, and presented the bottle to Mr Clennam’s nose.this particular branch would have had a pretty wide selection ‘Be so good as to give that card to Mr Tite Barnacle, and toamong, let us say, ten thousand houses, offering fifty times the say that I have just now seen the younger Mr Barnacle, whoaccommodation for a third of the money. As it was, Mr Barnacle,finding his gentlemanly residence extremely inconvenient The footman (who had as many large buttons with the Bar-recommended me to call here.’and extremely dear, always laid it, as a public servant, at the nacle crest upon them on the flaps of his pockets, as if he weredoor of the country, and adduced it as another instance of the the family strong box, and carried the plate and jewels aboutcountry’s parsimony.with him buttoned up) pondered over the card a little; thenArthur Clennam came to a squeezed house, with a ramshacklebowed front, little dingy windows, and a little dark It required some judgment to do it without butting the innersaid, ‘Walk in.’area like a damp waistcoat-pocket, which he found to be numbertwenty-four, Mews Street, Grosvenor Square. To the sense physical darkness slipping down the kitchen stairs. The visitor,hall-door open, and in the consequent mental confusion andof smell the house was like a sort of bottle filled with a strong however, brought himself up safely on the door-mat.distillation of Mews; and when the footman opened the door, Still the footman said ‘Walk in,’ so the visitor followed him.he seemed to take the stopper out.At the inner hall-door, another bottle seemed to be presentedThe footman was to the Grosvenor Square footmen, what and another stopper taken out. This second vial appeared tothe house was to the Grosvenor Square houses. Admirable in be filled with concentrated provisions and extract of Sink fromhis way, his way was a back and a bye way. His gorgeousness the pantry. After a skirmish in the narrow passage, occasioned111

Charles Dickensby the footman’s opening the door of the dismal dining-room venience, an unwrinkled pair of trousers, a stiff pair of boots.with confidence, finding some one there with consternation, He was altogether splendid, massive, overpowering, and impracticable.He seemed to have been sitting for his portrait toand backing on the visitor with disorder, the visitor was shutup, pending his announcement, in a close back parlour. There Sir Thomas Lawrence all the days of his life.he had an opportunity of refreshing himself with both the bottles ‘Mr Clennam?’ said Mr Barnacle. ‘Be seated.’at once, looking out at a low blinding wall three feet off, and Mr Clennam became seated.speculating on the number of Barnacle families within the bills ‘You have called on me, I believe,’ said Mr Barnacle, ‘atof mortality who lived in such hutches of their own free flunkey the Circumlocution—’ giving it the air of a word of about fiveand-twentysyllables—’Office.’choice.Mr Barnacle would see him. Would he walk up-stairs? He ‘I have taken that liberty.’would, and he did; and in the drawing-room, with his leg on a Mr Barnacle solemnly bent his head as who should say, ‘Irest, he found Mr Barnacle himself, the express image and do not deny that it is a liberty; proceed to take another liberty,presentment of How not to do it.and let me know your business.’Mr Barnacle dated from a better time, when the country ‘Allow me to observe that I have been for some years inwas not so parsimonious and the Circumlocution Office was China, am quite a stranger at home, and have no personalnot so badgered. He wound and wound folds of white cravat motive or interest in the inquiry I am about to make.’round his neck, as he wound and wound folds of tape and Mr Barnacle tapped his fingers on the table, and, as if hepaper round the neck of the country. His wristbands and collarwere oppressive; his voice and manner were oppressive. appeared to say to his visitor, ‘If you will be good enough towere now sitting for his portrait to a new and strange artist,He had a large watch-chain and bunch of seals, a coat buttonedup to inconvenience, a waistcoat buttoned up to incon-‘I have found a debtor in the Marshalsea Prison of thetake me with my present lofty expression, I shall feel obliged.’name112

Little Dorrit – Book Oneof Dorrit, who has been there many years. I wish to investigate ‘May I inquire how I can obtain official information as to thehis confused affairs so far as to ascertain whether it may not be real state of the case?’possible, after this lapse of time, to ameliorate his unhappy ‘It is competent,’ said Mr Barnacle, ‘to any member of the—condition. The name of Mr Tite Barnacle has been mentioned Public,’ mentioning that obscure body with reluctance, as histo me as representing some highly influential interest among his natural enemy, ‘to memorialise the Circumlocution Department.creditors. Am I correctly informed?’Such formalities as are required to be observed in so doing,It being one of the principles of the Circumlocution Office may be known on application to the proper branch of thatnever, on any account whatever, to give a straightforward answer,Mr Barnacle said, ‘Possibly.’‘Which is the proper branch?’Department.’‘On behalf of the Crown, may I ask, or as private individual?’ ‘I must refer you,’ returned Mr Barnacle, ringing the bell, ‘to‘The Circumlocution Department, sir,’ Mr Barnacle replied, the Department itself for a formal answer to that inquiry.’‘may have possibly recommended—possibly—I cannot say— ‘Excuse my mentioning—’that some public claim against the insolvent estate of a firm or ‘The Department is accessible to the—Public,’ Mr Barnaclecopartnership to which this person may have belonged, should was always checked a little by that word of impertinent signification,‘if the—Public approaches it according to the officialbe enforced. The question may have been, in the course ofofficial business, referred to the Circumlocution Department forms; if the—Public does not approach it according to thefor its consideration. The Department may have either originated,or confirmed, a Minute making that recommendation.’ Mr Barnacle made him a severe bow, as a wounded man ofofficial forms, the—Public has itself to blame.’‘I assume this to be the case, then.’family, a wounded man of place, and a wounded man of a gentlemanlyresidence, all rolled into one; and he made Mr Barnacle a‘The Circumlocution Department,’ said Mr Barnacle, ‘is notresponsible for any gentleman’s assumptions.’bow, and was shut out into Mews Street by the flabby footman.113

Charles DickensHaving got to this pass, he resolved as an exercise in perseverance,to betake himself again to the Circumlocution Office, nacle junior, as if the thing were growing serious.you know. Egad, you haven’t got an appointment,’ said Bar-and try what satisfaction he could get there. So he went back ‘I want to know,’ said Arthur, and repeated his case.to the Circumlocution Office, and once more sent up his card Barnacle junior stared at him until his eye-glass fell out, andto Barnacle junior by a messenger who took it very ill indeed then put it in again and stared at him until it fell out again. ‘Youthat he should come back again, and who was eating mashed have no right to come this sort of move,’ he then observedpotatoes and gravy behind a partition by the hall fire. with the greatest weakness. ‘Look here. What do you mean?He was readmitted to the presence of Barnacle junior, and You told me you didn’t know whether it was public businessfound that young gentleman singeing his knees now, and gapinghis weary way on to four o’clock. ‘I say. Look here. You ‘I have now ascertained that it is public business,’ returnedor not.’stick to us in a devil of a manner,’ Said Barnacle junior, lookingover his shoulder.notonous inquiry.the suitor, ‘and I want to know’—and again repeated his mo-‘I want to know—’Its effect upon young Barnacle was to make him repeat in a‘Look here. Upon my soul you mustn’t come into the place defenceless way, ‘Look here! Upon my SOUL you mustn’tsaying you want to know, you know,’ remonstrated Barnacle come into the place saying you want to know, you know!’ Thejunior, turning about and putting up the eye-glass.effect of that upon Arthur Clennam was to make him repeat‘I want to know,’ said Arthur Clennam, who had made up his inquiry in exactly the same words and tone as before. Thehis mind to persistence in one short form of words, ‘the precisenature of the claim of the Crown against a prisoner for derful spectacle of failure and helplessness.effect of that upon young Barnacle was to make him a won-debt, named Dorrit.’‘Well, I tell you what. Look here. You had better try the‘I say. Look here. You really are going it at a great pace, Secretarial Department,’ he said at last, sidling to the bell and114

Little Dorrit – Book Oneringing it. ‘Jenkinson,’ to the mashed potatoes messenger, ‘Mr the match, and heavily backed the Dog. When the match cameWobbler!’off, some devil of a fellow was bought over, Sir, Dog wasArthur Clennam, who now felt that he had devoted himself made drunk, Dog’s master was cleaned out.’to the storming of the Circumlocution Office, and must go ‘Mr Wobbler?’ inquired the suitor.through with it, accompanied the messenger to another floor The gentleman who was spreading the marmalade returned,of the building, where that functionary pointed out Mr without looking up from that occupation, ‘What did he call theWobbler’s room. He entered that apartment, and found two Dog?’gentlemen sitting face to face at a large and easy desk, one of ‘Called him Lovely,’ said the other gentleman. ‘Said the Dogwhom was polishing a gun-barrel on his pocket-handkerchief, was the perfect picture of the old aunt from whom he hadwhile the other was spreading marmalade on bread with a expectations. Found him particularly like her when hocussed.’paper-knife.‘Mr Wobbler?’ said the suitor.‘Mr Wobbler?’ inquired the suitor.Both gentlemen laughed for some time. The gentleman withBoth gentlemen glanced at him, and seemed surprised at his the gun-barrel, considering it, on inspection, in a satisfactoryassurance.state, referred it to the other; receiving confirmation of his views,‘So he went,’ said the gentleman with the gun-barrel, who he fitted it into its place in the case before him, and took outwas an extremely deliberate speaker, ‘down to his cousin’s the stock and polished that, softly whistling.place, and took the Dog with him by rail. Inestimable Dog. ‘Mr Wobbler?’ said the suitor.Flew at the porter fellow when he was put into the dog-box, ‘What’s the matter?’ then said Mr Wobbler, with his mouthand flew at the guard when he was taken out. He got half-adozenfellows into a Barn, and a good supply of Rats, and ‘I want to know—’ and Arthur Clennam again mechanicallyfull.timed the Dog. Finding the Dog able to do it immensely, made set forth what he wanted to know.115

Charles Dickens‘Can’t inform you,’ observed Mr Wobbler, apparently to ‘I want to know,’ said Arthur Clennam,—and again statedhis lunch. ‘Never heard of it. Nothing at all to do with it. Better his case in the same barrel-organ way. As number one referredhim to number two, and as number two referred him totry Mr Clive, second door on the left in the next passage.’‘Perhaps he will give me the same answer.’number three, he had occasion to state it three times before‘Very likely. Don’t know anything about it,’ said Mr Wobbler. they all referred him to number four, to whom he stated it again.The suitor turned away and had left the room, when the Number four was a vivacious, well-looking, well-dressed,gentleman with the gun called out ‘Mister! Hallo!’agreeable young fellow—he was a Barnacle, but on the moreHe looked in again.sprightly side of the family—and he said in an easy way, ‘Oh!‘Shut the door after you. You’re letting in a devil of a draught you had better not bother yourself about it, I think.’here!’ A few steps brought him to the second door on the left ‘Not bother myself about it?’in the next passage. In that room he found three gentlemen; ‘No! I recommend you not to bother yourself about it.’number one doing nothing particular, number two doing nothingparticular, number three doing nothing particular. They found himself at a loss how to receive it.This was such a new point of view that Arthur Clennamseemed, however, to be more directly concerned than the othershad been in the effective execution of the great principle of Lots of ‘em here. You can have a dozen if you like. But you’ll‘You can if you like. I can give you plenty of forms to fill up.the office, as there was an awful inner apartment with a double never go on with it,’ said number four.door, in which the Circumlocution Sages appeared to be assembledin council, and out of which there was an imposing in England.’ ‘I don’t say it would be hopeless,’ returned num-‘Would it be such hopeless work? Excuse me; I am a strangercoming of papers, and into which there was an imposing going ber four, with a frank smile. ‘I don’t express an opinion aboutof papers, almost constantly; wherein another gentleman, numberfour, was the active instrument.go on with it. However, of course, you can do as you like.that; I only express an opinion about you. I don’t think you’dI116

Little Dorrit – Book Onesuppose there was a failure in the performance of a contract, young Barnacle knew perfectly that it was not. This touch andor something of that kind, was there?’go young Barnacle had ‘got up’ the Department in a private‘I really don’t know.’secretaryship, that he might be ready for any little bit of fat that‘Well! That you can find out. Then you’ll find out what Departmentthe contract was in, and then you’ll find out all about politico-diplomatic hocus pocus piece of machinery for thecame to hand; and he fully understood the Department to be ait there.’assistance of the nobs in keeping off the snobs. This dashing‘I beg your pardon. How shall I find out?’young Barnacle, in a word, was likely to become a statesman,‘Why, you’ll—you’ll ask till they tell you. Then you’ll and to make a figure.memorialise that Department (according to regular forms which ‘When the business is regularly before that Department, whateverit is,’ pursued this bright young Barnacle, ‘then you canyou’ll find out) for leave to memorialise this Department. Ifyou get it (which you may after a time), that memorial must be watch it from time to time through that Department. When itentered in that Department, sent to be registered in this Department,sent back to be signed by that Department, sent it from time to time through this Department. We shall have tocomes regularly before this Department, then you must watchback to be countersigned by this Department, and then it will refer it right and left; and when we refer it anywhere, thenbegin to be regularly before that Department. You’ll find out you’ll have to look it up. When it comes back to us at anywhen the business passes through each of these stages by asking time, then you had better look US up. When it sticks anywhere,you’ll have to try to give it a jog. When you write toat both Departments till they tell you.’‘But surely this is not the way to do the business,’ Arthur another Department about it, and then to this Department aboutClennam could not help saying.it, and don’t hear anything satisfactory about it, why then youThis airy young Barnacle was quite entertained by his simplicityin supposing for a moment that it was. This light in hand Arthur Clennam looked very doubtful indeed. ‘But Ihad better—keep on writing.’am117

Charles Dickensobliged to you at any rate,’ said he, ‘for your politeness.’ open, and emerge into the street with the short man, who was‘Not at all,’ replied this engaging young Barnacle. ‘Try the of an unoffending appearance, that Clennam stood still for thething, and see how you like it. It will be in your power to give moment exchanging looks of surprise with the porter. He followed,however, quickly; and saw Mr Meagles going downit up at any time, if you don’t like it. You had better take a lotof forms away with you. Give him a lot of forms!’ With which the street with his enemy at his side. He soon came up with hisinstruction to number two, this sparkling young Barnacle took old travelling companion, and touched him on the back. Thea fresh handful of papers from numbers one and three, and choleric face which Mr Meagles turned upon him smoothedcarried them into the sanctuary to offer to the presiding Idol of when he saw who it was, and he put out his friendly hand.the Circumlocution Office.‘How are you?’ said Mr Meagles. ‘How d’ye do? I haveArthur Clennam put his forms in his pocket gloomily enough, only just come over from abroad. I am glad to see you.’and went his way down the long stone passage and the long ‘And I am rejoiced to see you.’stone staircase. He had come to the swing doors leading into ‘Thank’ee. Thank’ee!’the street, and was waiting, not over patiently, for two people ‘Mrs Meagles and your daughter—?’who were between him and them to pass out and let him follow,when the voice of one of them struck familiarly on his ear. had come upon me in a more prepossessing condition as to‘Are as well as possible,’ said Mr Meagles. ‘I only wish youHe looked at the speaker and recognised Mr Meagles. Mr coolness.’Meagles was very red in the face—redder than travel could Though it was anything but a hot day, Mr Meagles was in a heatedhave made him—and collaring a short man who was with him, state that attracted the attention of the passersby; more particularlysaid, ‘come out, you rascal, come Out!’as he leaned his back against a railing, took off his hat and cravat,it was such an unexpected hearing, and it was also such an and heartily rubbed his steaming head and face, and his reddenedunexpected sight to see Mr Meagles burst the swing doors ears and neck, without the least regard for public opinion.118

Little Dorrit – Book One‘Whew!’ said Mr Meagles, dressing again. ‘That’s comfortable.Now I am cooler.’Clennam wondered within himself, as they took the nearestof Way, ‘and I’ll introduce you presently. Now then!’‘You have been ruffled, Mr Meagles. What is the matter?’ way to the Park, what this unknown (who complied in the‘Wait a bit, and I’ll tell you. Have you leisure for a turn in the gentlest manner) could have been doing. His appearance didPark?’not at all justify the suspicion that he had been detected in‘As much as you please.’designs on Mr Meagles’s pocket-handkerchief; nor had he‘Come along then. Ah! you may well look at him.’ He happenedto have turned his eyes towards the offender whom Mr quiet, plain, steady man; made no attempt to escape; andany appearance of being quarrelsome or violent. He was aMeagles had so angrily collared. ‘He’s something to look at, seemed a little depressed, but neither ashamed nor repentant.that fellow is.’If he were a criminal offender, he must surely be an incorrigiblehypocrite; and if he were no offender, why should MrHe was not much to look at, either in point of size or in pointof dress; being merely a short, square, practical looking man, Meagles have collared him in the Circumlocution Office? Hewhose hair had turned grey, and in whose face and forehead perceived that the man was not a difficulty in his own mindthere were deep lines of cogitation, which looked as though alone, but in Mr Meagles’s too; for such conversation as theythey were carved in hard wood. He was dressed in decent had together on the short way to the Park was by no meansblack, a little rusty, and had the appearance of a sagacious well sustained, and Mr Meagles’s eye always wandered backmaster in some handicraft. He had a spectacle-case in his hand, to the man, even when he spoke of something very different.which he turned over and over while he was thus in question, At length they being among the trees, Mr Meagles stoppedwith a certain free use of the thumb that is never seen but in a short, and said:hand accustomed to tools.‘Mr Clennam, will you do me the favour to look at this man?‘You keep with us,’ said Mr Meagles, in a threatening kind His name is Doyce, Daniel Doyce. You wouldn’t suppose this119

Charles Dickensman to be a notorious rascal; would you?’money it cost him, or how many years of his life he had been‘I certainly should not.’ It was really a disconcerting question,with the man there.Wasn’t it a dozen?’ said Mr Meagles, addressing Doyce. ‘Heabout it, but he brought it to perfection a dozen years ago.‘No. You would not. I know you would not. You wouldn’t is the most exasperating man in the world; he never complains!’suppose him to be a public offender; would you?’‘Yes. Rather better than twelve years ago.’‘No.’‘Rather better?’ said Mr Meagles, ‘you mean rather worse.‘No. But he is. He is a public offender. What has he been Well, Mr Clennam, he addresses himself to the Government.guilty of? Murder, manslaughter, arson, forgery, swindling, The moment he addresses himself to the Government, he becomesa public offender! Sir,’ said Mr Meagles, in danger ofhouse-breaking, highway robbery, larceny, conspiracy, fraud?Which should you say, now?’making himself excessively hot again, ‘he ceases to be an innocentcitizen, and becomes a culprit.‘I should say,’ returned Arthur Clennam, observing a faintsmile in Daniel Doyce’s face, ‘not one of them.’He is treated from that instant as a man who has done some‘You are right,’ said Mr Meagles. ‘But he has been ingenious,and he has been trying to turn his ingenuity to his country’s sneered at, handed over by this highly-connected young orinfernal action. He is a man to be shirked, put off, brow-beaten,service. That makes him a public offender directly, sir.’ old gentleman, to that highly-connected young or old gentleman,and dodged back again; he is a man with no rights in hisArthur looked at the man himself, who only shook his head.‘This Doyce,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘is a smith and engineer. own time, or his own property; a mere outlaw, whom it isHe is not in a large way, but he is well known as a very ingeniousman. A dozen years ago, he perfects an invention (in-possible means.’justifiable to get rid of anyhow; a man to be worn out by allvolving a very curious secret process) of great importance to It was not so difficult to believe, after the morning’s experience,as Mr Meagles his country and his fellow-creatures. I won’t say how muchsupposed.120

Little Dorrit – Book One‘Don’t stand there, Doyce, turning your spectacle-case over How the trials were made in the presence of a board of six,and over,’ cried Mr Meagles, ‘but tell Mr Clennam what you of whom two ancient members were too blind to see it, twoconfessed to me.’other ancient members were too deaf to hear it, one other‘I undoubtedly was made to feel,’ said the inventor, ‘as if I ancient member was too lame to get near it, and the final ancientmember was too pig-headed to look at it. How therehad committed an offence. In dancing attendance at the variousoffices, I was always treated, more or less, as if it was a were more years; more impertinences, ignorances, and insults.very bad offence. I have frequently found it necessary to reflect,for my own self-support, that I really had not done any-hundred and three, whereby they resigned the business to theHow my lords then made a Minute, number five thousand onething to bring myself into the Newgate Calendar, but only Circumlocution Office. How the Circumlocution Office, inwanted to effect a great saving and a great improvement.’ course of time, took up the business as if it were a bran new‘There!’ said Mr Meagles. ‘Judge whether I exaggerate. thing of yesterday, which had never been heard of before;Now you’ll be able to believe me when I tell you the rest of the muddled the business, addled the business, tossed the businessin a wet blanket. How the impertinences, ignorances, andcase.’With this prelude, Mr Meagles went through the narrative; insults went through the multiplication table. How there was athe established narrative, which has become tiresome; the reference of the invention to three Barnacles and a Stiltstalking,matter-of-course narrative which we all know by heart. How, who knew nothing about it; into whose heads nothing could beafter interminable attendance and correspondence, after infiniteimpertinences, ignorances, and insults, my lords made a cal impossibilities about it. How the Circumlocution Office, inhammered about it; who got bored about it, and reported physi-Minute, number three thousand four hundred and seventy-two, a Minute, number eight thousand seven hundred and forty, ‘sawallowing the culprit to make certain trials of his invention at his no reason to reverse the decision at which my lords had arrived.’How the Circumlocution Office, being reminded own expense.that121

Charles Dickensmy lords had arrived at no decision, shelved the business. How them off; that they could but be knocked off once; and that ifthere had been a final interview with the head of the CircumlocutionOffice that very morning, and how the Brazen Head ship’s look out, and not theirs.the ship went down with them yet sticking to it, that was thehad spoken, and had been, upon the whole, and under all the ‘There!’ said Mr Meagles, ‘now you know all about Doyce.circumstances, and looking at it from the various points of view, Except, which I own does not improve my state of mind, thatof opinion that one of two courses was to be pursued in respectof the business: that was to say, either to leave it alone ‘You must have great patience,’ said Arthur Clennam, look-even now you don’t hear him complain.’for evermore, or to begin it all over again.ing at him with some wonder, ‘great forbearance.’‘Upon which,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘as a practical man, I then ‘No,’ he returned, ‘I don’t know that I have more than anotherman.’and there, in that presence, took Doyce by the collar, and toldhim it was plain to me that he was an infamous rascal and ‘By the Lord, you have more than I have, though!’ cried Mrtreasonable disturber of the government peace, and took him Meagles.away. I brought him out of the office door by the collar, that Doyce smiled, as he said to Clennam, ‘You see, my experienceof these things does not begin with myself. It has been inthe very porter might know I was a practical man who appreciatedthe official estimate of such characters; and here we my way to know a little about them from time to time. Mine isare!’not a particular case. I am not worse used than a hundredIf that airy young Barnacle had been there, he would have others who have put themselves in the same position—than allfrankly told them perhaps that the Circumlocution Office had the others, I was going to say.’achieved its function. That what the Barnacles had to do, was ‘I don’t know that I should find that a consolation, if it wereto stick on to the national ship as long as they could. That to my case; but I am very glad that you do.’trim the ship, lighten the ship, clean the ship, would be to knock ‘Understand me! I don’t say,’ he replied in his steady, plan-122

Little Dorrit – Book Onening way, and looking into the distance before him as if his way of our government, it is its regular way. Have you evergrey eye were measuring it, ‘that it’s recompense for a man’s heard of any projector or inventor who failed to find it all buttoil and hope; but it’s a certain sort of relief to know that I inaccessible, and whom it did not discourage and ill-treat?’might have counted on this.’‘I cannot say that I ever have.’He spoke in that quiet deliberate manner, and in that undertone,which is often observable in mechanics who consider of any useful thing? Ever known it to set an example of any‘Have you ever known it to be beforehand in the adoptionand adjust with great nicety. It belonged to him like his supplenessof thumb, or his peculiar way of tilting up his hat at the ‘I am a good deal older than my friend here,’ said Mruseful kind?’back every now and then, as if he were contemplating some Meagles, ‘and I’ll answer that. Never.’half-finished work of his hand and thinking about it.‘But we all three have known, I expect,’ said the inventor,‘Disappointed?’ he went on, as he walked between them ‘a pretty many cases of its fixed determination to be milesunder the trees. ‘Yes. No doubt I am disappointed. Hurt? Yes. upon miles, and years upon years, behind the rest of us; and ofNo doubt I am hurt. That’s only natural. But what I mean its being found out persisting in the use of things long superseded,even after the better things were well known and gen-when I say that people who put themselves in the same positionare mostly used in the same way—’erally taken up?’‘In England,’ said Mr Meagles.They all agreed upon that.‘Oh! of course I mean in England. When they take their ‘Well then,’ said Doyce, with a sigh, ‘as I know what such ainventions into foreign countries, that’s quite different. And that’s metal will do at such a temperature, and such a body underthe reason why so many go there.’such a pressure, so I may know (if I will only consider), howMr Meagles very hot indeed again.these great lords and gentlemen will certainly deal with such a‘What I mean is, that however this comes to be the regular matter as mine.123

Charles DickensI have no right to be surprised, with a head upon my shoulders,and memory in it, that I fall into the ranks with all who ‘Come, come!’ said he. ‘We shall not make this the betterutes, and then began to cool and clear up.came before me. I ought to have let it alone. I have had warningenough, I am sure.’‘I shall go back to the factory,’ said Dan. ‘Why then, we’llby being grim. Where do you think of going, Dan?’all go back to the factory, or walk in that direction,’ returnedWITH THAT HE put up his spectacle-case, and said to Arthur, Mr Meagles cheerfully. ‘Mr Clennam won’t be deterred by its‘If I don’t complain, Mr Clennam, I can feel gratitude; and I being in Bleeding Heart Yard.’assure you that I feel it towards our mutual friend. Many’s the ‘Bleeding Heart Yard?’ said Clennam. ‘I want to go there.’day, and many’s the way in which he has backed me.’ ‘So much the better,’ cried Mr Meagles. ‘Come along!’‘Stuff and nonsense,’ said Mr Meagles.As they went along, certainly one of the party, and probablyArthur could not but glance at Daniel Doyce in the ensuing more than one, thought that Bleeding Heart Yard was no inappropriatedestination for a man who had been in official corre-silence.Though it was evidently in the grain of his character, and of spondence with my lords and the Barnacles—and perhapshis respect for his own case, that he should abstain from idle had a misgiving also that Britannia herself might come to lookmurmuring, it was evident that he had grown the older, the for lodgings in Bleeding Heart Yard some ugly day or other, ifsterner, and the poorer, for his long endeavour. He could not she over-did the Circumlocution Office.but think what a blessed thing it would have been for this man,if he had taken a lesson from the gentlemen who were so kindas to take a nation’s affairs in charge, and had learnt How notto do it.Mr Meagles was hot and despondent for about five min-124

Little Dorrit – Book Onethe water murmured at him, as if the fitful autumn night wereCHAPTER 11 Let Loosedisturbed by him.He glanced here, and he glanced there, sullenly butA LATE, DULL autumn night was closing in upon the river Saone.shrinkingly; and sometimes stopped and turned about, andThe stream, like a sullied looking-glass in a gloomy place, reflectedthe clouds heavily; and the low banks leaned over herelooked all round him. Then he limped on again, toiling andmuttering.and there, as if they were half curious, and half afraid, to see‘To the devil with this plain that has no end! To the devil withtheir darkening pictures in the water. The flat expanse of countrythese stones that cut like knives! To the devil with this dismalabout Chalons lay a long heavy streak, occasionally made adarkness, wrapping itself about one with a chill! I hate you!’little ragged by a row of poplar trees against the wrathful sunset.On the banks of the river Saone it was wet, depressing,And he would have visited his hatred upon it all with thescowl he threw about him, if he could. He trudged a little further;and looking into the distance before him, stopped again.solitary; and the night deepened fast.One man slowly moving on towards Chalons was the only‘I, hungry, thirsty, weary. You, imbeciles, where the lights arevisible figure in the landscape. Cain might have looked as lonelyyonder, eating and drinking, and warming yourselves at fires! Iand avoided. With an old sheepskin knapsack at his back,wish I had the sacking of your town; I would repay you, myand a rough, unbarked stick cut out of some wood in his hand;children!’miry, footsore, his shoes and gaiters trodden out, his hair andBut the teeth he set at the town, and the hand he shook atbeard untrimmed; the cloak he carried over his shoulder, andthe town, brought the town no nearer; and the man was yetthe clothes he wore, sodden with wet; limping along in painhungrier, and thirstier, and wearier, when his feet were on itsand difficulty; he looked as if the clouds were hurrying fromjagged pavement, and he stood looking about him.him, as if the wail of the wind and the shuddering of the grassThere was the hotel with its gateway, and its savoury smellwere directed against him, as if the low mysterious plashing of125

Charles Dickensof cooking; there was the cafe with its bright windows, and its Break of Day door, and limped in.rattling of dominoes; there was the dyer’s with its strips of red He touched his discoloured slouched hat, as he came in atcloth on the doorposts; there was the silversmith’s with its earrings,and its offerings for altars; there was the tobacco dealer’s playing dominoes at one of the little tables; three or four werethe door, to a few men who occupied the room. Two werewith its lively group of soldier customers coming out pipe in seated round the stove, conversing as they smoked; the billiard-tablein the centre was left alone for the time; the land-mouth; there were the bad odours of the town, and the rainand the refuse in the kennels, and the faint lamps slung across lady of the Daybreak sat behind her little counter among herthe road, and the huge Diligence, and its mountain of luggage, cloudy bottles of syrups, baskets of cakes, and leaden drainagefor glasses, working at her needle.and its six grey horses with their tails tied up, getting underweigh at the coach office. But no small cabaret for a straitened Making his way to an empty little table in a corner of thetraveller being within sight, he had to seek one round the dark room behind the stove, he put down his knapsack and hiscorner, where the cabbage leaves lay thickest, trodden about cloak upon the ground. As he raised his head from stooping tothe public cistern at which women had not yet left off drawing do so, he found the landlady beside him.water. There, in the back street he found one, the Break of ‘One can lodge here to-night, madame?’Day. The curtained windows clouded the Break of Day, but it ‘Perfectly!’ said the landlady in a high, sing-song, cheeryseemed light and warm, and it announced in legible inscriptionswith appropriate pictorial embellishment of billiard cue ‘Good. One can dine—sup—what you please to call it?’voice.and ball, that at the Break of Day one could play billiards; that ‘Ah, perfectly!’ cried the landlady as before. ‘Dispatch then,there one could find meat, drink, and lodgings, whether one madame, if you please. Something to eat, as quickly as youcame on horseback, or came on foot; and that it kept good can; and some wine at once. I am exhausted.’wines, liqueurs, and brandy. The man turned the handle of the ‘It is very bad weather, monsieur,’ said the landlady.126

Little Dorrit – Book One‘Cursed weather.’the devil was in question.‘And a very long road.’The landlady having given her directions for the new guest’s‘A cursed road.’entertainment to her husband, who acted as cook to the BreakHis hoarse voice failed him, and he rested his head upon his of Day, had resumed her needlework behind her counter. Shehands until a bottle of wine was brought from the counter. was a smart, neat, bright little woman, with a good deal of capHaving filled and emptied his little tumbler twice, and having and a good deal of stocking, and she struck into the conversationwith several laughing nods of her head, but without look-broken off an end from the great loaf that was set before himwith his cloth and napkin, soup-plate, salt, pepper, and oil, he ing up from her work.rested his back against the corner of the wall, made a couch of ‘Ah Heaven, then,’ said she. ‘When the boat came up fromthe bench on which he sat, and began to chew crust, until such Lyons, and brought the news that the devil was actually lettime as his repast should be ready. There had been that momentaryinterruption of the talk about the stove, and that tem-No, not I.’loose at Marseilles, some fly-catchers swallowed it. But I?porary inattention to and distraction from one another, which ‘Madame, you are always right,’ returned the tall Swiss.is usually inseparable in such a company from the arrival of a ‘Doubtless you were enraged against that man, madame?’stranger. It had passed over by this time; and the men had ‘Ay, yes, then!’ cried the landlady, raising her eyes from herdone glancing at him, and were talking again.work, opening them very wide, and tossing her head on one‘That’s the true reason,’ said one of them, bringing a story side. ‘Naturally, yes.’he had been telling, to a close, ‘that’s the true reason why they ‘He was a bad subject.’said that the devil was let loose.’ The speaker was the tall ‘He was a wicked wretch,’ said the landlady, ‘and well meritedwhat he had the good fortune to escape. So much theSwiss belonging to the church, and he brought something ofthe authority of the church into the discussion—especially as worse.’127

Charles Dickens‘Stay, madame! Let us see,’ returned the Swiss, who must be crushed like savage beasts and cleared out of theargumentatively turning his cigar between his lips. ‘It may have way. They are but few, I hope; but I have seen (in this worldbeen his unfortunate destiny. He may have been the child of here where I find myself, and even at the little Break of Day)circumstances. It is always possible that he had, and has, good that there are such people. And I do not doubt that this man—in him if one did but know how to find it out. Philosophical whatever they call him, I forget his name—is one of them.’philanthropy teaches—’The landlady’s lively speech was received with greater favourThe rest of the little knot about the stove murmured an objectionto the introduction of that threatening expression. Even amiable whitewashers of the class she so unreasonably ob-at the Break of Day, than it would have elicited from certainthe two players at dominoes glanced up from their game, as if jected to, nearer Great Britain.to protest against philosophical philanthropy being brought by ‘My faith! If your philosophical philanthropy,’ said the landlady,putting down her work, and rising to take the stranger’sname into the Break of Day.‘Hold there, you and your philanthropy,’ cried the smiling soup from her husband, who appeared with it at a side door,landlady, nodding her head more than ever. ‘Listen then. I am ‘puts anybody at the mercy of such people by holding termsa woman, I. I know nothing of philosophical philanthropy. But with them at all, in words or deeds, or both, take it away fromI know what I have seen, and what I have looked in the face in the Break of Day, for it isn’t worth a sou.’this world here, where I find myself. And I tell you this, my As she placed the soup before the guest, who changed hisfriend, that there are people (men and women both, unfortunately)who have no good in them—none. That there are people moustache went up under his nose, and his nose came downattitude to a sitting one, he looked her full in the face, and hiswhom it is necessary to detest without compromise. That there over his moustache.are people who must be dealt with as enemies of the human ‘Well!’ said the previous speaker, ‘let us come back to ourrace. That there are people who have no human heart, and subject. Leaving all that aside, gentlemen, it was because the128

Little Dorrit – Book Oneman was acquitted on his trial that people said at Marseilles ‘Rigaud, monsieur.’that the devil was let loose. That was how the phrase began to ‘Rigaud. Pardon me again—has contracted your displeasure,how?’circulate, and what it meant; nothing more.’‘How do they call him?’ said the landlady. ‘Biraud, is it not?’ The landlady, who had been at one moment thinking within herselfthat this was a handsome man, at another moment that this‘Rigaud, madame,’ returned the tall Swiss.‘Rigaud! To be sure.’was an ill-looking man, observed the nose coming down and theThe traveller’s soup was succeeded by a dish of meat, and moustache going up, and strongly inclined to the latter decision.that by a dish of vegetables. He ate all that was placed before Rigaud was a criminal, she said, who had killed his wife.him, emptied his bottle of wine, called for a glass of rum, and ‘Ay, ay? Death of my life, that’s a criminal indeed. But howsmoked his cigarette with his cup of coffee. As he became do you know it?’refreshed, he became overbearing; and patronised the companyat the Daybreak in certain small talk at which he assisted, ‘Hah! And yet he escaped justice?’‘All the world knows it.’as if his condition were far above his appearance.‘Monsieur, the law could not prove it against him to its satisfaction.So the law says. Nevertheless, all the world knowsThe company might have had other engagements, or theymight have felt their inferiority, but in any case they dispersed he did it. The people knew it so well, that they tried to tear himby degrees, and not being replaced by other company, left to pieces.’their new patron in possession of the Break of Day. The landlordwas clinking about in his kitchen; the landlady was quiet guest.‘Being all in perfect accord with their own wives?’ said theat her work; and the refreshed traveller sat smoking by the ‘Haha!’stove, warming his ragged feet.The landlady of the Break of Day looked at him again, and‘Pardon me, madame—that Biraud.’felt almost confirmed in her last decision. He had a fine hand,129

Charles Dickensthough, and he turned it with a great show. She began once in it, and space enough for twenty. This the landlady of themore to think that he was not ill-looking after all.Break of Day chirpingly explained, calling between whiles,‘Did you mention, madame—or was it mentioned among ‘Hola, my husband!’ out at the side door.the gentlemen—what became of him?’ The landlady shook My husband answered at length, ‘It is I, my wife!’ and presentinghimself in his cook’s cap, lighted the traveller up a steepher head; it being the first conversational stage at which hervivacious earnestness had ceased to nod it, keeping time to and narrow staircase; the traveller carrying his own cloak andwhat she said. It had been mentioned at the Daybreak, she knapsack, and bidding the landlady good night with a complimentaryreference to the pleasure of seeing her again to-mor-remarked, on the authority of the journals, that he had beenkept in prison for his own safety. However that might be, he row. It was a large room, with a rough splintery floor,had escaped his deserts; so much the worse.unplastered rafters overhead, and two bedsteads on oppositeThe guest sat looking at her as he smoked out his final cigarette,and as she sat with her head bent over her work, with an with a sidelong look at his guest stooping over his knapsack,sides. Here ‘my husband’ put down the candle he carried, andexpression that might have resolved her doubts, and brought gruffly gave him the instruction, ‘The bed to the right!’ and lefther to a lasting conclusion on the subject of his good or bad him to his repose. The landlord, whether he was a good or alooks if she had seen it. When she did look up, the expression bad physiognomist, had fully made up his mind that the guestwas not there. The hand was smoothing his shaggy moustache. was an ill-looking fellow.‘May one ask to be shown to bed, madame?’The guest looked contemptuously at the clean coarse beddingprepared for him, and, sitting down on the rush chair atVery willingly, monsieur. Hola, my husband! My husbandwould conduct him up-stairs. There was one traveller there, the bedside, drew his money out of his pocket, and told it overasleep, who had gone to bed very early indeed, being overpoweredby fatigue; but it was a large chamber with two beds Heaven I must eat at the cost of some other manin his hand. ‘One must eat,’ he muttered to himself, ‘but byto-morrow!’130

Little Dorrit – Book OneAs he sat pondering, and mechanically weighing his money breathing, and with a long deep respiration opened his eyes.in his palm, the deep breathing of the traveller in the other bed At first they were not awake, though open. He lay for somefell so regularly upon his hearing that it attracted his eyes in that seconds looking placidly at his old prison companion, and then,direction. The man was covered up warm, and had drawn the all at once, with a cry of surprise and alarm, sprang out of bed.white curtain at his head, so that he could be only heard, not ‘Hush! What’s the matter? Keep quiet! It’s I. You knowseen. But the deep regular breathing, still going on while the me?’ cried the other, in a suppressed voice.other was taking off his worn shoes and gaiters, and still continuingwhen he had laid aside his coat and cravat, became at vocations and ejaculations, tremblingly backing into a corner,But John Baptist, widely staring, muttering a number of in-length a strong provocative to curiosity, and incentive to get a slipping on his trousers, and tying his coat by the two sleevesglimpse of the sleeper’s face.round his neck, manifested an unmistakable desire to escapeThe waking traveller, therefore, stole a little nearer, and yet by the door rather than renew the acquaintance. Seeing this,a little nearer, and a little nearer to the sleeping traveller’s bed, his old prison comrade fell back upon the door, and set hisuntil he stood close beside it. Even then he could not see his shoulders against it.face, for he had drawn the sheet over it. The regular breathing ‘Cavalletto! Wake, boy! Rub your eyes and look at me.still continuing, he put his smooth white hand (such a treacheroushand it looked, as it went creeping from him!) to the sheet, say Lagnier!’Not the name you used to call me—don’t use that—Lagnier,and gently lifted it away.John Baptist, staring at him with eyes opened to their utmost‘Death of my soul!’ he whispered, falling back, ‘here’s width, made a number of those national, backhanded shakesCavalletto!’of the right forefinger in the air, as if he were resolved on negativingbeforehand everything that the other could possibly ad-The little Italian, previously influenced in his sleep, perhaps,by the stealthy presence at his bedside, stopped in his regular vance during the whole term of his life.131

Charles Dickens‘Cavalletto! Give me your hand. You know Lagnier, the ‘Two days after you, my master.’gentleman. Touch the hand of a gentleman!’‘How do you come here?’Submitting himself to the old tone of condescending authority,John Baptist, not at all steady on his legs as yet, advanced once, and since then I have changed about. I have been doing‘I was cautioned not to stay there, and so I left the town atand put his hand in his patron’s. Monsieur Lagnier laughed; odds and ends at Avignon, at Pont Esprit, at Lyons; upon theand having given it a squeeze, tossed it up and let it go. Rhone, upon the Saone.’ As he spoke, he rapidly mapped the‘Then you were—’ faltered John Baptist.places out with his sunburnt hand upon the floor. ‘And where‘Not shaved? No. See here!’ cried Lagnier, giving his head are you going?’a twirl; ‘as tight on as your own.’‘Going, my master?’John Baptist, with a slight shiver, looked all round the room ‘Ay!’as if to recall where he was. His patron took that opportunity John Baptist seemed to desire to evade the question withoutof turning the key in the door, and then sat down upon his bed. knowing how. ‘By Bacchus!’ he said at last, as if he were‘Look!’ he said, holding up his shoes and gaiters. ‘That’s a forced to the admission, ‘I have sometimes had a thought ofpoor trim for a gentleman, you’ll say. No matter, you shall see going to Paris, and perhaps to England.’how Soon I’ll mend it. Come and sit down. Take your old ‘Cavalletto. This is in confidence. I also am going to Parisplace!’and perhaps to England. We’ll go together.’John Baptist, looking anything but reassured, sat down on The little man nodded his head, and showed his teeth; andthe floor at the bedside, keeping his eyes upon his patron all yet seemed not quite convinced that it was a surpassingly desirablearrangement.the time.‘That’s well!’ cried Lagnier. ‘Now we might be in the old ‘We’ll go together,’ repeated Lagnier. ‘You shall see howinfernal hole again, hey? How long have you been out?’ soon I will force myself to be recognised as a gentleman, and132

Little Dorrit – Book Oneyou shall profit by it. It is agreed? Are we one?’sensitive and brave, and that it is my character to govern. How‘Oh, surely, surely!’ said the little man.has society respected those qualities in me? I have been‘Then you shall hear before I sleep—and in six words, for I shrieked at through the streets. I have been guarded throughwant sleep—how I appear before you, I, Lagnier. Remember the streets against men, and especially women, running at methat. Not the other.’armed with any weapons they could lay their hands on. I have‘Altro, altro! Not Ri—’ Before John Baptist could finish the lain in prison for security, with the place of my confinementname, his comrade had got his hand under his chin and fiercely kept a secret, lest I should be torn out of it and felled by ashut up his mouth.hundred blows. I have been carted out of Marseilles in the‘Death! what are you doing? Do you want me to be trampled dead of night, and carried leagues away from it packed inupon and stoned? Do you want to be trampled upon and straw. It has not been safe for me to go near my house; and,stoned? You would be. You don’t imagine that they would set with a beggar’s pittance in my pocket, I have walked throughupon me, and let my prison chum go? Don’t think it!’ There vile mud and weather ever since, until my feet are crippled—was an expression in his face as he released his grip of his look at them! Such are the humiliations that society has inflictedupon me, possessing the qualities I have mentioned,friend’s jaw, from which his friend inferred that if the course ofevents really came to any stoning and trampling, Monsieur and which you know me to possess. But society shall pay forLagnier would so distinguish him with his notice as to ensure it.’his having his full share of it. He remembered what a cosmopolitangentleman Monsieur Lagnier was, and how few weak before his lips.All this he said in his companion’s ear, and with his handdistinctions he made.‘Even here,’ he went on in the same way, ‘even in this mean‘I am a man,’ said Monsieur Lagnier, ‘whom society has drinking-shop, society pursues me. Madame defames me, anddeeply wronged since you last saw me. You know that I am her guests defame me. I, too, a gentleman with manners and133

Charles Dickensaccomplishments to strike them dead! But the wrongs society Supposed that the next proceeding of the Italian would have beenhas heaped upon me are treasured in this breast.’to undress; but he did exactly the reverse, and dressed himselfTo all of which John Baptist, listening attentively to the suppressedhoarse voice, said from time to time, ‘Surely, surely!’ down upon his bed with some of its coverings over him, and hisfrom head to foot, saving his shoes. When he had so done, he laytossing his head and shutting his eyes, as if there were the clearest coat still tied round his neck, to get through the night.case against society that perfect candour could make out. When he started up, the Godfather Break of Day was peepingat its namesake. He rose, took his shoes in his hand, turned‘Put my shoes there,’ continued Lagnier. ‘Hang my cloak todry there by the door. Take my hat.’ He obeyed each instruction,as it was given. ‘And this is the bed to which society Nothing was astir there but the smell of coffee, wine, tobacco,the key in the door with great caution, and crept downstairs.consigns me, is it? Hah. Very well!’and syrups; and madame’s little counter looked ghastly enough.As he stretched out his length upon it, with a ragged handkerchiefbound round his wicked head, and only his wicked wanted to see nobody—wanted nothing but to get on his shoesBut he had paid madame his little note at it over night, andhead showing above the bedclothes, John Baptist was rather and his knapsack, open the door, and run away.strongly reminded of what had so very nearly happened to He prospered in his object. No movement or voice was heardprevent the moustache from any more going up as it did, and when he opened the door; no wicked head tied up in a raggedthe nose from any more coming down as it did.handkerchief looked out of the upper window. When the sun had‘Shaken out of destiny’s dice-box again into your company, raised his full disc above the flat line of the horizon, and was strikingfire out of the long muddy vista of paved road with its wearyeh? By Heaven! So much the better for you. You’ll profit by it.I shall need a long rest. Let me sleep in the morning.’ avenue of little trees, a black speck moved along the road andJohn Baptist replied that he should sleep as long as he would, splashed among the flaming pools of rain-water, which black speckand wishing him a happy night, put out the candle. One might have was John Baptist Cavalletto running away from his patron.134

Little Dorrit – Book Oneand about, tortuously ascending to the level again. At this endCHAPTER 12 Bleeding Heart Yardof the Yard and over the gateway, was the factory of DanielDoyce, often heavily beating like a bleeding heart of iron, withIN LONDON ITSELF, though in the old rustic road towards athe clink of metal upon metal. The opinion of the Yard wassuburb of note where in the days of William Shakespeare,divided respecting the derivation of its name. The more practicalof its inmates abided by the tradition of a murder; theauthor and stage-player, there were Royal hunting-seats—howbeit no sport is left there now but for hunters of men—gentler and more imaginative inhabitants, including the wholeBleeding Heart Yard was to be found; a place much changedof the tender sex, were loyal to the legend of a young lady ofin feature and in fortune, yet with some relish of ancient greatnessabout it. Two or three mighty stacks of chimneys, and aformer times closely imprisoned in her chamber by a cruelfather for remaining true to her own true love, and refusing tofew large dark rooms which had escaped being walled andmarry the suitor he chose for her. The legend related how thatsubdivided out of the recognition of their old proportions, gavethe young lady used to be seen up at her window behind thethe Yard a character. It was inhabited by poor people, whobars, murmuring a love-lorn song of which the burden was,set up their rest among its faded glories, as Arabs of the desert‘Bleeding Heart, Bleeding Heart, bleeding away,’ until she died.pitch their tents among the fallen stones of the Pyramids; butIt was objected by the murderous party that this Refrain wasthere was a family sentimental feeling prevalent in the Yard,notoriously the invention of a tambour-worker, a spinster andthat it had a character.romantic, still lodging in the Yard. But, forasmuch as all favouriteAs if the aspiring city had become puffed up in the very groundlegends must be associated with the affections, and as manyon which it stood, the ground had so risen about Bleedingmore people fall in love than commit murder—which it may beHeart Yard that you got into it down a flight of steps whichhoped, howsoever bad we are, will continue until the end offormed no part of the original approach, and got out of it by athe world to be the dispensation under which we shall live—low gateway into a maze of shabby streets, which went about135

Charles Dickensthe Bleeding Heart, Bleeding Heart, bleeding away story, carriedthe day by a great majority. Neither party would listen to habitation, was a large house, let off to various tenants; butBleeding Heart Yard which she had described as his place ofthe antiquaries who delivered learned lectures in the Plornish ingeniously hinted that he lived in the parlour, by meansneighbourhood, showing the Bleeding Heart to have been the of a painted hand under his name, the forefinger of which handheraldic cognisance of the old family to whom the property (on which the artist had depicted a ring and a most elaboratehad once belonged. And, considering that the hour-glass they nail of the genteelest form) referred all inquirers to that apartment.turned from year to year was filled with the earthiest and coarsestsand, the Bleeding Heart Yarders had reason enough for Parting from his companions, after arranging another meetingwith Mr Meagles, Clennam went alone into the entry, andobjecting to be despoiled of the one little golden grain of poetrythat sparkled in it.knocked with his knuckles at the parlour-door. It was openedDown in to the Yard, by way of the steps, came Daniel presently by a woman with a child in her arms, whose unoccupiedhand was hastily rearranging the upper part of her dress.Doyce, Mr Meagles, and Clennam. Passing along the Yard,and between the open doors on either hand, all abundantly This was Mrs Plornish, and this maternal action was the actiongarnished with light children nursing heavy ones, they arrived of Mrs Plornish during a large part of her waking existence.at its opposite boundary, the gateway. Here Arthur Clennam Was Mr Plornish at home? ‘Well, sir,’ said Mrs Plornish, astopped to look about him for the domicile of Plornish, plasterer,whose name, according to the custom of Londoners, ‘Not to deceive you’ was a method of speech with Mrscivil woman, ‘not to deceive you, he’s gone to look for a job.’Daniel Doyce had never seen or heard of to that hour. Plornish. She would deceive you, under any circumstances, asIt was plain enough, nevertheless, as Little Dorrit had said; little as might be; but she had a trick of answering in this provisionalform.over a lime-splashed gateway in the corner, within whichPlornish kept a ladder and a barrel or two. The last house in ‘Do you think he will be back soon, if I wait for him?’136

Little Dorrit – Book One‘I have been expecting him,’ said Mrs Plornish, ‘this half an She asked it so anxiously, that if he had been in possessionhour, at any minute of time. Walk in, sir.’ Arthur entered the of any kind of tenement, he would have had it plastered a footrather dark and close parlour (though it was lofty too), and sat deep rather than answer No. But he was obliged to answerdown in the chair she placed for him.No; and he saw a shade of disappointment on her face, as she‘Not to deceive you, sir, I notice it,’ said Mrs Plornish, ‘and checked a sigh, and looked at the low fire. Then he saw, also,I take it kind of you.’that Mrs Plornish was a young woman, made somewhat slatternlyin herself and her belongings by poverty; and so draggedHe was at a loss to understand what she meant; and byexpressing as much in his looks, elicited her explanation. at by poverty and the children together, that their united forces‘It ain’t many that comes into a poor place, that deems it had already dragged her face into wrinkles.worth their while to move their hats,’ said Mrs Plornish. ‘But ‘All such things as jobs,’ said Mrs Plornish, ‘seems to me topeople think more of it than people think.’have gone underground, they do indeed.’ (Herein Mrs PlornishClennam returned, with an uncomfortable feeling in so very limited her remark to the plastering trade, and spoke without referenceto the Circumlocution Office and the Barnacle Family.)slight a courtesy being unusual, Was that all! And stoopingdown to pinch the cheek of another young child who was sittingon the floor, staring at him, asked Mrs Plornish how old ‘Plornish finds it so,’ she returned. ‘He is quite unfortunate.‘Is it so difficult to get work?’ asked Arthur Clennam.that fine boy was?Really he is.’ Really he was. He was one of those many wayfarerson the road of life, who seem to be afflicted with super-‘Four year just turned, sir,’ said Mrs Plornish. ‘He IS a finelittle fellow, ain’t he, sir? But this one is rather sickly.’ She natural corns, rendering it impossible for them to keep up eventenderly hushed the baby in her arms, as she said it. ‘You with their lame competitors.wouldn’t mind my asking if it happened to be a job as you was A willing, working, soft hearted, not hard-headed fellow,come about, sir, would you?’ asked Mrs Plornish wistfully. Plornish took his fortune as smoothly as could be expected;137

Charles Dickensbut it was a rough one. It so rarely happened that anybody with their watchfulness in out-generalling all other high old familiesexcept the Stiltstalkings.seemed to want him, it was such an exceptional case when hispowers were in any request, that his misty mind could not While Mrs Plornish spoke in these words of her absent lord,make out how it happened. He took it as it came, therefore; her lord returned. A smooth-cheeked, fresh-coloured, sandywhiskeredman of thirty. Long in the legs, yielding at the knees,he tumbled into all kinds of difficulties, and tumbled out ofthem; and, by tumbling through life, got himself considerably foolish in the face, flannel-jacketed, lime-whitened.bruised.‘This is Plornish, sir.’‘It’s not for want of looking after jobs, I am sure,’ said Mrs ‘I came,’ said Clennam, rising, ‘to beg the favour of a littlePlornish, lifting up her eyebrows, and searching for a solution conversation with you on the subject of the Dorrit family.’of the problem between the bars of the grate; ‘nor yet for want Plornish became suspicious. Seemed to scent a creditor. Said,of working at them when they are to be got. No one ever ‘Ah, yes. Well. He didn’t know what satisfaction he couldheard my husband complain of work.’give any gentleman, respecting that family. What might it beSomehow or other, this was the general misfortune of BleedingHeart Yard. From time to time there were public com-‘I know you better,’ said Clennam, smiling, ‘than you sup-about, now?’plaints, pathetically going about, of labour being scarce—which pose.’certain people seemed to take extraordinarily ill, as though Plornish observed, not Smiling in return, And yet he hadn’tthey had an absolute right to it on their own terms—but Bleeding the pleasure of being acquainted with the gentleman, neither.Heart Yard, though as willing a Yard as any in Britain, was ‘No,’ said Arthur, ‘I know your kind offices at second hand,never the better for the demand. That high old family, the Barnacles,had long been too busy with their great principle to explained, ‘Miss Dorrit.’but on the best authority; through Little Dorrit.—I mean,’ helook into the matter; and indeed the matter had nothing to do ‘Mr Clennam, is it? Oh! I’ve heard of you, Sir.’138

Little Dorrit – Book One‘And I of you,’ said Arthur.pitied or despised, ‘not aware that Miss Dorrit and her sister‘Please to sit down again, Sir, and consider yourself welcome.—Why,yes,’ said Plornish, taking a chair, and lifting the Plornish, looking with a ridiculous triumph first at his wife, anddursn’t let him know that they work for a living. No!’ saidelder child upon his knee, that he might have the moral support then all round the room. ‘Dursn’t let him know it, they dursn’t!’of speaking to a stranger over his head, ‘I have been on the ‘Without admiring him for that,’ Clennam quietly observed,wrong side of the Lock myself, and in that way we come to ‘I am very sorry for him.’ The remark appeared to suggest toknow Miss Dorrit. Me and my wife, we are well acquainted Plornish, for the first time, that it might not be a very fine trait ofwith Miss Dorrit.’ ‘Intimate!’ cried Mrs Plornish. Indeed, she character after all. He pondered about it for a moment, andwas so proud of the acquaintance, that she had awakened gave it up.some bitterness of spirit in the Yard by magnifying to an enormousamount the sum for which Miss Dorrit’s father had be-with me, I am sure, as I can possibly expect. Considering the‘As to me,’ he resumed, ‘certainly Mr Dorrit is as affablecome insolvent. The Bleeding Hearts resented her claiming to differences and distances betwixt us, more so. But it’s Missknow people of such distinction.Dorrit that we were speaking of.’‘It was her father that I got acquainted with first. And through ‘True. Pray how did you introduce her at my mother’s!’getting acquainted with him, you see—why—I got acquainted Mr Plornish picked a bit of lime out of his whisker, put itwith her,’ said Plornish tautologically.between his lips, turned it with his tongue like a sugar-plum,‘I see.’considered, found himself unequal to the task of lucid explanation,and appealing to his wife, said, ‘Sally, you may as well‘Ah! And there’s manners! There’s polish! There’s a gentlemanto have run to seed in the Marshalsea jail! Why, perhaps mention how it was, old woman.’you are not aware,’ said Plornish, lowering his voice, and ‘Miss Dorrit,’ said Sally, hushing the baby from side to side,speaking with a perverse admiration of what he ought to have and laying her chin upon the little hand as it tried to disarrange139

Charles Dickensthe gown again, ‘came here one afternoon with a bit of writing, the subject with a slow thoughtfulness that appeared to havetelling that how she wished for needlework, and asked if it no connection with any specific object, and to lead him nowhere,‘that is about what they are, you may believe me orwould be considered any ill-conwenience in case she was togive her address here.’ (Plornish repeated, her address here, not, as you think proper.’in a low voice, as if he were making responses at church.) ‘Me ‘Ay?’ returned Clennam, thoughtful in his turn. ‘Mr Casby,and Plornish says, No, Miss Dorrit, no ill-conwenience,’ too! An old acquaintance of mine, long ago!’(Plornish repeated, no ill-conwenience,) ‘and she wrote it in, Mr Plornish did not see his road to any comment on thisaccording. Which then me and Plornish says, Ho Miss Dorrit!’ fact, and made none. As there truly was no reason why he(Plornish repeated, Ho Miss Dorrit.) ‘Have you thought of should have the least interest in it, Arthur Clennam went on tocopying it three or four times, as the way to make it known in the present purport of his visit; namely, to make Plornish themore places than one? No, says Miss Dorrit, I have not, but I instrument of effecting Tip’s release, with as little detriment aswill. She copied it out according, on this table, in a sweet writing,and Plornish, he took it where he worked, having a job man, supposing him to possess any remnant of those qualities:possible to the self-reliance and self-helpfulness of the youngjust then,’ (Plornish repeated job just then,) ‘and likewise to without doubt a very wide stretch of supposition. Plornish,the landlord of the Yard; through which it was that Mrs Clennam having been made acquainted with the cause of action fromfirst happened to employ Miss Dorrit.’ Plornish repeated, the Defendant’s own mouth, gave Arthur to understand thatemploy Miss Dorrit; and Mrs Plornish having come to an end, the Plaintiff was a ‘Chaunter’—meaning, not a singer of anthems,but a seller of horses—and that he (Plornish) consid-feigned to bite the fingers of the little hand as she kissed it.‘The landlord of the Yard,’ said Arthur Clennam, ‘is—’ ered that ten shillings in the pound ‘would settle handsome,’‘He is Mr Casby, by name, he is,’ said Plornish, ‘and Pancks, and that more would be a waste of money. The Principal andhe collects the rents. That,’ added Mr Plornish, dwelling on instrument soon drove off together to a stable-yard in High140

Little Dorrit – Book OneHolborn, where a remarkably fine grey gelding, worth, at the from appearances that he meant business, and might be inducedto talk to him. On this hint, Mr Plornish retired to com-lowest figure, seventy-five guineas (not taking into account thevalue of the shot he had been made to swallow for the improvementof his form), was to be parted with for a twenty-required credentials. Then said Captain Maroon, ‘Now, howmunicate with his Principal, and presently came back with thepound note, in consequence of his having run away last week much time do you want to make the other twenty in? Now, I’llwith Mrs Captain Barbary of Cheltenham, who wasn’t up to a give you a month.’ Then said Captain Maroon, when thathorse of his courage, and who, in mere spite, insisted on sellinghim for that ridiculous sum: or, in other words, on giving get me a good bill at four months, made payable at a banking-wouldn’t suit, ‘Now, I’ll tell what I’ll do with you. You shallhim away. Plornish, going up this yard alone and leaving his house, for the other twenty!’ Then said Captain Maroon, whenPrincipal outside, found a gentleman with tight drab legs, a that wouldn’t suit, ‘Now, come; Here’s the last I’ve got torather old hat, a little hooked stick, and a blue neckerchief say to you. You shall give me another ten down, and I’ll run(Captain Maroon of Gloucestershire, a private friend of CaptainBarbary); who happened to be there, in a friendly way, to that wouldn’t suit, ‘Now, I’ll tell you what it is, and this shutsmy pen clean through it.’ Then said Captain Maroon whenmention these little circumstances concerning the remarkably it up; he has used me bad, but I’ll let him off for another fivefine grey gelding to any real judge of a horse and quick snapper-upof a good thing, who might look in at that address as and if you don’t like it, leave it.’ Finally said Captain Maroon,down and a bottle of wine; and if you mean done, say done,per advertisement. This gentleman, happening also to be the when that wouldn’t suit either, ‘Hand over, then!’—And inPlaintiff in the Tip case, referred Mr Plornish to his solicitor, consideration of the first offer, gave a receipt in full and dischargedthe prisoner.and declined to treat with Mr Plornish, or even to endure hispresence in the yard, unless he appeared there with a twentypoundnote: in which case only, the gentleman would augur keep my secret. If you will undertake to let the young‘Mr Plornish,’ said Arthur, ‘I trust to you, if you please, toman141

Charles Dickensknow that he is free, and to tell him that you were employed to Principal was in the same mind. So his Principal offered to setcompound for the debt by some one whom you are not at him down at the Marshalsea Gate, and they drove in that directionover Blackfriars Bridge. On the way, Arthur elicitedliberty to name, you will not only do me a service, but may dohim one, and his sister also.’from his new friend a confused summary of the interior life of‘The last reason, sir,’ said Plornish, ‘would be quite sufficient.Your wishes shall be attended to.’said, uncommon hard up, to be sure. Well, he couldn’t sayBleeding Heart Yard. They was all hard up there, Mr Plornish‘A Friend has obtained his discharge, you can say if you how it was; he didn’t know as anybody could say how it was;please. A Friend who hopes that for his sister’s sake, if for no all he know’d was, that so it was.one else’s, he will make good use of his liberty.’When a man felt, on his own back and in his own belly, that‘Your wishes, sir, shall be attended to.’poor he was, that man (Mr Plornish gave it as his decided‘And if you will be so good, in your better knowledge of the belief) know’d well that he was poor somehow or another,family, as to communicate freely with me, and to point out to and you couldn’t talk it out of him, no more than you couldme any means by which you think I may be delicately and talk Beef into him. Then you see, some people as was betterreally useful to Little Dorrit, I shall feel under an obligation to off said, and a good many such people lived pretty close up toyou.’the mark themselves if not beyond it so he’d heerd, that they‘Don’t name it, sir,’ returned Plornish, ‘it’ll be ekally a pleasurean a—it’l be ekally a pleasure and a—’ Finding himself For instance, if they see a man with his wife and children goingwas ‘improvident’(that was the favourite word) down the Yard.unable to balance his sentence after two efforts, Mr Plornish to Hampton Court in a Wan, perhaps once in a year, theywisely dropped it. He took Clennam’s card and appropriate says, ‘Hallo! I thought you was poor, my improvident friend!’pecuniary compliment.Why, Lord, how hard it was upon a man! What was a man toHe was earnest to finish his commission at once, and his do? He couldn’t go mollancholy mad, and even if he did, you142

Little Dorrit – Book Onewouldn’t be the better for it. In Mr Plornish’s judgment you come right of itself. And, in brief, his illogical opinion was, thatwould be the worse for it. Yet you seemed to want to make a if you couldn’t do nothing for him, you had better take nothingman mollancholy mad. You was always at it—if not with your from him for doing of it; so far as he could make out, that wasright hand, with your left. What was they a doing in the Yard? about what it come to. Thus, in a prolix, gently-growling, foolishway, did Plornish turn the tangled skein of his estate aboutWhy, take a look at ‘em and see. There was the girls and theirmothers a working at their sewing, or their shoe-binding, or and about, like a blind man who was trying to find some beginningor end to it; until they reached the prison gate. There,their trimming, or their waistcoat making, day and night andnight and day, and not more than able to keep body and soul he left his Principal alone; to wonder, as he rode away, howtogether after all—often not so much. There was people of many thousand Plornishes there might be within a day or two’spretty well all sorts of trades you could name, all wanting to journey of the Circumlocution Office, playing sundry curiouswork, and yet not able to get it. There was old people, after variations on the same tune, which were not known by ear inworking all their lives, going and being shut up in the workhouse,much worse fed and lodged and treated altogether,that glorious institution.than—Mr Plornish said manufacturers, but appeared to meanCHAPTER 13 Patriarchalmalefactors. Why, a man didn’t know where to turn himselffor a crumb of comfort. As to who was to blame for it, MrTHE MENTION OF MR CASBY again revived in Clennam’s memoryPlornish didn’t know who was to blame for it. He could tellthe smouldering embers of curiosity and interest which Mrsyou who suffered, but he couldn’t tell you whose fault it was.Flintwinch had fanned on the night of his arrival. Flora CasbyIt wasn’t HIS place to find out, and who’d mind what he said,had been the beloved of his boyhood; and Flora was the daughterand only child of wooden-headed old Christopher (so heif he did find out? He only know’d that it wasn’t put right bythem what undertook that line of business, and that it didn’twas still occasionally spoken of by some irreverent spirits who143

Charles Dickenshad had dealings with him, and in whom familiarity had bred its a street in the Gray’s Inn Road, which had set off from thatproverbial result perhaps), who was reputed to be rich in thoroughfare with the intention of running at one heat downweekly tenants, and to get a good quantity of blood out of the into the valley, and up again to the top of Pentonville Hill; butstones of several unpromising courts and alleys. After some which had run itself out of breath in twenty yards, and haddays of inquiry and research, Arthur Clennam became convincedthat the case of the Father of the Marshalsea was in-but it remained there for many years, looking with a baulkedstood still ever since. There is no such place in that part now;deed a hopeless one, and sorrowfully resigned the idea of helpinghim to freedom again. He had no hopeful inquiry to make and pimpled with eruptive summerhouses, that it had meant tocountenance at the wilderness patched with unfruitful gardensat present, concerning Little Dorrit either; but he argued with run over in no time.himself that it might—for anything he knew—it might be serviceableto the poor child, if he renewed this acquaintance. It ‘is as little changed as my mother’s, and looks almost as gloomy.‘The house,’ thought Clennam, as he crossed to the door,is hardly necessary to add that beyond all doubt he would But the likeness ends outside. I know its staid repose within.have presented himself at Mr Casby’s door, if there had been The smell of its jars of old rose-leaves and lavender seems tono Little Dorrit in existence; for we all know how we all deceiveourselves—that is to say, how people in general, our When his knock at the bright brass knocker of obsoletecome upon me even here.’profounder selves excepted, deceive themselves—as to motivesof action.in truth saluted him like wintry breath that had a faint remem-shape brought a woman-servant to the door, those faded scentsWith a comfortable impression upon him, and quite an honestone in its way, that he was still patronising Little Dorrit in silent, air-tight house—one might have fancied it to have beenbrance in it of the bygone spring. He stepped into the sober,doing what had no reference to her, he found himself one afternoonat the corner of Mr Casby’s street. Mr Casby lived in again, seemed to shut out sound and motion. Thestifled by Mutes in the Eastern manner—and the door, closingfurniture144

Little Dorrit – Book Onewas formal, grave, and quaker-like, but well-kept; and had as so troublesome for the imagination to picture as a boy. Andprepossessing an aspect as anything, from a human creature yet he had changed very little in his progress through life. Confrontinghim, in the room in which he sat, was a boy’s portrait,to a wooden stool, that is meant for much use and is preservedfor little, can ever wear. There was a grave clock, ticking somewhereup the staircase; and there was a songless bird in the Christopher Casby, aged ten: though disguised with awhich anybody seeing him would have identified as Mastersame direction, pecking at his cage, as if he were ticking too. haymaking rake, for which he had had, at any time, as muchThe parlour-fire ticked in the grate. There was only one personon the parlour-hearth, and the loud watch in his pocket legs) upon a bank of violets, moved to precocious contempla-taste or use as for a diving-bell; and sitting (on one of his ownticked audibly.tion by the spire of a village church. There was the same smoothThe servant-maid had ticked the two words ‘Mr Clennam’ face and forehead, the same calm blue eye, the same placidso softly that she had not been heard; and he consequently air. The shining bald head, which looked so very large becauseit shone so much; and the long grey hair at its sides andstood, within the door she had closed, unnoticed. The figureof a man advanced in life, whose smooth grey eyebrows back, like floss silk or spun glass, which looked so very benevolentbecause it was never cut; were not, of course, to beseemed to move to the ticking as the fire-light flickered onthem, sat in an arm-chair, with his list shoes on the rug, and his seen in the boy as in the old man. Nevertheless, in the Seraphiccreature with the haymaking rake, were clearly to bethumbs slowly revolving over one another. This was old ChristopherCasby—recognisable at a glance—as unchanged in discerned the rudiments of the Patriarch with the list shoes.twenty years and upward as his own solid furniture—as little Patriarch was the name which many people delighted to givetouched by the influence of the varying seasons as the old roseleavesand old lavender in his porcelain jars.The Last of the Patriarchs. So grey, so slow, so quiet, sohim. Various old ladies in the neighbourhood spoke of him asPerhaps there never was a man, in this troublesome world, impassionate, so very bumpy in the head, Patriarch was the145

Charles Dickensword for him. He had been accosted in the streets, and respectfullysolicited to become a Patriarch for painters and for last words, having perhaps prepared himself for the visitor’sMr Casby seemed a feather’s weight disappointed by thesculptors; with so much importunity, in sooth, that it would wishing to pay something else. ‘Have I the pleasure, sir,’ heappear to be beyond the Fine Arts to remember the points of proceeded—’take a chair, if you please—have I the pleasurea Patriarch, or to invent one. Philanthropists of both sexes had of knowing—? Ah! truly, yes, I think I have! I believe I am notasked who he was, and on being informed, ‘Old Christopher mistaken in supposing that I am acquainted with those features?I think I address a gentleman of whose return to thisCasby, formerly Town-agent to Lord Decimus Tite Barnacle,’had cried in a rapture of disappointment, ‘Oh! why, with that country I was informed by Mr Flintwinch?’head, is he not a benefactor to his species! Oh! why, with that ‘That is your present visitor.’head, is he not a father to the orphan and a friend to the friendless!’With that head, however, he remained old Christopher ‘No other, Mr Casby.’‘Really! Mr Clennam?’Casby, proclaimed by common report rich in house property; ‘Mr Clennam, I am glad to see you. How have you beenand with that head, he now sat in his silent parlour. Indeed it since we met?’would be the height of unreason to expect him to be sitting Without thinking it worth while to explain that in the coursethere without that head.of some quarter of a century he had experienced occasionalArthur Clennam moved to attract his attention, and the grey slight fluctuations in his health and spirits, Clennam answeredeyebrows turned towards him.generally that he had never been better, or something equally‘I beg your pardon,’ said Clennam, ‘I fear you did not hear to the purpose; and shook hands with the possessor of ‘thatme announced?’head’ as it shed its patriarchal light upon him.‘No, sir, I did not. Did you wish to see me, sir?’‘We are older, Mr Clennam,’ said Christopher Casby.‘I wished to pay my respects.’‘We are—not younger,’ said Clennam. After this wise re-146

Little Dorrit – Book Onemark he felt that he was scarcely shining with brilliancy, and and strength of mind with which she bears her trials, bears herbecame aware that he was nervous.trials.’ When he made one of these little repetitions, sitting with‘And your respected father,’ said Mr Casby, ‘is no more! I his hands crossed before him, he did it with his head on onewas grieved to hear it, Mr Clennam, I was grieved.’ side, and a gentle smile, as if he had something in his thoughtsArthur replied in the usual way that he felt infinitely obliged too sweetly profound to be put into words. As if he deniedto him.himself the pleasure of uttering it, lest he should soar too high;‘There was a time,’ said Mr Casby, ‘when your parents and and his meekness therefore preferred to be unmeaning.myself were not on friendly terms. There was a little family ‘I have heard that you were kind enough on one of thosemisunderstanding among us. Your respected mother was rather occasions,’ said Arthur, catching at the opportunity as it driftedjealous of her son, maybe; when I say her son, I mean your past him, ‘to mention Little Dorrit to my mother.’worthy self, your worthy self.’‘Little—Dorrit? That’s the seamstress who was mentionedHis smooth face had a bloom upon it like ripe wall-fruit. to me by a small tenant of mine? Yes, yes. Dorrit? That’s theWhat with his blooming face, and that head, and his blue eyes, name. Ah, yes, yes! You call her Little Dorrit?’he seemed to be delivering sentiments of rare wisdom and No road in that direction. Nothing came of the cross-cut. Itvirtue. In like manner, his physiognomical expression seemed led no further.to teem with benignity. Nobody could have said where the ‘My daughter Flora,’ said Mr Casby, ‘as you may have heardwisdom was, or where the virtue was, or where the benignity probably, Mr Clennam, was married and established in life,was; but they all seemed to be somewhere about him. ‘Those several years ago. She had the misfortune to lose her husbandtimes, however,’ pursued Mr Casby, ‘are past and gone, past when she had been married a few months. She resides withand gone. I do myself the pleasure of making a visit to your me again. She will be glad to see you, if you will permit me torespected mother occasionally, and of admiring the fortitude let her know that you are here.’147

Charles Dickens‘By all means,’ returned Clennam. ‘I should have preferred about. ‘He will be here directly, if you want him.’the request, if your kindness had not anticipated me.’‘I want him?’ said the short dark man. ‘Don’t you?’ ThisUpon this Mr Casby rose up in his list shoes, and with a elicited a word or two of explanation from Clennam, duringslow, heavy step (he was of an elephantine build), made for the delivery of which the short dark man held his breath andthe door. He had a long wide-skirted bottle-green coat on, looked at him. He was dressed in black and rusty iron grey;and a bottle-green pair of trousers, and a bottle-green waistcoat.The Patriarchs were not dressed in bottle-green broad-black hair striking out from his head in prongs, like forks orhad jet black beads of eyes; a scrubby little black chin; wirycloth, and yet his clothes looked patriarchal.hair-pins; and a complexion that was very dingy by nature, orHe had scarcely left the room, and allowed the ticking to very dirty by art, or a compound of nature and art. He hadbecome audible again, when a quick hand turned a latchkey in dirty hands and dirty broken nails, and looked as if he hadthe house-door, opened it, and shut it. Immediately afterwards, been in the coals; he was in a perspiration, and snorted anda quick and eager short dark man came into the room with so sniffed and puffed and blew, like a little labouring steam-engine.much way upon him that he was within a foot of Clennambefore he could stop.‘Oh!’ said he, when Arthur told him how he came to be‘Halloa!’ he said.there. ‘Very well. That’s right. If he should ask for Pancks, willClennam saw no reason why he should not say ‘Halloa!’ you be so good as to say that Pancks is come in?’ And so,too.with a snort and a puff, he worked out by another door.‘What’s the matter?’ said the short dark man.Now, in the old days at home, certain audacious doubts respectingthe last of the Patriarchs, which were afloat in the air,‘I have not heard that anything is the matter,’ returnedClennam.had, by some forgotten means, come in contact with Arthur’s‘Where’s Mr Casby?’ asked the short dark man, looking sensorium. He was aware of motes and specks of suspicion in148

Little Dorrit – Book Onethe atmosphere of that time; seen through which medium, ChristopherCasby was a mere Inn signpost, without any Inn—an painters, just now mentioned, select theirs; and that, whereasparlour) that many people select their models, much as theinvitation to rest and be thankful, when there was no place to in the Royal Academy some evil old ruffian of a Dog-stealerput up at, and nothing whatever to be thankful for. He knew will annually be found embodying all the cardinal virtues, onthat some of these specks even represented Christopher as account of his eyelashes, or his chin, or his legs (thereby plantingthorns of confusion in the breasts of the more observantcapable of harbouring designs in ‘that head,’ and as being acrafty impostor. Other motes there were which showed him students of nature), so, in the great social Exhibition, accessoriesare often accepted in lieu of the internal character.as a heavy, selfish, drifting Booby, who, having stumbled, inthe course of his unwieldy jostlings against other men, on the Calling these things to mind, and ranging Mr Pancks in adiscovery that to get through life with ease and credit, he had row with them, Arthur Clennam leaned this day to the opinion,but to hold his tongue, keep the bald part of his head well without quite deciding on it, that the last of the Patriarchs waspolished, and leave his hair alone, had had just cunning enough the drifting Booby aforesaid, with the one idea of keeping theto seize the idea and stick to it. It was said that his being townagentto Lord Decimus Tite Barnacle was referable, not to his unwieldy ship in the Thames river may sometimes be seenbald part of his head highly polished: and that, much as anhaving the least business capacity, but to his looking so supremelybenignant that nobody could suppose the property own way and in the way of everything else, though making aheavily driving with the tide, broadside on, stern first, in itsscrewed or jobbed under such a man; also, that for similar great show of navigation, when all of a sudden, a little coalyreasons he now got more money out of his own wretched steam-tug will bear down upon it, take it in tow, and bustle offlettings, unquestioned, than anybody with a less nobby and with it; similarly the cumbrous Patriarch had been taken in towless shining crown could possibly have done. In a word, it was by the snorting Pancks, and was now following in the wake ofrepresented (Clennam called to mind, alone in the ticking that dingy little craft.149

Charles DickensThe return of Mr Casby with his daughter Flora, put an end short of breath; but that was not much. Flora, whom he hadto these meditations. Clennam’s eyes no sooner fell upon the left a lily, had become a peony; but that was not much. Flora,subject of his old passion than it shivered and broke to pieces. who had seemed enchanting in all she said and thought, wasMost men will be found sufficiently true to themselves to be diffuse and silly. That was much. Flora, who had been spoiledtrue to an old idea. It is no proof of an inconstant mind, but and artless long ago, was determined to be spoiled and artlessexactly the opposite, when the idea will not bear close comparisonwith the reality, and the contrast is a fatal shock to it. This is Flora!now. That was a fatal blow.Such was Clennam’s case. In his youth he had ardently loved ‘I am sure,’ giggled Flora, tossing her head with a caricaturethis woman, and had heaped upon her all the locked-up wealth of her girlish manner, such as a mummer might have presentedof his affection and imagination. That wealth had been, in his at her own funeral, if she had lived and died in classical antiquity,‘I am ashamed to see Mr Clennam, I am a mere fright, Idesert home, like Robinson Crusoe’s money; exchangeablewith no one, lying idle in the dark to rust, until he poured it out know he’ll find me fearfully changed, I am actually an oldfor her. Ever since that memorable time, though he had, until woman, it’s shocking to be found out, it’s really shocking!’the night of his arrival, as completely dismissed her from any He assured her that she was just what he had expected andassociation with his Present or Future as if she had been dead that time had not stood still with himself.(which she might easily have been for anything he knew), he ‘Oh! But with a gentleman it’s so different and really youhad kept the old fancy of the Past unchanged, in its old sacred look so amazingly well that you have no right to say anythingplace. And now, after all, the last of the Patriarchs coolly walked of the kind, while, as to me, you know—oh!’ cried Flora withinto the parlour, saying in effect, ‘Be good enough to throw it a little scream, ‘I am dreadful!’down and dance upon it. This is Flora.’The Patriarch, apparently not yet understanding his own partFlora, always tall, had grown to be very broad too, and in the drama under representation, glowed with vacant serenity.150

Little Dorrit – Book One‘But if we talk of not having changed,’ said Flora, who, whatevershe said, never once came to a full stop, ‘look at Papa, is be far more proper—but I am sure I don’t know what I amArthur—I mean Mr Arthur—or I suppose Mr Clennam wouldnot Papa precisely what he was when you went away, isn’t it saying—without a word about the dear old days gone for ever,cruel and unnatural of Papa to be such a reproach to his own when I come to think of it I dare say it would be much betterchild, if we go on in this way much longer people who don’t not to speak of them and it’s highly probable that you haveknow us will begin to suppose that I am Papa’s Mama!’ some much more agreeable engagement and pray let Me beThat must be a long time hence, Arthur considered. the last person in the world to interfere with it though there‘Oh Mr Clennam you insincerest of creatures,’ said Flora, was a time, but I am running into nonsense again.’‘I perceive already you have not lost your old way of paying Was it possible that Flora could have been such a chatterercompliments, your old way when you used to pretend to be so in the days she referred to? Could there have been anythingsentimentally struck you know—at least I don’t mean that, like her present disjointed volubility in the fascinations that hadI—oh I don’t know what I mean!’ Here Flora tittered confusedly,and gave him one of her old glances.‘Indeed I have little doubt,’ said Flora, running on with as-captivated him?The Patriarch, as if he now began to perceive that his part in tonishing speed, and pointing her conversation with nothingthe piece was to get off the stage as soon as might be, rose, but commas, and very few of them, ‘that you are married toand went to the door by which Pancks had worked out, hailingthat Tug by name. He received an answer from some little ness and naturally desirous to settle and extend your connec-some Chinese lady, being in China so long and being in busi-Dock beyond, and was towed out of sight directly.tion nothing was more likely than that you should propose to a‘You mustn’t think of going yet,’ said Flora—Arthur had Chinese lady and nothing was more natural I am sure than thatlooked at his hat, being in a ludicrous dismay, and not knowing the Chinese lady should accept you and think herself very wellwhat to do: ‘you could never be so unkind as to think of going, off too, I only hope she’s not a Pagodian dissenter.’151

Charles Dickens‘I am not,’ returned Arthur, smiling in spite of himself, ‘marriedto any lady, Flora.’the feet screwed back in infancy is quite surprising, what aries them and hangs them everywhere, the little shoes too and‘Oh good gracious me I hope you never kept yourself a traveller you are!’bachelor so long on my account!’ tittered Flora; ‘but of course In his ridiculous distress, Clennam received another of theyou never did why should you, pray don’t answer, I don’t old glances without in the least knowing what to do with it.know where I’m running to, oh do tell me something about the ‘Dear dear,’ said Flora, ‘only to think of the changes at homeChinese ladies whether their eyes are really so long and narrowalways putting me in mind of mother-of-pearl fish at cards Clennam far more proper—since you became familiar withArthur—cannot overcome it, and seems so natural, Mrand do they really wear tails down their back and plaited too the Chinese customs and language which I am persuaded youor is it only the men, and when they pull their hair so very tight speak like a Native if not better for you were always quickoff their foreheads don’t they hurt themselves, and why do and clever though immensely difficult no doubt, I am sure thethey stick little bells all over their bridges and temples and hats tea chests alone would kill me if I tried, such changes Arthur—and things or don’t they really do it?’ Flora gave him another I am doing it again, seems so natural, most improper—as noof her old glances. Instantly she went on again, as if he had one could have believed, who could have ever imagined Mrsspoken in reply for some time.Finching when I can’t imagine it myself!’‘Then it’s all true and they really do! good gracious Arthur!— ‘Is that your married name?’ asked Arthur, struck, in thepray excuse me—old habit—Mr Clennam far more proper— midst of all this, by a certain warmth of heart that expressedwhat a country to live in for so long a time, and with so many itself in her tone when she referred, however oddly, to thelanterns and umbrellas too how very dark and wet the climate youthful relation in which they had stood to one another.ought to be and no doubt actually is, and the sums of money ‘Finching?’that must be made by those two trades where everybody car-‘Finching oh yes isn’t it a dreadful name, but as Mr F. said152

Little Dorrit – Book Onewhen he proposed to me which he did seven times and handsomelyconsented I must say to be what he used to call on but however I know you are disappointed in me, I suppose‘You don’t seem so,’ pouted Flora, ‘you take it very coolly,liking twelve months, after all, he wasn’t answerable for it and the Chinese ladies—Mandarinesses if you call them so—arecouldn’t help it could he, Excellent man, not at all like you but the cause or perhaps I am the cause myself, it’s just as likely.’excellent man!’‘No, no,’ Clennam entreated, ‘don’t say that.’Flora had at last talked herself out of breath for one moment. ‘Oh I must you know,’ said Flora, in a positive tone, ‘whatOne moment; for she recovered breath in the act of raising a nonsense not to, I know I am not what you expected, I knowminute corner of her pocket-handkerchief to her eye, as a tributeto the ghost of the departed Mr F., and began again. In the midst of her rapidity, she had found that out with thethat very well.’‘No one could dispute, Arthur—Mr Clennam—that it’s quite quick perception of a cleverer woman. The inconsistent andright you should be formally friendly to me under the altered profoundly unreasonable way in which she instantly went on,circumstances and indeed you couldn’t be anything else, at nevertheless, to interweave their long-abandoned boy and girlleast I suppose not you ought to know, but I can’t help recallingthat there was a time when things were very different.’ he were light-headed.relations with their present interview, made Clennam feel as if‘My dear Mrs Finching,’ Arthur began, struck by the good ‘One remark,’ said Flora, giving their conversation, withouttone again.the slightest notice and to the great terror of Clennam, the tone‘Oh not that nasty ugly name, say Flora!’of a love-quarrel, ‘I wish to make, one explanation I wish to‘Flora. I assure you, Flora, I am happy in seeing you once offer, when your Mama came and made a scene of it with mymore, and in finding that, like me, you have not forgotten the Papa and when I was called down into the little breakfastroomwhere they were looking at one another with yourold foolish dreams, when we saw all before us in the light ofour youth and hope.’Mama’s parasol between them seated on two chairs like mad153

Charles Dickensbulls what was I to do?’my words—when that dreary period had passed a lull succeededyears rolled on and Mr F. became acquainted with us‘My dear Mrs Finching,’ urged Clennam—’all so long agoand so long concluded, is it worth while seriously to—’ at a mutual friend’s, he was all attention he called next day he‘I can’t Arthur,’ returned Flora, ‘be denounced as heartless soon began to call three evenings a week and to send in littleby the whole society of China without setting myself right when things for supper it was not love on Mr F.’s part it was adoration,Mr F. proposed with the full approval of Papa and whatI have the opportunity of doing so, and you must be very wellaware that there was Paul and Virginia which had to be returnedand which was returned without note or comment, not ‘Nothing whatever,’ said Arthur, with the cheerfulest readi-could I do?’that I mean to say you could have written to me watched as I ness, ‘but what you did. Let an old friend assure you of his fullwas but if it had only come back with a red wafer on the cover conviction that you did quite right.’I should have known that it meant Come to Pekin Nankeen ‘One last remark,’ proceeded Flora, rejecting commonplaceand What’s the third place, barefoot.’life with a wave of her hand, ‘I wish to make, one last explanationI wish to offer, there was a time ere Mr F. first paid atten-‘My dear Mrs Finching, you were not to blame, and I neverblamed you. We were both too young, too dependent and tions incapable of being mistaken, but that is past and was nothelpless, to do anything but accept our separation.—Pray think to be, dear Mr Clennam you no longer wear a golden chainhow long ago,’ gently remonstrated Arthur. ‘One more remark,’proceeded Flora with unslackened volubility, ‘I wish always tiresome and putting in his nose everywhere where heyou are free I trust you may be happy, here is Papa who isto make, one more explanation I wish to offer, for five days I is not wanted.’had a cold in the head from crying which I passed entirely in With these words, and with a hasty gesture fraught with timidthe back drawing-room—there is the back drawing-room still caution—such a gesture had Clennam’s eyes been familiar withon the first floor and still at the back of the house to confirm in the old time—poor Flora left herself at eighteen years of154

Little Dorrit – Book Oneage, a long long way behind again; and came to a full stop at youthful actors were dead, when the orchestra was empty,last.when the lights were out. And still, through all this grotesqueOr rather, she left about half of herself at eighteen years of revival of what he remembered as having once been prettilyage behind, and grafted the rest on to the relict of the late Mr natural to her, he could not but feel that it revived at sight ofF.; thus making a moral mermaid of herself, which her once him, and that there was a tender memory in it.boy-lover contemplated with feelings wherein his sense of the The Patriarch insisted on his staying to dinner, and Florasorrowful and his sense of the comical were curiously blended. signalled ‘Yes!’ Clennam so wished he could have done moreFor example. As if there were a secret understanding betweenherself and Clennam of the most thrilling nature; as if the the Flora that had been, or that never had been—that he thoughtthan stay to dinner—so heartily wished he could have foundfirst of a train of post-chaises and four, extending all the way the least atonement he could make for the disappointment heto Scotland, were at that moment round the corner; and as if almost felt ashamed of, was to give himself up to the familyshe couldn’t (and wouldn’t) have walked into the Parish Church desire. Therefore, he stayed to dinner.with him, under the shade of the family umbrella, with the Patriarchalblessing on her head, and the perfect concurrence of dock at a quarter before six, and bore straight down for thePancks dined with them. Pancks steamed out of his littleall mankind; Flora comforted her soul with agonies of mysterioussignalling, expressing dread of discovery. With the sensaner,through a stagnant account of Bleeding Heart Yard. PancksPatriarch, who happened to be then driving, in an inane mantionof becoming more and more light-headed every minute, instantly made fast to him and hauled him out.Clennam saw the relict of the late Mr F. enjoying herself in the ‘Bleeding Heart Yard?’ said Pancks, with a puff and a snort.most wonderful manner, by putting herself and him in their old ‘It’s a troublesome property. Don’t pay you badly, but rentsplaces, and going through all the old performances—now, when are very hard to get there. You have more trouble with thatthe stage was dusty, when the scenery was faded, when the one place than with all the places belonging to you.’155

Charles DickensJust as the big ship in tow gets the credit, with most spectators,of being the powerful object, so the Patriarch usually when the week comes round hasn’t got the half-crown, you‘If a man takes a room of you at half-a-crown a week, andseemed to have said himself whatever Pancks said for him. say to that man, Why have you got the room, then? If you‘Indeed?’ returned Clennam, upon whom this impression haven’t got the one thing, why have you got the other? Whatwas so efficiently made by a mere gleam of the polished head have you been and done with your money? What do you meanthat he spoke the ship instead of the Tug. ‘The people are so by it? What are you up to? That’s what you say to a man ofpoor there?’that sort; and if you didn’t say it, more shame for you!’ Mr‘You can’t say, you know,’ snorted Pancks, taking one of Pancks here made a singular and startling noise, produced byhis dirty hands out of his rusty iron-grey pockets to bite his a strong blowing effort in the region of the nose, unattended bynails, if he could find any, and turning his beads of eyes upon any result but that acoustic one.his employer, ‘whether they’re poor or not. They say they are, ‘You have some extent of such property about the east andbut they all say that. When a man says he’s rich, you’re generallysure he isn’t. Besides, if they are poor, you can’t help it. the two to address.north-east here, I believe?’ said Clennam, doubtful which ofYou’d be poor yourself if you didn’t get your rents.’‘Oh, pretty well,’ said Pancks. ‘You’re not particular to east‘True enough,’ said Arthur.or north-east, any point of the compass will do for you. What‘You’re not going to keep open house for all the poor of you want is a good investment and a quick return. You take itLondon,’ pursued Pancks. ‘You’re not going to lodge ‘em for where you can find it. You ain’t nice as to situation—not you.’nothing. You’re not going to open your gates wide and let ‘em There was a fourth and most original figure in the Patriarchalcome free. Not if you know it, you ain’t.’tent, who also appeared before dinner. This was an amazingMr Casby shook his head, in Placid and benignant generality.cheap for expression, and a stiff yellow wig perchedlittle old woman, with a face like a staring wooden doll toounevenly156

Little Dorrit – Book Oneon the top of her head, as if the child who owned the doll had times interrupted by a propensity to offer remarks in a deepdriven a tack through it anywhere, so that it only got fastened warning voice, which, being totally uncalled for by anythingon. Another remarkable thing in this little old woman was, that said by anybody, and traceable to no association of ideas,the same child seemed to have damaged her face in two or confounded and terrified the Mind. Mr F.’s Aunt may havethree places with some blunt instrument in the nature of a spoon; thrown in these observations on some system of her own, andher countenance, and particularly the tip of her nose, presentingthe phenomena of several dints, generally answering to the was wanted. The neatly-served and well-cooked dinner (forit may have been ingenious, or even subtle: but the key to itbowl of that article. A further remarkable thing in this little old everything about the Patriarchal household promoted quietwoman was, that she had no name but Mr F.’s Aunt. digestion) began with some soup, some fried soles, a butterboatof shrimp sauce, and a dish of potatoes. The conversa-She broke upon the visitor’s view under the following circumstances:Flora said when the first dish was being put on tion still turned on the receipt of rents. Mr F.’s Aunt, afterthe table, perhaps Mr Clennam might not have heard that Mr regarding the company for ten minutes with a malevolent gaze,F. had left her a legacy? Clennam in return implied his hope delivered the following fearful remark:that Mr F. had endowed the wife whom he adored, with the ‘When we lived at Henley, Barnes’s gander was stole bygreater part of his worldly substance, if not with all. Flora said, tinkers.’ Mr Pancks courageously nodded his head and said,oh yes, she didn’t mean that, Mr F. had made a beautiful will, ‘All right, ma’am.’ But the effect of this mysterious communicationupon Clennam was absolutely to frighten him. And an-but he had left her as a separate legacy, his Aunt. She thenwent out of the room to fetch the legacy, and, on her return, other circumstance invested this old lady with peculiar terrors.rather triumphantly presented ‘Mr F.’s Aunt.’Though she was always staring, she never acknowledged thatThe major characteristics discoverable by the stranger in she saw any individual.Mr F.’s Aunt, were extreme severity and grim taciturnity; some-The polite and attentive stranger would desire, say, to con-157

Charles Dickenssult her inclinations on the subject of potatoes. His expressive about, and a puff and a snort occasionally, as if he were nearlyaction would be hopelessly lost upon her, and what could he ready to steam away.do? No man could say, ‘Mr F.’s Aunt, will you permit me?’ All through dinner, Flora combined her present appetite forEvery man retired from the spoon, as Clennam did, cowed eating and drinking with her past appetite for romantic love, inand baffled.a way that made Clennam afraid to lift his eyes from his plate;There was mutton, a steak, and an apple-pie—nothing in since he could not look towards her without receiving somethe remotest way connected with ganders—and the dinner glance of mysterious meaning or warning, as if they were engagedin a plot. Mr F.’s Aunt sat silently defying him with anwent on like a disenchanted feast, as it truly was. Once upon atime Clennam had sat at that table taking no heed of anything aspect of the greatest bitterness, until the removal of the clothbut Flora; now the principal heed he took of Flora was to and the appearance of the decanters, when she originated anotherobservation—struck into the conversation like a clock,observe, against his will, that she was very fond of porter, thatshe combined a great deal of sherry with sentiment, and that if without consulting anybody.she were a little overgrown, it was upon substantial grounds. Flora had just said, ‘Mr Clennam, will you give me a glass ofThe last of the Patriarchs had always been a mighty eater, and port for Mr F.’s Aunt?’he disposed of an immense quantity of solid food with the ‘The Monument near London Bridge,’ that lady instantlybenignity of a good soul who was feeding some one else. Mr proclaimed, ‘was put up arter the Great Fire of London; andPancks, who was always in a hurry, and who referred at intervalsto a little dirty notebook which he kept beside him (per-George’s workshops was burned down.’the Great Fire of London was not the fire in which your unclehaps containing the names of the defaulters he meant to look Mr Pancks, with his former courage, said, ‘Indeed, ma’am?up by way of dessert), took in his victuals much as if he were All right!’ But appearing to be incensed by imaginary contradiction,or other ill-usage, Mr F.’s Aunt, instead of coaling; with a good deal of noise, a good deal of droppingrelapsing158

Little Dorrit – Book Oneinto silence, made the following additional proclamation: ‘Quite agreeable,’ said Pancks.‘I hate a fool!’Meanwhile Flora was murmuring in rapid snatches for hisShe imparted to this sentiment, in itself almost Solomonic, so ear, that there was a time and that the past was a yawning gulfextremely injurious and personal a character by levelling it straight however and that a golden chain no longer bound him and thatat the visitor’s head, that it became necessary to lead Mr F.’s she revered the memory of the late Mr F. and that she shouldAunt from the room. This was quietly done by Flora; Mr F.’s be at home to-morrow at half-past one and that the decrees ofAunt offering no resistance, but inquiring on her way out, ‘What Fate were beyond recall and that she considered nothing sohe come there for, then?’ with implacable animosity.improbable as that he ever walked on the north-west side ofWhen Flora returned, she explained that her legacy was a Gray’s-Inn Gardens at exactly four o’clock in the afternoon.clever old lady, but was sometimes a little singular, and ‘took He tried at parting to give his hand in frankness to the existingdislikes’—peculiarities of which Flora seemed to be proud Flora—not the vanished Flora, or the mermaid—but Florarather than otherwise. As Flora’s good nature shone in the wouldn’t have it, couldn’t have it, was wholly destitute of thecase, Clennam had no fault to find with the old lady for eliciting power of separating herself and him from their bygone characters.He left the house miserably enough; and so much moreit, now that he was relieved from the terrors of her presence;and they took a glass or two of wine in peace. Foreseeing then light-headed than ever, that if it had not been his good fortunethat the Pancks would shortly get under weigh, and that the to be towed away, he might, for the first quarter of an hour,Patriarch would go to sleep, he pleaded the necessity of visitinghis mother, and asked Mr Pancks in which direction he When he began to come to himself, in the cooler air and thehave drifted anywhere.was going?absence of Flora, he found Pancks at full speed, cropping‘Citywards, sir,’ said Pancks. ‘Shall we walk together?’ said such scanty pasturage of nails as he could find, and snorting atArthur.intervals. These, in conjunction with one hand in his pocket159

Charles Dickensand his roughened hat hind side before, were evidently the ‘Ah dear, dear, dear!’ sighed Clennam.conditions under which he reflected.‘Here am I,’ said Pancks, pursuing his argument with the‘A fresh night!’ said Arthur.weekly tenant. ‘What else do you suppose I think I am made‘Yes, it’s pretty fresh,’ assented Pancks. ‘As a stranger you for? Nothing.feel the climate more than I do, I dare say. Indeed I haven’t Rattle me out of bed early, set me going, give me as short agot time to feel it.’time as you like to bolt my meals in, and keep me at it. Keep‘You lead such a busy life?’me always at it, and I’ll keep you always at it, you keep somebodyelse always at it. There you are with the Whole Duty of‘Yes, I have always some of ‘em to look up, or something tolook after. But I like business,’ said Pancks, getting on a little Man in a commercial country.’faster. ‘What’s a man made for?’When they had walked a little further in silence, Clennam‘For nothing else?’ said Clennam.said: ‘Have you no taste for anything, Mr Pancks?’Pancks put the counter question, ‘What else?’ It packed ‘What’s taste?’ drily retorted Pancks.up, in the smallest compass, a weight that had rested on ‘Let us say inclination.’Clennam’s life; and he made no answer.‘I have an inclination to get money, sir,’ said Pancks, ‘if you‘That’s what I ask our weekly tenants,’ said Pancks. ‘Some will show me how.’ He blew off that sound again, and it occurredto his companion for the first time that it was his way ofof ‘em will pull long faces to me, and say, Poor as you see us,master, we’re always grinding, drudging, toiling, every minute laughing. He was a singular man in all respects; he might notwe’re awake.have been quite in earnest, but that the short, hard, rapid mannerin which he shot out these cinders of principles, as if itI say to them, What else are you made for? It shuts them up.They haven’t a word to answer. What else are you made for? were done by mechanical revolvency, seemed irreconcilableThat clinches it.’with banter.160

Little Dorrit – Book One‘You are no great reader, I suppose?’ said Clennam. senting himself in his mother’s dismal room that night, and could‘Never read anything but letters and accounts. Never collectanything but advertisements relative to next of kin. If that’s a wilderness. He turned slowly down Aldersgate Street, andnot have felt more depressed and cast away if he had been ina taste, I have got that. You’re not of the Clennams of Cornwall, was pondering his way along towards Saint Paul’s, purposingMr Clennam?’to come into one of the great thoroughfares for the sake of‘Not that I ever heard of.’ ‘I know you’re not. I asked your their light and life, when a crowd of people flocked towardsmother, sir. She has too much character to let a chance escape him on the same pavement, and he stood aside against a shopher.’to let them pass. As they came up, he made out that they were‘Supposing I had been of the Clennams of Cornwall?’ ‘You’d gathered around a something that was carried on men’s shoulders.He soon saw that it was a litter, hastily made of a shutterhave heard of something to your advantage.’‘Indeed! I have heard of little enough to my advantage for or some such thing; and a recumbent figure upon it, and thesome time.’scraps of conversation in the crowd, and a muddy bundle carriedby one man, and a muddy hat carried by another, in-‘There’s a Cornish property going a begging, sir, and not aCornish Clennam to have it for the asking,’ said Pancks, takinghis note-book from his breast pocket and putting it in again. under a lamp before it had passed him half-a-dozen paces, forformed him that an accident had occurred. The litter stopped‘I turn off here. I wish you good night.’some readjustment of the burden; and, the crowd stopping‘Good night!’ said Clennam. But the Tug, suddenly lightened,and untrammelled by having any weight in tow, was al-‘An accident going to the Hospital?’ he asked an old mantoo, he found himself in the midst of the array.ready puffing away into the distance.beside him, who stood shaking his head, inviting conversation.They had crossed Smithfield together, and Clennam was left ‘Yes,’ said the man, ‘along of them Mails. They ought to bealone at the corner of Barbican. He had no intention of pre-prosecuted and fined, them Mails. They come a racing out of161

Charles DickensLad Lane and Wood Street at twelve or fourteen mile a hour, ‘Is this a foreigner?’ said Clennam, leaning forward to look.them Mails do. The only wonder is, that people ain’t killed In the midst of such replies as ‘Frenchman, sir,’ ‘Porteghee,oftener by them Mails.’sir,’ ‘Dutchman, sir,’ ‘Prooshan, sir,’ and other conflicting testimony,he now heard a feeble voice asking, both in Italian and‘This person is not killed, I hope?’‘I don’t know!’ said the man, ‘it an’t for the want of a will in in French, for water. A general remark going round, in reply,them Mails, if he an’t.’ The speaker having folded his arms, of ‘Ah, poor fellow, he says he’ll never get over it; and noand set in comfortably to address his depreciation of them wonder!’ Clennam begged to be allowed to pass, as he understoodthe poor creature. He was immediately handed toMails to any of the bystanders who would listen, several voices,out of pure sympathy with the sufferer, confirmed him; one the front, to speak to him.voice saying to Clennam, ‘They’re a public nuisance, them ‘First, he wants some water,’ said he, looking round. (AMails, sir;’ another, ‘I see one on ‘em pull up within half a inch dozen good fellows dispersed to get it.) ‘Are you badly hurt,of a boy, last night;’ another, ‘I see one on ‘em go over a cat, my friend?’ he asked the man on the litter, in Italian.sir—and it might have been your own mother;’ and all representing,by implication, that if he happened to possess any me to hear the old music, though I am very bad.’‘Yes, sir; yes, yes, yes. It’s my leg, it’s my leg. But it pleasespublic influence, he could not use it better than against them ‘You are a traveller! Stay! See, the water! Let me give youMails.some.’ They had rested the litter on a pile of paving stones. It‘Why, a native Englishman is put to it every night of his life, was at a convenient height from the ground, and by stoopingto save his life from them Mails,’ argued the first old man; ‘and he could lightly raise the head with one hand and hold the glasshe knows when they’re a coming round the corner, to tear him to his lips with the other. A little, muscular, brown man, withlimb from limb. What can you expect from a poor foreigner black hair and white teeth. A lively face, apparently. Earringswho don’t know nothing about ‘em!’in his ears.162

Little Dorrit – Book One‘That’s well. You are a traveller?’as ready to appear as Calamity herself. ‘He hardly knows an‘Surely, sir.’English word,’ said Clennam; ‘is he badly hurt?’‘A stranger in this city?’‘Let us know all about it first,’ said the surgeon, continuing‘Surely, surely, altogether. I am arrived this unhappy evening.’ his examination with a businesslike delight in it, ‘before we‘From what country?’ ‘Marseilles.’pronounce.’‘Why, see there! I also! Almost as much a stranger here as After trying the leg with a finger, and two fingers, and oneyou, though born here, I came from Marseilles a little while hand and two hands, and over and under, and up and down,ago. Don’t be cast down.’ The face looked up at him imploringly,as he rose from wiping it, and gently replaced the coat the points of interest to another gentleman who joined him, theand in this direction and in that, and approvingly remarking onthat covered the writhing figure. ‘I won’t leave you till you surgeon at last clapped the patient on the shoulder, and said,shall be well taken care of. Courage! You will be very much ‘He won’t hurt. He’ll do very well. It’s difficult enough, but webetter half an hour hence.’shall not want him to part with his leg this time.’ Which Clennam‘Ah! Altro, Altro!’ cried the poor little man, in a faintly increduloustone; and as they took him up, hung out his right demonstrative way, kissed both the interpreter’s hand and theinterpreted to the patient, who was full of gratitude, and, in hishand to give the forefinger a back-handed shake in the air. surgeon’s several times.Arthur Clennam turned; and walking beside the litter, and ‘It’s a serious injury, I suppose?’ said Clennam.saying an encouraging word now and then, accompanied it to ‘Ye-es,’ replied the surgeon, with the thoughtful pleasure ofthe neighbouring hospital of Saint Bartholomew. None of the an artist contemplating the work upon his easel. ‘Yes, it’scrowd but the bearers and he being admitted, the disabled enough. There’s a compound fracture above the knee, and aman was soon laid on a table in a cool, methodical way, and dislocation below. They are both of a beautiful kind.’ He gavecarefully examined by a surgeon who was as near at hand, and the patient a friendly clap on the shoulder again, as if he really163

Charles Dickensfelt that he was a very good fellow indeed, and worthy of all that quarter, by Snow Hill and Holborn.commendation for having broken his leg in a manner interestingto science.his last adventure, he was naturally in a thoughtful mood. AsLeft to himself again, after the solicitude and compassion of‘He speaks French?’ said the surgeon.naturally, he could not walk on thinking for ten minutes without‘Oh yes, he speaks French.’recalling Flora. She necessarily recalled to him his life, with all‘He’ll be at no loss here, then.—You have only to bear a its misdirection and little happiness.little pain like a brave fellow, my friend, and to be thankful that When he got to his lodging, he sat down before the dyingall goes as well as it does,’ he added, in that tongue, ‘and fire, as he had stood at the window of his old room looking outyou’ll walk again to a marvel. Now, let us see whether there’s upon the blackened forest of chimneys, and turned his gazeanything else the matter, and how our ribs are?’back upon the gloomy vista by which he had come to thatThere was nothing else the matter, and our ribs were sound. stage in his existence. So long, so bare, so blank. No childhood;no youth, except for one remembrance; that one re-Clennam remained until everything possible to be done hadbeen skilfully and promptly done—the poor belated wanderer membrance proved, only that day, to be a piece of folly.in a strange land movingly besought that favour of him—and It was a misfortune to him, trifle as it might have been tolingered by the bed to which he was in due time removed, until another. For, while all that was hard and stern in his recollection,remained Reality on being proved—was obdurate to thehe had fallen into a doze. Even then he wrote a few words forhim on his card, with a promise to return to-morrow, and left it sight and touch, and relaxed nothing of its old indomitable grimness—theone tender recollection of his experience would notto be given to him when he should awake. All these proceedingsoccupied so long that it struck eleven o’clock at night as bear the same test, and melted away. He had foreseen this, onhe came out at the Hospital Gate. He had hired a lodging for the former night, when he had dreamed with waking eyes. butthe present in Covent Garden, and he took the nearest way to he had not felt it then; and he had now.164

Little Dorrit – Book OneHe was a dreamer in such wise, because he was a man who strewing poison on the way by which other men had come tohad, deep-rooted in his nature, a belief in all the gentle and it. That he should have missed so much, and at his time of lifegood things his life had been without. Bred in meanness and should look so far about him for any staff to bear him companyupon his downward journey and cheer it, was a just re-hard dealing, this had rescued him to be a man of honourablemind and open hand. Bred in coldness and severity, this had gret. He looked at the fire from which the blaze departed,rescued him to have a warm and sympathetic heart. Bred in a from which the afterglow subsided, in which the ashes turnedcreed too darkly audacious to pursue, through its process of grey, from which they dropped to dust, and thought, ‘Howreserving the making of man in the image of his Creator to the soon I too shall pass through such changes, and be gone!’making of his Creator in the image of an erring man, this had To review his life was like descending a green tree in fruitrescued him to judge not, and in humility to be merciful, and and flower, and seeing all the branches wither and drop off,have hope and charity.one by one, as he came down towards them.And this saved him still from the whimpering weakness and ‘From the unhappy suppression of my youngest days, throughcruel selfishness of holding that because such a happiness or the rigid and unloving home that followed them, through mysuch a virtue had not come into his little path, or worked well departure, my long exile, my return, my mother’s welcome,for him, therefore it was not in the great scheme, but was reducible,when found in appearance, to the basest elements. A day with poor Flora,’ said Arthur Clennam, ‘what have Imy intercourse with her since, down to the afternoon of thisdisappointed mind he had, but a mind too firm and healthy for found!’such unwholesome air. Leaving himself in the dark, it could His door was softly opened, and these spoken words startledrise into the light, seeing it shine on others and hailing it. him, and came as if they were an answer:Therefore, he sat before his dying fire, sorrowful to think ‘Little Dorrit.’upon the way by which he had come to that night, yet not165

ARTHUR CLENNAM ROSE hastily, and saw her standing at thedoor. This history must sometimes see with Little Dorrit’s eyes,and shall begin that course by seeing him.Little Dorrit looked into a dim room, which seemed a spaciousone to her, and grandly furnished. Courtly ideas of CoventGarden, as a place with famous coffee-houses, where gentlemenwearing gold-laced coats and swords had quarrelled andfought duels; costly ideas of Covent Garden, as a place wherethere were flowers in winter at guineas a-piece, pine-apples atguineas a pound, and peas at guineas a pint; picturesque ideasof Covent Garden, as a place where there was a mighty theatre,showing wonderful and beautiful sights to richly-dressedladies and gentlemen, and which was for ever far beyond thereach of poor Fanny or poor uncle; desolate ideas of CoventGarden, as having all those arches in it, where the miserablechildren in rags among whom she had just now passed, likeyoung rats, slunk and hid, fed on offal, huddled together forwarmth, and were hunted about (look to the rats young andold, all ye Barnacles, for before God they are eating away our166Charles Dickensfoundations, and will bring the roofs on our heads!); teemingCHAPTER 14 Little Dorrit’s Partyideas of Covent Garden, as a place of past and present mystery,romance, abundance, want, beauty, ugliness, fair countrygardens, and foul street gutters; all confused together,—madethe room dimmer than it was in Little Dorrit’s eyes, as theytimidly saw it from the door.At first in the chair before the gone-out fire, and then turnedround wondering to see her, was the gentleman whom shesought. The brown, grave gentleman, who smiled so pleasantly,who was so frank and considerate in his manner, and yetin whose earnestness there was something that reminded herof his mother, with the great difference that she was earnest inasperity and he in gentleness. Now he regarded her with thatattentive and inquiring look before which Little Dorrit’s eyeshad always fallen, and before which they fell still.‘My poor child! Here at midnight?’‘I said Little Dorrit, sir, on purpose to prepare you. I knewyou must be very much surprised.’‘Are you alone?’‘No sir, I have got Maggy with me.’Considering her entrance sufficiently prepared for by this

Little Dorrit – Book Onemention of her name, Maggy appeared from the landing outside,on the broad grin. She instantly suppressed that manifes-was a part of her father’s misfortunes that they did.such delusions did sometimes present themselves to people. Ittation, however, and became fixedly solemn.‘Before I say anything else,’ Little Dorrit began, sitting beforethe pale fire, and raising her eyes again to the face which‘And I have no fire,’ said Clennam. ‘And you are—’ Hewas going to say so lightly clad, but stopped himself in what in its harmonious look of interest, and pity, and protection, shewould have been a reference to her poverty, saying instead, felt to be a mystery far above her in degree, and almost removedbeyond her guessing at; ‘may I tell you something, sir?’‘And it is so cold.’Putting the chair from which he had risen nearer to the grate, ‘Yes, my child.’ A slight shade of distress fell upon her, at hishe made her sit down in it; and hurriedly bringing wood and so often calling her a child. She was surprised that he shouldcoal, heaped them together and got a blaze.see it, or think of such a slight thing; but he said directly: ‘I‘Your foot is like marble, my child;’ he had happened to wanted a tender word, and could think of no other. As youtouch it, while stooping on one knee at his work of kindling the just now gave yourself the name they give you at my mother’s,fire; ‘put it nearer the warmth.’ Little Dorrit thanked him hastily.It was quite warm, it was very warm! It smote upon his call you Little Dorrit.’and as that is the name by which I always think of you, let meheart to feel that she hid her thin, worn shoe.‘Thank you, sir, I should like it better than any name.’Little Dorrit was not ashamed of her poor shoes. He knew ‘Little Dorrit.’her story, and it was not that. Little Dorrit had a misgiving that ‘Little mother,’ Maggy (who had been falling asleep) put in,he might blame her father, if he saw them; that he might think, as a correction.‘why did he dine to-day, and leave this little creature to the ‘It’s all the same, MaggY,’ returned Little Dorrit, ‘all themercy of the cold stones!’ She had no belief that it would have same.’been a just reflection; she simply knew, by experience, that ‘Is it all the same, mother?’167

Charles Dickens‘Just the same.’‘And what I was going to say, sir, is,’ said Little Dorrit, tremblingmore and more, ‘that if I knew him, and I might, I wouldMaggy laughed, and immediately snored. In Little Dorrit’seyes and ears, the uncouth figure and the uncouth sound were tell him that he can never, never know how I feel his goodness,as pleasant as could be. There was a glow of pride in her big and how my good father would feel it. And what I was goingchild, overspreading her face, when it again met the eyes of to say, sir, is, that if I knew him, and I might—but I don’t knowthe grave brown gentleman. She wondered what he was thinkingof, as he looked at Maggy and her. She thought what a never any more lie down to sleep without having prayed tohim and I must not—I know that!—I would tell him that I shallgood father he would be. How, with some such look, he would Heaven to bless him and reward him. And if I knew him, andcounsel and cherish his daughter.I might, I would go down on my knees to him, and take his‘What I was going to tell you, sir,’ said Little Dorrit, ‘is, that hand and kiss it and ask him not to draw it away, but to leavemy brother is at large.’it—O to leave it for a moment—and let my thankful tears fallArthur was rejoiced to hear it, and hoped he would do well. on it; for I have no other thanks to give him!’‘And what I was going to tell you, sir,’ said Little Dorrit, Little Dorrit had put his hand to her lips, and would havetrembling in all her little figure and in her voice, ‘is, that I am kneeled to him, but he gently prevented her, and replaced hernot to know whose generosity released him—am never to ask, in her chair.and am never to be told, and am never to thank that gentleman Her eyes, and the tones of her voice, had thanked him farwith all my grateful heart!’better than she thought. He was not able to say, quite as composedlyas usual, ‘There, Little Dorrit, there, there, there! WeHe would probably need no thanks, Clennam said. Verylikely he would be thankful himself (and with reason), that he will suppose that you did know this person, and that you mighthad had the means and chance of doing a little service to her, do all this, and that it was all done. And now tell me, Who amwho well deserved a great one.quite another person—who am nothing more than the friend168

Little Dorrit – Book Onewho begged you to trust him—why you are out at midnight, answered it. ‘Oh no, certainly! I never was at a party in myand what it is that brings you so far through the streets at this life.’ She paused a little under his attentive look, and then said,late hour, my slight, delicate,’ child was on his lips again, ‘Little ‘I hope there is no harm in it. I could never have been of anyDorrit!’use, if I had not pretended a little.’‘Maggy and I have been to-night,’ she answered, subduing She feared that he was blaming her in his mind for so devisingto contrive for them, think for them, and watch over them,herself with the quiet effort that had long been natural to her,‘to the theatre where my sister is engaged.’without their knowledge or gratitude; perhaps even with their‘And oh ain’t it a Ev’nly place,’ suddenly interrupted Maggy, reproaches for supposed neglect. But what was really in hiswho seemed to have the power of going to sleep and waking mind, was the weak figure with its strong purpose, the thinup whenever she chose. ‘Almost as good as a hospital. Only worn shoes, the insufficient dress, and the pretence of recreationand enjoyment. He asked where the suppositious partythere ain’t no Chicking in it.’Here she shook herself, and fell asleep again.was? At a place where she worked, answered Little Dorrit,‘We went there,’ said Little Dorrit, glancing at her charge, blushing. She had said very little about it; only a few words to‘because I like sometimes to know, of my own knowledge, that make her father easy. Her father did not believe it to be amy sister is doing well; and like to see her there, with my own grand party—indeed he might suppose that. And she glancedeyes, when neither she nor Uncle is aware. It is very seldom for an instant at the shawl she wore.indeed that I can do that, because when I am not out at work, I ‘It is the first night,’ said Little Dorrit, ‘that I have ever beenam with my father, and even when I am out at work, I hurry away from home. And London looks so large, so barren, andhome to him. But I pretend to-night that I am at a party.’ so wild.’ In Little Dorrit’s eyes, its vastness under the blackAs she made the confession, timidly hesitating, she raised sky was awful; a tremor passed over her as she said the words.her eyes to the face, and read its expression so plainly that she ‘But this is not,’ she added, with the quiet effort again, ‘what169

Charles DickensI have come to trouble you with, sir. My sister’s having found know where I come from and where I go to. Where I live, Ia friend, a lady she has told me of and made me rather anxious mean.’about, was the first cause of my coming away from home. ‘Indeed!’ returned Clennam quickly. He asked her, after shortAnd being away, and coming (on purpose) round by where consideration, why she supposed so.you lived and seeing a light in the window—’‘I think,’ replied Little Dorrit, ‘that Mr Flintwinch must haveNot for the first time. No, not for the first time. In Little watched me.’Dorrit’s eyes, the outside of that window had been a distant And why, Clennam asked, as he turned his eyes upon thestar on other nights than this. She had toiled out of her way, fire, bent his brows, and considered again; why did she supposethat?tired and troubled, to look up at it, and wonder about thegrave, brown gentleman from so far off, who had spoken to ‘I have met him twice. Both times near home. Both times ather as a friend and protector.night, when I was going back. Both times I thought (though‘There were three things,’ said Little Dorrit, ‘that I thought I that may easily be my mistake), that he hardly looked as if hewould like to say, if you were alone and I might come upstairs.First, what I have tried to say, but never can—never ‘No; he only nodded and put his head on one side.’had met me by accident.’ ‘Did he say anything?’shall—’‘The devil take his head!’ mused Clennam, still looking at‘Hush, hush! That is done with, and disposed of. Let us pass the fire; ‘it’s always on one side.’ He roused himself to persuadeher to put some wine to her lips, and to touch somethingto the second,’ said Clennam, smiling her agitation away, makingthe blaze shine upon her, and putting wine and cake and to eat—it was very difficult, she was so timid and shy—andfruit towards her on the table.then said, musing again: ‘Is my mother at all changed to you?’‘I think,’ said Little Dorrit—’this is the second thing, sir—I ‘Oh, not at all. She is just the same. I wondered whether Ithink Mrs Clennam must have found out my secret, and must had better tell her my history. I wondered whether I might—I170

Little Dorrit – Book Onemean, whether you would like me to tell her. I wondered,’ with returning and increasing agitation.said Little Dorrit, looking at him in a suppliant way, and graduallywithdrawing her eyes as he looked at her, ‘whether you afraid that I shall put a wrong construction on it, whatever it‘No, no, no. I am sure it will be natural and right. I am notwould advise me what I ought to do.’is.’‘Little Dorrit,’ said Clennam; and the phrase had already ‘Thank you. You are coming back to see my father again?’begun, between these two, to stand for a hundred gentle ‘Yes.’phrases, according to the varying tone and connection in which ‘You have been so good and thoughtful as to write him ait was used; ‘do nothing. I will have some talk with my old note, saying that you are coming to-morrow?’friend, Mrs Affery. Do nothing, Little Dorrit—except refresh ‘Oh, that was nothing! Yes.’yourself with such means as there are here. I entreat you to do ‘Can you guess,’ said Little Dorrit, folding her small handsthat.’tight in one another, and looking at him with all the earnestness‘Thank you, I am not hungry. Nor,’ said Little Dorrit, as he of her soul looking steadily out of her eyes, ‘what I am goingsoftly put her glass towards her, ‘nor thirsty.—I think Maggy to ask you not to do?’might like something, perhaps.’‘I think I can. But I may be wrong.’ ‘No, you are not wrong,’‘We will make her find pockets presently for all there is here,’ said Little Dorrit, shaking her head. ‘If we should want it sosaid Clennam: ‘but before we awake her, there was a third very, very badly that we cannot do without it, let me ask youthing to say.’for it.’‘Yes. You will not be offended, sir?’‘I Will,—I Will.’‘I promise that, unreservedly.’‘Don’t encourage him to ask. Don’t understand him if he‘It will sound strange. I hardly know how to say it. Don’t does ask. Don’t give it to him. Save him and spare him that,think it unreasonable or ungrateful in me,’ said Little Dorrit, and you will be able to think better of him!’171

Charles DickensClennam said—not very plainly, seeing those tears glistening pation, Clennam made the best diversion in his power by pouringher out a glass of wine, which she drank in a series of loudin her anxious eyes—that her wish should be sacred with him.‘You don’t know what he is,’ she said; ‘you don’t know smacks; putting her hand upon her windpipe after every one,what he really is. How can you, seeing him there all at once, and saying, breathless, with her eyes in a prominent state, ‘Oh,dear love, and not gradually, as I have done! You have been ain’t it d’licious! Ain’t it hospitally!’ When she had finished theso good to us, so delicately and truly good, that I want him to wine and these encomiums, he charged her to load her basketbe better in your eyes than in anybody’s. And I cannot bear to (she was never without her basket) with every eatable thingthink,’ cried Little Dorrit, covering her tears with her hands, ‘I upon the table, and to take especial care to leave no scrapcannot bear to think that you of all the world should see him in behind. Maggy’s pleasure in doing this and her little mother’shis only moments of degradation.’pleasure in seeing Maggy pleased, was as good a turn as circumstancescould have given to the late conversation.‘Pray,’ said Clennam, ‘do not be so distressed. Pray, pray,Little Dorrit! This is quite understood now.’‘But the gates will have been locked long ago,’ said Clennam,‘Thank you, sir. Thank you! I have tried very much to keep suddenly remembering it. ‘Where are you going?’myself from saying this; I have thought about it, days and nights; ‘I am going to Maggy’s lodging,’ answered Little Dorrit. ‘Ibut when I knew for certain you were coming again, I made shall be quite safe, quite well taken care of.’up my mind to speak to you. Not because I am ashamed of ‘I must accompany you there,’ said Clennam, ‘I cannot lethim,’ she dried her tears quickly, ‘but because I know him you go alone.’better than any one does, and love him, and am proud of him.’ ‘Yes, pray leave us to go there by ourselves. Pray do!’Relieved of this weight, Little Dorrit was nervously anxious begged Little Dorrit.to be gone. Maggy being broad awake, and in the act of distantlygloating over the fruit and cakes with chuckles of anticicacyin obtruding himself upon her: the rather, because heShe was so earnest in the petition, that Clennam felt a deli-could172

Little Dorrit – Book Onewell understand that Maggy’s lodging was of the obscurest that he had no right to go further, and slowly left them. He hadsort. ‘Come, Maggy,’ said Little Dorrit cheerily, ‘we shall do no suspicion that they ran any risk of being houseless untilvery well; we know the way by this time, Maggy?’morning; had no idea of the truth until long, long afterwards.‘Yes, yes, little mother; we know the way,’ chuckled Maggy. But, said Little Dorrit, when they stopped at a poor dwellingAnd away they went. Little Dorrit turned at the door to say, all in darkness, and heard no sound on listening at the door,‘God bless you!’ She said it very softly, but perhaps she may ‘Now, this is a good lodging for you, Maggy, and we must nothave been as audible above—who knows!—as a whole cathedralchoir.very loud; and if we cannot wake them so, we must walkgive offence. Consequently, we will only knock twice, and notArthur Clennam suffered them to pass the corner of the street about till day.’before he followed at a distance; not with any idea of encroachinga second time on Little Dorrit’s privacy, but to sattened.Twice, Little Dorrit knocked with a careful hand, andOnce, Little Dorrit knocked with a careful hand, and lisisfyhis mind by seeing her secure in the neighbourhood to listened. All was close and still. ‘Maggy, we must do the bestwhich she was accustomed. So diminutive she looked, so fragile we can, my dear. We must be patient, and wait for day.’and defenceless against the bleak damp weather, flitting along It was a chill dark night, with a damp wind blowing, whenin the shuffling shadow of her charge, that he felt, in his compassion,and in his habit of considering her a child apart from strike half-past one. ‘In only five hours and a half,’ said Littlethey came out into the leading street again, and heard the clocksthe rest of the rough world, as if he would have been glad to Dorrit, ‘we shall be able to go home.’ To speak of home, andtake her up in his arms and carry her to her journey’s end. to go and look at it, it being so near, was a natural sequence.In course of time she came into the leading thoroughfare They went to the closed gate, and peeped through into thewhere the Marshalsea was, and then he saw them slacken court-yard. ‘I hope he is sound asleep,’ said Little Dorrit, kissingone of the bars, ‘and does not miss their pace, and soon turn down a by-street. He stopped, feltme.’173

Charles DickensThe gate was so familiar, and so like a companion, that they ‘If it was light and warm and beautiful, and it was our house,put down Maggy’s basket in a corner to serve for a seat, and and my poor dear was its master, and had never been insidekeeping close together, rested there for some time. While the these walls.street was empty and silent, Little Dorrit was not afraid; but And if Mr Clennam was one of our visitors, and we werewhen she heard a footstep at a distance, or saw a moving dancing to delightful music, and were all as gay and light-heartedshadow among the street lamps, she was startled, and whispered,‘Maggy, I see some one. Come away!’ Maggy would opened out before her, that she sat looking up at the stars,as ever we could be! I wonder—’ Such a vista of wonderthen wake up more or less fretfully, and they would wander quite lost, until Maggy was querulous again, and wanted to getabout a little, and come back again.up and walk.As long as eating was a novelty and an amusement, Maggy Three o’clock, and half-past three, and they had passedkept up pretty well. But that period going by, she became over London Bridge. They had heard the rush of the tide againstquerulous about the cold, and shivered and whimpered. ‘It obstacles; and looked down, awed, through the dark vapourwill soon be over, dear,’ said Little Dorrit patiently. ‘Oh it’s all on the river; had seen little spots of lighted water where thevery fine for you, little mother,’ returned Maggy, ‘but I’m a bridge lamps were reflected, shining like demon eyes, with apoor thing, only ten years old.’ At last, in the dead of the night, terrible fascination in them for guilt and misery. They had shrunkwhen the street was very still indeed, Little Dorrit laid the heavy past homeless people, lying coiled up in nooks. They had runhead upon her bosom, and soothed her to sleep. And thus she from drunkards. They had started from slinking men, whistlingsat at the gate, as it were alone; looking up at the stars, and and signing to one another at bye corners, or running away atseeing the clouds pass over them in their wild flight—which full speed. Though everywhere the leader and the guide, Littlewas the dance at Little Dorrit’s party.Dorrit, happy for once in her youthful appearance, feigned to‘If it really was a party!’ she thought once, as she sat there. cling to and rely upon Maggy. And more than once some voice,174

Little Dorrit – Book Onefrom among a knot of brawling or prowling figures in their Have you no eyes, that you don’t see how delicate and slendershe is? Have you no sense (you don’t look as if you hadpath, had called out to the rest to ‘let the woman and the childgo by!’much) that you don’t take more pity on this cold and tremblingSo, the woman and the child had gone by, and gone on, and little hand?’five had sounded from the steeples. They were walking slowly She had stepped across to that side, and held the hand betweenher own two, chafing it. ‘Kiss a poor lost creature, dear,’towards the east, already looking for the first pale streak ofday, when a woman came after them.she said, bending her face, ‘and tell me where’s she taking‘What are you doing with the child?’ she said to Maggy. you.’She was young—far too young to be there, Heaven Little Dorrit turned towards her.knows!—and neither ugly nor wicked-looking. She spoke ‘Why, my God!’ she said, recoiling, ‘you’re a woman!’coarsely, but with no naturally coarse voice; there was even ‘Don’t mind that!’ said Little Dorrit, clasping one of her handssomething musical in its sound. ‘What are you doing with yourself?’retorted Maggy, for want Of a better answer.‘Then you had better be,’ she answered. ‘Have you nothat had suddenly released hers. ‘I am not afraid of you.’‘Can’t you see, without my telling you?’mother?’‘I don’t know as I can,’ said Maggy.‘No.’‘Killing myself! Now I have answered you, answer me. What ‘No father?’are you doing with the child?’‘Yes, a very dear one.’The supposed child kept her head drooped down, and kept ‘Go home to him, and be afraid of me. Let me go. Goodher form close at Maggy’s side.night!’‘Poor thing!’ said the woman. ‘Have you no feeling, that ‘I must thank you first; let me speak to you as if I really wereyou keep her out in the cruel streets at such a time as this? a child.’175

Charles Dickens‘You can’t do it,’ said the woman. ‘You are kind and innocent;but you can’t look at me out of a child’s eyes. I never and to present herself and her charge before him.This caused her to turn back again in the act of going out,should have touched you, but I thought that you were a child.’ ‘I thought so!’ said he. ‘I know you.’And with a strange, wild cry, she went away.‘We have often seen each other,’ said Little Dorrit,No day yet in the sky, but there was day in the resounding recognising the sexton, or the beadle, or the verger, or whateverhe was, ‘when I have been at church here.’stones of the streets; in the waggons, carts, and coaches; inthe workers going to various occupations; in the opening of ‘More than that, we’ve got your birth in our Register, youearly shops; in the traffic at markets; in the stir of the riverside. know; you’re one of our curiosities.’There was coming day in the flaring lights, with a feebler colour ‘Indeed!’ said Little Dorrit.in them than they would have had at another time; coming day ‘To be sure. As the child of the—by-the-bye, how did youin the increased sharpness of the air, and the ghastly dying of get out so early?’the night.‘We were shut out last night, and are waiting to get in.’They went back again to the gate, intending to wait there ‘You don’t mean it? And there’s another hour good yet!now until it should be opened; but the air was so raw and cold Come into the vestry. You’ll find a fire in the vestry, on accountof the painters. I’m waiting for the painters, or I shouldn’tthat Little Dorrit, leading Maggy about in her sleep, kept inmotion. Going round by the Church, she saw lights there, and be here, you may depend upon it. One of our curiosities mustn’tthe door open; and went up the steps and looked in. be cold when we have it in our power to warm her up comfortable.Come along.’‘Who’s that?’ cried a stout old man, who was putting on anightcap as if he were going to bed in a vault.He was a very good old fellow, in his familiar way; and havingstirred the vestry fire, he looked round the shelves of reg-‘It’s no one particular, sir,’ said Little Dorrit.‘Stop!’ cried the man. ‘Let’s have a look at you!’ isters for a particular volume. ‘Here you are, you see,’ he said,176

Little Dorrit – Book Onetaking it down and turning the leaves. ‘Here you’ll find yourself,as large as life. Amy, daughter of William and Fanny Dorrit. coming, you know, and when. That’s the interesting question.’ing to most people is—not who’s in ‘em, but who isn’t—who’sBorn, Marshalsea Prison, Parish of St George. And we tell Commendingly looking back at the pillow he had improvised,he left them to their hour’s repose. Maggy was snoringpeople that you have lived there, without so much as a day’sor a night’s absence, ever since. Is it true?’already, and Little Dorrit was soon fast asleep with her head‘Quite true, till last night.’ ‘Lord!’ But his surveying her with resting on that sealed book of Fate, untroubled by its mysteriousblank leaves.an admiring gaze suggested Something else to him, to wit: ‘Iam sorry to see, though, that you are faint and tired. Stay a bit. This was Little Dorrit’s party. The shame, desertion, wretchedness,and exposure of the great capital; the wet, the cold,I’ll get some cushions out of the church, and you and yourfriend shall lie down before the fire.the slow hours, and the swift clouds of the dismal night. ThisDon’t be afraid of not going in to join your father when the was the party from which Little Dorrit went home, jaded, ingate opens. I’ll call you.’the first grey mist of a rainy morning.He soon brought in the cushions, and strewed them on theground.CHAPTER 15 Mrs Flintwinch‘There you are, you see. Again as large as life. Oh, neverhas another Dreammind thanking. I’ve daughters of my own. And though theyweren’t born in the Marshalsea Prison, they might have been,THE DEBILITATED OLD house in the city, wrapped in its mantleif I had been, in my ways of carrying on, of your father’s breed.of soot, and leaning heavily on the crutches that had partakenStop a bit. I must put something under the cushion for yourof its decay and worn out with it, never knew a healthy or ahead. Here’s a burial volume. just the thing! We have got Mrscheerful interval, let what would betide. If the sun ever touchedBangham in this book. But what makes these books interest-it, it was but with a ray, and that was gone in half an hour; if the177

Charles Dickensmoonlight ever fell upon it, it was only to put a few patches on slowly. During many hours of the short winter days, however,its doleful cloak, and make it look more wretched. The stars, when it was dusk there early in the afternoon, changing distortionsof herself in her wheeled chair, of Mr Flintwinch with histo be sure, coldly watched it when the nights and the smokewere clear enough; and all bad weather stood by it with a rare wry neck, of Mistress Affery coming and going, would befidelity. You should alike find rain, hail, frost, and thaw lingeringin that dismal enclosure when they had vanished from other would hover there like shadows from a great magic lantern.thrown upon the house wall that was over the gateway, andplaces; and as to snow, you should see it there for weeks, long As the room-ridden invalid settled for the night, these wouldafter it had changed from yellow to black, slowly weeping gradually disappear: Mistress Affery’s magnified shadow alwaysflitting about, last, until it finally glided away into the air,away its grimy life. The place had no other adherents. As tostreet noises, the rumbling of wheels in the lane merely rushed as though she were off upon a witch excursion. Then the solitarylight would burn unchangingly, until it burned pale beforein at the gateway in going past, and rushed out again: makingthe listening Mistress Affery feel as if she were deaf, and recoveredthe sense of hearing by instantaneous flashes. So with her shadow descended on it from the witch-region of sleep.the dawn, and at last died under the breath of Mrs Affery, aswhistling, singing, talking, laughing, and all pleasant human Strange, if the little sick-room fire were in effect a beaconsounds. They leaped the gap in a moment, and went upon fire, summoning some one, and that the most unlikely sometheir way. The varying light of fire and candle in Mrs Clennam’s one in the world, to the spot that must be come to. Strange, ifroom made the greatest change that ever broke the dead monotonyof the spot. In her two long narrow windows, the fire that place every night until an appointed event should bethe little sick-room light were in effect a watch-light, burning inshone sullenly all day, and sullenly all night. On rare occasions watched out! Which of the vast multitude of travellers, underit flashed up passionately, as she did; but for the most part it the sun and the stars, climbing the dusty hills and toiling alongwas suppressed, like her, and preyed upon itself evenly and the weary plains, journeying by land and journeying by sea,178

Little Dorrit – Book Onecoming and going so strangely, to meet and to act and react on quick beats like a rapid step; while a shock or tremble was communicatedto her heart, as if the step had shaken the floor, or evenone another; which of the host may, with no suspicion of thejourney’s end, be travelling surely hither?as if she had been touched by some awful hand. She thought thatTime shall show us. The post of honour and the post of shame, this revived within her certain old fears of hers that the house wasthe general’s station and the drummer’s, a peer’s statue in haunted; and that she flew up the kitchen stairs without knowingWestminster Abbey and a seaman’s hammock in the bosom how she got up, to be nearer company.of the deep, the mitre and the workhouse, the woolsack and Mistress Affery thought that on reaching the hall, she sawthe gallows, the throne and the guillotine—the travellers to all the door of her liege lord’s office standing open, and the roomare on the great high road, but it has wonderful divergencies, empty. That she went to the ripped-up window in the littleand only Time shall show us whither each traveller is bound. room by the street door to connect her palpitating heart, throughOn a wintry afternoon at twilight, Mrs Flintwinch, having the glass, with living things beyond and outside the hauntedbeen heavy all day, dreamed this dream:house. That she then saw, on the wall over the gateway, theShe thought she was in the kitchen getting the kettle ready for shadows of the two clever ones in conversation above. Thattea, and was warming herself with her feet upon the fender and she then went upstairs with her shoes in her hand, partly to bethe skirt of her gown tucked up, before the collapsed fire in the near the clever ones as a match for most ghosts, and partly tomiddle of the grate, bordered on either hand by a deep cold black hear what they were talking about.ravine. She thought that as she sat thus, musing upon the question ‘None of your nonsense with me,’ said Mr Flintwinch. ‘Iwhether life was not for some people a rather dull invention, she won’t take it from you.’was frightened by a sudden noise behind her. She thought that she Mrs Flintwinch dreamed that she stood behind the door,had been similarly frightened once last week, and that the noise which was just ajar, and most distinctly heard her husband saywas of a mysterious kind—a sound of rustling and of three or four these bold words.179

Charles Dickens‘Flintwinch,’ returned Mrs Clennam, in her usual strong low dence. You did not mean it—’voice, ‘there is a demon of anger in you. Guard against it.’ ‘I won’t have it!’ interposed the contradictory Jeremiah, flingingback the concession. ‘I did mean it.’‘I don’t care whether there’s one or a dozen,’ said MrFlintwinch, forcibly suggesting in his tone that the higher numberwas nearer the mark. ‘If there was fifty, they should all say, choose,’ she replied, after a pause that seemed an angry one.‘I suppose I must leave you to speak in soliloquy if youNone of your nonsense with me, I won’t take it from you— ‘It is useless my addressing myself to a rash and headstrongI’d make ‘em say it, whether they liked it or not.’old man who has a set purpose not to hear me.’‘What have I done, you wrathful man?’ her strong voice ‘Now, I won’t take that from you either,’ said Jeremiah. ‘Iasked.have no such purpose. I have told you I did mean it. Do you‘Done?’ said Mr Flintwinch. ‘Dropped down upon me.’ wish to know why I meant it, you rash and headstrong old‘If you mean, remonstrated with you—’woman?’‘Don’t put words into my mouth that I don’t mean,’ said ‘After all, you only restore me my own words,’ she said,Jeremiah, sticking to his figurative expression with tenacious struggling with her indignation. ‘Yes.’and impenetrable obstinacy: ‘I mean dropped down upon me.’ ‘This is why, then. Because you hadn’t cleared his father to‘I remonstrated with you,’ she began again, ‘because—’ him, and you ought to have done it. Because, before you went‘I won’t have it!’ cried Jeremiah. ‘You dropped down upon into any tantrum about yourself, who are—’me.’‘Hold there, Flintwinch!’ she cried out in a changed voice:‘I dropped down upon you, then, you ill-conditioned man,’ ‘you may go a word too far.’(Jeremiah chuckled at having forced her to adopt his phrase,) The old man seemed to think so. There was another pause,‘for having been needlessly significant to Arthur that morning. and he had altered his position in the room, when he spokeI have a right to complain of it as almost a breach of confi-again more mildly:180

Little Dorrit – Book One‘I was going to tell you why it was. Because, before you forget that I didn’t submit. I suppose you are astonished that Itook your own part, I thought you ought to have taken the part should consider it worth my while to have justice done toof Arthur’s father. Arthur’s father! I had no particular love for Arthur’s father?Arthur’s father. I served Arthur’s father’s uncle, in this house, Hey? It doesn’t matter whether you answer or not, becausewhen Arthur’s father was not much above me—was poorer I know you are, and you know you are. Come, then, I’ll tellas far as his pocket went—and when his uncle might as soon you how it is. I may be a bit of an oddity in point of temper, buthave left me his heir as have left him. He starved in the parlour, this is my temper—I can’t let anybody have entirely their ownand I starved in the kitchen; that was the principal difference in way. You are a determined woman, and a clever woman; andour positions; there was not much more than a flight of breakneckstairs between us. I never took to him in those times; I from it. Who knows that better than I do?’when you see your purpose before you, nothing will turn youdon’t know that I ever took to him greatly at any time. He was ‘Nothing will turn me from it, Flintwinch, when I have justifiedit to myself. Add that.’an undecided, irresolute chap, who had everything but his orphanlife scared out of him when he was young. And when he ‘Justified it to yourself? I said you were the most determinedbrought you home here, the wife his uncle had named for him, woman on the face of the earth (or I meant to say so), and ifI didn’t need to look at you twice (you were a good-looking you are determined to justify any object you entertain, of coursewoman at that time) to know who’d be master. You have stood you’ll do it.’of your own strength ever since. Stand of your own strength ‘Man! I justify myself by the authority of these Books,’ shenow. Don’t lean against the dead.’cried, with stern emphasis, and appearing from the sound that‘I do not—as you call it—lean against the dead.’followed to strike the dead-weight of her arm upon the table.‘But you had a mind to do it, if I had submitted,’ growled ‘Never mind that,’ returned Jeremiah calmly, ‘we won’t enterinto that question at present. However that may be, Jeremiah, ‘and that’s why you drop down upon me. You can’tyou181

Charles Dickenscarry out your purposes, and you make everything go down ‘Please to light the candle, Flintwinch,’ Mrs Clennam wasbefore them. Now, I won’t go down before them. I have been saying, apparently wishing to draw him back into their usualfaithful to you, and useful to you, and I am attached to you. tone. ‘It is nearly time for tea. Little Dorrit is coming, and willBut I can’t consent, and I won’t consent, and I never did consent,and I never will consent to be lost in you. Swallow up Mr Flintwinch lighted the candle briskly, and said as he put itfind me in the dark.’everybody else, and welcome. The peculiarity of my temper down upon the table:is, ma’am, that I won’t be swallowed up alive.’‘What are you going to do with Little Dorrit? Is she to comePerhaps this had Originally been the mainspring of the understandingbetween them. Descrying thus much of force of backwards and forwards here, in the same way, for ever?’to work here for ever? To come to tea here for ever? To comecharacter in Mr Flintwinch, perhaps Mrs Clennam had deemed ‘How can you talk about “for ever” to a maimed creature likealliance with him worth her while.me? Are we not all cut down like the grass of the field, and‘Enough and more than enough of the subject,’ said she was not I shorn by the scythe many years ago: since when Igloomily.have been lying here, waiting to be gathered into the barn?’‘Unless you drop down upon me again,’ returned the persistentFlintwinch, ‘and then you must expect to hear of it again.’ nothing like it—numbers of children and young people, bloom-‘Ay, ay! But since you have been lying here—not near dead—Mistress Affery dreamed that the figure of her lord here beganwalking up and down the room, as if to cool his spleen, and carried; and still here are you, you see, not much changeding women, strong men, and what not, have been cut downand that she ran away; but that, as he did not issue forth when after all. Your time and mine may be a long one yet. When Ishe had stood listening and trembling in the shadowy hall a say for ever, I mean (though I am not poetical) through all ourlittle time, she crept up-stairs again, impelled as before by ghosts time.’ Mr Flintwinch gave this explanation with great calmness,and calmly waited for an and curiosity, and once more cowered outside the door.answer.182

Little Dorrit – Book One‘So long as Little Dorrit is quiet and industrious, and stands ‘Then you don’t care to know?’in need of the slight help I can give her, and deserves it; so ‘I do not.’long, I suppose, unless she withdraws of her own act, she will Mr Flintwinch, having expelled a long significant breath said,continue to come here, I being spared.’with his former emphasis, ‘For I have accidentally—mind!—‘Nothing more than that?’ said Flintwinch, stroking his mouth found out.’and chin.‘Wherever she lives,’ said Mrs Clennam, speaking in one‘What should there be more than that! What could there be unmodulated hard voice, and separating her words as distinctlyas if she were reading them off from separate bits ofmore than that!’ she ejaculated in her sternly wondering way.Mrs Flintwinch dreamed, that, for the space of a minute or metal that she took up one by one, ‘she has made a secret oftwo, they remained looking at each other with the candle betweenthem, and that she somehow derived an impression that ‘After all, perhaps you would rather not have known theit, and she shall always keep her secret from me.’they looked at each other fixedly.fact, any how?’ said Jeremiah; and he said it with a twist, as if‘Do you happen to know, Mrs Clennam,’ Affery’s liege lord his words had come out of him in his own wry shape.then demanded in a much lower voice, and with an amount of ‘Flintwinch,’ said his mistress and partner, flashing into aexpression that seemed quite out of proportion to the simple sudden energy that made Affery start, ‘why do you goad me?purpose of his words, ‘where she lives?’Look round this room. If it is any compensation for my long‘No.’confinement within these narrow limits—not that I complain of‘Would you—now, would you like to know?’ said Jeremiah being afflicted; you know I never complain of that—if it is anywith a pounce as if he had sprung upon her.compensation to me for long confinement to this room, that‘If I cared to know, I should know already. Could I not have while I am shut up from all pleasant change I am also shut upasked her any day?’from the knowledge of some things that I may prefer to avoid183

Charles Dickensknowing, why should you, of all men, grudge me that belief?’ the hall, muttering and calling ‘Affery woman!’ all the way.‘I don’t grudge it to you,’ returned Jeremiah.Affery still remaining behind her apron, he came stumbling down‘Then say no more. Say no more. Let Little Dorrit keep her the kitchen stairs, candle in hand, sidled up to her, twitchedsecret from me, and do you keep it from me also. Let her her apron off, and roused her.come and go, unobserved and unquestioned. Let me suffer, ‘Oh Jeremiah!’ cried Affery, waking. ‘What a start you gaveand let me have what alleviation belongs to my condition. Is it me!’so much, that you torment me like an evil spirit?’‘What have you been doing, woman?’ inquired Jeremiah.‘I asked you a question. That’s all.’‘You’ve been rung for fifty times.’‘I have answered it. So, say no more. Say no more.’ Here ‘Oh Jeremiah,’ said Mistress Affery, ‘I have been a-dreaming!’the sound of the wheeled chair was heard upon the floor, andAffery’s bell rang with a hasty jerk.Reminded of her former achievement in that way, MrMore afraid of her husband at the moment than of the mysterioussound in the kitchen, Affery crept away as lightly and of lighting her up for the illumination of the kitchen.Flintwinch held the candle to her head, as if he had some ideaas quickly as she could, descended the kitchen stairs almost ‘Don’t you know it’s her tea-time?’ he demanded with aas rapidly as she had ascended them, resumed her seat before vicious grin, and giving one of the legs of Mistress Affery’sthe fire, tucked up her skirt again, and finally threw her apron chair a kick.over her head. Then the bell rang once more, and then once ‘Jeremiah? Tea-time? I don’t know what’s come to me. Butmore, and then kept on ringing; in despite of which importunatesummons, Affery still sat behind her apron, recovering dreaming, that I think it must be that.’I got such a dreadful turn, Jeremiah, before I went—off a-her breath.‘Yoogh! Sleepy-Head!’ said Mr Flintwinch, ‘what are youAt last Mr Flintwinch came shuffling down the staircase into talking about?’184

Little Dorrit – Book One‘Such a strange noise, Jeremiah, and such a curious movement.In the kitchen here—just here.’over her head, lest she should see something.went up or down stairs in the dark without having her apronJeremiah held up his light and looked at the blackened ceiling,held down his light and looked at the damp stone floor, dreams, Mrs Flintwinch fell that evening into a haunted state ofWhat with these ghostly apprehensions and her singularturned round with his light and looked about at the spotted mind, from which it may be long before this present narrativeand blotched walls.descries any trace of her recovery. In the vagueness and indistinctnessof all her new experiences and perceptions, as ev-‘Rats, cats, water, drains,’ said Jeremiah.Mistress Affery negatived each with a shake of her head. erything about her was mysterious to herself she began to be‘No, Jeremiah; I have felt it before. I have felt it up-stairs, and mysterious to others: and became as difficult to be made outonce on the staircase as I was going from her room to ours in to anybody’s satisfaction as she found the house and everythingin it difficult to make out to her own.the night—a rustle and a sort of trembling touch behind me.’‘Affery, my woman,’ said Mr Flintwinch grimly, after advancinghis nose to that lady’s lips as a test for the detection of the soft knock came to the door which always announcedShe had not yet finished preparing Mrs Clennam’s tea, whenspirituous liquors, ‘if you don’t get tea pretty quick, old woman, Little Dorrit. Mistress Affery looked on at Little Dorrit takingyou’ll become sensible of a rustle and a touch that’ll send you off her homely bonnet in the hall, and at Mr Flintwinch scrapinghis jaws and contemplating her in silence, as expecting someflying to the other end of the kitchen.’This prediction stimulated Mrs Flintwinch to bestir herself, wonderful consequence to ensue which would frighten her outand to hasten up-stairs to Mrs Clennam’s chamber. But, for of her five wits or blow them all three to pieces.all that, she now began to entertain a settled conviction that After tea there came another knock at the door, announcingthere was something wrong in the gloomy house. Henceforth, Arthur. Mistress Affery went down to let him in, and he saidshe was never at peace in it after daylight departed; and never on entering, ‘Affery, I am glad it’s you. I want to ask you a185

Charles Dickensquestion.’ Affery immediately replied, ‘For goodness sake Flintwinch, reading the paper near Mrs Clennam’s little table:don’t ask me nothing, Arthur! I am frightened out of one half ‘There, jeremiah! Now! What’s that noise?’of my life, and dreamed out of the other. Don’t ask me nothing!I don’t know which is which, or what is what!’—and im-Mr Flintwinch would snarl, turning upon her as if she had cutThen the noise, if there were any, would have ceased, andmediately started away from him, and came near him no more. him down that moment against his will, ‘Affery, old woman,Mistress Affery having no taste for reading, and no sufficient you shall have a dose, old woman, such a dose! You havelight for needlework in the subdued room, supposing her to been dreaming again!’have the inclination, now sat every night in the dimness fromwhich she had momentarily emerged on the evening of ArthurCHAPTER 16 Nobody’s WeaknessClennam’s return, occupied with crowds of wild speculationsand suspicions respecting her mistress and her husband andTHE TIME BEING come for the renewal of his acquaintance withthe noises in the house. When the ferocious devotional exerciseswere engaged in, these speculations would distract Mis-the Meagles family, Clennam, pursuant to contract made betweenhimself and Mr Meagles within the precincts of BleedingHeart Yard, turned his face on a certain Saturday towardstress Affery’s eyes towards the door, as if she expected somedark form to appear at those propitious moments, and makeTwickenham, where Mr Meagles had a cottage-residence ofthe party one too many.his own. The weather being fine and dry, and any English roadOtherwise, Affery never said or did anything to attract theabounding in interest for him who had been so long away, heattention of the two clever ones towards her in any markedsent his valise on by the coach, and set out to walk. A walkdegree, except on certain occasions, generally at about thewas in itself a new enjoyment to him, and one that had rarelyquiet hour towards bed-time, when she would suddenly dartdiversified his life afar off.out of her dim corner, and whisper with a face of terror to MrHe went by Fulham and Putney, for the pleasure of strolling186

Little Dorrit – Book Oneover the heath. It was bright and shining there; and when he the circumstances of his life, united to those of her own story,found himself so far on his road to Twickenham, he found himselfa long way on his road to a number of airier and less whom and himself there were ties of innocent reliance on onepresented the little creature to him as the only person betweensubstantial destinations. They had risen before him fast, in the hand, and affectionate protection on the other; ties of compassion,respect, unselfish interest, gratitude, and pity. Think-healthful exercise and the pleasant road. It is not easy to walkalone in the country without musing upon something. And he ing of her, and of the possibility of her father’s release fromhad plenty of unsettled subjects to meditate upon, though he prison by the unbarring hand of death—the only change ofhad been walking to the Land’s End.circumstance he could foresee that might enable him to beFirst, there was the subject seldom absent from his mind, such a friend to her as he wished to be, by altering her wholethe question, what he was to do henceforth in life; to what manner of life, smoothing her rough road, and giving her aoccupation he should devote himself, and in what direction he home—he regarded her, in that perspective, as his adoptedhad best seek it. He was far from rich, and every day of indecisionand inaction made his inheritance a source of greater there were a last subject in his thoughts, and it lay towardsdaughter, his poor child of the Marshalsea hushed to rest. Ifanxiety to him. As often as he began to consider how to increasethis inheritance, or to lay it by, so often his misgiving than the pervading atmosphere in which these other subjectsTwickenham, its form was so indefinite that it was little morethat there was some one with an unsatisfied claim upon his floated before him.justice, returned; and that alone was a subject to outlast the He had crossed the heath and was leaving it behind when helongest walk. Again, there was the subject of his relations with gained upon a figure which had been in advance of him forhis mother, which were now upon an equable and peaceful some time, and which, as he gained upon it, he thought hebut never confidential footing, and whom he saw several times knew. He derived this impression from something in the turn ofa week. Little Dorrit was a leading and a constant subject: for the head, and in the figure’s action of consideration, as it went187

Charles Dickenson at a sufficiently sturdy walk. But when the man—for it was been too much accustomed to combine what was original anda man’s figure—pushed his hat up at the back of his head, and daring in conception with what was patient and minute in execution,to be by any means an ordinary man. It was at firststopped to consider some object before him, he knew it to beDaniel Doyce.difficult to lead him to speak about himself, and he put off‘How do you do, Mr Doyce?’ said Clennam, overtaking Arthur’s advances in that direction by admitting slightly, ohhim. ‘I am glad to see you again, and in a healthier place than yes, he had done this, and he had done that, and such a thingthe Circumlocution Office.’was of his making, and such another thing was his discovery,‘Ha! Mr Meagles’s friend!’ exclaimed that public criminal, but it was his trade, you see, his trade; until, as he graduallycoming out of some mental combinations he had been making, became assured that his companion had a real interest in hisand offering his hand. ‘I am glad to see you, sir. Will you excuseme if I forget your name?’that he was the son of a north-country blacksmith, and hadaccount of himself, he frankly yielded to it. Then it appeared‘Readily. It’s not a celebrated name. It’s not Barnacle.’ ‘No, originally been apprenticed by his widowed mother to a lockmaker;that he had ‘struck out a few little things’ at the lock-no,’ said Daniel, laughing. ‘And now I know what it is. It’sClennam. How do you do, Mr Clennam?’maker’s, which had led to his being released from his indentureswith a present, which present had enabled him to gratify‘I have some hope,’ said Arthur, as they walked on together,‘that we may be going to the same place, Mr Doyce.’ his ardent wish to bind himself to a working engineer, under‘Meaning Twickenham?’ returned Daniel. ‘I am glad to hear whom he had laboured hard, learned hard, and lived hard,it.’seven years. His time being out, he had ‘worked in the shop’They were soon quite intimate, and lightened the way with a at weekly wages seven or eight years more; and had then betakenhimself to the banks of the Clyde, where he had studied,variety of conversation. The ingenious culprit was a man ofgreat modesty and good sense; and, though a plain man, had and filed, and hammered, and improved his knowledge, theo-188

Little Dorrit – Book Oneretical and practical, for six or seven years more. There he had ‘He can’t do it,’ said Doyce, shaking his head with a thoughtfulsmile. ‘It’s not put into his head to be buried. It’s put intohad an offer to go to Lyons, which he had accepted; and fromLyons had been engaged to go to Germany, and in Germany his head to be made useful. You hold your life on the conditionhad had an offer to go to St Petersburg, and there had done that to the last you shall struggle hard for it. Every man holds avery well indeed—never better. However, he had naturally discovery on the same terms.’felt a preference for his own country, and a wish to gain distinctionthere, and to do whatever service he could do, there quiet companion, ‘you are not finally discouraged even now?’‘That is to say,’ said Arthur, with a growing admiration of hisrather than elsewhere. And so he had come home. And so at ‘I have no right to be, if I am,’ returned the other. ‘The thinghome he had established himself in business, and had invented is as true as it ever was.’and executed, and worked his way on, until, after a dozen When they had walked a little way in silence, Clennam, atyears of constant suit and service, he had been enrolled in the once to change the direct point of their conversation and notGreat British Legion of Honour, the Legion of the Rebuffed of to change it too abruptly, asked Mr Doyce if he had any partnerin his business to relieve him of a portion of its anxieties?the Circumlocution Office, and had been decorated with theGreat British Order of Merit, the Order of the Disorder of the ‘No,’ he returned, ‘not at present. I had when I first entered onBarnacles and Stiltstalkings.it, and a good man he was. But he has been dead some years;‘it is much to be regretted,’ said Clennam, ‘that you ever and as I could not easily take to the notion of another when I lostturned your thoughts that way, Mr Doyce.’him, I bought his share for myself and have gone on by myself‘True, sir, true to a certain extent. But what is a man to do? ever since. And here’s another thing,’ he said, stopping for a momentwith a good-humoured laugh in his eyes, and laying his closedif he has the misfortune to strike out something serviceable tothe nation, he must follow where it leads him.’ ‘Hadn’t he betterlet it go?’ said Clennam.arm, ‘no inventor can be a man of business, youright hand, with its peculiar suppleness of thumb, on Clennam’sknow.’189

Charles Dickens‘No?’ said Clennam.Works are enough for me as I grow older. What with the books‘Why, so the men of business say,’ he answered, resuming and correspondence, and foreign journeys for which a Principalis necessary, I can’t do all. I am going to talk over the bestthe walk and laughing outright. ‘I don’t know why we unfortunatecreatures should be supposed to want common sense, way of negotiating the matter, if I find a spare half-hour betweenthis and Monday morning, with my—my Nurse andbut it is generally taken for granted that we do. Even the bestfriend I have in the world, our excellent friend over yonder,’ protector,’ said Doyce, with laughing eyes again. ‘He is a sagaciousman in business, and has had a good apprenticeshipsaid Doyce, nodding towards Twickenham, ‘extends a sort ofprotection to me, don’t you know, as a man not quite able to to it.’take care of himself?’After this, they conversed on different subjects until they arrivedat their journey’s end. A composed and unobtrusive self-Arthur Clennam could not help joining in the good-humouredlaugh, for he recognised the truth of the description. sustainment was noticeable in Daniel Doyce—a calm knowledgethat what was true must remain true, in spite of all the‘So I find that I must have a partner who is a man of businessand not guilty of any inventions,’ said Daniel Doyce, takingoff his hat to pass his hand over his forehead, ‘if it’s only in neither more nor less when even that sea had run dry—whichBarnacles in the family ocean, and would be just the truth, anddeference to the current opinion, and to uphold the credit of had a kind of greatness in it, though not of the official quality.the Works. I don’t think he’ll find that I have been very remiss As he knew the house well, he conducted Arthur to it by theor confused in my way of conducting them; but that’s for him way that showed it to the best advantage. It was a charmingto say—whoever he is—not for me.’ ‘You have not chosen place (none the worse for being a little eccentric), on the roadhim yet, then?’by the river, and just what the residence of the Meagles family‘No, sir, no. I have only just come to a decision to take one. ought to be. It stood in a garden, no doubt as fresh and beautifulin the May of the Year as Pet now was in the May of The fact is, there’s more to do than there used to be, and theher190

Little Dorrit – Book Onelife; and it was defended by a goodly show of handsome trees The bell at the gate had scarcely sounded when Mr Meaglesand spreading evergreens, as Pet was by Mr and Mrs Meagles. came out to receive them. Mr Meagles had scarcely comeIt was made out of an old brick house, of which a part had out, when Mrs Meagles came out. Mrs Meagles had scarcelybeen altogether pulled down, and another part had been come out, when Pet came out. Pet scarcely had come out,changed into the present cottage; so there was a hale elderly when Tattycoram came out. Never had visitors a more hospitablereception.portion, to represent Mr and Mrs Meagles, and a young picturesque,very pretty portion to represent Pet. There was even ‘Here we are, you see,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘boxed up, Mrthe later addition of a conservatory sheltering itself against it, Clennam, within our own home-limits, as if we were neveruncertain of hue in its deep-stained glass, and in its more transparentportions flashing to the sun’s rays, now like fire and eh? No allonging and marshonging here!’going to expand—that is, travel—again. Not like Marseilles,now like harmless water drops; which might have stood for ‘A different kind of beauty, indeed!’ said Clennam, lookingTattycoram. Within view was the peaceful river and the ferryboat,to moralise to all the inmates saying: Young or old, pas-‘But, Lord bless me!’ cried Mr Meagles, rubbing his handsabout him.sionate or tranquil, chafing or content, you, thus runs the currentalways. Let the heart swell into what discord it will, thus quarantine, wasn’t it? Do you know, I have often wished my-with a relish, ‘it was an uncommonly pleasant thing being inplays the rippling water on the prow of the ferry-boat ever the self back again? We were a capital party.’same tune. Year after year, so much allowance for the drifting This was Mr Meagles’s invariable habit. Always to objectof the boat, so many miles an hour the flowing of the stream, to everything while he was travelling, and always to want tohere the rushes, there the lilies, nothing uncertain or unquiet, get back to it when he was not travelling.upon this road that steadily runs away; while you, upon your ‘If it was summer-time,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘which I wish itflowing road of time, are so capricious and distracted. was on your account, and in order that you might see the place191

Charles Dickensat its best, you would hardly be able to hear yourself speak for up hangings; but it was easy to see that it was one of Mrbirds. Being practical people, we never allow anybody to scare Meagles’s whims to have the cottage always kept, in theirthe birds; and the birds, being practical people too, come about absence, as if they were always coming back the day after tomorrow.Of articles collected on his various expeditions, thereus in myriads. We are delighted to see you, Clennam (if you’llallow me, I shall drop the Mister); I heartily assure you, we was such a vast miscellany that it was like the dwelling of anare delighted.’amiable Corsair. There were antiquities from Central Italy, made‘I have not had so pleasant a greeting,’ said Clennam—then by the best modern houses in that department of industry; bitshe recalled what Little Dorrit had said to him in his own room, of mummy from Egypt (and perhaps Birmingham); model gondolasfrom Venice; model villages from Switzerland; morselsand faithfully added ‘except once—since we last walked toand fro, looking down at the Mediterranean.’of tesselated pavement from Herculaneum and Pompeii, like‘Ah!’ returned Mr Meagles. ‘Something like a look out, that petrified minced veal; ashes out of tombs, and lava out ofwas, wasn’t it? I don’t want a military government, but I Vesuvius; Spanish fans, Spezzian straw hats, Moorish slippers,Tuscan hairpins, Carrara sculpture, Trastaverini scarves,shouldn’t mind a little allonging and marshonging—just a dashof it—in this neighbourhood sometimes. It’s Devilish still.’ Genoese velvets and filigree, Neapolitan coral, Roman cameos,Geneva jewellery, Arab lanterns, rosaries blest all roundBestowing this eulogium on the retired character of his retreatwith a dubious shake of the head, Mr Meagles led the by the Pope himself, and an infinite variety of lumber. Thereway into the house. It was just large enough, and no more; were views, like and unlike, of a multitude of places; and therewas as pretty within as it was without, and was perfectly wellarrangedand comfortable.sticky old Saints, with sinews like whipcord, hair like Neptune’s,was one little picture-room devoted to a few of the regularSome traces of the migratory habits of the family were to be wrinkles like tattooing, and such coats of varnish that everyobserved in the covered frames and furniture, and wrapped-holy personage served for a fly-trap, and became what is now192

Little Dorrit – Book Onecalled in the vulgar tongue a Catch-em-alive O. Of these pictorialacquisitions Mr Meagles spoke in the usual manner. He When I left the Bank for good, I asked for them, and broughtthought of gadding about than I now think of—staying at home.was no judge, he said, except of what pleased himself; he had them away with me.picked them up, dirt-cheap, and people had considered them I mention it at once, or you might suppose that I sit in myrather fine. One man, who at any rate ought to know somethingof the subject, had declared that ‘Sage, Reading’ (a spe-the four-and-twenty blackbirds, counting out my money.’counting-house (as Pet says I do), like the king in the poem ofcially oily old gentleman in a blanket, with a swan’s-down tippetfor a beard, and a web of cracks all over him like rich pie-of two pretty little girls with their arms entwined. ‘Yes,Clennam’s eyes had strayed to a natural picture on the wall,crust), to be a fine Guercino. As for Sebastian del Piombo Clennam,’ said Mr Meagles, in a lower voice. ‘There theythere, you would judge for yourself; if it were not his later both are. It was taken some seventeen years ago. As I oftenmanner, the question was, Who was it? Titian, that might or say to Mother, they were babies then.’might not be—perhaps he had only touched it. Daniel Doyce ‘Their names?’ said Arthur.said perhaps he hadn’t touched it, but Mr Meagles rather declinedto overhear the remark.Pet’s name is Minnie; her sister’s Lillie.’‘Ah, to be sure! You have never heard any name but Pet.When he had shown all his spoils, Mr Meagles took them ‘Should you have known, Mr Clennam, that one of theminto his own snug room overlooking the lawn, which was fitted was meant for me?’ asked Pet herself, now standing in theup in part like a dressing-room and in part like an office, and in doorway.which, upon a kind of counter-desk, were a pair of brass scales ‘I might have thought that both of them were meant for you,for weighing gold, and a scoop for shovelling out money. both are still so like you. Indeed,’ said Clennam, glancing from‘Here they are, you see,’ said Mr Meagles. ‘I stood behind the fair original to the picture and back, ‘I cannot even nowthese two articles five-and-thirty years running, when I no more say which is not your portrait.’ ‘D’ye hear that, Mother?’ cried193

Charles DickensMr Meagles to his wife, who had followed her daughter. ‘It’s Clennam could not help speculating, as he seated himself inalways the same, Clennam; nobody can decide. The child to his room by the fire, whether there might be in the breast ofyour left is Pet.’this honest, affectionate, and cordial Mr Meagles, any microscopicportion of the mustard-seed that had sprung up into theThe picture happened to be near a looking-glass. As Arthurlooked at it again, he saw, by the reflection of the mirror, great tree of the Circumlocution Office. His curious sense of aTattycoram stop in passing outside the door, listen to what general superiority to Daniel Doyce, which seemed to bewas going on, and pass away with an angry and contemptuous founded, not so much on anything in Doyce’s personal characteras on the mere fact of his being an originator and a manfrown upon her face, that changed its beauty into ugliness.‘But come!’ said Mr Meagles. ‘You have had a long walk, out of the beaten track of other men, suggested the idea. Itand will be glad to get your boots off. As to Daniel here, I might have occupied him until he went down to dinner an hoursuppose he’d never think of taking his boots off, unless we afterwards, if he had not had another question to consider,showed him a boot-jack.’which had been in his mind so long ago as before he was in‘Why not?’ asked Daniel, with a significant smile at Clennam. quarantine at Marseilles, and which had now returned to it,‘Oh! You have so many things to think about,’ returned Mr and was very urgent with it. No less a question than this:Meagles, clapping him on the shoulder, as if his weakness must Whether he should allow himself to fall in love with Pet?not be left to itself on any account. ‘Figures, and wheels, and He was twice her age. (He changed the leg he had crossedcogs, and levers, and screws, and cylinders, and a thousand over the other, and tried the calculation again, but could notthings.’bring out the total at less.) He was twice her age. Well! He‘In my calling,’ said Daniel, amused, ‘the greater usually includesthe less. But never mind, never mind! Whatever pleases in heart. A man was certainly not old at forty; and many menwas young in appearance, young in health and strength, youngyou, pleases me.’were not in circumstances to marry, or did not marry, until they194

Little Dorrit – Book Onehad attained that time of life. On the other hand, the question There were only five, at a round table, and it was very pleasantindeed. They had so many places and people to recall, andwas, not what he thought of the point, but what she thought ofit.they were all so easy and cheerful together (Daniel DoyceHe believed that Mr Meagles was disposed to entertain a either sitting out like an amused spectator at cards, or comingripe regard for him, and he knew that he had a sincere regard in with some shrewd little experiences of his own, when it happenedto be to the purpose), that they might have been to-for Mr Meagles and his good wife. He could foresee that torelinquish this beautiful only child, of whom they were so fond, gether twenty times, and not have known so much of one another.to any husband, would be a trial of their love which perhapsthey never yet had had the fortitude to contemplate. But the ‘And Miss Wade,’ said Mr Meagles, after they had recalledmore beautiful and winning and charming she, the nearer they a number of fellow-travellers. ‘Has anybody seen Miss Wade?’must always be to the necessity of approaching it. And why ‘I have,’ said Tattycoram.not in his favour, as well as in another’s?She had brought a little mantle which her young mistress hadWhen he had got so far, it came again into his head that the sent for, and was bending over her, putting it on, when shequestion was, not what they thought of it, but what she thought lifted up her dark eyes and made this unexpected answer.of it.‘Tatty!’ her young mistress exclaimed. ‘You seen MissArthur Clennam was a retiring man, with a sense of many Wade?—where?’deficiencies; and he so exalted the merits of the beautiful Minnie ‘Here, miss,’ said Tattycoram.in his mind, and depressed his own, that when he pinned himselfto this point, his hopes began to fail him. He came to the An impatient glance from Tattycoram seemed, as Clennam‘How?’final resolution, as he made himself ready for dinner, that he saw it, to answer ‘With my eyes!’ But her only answer in wordswould not allow himself to fall in love with Pet.was: ‘I met her near the church.’195

Charles Dickens‘What was she doing there I wonder!’ said Mr Meagles. ‘So she wrote to me to say that if I ever felt myself hurt,’ she‘Not going to it, I should think.’looked down at her young mistress, ‘or found myself worried,’she looked down at her again, ‘I might go to her, and be‘She had written to me first,’ said Tattycoram.‘Oh, Tatty!’ murmured her mistress, ‘take your hands away. considerately treated. I was to think of it, and could speak toI feel as if some one else was touching me!’her by the church. So I went there to thank her.’She said it in a quick involuntary way, but half playfully, and ‘Tatty,’ said her young mistress, putting her hand up overnot more petulantly or disagreeably than a favourite child might her shoulder that the other might take it, ‘Miss Wade almosthave done, who laughed next moment. Tattycoram set her full frightened me when we parted, and I scarcely like to think ofred lips together, and crossed her arms upon her bosom. ‘Did her just now as having been so near me without my knowing it.you wish to know, sir,’ she said, looking at Mr Meagles, ‘what Tatty dear!’Miss Wade wrote to me about?’Tatty stood for a moment, immovable.‘Well, Tattycoram,’ returned Mr Meagles, ‘since you ask ‘Hey?’ cried Mr Meagles. ‘Count another five-and-twenty,the question, and we are all friends here, perhaps you may as Tattycoram.’well mention it, if you are so inclined.’She might have counted a dozen, when she bent and put her‘She knew, when we were travelling, where you lived,’ said lips to the caressing hand. It patted her cheek, as it touchedTattycoram, ‘and she had seen me not quite—not quite—’ the owner’s beautiful curls, and Tattycoram went away.‘Not quite in a good temper, Tattycoram?’ suggested Mr ‘Now there,’ said Mr Meagles softly, as he gave a turn toMeagles, shaking his head at the dark eyes with a quiet caution.‘Take a little time—count five-and-twenty, Tattycoram.’ himself. ‘There’s a girl who might be lost and ruined, if shethe dumb-waiter on his right hand to twirl the sugar towardsShe pressed her lips together again, and took a long deep wasn’t among practical people. Mother and I know, solelybreath.from being practical, that there are times when that girl’s whole196

Little Dorrit – Book Onenature seems to roughen itself against seeing us so bound up in resented in that portrait (her hair was reddish-grey in thePet. No father and mother were bound up in her, poor soul. I kitchen), established herself in the breakfast-room, put herdon’t like to think of the way in which that unfortunate child, spectacles between two particular leaves of Doctor Buchan’swith all that passion and protest in her, feels when she hears Domestic Medicine, and sat looking over the blind all day untilthe Fifth Commandment on a Sunday. I am always inclined to they came back again. It was supposed that no persuasioncall out, Church, Count five-and-twenty, Tattycoram.’ could be invented which would induce Mrs Tickit to abandonBesides his dumb-waiter, Mr Meagles had two other not her post at the blind, however long their absence, or to dispensewith the attendance of Dr Buchan; the lucubrations ofdumb waiters in the persons of two parlour-maids with rosyfaces and bright eyes, who were a highly ornamental part of which learned practitioner, Mr Meagles implicitly believed shethe table decoration. ‘And why not, you see?’ said Mr Meagles had never yet consulted to the extent of one word in her life.on this head. ‘As I always say to Mother, why not have somethingpretty to look at, if you have anything at all?’ A certain sat looking over her father’s hand, or singing to herself by fitsIn the evening they played an old-fashioned rubber; and PetMrs Tickit, who was Cook and Housekeeper when the family and starts at the piano. She was a spoilt child; but how couldwere at home, and Housekeeper only when the family were she be otherwise? Who could be much with so pliable andaway, completed the establishment. Mr Meagles regretted that beautiful a creature, and not yield to her endearing influence?the nature of the duties in which she was engaged, rendered Who could pass an evening in the house, and not love her forMrs Tickit unpresentable at present, but hoped to introduce the grace and charm of her very presence in the room? Thisher to the new visitor to-morrow. She was an important part was Clennam’s reflection, notwithstanding the final conclusionof the Cottage, he said, and all his friends knew her. That was at which he had arrived up-stairs.her picture up in the corner. When they went away, she alwaysput on the silk-gown and the jet-black row of curls rep-good sir?’ asked the astonished Mr Meagles, who was hisIn making it, he revoked. ‘Why, what are you thinking of, mypartner.197

Charles Dickens‘I beg your pardon. Nothing,’ returned Clennam.sons, wish to devote myself and what means I have, to anotherpursuit.’‘Think of something, next time; that’s a dear fellow,’ saidMr Meagles.‘Right! You can’t do it too soon,’ said Mr Meagles.Pet laughingly believed he had been thinking of Miss Wade. ‘Now, as I came down to-day, I found that your friend, Mr‘Why of Miss Wade, Pet?’ asked her father.Doyce, is looking for a partner in his business—not a partner‘Why, indeed!’ said Arthur Clennam.in his mechanical knowledge, but in the ways and means ofPet coloured a little, and went to the piano again.turning the business arising from it to the best account.’As they broke up for the night, Arthur overheard Doyce ask ‘Just so,’ said Mr Meagles, with his hands in his pockets,his host if he could give him half an hour’s conversation before and with the old business expression of face that had belongedbreakfast in the morning? The host replying willingly, Arthur to the scales and scoop.lingered behind a moment, having his own word to add to that ‘Mr Doyce mentioned incidentally, in the course of our conversation,that he was going to take your valuable advice ontopic.‘Mr Meagles,’ he said, on their being left alone, ‘do you the subject of finding such a partner. If you should think ourremember when you advised me to go straight to London?’ views and opportunities at all likely to coincide, perhaps you‘Perfectly well.’ ‘And when you gave me some other good will let him know my available position. I speak, of course, inadvice which I needed at that time?’ignorance of the details, and they may be unsuitable on both‘I won’t say what it was worth,’ answered Mr Meagles: sides.’‘but of course I remember our being very pleasant and confidentialtogether.’belonging to the scales and scoop.‘No doubt, no doubt,’ said Mr Meagles, with the caution‘I have acted on your advice; and having disembarrassed ‘But they will be a question of figures and accounts—’myself of an occupation that was painful to me for many rea-‘Just so, just so,’ said Mr Meagles, with arithmetical soliditybelonging to the scales and scoop.198

Little Dorrit – Book One‘—And I shall be glad to enter into the subject, provided But, as this might have been a reason for coming to the oppositeconclusion, he followed out the theme again a little wayMr Doyce responds, and you think well of it. If you will atpresent, therefore, allow me to place it in your hands, you will in his mind; to justify himself, perhaps.much oblige me.’‘Suppose that a man,’ so his thoughts ran, ‘who had been of‘Clennam, I accept the trust with readiness,’ said Mr age some twenty years or so; who was a diffident man, fromMeagles. ‘And without anticipating any of the points which the circumstances of his youth; who was rather a grave man,you, as a man of business, have of course reserved, I am free from the tenor of his life; who knew himself to be deficient into say to you that I think something may come of this. Of one many little engaging qualities which he admired in others, fromthing you may be perfectly certain. Daniel is an honest man.’ having been long in a distant region, with nothing softening‘I am so sure of it that I have promptly made up my mind to near him; who had no kind sisters to present to her; who hadspeak to you.’ ‘You must guide him, you know; you must steer no congenial home to make her known in; who was a strangerhim; you must direct him; he is one of a crotchety sort,’ said in the land; who had not a fortune to compensate, in any measure,for these defects; who had nothing in his favour but hisMr Meagles, evidently meaning nothing more than that he didnew things and went new ways; ‘but he is as honest as the sun, honest love and his general wish to do right—suppose such aand so good night!’ Clennam went back to his room, sat down man were to come to this house, and were to yield to theagain before his fire, and made up his mind that he was glad he captivation of this charming girl, and were to persuade himselfhad resolved not to fall in love with Pet. She was so beautiful, that he could hope to win her; what a weakness it would be!’so amiable, so apt to receive any true impression given to her He softly opened his window, and looked out upon the sereneriver. Year after year so much allowance for the driftinggentle nature and her innocent heart, and make the man whoshould be so happy as to communicate it, the most fortunate of the ferry-boat, so many miles an hour the flowing of theand enviable of all men, that he was very glad indeed he had stream, here the rushes, there the lilies, nothing uncertain orcome to that conclusion.unquiet.199

Charles DickensWhy should he be vexed or sore at heart? It was not his water with his foot. There was something in his way of spurningthem out of their places with his heel, and getting them intoweakness that he had imagined. It was nobody’s, nobody’swithin his knowledge; why should it trouble him? And yet it the required position, that Clennam thought had an air of crueltyin it. Most of us have more or less frequently derived adid trouble him. And he thought—who has not thought for amoment, sometimes?—that it might be better to flow away similar impression from a man’s manner of doing some verymonotonously, like the river, and to compound for its insensibilityto happiness with its insensibility to pain.even destroying an insentient object.little thing: plucking a flower, clearing away an obstacle, orThe gentleman’s thoughts were preoccupied, as his faceshowed, and he took no notice of a fine Newfoundland dog,CHAPTER 17 Nobody’s Rivalwho watched him attentively, and watched every stone too, inits turn, eager to spring into the river on receiving his master’sBEFORE BREAKFAST in the morning, Arthur walked out to looksign. The ferry-boat came over, however, without his receivingany sign, and when it grounded his master took him by theabout him. As the morning was fine and he had an hour on hishands, he crossed the river by the ferry, and strolled along acollar and walked him into it.footpath through some meadows. When he came back to the‘Not this morning,’ he said to the dog. ‘You won’t do fortowing-path, he found the ferry-boat on the opposite side,ladies’ company, dripping wet. Lie down.’and a gentleman hailing it and waiting to be taken over.Clennam followed the man and the dog into the boat, andThis gentleman looked barely thirty. He was well dressed,took his seat. The dog did as he was ordered. The man remainedstanding, with his hands in his pockets, and toweredof a sprightly and gay appearance, a well-knit figure, and arich dark complexion. As Arthur came over the stile and downbetween Clennam and the prospect. Man and dog both jumpedto the water’s edge, the lounger glanced at him for a moment,lightly out as soon as they touched the other side, and wentand then resumed his occupation of idly tossing stones into the200

Little Dorrit – Book Oneaway. Clennam was glad to be rid of them.had extolled the place. ‘Quite new. I made acquaintance withThe church clock struck the breakfast hour as he walked up it only yesterday afternoon.’the little lane by which the garden-gate was approached. The ‘Ah! Of course this is not its best aspect. It used to lookmoment he pulled the bell a deep loud barking assailed him charming in the spring, before they went away last time. I shouldfrom within the wall.like you to have seen it then.’‘I heard no dog last night,’ thought Clennam. The gate was But for that resolution so often recalled, Clennam might haveopened by one of the rosy maids, and on the lawn were the wished him in the crater of Mount Etna, in return for this civility.Newfoundland dog and the man.‘Miss Minnie is not down yet, gentlemen,’ said the blushing ‘I have had the pleasure of seeing it under many circumstancesduring the last three years, and it’s—a Paradise.’portress, as they all came together in the garden. Then shesaid to the master of the dog, ‘Mr Clennam, sir,’ and tripped It was (at least it might have been, always excepting for thataway.wise resolution) like his dexterous impudence to call it a Paradise.He only called it a Paradise because he first saw her‘Odd enough, Mr Clennam, that we should have met justnow,’ said the man. Upon which the dog became mute. ‘Allowme to introduce myself—Henry Gowan. A pretty place Confusion to him! And ah! how beaming she looked, and howcoming, and so made her out within her hearing to be an angel,this, and looks wonderfully well this morning!’glad! How she caressed the dog, and how the dog knew her!The manner was easy, and the voice agreeable; but still How expressive that heightened colour in her face, that flutteredmanner, her downcast eyes, her irresolute happiness!Clennam thought, that if he had not made that decided resolutionto avoid falling in love with Pet, he would have taken a When had Clennam seen her look like this? Not that theredislike to this Henry Gowan.was any reason why he might, could, would, or should have‘It’s new to you, I believe?’ said this Gowan, when Arthur ever seen her look like this, or that he had ever hoped for201

Charles Dickenshimself to see her look like this; but still—when had he ever ‘Much as usual, sir. Lion and I being determined not to wasteknown her do it!anything of our weekly visit, turned out early, and came overHe stood at a little distance from them. This Gowan when he from Kingston, my present headquarters, where I am makinghad talked about a Paradise, had gone up to her and taken her a sketch or two.’ Then he told how he had met Mr Clennam athand. The dog had put his great paws on her arm and laid his the ferry, and they had come over together.head against her dear bosom. She had laughed and welcomed ‘Mrs Gowan is well, Henry?’ said Mrs Meagles. (Clennamthem, and made far too much of the dog, far, far, too much— became attentive.)that is to say, supposing there had been any third person lookingon who loved her.attentive.) ‘I have taken the liberty of making an addition to‘My mother is quite well, thank you.’ (Clennam became in-She disengaged herself now, and came to Clennam, and put your family dinner-party to-day, which I hope will not be inconvenientto you or to Mr Meagles. I couldn’t very well gether hand in his and wished him good morning, and gracefullymade as if she would take his arm and be escorted into the out of it,’ he explained, turning to the latter. ‘The young fellowhouse. To this Gowan had no objection. No, he knew he was wrote to propose himself to me; and as he is well connected, Itoo safe.thought you would not object to my transferring him here.’There was a passing cloud on Mr Meagles’s good-humoured ‘Who is the young fellow?’ asked Mr Meagles with peculiarface when they all three (four, counting the dog, and he was complacency.the most objectionable but one of the party) came in to breakfast.Neither it, nor the touch of uneasiness on Mrs Meagles as Barnacle, who is in his father’s Department. I can at least guar-‘He is one of the Barnacles. Tite Barnacle’s son, Clarenceshe directed her eyes towards it, was unobserved by Clennam. antee that the river shall not suffer from his visit. He won’t set‘Well, Gowan,’ said Mr Meagles, even suppressing a sigh; it on fire.’‘how goes the world with you this morning?’‘Aye, aye?’ said Meagles. ‘A Barnacle is he? We know202

Little Dorrit – Book Onesomething of that family, eh, Dan? By George, they are at the is his great aunt.’top of the tree, though! Let me see. What relation will this ‘Of course she is.’young fellow be to Lord Decimus now? His Lordship married,in seventeen ninety-seven, Lady Jemima Bilberry, who deed, indeed? We shall be glad to see him. We’ll entertain him‘Aye, aye, aye?’ said Mr Meagles with much interest. ‘In-was the second daughter by the third marriage—no! There I as well as we can, in our humble way; and we shall not starveam wrong! That was Lady Seraphina—Lady Jemima was the him, I hope, at all events.’first daughter by the second marriage of the fifteenth Earl of In the beginning of this dialogue, Clennam had expected someStiltstalking with the Honourable Clementina Toozellem. Very great harmless outburst from Mr Meagles, like that which hadwell. Now this young fellow’s father married a Stiltstalking made him burst out of the Circumlocution Office, holding Doyceand his father married his cousin who was a Barnacle. by the collar. But his good friend had a weakness which noneThe father of that father who married a Barnacle, married a of us need go into the next street to find, and which no amountJoddleby.—I am getting a little too far back, Gowan; I want to of Circumlocution experience could long subdue in him.make out what relation this young fellow is to Lord Decimus.’ Clennam looked at Doyce; but Doyce knew all about it beforehand,and looked at his plate, and made no sign, and said‘That’s easily stated. His father is nephew to Lord Decimus.’‘Nephew—to—Lord—Decimus,’ Mr Meagles luxuriously no word.repeated with his eyes shut, that he might have nothing to distracthim from the full flavour of the genealogical tree. ‘By subject. ‘Clarence is a great ass, but he is one of the dearest‘I am much obliged to you,’ said Gowan, to conclude theGeorge, you are right, Gowan. So he is.’and best fellows that ever lived!’‘Consequently, Lord Decimus is his great uncle.’It appeared, before the breakfast was over, that everybody‘But stop a bit!’ said Mr Meagles, opening his eyes with a whom this Gowan knew was either more or less of an ass, orfresh discovery. ‘Then on the mother’s side, Lady Stiltstalking more or less of a knave; but was, notwithstanding, the most203

Charles Dickenslovable, the most engaging, the simplest, truest, kindest, dearest,best fellow that ever lived. The process by which this un-do it; and, in one particular instance when Gowan stood onpeared to Clennam that her father was unhappy in seeing hervarying result was attained, whatever the premises, might have the other side of the dog, and bent his head at the same time,been stated by Mr Henry Gowan thus: ‘I claim to be always Arthur fancied that he saw tears rise to Mr Meagles’s eyes asbook-keeping, with a peculiar nicety, in every man’s case, and he hurried out of the room. It was either the fact too, or heposting up a careful little account of Good and Evil with him. I fancied further, that Pet herself was not insensible to these littledo this so conscientiously, that I am happy to tell you I find the incidents; that she tried, with a more delicate affection thanmost worthless of men to be the dearest old fellow too: and usual, to express to her good father how much she loved him;am in a condition to make the gratifying report, that there is that it was on this account that she fell behind the rest, both asmuch less difference than you are inclined to suppose between they went to church and as they returned from it, and took hisan honest man and a scoundrel.’ The effect of this cheering arm. He could not have sworn but that as he walked alone indiscovery happened to be, that while he seemed to be scrupulouslyfinding good in most men, he did in reality lower it where in her father’s room, clinging to both her parents with the great-the garden afterwards, he had an instantaneous glimpse of herit was, and set it up where it was not; but that was its only est tenderness, and weeping on her father’s shoulder.disagreeable or dangerous feature.The latter part of the day turning out wet, they were fain toIt scarcely seemed, however, to afford Mr Meagles as much keep the house, look over Mr Meagles’s collection, and beguilethe time with conversation. This Gowan had plenty to saysatisfaction as the Barnacle genealogy had done. The cloudthat Clennam had never seen upon his face before that morning,frequently overcast it again; and there was the same shadow appeared to be an artist by profession, and to have been atfor himself, and said it in an off-hand and amusing manner. Heof uneasy observation of him on the comely face of his wife. Rome some time; yet he had a slight, careless, amateur wayMore than once or twice when Pet caressed the dog, it ap-with him—a perceptible limp, both in his devotion to art and204

Little Dorrit – Book Onehis attainments—which Clennam could scarcely understand. next Barnacle in power had added certain shady and sedateHe applied to Daniel Doyce for help, as they stood together, apartments in the Palaces at Hampton Court, where the oldlooking out of window.lady still lived, deploring the degeneracy of the times in companywith several other old ladies of both sexes. Her son, Mr‘You know Mr Gowan?’ he said in a low voice.‘I have seen him here. Comes here every Sunday when they Henry Gowan, inheriting from his father, the Commissioner,are at home.’that very questionable help in life, a very small independence,‘An artist, I infer from what he says?’had been difficult to settle; the rather, as public appointments‘A sort of a one,’ said Daniel Doyce, in a surly tone. chanced to be scarce, and his genius, during his earlier manhood,was of that exclusively agricultural character which ap-‘What sort of a one?’ asked Clennam, with a smile.‘Why, he has sauntered into the Arts at a leisurely Pall-Mall plies itself to the cultivation of wild oats. At last he had declaredthat he would become a Painter; partly because he hadpace,’ said Doyce, ‘and I doubt if they care to be taken quiteso coolly.’always had an idle knack that way, and partly to grieve thePursuing his inquiries, Clennam found that the Gowan family souls of the Barnacles-in-chief who had not provided for him.were a very distant ramification of the Barnacles; and that the So it had come to pass successively, first, that several distinguishedladies had been frightfully shocked; then, that portfo-paternal Gowan, originally attached to a legation abroad, hadbeen pensioned off as a Commissioner of nothing particular lios of his performances had been handed about o’ nights, andsomewhere or other, and had died at his post with his drawn declared with ecstasy to be perfect Claudes, perfect Cuyps,salary in his hand, nobly defending it to the last extremity. In perfect phaenomena; then, that Lord Decimus had bought hisconsideration of this eminent public service, the Barnacle then picture, and had asked the President and Council to dinner atin power had recommended the Crown to bestow a pension a blow, and had said, with his own magnificent gravity, ‘Doof two or three hundred a-year on his widow; to which the you know, there appears to me to be really immense merit in205

Charles Dickensthat work?’ and, in short, that people of condition had absolutelytaken pains to bring him into fashion. But, somehow, it nity of taking his friend into a window, and saying, in a nasalEven then, he was obliged to embrace the earliest opportu-had all failed. The prejudiced public had stood out against it way that was a part of his general debility:obstinately. They had determined not to admire Lord Decimus’s ‘I want to speak to you, Gowan. I say. Look here. Who ispicture. They had determined to believe that in every service, that fellow?’except their own, a man must qualify himself, by striving early ‘A friend of our host’s. None of mine.’and late, and by working heart and soul, might and main. So ‘He’s a most ferocious Radical, you know,’ said Young Barnacle.now Mr Gowan, like that worn-out old coffin which neverwas Mahomet’s nor anybody else’s, hung midway between ‘Is he? How do you know?’two points: jaundiced and jealous as to the one he had left: ‘Ecod, sir, he was Pitching into our people the other day injaundiced and jealous as to the other that he couldn’t reach. the most tremendous manner. Went up to our place and PitchedSuch was the substance of Clennam’s discoveries concerninghim, made that rainy Sunday afternoon and afterwards. out. Came back to our Department, and Pitched into me. Lookinto my father to that extent that it was necessary to order himAbout an hour or so after dinner time, Young Barnacle appeared,attended by his eye-glass; in honour of whose family ‘What did he want?’here. You never saw such a fellow.’connections, Mr Meagles had cashiered the pretty parlourmaidsfor the day, and had placed on duty in their stead two know, you know! Pervaded our Department—without an ap-‘Ecod, sir,’ returned Young Barnacle, ‘he said he wanted todingy men. Young Barnacle was in the last degree amazed and pointment—and said he wanted to know!’disconcerted at sight of Arthur, and had murmured involuntarily,‘Look here! upon my soul, you know!’ before his pres-accompanied this disclosure, would have strained his eyes in-The stare of indignant wonder with which Young Barnacleence of mind returned.juriously but for the opportune relief of dinner. Mr Meagles206

Little Dorrit – Book One(who had been extremely solicitous to know how his uncle ties, but never released him from the necessity of looking atand aunt were) begged him to conduct Mrs Meagles to the Clennam. And whenever Clennam spoke, this ill-starred youngdining-room. And when he sat on Mrs Meagles’s right hand, man was clearly seized with a dread that he was coming, byMr Meagles looked as gratified as if his whole family were some artful device, round to that point of wanting to know,there.you know.All the natural charm of the previous day was gone. The It may be questioned, therefore, whether any one but Mreaters of the dinner, like the dinner itself, were lukewarm, insipid,overdone—and all owing to this poor little dull Young ever, thoroughly enjoyed Young Barnacle. As a mere flask ofMeagles had much enjoyment of the time. Mr Meagles, how-Barnacle. Conversationless at any time, he was now the victim the golden water in the tale became a full fountain when it wasof a weakness special to the occasion, and solely referable to poured out, so Mr Meagles seemed to feel that this small spiceClennam. He was under a pressing and continual necessity of of Barnacle imparted to his table the flavour of the whole family-tree.In its presence, his frank, fine, genuine qualities paled;looking at that gentleman, which occasioned his eye-glass toget into his soup, into his wine-glass, into Mrs Meagles’s plate, he was not so easy, he was not so natural, he was striving afterto hang down his back like a bell-rope, and be several times something that did not belong to him, he was not himself. Whatdisgracefully restored to his bosom by one of the dingy men. a strange peculiarity on the part of Mr Meagles, and whereWeakened in mind by his frequent losses of this instrument, should we find another such case!and its determination not to stick in his eye, and more and At last the wet Sunday wore itself out in a wet night; andmore enfeebled in intellect every time he looked at the mysteriousClennam, he applied spoons to his eyes, forks, and other objectionable Gowan went away on foot, accompanied byYoung Barnacle went home in a cab, feebly smoking; and theforeign matters connected with the furniture of the dinner-table. the objectionable dog. Pet had taken the most amiable painsHis discovery of these mistakes greatly increased his difficul-all day to be friendly with Clennam, but Clennam had been a207

Charles Dickenslittle reserved since breakfast—that is to say, would have been, the flame of his candle, slowly resumed:if he had loved her.‘The truth is, he has twice taken his daughter abroad in theWhen he had gone to his own room, and had again thrown hope of separating her from Mr Gowan. He rather thinks shehimself into the chair by the fire, Mr Doyce knocked at the is disposed to like him, and he has painful doubts (I quite agreedoor, candle in hand, to ask him how and at what hour he with him, as I dare say you do) of the hopefulness of such aproposed returning on the morrow? After settling this question,he said a word to Mr Doyce about this Gowan—who ‘There—’ Clennam choked, and coughed, and stopped.marriage.’would have run in his head a good deal, if he had been his ‘Yes, you have taken cold,’ said Daniel Doyce. But withoutrival.looking at him.‘Those are not good prospects for a painter,’ said Clennam. ‘There is an engagement between them, of course?’ said‘No,’ returned Doyce.Clennam airily.Mr Doyce stood, chamber-candlestick in hand, the other ‘No. As I am told, certainly not. It has been solicited on thehand in his pocket, looking hard at the flame of his candle, gentleman’s part, but none has been made. Since their recentwith a certain quiet perception in his face that they were going return, our friend has yielded to a weekly visit, but that is theto say something more. ‘I thought our good friend a little utmost. Minnie would not deceive her father and mother. Youchanged, and out of spirits, after he came this morning?’ said have travelled with them, and I believe you know what a bondClennam.there is among them, extending even beyond this present life.‘Yes,’ returned Doyce.All that there is between Miss Minnie and Mr Gowan, I have‘But not his daughter?’ said Clennam.no doubt we see.’‘No,’ said Doyce.‘Ah! We see enough!’ cried Arthur.There was a pause on both sides. Mr Doyce, still looking at Mr Doyce wished him Good Night in the tone of a man who208

had heard a mournful, not to say despairing, exclamation, andwho sought to infuse some encouragement and hope into themind of the person by whom it had been uttered. Such tonewas probably a part of his oddity, as one of a crotchety band;for how could he have heard anything of that kind, withoutClennam’s hearing it too?The rain fell heavily on the roof, and pattered on the ground,and dripped among the evergreens and the leafless branchesof the trees. The rain fell heavily, drearily. It was a night oftears.If Clennam had not decided against falling in love with Pet; ifhe had had the weakness to do it; if he had, little by little,persuaded himself to set all the earnestness of his nature, allthe might of his hope, and all the wealth of his matured character,on that cast; if he had done this and found that all was lost;he would have been, that night, unutterably miserable. As itwas— As it was, the rain fell heavily, drearily.Little Dorrit – Book OneCHAPTER 18 Little Dorrit’s LoverLITTLE DORRIT HAD not attained her twenty-second birthdaywithout finding a lover. Even in the shallow Marshalsea, theever young Archer shot off a few featherless arrows now andthen from a mouldy bow, and winged a Collegian or two.Little Dorrit’s lover, however, was not a Collegian. He wasthe sentimental son of a turnkey. His father hoped, in the fulnessof time, to leave him the inheritance of an unstained key; andhad from his early youth familiarised him with the duties of hisoffice, and with an ambition to retain the prison-lock in thefamily. While the succession was yet in abeyance, he assistedhis mother in the conduct of a snug tobacco business roundthe corner of Horsemonger Lane (his father being a non-residentturnkey), which could usually command a neat connectionwithin the College walls.Years agone, when the object of his affections was wont tosit in her little arm-chair by the high Lodge-fender, Young John(family name, Chivery), a year older than herself, had eyed herwith admiring wonder. When he had played with her in theyard, his favourite game had been to counterfeit locking her up209

Charles Dickensin corners, and to counterfeit letting her out for real kisses. Though too humble before the ruler of his heart to be sanguine,Young John had considered the object of his attach-When he grew tall enough to peep through the keyhole of thegreat lock of the main door, he had divers times set down his ment in all its lights and shades. Following it out to blissfulfather’s dinner, or supper, to get on as it might on the outer results, he had descried, without self-commendation, a fitnessside thereof, while he stood taking cold in one eye by dint of in it. Say things prospered, and they were united. She, thepeeping at her through that airy perspective.child of the Marshalsea; he, the lock-keeper. There was aIf Young John had ever slackened in his truth in the less fitness in that. Say he became a resident turnkey. She wouldpenetrable days of his boyhood, when youth is prone to wear officially succeed to the chamber she had rented so long. Thereits boots unlaced and is happily unconscious of digestive organs,he had soon strung it up again and screwed it tight. At stood on tip-toe; and, with a trellis-work of scarlet beans andwas a beautiful propriety in that. It looked over the wall, if younineteen, his hand had inscribed in chalk on that part of the a canary or so, would become a very Arbour. There was awall which fronted her lodgings, on the occasion of her birthday,‘Welcome sweet nursling of the Fairies!’ At twenty-three, there was even an appropriate grace in the lock. With the worldcharming idea in that. Then, being all in all to one another,the same hand falteringly presented cigars on Sundays to the shut out (except that part of it which would be shut in); with itsFather of the Marshalsea, and Father of the queen of his soul. troubles and disturbances only known to them by hearsay, asYoung John was small of stature, with rather weak legs and they would be described by the pilgrims tarrying with them onvery weak light hair. One of his eyes (perhaps the eye that their way to the Insolvent Shrine; with the Arbour above, andused to peep through the keyhole) was also weak, and looked the Lodge below; they would glide down the stream of time, inlarger than the other, as if it couldn’t collect itself. Young John pastoral domestic happiness. Young John drew tears from hiswas gentle likewise. But he was great of soul. Poetical, expansive,faithful.churchyard, close against the prison wall, bearing theeyes by finishing the picture with a tombstone in the adjoiningfollow-210

Little Dorrit – Book Oneing touching inscription: ‘Sacred to the Memory of John means and a post of trust, on the other hand, Miss Dorrit hadChivery, Sixty years Turnkey, and fifty years Head Turnkey, family; and that her (Mrs Chivery’s) sentiment was, that twoOf the neighbouring Marshalsea, Who departed this life, universallyrespected, on the thirty-first of December, One thou-not as a diplomatist, had then, from a different point of view,halves made a whole. Mrs Chivery, speaking as a mother andsand eight hundred and eighty-six, Aged eighty-three years. desired her husband to recollect that their John had never beenAlso of his truly beloved and truly loving wife, Amy, whose strong, and that his love had fretted and worrited him enoughmaiden name was Dorrit, Who survived his loss not quite as it was, without his being driven to do himself a mischief, asforty-eight hours, And who breathed her last in the Marshalsea nobody couldn’t say he wouldn’t be if he was crossed. Theseaforesaid. There she was born, There she lived, There she arguments had so powerfully influenced the mind of Mr Chivery,died.’who was a man of few words, that he had on sundry SundayThe Chivery parents were not ignorant of their son’s attachment—indeed it had, on some exceptional occasions, thrown fying that he considered such commendation of him to Goodmornings, given his boy what he termed ‘a lucky touch,’ signi-him into a state of mind that had impelled him to conduct himselfwith irascibility towards the customers, and damage the becoming triumphant. But Young John had never taken cour-Fortune, preparatory to his that day declaring his passion andbusiness—but they, in their turns, had worked it out to desirableconclusions. Mrs Chivery, a prudent woman, had desired occasions that he had returned excited to the tobacco shop,age to make the declaration; and it was principally on theseher husband to take notice that their john’s prospects of the and flown at the customers. In this affair, as in every other,Lock would certainly be strengthened by an alliance with Miss Little Dorrit herself was the last person considered. Her brotherDorrit, who had herself a kind of claim upon the College and and sister were aware of it, and attained a sort of station bywas much respected there. Mrs Chivery had desired her husbandto take notice that if, on the one hand, their John had fiction of the family gentility. Her sister asserted the familymaking a peg of it on which to air the miserably ragged oldgen-211

Charles Dickenstility by flouting the poor swain as he loitered about the prison prevent him. If he did not avail himself of this latter civility, itfor glimpses of his dear. Tip asserted the family gentility, and was only because he had lost the relish for it; inasmuch as hehis own, by coming out in the character of the aristocratic took everything else he could get, and would say at times,brother, and loftily swaggering in the little skittle ground respectingseizures by the scruff of the neck, which there were respectful. Young Chivery, too; really almost with a delicate‘Extremely civil person, Chivery; very attentive man and verylooming probabilities of some gentleman unknown executing perception of one’s position here. A very well conducted familyon some little puppy not mentioned. These were not the only indeed, the Chiveries. Their behaviour gratifies me.’members of the Dorrit family who turned it to account. The devoted Young John all this time regarded the familyNo, no. The Father of the Marshalsea was supposed to with reverence. He never dreamed of disputing their pretensions,but did homage to the miserable Mumbo jumbo theyknow nothing about the matter, of course: his poor dignity couldnot see so low.paraded. As to resenting any affront from her brother, he wouldBut he took the cigars, on Sundays, and was glad to get have felt, even if he had not naturally been of a most pacificthem; and sometimes even condescended to walk up and down disposition, that to wag his tongue or lift his hand against thatthe yard with the donor (who was proud and hopeful then), sacred gentleman would be an unhallowed act. He was sorryand benignantly to smoke one in his society. With no less readinessand condescension did he receive attentions from Chivery be not incompatible with its nobility, and sought to propitiatethat his noble mind should take offence; still, he felt the fact toSenior, who always relinquished his arm-chair and newspaper and conciliate that gallant soul. Her father, a gentleman in misfortune—agentleman of a fine spirit and courtly manners, whoto him, when he came into the Lodge during one of his spellsof duty; and who had even mentioned to him, that, if he would always bore with him—he deeply honoured. Her sister he consideredsomewhat vain and proud, but a young lady of infinitelike at any time after dusk quietly to step out into the forecourtand take a look at the street, there was not much to accomplishments, who could not forget the past. It was an212

Little Dorrit – Book Oneinstinctive testimony to Little Dorrit’s worth and difference from ceived that in addition to these adornments her John carried aall the rest, that the poor young fellow honoured and loved her pair of white kid gloves, and a cane like a little finger-post,for being simply what she was.surmounted by an ivory hand marshalling him the way that heThe tobacco business round the corner of Horsemonger Lane should go; and when she saw him, in this heavy marching order,turn the corner to the right; she remarked to Mr Chivery,was carried out in a rural establishment one story high, whichhad the benefit of the air from the yards of Horsemonger Lane who was at home at the time, that she thought she knew whichjail, and the advantage of a retired walk under the wall of that way the wind blew.pleasant establishment. The business was of too modest a characterto support a life-size Highlander, but it maintained a little visitors that Sunday afternoon, and their Father kept his roomThe Collegians were entertaining a considerable number ofone on a bracket on the door-post, who looked like a fallen for the purpose of receiving presentations. After making theCherub that had found it necessary to take to a kilt. From the tour of the yard, Little Dorrit’s lover with a hurried heart wentportal thus decorated, one Sunday after an early dinner of up-stairs, and knocked with his knuckles at the Father’s door.baked viands, Young John issued forth on his usual Sunday ‘Come in, come in!’ said a gracious voice. The Father’serrand; not empty-handed, but with his offering of cigars. He voice, her father’s, the Marshalsea’s father’s. He was seatedwas neatly attired in a plum-coloured coat, with as large a in his black velvet cap, with his newspaper, three-and-sixpenceaccidentally left on the table, and two chairs arranged.collar of black velvet as his figure could carry; a silken waistcoat,bedecked with golden sprigs; a chaste neckerchief much Everything prepared for holding his Court.in vogue at that day, representing a preserve of lilac pheasants ‘Ah, Young John! How do you do, how do you do!’on a buff ground; pantaloons so highly decorated with sidestripesthat each leg was a three-stringed lute; and a hat of ‘Yes, John Chivery; yes. Nothing to complain of.’‘Pretty well, I thank you, sir. I hope you are the same.’state very high and hard. When the prudent Mrs Chivery per-‘I have taken the liberty, sir, of—’213

Charles Dickens‘Eh?’ The Father of the Marshalsea always lifted up his eyebrowsat this point, and became amiably distraught and smiltion.‘Your father is not on duty at present, I think, John?’walk there better than anywhere.’ He returned to conversainglyabsent in mind.‘No, sir, he comes on later in the afternoon.’ Another twirl‘—A few cigars, sir.’of the great hat, and then Young John said, rising, ‘I am afraid‘Oh!’ (For the moment, excessively surprised.) ‘Thank you, I must wish you good day, sir.’Young John, thank you. But really, I am afraid I am too— ‘So soon? Good day, Young John. Nay, nay,’ with the utmostcondescension, ‘never mind your glove, John. ShakeNo? Well then, I will say no more about it. Put them on themantelshelf, if you please, Young John. And sit down, sit down. hands with it on. You are no stranger here, you know.’You are not a stranger, John.’Highly gratified by the kindness of his reception, Young John‘Thank you, sir, I am sure— Miss;’ here Young John turned descended the staircase. On his way down he met some Collegiansbringing up visitors to be presented, and at that mo-the great hat round and round upon his left-hand, like a slowlytwirling mouse-cage; ‘Miss Amy quite well, sir?’ ‘Yes, John, ment Mr Dorrit happened to call over the banisters with particulardistinctness, ‘Much obliged to you for your little testi-yes; very well. She is out.’ ‘Indeed, sir?’‘Yes, John. Miss Amy is gone for an airing. My young people monial, John!’all go out a good deal. But at their time of life, it’s natural, Little Dorrit’s lover very soon laid down his penny on theJohn.’tollplate of the Iron Bridge, and came upon it looking about him‘Very much so, I am sure, sir.’for the well-known and well-beloved figure. At first he feared‘An airing. An airing. Yes.’ He was blandly tapping his fingerson the table, and casting his eyes up at the window. ‘Amy side, he saw her standing still, looking at the water. She wasshe was not there; but as he walked on towards the Middlesexhas gone for an airing on the Iron Bridge. She has become absorbed in thought, and he wondered what she might be thinkingabout. There were the piles of city roofs and chimneys, quite partial to the Iron Bridge of late, and seems to like tomore214

Little Dorrit – Book Onefree from smoke than on week-days; and there were the distantmasts and steeples. Perhaps she was thinking about them. and said in her soft little voice, ‘Oh, Mr John! Is it you?’ ButIt was but a momentary look, inasmuch as she checked it,Little Dorrit mused so long, and was so entirely preoccupied,that although her lover stood quiet for what he thought stood looking at one another equally confused.she felt what it had been, as he felt what it had been; and theywas a long time, and twice or thrice retired and came back ‘Miss Amy, I am afraid I disturbed you by speaking to you.’again to the former spot, still she did not move. So, in the end, ‘Yes, rather. I—I came here to be alone, and I thought Ihe made up his mind to go on, and seem to come upon her was.’casually in passing, and speak to her. The place was quiet, ‘Miss Amy, I took the liberty of walking this way, becauseand now or never was the time to speak to her.Mr Dorrit chanced to mention, when I called upon him justHe walked on, and she did not appear to hear his steps until now, that you—’he was close upon her. When he said ‘Miss Dorrit!’ she started She caused him more dismay than before by suddenly murmuring,‘O father, father!’ in a heartrending tone, and turningand fell back from him, with an expression in her face of frightand something like dislike that caused him unutterable dismay. her face away.She had often avoided him before—always, indeed, for a long, ‘Miss Amy, I hope I don’t give you any uneasiness by namingMr Dorrit. I assure you I found him very well and in thelong while. She had turned away and glided off so often whenshe had seen him coming toward her, that the unfortunate Young best of Spirits, and he showed me even more than his usualJohn could not think it accidental. But he had hoped that it kindness; being so very kind as to say that I was not a strangermight be shyness, her retiring character, her foreknowledge of there, and in all ways gratifying me very much.’the state of his heart, anything short of aversion. Now, that To the inexpressible consternation of her lover, Little Dorrit,momentary look had said, ‘You, of all people! I would rather with her hands to her averted face, and rocking herself wherehave seen any one on earth than you!’she stood as if she were in pain, murmured, ‘O father, how215

Charles Dickenscan you! O dear, dear father, how can you, can you, do it!’ plain himself, as the greatest favour she could show him.The poor fellow stood gazing at her, overflowing with sympathy,but not knowing what to make of this, until, having taken mine. It were vain to conceal it. There never was a Chivery a‘Miss Amy, I know very well that your family is far aboveout her handkerchief and put it to her still averted face, she gentleman that ever I heard of, and I will not commit the meannessof making a false representation on a subject so momen-hurried away. At first he remained stock still; then hurried afterher.tous. Miss Amy, I know very well that your high-souled brother,‘Miss Amy, pray! Will you have the goodness to stop a moment?Miss Amy, if it comes to that, let ME go. I shall go out I have to do is to respect them, to wish to be admitted to theirand likewise your spirited sister, spurn me from a height. Whatof my senses, if I have to think that I have driven you away like friendship, to look up at the eminence on which they are placedthis.’from my lowlier station—for, whether viewed as tobacco orHis trembling voice and unfeigned earnestness brought Little viewed as the lock, I well know it is lowly—and ever wishDorrit to a stop. ‘Oh, I don’t know what to do,’ she cried, ‘I them well and happy.’don’t know what to do!’There really was a genuineness in the poor fellow, and aTo Young John, who had never seen her bereft of her quiet contrast between the hardness of his hat and the softness ofself-command, who had seen her from her infancy ever so his heart (albeit, perhaps, of his head, too), that was moving.reliable and self-suppressed, there was a shock in her distress,and in having to associate himself with it as its cause, that station, and, above all things, to divest himself of any idea thatLittle Dorrit entreated him to disparage neither himself nor hisshook him from his great hat to the pavement. He felt it necessaryto explain himself. He might be misunderstood—supposed fort.she supposed hers to be superior. This gave him a little com-to mean something, or to have done something, that had never ‘Miss Amy,’ he then stammered, ‘I have had for a long timeentered into his imagination. He begged her to hear him ex-—ages they seem to me—Revolving ages—a heart-cherished216

Little Dorrit – Book Onewish to say something to you. May I say it?’‘O Lord!’ gasped Young John.Little Dorrit involuntarily started from his side again, with the ‘But perhaps you will let me, instead, say something to you.faintest shadow of her former look; conquering that, she went I want to say it earnestly, and with as plain a meaning as it ison at great speed half across the Bridge without replying! possible to express. When you think of us, John—I mean my‘May I—Miss Amy, I but ask the question humbly—may I brother, and sister, and me—don’t think of us as being anysay it? I have been so unlucky already in giving you pain withouthaving any such intentions, before the holy Heavens! that hardly know) we ceased to be long ago, and never can be anydifferent from the rest; for, whatever we once were (which Ithere is no fear of my saying it unless I have your leave. I can more. It will be much better for you, and much better for others,if you will do that instead of what you are doing now.’be miserable alone, I can be cut up by myself, why should Ialso make miserable and cut up one that I would fling myself Young John dolefully protested that he would try to bear it inoff that parapet to give half a moment’s joy to! Not that that’s mind, and would be heartily glad to do anything she wished.much to do, for I’d do it for twopence.’‘As to me,’ said Little Dorrit, ‘think as little of me as youThe mournfulness of his spirits, and the gorgeousness of his can; the less, the better. When you think of me at all, John, letappearance, might have made him ridiculous, but that his delicacymade him respectable. Little Dorrit learnt from it what to one set of duties always occupying her; as a weak, retired,it only be as the child you have seen grow up in the prison withdo.contented, unprotected girl. I particularly want you to remember,that when I come outside the gate, I am unprotected and‘If you please, John Chivery,’ she returned, trembling, but ina quiet way, ‘since you are so considerate as to ask me whether solitary.’you shall say any more—if you please, no.’He would try to do anything she wished. But why did Miss‘Never, Miss Amy?’Amy so much want him to remember that?‘No, if you please. Never.’‘Because,’ returned Little Dorrit, ‘I know I can then quite217

Charles Dickenstrust you not to forget to-day, and not to say any more to me. ‘Good-bye, Miss Amy. Good-bye!’You are so generous that I know I can trust to you for that; And so he left her: first observing that she sat down on theand I do and I always will. I am going to show you, at once, corner of a seat, and not only rested her little hand upon thethat I fully trust you. I like this place where we are speaking rough wall, but laid her face against it too, as if her head werebetter than any place I know;’ her slight colour had faded, but heavy, and her mind were sad. It was an affecting illustrationher lover thought he saw it coming back just then; ‘and I may of the fallacy of human projects, to behold her lover, with thebe often here. I know it is only necessary for me to tell you so, great hat pulled over his eyes, the velvet collar turned up as ifto be quite sure that you will never come here again in search it rained, the plum-coloured coat buttoned to conceal the silkenof me. And I am—quite sure!’waistcoat of golden sprigs, and the little direction-post pointinginexorably home, creeping along by the worst back-streets,She might rely upon it, said Young John. He was a miserablewretch, but her word was more than a law for him.and composing, as he went, the following new inscription for a‘And good-bye, John,’ said Little Dorrit. ‘And I hope you tombstone in St George’s Churchyard:will have a good wife one day, and be a happy man. I am sure ‘Here lie the mortal remains of John Chivery, Never anythingworth mentioning, Who died about the end of the yearyou will deserve to be happy, and you will be, John.’As she held out her hand to him with these words, the heart one thousand eight hundred and twenty-six, Of a broken heart,that was under the waistcoat of sprigs—mere slop-work, if Requesting with his last breath that the word Amy might bethe truth must be known—swelled to the size of the heart of a inscribed over his ashes, which was accordingly directed togentleman; and the poor common little fellow, having no room be done, By his afflicted Parents.’to hold it, burst into tears.‘Oh, don’t cry,’ said Little Dorrit piteously. ‘Don’t, don’t!Good-bye, John. God bless you!’218

Little Dorrit – Book Oneplace, the three-and-sixpence accidentally left on the table hadCHAPTER 19 The Father of the Marshalseaaccidentally increased to twelve shillings, and the Father of thein two or three RelationsMarshalsea refreshed himself with a whiff of cigar. As he walkedup and down, affably accommodating his step to the shuffle ofTHE BROTHERS WILLIAM and Frederick Dorrit, walking up andhis brother, not proud in his superiority, but considerate of thatdown the College-yard—of course on the aristocratic or Pumppoor creature, bearing with him, and breathing toleration of hisside, for the Father made it a point of his state to be chary ofinfirmities in every little puff of smoke that issued from his lipsgoing among his children on the Poor side, except on Sundayand aspired to get over the spiked wall, he was a sight tomornings, Christmas Days, and other occasions of ceremony,wonder at.in the observance whereof he was very punctual, and at whichHis brother Frederick of the dim eye, palsied hand, benttimes he laid his hand upon the heads of their infants, and blessedform, and groping mind, submissively shuffled at his side, acceptinghis patronage as he accepted every incident of thethose young insolvents with a benignity that was highly edifying—thebrothers, walking up and down the College-yard together,were a memorable sight. Frederick the free, was solabyrinthian world in which he had got lost. He held the usualscrewed bit of whitey-brown paper in his hand, from which hehumbled, bowed, withered, and faded; William the bond, wasever and again unscrewed a spare pinch of snuff. That falteringlytaken, he would glance at his brother not unadmiringly,so courtly, condescending, and benevolently conscious of aposition; that in this regard only, if in no other, the brothersput his hands behind him, and shuffle on so at his side until hewere a spectacle to wonder at.took another pinch, or stood still to look about him—perchancesuddenly missing his clarionet. The College visitors wereThey walked up and down the yard on the evening of LittleDorrit’s Sunday interview with her lover on the Iron Bridge.melting away as the shades of night drew on, but the yard wasThe cares of state were over for that day, the Drawing Roomstill pretty full, the Collegians being mostly out, seeing theirhad been well attended, several new presentations had taken219

Charles Dickensfriends to the Lodge. As the brothers paced the yard, William clear of the handle of the pump by the threadbare sleeve.the bond looked about him to receive salutes, returned them Nothing would have been wanting to the perfection of his characteras a fraternal guide, philosopher and friend, if he hadby graciously lifting off his hat, and, with an engaging air, preventedFrederick the free from running against the company, only steered his brother clear of ruin, instead of bringing itor being jostled against the wall. The Collegians as a body upon him.were not easily impressible, but even they, according to their ‘I think, William,’ said the object of his affectionate consideration,‘that I am tired, and will go home to bed.’various ways of wondering, appeared to find in the two brothersa sight to wonder at.‘My dear Frederick,’ returned the other, ‘don’t let me detainyou; don’t sacrifice your inclination to me.’‘You are a little low this evening, Frederick,’ said the Fatherof the Marshalsea. ‘Anything the matter?’‘Late hours, and a heated atmosphere, and years, I suppose,’said Frederick, ‘weaken me.’‘The matter?’ He stared for a moment, and then droppedhis head and eyes again. ‘No, William, no. Nothing is the matter.’‘do you think you are sufficiently careful of yourself? Do you‘My dear Frederick,’ returned the Father of the Marshalsea,‘If you could be persuaded to smarten yourself up a little, think your habits are as precise and methodical as—shall I sayFrederick—’as mine are? Not to revert again to that little eccentricity which‘Aye, aye!’ said the old man hurriedly. ‘But I can’t be. I I mentioned just now, I doubt if you take air and exercisecan’t be. Don’t talk so. That’s all over.’enough, Frederick. Here is the parade, always at your service.Why not use it more regularly than you do?’The Father of the Marshalsea glanced at a passing Collegianwith whom he was on friendly terms, as who should say, ‘An ‘Hah!’ sighed the other. ‘Yes, yes, yes, yes.’enfeebled old man, this; but he is my brother, sir, my brother, ‘But it is of no use saying yes, yes, my dear Frederick,’ theand the voice of Nature is potent!’ and steered his brother Father of the Marshalsea in his mild wisdom persisted, ‘unless220

Little Dorrit – Book Oneyou act on that assent. Consider my case, Frederick. I am a magnanimity of his strength, to press his fallen brother further.kind of example. Necessity and time have taught me what to There was a great deal of leave-taking going on in corners,do. At certain stated hours of the day, you will find me on the as was usual on Sunday nights; and here and there in the dark,parade, in my room, in the Lodge, reading the paper, receivingcompany, eating and drinking. I have impressed upon Amy Collegian. The time had been when the Father himself hadsome poor woman, wife or mother, was weeping with a newduring many years, that I must have my meals (for instance) wept, in the shades of that yard, as his own poor wife hadpunctually. Amy has grown up in a sense of the importance of wept. But it was many years ago; and now he was like a passengeraboard ship in a long voyage, who has recovered fromthese arrangements, and you know what a good girl she is.’The brother only sighed again, as he plodded dreamily along, sea-sickness, and is impatient of that weakness in the fresher‘Hah! Yes, yes, yes, yes.’passengers taken aboard at the last port. He was inclined to‘My dear fellow,’ said the Father of the Marshalsea, laying remonstrate, and to express his opinion that people whohis hand upon his shoulder, and mildly rallying him—mildly, couldn’t get on without crying, had no business there. In manner,if not in words, he always testified his displeasure at thesebecause of his weakness, poor dear soul; ‘you said that before,and it does not express much, Frederick, even if it means interruptions of the general harmony; and it was so well understood,that delinquents usually withdrew if they were aware ofmuch. I wish I could rouse you, my good Frederick; you wantto be roused.’him.‘Yes, William, yes. No doubt,’ returned the other, lifting his On this Sunday evening, he accompanied his brother to thedim eyes to his face. ‘But I am not like you.’gate with an air of endurance and clemency; being in a blandThe Father of the Marshalsea said, with a shrug of modest temper and graciously disposed to overlook the tears. In theself-depreciation, ‘Oh! You might be like me, my dear flaring gaslight of the Lodge, several Collegians were basking;Frederick; you might be, if you chose!’ and forbore, in the some taking leave of visitors, and some who had no visitors,221

Charles Dickenswatching the frequent turning of the key, and conversing with Shaking hands with his brother, and touching his greasy hatone another and with Mr Chivery. The paternal entrance made to the company in the Lodge, Frederick slowly shuffled out ofa sensation of course; and Mr Chivery, touching his hat (in a the door which Mr Chivery unlocked for him. The Father ofshort manner though) with his key, hoped he found himself the Marshalsea showed the amiable solicitude of a superiortolerable.being that he should come to no harm.‘Thank you, Chivery, quite well. And you?’‘Be so kind as to keep the door open a moment, Chivery,Mr Chivery said in a low growl, ‘Oh! he was all right.’ Which that I may see him go along the passage and down the steps.was his general way of acknowledging inquiries after his health Take care, Frederick! (He is very infirm.) Mind the steps! (Hewhen a little sullen.is so very absent.) Be careful how you cross, Frederick. (I‘I had a visit from Young John to-day, Chivery. And very really don’t like the notion of his going wandering at large, hesmart he looked, I assure you.’is so extremely liable to be run over.)’So Mr Chivery had heard. Mr Chivery must confess, however,that his wish was that the boy didn’t lay out so much easy doubts and much anxious guardianship, he turned his re-With these words, and with a face expressive of many un-money upon it. For what did it bring him in? It only brought gards upon the assembled company in the Lodge: so plainlyhim in wexation. And he could get that anywhere for nothing. indicating that his brother was to be pitied for not being under‘How vexation, Chivery?’ asked the benignant father. lock and key, that an opinion to that effect went round among‘No odds,’ returned Mr Chivery. ‘Never mind. Mr Frederick the Collegians assembled.going out?’But he did not receive it with unqualified assent; on the contrary,he said, No, gentlemen, no; let them not misunderstand‘Yes, Chivery, my brother is going home to bed. He is tired,and not quite well. Take care, Frederick, take care. Good him. His brother Frederick was much broken, no doubt, and itnight, my dear Frederick!’might be more comfortable to himself (the Father of the222

Little Dorrit – Book OneMarshalsea) to know that he was safe within the walls. Still, it human nature, the fine spirit animating the Collegians as a community,and at the same time no degradation to himself, and nomust be remembered that to support an existence there duringmany years, required a certain combination of qualities—he depreciation of his claims as a gentleman. Gentlemen, Goddid not say high qualities, but qualities—moral qualities. Now, bless you!had his brother Frederick that peculiar union of qualities? Such was the homily with which he improved and pointedGentlemen, he was a most excellent man, a most gentle, tender,and estimable man, with the simplicity of a child; but would the sallow yard again, and going with his own poor shabbythe occasion to the company in the Lodge before turning intohe, though unsuited for most other places, do for that place? dignity past the Collegian in the dressing-gown who had noNo; he said confidently, no! And, he said, Heaven forbid that coat, and past the Collegian in the sea-side slippers who hadFrederick should be there in any other character than in his no shoes, and past the stout greengrocer Collegian in the corduroyknee-breeches who had no cares, and past the leanpresent voluntary character! Gentlemen, whoever came to thatCollege, to remain there a length of time, must have strength of clerk Collegian in buttonless black who had no hopes, up hischaracter to go through a good deal and to come out of a own poor shabby staircase to his own poor shabby room.good deal. Was his beloved brother Frederick that man? No. There, the table was laid for his supper, and his old greyThey saw him, even as it was, crushed. Misfortune crushed gown was ready for him on his chair-back at the fire. His daughterput her little prayer-book in her pocket—had she beenhim. He had not power of recoil enough, not elasticity enough,to be a long time in such a place, and yet preserve his selfrespectand feel conscious that he was a gentleman. Frederick welcome him.praying for pity on all prisoners and captives!—and rose tohad not (if he might use the expression) Power enough to see Uncle had gone home, then? she asked as she changed hisin any delicate little attentions and—and —Testimonials that coat and gave him his black velvet cap. Yes, uncle had gonehe might under such circumstances receive, the goodness of home. Had her father enjoyed his walk? Why, not much, Amy;223

Charles Dickensnot much. No! Did he not feel quite well?his hands like valves; so conscious all the time of that touch ofAs she stood behind him, leaning over his chair so lovingly, shame, that he shrunk before his own knowledge of his meaning.he looked with downcast eyes at the fire. An uneasiness stoleover him that was like a touch of shame; and when he spoke, ‘I—ha!—I can’t think what it’s owing to. I am sure I cannotas he presently did, it was in an unconnected and embarrassed imagine what the cause of it is. There was a certain Jacksonmanner.here once, a turnkey of the name of Jackson (I don’t think you‘Something, I—hem!—I don’t know what, has gone wrong can remember him, my dear, you were very young), and—with Chivery. He is not—ha!—not nearly so obliging and attentiveas usual to-night. It—hem!—it’s a little thing, but it puts his addresses to—at least, did not go so far as to pay hishem!—and he had a—brother, and this—young brother paidme out, my love. It’s impossible to forget,’ turning his hands addresses to—but admired—respectfully admired—the—notover and over and looking closely at them, ‘that—hem!—that daughter, the sister—of one of us; a rather distinguished Collegian;I may say, very much so. His name was Captain Mar-in such a life as mine, I am unfortunately dependent on thesemen for something every hour in the day.’tin; and he consulted me on the question whether It was necessarythat his daughter—sister—should hazard offending theHer arm was on his shoulder, but she did not look in his facewhile he spoke. Bending her head she looked another way. turnkey brother by being too—ha!—too plain with the other‘I—hem!—I can’t think, Amy, what has given Chivery offence.He is generally so—so very attentive and respectful. and I put it to him first to give me his—his own opinion. Cap-brother. Captain Martin was a gentleman and a man of honour,And to-night he was quite—quite short with me. Other people tain Martin (highly respected in the army) then unhesitatinglythere too! Why, good Heaven! if I was to lose the support and said that it appeared to him that his—hem!—sister was notrecognition of Chivery and his brother officers, I might starve called upon to understand the young man too distinctly, andto death here.’ While he spoke, he was opening and shutting that she might lead him on—I am doubtful whether “lead him224

Little Dorrit – Book Oneon” was Captain Martin’s exact expression: indeed I think he matter whether such a blighted life as mine comes to an end,said tolerate him—on her father’s—I should say, brother’s— now, next week, or next year? What am I worth to anyone? Aaccount. I hardly know how I have strayed into this story. I poor prisoner, fed on alms and broken victuals; a squalid, disgracedwretch!’suppose it has been through being unable to account forChivery; but as to the connection between the two, I don’t ‘Father, father!’ As he rose she went on her knees to him,see—’and held up her hands to him.His voice died away, as if she could not bear the pain of ‘Amy,’ he went on in a suppressed voice, trembling violently,and looking at her as wildly as if he had gone mad. ‘I tellhearing him, and her hand had gradually crept to his lips. For alittle while there was a dead silence and stillness; and he remainedshrunk in his chair, and she remained with her arm believe it to be the creature you have only looked at throughyou, if you could see me as your mother saw me, you wouldn’tround his neck and her head bowed down upon his shoulder. the bars of this cage. I was young, I was accomplished, I wasHis supper was cooking in a saucepan on the fire, and, when good-looking, I was independent—by God I was, child!—she moved, it was to make it ready for him on the table. He and people sought me out, and envied me. Envied me!’took his usual seat, she took hers, and he began his meal. ‘Dear father!’ She tried to take down the shaking arm thatThey did not, as yet, look at one another. By little and little he he flourished in the air, but he resisted, and put her hand away.began; laying down his knife and fork with a noise, taking things ‘If I had but a picture of myself in those days, though it wasup sharply, biting at his bread as if he were offended with it, ever so ill done, you would be proud of it, you would be proudand in other similar ways showing that he was out of sorts. At of it. But I have no such thing. Now, let me be a warning! Letlength he pushed his plate from him, and spoke aloud; with the no man,’ he cried, looking haggardly about, ‘fail to preserve atstrangest inconsistency.least that little of the times of his prosperity and respect. Let‘What does it matter whether I eat or starve? What does it his children have that clue to what he was. Unless my face,225

Charles Dickenswhen I am dead, subsides into the long departed look—they and ask what funeral here (it must be here, I know it can besay such things happen, I don’t know—my children will have nowhere else) will make more talk, and perhaps more grief,never seen me.’than any that has ever gone out at the gate. They’ll say your‘Father, father!’father’s. Well then. Amy! Amy! Is your father so universally‘O despise me, despise me! Look away from me, don’t despised? Is there nothing to redeem him? Will you have nothinglisten to me, stop me, blush for me, cry for me—even you, to remember him by but his ruin and decay? Will you be ableAmy! Do it, do it! I do it to myself! I am hardened now, I have to have no affection for him when he is gone, poor castaway,sunk too low to care long even for that.’gone?’‘Dear father, loved father, darling of my heart!’ She was He burst into tears of maudlin pity for himself, and at lengthclinging to him with her arms, and she got him to drop into his suffering her to embrace him and take charge of him, let hischair again, and caught at the raised arm, and tried to put it grey head rest against her cheek, and bewailed his wretchedness.Presently he changed the subject of his lamentations,round her neck.‘Let it lie there, father. Look at me, father, kiss me, father! and clasping his hands about her as she embraced him, cried,Only think of me, father, for one little moment!’O Amy, his motherless, forlorn child! O the days that he hadStill he went on in the same wild way, though it was graduallybreaking down into a miserable whining.himself, and weakly told her how much better she would haveseen her careful and laborious for him! Then he reverted to‘And yet I have some respect here. I have made some stand loved him if she had known him in his vanished character, andagainst it. I am not quite trodden down. Go out and ask who is how he would have married her to a gentleman who shouldthe chief person in the place. They’ll tell you it’s your father. have been proud of her as his daughter, and how (at which heGo out and ask who is never trifled with, and who is always cried again) she should first have ridden at his fatherly side ontreated with some delicacy. They’ll say, your father. Go out her own horse, and how the crowd (by which he meant in226

Little Dorrit – Book Oneeffect the people who had given him the twelve shillings he favourite of Fortune and the whole world acknowledged him.then had in his pocket) should have trudged the dusty roads When his tears were dried, and he sobbed in his weakness norespectfully.longer, and was free from that touch of shame, and had recoveredhis usual bearing, she prepared the remains of his supperThus, now boasting, now despairing, in either fit a captivewith the jail-rot upon him, and the impurity of his prison worn afresh, and, sitting by his side, rejoiced to see him eat andinto the grain of his soul, he revealed his degenerate state to his drink. For now he sat in his black velvet cap and old greyaffectionate child. No one else ever beheld him in the details of gown, magnanimous again; and would have comported himselftowards any Collegian who might have looked in to askhis humiliation. Little recked the Collegians who were laughingin their rooms over his late address in the Lodge, what a seriouspicture they had in their obscure gallery of the Marshalsea the ethical ceremonies of the Marshalsea.his advice, like a great moral Lord Chesterfield, or Master ofthat Sunday night.To keep his attention engaged, she talked with him about hisThere was a classical daughter once—perhaps—who ministeredto her father in his prison as her mother had ministered shirts she proposed would be exceedingly acceptable, for thosewardrobe; when he was pleased to say, that Yes, indeed, thoseto her. Little Dorrit, though of the unheroic modern stock and he had were worn out, and, being ready-made, had nevermere English, did much more, in comforting her father’s wasted fitted him. Being conversational, and in a reasonable flow ofheart upon her innocent breast, and turning to it a fountain of spirits, he then invited her attention to his coat as it hung behindthe door: remarking that the Father of the place would setlove and fidelity that never ran dry or waned through all hisyears of famine.an indifferent example to his children, already disposed to beShe soothed him; asked him for his forgiveness if she had slovenly, if he went among them out at elbows. He was jocular,too, as to the heeling of his shoes; but became grave on thebeen, or seemed to have been, undutiful; told him, Heavenknows truly, that she could not honour him more if he were the subject of his cravat, and promised her that, when she could227

Charles Dickensafford it, she should buy him a new one.He seemed to be dozing when she returned, and she put theWhile he smoked out his cigar in peace, she made his bed, low fire together very softly lest she should awake him. But heand put the small room in order for his repose. Being weary overheard her, and called out who was that?then, owing to the advanced hour and his emotions, he came ‘Only Amy, father.’out of his chair to bless her and wish her Good night. All this ‘Amy, my child, come here. I want to say a word to you.’time he had never once thought of her dress, her shoes, her He raised himself a little in his low bed, as she kneeled besideneed of anything. No other person upon earth, save herself, it to bring her face near him; and put his hand between hers.could have been so unmindful of her wants.O! Both the private father and the Father of the MarshalseaHe kissed her many times with ‘Bless you, my love. Good were strong within him then.night, my dear!’‘My love, you have had a life of hardship here. No companions,no recreations, many cares I am afraid?’But her gentle breast had been so deeply wounded by whatshe had seen of him that she was unwilling to leave him alone, ‘Don’t think of that, dear. I never do.’lest he should lament and despair again. ‘Father, dear, I am ‘You know my position, Amy. I have not been able to donot tired; let me come back presently, when you are in bed, much for you; but all I have been able to do, I have done.’and sit by you.’‘Yes, my dear father,’ she rejoined, kissing him. ‘I know, IHe asked her, with an air of protection, if she felt solitary? know.’‘Yes, father.’‘I am in the twenty-third year of my life here,’ he said, with a‘Then come back by all means, my love.’catch in his breath that was not so much a sob as an irrepressiblesound of self-approval, the momentary outburst of a noble‘I shall be very quiet, father.’‘Don’t think of me, my dear,’ he said, giving her his kind consciousness. ‘It is all I could do for my children—I havepermission fully. ‘Come back by all means.’done it. Amy, my love, you are by far the best loved of the228

Little Dorrit – Book Onethree; I have had you principally in my mind—whatever I have wondered did he look now at all as he had looked when hedone for your sake, my dear child, I have done freely and was prosperous and happy; as he had so touched her by imaginingthat he might look once more in that awful time. At thewithout murmuring.’Only the wisdom that holds the clue to all hearts and all thought of that time, she kneeled beside his bed again, andmysteries, can surely know to what extent a man, especially a prayed, ‘O spare his life! O save him to me! O look downman brought down as this man had been, can impose upon upon my dear, long-suffering, unfortunate, much-changed, dearhimself. Enough, for the present place, that he lay down with dear father!’wet eyelashes, serene, in a manner majestic, after bestowing Not until the morning came to protect him and encouragehis life of degradation as a sort of portion on the devoted child him, did she give him a last kiss and leave the small room.upon whom its miseries had fallen so heavily, and whose love When she had stolen down-stairs, and along the empty yard,alone had saved him to be even what he was.and had crept up to her own high garret, the smokeless housetopsand the distant country hills were discernible over theThat child had no doubts, asked herself no question, for shewas but too content to see him with a lustre round his head. wall in the clear morning. As she gently opened the window,Poor dear, good dear, truest, kindest, dearest, were the only and looked eastward down the prison yard, the spikes uponwords she had for him, as she hushed him to rest.the wall were tipped with red, then made a sullen purple patternon the sun as it came flaming up into the heavens. TheShe never left him all that night. As if she had done him awrong which her tenderness could hardly repair, she sat by spikes had never looked so sharp and cruel, nor the bars sohim in his sleep, at times softly kissing him with suspended heavy, nor the prison space so gloomy and contracted. Shebreath, and calling him in a whisper by some endearing name. thought of the sunrise on rolling rivers, of the sunrise on wideAt times she stood aside so as not to intercept the low firelight,and, watching him when it fell upon his sleeping face, forests where the birds were waking and the trees wereseas, of the sunrise on rich landscapes, of the sunrise on greatrus-229

Charles Dickenstling; and she looked down into the living grave on which the of his release, that Clennam scarcely needed to have been atsun had risen, with her father in it three-and-twenty years, and the pains of impressing the mind of Mr Plornish on that subject.Whoever had paid him the compliment, he very readilysaid, in a burst of sorrow and compassion, ‘No, no, I havenever seen him in my life!’accepted the compliment with his compliments, and there wasan end of it. Issuing forth from the gate on these easy terms, hebecame a billiard-marker; and now occasionally looked in atCHAPTER 20 Moving in Societythe little skittle-ground in a green Newmarket coat (secondhand),with a shining collar and bright buttons (new), and drankIF YOUNG JOHN CHIVERY had had the inclination and the powerthe beer of the Collegians.to write a satire on family pride, he would have had no need toOne solid stationary point in the looseness of this gentleman’sgo for an avenging illustration out of the family of his beloved.character was, that he respected and admired his sister Amy.He would have found it amply in that gallant brother and thatThe feeling had never induced him to spare her a moment’sdainty sister, so steeped in mean experiences, and so loftilyuneasiness, or to put himself to any restraint or inconvenienceconscious of the family name; so ready to beg or borrow fromon her account; but with that Marshalsea taint upon his love,the poorest, to eat of anybody’s bread, spend anybody’she loved her. The same rank Marshalsea flavour was to bemoney, drink from anybody’s cup and break it afterwards. Torecognised in his distinctly perceiving that she sacrificed herhave painted the sordid facts of their lives, and they throughoutinvoking the death’s head apparition of the family gentilitylife to her father, and in his having no idea that she had doneanything for himself.to come and scare their benefactors, would have made YoungWhen this spirited young man and his sister had begun systematicallyto produce the family skeleton for the overawing ofJohn a satirist of the first water.Tip had turned his liberty to hopeful account by becoming athe College, this narrative cannot precisely state. Probably atbilliard-marker. He had troubled himself so little as to the means230

Little Dorrit – Book Oneabout the period when they began to dine on the College charity. ing settled that in such case she would follow them, she set offIt is certain that the more reduced and necessitous they were, afresh for the theatre, which was on that side of the river, andthe more pompously the skeleton emerged from its tomb; and not very far away.that when there was anything particularly shabby in the wind, Little Dorrit was almost as ignorant of the ways of theatresthe skeleton always came out with the ghastliest flourish. as of the ways of gold mines, and when she was directed to aLittle Dorrit was late on the Monday morning, for her father furtive sort of door, with a curious up-all-night air about it, thatslept late, and afterwards there was his breakfast to prepare appeared to be ashamed of itself and to be hiding in an alley,and his room to arrange. She had no engagement to go out to she hesitated to approach it; being further deterred by the sightwork, however, and therefore stayed with him until, with of some half-dozen close-shaved gentlemen with their hats veryMaggy’s help, she had put everything right about him, and had strangely on, who were lounging about the door, looking notseen him off upon his morning walk (of twenty yards or so) to at all unlike Collegians. On her applying to them, reassured bythe coffee-house to read the paper.this resemblance, for a direction to Miss Dorrit, they madeShe then got on her bonnet and went out, having been anxiousto get out much sooner. There was, as usual, a cessation lamp gone out than anything else—where she could hear theway for her to enter a dark hall—it was more like a great grimof the small-talk in the Lodge as she passed through it; and a distant playing of music and the sound of dancing feet. A manCollegian who had come in on Saturday night, received the so much in want of airing that he had a blue mould upon him,intimation from the elbow of a more seasoned Collegian, ‘Look sat watching this dark place from a hole in a corner, like aout. Here she is!’ She wanted to see her sister, but when she spider; and he told her that he would send a message up togot round to Mr Cripples’s, she found that both her sister and Miss Dorrit by the first lady or gentleman who went through.her uncle had gone to the theatre where they were engaged. The first lady who went through had a roll of music, half in herHaving taken thought of this probability by the way, and hav-muff and half out of it, and was in such a tumbled condition231

Charles Dickensaltogether, that it seemed as if it would be an act of kindness to golden chairs and tables were heaped together, and where airon her. But as she was very good-natured, and said, ‘Come number of young ladies were sitting on anything they couldwith me; I’ll soon find Miss Dorrit for you,’ Miss Dorrit’s sisterwent with her, drawing nearer and nearer at every step she had a curious way of looking everywhere while they chat-find, chattering. All these young ladies wanted ironing, and alltook in the darkness to the sound of music and the sound of tered.dancing feet.just as the sisters arrived here, a monotonous boy in a ScotchAt last they came into a maze of dust, where a quantity of cap put his head round a beam on the left, and said, ‘Lesspeople were tumbling over one another, and where there was noise there, ladies!’ and disappeared. Immediately after which,such a confusion of unaccountable shapes of beams, bulkheads,brick walls, ropes, and rollers, and such a mixing of round a beam on the right, and said, ‘Less noise there, dar-a sprightly gentleman with a quantity of long black hair lookedgaslight and daylight, that they seemed to have got on the wrong lings!’ and also disappeared.side of the pattern of the universe. Little Dorrit, left to herself, ‘The notion of you among professionals, Amy, is really theand knocked against by somebody every moment, was quite last thing I could have conceived!’ said her sister. ‘Why, howbewildered, when she heard her sister’s voice.did you ever get here?’‘Why, good gracious, Amy, what ever brought you here?’ ‘I don’t know. The lady who told you I was here, was so‘I wanted to see you, Fanny dear; and as I am going out all good as to bring me in.’day to-morrow, and knew you might be engaged all day today,I thought—’where, I believe. I couldn’t have managed it, Amy, though I‘Like you quiet little things! You can make your way any-‘But the idea, Amy, of you coming behind! I never did!’ As know so much more of the world.’her sister said this in no very cordial tone of welcome, she It was the family custom to lay it down as family law, that sheconducted her to a more open part of the maze, where various was a plain domestic little creature, without the great and sage232

Little Dorrit – Book Oneexperience of the rest. This family fiction was the family assertionof itself against her services. Not to make too much of lings!’ said the gentleman with the black hair. They were every‘Now, ladies!’ said the boy in the Scotch cap. ‘Now, dar-them.one gone in a moment, and the music and the dancing feet‘Well! And what have you got on your mind, Amy? Of course were heard again.you have got something on your mind about me?’ said Fanny. Little Dorrit sat down in a golden chair, made quite giddy byShe spoke as if her sister, between two and three years her these rapid interruptions. Her sister and the rest were a longjunior, were her prejudiced grandmother.time gone; and during their absence a voice (it appeared to be‘It is not much; but since you told me of the lady who gave that of the gentleman with the black hair) was continually callingout through the music, ‘One, two, three, four, five, six—you the bracelet, Fanny—’The monotonous boy put his head round the beam on the go! One, two, three, four, five, six—go! Steady, darlings! One,left, and said, ‘Look out there, ladies!’ and disappeared. The two, three, four, five, six—go!’ Ultimately the voice stopped,sprightly gentleman with the black hair as suddenly put his head and they all came back again, more or less out of breath, foldingthemselves in their shawls, and making ready for the streets.round the beam on the right, and said, ‘Look out there, darlings!’and also disappeared. Thereupon all the young ladies ‘Stop a moment, Amy, and let them get away before us,’ whisperedFanny. They were soon left alone; nothing more impor-rose and began shaking their skirts out behind.‘Well, Amy?’ said Fanny, doing as the rest did; ‘what were tant happening, in the meantime, than the boy looking roundyou going to say?’his old beam, and saying, ‘Everybody at eleven to-morrow,‘Since you told me a lady had given you the bracelet you ladies!’ and the gentleman with the black hair looking roundshowed me, Fanny, I have not been quite easy on your account,and indeed want to know a little more if you will con-darlings!’ each in his own accustomed manner.his old beam, and saying, ‘Everybody at eleven to-morrow,fide more to me.’When they were alone, something was rolled up or by other233

Charles Dickensmeans got out of the way, and there was a great empty well over the rails, and he had always responded to this attentionbefore them, looking down into the depths of which Fanny with a momentary waking up of manner that had the pale phantomof a gentleman in it: beyond this he never, on any occa-said, ‘Now, uncle!’ Little Dorrit, as her eyes became used tothe darkness, faintly made him out at the bottom of the well, in sion, had any other part in what was going on than the partan obscure corner by himself, with his instrument in its ragged written out for the clarionet; in private life, where there was nocase under his arm.part for the clarionet, he had no part at all. Some said he wasThe old man looked as if the remote high gallery windows, poor, some said he was a wealthy miser; but he said nothing,with their little strip of sky, might have been the point of his never lifted up his bowed head, never varied his shuffling gaitbetter fortunes, from which he had descended, until he had by getting his springless foot from the ground. Though expectingnow to be summoned by his niece, he did not hear her untilgradually sunk down below there to the bottom. He had beenin that place six nights a week for many years, but had never she had spoken to him three or four times; nor was he at allbeen observed to raise his eyes above his music-book, and surprised by the presence of two nieces instead of one, butwas confidently believed to have never seen a play. There were merely said in his tremulous voice, ‘I am coming, I am coming!’and crept forth by some underground way which emittedlegends in the place that he did not so much as know the popularheroes and heroines by sight, and that the low comedian had a cellarous smell.‘mugged’ at him in his richest manner fifty nights for a wager, ‘And so, Amy,’ said her sister, when the three together passedand he had shown no trace of consciousness. The carpenters out at the door that had such a shame-faced consciousness ofhad a joke to the effect that he was dead without being aware being different from other doors: the uncle instinctively takingof it; and the frequenters of the pit supposed him to pass his Amy’s arm as the arm to be relied on: ‘so, Amy, you are curiousabout me?’whole life, night and day, and Sunday and all, in the orchestra.They had tried him a few times with pinches of snuff offered She was pretty, and conscious, and rather flaunting; and the234

Little Dorrit – Book Onecondescension with which she put aside the superiority of her were to be caught of a roast leg of pork bursting into tears ofcharms, and of her worldly experience, and addressed her sage and onion in a metal reservoir full of gravy, of an unctuoussister on almost equal terms, had a vast deal of the family in it. piece of roast beef and blisterous Yorkshire pudding, bubblinghot in a similar receptacle, of a stuffed fillet of veal in‘I am interested, Fanny, and concerned in anything that concernsyou.’rapid cut, of a ham in a perspiration with the pace it was going‘So you are, so you are, and you are the best of Amys. If I at, of a shallow tank of baked potatoes glued together by theiram ever a little provoking, I am sure you’ll consider what a own richness, of a truss or two of boiled greens, and otherthing it is to occupy my position and feel a consciousness of substantial delicacies. Within, were a few wooden partitions,being superior to it. I shouldn’t care,’ said the Daughter of the behind which such customers as found it more convenient toFather of the Marshalsea, ‘if the others were not so common. take away their dinners in stomachs than in their hands, PackedNone of them have come down in the world as we have. They their purchases in solitude. Fanny opening her reticule, as theyare all on their own level. Common.’surveyed these things, produced from that repository a shillingLittle Dorrit mildly looked at the speaker, but did not interrupther. Fanny took out her handkerchief, and rather angrily while, divined its object, and muttering ‘Dinner? Ha! Yes, yes,and handed it to Uncle. Uncle, after not looking at it a littlewiped her eyes. ‘I was not born where you were, you know, yes!’ slowly vanished from them into the mist.Amy, and perhaps that makes a difference. My dear child, ‘Now, Amy,’ said her sister, ‘come with me, if you are notwhen we get rid of Uncle, you shall know all about it. We’ll too tired to walk to Harley Street, Cavendish Square.’drop him at the cook’s shop where he is going to dine.’ The air with which she threw off this distinguished addressThey walked on with him until they came to a dirty shop and the toss she gave to her new bonnet (which was morewindow in a dirty street, which was made almost opaque by gauzy than serviceable), made her sister wonder; however,the steam of hot meats, vegetables, and puddings. But glimpses she expressed her readiness to go to Harley Street, and thither235

Charles Dickensthey directed their steps. Arrived at that grand destination, The lady was not young and fresh from the hand of Nature,Fanny singled out the handsomest house, and knocking at the but was young and fresh from the hand of her maid. She haddoor, inquired for Mrs Merdle. The footman who opened the large unfeeling handsome eyes, and dark unfeeling handsomedoor, although he had powder on his head and was backed hair, and a broad unfeeling handsome bosom, and was madeup by two other footmen likewise powdered, not only admittedMrs Merdle to be at home, but asked Fanny to walk in. or because it suited her face, she wore a rich white fillet tiedthe most of in every particular. Either because she had a cold,Fanny walked in, taking her sister with her; and they went upstairswith powder going before and powder stopping behind, unfeeling handsome chin that looked as if, for certain, it hadover her head and under her chin. And if ever there were anand were left in a spacious semicircular drawing-room, one of never been, in familiar parlance, ‘chucked’ by the hand of man,several drawing-rooms, where there was a parrot on the outsideof a golden cage holding on by its beak, with its scaly legs ‘Mrs Merdle,’ said Fanny. ‘My sister, ma’am.’it was the chin curbed up so tight and close by that laced bridle.in the air, and putting itself into many strange upside-down ‘I am glad to see your sister, Miss Dorrit. I did not rememberthat you had a sister.’postures. This peculiarity has been observed in birds of quiteanother feather, climbing upon golden wires.‘I did not mention that I had,’ said Fanny.The room was far more splendid than anything Little Dorrit had ‘Ah!’ Mrs Merdle curled the little finger of her left hand asever imagined, and would have been splendid and costly in any who should say, ‘I have caught you. I know you didn’t!’ Alleyes. She looked in amazement at her sister and would have asked her action was usually with her left hand because her handsa question, but that Fanny with a warning frown pointed to a were not a pair; and left being much the whiter and plumper ofcurtained doorway of communication with another room. The the two. Then she added: ‘Sit down,’ and composed herselfcurtain shook next moment, and a lady, raising it with a heavily voluptuously, in a nest of crimson and gold cushions, on anringed hand, dropped it behind her again as she entered. ottoman near the parrot.236

Little Dorrit – Book One‘Also professional?’ said Mrs Merdle, looking at Little Dorrit were Society and it asserted its right to its exactions.through an eye-glass.‘But,’ resumed Mrs Merdle, ‘we must take it as we find it.Fanny answered No. ‘No,’ said Mrs Merdle, dropping her We know it is hollow and conventional and worldly and veryglass. ‘Has not a professional air. Very pleasant; but not professional.’should have been charmed to be one myself—most delightfulshocking, but unless we are Savages in the Tropical seas (I‘My sister, ma’am,’ said Fanny, in whom there was a singularmixture of deference and hardihood, ‘has been asking me common lot. Mr Merdle is a most extensive merchant, his trans-life and perfect climate, I am told), we must consult it. It is theto tell her, as between sisters, how I came to have the honour actions are on the vastest scale, his wealth and influence areof knowing you. And as I had engaged to call upon you once very great, but even he— Bird, be quiet!’more, I thought I might take the liberty of bringing her with me, The parrot had shrieked another shriek; and it filled up thewhen perhaps you would tell her. I wish her to know, and sentence so expressively that Mrs Merdle was under no necessityto end it.perhaps you will tell her?’ ‘Do you think, at your sister’s age—’hinted Mrs Merdle.‘Since your sister begs that I would terminate our personal‘She is much older than she looks,’ said Fanny; ‘almost as acquaintance,’ she began again, addressing Little Dorrit, ‘byold as I am.’relating the circumstances that are much to her credit, I cannot‘Society,’ said Mrs Merdle, with another curve of her little object to comply with her request, I am sure. I have a son (Ifinger, ‘is so difficult to explain to young persons (indeed is so was first married extremely young) of two or three-and-twenty.’difficult to explain to most persons), that I am glad to hear that. Fanny set her lips, and her eyes looked half triumphantly atI wish Society was not so arbitrary, I wish it was not so her sister.exacting — Bird, be quiet!’‘A son of two or three-and-twenty. He is a little gay, a thingThe parrot had given a most piercing shriek, as if its name Society is accustomed to in young men, and he is very im-237

Charles Dickenspressible. Perhaps he inherits that misfortune. I am very impressiblemyself, by nature. The weakest of creatures—my people on it of the female sex. Therefore, when I heard thatmen of that class of character. In saying the stage, I mean thefeelings are touched in a moment.’my son was supposed to be fascinated by a dancer, I knewShe said all this, and everything else, as coldly as a woman what that usually meant in Society, and confided in her being aof snow; quite forgetting the sisters except at odd times, and dancer at the Opera, where young men moving in Society areapparently addressing some abstraction of Society; for whose usually fascinated.’behoof, too, she occasionally arranged her dress, or the compositionof her figure upon the ottoman.the sisters now; and the rings upon her fingers grated againstShe passed her white hands over one another, observant of‘So he is very impressible. Not a misfortune in our natural each other with a hard sound.state I dare say, but we are not in a natural state. Much to be ‘As your sister will tell you, when I found what the theatrelamented, no doubt, particularly by myself, who am a child of was I was much surprised and much distressed. But when Inature if I could but show it; but so it is. Society suppresses us found that your sister, by rejecting my son’s advances (I mustand dominates us— Bird, be quiet!’ The parrot had broken add, in an unexpected manner), had brought him to the pointinto a violent fit of laughter, after twisting divers bars of his of proposing marriage, my feelings were of the profoundestcage with his crooked bill, and licking them with his black anguish—acute.’ She traced the outline of her left eyebrow,tongue.and put it right.‘It is quite unnecessary to say to a person of your good ‘In a distracted condition, which only a mother—moving insense, wide range of experience, and cultivated feeling,’ said Society—can be susceptible of, I determined to go myself toMrs Merdle from her nest of crimson and gold—and there put the theatre, and represent my state of mind to the dancer. Iup her glass to refresh her memory as to whom she was addressing,—’thatthe stage sometimes has a fascination for young in many respects different from my expectations; andmade myself known to your sister. I found her, to my surprise,certainly238

Little Dorrit – Book Onein none more so, than in meeting me with—what shall I say— ‘I think, the very words, Miss Dorrit,’ assented Mrs Merdle.a sort of family assertion on her own part?’ Mrs Merdle smiled. ‘And I told you, Mrs Merdle,’ said Fanny, ‘that if you spoke‘I told you, ma’am,’ said Fanny, with a heightening colour, to me of the superiority of your son’s standing in Society, it‘that although you found me in that situation, I was so far above was barely possible that you rather deceived yourself in yourthe rest, that I considered my family as good as your son’s; suppositions about my origin; and that my father’s standing,and that I had a brother who, knowing the circumstances, would even in the Society in which he now moved (what that was,be of the same opinion, and would not consider such a connectionany honour.’acknowledged by every one.’was best known to myself), was eminently superior, and was‘Miss Dorrit,’ said Mrs Merdle, after frostily looking at her ‘Quite accurate,’ rejoined Mrs Merdle. ‘A most admirablethrough her glass, ‘precisely what I was on the point of telling memory.’your sister, in pursuance of your request. Much obliged to you ‘Thank you, ma’am. Perhaps you will be so kind as to tellfor recalling it so accurately and anticipating me. I immediately,’addressing Little Dorrit, ‘(for I am the creature of im-‘There is very little to tell,’ said Mrs Merdle, reviewing themy sister the rest.’pulse), took a bracelet from my arm, and begged your sister breadth of bosom which seemed essential to her having roomto let me clasp it on hers, in token of the delight I had in our enough to be unfeeling in, ‘but it is to your sister’s credit. Ibeing able to approach the subject so far on a common footing.’(This was perfectly true, the lady having bought a cheap possibility of the Society in which we moved recognising thepointed out to your sister the plain state of the case; the im-and showy article on her way to the interview, with a general Society in which she moved—though charming, I have noeye to bribery.)doubt; the immense disadvantage at which she would consequentlyplace the family she had so high an opinion of, upon‘And I told you, Mrs Merdle,’ said Fanny, ‘that we might beunfortunate, but we are not common.’which we should find ourselves compelled to look down with239

Charles Dickenscontempt, and from which (socially speaking) we should feel standing that there was no danger; and your sister was so obligingas to allow me to present her with a mark or two of myobliged to recoil with abhorrence. In short, I made an appealto that laudable pride in your sister.’appreciation at my dressmaker’s.’‘Let my sister know, if you please, Mrs Merdle,’ Fanny Little Dorrit looked sorry, and glanced at Fanny with apouted, with a toss of her gauzy bonnet, ‘that I had already troubled face.had the honour of telling your son that I wished to have nothing ‘Also,’ said Mrs Merdle, ‘as to promise to give me thewhatever to say to him.’present pleasure of a closing interview, and of parting with her‘Well, Miss Dorrit,’ assented Mrs Merdle, ‘perhaps I might on the best of terms. On which occasion,’ added Mrs Merdle,have mentioned that before. If I did not think of it, perhaps it quitting her nest, and putting something in Fanny’s hand, ‘Misswas because my mind reverted to the apprehensions I had at Dorrit will permit me to say Farewell with best wishes in mythe time that he might persevere and you might have something own dull manner.’to say to him.The sisters rose at the same time, and they all stood near theI also mentioned to your sister—I again address the nonprofessionalMiss Dorrit—that my son would have nothing in it out, seemed to mock them with a pompous dance of hiscage of the parrot, as he tore at a claw-full of biscuit and spatthe event of such a marriage, and would be an absolute beggar.(I mention that merely as a fact which is part of the narra-upside down and trailed himself all over the outside of his goldenbody without moving his feet, and suddenly turned himselftive, and not as supposing it to have influenced your sister, cage, with the aid of his cruel beak and black tongue.except in the prudent and legitimate way in which, constituted ‘Adieu, Miss Dorrit, with best wishes,’ said Mrs Merdle. ‘Ifas our artificial system is, we must all be influenced by such we could only come to a Millennium, or something of that sort,considerations.) Finally, after some high words and high spirit I for one might have the pleasure of knowing a number ofon the part of your sister, we came to the complete under-charming and talented persons from whom I am at present240

Little Dorrit – Book Oneexcluded. A more primitive state of society would be delicious becoming pride. just as you allow yourself to be followed aboutto me. There used to be a poem when I learnt lessons, somethingabout Lo the poor Indians whose something mind! If a emphasis, ‘you would let your family be trodden on, and neverby a contemptible little Chivery of a thing,’ with the scornfullestfew thousand persons moving in Society, could only go and be turn.’Indians, I would put my name down directly; but as, moving in ‘Don’t say that, dear Fanny. I do what I can for them.’Society, we can’t be Indians, unfortunately—Good morning!’ ‘You do what you can for them!’ repeated Fanny, walkingThey came down-stairs with powder before them and powderbehind, the elder sister haughty and the younger sister could see, if you had any experience of anything, to be as falseher on very fast. ‘Would you let a woman like this, whom youhumbled, and were shut out into unpowdered Harley Street, and insolent as a woman can be—would you let her put herCavendish Square.foot upon your family, and thank her for it?’‘Well?’ said Fanny, when they had gone a little way without ‘No, Fanny, I am sure.’ ‘Then make her pay for it, you meanspeaking. ‘Have you nothing to say, Amy?’little thing. What else can you make her do? Make her pay for‘Oh, I don’t know what to say!’ she answered, distressed. it, you stupid child; and do your family some credit with the‘You didn’t like this young man, Fanny?’money!’‘Like him? He is almost an idiot.’They spoke no more all the way back to the lodging where‘I am so sorry—don’t be hurt—but, since you ask me what Fanny and her uncle lived. When they arrived there, they foundI have to say, I am so very sorry, Fanny, that you suffered this the old man practising his clarionet in the dolefullest manner inlady to give you anything.’a corner of the room. Fanny had a composite meal to make,‘You little Fool!’ returned her sister, shaking her with the of chops, and porter, and tea; and indignantly pretended tosharp pull she gave her arm. ‘Have you no spirit at all? But prepare it for herself, though her sister did all that in quiet reality.When at last Fanny sat down to eat and drink, she that’s just the way! You have no self-respect, you have nothrew241

Charles Dickensthe table implements about and was angry with her bread, such people insult him with impunity. If you don’t feel for yourselfbecause you go out to work, you might at least feel formuch as her father had been last night.‘If you despise me,’ she said, bursting into vehement tears, him, I should think, knowing what he has undergone so long.’‘because I am a dancer, why did you put me in the way of Poor Little Dorrit felt the injustice of this taunt rather sharply.being one?The remembrance of last night added a barbed point to it.It was your doing. You would have me stoop as low as the She said nothing in reply, but turned her chair from the tableground before this Mrs Merdle, and let her say what she liked towards the fire. Uncle, after making one more pause, blew aand do what she liked, and hold us all in contempt, and tell me dismal wail and went on again.so to my face. Because I am a dancer!’Fanny was passionate with the tea-cups and the bread as‘O Fanny!’long as her passion lasted, and then protested that she was the‘And Tip, too, poor fellow. She is to disparage him just as wretchedest girl in the world, and she wished she was dead.much as she likes, without any check—I suppose because he After that, her crying became remorseful, and she got up andhas been in the law, and the docks, and different things. Why, put her arms round her sister. Little Dorrit tried to stop herit was your doing, Amy. You might at least approve of his from saying anything, but she answered that she would, shebeing defended.’must! Thereupon she said again, and again, ‘I beg your pardon,Amy,’ and ‘Forgive me, Amy,’ almost as passionately asAll this time the uncle was dolefully blowing his clarionet inthe corner, sometimes taking it an inch or so from his mouth she had said what she regretted.for a moment while he stopped to gaze at them, with a vague ‘But indeed, indeed, Amy,’ she resumed when they wereimpression that somebody had said something.seated in sisterly accord side by side, ‘I hope and I think you‘And your father, your poor father, Amy. Because he is not would have seen this differently, if you had known a little morefree to show himself and to speak for himself, you would let of Society.’242

Little Dorrit – Book One‘Perhaps I might, Fanny,’ said the mild Little Dorrit. by shutting up his scrap of music, and taking the clarionet out‘You see, while you have been domestic and resignedly shut of his mouth.up there, Amy,’ pursued her sister, gradually beginning to Little Dorrit parted from them at the door, and hastenedpatronise, ‘I have been out, moving more in Society, and may back to the Marshalsea. It fell dark there sooner than elsewhere,and going into it that evening was like going into a deephave been getting proud and spirited—more than I ought tobe, perhaps?’trench. The shadow of the wall was on every object. Not leastLittle Dorrit answered ‘Yes. O yes!’upon the figure in the old grey gown and the black velvet cap,‘And while you have been thinking of the dinner or the clothes, as it turned towards her when she opened the door of the dimI may have been thinking, you know, of the family. Now, may room.it not be so, Amy?’‘Why not upon me too!’ thought Little Dorrit, with the doorLittle Dorrit again nodded ‘Yes,’ with a more cheerful face Yet in her hand. ‘It was not unreasonable in Fanny.’than heart.‘Especially as we know,’ said Fanny, ‘that there certainly isCHAPTER 21 Mr Merdle’s Complainta tone in the place to which you have been so true, which doesbelong to it, and which does make it different from other aspectsof Society. So kiss me once again, Amy dear, and weUPON THAT ESTABLISHMENT of state, the Merdle establishmentin Harley Street, Cavendish Square, there was the shadow ofwill agree that we may both be right, and that you are a tranquil,domestic, home-loving, good girl.’no more common wall than the fronts of other establishmentsof state on the opposite side of the street. Like unexceptionableSociety, the opposing rows of houses in Harley StreetThe clarionet had been lamenting most pathetically duringthis dialogue, but was cut short now by Fanny’s announcementthat it was time to go; which she conveyed to her unclewere very grim with one another. Indeed, the mansions andtheir inhabitants were so much alike in that respect, that the243

Charles Dickenspeople were often to be found drawn up on opposite sides of Harley Street, Cavendish Square, was more than aware ofdinner-tables, in the shade of their own loftiness, staring at the Mr and Mrs Merdle. Intruders there were in Harley Street, ofother side of the way with the dullness of the houses. whom it was not aware; but Mr and Mrs Merdle it delightedEverybody knows how like the street the two dinner-rows to honour. Society was aware of Mr and Mrs Merdle. Societyhad said ‘Let us license them; let us know them.’of people who take their stand by the street will be. The expressionlessuniform twenty houses, all to be knocked at and Mr Merdle was immensely rich; a man of prodigious enterprise;a Midas without the ears, who turned all he touched torung at in the same form, all approachable by the same dullsteps, all fended off by the same pattern of railing, all with the gold. He was in everything good, from banking to building. Hesame impracticable fire-escapes, the same inconvenient fixturesin their heads, and everything without exception to be He was Chairman of this, Trustee of that, President of thewas in Parliament, of course. He was in the City, necessarily.taken at a high valuation—who has not dined with these? The other. The weightiest of men had said to projectors, ‘Now,house so drearily out of repair, the occasional bow-window, what name have you got? Have you got Merdle?’ And, thethe stuccoed house, the newly-fronted house, the corner house reply being in the negative, had said, ‘Then I won’t look atwith nothing but angular rooms, the house with the blinds alwaysdown, the house with the hatchment always up, the house This great and fortunate man had provided that extensiveyou.’where the collector has called for one quarter of an Idea, and bosom which required so much room to be unfeeling enoughfound nobody at home—who has not dined with these? The in, with a nest of crimson and gold some fifteen years before.house that nobody will take, and is to be had a bargain—who It was not a bosom to repose upon, but it was a capital bosomdoes not know her? The showy house that was taken for life to hang jewels upon. Mr Merdle wanted something to hangby the disappointed gentleman, and which does not suit him at jewels upon, and he bought it for the purpose. Storr andall—who is unacquainted with that haunted habitation? Mortimer might have married on the same speculation.244

Little Dorrit – Book OneLike all his other speculations, it was sound and successful. Merdle’s receptions and concerts), he hardly seemed to enjoyhimself much, and was mostly to be found against wallsThe jewels showed to the richest advantage. The bosom movingin Society with the jewels displayed upon it, attracted general and behind doors. Also when he went out to it, instead of itsadmiration. Society approving, Mr Merdle was satisfied. He coming home to him, he seemed a little fatigued, and upon thewas the most disinterested of men,—did everything for Society,and got as little for himself out of all his gain and care, as a vating it nevertheless, and always moving in it—and alwayswhole rather more disposed for bed; but he was always culti-man might.laying out money on it with the greatest liberality.That is to say, it may be supposed that he got all he wanted, Mrs Merdle’s first husband had been a colonel, under whoseotherwise with unlimited wealth he would have got it. But his auspices the bosom had entered into competition with thedesire was to the utmost to satisfy Society (whatever that was), snows of North America, and had come off at little disadvantagein point of whiteness, and at none in point of coldness.and take up all its drafts upon him for tribute. He did not shinein company; he had not very much to say for himself; he was a The colonel’s son was Mrs Merdle’s only child. He was of areserved man, with a broad, overhanging, watchful head, that chuckle-headed, high-shouldered make, with a general appearanceof being, not so much a young man as a swelled boy.particular kind of dull red colour in his cheeks which is ratherstale than fresh, and a somewhat uneasy expression about his He had given so few signs of reason, that a by-word wentcoat-cuffs, as if they were in his confidence, and had reasons among his companions that his brain had been frozen up in afor being anxious to hide his hands. In the little he said, he was mighty frost which prevailed at St john’s, New Brunswick, ata pleasant man enough; plain, emphatic about public and privateconfidence, and tenacious of the utmost deference being hour. Another by-word represented him as having in his in-the period of his birth there, and had never thawed from thatshown by every one, in all things, to Society. In this same Society(if that were it which came to his dinners, and to Mrs window on his head, which had been heard byfancy, through the negligence of a nurse, fallen out of a highresponsible245

Charles Dickenswitnesses to crack. It is probable that both these representationswere of ex post facto origin; the young gentleman (whose Treasury magnates, Horse Guard magnates, Admiralty mag-from the bench and magnates from the bar, Bishop magnates,expressive name was Sparkler) being monomaniacal in offeringmarriage to all manner of undesirable young ladies, and in trip us up.nates,—all the magnates that keep us going, and sometimesremarking of every successive young lady to whom he tendereda matrimonial proposal that she was ‘a doosed fine gal— Merdle has made another enormous hit. They say a hundred‘I am told,’ said Bishop magnate to Horse Guards, ‘that Mrwell educated too—with no biggodd nonsense about her.’ thousand pounds.’A son-in-law with these limited talents, might have been a Horse Guards had heard two.clog upon another man; but Mr Merdle did not want a son-inlawfor himself; he wanted a son-in-law for Society. Mr Spar-Bar, handling his persuasive double eye-glass, was by noTreasury had heard three.kler having been in the Guards, and being in the habit of frequentingall the races, and all the lounges, and all the parties, strokes of calculation and combination, the result of which itmeans clear but that it might be four. It was one of those happyand being well known, Society was satisfied with its son-inlaw.This happy result Mr Merdle would have considered well comprehensive grasp, associated with habitual luck and char-was difficult to estimate. It was one of those instances of aattained, though Mr Sparkler had been a more expensive article.And he did not get Mr Sparkler by any means cheap for here was Brother Bellows, who had been in the great Bankacteristic boldness, of which an age presented us but few. ButSociety, even as it was. There was a dinner giving in the Harley case, and who could probably tell us more. What did BrotherStreet establishment, while Little Dorrit was stitching at her Bellows put this new success at?father’s new shirts by his side that night; and there were magnatesfrom the Court and magnates from the City, magnates bosom, and could only tell them in passing that he had heard itBrother Bellows was on his way to make his bow to thefrom the Commons and magnates from the Lords, magnates stated, with great appearance of truth, as being worth, from246

Little Dorrit – Book Onefirst to last, half-a-million of money.a richly brocaded Jack in the Green, and nobody knew whatAdmiralty said Mr Merdle was a wonderful man, Treasury sort of small person carried it.said he was a new power in the country, and would be able to Society had everything it could want, and could not want,buy up the whole House of Commons. Bishop said he was for dinner. It had everything to look at, and everything to eat,glad to think that this wealth flowed into the coffers of a gentlemanwho was always disposed to maintain the best interests Mr Merdle’s own share of the repast might have been paid forand everything to drink. It is to be hoped it enjoyed itself; forof Society.with eighteenpence. Mrs Merdle was magnificent. The chiefMr Merdle himself was usually late on these occasions, as a butler was the next magnificent institution of the day. He wasman still detained in the clutch of giant enterprises when other the stateliest man in the company. He did nothing, but he lookedmen had shaken off their dwarfs for the day. On this occasion, on as few other men could have done. He was Mr Merdle’she was the last arrival. Treasury said Merdle’s work punished last gift to Society. Mr Merdle didn’t want him, and was puthim a little. Bishop said he was glad to think that this wealth out of countenance when the great creature looked at him; butflowed into the coffers of a gentleman who accepted it with inappeasable Society would have him—and had got him.meekness.The invisible countess carried out the Green at the usual stagePowder! There was so much Powder in waiting, that it of the entertainment, and the file of beauty was closed up byflavoured the dinner. Pulverous particles got into the dishes, the bosom. Treasury said, Juno. Bishop said, Judith.and Society’s meats had a seasoning of first-rate footmen. Mr Bar fell into discussion with Horse Guards concerning courtsmartial.Brothers Bellows and Bench struck in. Other mag-Merdle took down a countess who was secluded somewherein the core of an immense dress, to which she was in the proportionof the heart to the overgrown cabbage. If so low a cloth. Sometimes a magnate addressed him, to turn the streamnates paired off. Mr Merdle sat silent, and looked at the table-simile may be admitted, the dress went down the staircase like of his own particular discussion towards him; but Mr Merdle247

Charles Dickensseldom gave much attention to it, or did more than rouse himselffrom his calculations and pass the wine.abled, by accidentally possessing the control over circum-be expected to regard it. If we should ever be happily en-When they rose, so many of the magnates had something to stances, to propose to one so eminent to—to come among us,say to Mr Merdle individually that he held little levees by the and give us the weight of his influence, knowledge, and character,we could only propose it to him as a duty. In fact, as asideboard, and checked them off as they went out at the door.Treasury hoped he might venture to congratulate one of duty that he owed to Society.’England’s world-famed capitalists and merchant-princes (he Mr Merdle intimated that Society was the apple of his eye,had turned that original sentiment in the house a few times, and and that its claims were paramount to every other consideration.Treasury moved on, and Bar came up. Bar, with his littleit came easy to him) on a new achievement. To extend thetriumphs of such men was to extend the triumphs and resources insinuating jury droop, and fingering his persuasive double eyeglass,hoped he might be excused if he mentioned to one of theof the nation; and Treasury felt—he gave Mr Merdle to understand—patrioticon the subject.greatest converters of the root of all evil into the root of all‘Thank you, my lord,’ said Mr Merdle; ‘thank you. I accept good, who had for a long time reflected a shining lustre on theyour congratulations with pride, and I am glad you approve.’ annals even of our commercial country—if he mentioned, disinterestedly,and as, what we lawyers called in our pedantic‘Why, I don’t unreservedly approve, my dear Mr Merdle.Because,’ smiling Treasury turned him by the arm towards the way, amicus curiae, a fact that had come by accident within hissideboard and spoke banteringly, ‘it never can be worth your knowledge. He had been required to look over the title of awhile to come among us and help us.’very considerable estate in one of the eastern counties—lying,Mr Merdle felt honoured by the—in fact, for Mr Merdle knew we lawyers loved to be particular,on the borders of two of the eastern counties. Now, the‘No, no,’ said Treasury, ‘that is not the light in which one sodistinguished for practical knowledge and great foresight, can title was perfectly sound, and the estate was to be purchased248

Little Dorrit – Book Oneby one who had the command of—Money (jury droop and undesignedly sidling in the direction of the sideboard.persuasive eye-glass), on remarkably advantageous terms. This Surely the goods of this world, it occurred in an accidentalhad come to Bar’s knowledge only that day, and it had occurredto him, ‘I shall have the honour of dining with my espierchannels than when they accumulated under the magicway to Bishop to remark, could scarcely be directed into hapteemedfriend Mr Merdle this evening, and, strictly between touch of the wise and sagacious, who, while they knew theourselves, I will mention the opportunity.’ Such a purchase just value of riches (Bishop tried here to look as if he werewould involve not only a great legitimate political influence, but rather poor himself), were aware of their importance, judiciouslygoverned and rightly distributed, to the welfare of oursome half-dozen church presentations of considerable annualvalue. Now, that Mr Merdle was already at no loss to discovermeans of occupying even his capital, and of fully em-Mr Merdle with humility expressed his conviction that Bishopbrethren at large.ploying even his active and vigorous intellect, Bar well knew: couldn’t mean him, and with inconsistency expressed his highbut he would venture to suggest that the question arose in his gratification in Bishop’s good opinion.mind, whether one who had deservedly gained so high a positionand so European a reputation did not owe it—we would right leg, as though he said to Mr Merdle ‘don’t mind the apron;Bishop then—jauntily stepping out a little with his well-shapednot say to himself, but we would say to Society, to possess a mere form!’ put this case to his good friend:himself of such influences as these; and to exercise them—we Whether it had occurred to his good friend, that Societywould not say for his own, or for his party’s, but we would say might not unreasonably hope that one so blest in his undertakings,and whose example on his pedestal was so influentialfor Society’s—benefit.Mr Merdle again expressed himself as wholly devoted to with it, would shed a little money in the direction of a missionthat object of his constant consideration, and Bar took his or so to Africa?persuasive eye-glass up the grand staircase. Bishop then came Mr Merdle signifying that the idea should have his best at-249

Charles Dickenstention, Bishop put another case:nates gradually floated up after him until there was no one leftWhether his good friend had at all interested himself in the below but Mr Merdle. That gentleman, after looking at theproceedings of our Combined Additional Endowed DignitariesCommittee, and whether it had occurred to him that to resentment, went slowly up after the rest, and became of notable-cloth until the soul of the chief butler glowed with a nobleshed a little money in that direction might be a great conceptionfinely executed?Merdle was at home, the best of the jewels were hung out toaccount in the stream of people on the grand staircase. MrsMr Merdle made a similar reply, and Bishop explained his be seen, Society got what it came for, Mr Merdle drankreason for inquiring.twopennyworth of tea in a corner and got more than he wanted.Society looked to such men as his good friend to do such Among the evening magnates was a famous physician, whothings. It was not that HE looked to them, but that Society knew everybody, and whom everybody knew. On entering atlooked to them.the door, he came upon Mr Merdle drinking his tea in a corner,and touched him on the arm.just as it was not Our Committee who wanted the AdditionalEndowed Dignitaries, but it was Society that was in a Mr Merdle started. ‘Oh! It’s you!’state of the most agonising uneasiness of mind until it got them. ‘Any better to-day?’He begged to assure his good friend that he was extremely ‘No,’ said Mr Merdle, ‘I am no better.’sensible of his good friend’s regard on all occasions for the ‘A pity I didn’t see you this morning. Pray come to me tomorrow,or let me come to you. ‘best interests of Society; and he considered that he was atonce consulting those interests and expressing the feeling of ‘Well!’ he replied. ‘I will come to-morrow as I drive by.’Society, when he wished him continued prosperity, continued Bar and Bishop had both been bystanders during this shortincrease of riches, and continued things in general.dialogue, and as Mr Merdle was swept away by the crowd,Bishop then betook himself up-stairs, and the other mag-they made their remarks upon it to the Physician. Bar said,250

Little Dorrit – Book Onethere was a certain point of mental strain beyond which no ‘Yes,’ said the physician, ‘yes, you are both right. But I mayman could go; that the point varied with various textures of as well tell you that I can find nothing the matter with Mr Merdle.brain and peculiarities of constitution, as he had had occasion He has the constitution of a rhinoceros, the digestion of anto notice in several of his learned brothers; but the point of ostrich, and the concentration of an oyster. As to nerves, Mrendurance passed by a line’s breadth, depression and dyspepsiaensued. Not to intrude on the sacred mysteries of medi-about as invulnerable, I should say, as Achilles. How such aMerdle is of a cool temperament, and not a sensitive man: iscine, he took it, now (with the jury droop and persuasive eyeglass),that this was Merdle’s case? Bishop said that when he think strange. But I have found nothing the matter with him. Heman should suppose himself unwell without reason, you maywas a young man, and had fallen for a brief space into the may have some deep-seated recondite complaint. I can’t say.habit of writing sermons on Saturdays, a habit which all young I only say, that at present I have not found it out.’sons of the church should sedulously avoid, he had frequently There was no shadow of Mr Merdle’s complaint on the bosomnow displaying precious stones in rivalry with many simi-been sensible of a depression, arising as he supposed from anover-taxed intellect, upon which the yolk of a new-laid egg, lar superb jewel-stands; there was no shadow of Mr Merdle’sbeaten up by the good woman in whose house he at that time complaint on young Sparkler hovering about the rooms,lodged, with a glass of sound sherry, nutmeg, and powdered monomaniacally seeking any sufficiently ineligible young ladysugar acted like a charm. Without presuming to offer so simple with no nonsense about her; there was no shadow of Mra remedy to the consideration of so profound a professor of Merdle’s complaint on the Barnacles and Stiltstalkings, ofthe great healing art, he would venture to inquire whether the whom whole colonies were present; or on any of the company.Even on himself, its shadow was faint enough as he movedstrain, being by way of intricate calculations, the spirits mightnot (humanly speaking) be restored to their tone by a gentle about among the throng, receiving homage.and yet generous stimulant?Mr Merdle’s complaint. Society and he had so much to do251

Charles Dickenswith one another in all things else, that it is hard to imagine his instincts. He was happy, he observed, in his public capacity ascomplaint, if he had one, being solely his own affair. Had he leader and representative of the College, to receive Mrthat deep-seated recondite complaint, and did any doctor find Clennam when he called to pay his respects; but he didn’t findit out? Patience. in the meantime, the shadow of the Marshalsea that he got on with him personally. There appeared to be something(he didn’t know what it was) wanting in him. Howbeit,wall was a real darkening influence, and could be seen on theDorrit Family at any stage of the sun’s course.the father did not fail in any outward show of politeness, but,on the contrary, honoured him with much attention; perhapscherishing the hope that, although not a man of a sufficientlyCHAPTER 22 A Puzzlebrilliant and spontaneous turn of mind to repeat his formertestimonial unsolicited, it might still be within the compass ofMR CLENNAM DID not increase in favour with the Father of thehis nature to bear the part of a responsive gentleman, in anyMarshalsea in the ratio of his increasing visits. His obtusenesscorrespondence that way tending.on the great Testimonial question was not calculated to awakenIn the threefold capacity, of the gentleman from outside whoadmiration in the paternal breast, but had rather a tendency tohad been accidentally locked in on the night of his first appearance,of the gentleman from outside who had inquired into thegive offence in that sensitive quarter, and to be regarded as apositive shortcoming in point of gentlemanly feeling. An impressionof disappointment, occasioned by the discovery thataffairs of the Father of the Marshalsea with the stupendousidea of getting him out, and of the gentleman from outside whoMr Clennam scarcely possessed that delicacy for which, intook an interest in the child of the Marshalsea, Clennam soonthe confidence of his nature, he had been inclined to give himbecame a visitor of mark.credit, began to darken the fatherly mind in connection withHe was not surprised by the attentions he received from Mrthat gentleman. The father went so far as to say, in his privateChivery when that officer was on the lock, for he made littlefamily circle, that he feared Mr Clennam was not a man of high252

Little Dorrit – Book Onedistinction between Mr Chivery’s politeness and that of the truth is, it’s my wife. She’s wishful to say a word to you, sir,other turnkeys. It was on one particular afternoon that Mr upon a point respecting—yes,’ said Mr Chivery, answeringChivery surprised him all at once, and stood forth from his Clennam’s look of apprehension with a nod, ‘respecting her.’companions in bold relief.‘I will make a point of seeing your wife directly.’Mr Chivery, by some artful exercise of his power of clearing ‘Thank you, sir. Much obliged. It an’t above ten minutes outthe Lodge, had contrived to rid it of all sauntering Collegians; of your way. Please to ask for Mrs Chivery!’ These instructions,Mr Chivery, who had already let him out, cautiously calledso that Clennam, coming out of the prison, should find him onduty alone.through a little slide in the outer door, which he could draw‘(Private) I ask your pardon, sir,’ said Mr Chivery in a secretmanner; ‘but which way might you be going?’him.back from within for the inspection of visitors when it pleased‘I am going over the Bridge.’ He saw in Mr Chivery, with Arthur Clennam, with the card in his hand, betook himself tosome astonishment, quite an Allegory of Silence, as he stood the address set forth upon it, and speedily arrived there. It waswith his key on his lips.a very small establishment, wherein a decent woman sat behindthe counter working at her needle. Little jars of tobacco,‘(Private) I ask your pardon again,’ said Mr Chivery, ‘butcould you go round by Horsemonger Lane? Could you by any little boxes of cigars, a little assortment of pipes, a little jar ormeans find time to look in at that address?’ handing him a little two of snuff, and a little instrument like a shoeing horn for servingcard, printed for circulation among the connection of Chivery it out, composed the retail stock in trade.and Co., Tobacconists, Importers of pure Havannah Cigars, Arthur mentioned his name, and his having promised to call,Bengal Cheroots, and fine-flavoured Cubas, Dealers in Fancy on the solicitation of Mr Chivery. About something relating toSnuffs, &C. &C.Miss Dorrit, he believed. Mrs Chivery at once laid aside her‘(Private) It an’t tobacco business,’ said Mr Chivery. ‘The work, rose up from her seat behind the counter, and deploringly253

Charles Dickensshook her head.‘Please to take a seat, sir,’ said Mrs Chivery. ‘Miss Dorrit is‘You may see him now,’ said she, ‘if you’ll condescend to the matter with Our John, sir; he’s a breaking his heart for her,take a peep.’and I would wish to take the liberty to ask how it’s to be madeWith these mysterious words, she preceded the visitor into good to his parents when bust?’a little parlour behind the shop, with a little window in it commandinga very little dull back-yard. In this yard a wash of respected about Horsemonger Lane for her feelings and herMrs Chivery, who was a comfortable-looking woman muchsheets and table-cloths tried (in vain, for want of air) to get conversation, uttered this speech with fell composure, anditself dried on a line or two; and among those flapping articles immediately afterwards began again to shake her head andwas sitting in a chair, like the last mariner left alive on the deck dry her eyes.of a damp ship without the power of furling the sails, a little ‘Sir,’ said she in continuation, ‘you are acquainted with thewoe-begone young man.family, and have interested yourself with the family, and are‘Our John,’ said Mrs Chivery.influential with the family. If you can promote views calculatedNot to be deficient in interest, Clennam asked what he might to make two young people happy, let me, for Our john’s sake,be doing there?and for both their sakes, implore you so to do!’‘It’s the only change he takes,’ said Mrs Chivery, shaking ‘I have been so habituated,’ returned Arthur, at a loss, ‘duringthe short time I have known her, to consider Little— Iher head afresh. ‘He won’t go out, even in the back-yard,when there’s no linen; but when there’s linen to keep the have been so habituated to consider Miss Dorrit in a light altogetherremoved from that in which you present her to me, thatneighbours’ eyes off, he’ll sit there, hours. Hours he will. Sayshe feels as if it was groves!’ Mrs Chivery shook her head you quite take me by surprise. Does she know your son?’again, put her apron in a motherly way to her eyes, and ‘Brought up together, sir,’ said Mrs Chivery. ‘Played together.’reconducted her visitor into the regions of the business.254

Little Dorrit – Book One‘Does she know your son as her admirer?’been himself in this house since. Never was like what he has‘Oh! bless you, sir,’ said Mrs Chivery, with a sort of triumphantshiver, ‘she never could have seen him on a Sunday ago me and his father, as tenants by the quarter, came!’ Anbeen since, not from the hour when to this house seven yearwithout knowing he was that. His cane alone would have told effect in the nature of an affidavit was gained from this speechit long ago, if nothing else had. Young men like John don’t take by Mrs Chivery’s peculiar power of construction. ‘May I ventureto inquire what is your version of the matter?’to ivory hands a pinting, for nothing. How did I first know itmyself? Similarly.’‘You may,’ said Mrs Chivery, ‘and I will give it to you in‘Perhaps Miss Dorrit may not be so ready as you, you see.’ honour and in word as true as in this shop I stand. Our John‘Then she knows it, sir,’ said Mrs Chivery, ‘by word of has every one’s good word and every one’s good wish. Hemouth.’played with her as a child when in that yard a child she played.‘Are you sure?’He has known her ever since. He went out upon the Sunday‘Sir,’ said Mrs Chivery, ‘sure and certain as in this house I afternoon when in this very parlour he had dined, and met her,am. I see my son go out with my own eyes when in this house with appointment or without appointment; which, I do not pretendto say. He made his offer to her. Her brother and sister isI was, and I see my son come in with my own eyes when inthis house I was, and I know he done it!’ Mrs Chivery derived high in their views, and against Our John. Her father is all fora surprising force of emphasis from the foregoing circumstantialityand repetition.der which circumstances she has answered Our John, “No,himself in his views and against sharing her with any one. Un-‘May I ask you how he came to fall into the desponding John, I cannot have you, I cannot have any husband, it is notstate which causes you so much uneasiness?’my intentions ever to become a wife, it is my intentions to be‘That,’ said Mrs Chivery, ‘took place on that same day when always a sacrifice, farewell, find another worthy of you, andto this house I see that John with these eyes return. Never forget me!” This is the way in which she is doomed to be a255

Charles Dickensconstant slave to them that are not worthy that a constant slave was just as good and just as true in love with him, as not inshe unto them should be. This is the way in which Our John love with him; and that to make a kind of domesticated fairy ofhas come to find no pleasure but in taking cold among the her, on the penalty of isolation at heart from the only peoplelinen, and in showing in that yard, as in that yard I have myself she knew, would be but a weakness of his own fancy, and notshown you, a broken-down ruin that goes home to his mother’s a kind one. Still, her youthful and ethereal appearance, herheart!’ Here the good woman pointed to the little window, timid manner, the charm of her sensitive voice and eyes, thewhence her son might be seen sitting disconsolate in the tunelessgroves; and again shook her head and wiped her eyes, own individuality, and the strong difference between herselfvery many respects in which she had interested him out of herand besought him, for the united sakes of both the young and those about her, were not in unison, and were determinedpeople, to exercise his influence towards the bright reversal of not to be in unison, with this newly presented idea.these dismal events.He told the worthy Mrs Chivery, after turning these thingsShe was so confident in her exposition of the case, and it over in his mind—he did that, indeed, while she was yet speaking—thathe might be relied upon to do his utmost at all timeswas so undeniably founded on correct premises in so far asthe relative positions of Little Dorrit and her family were concerned,that Clennam could not feel positive on the other side. wishes of her heart if it were in his power to do so, and if heto promote the happiness of Miss Dorrit, and to further theHe had come to attach to Little Dorrit an interest so peculiar—aninterest that removed her from, while it grew out of, her against assumptions and appearances; enjoined strict si-could discover what they were. At the same time he cautionedthe common and coarse things surrounding her—that he found lence and secrecy, lest Miss Dorrit should be made unhappy;it disappointing, disagreeable, almost painful, to suppose her and particularly advised her to endeavour to win her son’sin love with young Mr Chivery in the back-yard, or any such confidence and so to make quite sure of the state of the case.person. On the other hand, he reasoned with himself that she Mrs Chivery considered the latter precaution superfluous, but256

Little Dorrit – Book Onesaid she would try. She shook her head as if she had not derivedall the comfort she had fondly expected from this inter-They walked together, and she recovered her confiding man-‘No, sir, I am only walking her for a little change.’view, but thanked him nevertheless for the trouble he had kindly ner with him, and looked up in his face as she said, after glancingaround:taken. They then parted good friends, and Arthur walked away.The crowd in the street jostling the crowd in his mind, and ‘It is so strange. Perhaps you can hardly understand it. Ithe two crowds making a confusion, he avoided London sometimes have a sensation as if it was almost unfeeling toBridge, and turned off in the quieter direction of the Iron Bridge. walk here.’He had scarcely set foot upon it, when he saw Little Dorrit ‘Unfeeling?’walking on before him. It was a pleasant day, with a light breeze ‘To see the river, and so much sky, and so many objects,blowing, and she seemed to have that minute come there for and such change and motion. Then to go back, you know, andair. He had left her in her father’s room within an hour. find him in the same cramped place.’It was a timely chance, favourable to his wish of observing ‘Ah yes! But going back, you must remember that you takeher face and manner when no one else was by. He quickened with you the spirit and influence of such things to cheer him.’his pace; but before he reached her, she turned her head. ‘Do I? I hope I may! I am afraid you fancy too much, sir,‘Have I startled you?’ he asked.and make me out too powerful. If you were in prison, could I‘I thought I knew the step,’ she answered, hesitating. bring such comfort to you?’ ‘Yes, Little Dorrit, I am sure of it.’‘And did you know it, Little Dorrit? You could hardly have He gathered from a tremor on her lip, and a passing shadowexpected mine.’of great agitation on her face, that her mind was with her father.He remained silent for a few moments, that she might‘I did not expect any. But when I heard a step, I thought it—sounded like yours.’regain her composure. The Little Dorrit, trembling on his arm,‘Are you going further?’was less in unison than ever with Mrs Chivery’s theory, and257

Charles Dickensyet was not irreconcilable with a new fancy which sprung up a good ‘un I’ll give you a shilling,” it ain’t my fault, mother!’within him, that there might be some one else in the hopeless—newerfancy still—in the hopeless unattainable distance. foresaw that the letters were addressed.Arthur read, in Little Dorrit’s downcast eyes, to whom sheThey turned, and Clennam said, Here was Maggy coming! ‘I’m a going So and So. There! That’s where I am a goingLittle Dorrit looked up, surprised, and they confronted Maggy, to,’ said Maggy. ‘I’m a going So and So. It ain’t you, Littlewho brought herself at sight of them to a dead stop. She had Mother, that’s got anything to do with it—it’s you, you know,’been trotting along, so preoccupied and busy that she had not said Maggy, addressing Arthur. ‘You’d better come, So andrecognised them until they turned upon her. She was now in a So, and let me take and give ‘em to you.’moment so conscience-stricken that her very basket partook ‘We will not be so particular as that, Maggy. Give them meof the change.here,’ said Clennam in a low voice.‘Maggy, you promised me to stop near father.’‘Well, then, come across the road,’ answered Maggy in a‘So I would, Little Mother, only he wouldn’t let me. If he very loud whisper. ‘Little Mother wasn’t to know nothing of it,takes and sends me out I must go. If he takes and says, “Maggy, and she would never have known nothing of it if you had onlyyou hurry away and back with that letter, and you shall have a gone So and So, instead of bothering and loitering about. Itsixpence if the answer’s a good ‘un,” I must take it. Lor, Little ain’t my fault. I must do what I am told. They ought to beMother, what’s a poor thing of ten year old to do? And if Mr ashamed of themselves for telling me.’Tip—if he happens to be a coming in as I come out, and if he Clennam crossed to the other side, and hurriedly openedsays “Where are you going, Maggy?” and if I says, “I’m a the letters. That from the father mentioned that most unexpectedlyfinding himself in the novel position of having beengoing So and So,” and if he says, “I’ll have a Try too,” and ifhe goes into the George and writes a letter and if he gives it me disappointed of a remittance from the City on which he hadand says, “Take that one to the same place, and if the answer’s confidently counted, he took up his pen, being restrained by258

Little Dorrit – Book Onethe unhappy circumstance of his incarceration during threeand-twentyyears (doubly underlined), from coming himself, These letters Clennam answered with the aid of his pencilbe fraught with the usual beneficent consequences.as he would otherwise certainly have done—took up his pen and pocket-book, on the spot; sending the father what he askedto entreat Mr Clennam to advance him the sum of Three Pounds for, and excusing himself from compliance with the demand ofTen Shillings upon his I.O.U., which he begged to enclose. the son. He then commissioned Maggy to return with his replies,and gave her the shilling of which the failure of her supple-That from the son set forth that Mr Clennam would, he knew,be gratified to hear that he had at length obtained permanent mental enterprise would have disappointed her otherwise.employment of a highly satisfactory nature, accompanied with When he rejoined Little Dorrit, and they had begun walkingevery prospect of complete success in life; but that the temporaryinability of his employer to pay him his arrears of salary to ‘I think I had better go. I had better go home.’as before, she said all at once:that date (in which condition said employer had appealed to ‘Don’t be distressed,’ said Clennam, ‘I have answered thethat generous forbearance in which he trusted he should never letters. They were nothing. You know what they were. Theybe wanting towards a fellow-creature), combined with the were nothing.’fraudulent conduct of a false friend and the present high price ‘But I am afraid,’ she returned, ‘to leave him, I am afraid toof provisions, had reduced him to the verge of ruin, unless he leave any of them. When I am gone, they pervert—but theycould by a quarter before six that evening raise the sum of don’t mean it—even Maggy.’eight pounds. This sum, Mr Clennam would be happy to learn, ‘It was a very innocent commission that she undertook, poorhe had, through the promptitude of several friends who had a thing. And in keeping it secret from you, she supposed, nolively confidence in his probity, already raised, with the exceptionof a trifling balance of one pound seventeen and fourpence; ‘Yes, I hope so, I hope so. But I had better go home! It wasdoubt, that she was only saving you uneasiness.’the loan of which balance, for the period of one month, would but the other day that my sister told me I had become so used259

Charles Dickensto the prison that I had its tone and character. It must be so. I She would have been distressed at any time by this discoveryof the letters; but so much so, and in that unrestrainableam sure it must be when I see these things. My place is there.I am better there. it is unfeeling in me to be here, when I can do way?the least thing there. Good-bye. I had far better stay at home!’ No.The agonised way in which she poured this out, as if it burst When she had seen her father begging with his threadbareof itself from her suppressed heart, made it difficult for Clennam disguise on, when she had entreated him not to give her fatherto keep the tears from his eyes as he saw and heard her. money, she had been distressed, but not like this. Something‘Don’t call it home, my child!’ he entreated. ‘It is always had made her keenly and additionally sensitive just now. Now,painful to me to hear you call it home.’was there some one in the hopeless unattainable distance? Or‘But it is home! What else can I call home? Why should I had the suspicion been brought into his mind, by his own associationsof the troubled river running beneath the bridge withever forget it for a single moment?’‘You never do, dear Little Dorrit, in any good and true service.’the ferry-boat, so many miles an hour the peaceful flowing ofthe same river higher up, its changeless tune upon the prow of‘I hope not, O I hope not! But it is better for me to stay the stream, here the rushes, there the lilies, nothing uncertainthere; much better, much more dutiful, much happier. Please or unquiet?don’t go with me, let me go by myself. Good-bye, God bless He thought of his poor child, Little Dorrit, for a long timeyou. Thank you, thank you.’there; he thought of her going home; he thought of her in theHe felt that it was better to respect her entreaty, and did not night; he thought of her when the day came round again. Andmove while her slight form went quickly away from him. When the poor child Little Dorrit thought of him—too faithfully, ah,it had fluttered out of sight, he turned his face towards the too faithfully!—in the shadow of the Marshalsea wall.water and stood thinking.260

Little Dorrit – Book OneClennam,’ said Mr Meagles, with a hearty enjoyment of hisCHAPTER 23 Machinery in Motionfriend’s eccentricity, ‘that I had a whole morning in What’shis-nameYard—’MR MEAGLES BESTIRRED himself with such prompt activity in‘Bleeding Heart?’the matter of the negotiation with Daniel Doyce which Clennam‘A whole morning in Bleeding Heart Yard, before I couldhad entrusted to him, that he soon brought it into businessinduce him to pursue the subject at all?’train, and called on Clennam at nine o’clock one morning to‘How was that?’make his report. ‘Doyce is highly gratified by your good opinion,’he opened the business by saying, ‘and desires nothing‘How was that, my friend? I no sooner mentioned your namein connection with it than he declared off.’so much as that you should examine the affairs of the Works‘Declared off on my account?’for yourself, and entirely understand them. He has handed me‘I no sooner mentioned your name, Clennam, than he said,the keys of all his books and papers—here they are jingling in“That will never do!” What did he mean by that? I asked him.this pocket—and the only charge he has given me is “Let MrNo matter, Meagles; that would never do. Why would it neverClennam have the means of putting himself on a perfect equalitywith me as to knowing whatever I know. If it should comedo? You’ll hardly believe it, Clennam,’ said Mr Meagles, laughingwithin himself, ‘but it came out that it would never do,to nothing after all, he will respect my confidence. Unless Ibecause you and he, walking down to Twickenham together,was sure of that to begin with, I should have nothing to do withhad glided into a friendly conversation in the course of whichhim.” And there, you see,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘you have Danielhe had referred to his intention of taking a partner, supposingDoyce all over.’at the time that you were as firmly and finally settled as St‘A very honourable character.’Paul’s Cathedral. “Whereas,” says he, “Mr Clennam might‘Oh, yes, to be sure. Not a doubt of it. Odd, but verynow believe, if I entertained his proposition, that I had a sinis-honourable. Very odd though. Now, would you believe,261

Charles Dickenster and designing motive in what was open free speech. Which ‘And now,’ added Mr Meagles, ‘you can begin to look intoI can’t bear,” says he, “which I really am too proud to bear.”’ matters as soon as you think proper. I have undertaken to‘I should as soon suspect—’explain where you may want explanation, but to be strictly‘Of course you would,’ interrupted Mr Meagles, ‘and so I impartial, and to do nothing more.’told him. But it took a morning to scale that wall; and I doubt They began their perquisitions in Bleeding Heart Yard thatif any other man than myself (he likes me of old) could have same forenoon. Little peculiarities were easily to be detectedgot his leg over it. Well, Clennam. This business-like obstacle by experienced eyes in Mr Doyce’s way of managing his affairs,but they almost always involved some ingenious simplifi-surmounted, he then stipulated that before resuming with you Ishould look over the books and form my own opinion. I looked cation of a difficulty, and some plain road to the desired end.over the books, and formed my own opinion. “Is it, on the That his papers were in arrear, and that he stood in need ofwhole, for, or against?” says he. “For,” says I. “Then,” says assistance to develop the capacity of his business, was clearhe, “you may now, my good friend, give Mr Clennam the means enough; but all the results of his undertakings during many yearsof forming his opinion. To enable him to do which, without were distinctly set forth, and were ascertainable with ease.bias and with perfect freedom, I shall go out of town for a Nothing had been done for the purposes of the pending investigation;everything was in its genuine working dress, and in aweek.” And he’s gone,’ said Mr Meagles; that’s the rich conclusionof the thing.’certain honest rugged order. The calculations and entries, in‘Leaving me,’ said Clennam, ‘with a high sense, I must say, his own hand, of which there were many, were bluntly written,of his candour and his—’and with no very neat precision; but were always plain and‘Oddity,’ Mr Meagles struck in. ‘I should think so!’ directed straight to the purpose. It occurred to Arthur that aIt was not exactly the word on Clennam’s lips, but he forboreto interrupt his good-humoured friend.records of the Circumlocution Office madefar more elaborate and taking show of business—such as theperhaps—might262

Little Dorrit – Book Onebe far less serviceable, as being meant to be far less intelligible.practical man, to both of you.’right hand to the other. Here’s my own right hand upon it, as aThree or four days of steady application tendered him masterof all the facts it was essential to become acquainted with. in possession of private personal means not exceeding a fewThe purchase was completed within a month. It left ArthurMr Meagles was at hand the whole time, always ready to hundred pounds; but it opened to him an active and promisingilluminate any dim place with the bright little safety-lamp belongingto the scales and scoop. Between them they agreed casion; the factory and the factory wives and children madecareer. The three friends dined together on the auspicious oc-upon the sum it would be fair to offer for the purchase of a holiday and dined too; even Bleeding Heart Yard dined andhalf-share in the business, and then Mr Meagles unsealed a was full of meat. Two months had barely gone by in all, whenpaper in which Daniel Doyce had noted the amount at which Bleeding Heart Yard had become so familiar with short-commonsagain, that the treat was forgotten there; when nothinghe valued it; which was even something less. Thus, when Danielcame back, he found the affair as good as concluded. seemed new in the partnership but the paint of the inscription‘And I may now avow, Mr Clennam,’ said he, with a cordial on the door-posts, Doyce and Clennam; when it appearedshake of the hand, ‘that if I had looked high and low for a even to Clennam himself, that he had had the affairs of the firmpartner, I believe I could not have found one more to my mind.’ in his mind for years.‘I say the same,’ said Clennam.The little counting-house reserved for his own occupation,‘And I say of both of you,’ added Mr Meagles, ‘that you are was a room of wood and glass at the end of a long low workshop,filled with benches, and vices, and tools, and straps, andwell matched. You keep him in check, Clennam, with your commonsense, and you stick to the Works, Dan, with your—’ wheels; which, when they were in gear with the steam-engine,‘Uncommon sense?’ suggested Daniel, with his quiet smile. went tearing round as though they had a suicidal mission to‘You may call it so, if you like—and each of you will be a grind the business to dust and tear the factory to pieces. A263

Charles Dickenscommunication of great trap-doors in the floor and roof with second bonnet was on the head of Flora, who seemed to havethe workshop above and the workshop below, made a shaft propelled her legacy up the steep ascent with considerableof light in this perspective, which brought to Clennam’s mind difficulty. Though not altogether enraptured at the sight of thesethe child’s old picture-book, where similar rays were the witnessesof Abel’s murder. The noises were sufficiently removed door, and extricating them from the workshop; a rescue whichvisitors, Clennam lost no time in opening the counting-houseand shut out from the counting-house to blend into a busy was rendered the more necessary by Mr F.’s Aunt alreadyhum, interspersed with periodical clinks and thumps. The patientfigures at work were swarthy with the filings of iron and as an Institution with a stony reticule she carried.stumbling over some impediment, and menacing steam powersteel that danced on every bench and bubbled up through everychink in the planking. The workshop was arrived at by a proper—the climb we have had to get up here and how ever‘Good gracious, Arthur,—I should say Mr Clennam, far morestep-ladder from the outer yard below, where it served as a to get down again without a fire-escape and Mr F.’s Auntshelter for the large grindstone where tools were sharpened. slipping through the steps and bruised all over and you in theThe whole had at once a fanciful and practical air in Clennam’s machinery and foundry way too only think, and never told us!’eyes, which was a welcome change; and, as often as he raised Thus, Flora, out of breath. Meanwhile, Mr F.’s Aunt rubbedthem from his first work of getting the array of business documentsinto perfect order, he glanced at these things with a feel-‘Most unkind never to have come back to see us since thather esteemed insteps with her umbrella, and vindictively glared.ing of pleasure in his pursuit that was new to him.day, though naturally it was not to be expected that there shouldRaising his eyes thus one day, he was surprised to see a be any attraction at our house and you were much more pleasantlyengaged, that’s pretty certain, and is she fair or dark bluebonnet labouring up the step-ladder. The unusual apparitionwas followed by another bonnet. He then perceived that the eyes or black I wonder, not that I expect that she should befirst bonnet was on the head of Mr F.’s Aunt, and that the anything but a perfect contrast to me in all particulars for I am264

Little Dorrit – Book Onea disappointment as I very well know and you are quite right denied and much nearer though higher up!’to be devoted no doubt though what I am saying Arthur never ‘I am very happy to see you,’ said Clennam, ‘and I thankmind I hardly know myself Good gracious!’you, Flora, very much for your kind remembrance.’By this time he had placed chairs for them in the countinghouse.As Flora dropped into hers, she bestowed the old look ‘for I might have been dead and buried twenty distinct times‘More than I can say myself at any rate,’ returned Flora,upon him.over and no doubt whatever should have been before you had‘And to think of Doyce and Clennam, and who Doyce can genuinely remembered Me or anything like it in spite of whichbe,’ said Flora; ‘delightful man no doubt and married perhaps one last remark I wish to make, one last explanation I wish toor perhaps a daughter, now has he really? then one understandsthe partnership and sees it all, don’t tell me anything ‘My dear Mrs Finching,’ Arthur remonstrated in alarm.offer—’about it for I know I have no claim to ask the question the ‘Oh not that disagreeable name, say Flora!’golden chain that once was forged being snapped and very ‘Flora, is it worth troubling yourself afresh to enter into explanations?I assure you none are needed. I am satisfied—Iproper.’Flora put her hand tenderly on his, and gave him another of am perfectly satisfied.’the youthful glances.A diversion was occasioned here, by Mr F.’s Aunt making‘Dear Arthur—force of habit, Mr Clennam every way more the following inexorable and awful statement:delicate and adapted to existing circumstances—I must beg to ‘There’s mile-stones on the Dover road!’be excused for taking the liberty of this intrusion but I thought With such mortal hostility towards the human race did sheI might so far presume upon old times for ever faded never discharge this missile, that Clennam was quite at a loss how tomore to bloom as to call with Mr F.’s Aunt to congratulate and defend himself; the rather as he had been already perplexed inoffer best wishes, A great deal superior to China not to be his mind by the honour of a visit from this venerable lady, when265

Charles Dickensit was plain she held him in the utmost abhorrence. He could ing kindly meant it may be hoped will be kindly taken Arthur,not but look at her with disconcertment, as she sat breathing Mr Clennam far more proper, even Doyce and Clennam probablymore business-like.’bitterness and scorn, and staring leagues away. Flora, however,received the remark as if it had been of a most apposite ‘Pray say nothing in the way of apology,’ Arthur entreated.and agreeable nature; approvingly observing aloud that Mr ‘You are always welcome.’F.’s Aunt had a great deal of spirit. Stimulated either by this ‘Very polite of you to say so Arthur—cannot remember Mrcompliment, or by her burning indignation, that illustrious woman Clennam until the word is out, such is the habit of times forthen added, ‘Let him meet it if he can!’ And, with a rigid movementof her stony reticule (an appendage of great size and of a chain has bound people, fond memory brings the light of otherever fled, and so true it is that oft in the stilly night ere slumber’sfossil appearance), indicated that Clennam was the unfortunateperson at whom the challenge was hurled.am afraid, for to go into the machinery business without sodays around people—very polite but more polite than true I‘One last remark,’ resumed Flora, ‘I was going to say I much as sending a line or a card to papa—I don’t say mewish to make one last explanation I wish to offer, Mr F.’s Aunt though there was a time but that is past and stern reality hasand myself would not have intruded on business hours Mr F. now my gracious never mind—does not look like it you musthaving been in business and though the wine trade still businessis equally business call it what you will and business hab-Even Flora’s commas seemed to have fled on this occasion;confess.’its are just the same as witness Mr F. himself who had his she was so much more disjointed and voluble than in the precedinginterview.slippers always on the mat at ten minutes before six in theafternoon and his boots inside the fender at ten minutes before ‘Though indeed,’ she hurried on, ‘nothing else is to be expectedand why should it be expected and if it’s not to beeight in the morning to the moment in all weathers light or dark—would not therefore have intruded without a motive which be-expected why should it be, and I am far from blaming you or266

Little Dorrit – Book Oneany one, When your mama and my papa worried us to death it and you know it too and can’t deny it.’and severed the golden bowl—I mean bond but I dare say ‘But I do deny it, Flora. I should soon have made you ayou know what I mean and if you don’t you don’t lose much friendly visit.’and care just as little I will venture to add—when they severed ‘Ah!’ said Flora, tossing her head. ‘I dare say!’ and shethe golden bond that bound us and threw us into fits of crying gave him another of the old looks. ‘However when Panckson the sofa nearly choked at least myself everything was told us I made up my mind that Mr F.’s Aunt and I wouldchanged and in giving my hand to Mr F. I know I did so with come and call because when papa—which was before that—my eyes open but he was so very unsettled and in such low happened to mention her name to me and to say that you werespirits that he had distractedly alluded to the river if not oil of interested in her I said at the moment Good gracious why notsomething from the chemist’s and I did it for the best.’ have her here then when there’s anything to do instead of puttingit out.’‘My good Flora, we settled that before. It was all quite right.’‘It’s perfectly clear you think so,’ returned Flora, ‘for you ‘When you say Her,’ observed Clennam, by this time prettytake it very coolly, if I hadn’t known it to be China I should well bewildered, ‘do you mean Mr F.’s—’have guessed myself the Polar regions, dear Mr Clennam you ‘My goodness, Arthur—Doyce and Clennam really easierare right however and I cannot blame you but as to Doyce and to me with old remembrances—who ever heard of Mr F.’sClennam papa’s property being about here we heard it from Aunt doing needlework and going out by the day?’Pancks and but for him we never should have heard one word ‘Going out by the day! Do you speak of Little Dorrit?’ ‘Whyabout it I am satisfied.’yes of course,’ returned Flora; ‘and of all the strangest names‘No, no, don’t say that.’I ever heard the strangest, like a place down in the country‘What nonsense not to say it Arthur—Doyce and Clennam— with a turnpike, or a favourite pony or a puppy or a bird oreasier and less trying to me than Mr Clennam—when I know something from a seed-shop to be put in a garden or a flower-267

Charles Dickenspot and come up speckled.’engaged at our house when required for I know she often‘Then, Flora,’ said Arthur, with a sudden interest in the conversation,‘Mr Casby was so kind as to mention Little Dorrit touchy temper Arthur—Doyce and Clennam—or I never mightgoes to your mama’s and I know that your mama has a veryto you, was he? What did he say?’have married Mr F. and might have been at this hour but I am‘Oh you know what papa is,’ rejoined Flora, ‘and how running into nonsense.’aggravatingly he sits looking beautiful and turning his thumbs ‘It was very kind of you, Flora, to think of this.’over and over one another till he makes one giddy if one keeps Poor Flora rejoined with a plain sincerity which became herone’s eyes upon him, he said when we were talking of you— better than her youngest glances, that she was glad he thoughtI don’t know who began the subject Arthur (Doyce and so. She said it with so much heart that Clennam would haveClennam) but I am sure it wasn’t me, at least I hope not but given a great deal to buy his old character of her on the spot,you really must excuse my confessing more on that point.’ and throw it and the mermaid away for ever.‘Certainly,’ said Arthur. ‘By all means.’‘I think, Flora,’ he said, ‘that the employment you can give‘You are very ready,’ pouted Flora, coming to a sudden Little Dorrit, and the kindness you can show her—’stop in a captivating bashfulness, ‘that I must admit, Papa said ‘Yes and I will,’ said Flora, quickly.you had spoken of her in an earnest way and I said what I ‘I am sure of it—will be a great assistance and support tohave told you and that’s all.’her. I do not feel that I have the right to tell you what I know of‘That’s all?’ said Arthur, a little disappointed.her, for I acquired the knowledge confidentially, and under‘Except that when Pancks told us of your having embarked circumstances that bind me to silence. But I have an interest inin this business and with difficulty persuaded us that it was the little creature, and a respect for her that I cannot expressreally you I said to Mr F.’s Aunt then we would come and ask to you. Her life has been one of such trial and devotion, andyou if it would be agreeable to all parties that she should be such quiet goodness, as you can scarcely imagine. I can hardly268

Little Dorrit – Book Onethink of her, far less speak of her, without feeling moved. Let itself profound), by means of his blue eyes, his shining head,that feeling represent what I could tell you, and commit her to and his long white hair, was most impressive. It seemed worthyour friendliness with my thanks.’putting down among the noblest sentiments enunciated by theOnce more he put out his hand frankly to poor Flora; once best of men. Also, when he said to Clennam, seating himself inmore poor Flora couldn’t accept it frankly, found it worth nothingopenly, must make the old intrigue and mystery of it. As Clennam? I wish you well, sir, I wish you well!’ he seemed tothe proffered chair, ‘And you are in a new business, Mrmuch to her own enjoyment as to his dismay, she covered it have done benevolent wonders.with a corner of her shawl as she took it. Then, looking towardsthe glass front of the counting-house, and seeing two making his acknowledgments; the relict of the late Mr F. mean-‘Mrs Finching has been telling me, sir,’ said Arthur, afterfigures approaching, she cried with infinite relish, ‘Papa! Hush, while protesting, with a gesture, against his use of that respectablename; ‘that she hopes occasionally to employ the youngArthur, for Mercy’s sake!’ and tottered back to her chair withan amazing imitation of being in danger of swooning, in the needlewoman you recommended to my mother. For which Idread surprise and maidenly flutter of her spirits.have been thanking her.’The Patriarch, meanwhile, came inanely beaming towards The Patriarch turning his head in a lumbering way towardsthe counting-house in the wake of Pancks. Pancks opened the Pancks, that assistant put up the note-book in which he haddoor for him, towed him in, and retired to his own moorings in been absorbed, and took him in tow.a corner.‘You didn’t recommend her, you know,’ said Pancks; ‘how could‘I heard from Flora,’ said the Patriarch with his benevolent you? You knew nothing about her, you didn’t. The name was mentionedto you, and you passed it on. That’s what you did.’smile, ‘that she was coming to call, coming to call. And beingout, I thought I’d come also, thought I’d come also.’‘Well!’ said Clennam. ‘As she justifies any recommendation,it is much the same The benign wisdom he infused into this declaration (not ofthing.’269

Charles Dickens‘You are glad she turns out well,’ said Pancks, ‘but it wouldn’t natural legs. It don’t make either of them able to do a walkinghave been your fault if she had turned out ill. The credit’s not match. And four wooden legs are more troublesome to youyours as it is, and the blame wouldn’t have been yours as it than two, when you don’t want any.’ Mr Pancks concludedmight have been. You gave no guarantee. You knew nothing by blowing off that steam of his.about her.’ ‘You are not acquainted, then,’ said Arthur, A momentary silence that ensued was broken by Mr F.’shazarding a random question, ‘with any of her family?’ Aunt, who had been sitting upright in a cataleptic state since‘Acquainted with any of her family?’ returned Pancks. ‘How her last public remark. She now underwent a violent twitch,should you be acquainted with any of her family? You never calculated to produce a startling effect on the nerves of theheard of ‘em. You can’t be acquainted with people you never uninitiated, and with the deadliest animosity observed:heard of, can you? You should think not!’‘You can’t make a head and brains out of a brass knob withAll this time the Patriarch sat serenely smiling; nodding or nothing in it. You couldn’t do it when your Uncle George wasshaking his head benevolently, as the case required.living; much less when he’s dead.’‘As to being a reference,’ said Pancks, ‘you know, in a generalway, what being a reference means. It’s all your eye, that ‘Indeed, ma’am! Bless my soul! I’m surprised to hear it.’ De-Mr Pancks was not slow to reply, with his usual calmness,is! Look at your tenants down the Yard here. They’d all be spite his presence of mind, however, the speech of Mr F.’sreferences for one another, if you’d let ‘em. What would be Aunt produced a depressing effect on the little assembly; firstly,the good of letting ‘em? It’s no satisfaction to be done by two because it was impossible to disguise that Clennam’smen instead of one. One’s enough. A person who can’t pay, unoffending head was the particular temple of reason depreciated;and secondly, because nobody ever knew on these oc-gets another person who can’t pay, to guarantee that he canpay. Like a person with two wooden legs getting another personwith two wooden legs, to guarantee that he has got two tral presence might be invoked under thatcasions whose Uncle George was referred to, or what spec-appellation.270

Little Dorrit – Book OneTherefore Flora said, though still not without a certain boastfulnessand triumph in her legacy, that Mr F.’s Aunt was ‘very of having done it himself, and blandly followed: leaving hisand success. The patriarchal Mr Casby then rose with the airlively to-day, and she thought they had better go.’ But Mr F.’s daughter, as she followed in her turn, to remark to her formerAunt proved so lively as to take the suggestion in unexpected lover in a distracted whisper (which she very much enjoyed),dudgeon and declare that she would not go; adding, with severalinjurious expressions, that if ‘He’—too evidently meaning hint mysteriously that the late Mr F. was at the bottom of it.that they had drained the cup of life to the dregs; and further toClennam—wanted to get rid of her, ‘let him chuck her out of Alone again, Clennam became a prey to his old doubts inwinder;’ and urgently expressing her desire to see ‘Him’ performthat ceremony.thoughts and suspicions. They were all in his mind, blendingreference to his mother and Little Dorrit, and revolved the oldIn this dilemma, Mr Pancks, whose resources appeared equal themselves with the duties he was mechanically discharging,to any emergency in the Patriarchal waters, slipped on his hat, when a shadow on his papers caused him to look up for theslipped out at the counting-house door, and slipped in again a cause. The cause was Mr Pancks. With his hat thrown backmoment afterwards with an artificial freshness upon him, as if upon his ears as if his wiry prongs of hair had darted up likehe had been in the country for some weeks. ‘Why, bless my springs and cast it off, with his jet-black beads of eyes inquisitivelysharp, with the fingers of his right hand in his mouth thatheart, ma’am!’ said Mr Pancks, rubbing up his hair in greatastonishment, ‘is that you?he might bite the nails, and with the fingers of his left hand inHow do you do, ma’am? You are looking charming to-day! reserve in his pocket for another course, Mr Pancks cast hisI am delighted to see you. Favour me with your arm, ma’am; shadow through the glass upon the books and papers.we’ll have a little walk together, you and me, if you’ll honour Mr Pancks asked, with a little inquiring twist of his head, ifme with your company.’ And so escorted Mr F.’s Aunt down he might come in again? Clennam replied with a nod of histhe private staircase of the counting-house with great gallantry head in the affirmative. Mr Pancks worked his way in, came271

Charles Dickensalongside the desk, made himself fast by leaning his arms upon suade you to furnish it. A, B, C, D. DA, DE, DI, DO. Dictionaryorder.it, and started conversation with a puff and a snort.‘Mr F.’s Aunt is appeased, I hope?’ said Clennam.Dorrit. That’s the name, sir?’‘All right, sir,’ said Pancks.Mr Pancks blew off his peculiar noise again, and fell to at his‘I am so unfortunate as to have awakened a strong animosityin the breast of that lady,’ said Clennam. ‘Do you know the look.right-hand nails. Arthur looked searchingly at him; he returnedwhy?’‘I don’t understand you, Mr Pancks.’‘Does she know why?’ said Pancks.‘That’s the name that I want to know about.’‘I suppose not.’‘And what do you want to know?’‘I suppose not,’ said Pancks.‘Whatever you can and will tell me.’ This comprehensiveHe took out his note-book, opened it, shut it, dropped it summary of his desires was not discharged without some heavyinto his hat, which was beside him on the desk, and looked in labouring on the part of Mr Pancks’s machinery.at it as it lay at the bottom of the hat: all with a great appearanceof consideration.traordinary that you should come, with such an object, to me.’‘This is a singular visit, Mr Pancks. It strikes me as rather ex-‘Mr Clennam,’ he then began, ‘I am in want of information, ‘It may be all extraordinary together,’ returned Pancks. ‘Itsir.’may be out of the ordinary course, and yet be business. In‘Connected with this firm?’ asked Clennam.short, it is business. I am a man of business. What business‘No,’ said Pancks.have I in this present world, except to stick to business? No‘With what then, Mr Pancks? That is to say, assuming that business.’you want it of me.’With his former doubt whether this dry hard personage were‘Yes, sir; yes, I want it of you,’ said Pancks, ‘if I can per-quite in earnest, Clennam again turned his eyes attentively upon272

Little Dorrit – Book Onehis face. It was as scrubby and dingy as ever, and as eager ‘Mr Pancks, not to trespass on your grounds of mystery, Iand quick as ever, and he could see nothing lurking in it that will be as plain with you as I can. Let me ask two questions.was at all expressive of a latent mockery that had seemed to First—’strike upon his ear in the voice.‘All right!’ said Pancks, holding up his dirty forefinger with‘Now,’ said Pancks, ‘to put this business on its own footing, his broken nail. ‘I see! “What’s your motive?”’it’s not my proprietor’s.’‘Exactly.’‘Do you refer to Mr Casby as your proprietor?’‘Motive,’ said Pancks, ‘good. Nothing to do with my proprietor;not stateable at present, ridiculous to state at present;Pancks nodded. ‘My proprietor. Put a case. Say, at myproprietor’s I hear name—name of young person Mr Clennam but good.wants to serve. Say, name first mentioned to my proprietor by Desiring to serve young person, name of Dorrit,’ said Pancks,Plornish in the Yard. Say, I go to Plornish. Say, I ask Plornish with his forefinger still up as a caution. ‘Better admit motive toas a matter of business for information. Say, Plornish, though be good.’six weeks in arrear to my proprietor, declines. Say, Mrs Plornish ‘Secondly, and lastly, what do you want to know?’declines. Say, both refer to Mr Clennam. Put the case.’ ‘Well?’ Mr Pancks fished up his note-book before the question was‘Well, sir,’ returned Pancks, ‘say, I come to him. Say, here I am.’ put, and buttoning it with care in an inner breast-pocket, andWith those prongs of hair sticking up all over his head, and looking straight at Clennam all the time, replied with a pausehis breath coming and going very hard and short, the busy and a puff, ‘I want supplementary information of any sort.’Pancks fell back a step (in Tug metaphor, took half a turn Clennam could not withhold a smile, as the panting littleastern) as if to show his dingy hull complete, then forged a- steam-tug, so useful to that unwieldy ship, the Casby, waitedhead again, and directed his quick glance by turns into his hat on and watched him as if it were seeking an opportunity ofwhere his note-book was, and into Clennam’s face. running in and rifling him of all he wanted before he could resist273

Charles Dickensits manoeuvres; though there was that in Mr Pancks’s eagerness,too, which awakened many wondering speculations in tous manner as he became more interested, listened with greatMr Pancks, snorting and blowing in a more and more porten-his mind. After a little consideration, he resolved to supply Mr attention; appearing to derive the most agreeable sensationsPancks with such leading information as it was in his power to from the painfullest parts of the narrative, and particularly toimpart him; well knowing that Mr Pancks, if he failed in his be quite charmed by the account of William Dorrit’s long imprisonment.present research, was pretty sure to find other means of gettingit.‘In conclusion, Mr Pancks,’ said Arthur, ‘I have but to sayHe, therefore, first requesting Mr Pancks to remember his this. I have reasons beyond a personal regard for speaking asvoluntary declaration that his proprietor had no part in the disclosure,and that his own intentions were good (two declara-house’ (Mr Pancks nodded), ‘and for knowing as much as Ilittle as I can of the Dorrit family, particularly at my mother’stions which that coaly little gentleman with the greatest ardour can. So devoted a man of business as you are—eh?’repeated), openly told him that as to the Dorrit lineage or former For Mr Pancks had suddenly made that blowing effort withplace of habitation, he had no information to communicate, unusual force.and that his knowledge of the family did not extend beyond ‘It’s nothing,’ said Pancks.the fact that it appeared to be now reduced to five members; ‘So devoted a man of business as yourself has a perfectnamely, to two brothers, of whom one was single, and one a understanding of a fair bargain. I wish to make a fair bargainwidower with three children. The ages of the whole family he with you, that you shall enlighten me concerning the Dorritmade known to Mr Pancks, as nearly as he could guess at family when you have it in your power, as I have enlightenedthem; and finally he described to him the position of the Father you. It may not give you a very flattering idea of my businessof the Marshalsea, and the course of time and events through habits, that I failed to make my terms beforehand,’ continuedwhich he had become invested with that character. To all this, Clennam; ‘but I prefer to make them a point of honour. I have274

Little Dorrit – Book Oneseen so much business done on sharp principles that, to tell property! That’s the watchword down the Yard. The lameyou the truth, Mr Pancks, I am tired of them.’foreigner with the stick represented that you sent him; but heMr Pancks laughed. ‘It’s a bargain, sir,’ said he. ‘You shall could represent (as far as that goes) that the Great Mogul sentfind me stick to it.’him. He has been in the hospital, I believe?’After that, he stood a little while looking at Clennam, and ‘Yes. Through having met with an accident. He is only justbiting his ten nails all round; evidently while he fixed in his mind now discharged.’what he had been told, and went over it carefully, before the ‘It’s pauperising a man, sir, I have been shown, to let himmeans of supplying a gap in his memory should be no longer at into a hospital?’ said Pancks. And again blew off that remarkablesound.hand. ‘It’s all right,’ he said at last, ‘and now I’ll wish yougood day, as it’s collecting day in the Yard. By-the-bye, though. ‘I have been shown so too,’ said Clennam, coldly.A lame foreigner with a stick.’Mr Pancks, being by that time quite ready for a start, got‘Ay, ay. You do take a reference sometimes, I see?’ said under steam in a moment, and, without any other signal orClennam.ceremony, was snorting down the step-ladder and working‘When he can pay, sir,’ replied Pancks. ‘Take all you can into Bleeding Heart Yard, before he seemed to be well out ofget, and keep back all you can’t be forced to give up. That’s the counting-house.business. The lame foreigner with the stick wants a top room Throughout the remainder of the day, Bleeding Heart Yarddown the Yard. Is he good for it?’was in consternation, as the grim Pancks cruised in it; haranguing‘I am,’ said Clennam, ‘and I will answer for him.’ the inhabitants on their backslidings in respect of payment,‘That’s enough. What I must have of Bleeding Heart Yard,’ demanding his bond, breathing notices to quit and executions,said Pancks, making a note of the case in his book, ‘is my running down defaulters, sending a swell of terror on beforebond. I want my bond, you see. Pay up, or produce your him, and leaving it in his wake. Knots of people, impelled by a275

Charles Dickensfatal attraction, lurked outside any house in which he was known in his hands, and never know him in his true light. For (said theto be, listening for fragments of his discourses to the inmates; Bleeding Hearts), if a gentleman with that head of hair andand, when he was rumoured to be coming down the stairs, them eyes took his rents into his own hands, ma’am, thereoften could not disperse so quickly but that he would be prematurelyin among them, demanding their own arrears, and be very different.would be none of this worriting and wearing, and things wouldrooting them to the spot. Throughout the remainder of the day, At which identical evening hour and minute, the Patriarch—Mr Pancks’s What were they up to? and What did they mean who had floated serenely through the Yard in the forenoonby it? sounded all over the Yard. Mr Pancks wouldn’t hear of before the harrying began, with the express design of gettingexcuses, wouldn’t hear of complaints, wouldn’t hear of repairs,wouldn’t hear of anything but unconditional money down. which identical hour and minute, that first-rate humbug of aup this trustfulness in his shining bumps and silken locks—atPerspiring and puffing and darting about in eccentric directions,and becoming hotter and dingier every moment, he lashed exhausted Tug at home, and was saying, as he turned histhousand guns was heavily floundering in the little Dock of histhe tide of the yard into a most agitated and turbid state. It had thumbs:not settled down into calm water again full two hours after he ‘A very bad day’s work, Pancks, very bad day’s work. Ithad been seen fuming away on the horizon at the top of the seems to me, sir, and I must insist on making this observationsteps.forcibly in justice to myself, that you ought to have got muchThere were several small assemblages of the Bleeding Hearts more money, much more money.’at the popular points of meeting in the Yard that night, amongwhom it was universally agreed that Mr Pancks was a hardman to have to do with; and that it was much to be regretted,so it was, that a gentleman like Mr Casby should put his rents276

Little Dorrit – Book OnePancks, he does, he really does, he does indeed!’CHAPTER 24 Fortune-TellingMr Plornish, after his usual manner, was a little obscure, butconscientiously emphatic.LITTLE DORRIT RECEIVED a call that same evening from Mr‘And what she come to our place for,’ he pursued, ‘was toPlornish, who, having intimated that he wished to speak to herleave word that if Miss Dorrit would step up to that card—privately, in a series of coughs so very noticeable as to favourwhich it’s Mr Casby’s house that is, and Pancks he has a officeat the back, where he really does, beyond belief—shethe idea that her father, as regarded her seamstress occupation,was an illustration of the axiom that there are no suchwould be glad for to engage her. She was a old and a dearstone-blind men as those who will not see, obtained an audiencewith her on the common staircase outside the door.friend, she said particular, of Mr Clennam, and hoped for toprove herself a useful friend to his friend. Them was her words.‘There’s been a lady at our place to-day, Miss Dorrit,’Wishing to know whether Miss Dorrit could come to-morrowPlornish growled, ‘and another one along with her as is a oldmorning, I said I would see you, Miss, and inquire, and lookwixen if ever I met with such. The way she snapped a person’sround there to-night, to say yes, or, if you was engaged tomorrow,when.’head off, dear me!’The mild Plornish was at first quite unable to get his mind‘I can go to-morrow, thank you,’ said Little Dorrit. ‘This isaway from Mr F.’s Aunt. ‘For,’ said he, to excuse himself,very kind of you, but you are always kind.’‘she is, I do assure you, the winegariest party.’Mr Plornish, with a modest disavowal of his merits, openedAt length, by a great effort, he detached himself from thethe room door for her readmission, and followed her in withsubject sufficiently to observe:such an exceedingly bald pretence of not having been out at‘But she’s neither here nor there just at present. The otherall, that her father might have observed it without being verylady, she’s Mr Casby’s daughter; and if Mr Casby an’t wellsuspicious. In his affable unconsciousness, however, he tookoff, none better, it an’t through any fault of Pancks. For, as to277

Charles Dickensno heed. Plornish, after a little conversation, in which he blended upon it laid for one. The young woman, disappearing for a fewhis former duty as a Collegian with his present privilege as a moments, returned to say that she was to please to take ahumble outside friend, qualified again by his low estate as a chair by the fire, and to take off her bonnet and make herselfplasterer, took his leave; making the tour of the prison before at home. But Little Dorrit, being bashful, and not used to makehe left, and looking on at a game of skittles with the mixed herself at home on such occasions, felt at a loss how to do it;feelings of an old inhabitant who had his private reasons for so she was still sitting near the door with her bonnet on, whenbelieving that it might be his destiny to come back again. Flora came in in a hurry half an hour afterwards.Early in the morning, Little Dorrit, leaving Maggy in high Flora was so sorry to have kept her waiting, and good graciouswhy did she sit out there in the cold when she had ex-domestic trust, set off for the Patriarchal tent. She went by theIron Bridge, though it cost her a penny, and walked more slowly pected to find her by the fire reading the paper, and hadn’tin that part of her journey than in any other. At five minutes that heedless girl given her the message then, and had she reallybeen in her bonnet all this time, and pray for goodnessbefore eight her hand was on the Patriarchal knocker, whichwas quite as high as she could reach.sake let Flora take it off! Flora taking it off in the best-naturedShe gave Mrs Finching’s card to the young woman who manner in the world, was so struck with the face disclosed,opened the door, and the young woman told her that ‘Miss that she said, ‘Why, what a good little thing you are, my dear!’Flora’—Flora having, on her return to the parental roof, reinvestedherself with the title under which she had lived there— women.and pressed her face between her hands like the gentlest ofwas not yet out of her bedroom, but she was to please to walk It was the word and the action of a moment. Little Dorritup into Miss Flora’s sitting-room. She walked up into Miss had hardly time to think how kind it was, when Flora dashedFlora’s sitting-room, as in duty bound, and there found a breakfast-tablecomfortably laid for two, with a supplementary tray and ears intoat the breakfast-table full of business, and plunged over headloquacity.278

Little Dorrit – Book One‘Really so sorry that I should happen to be late on this morning indeed if you could come here upon any other, besides whichof all mornings because my intention and my wish was to be Arthur Clennam spoke in such terms—you are tired my dear.’ready to meet you when you came in and to say that any one ‘No, ma’am.’that interested Arthur Clennam half so much must interest me ‘You turn so pale you have walked too far before breakfastand that I gave you the heartiest welcome and was so glad, and I dare say live a great way off and ought to have had ainstead of which they never called me and there I still am snoringI dare say if the truth was known and if you don’t like you good?’ride,’ said Flora, ‘dear dear is there anything that would doeither cold fowl or hot boiled ham which many people don’t I ‘Indeed I am quite well, ma’am. I thank you again and again,dare say besides Jews and theirs are scruples of conscience but I am quite well.’which we must all respect though I must say I wish they had ‘Then take your tea at once I beg,’ said Flora, ‘and this wingthem equally strong when they sell us false articles for real that of fowl and bit of ham, don’t mind me or wait for me, because Icertainly ain’t worth the money I shall be quite vexed,’ said always carry in this tray myself to Mr F.’s Aunt who breakfastsFlora.in bed and a charming old lady too and very clever, Portrait ofLittle Dorrit thanked her, and said, shyly, bread-and-butter Mr F. behind the door and very like though too much foreheadand tea was all she usually—and as to a pillar with a marble pavement and balustrades and a‘Oh nonsense my dear child I can never hear of that,’ said mountain, I never saw him near it nor not likely in the wine trade,Flora, turning on the urn in the most reckless manner, and excellent man but not at all in that way.’making herself wink by splashing hot water into her eyes as Little Dorrit glanced at the portrait, very imperfectly followingthe references to that work of art.she bent down to look into the teapot. ‘You are coming hereon the footing of a friend and companion you know if you will ‘Mr F. was so devoted to me that he never could bear melet me take that liberty and I should be ashamed of myself out of his sight,’ said Flora, ‘though of course I am unable to279

Charles Dickenssay how long that might have lasted if he hadn’t been cut short ‘You see, my dear,’ said Flora, measuring out a spoonful orwhile I was a new broom, worthy man but not poetical manly two of some brown liquid that smelt like brandy, and putting itprose but not romance.’into her tea, ‘I am obliged to be careful to follow the directionsLittle Dorrit glanced at the portrait again. The artist had given of my medical man though the flavour is anything but agreeablebeing a poor creature and it may be have never recov-it a head that would have been, in an intellectual point of view,top-heavy for Shakespeare. ‘Romance, however,’ Flora went ered the shock received in youth from too much giving way toon, busily arranging Mr F.’s Aunt’s toast, ‘as I openly said to crying in the next room when separated from Arthur, have youMr F. when he proposed to me and you will be surprised to known him long?’hear that he proposed seven times once in a hackney-coach As soon as Little Dorrit comprehended that she had beenonce in a boat once in a pew once on a donkey at Tunbridge asked this question—for which time was necessary, the gallopingpace of her new patroness having left her far behind—Wells and the rest on his knees, Romance was fled with theearly days of Arthur Clennam, our parents tore us asunder we she answered that she had known Mr Clennam ever since hisbecame marble and stern reality usurped the throne, Mr F. return.said very much to his credit that he was perfectly aware of it ‘To be sure you couldn’t have known him before unless youand even preferred that state of things accordingly the word had been in China or had corresponded neither of which iswas spoken the fiat went forth and such is life you see my dear likely,’ returned Flora, ‘for travelling-people usually get moreand yet we do not break but bend, pray make a good breakfastwhile I go in with the tray.’sponding what about? that’s very true unless tea, so it was ator less mahogany and you are not at all so and as to corre-She disappeared, leaving Little Dorrit to ponder over the meaningof her scattered words. She soon came back again; and at sible and firm but dreadfully severe—ought to be the motherhis mother’s was it really that you knew him first, highly sen-last began to take her own breakfast, talking all the while. of the man in the iron mask.”280

Little Dorrit – Book One‘Mrs Clennam has been kind to me,’ said Little Dorrit. attend too. I would rather, if I may.’‘Really? I am sure I am glad to hear it because as Arthur’s Her earnestness was so expressive of her being uneasy withouther work, that Flora answered, ‘Well my dear whatevermother it’s naturally pleasant to my feelings to have a betteropinion of her than I had before, though what she thinks of me you like best,’ and produced a basket of white handkerchiefs.when I run on as I am certain to do and she sits glowering at Little Dorrit gladly put it by her side, took out her little pockethousewife,threaded the needle, and began to hem.me like Fate in a go-cart—shocking comparison really—invalidand not her fault—I never know or can imagine.’ ‘What nimble fingers you have,’ said Flora, ‘but are you‘Shall I find my work anywhere, ma’am?’ asked Little Dorrit, sure you are well?’looking timidly about; ‘can I get it?’‘Oh yes, indeed!’‘You industrious little fairy,’ returned Flora, taking, in anothercup of tea, another of the doses prescribed by her medi-thorough good romantic disclosure. She started off at score,Flora put her feet upon the fender, and settled herself for acal man, ‘there’s not the slightest hurry and it’s better that we tossing her head, sighing in the most demonstrative manner,should begin by being confidential about our mutual friend— making a great deal of use of her eyebrows, and occasionally,too cold a word for me at least I don’t mean that, very proper but not often, glancing at the quiet face that bent over the work.expression mutual friend—than become through mere formalitiesnot you but me like the Spartan boy with the fox biting doubt you know already not only because I have already‘You must know my dear,’ said Flora, ‘but that I have nohim, which I hope you’ll excuse my bringing up for of all the thrown it out in a general way but because I feel I carry ittiresome boys that will go tumbling into every sort of company stamped in burning what’s his names upon my brow that beforeI was introduced to the late Mr F. I had been engaged tothat boy’s the tiresomest.’Little Dorrit, her face very pale, sat down again to listen. Arthur Clennam—Mr Clennam in public where reserve is necessaryArthur here—we were all in all to one another it ‘Hadn’t I better work the while?’ she asked. ‘I can work andwas281

Charles Dickensthe morning of life it was bliss it was frenzy it was everything spirits his appetite was good he liked the cookery he consideredthe wine weak but palatable and all was well, we re-else of that sort in the highest degree, when rent asunder weturned to stone in which capacity Arthur went to China and I turned to the immediate neighbourhood of Number Thirty Littlebecame the statue bride of the late Mr F.’Gosling Street London Docks and settled down, ere we hadFlora, uttering these words in a deep voice, enjoyed herself yet fully detected the housemaid in selling the feathers out ofimmensely.the spare bed Gout flying upwards soared with Mr F. to anothersphere.’‘To paint,’ said she, ‘the emotions of that morning when allwas marble within and Mr F.’s Aunt followed in a glass-coach His relict, with a glance at his portrait, shook her head andwhich it stands to reason must have been in shameful repair or wiped her eyes.it never could have broken down two streets from the house ‘I revere the memory of Mr F. as an estimable man andand Mr F.’s Aunt brought home like the fifth of November in a most indulgent husband, only necessary to mention Asparagusrush-bottomed chair I will not attempt, suffice it to say that the and it appeared or to hint at any little delicate thing to drinkhollow form of breakfast took place in the dining-room downstairsthat papa partaking too freely of pickled salmon was ill was comfort, I returned to papa’s roof and lived secluded ifand it came like magic in a pint bottle it was not ecstasy but itfor weeks and that Mr F. and myself went upon a continental not happy during some years until one day papa came smoothlytour to Calais where the people fought for us on the pier until blundering in and said that Arthur Clennam awaited me below,they separated us though not for ever that was not yet to be.’ I went below and found him ask me not what I found himThe statue bride, hardly pausing for breath, went on, with except that he was still unmarried still unchanged!’the greatest complacency, in a rambling manner sometimes incidentalto flesh and blood.might have stopped other fingers than the nimble fingers thatThe dark mystery with which Flora now enshrouded herself‘I will draw a veil over that dreamy life, Mr F. was in good worked near her.282

Little Dorrit – Book OneThey worked on without pause, and the busy head bent changing to her own natural kind-hearted manner, and gainingover them watching the stitches.greatly by the change. ‘Don’t work to-day. I am sure you are‘Ask me not,’ said Flora, ‘if I love him still or if he still loves not well I am sure you are not strong.’me or what the end is to be or when, we are surrounded by ‘It is only that I feel a little overcome by your kindness, andwatchful eyes and it may be that we are destined to pine asunderit may be never more to be reunited not a word not a and loved so long.’by Mr Clennam’s kindness in confiding me to one he has knownbreath not a look to betray us all must be secret as the tomb ‘Well really my dear,’ said Flora, who had a decided tendencyto be always honest when she gave herself time to thinkwonder not therefore that even if I should seem comparativelycold to Arthur or Arthur should seem comparatively cold to about it, ‘it’s as well to leave that alone now, for I couldn’tme we have fatal reasons it is enough if we understand them undertake to say after all, but it doesn’t signify lie down a little!’hush!’‘I have always been strong enough to do what I want to do,All of which Flora said with so much headlong vehemence and I shall be quite well directly,’ returned Little Dorrit, with aas if she really believed it. There is not much doubt that when faint smile. ‘You have overpowered me with gratitude, that’sshe worked herself into full mermaid condition, she did actuallybelieve whatever she said in it.myself.’all. If I keep near the window for a moment I shall be quite‘Hush!’ repeated Flora, ‘I have now told you all, confidence Flora opened a window, sat her in a chair by it, and consideratelyretired to her former place. It was a windy day, and theis established between us hush, for Arthur’s sake I will alwaysbe a friend to you my dear girl and in Arthur’s name you may air stirring on Little Dorrit’s face soon brightened it. In a veryalways rely upon me.’few minutes she returned to her basket of work, and her nimbleThe nimble fingers laid aside the work, and the little figure fingers were as nimble as ever.rose and kissed her hand. ‘You are very cold,’ said Flora, Quietly pursuing her task, she asked Flora if Mr Clennam283

Charles Dickenshad told her where she lived? When Flora replied in the negative,Little Dorrit said that she understood why he had been so Pancks. The demeanour of that gentleman at first suggested towas there; but her constraint was greatly increased by Mrdelicate, but that she felt sure he would approve of her confidingher secret to Flora, and that she would therefore do so he look at her, and so frequently did he glance at the littleher mind that he might be a taker of likenesses, so intently didnow with Flora’s permission. Receiving an encouraging answer,she condensed the narrative of her life into a few scanty however, and that he talked about business only, she began tonote-book by his side. Observing that he made no sketch,words about herself and a glowing eulogy upon her father; and have suspicions that he represented some creditor of herFlora took it all in with a natural tenderness that quite understoodit, and in which there was no incoherence.volume. Regarded from this point of view Mr Pancks’s puffingsfather’s, the balance due to whom was noted in that pocketWhen dinner-time came, Flora drew the arm of her new expressed injury and impatience, and each of his louder snortscharge through hers, and led her down-stairs, and presented became a demand for payment.her to the Patriarch and Mr Pancks, who were already in the But here again she was undeceived by anomalous and incongruousconduct on the part of Mr Pancks himself. She haddining-room waiting to begin. (Mr F.’s Aunt was, for the time,laid up in ordinary in her chamber.) By those gentlemen she left the table half an hour, and was at work alone. Flora hadwas received according to their characters; the Patriarch appearingto do her some inestimable service in saying that he retirement a smell of something to drink had broken out in the‘gone to lie down’ in the next room, concurrently with whichwas glad to see her, glad to see her; and Mr Pancks blowing house. The Patriarch was fast asleep, with his philanthropicoff his favourite sound as a salute.mouth open under a yellow pocket-handkerchief in the dining-room.At this quiet time, Mr Pancks softly appeared be-In that new presence she would have been bashful enoughunder any circumstances, and particularly under Flora’s insistingon her drinking a glass of wine and eating of the best that ‘Find it a little dull, Miss Dorrit?’ inquired Pancks in a lowfore her, urbanely nodding.voice.284

Little Dorrit – Book One‘No, thank you, sir,’ said Little Dorrit.Hallo!’ looking into the lines. ‘What’s this with bars? It’s a‘Busy, I see,’ observed Mr Pancks, stealing into the room College! And what’s this with a grey gown and a black velvetby inches. ‘What are those now, Miss Dorrit?’cap? it’s a father! And what’s this with a clarionet? It’s an‘Handkerchiefs.’uncle! And what’s this in dancing-shoes? It’s a sister! And‘Are they, though!’ said Pancks. ‘I shouldn’t have thought what’s this straggling about in an idle sort of a way? It’s ait.’ Not in the least looking at them, but looking at Little Dorrit. brother! And what’s this thinking for ‘em all? Why, this is you,‘Perhaps you wonder who I am. Shall I tell you? I am a fortune-teller.’into his face, and she thought that although his were sharpMiss Dorrit!’ Her eyes met his as she looked up wonderinglyLittle Dorrit now began to think he was mad.eyes, he was a brighter and gentler-looking man than she had‘I belong body and soul to my proprietor,’ said Pancks; supposed at dinner. His eyes were on her hand again directly,‘you saw my proprietor having his dinner below. But I do a and her opportunity of confirming or correcting the impressionlittle in the other way, sometimes; privately, very privately, Miss was gone.Dorrit.’‘Now, the deuce is in it,’ muttered Pancks, tracing out a lineLittle Dorrit looked at him doubtfully, and not without alarm. in her hand with his clumsy finger, ‘if this isn’t me in the corner‘I wish you’d show me the palm of your hand,’ said Pancks. here! What do I want here? What’s behind me?’‘I should like to have a look at it. Don’t let me be troublesome.’He was so far troublesome that he was not at all wanted wrist, and affected to look at the back of the hand for whatHe carried his finger slowly down to the wrist, and round thethere, but she laid her work in her lap for a moment, and held was behind him.out her left hand with her thimble on it.‘Is it any harm?’ asked Little Dorrit, smiling.‘Years of toil, eh?’ said Pancks, softly, touching it with his ‘Deuce a bit!’ said Pancks. ‘What do you think it’s worth?’blunt forefinger. ‘But what else are we made for? Nothing. ‘I ought to ask you that. I am not the fortune-teller.’285

Charles Dickens‘True,’ said Pancks. ‘What’s it worth? You shall live to see, told you so much of your fortune yet, Miss Dorrit, as to tellMiss Dorrit.’you what’s behind me on that little hand. I have told you youReleasing the hand by slow degrees, he drew all his fingers shall live to see. Is it agreed, Miss Dorrit?’through his prongs of hair, so that they stood up in their most ‘Agreed that I—am—to—’portentous manner; and repeated slowly, ‘Remember what I ‘To take no notice of me away from here, unless I take onsay, Miss Dorrit. You shall live to see.’first. Not to mind me when I come and go. It’s very easy. I amShe could not help showing that she was much surprised, if no loss, I am not handsome, I am not good company, I amit were only by his knowing so much about her.only my proprietors grubber. You need do no more than think,‘Ah! That’s it!’ said Pancks, pointing at her. ‘Miss Dorrit, “Ah! Pancks the gipsy at his fortune-telling—he’ll tell the restnot that, ever!’of my fortune one day—I shall live to know it.” Is it agreed,More surprised than before, and a little more frightened, she Miss Dorrit?’looked to him for an explanation of his last words.‘Ye-es,’ faltered Little Dorrit, whom he greatly confused, ‘I‘Not that,’ said Pancks, making, with great seriousness, an suppose so, while you do no harm.’imitation of a surprised look and manner that appeared to be ‘Good!’ Mr Pancks glanced at the wall of the adjoining room,unintentionally grotesque. ‘Don’t do that. Never on seeing me, and stooped forward. ‘Honest creature, woman of capitalno matter when, no matter where. I am nobody. Don’t take on points, but heedless and a loose talker, Miss Dorrit.’ With thatto mind me. Don’t mention me. Take no notice. Will you agree, he rubbed his hands as if the interview had been very satisfactoryto him, panted away to the door, and urbanely noddedMiss Dorrit?’‘I hardly know what to say,’ returned Little Dorrit, quite himself out again.astounded. ‘Why?’If Little Dorrit were beyond measure perplexed by this curiousconduct on the part of her new acquaintance, and by ‘Because I am a fortune-teller. Pancks the gipsy. I haven’tfind-286

Little Dorrit – Book Oneing herself involved in this singular treaty, her perplexity was witness of in his faithful visits, made an impression on Littlenot diminished by ensuing circumstances. Besides that Mr Dorrit only second to that produced by the phenomena themselves.They seemed to gag and bind him. He could only stare,Pancks took every opportunity afforded him in Mr Casby’shouse of significantly glancing at her and snorting at her—which and sometimes weakly mutter that it wouldn’t be believed downwas not much, after what he had done already—he began to Bleeding Heart Yard that this was Pancks; but he never said apervade her daily life. She saw him in the street, constantly. word more, or made a sign more, even to Little Dorrit.When she went to Mr Casby’s, he was always there. When Mr Pancks crowned his mysteries by making himself acquaintedwith Tip in some unknown manner, and taking a Sun-she went to Mrs Clennam’s, he came there on any pretence,as if to keep her in his sight. A week had not gone by, when day saunter into the College on that gentleman’s arm. Throughouthe never took any notice of Little Dorrit, save once orshe found him to her astonishment in the Lodge one night,conversing with the turnkey on duty, and to all appearance twice when he happened to come close to her and there wasone of his familiar companions. Her next surprise was to find no one very near; on which occasions, he said in passing, withhim equally at his ease within the prison; to hear of his presentinghimself among the visitors at her father’s Sunday levee; to gipsy—fortune-telling.’a friendly look and a puff of encouragement, ‘Pancks thesee him arm in arm with a Collegiate friend about the yard; to Little Dorrit worked and strove as usual, wondering at alllearn, from Fame, that he had greatly distinguished himself one this, but keeping her wonder, as she had from her earliest yearsevening at the social club that held its meetings in the Snuggery, kept many heavier loads, in her own breast. A change hadby addressing a speech to the members of the institution, singinga song, and treating the company to five gallons of ale— found her something more retiring than the day before. To passstolen, and was stealing yet, over the patient heart. Every dayreport madly added a bushel of shrimps. The effect on Mr in and out of the prison unnoticed, and elsewhere to be overlookedand forgotten, were, for herself, her chief Plornish of such of these phenomena as he became an eye-desires.287

Charles DickensTo her own room too, strangely assorted room for her delicateyouth and character, she was glad to retreat as often as teries, when she was seated at her window, and heard Maggy’sInsomuch, that on a certain afternoon during the Pancks mys-she could without desertion of any duty. There were afternoon well-known step coming up the stairs, she was very much disturbedby the apprehension of being summoned away. Astimes when she was unemployed, when visitors dropped in toplay a hand at cards with her father, when she could be spared Maggy’s step came higher up and nearer, she trembled andand was better away. Then she would flit along the yard, climb faltered; and it was as much as she could do to speak, whenthe scores of stairs that led to her room, and take her seat at Maggy at length appeared.the window. Many combinations did those spikes upon the ‘Please, Little Mother,’ said Maggy, panting for breath, ‘youwall assume, many light shapes did the strong iron weave itself must come down and see him. He’s here.’into, many golden touches fell upon the rust, while Little Dorrit ‘Who, Maggy?’sat there musing. New zig-zags sprung into the cruel pattern ‘Who, o’ course Mr Clennam. He’s in your father’s room,sometimes, when she saw it through a burst of tears; but beautifiedor hardened still, always over it and under it and through it’s only me.’and he says to me, Maggy, will you be so kind and go and sayit, she was fain to look in her solitude, seeing everything with ‘I am not very well, Maggy. I had better not go. I am goingthat ineffaceable brand.to lie down. See! I lie down now, to ease my head. Say, withA garret, and a Marshalsea garret without compromise, was my grateful regard, that you left me so, or I would have come.’Little Dorrit’s room. Beautifully kept, it was ugly in itself, and ‘Well, it an’t very polite though, Little Mother,’ said the staringMaggy, ‘to turn your face away, neither!’had little but cleanliness and air to set it off; for what embellishmentshe had ever been able to buy, had gone to her father’s Maggy was very susceptible to personal slights, and veryroom. Howbeit, for this poor place she showed an increasing ingenious in inventing them. ‘Putting both your hands aforelove; and to sit in it alone became her favourite rest. your face too!’ she went on. ‘If you can’t bear the looks of a288

Little Dorrit – Book Onepoor thing, it would be better to tell her so at once, and not go ‘I think I have, a little, Maggy.’and shut her out like that, hurting her feelings and breaking her ‘A little! Oh!’heart at ten year old, poor thing!’‘But it’s all over now—all over for good, Maggy. And my‘It’s to ease my head, Maggy.’head is much better and cooler, and I am quite comfortable. I‘Well, and if you cry to ease your head, Little Mother, let me am very glad I did not go down.’cry too. Don’t go and have all the crying to yourself,’ expostulatedMaggy, ‘that an’t not being greedy.’ And immediately smoothed her hair, and bathed her forehead and eyes withHer great staring child tenderly embraced her; and havingbegan to blubber.cold water (offices in which her awkward hands became skilful),hugged her again, exulted in her brighter looks, and sta-It was with some difficulty that she could be induced to goback with the excuse; but the promise of being told a story— tioned her in her chair by the window. Over against this chair,of old her great delight—on condition that she concentrated Maggy, with apoplectic exertions that were not at all required,her faculties upon the errand and left her little mistress to herselffor an hour longer, combined with a misgiving on Maggy’s sions, sat down upon it, hugged her own knees, and said, withdragged the box which was her seat on story-telling occa-part that she had left her good temper at the bottom of the a voracious appetite for stories, and with widely-opened eyes:staircase, prevailed. So away she went, muttering her messageall the way to keep it in her mind, and, at the appointed ‘What shall it be about, Maggy?’‘Now, Little Mother, let’s have a good ‘un!’time, came back.‘Oh, let’s have a princess,’ said Maggy, ‘and let her be a‘He was very sorry, I can tell you,’ she announced, ‘and wanted reg’lar one. Beyond all belief, you know!’to send a doctor. And he’s coming again to-morrow he is and I Little Dorrit considered for a moment; and with a rather saddon’t think he’ll have a good sleep to-night along o’ hearing about smile upon her face, which was flushed by the sunset, began:your head, Little Mother. Oh my! Ain’t you been a-crying!’ ‘Maggy, there was once upon a time a fine King, and he had289

Charles Dickenseverything he could wish for, and a great deal more. He had ‘No, not an old woman. Quite a young one.’gold and silver, diamonds and rubies, riches of every kind. He ‘I wonder she warn’t afraid,’ said Maggy. ‘Go on, please.’had palaces, and he had—’‘The Princess passed the cottage nearly every day, and whenevershe went by in her beautiful carriage, she saw the poor‘Hospitals,’ interposed Maggy, still nursing her knees. ‘Lethim have hospitals, because they’re so comfortable. Hospitals tiny woman spinning at her wheel, and she looked at the tinywith lots of Chicking.’woman, and the tiny woman looked at her. So, one day she‘Yes, he had plenty of them, and he had plenty of everything.’out and walked on and peeped in at the door, and there, asstopped the coachman a little way from the cottage, and got‘Plenty of baked potatoes, for instance?’ said Maggy. usual, was the tiny woman spinning at her wheel, and she looked‘Plenty of everything.’at the Princess, and the Princess looked at her.’‘Lor!’ chuckled Maggy, giving her knees a hug. ‘Wasn’t it ‘Like trying to stare one another out,’ said Maggy. ‘Pleaseprime!’go on, Little Mother.’‘This King had a daughter, who was the wisest and most ‘The Princess was such a wonderful Princess that she hadbeautiful Princess that ever was seen. When she was a child the power of knowing secrets, and she said to the tiny woman,she understood all her lessons before her masters taught them Why do you keep it there? This showed her directly that theto her; and when she was grown up, she was the wonder of Princess knew why she lived all alone by herself spinning atthe world. Now, near the Palace where this Princess lived, her wheel, and she kneeled down at the Princess’s feet, andthere was a cottage in which there was a poor little tiny woman, asked her never to betray her. So the Princess said, I neverwho lived all alone by herself.’will betray you. Let me see it. So the tiny woman closed the‘An old woman,’ said Maggy, with an unctuous smack of shutter of the cottage window and fastened the door, and tremblingfrom head to foot for fear that any one should her lips.suspect290

Little Dorrit – Book Oneher, opened a very secret place and showed the Princess a time came, it would sink quietly into her own grave, and wouldshadow.’never be found.’‘Lor!’ said Maggy. ‘It was the shadow of Some one who ‘Well, to be sure!’ said Maggy. ‘Go on, please.’had gone by long before: of Some one who had gone on far ‘The Princess was very much astonished to hear this, as youaway quite out of reach, never, never to come back. It was may suppose, Maggy.’ (‘And well she might be,’ said Maggy.)bright to look at; and when the tiny woman showed it to the ‘So she resolved to watch the tiny woman, and see whatPrincess, she was proud of it with all her heart, as a great, came of it. Every day she drove in her beautiful carriage by thegreat treasure. When the Princess had considered it a little cottage-door, and there she saw the tiny woman always alonewhile, she said to the tiny woman, And you keep watch over by herself spinning at her wheel, and she looked at the tinythis every day? And she cast down her eyes, and whispered, woman, and the tiny woman looked at her. At last one day theYes. Then the Princess said, Remind me why. To which the wheel was still, and the tiny woman was not to be seen. Whenother replied, that no one so good and kind had ever passed the Princess made inquiries why the wheel had stopped, andthat way, and that was why in the beginning. She said, too, that where the tiny woman was, she was informed that the wheelnobody missed it, that nobody was the worse for it, that Some had stopped because there was nobody to turn it, the tinyone had gone on, to those who were expecting him—’ woman being dead.’‘Some one was a man then?’ interposed Maggy.(‘They ought to have took her to the Hospital,’ said Maggy,Little Dorrit timidly said Yes, she believed so; and resumed: and then she’d have got over it.’)‘—Had gone on to those who were expecting him, and that ‘The Princess, after crying a very little for the loss of the tinythis remembrance was stolen or kept back from nobody. The woman, dried her eyes and got out of her carriage at the placePrincess made answer, Ah! But when the cottager died it would where she had stopped it before, and went to the cottage andbe discovered there. The tiny woman told her No; when that peeped in at the door. There was nobody to look at her now,291

Charles Dickensand nobody for her to look at, so she went in at once to search at the window and was leaning on her shoulder. ‘I see himfor the treasured shadow. But there was no sign of it to be come in and out often.’found anywhere; and then she knew that the tiny woman had ‘I have heard him called a fortune-teller,’ said Little Dorrit.told her the truth, and that it would never give anybody any ‘But I doubt if he could tell many people even their past ortrouble, and that it had sunk quietly into her own grave, and present fortunes.’that she and it were at rest together.‘Couldn’t have told the Princess hers?’ said Maggy.‘That’s all, Maggy.’Little Dorrit, looking musingly down into the dark valley ofThe sunset flush was so bright on Little Dorrit’s face when the prison, shook her head.she came thus to the end of her story, that she interposed her ‘Nor the tiny woman hers?’ said Maggy.hand to shade it.‘No,’ said Little Dorrit, with the sunset very bright upon her.‘Had she got to be old?’ Maggy asked.‘But let us come away from the window.’‘The tiny woman?’ ‘Ah!’‘I don’t know,’ said Little Dorrit. ‘But it would have beenCHAPTER 25 Conspirators and Othersjust the same if she had been ever so old.’‘Would it raly!’ said Maggy. ‘Well, I suppose it wouldTHE PRIVATE RESIDENCE of Mr Pancks was in Pentonville, wherethough.’ And sat staring and ruminating.he lodged on the second-floor of a professional gentleman inShe sat so long with her eyes wide open, that at length Littlean extremely small way, who had an inner-door within the streetDorrit, to entice her from her box, rose and looked out ofdoor, poised on a spring and starting open with a click like awindow. As she glanced down into the yard, she saw Panckstrap; and who wrote up in the fan-light, Rugg, General Agent,come in and leer up with the corner of his eye as he went by.Accountant, Debts Recovered.‘Who’s he, Little Mother?’ said Maggy. She had joined herThis scroll, majestic in its severe simplicity, illuminated a little292

Little Dorrit – Book Oneslip of front garden abutting on the thirsty high-road, where a marriage. The baker having been, by the counsel for Miss Rugg,few of the dustiest of leaves hung their dismal heads and led a witheringly denounced on that occasion up to the full amountlife of choking. A professor of writing occupied the first-floor, of twenty guineas, at the rate of about eighteen-pence an epithet,and having been cast in corresponding damages, still suf-and enlivened the garden railings with glass-cases containingchoice examples of what his pupils had been before six lessonsand while the whole of his young family shook the table, But Miss Rugg, environed by the majesty of the law, and havferedoccasional persecution from the youth of Pentonville.and what they had become after six lessons when the young ing her damages invested in the public securities, was regardedfamily was under restraint. The tenancy of Mr Pancks was with consideration.limited to one airy bedroom; he covenanting and agreeing with In the society of Mr Rugg, who had a round white visage, asMr Rugg his landlord, that in consideration of a certain scale if all his blushes had been drawn out of him long ago, and whoof payments accurately defined, and on certain verbal notice had a ragged yellow head like a worn-out hearth broom; andduly given, he should be at liberty to elect to share the Sunday in the society of Miss Rugg, who had little nankeen spots, likebreakfast, dinner, tea, or supper, or each or any or all of those shirt buttons, all over her face, and whose own yellow tressesrepasts or meals of Mr and Miss Rugg (his daughter) in the were rather scrubby than luxuriant; Mr Pancks had usuallyback-parlour.dined on Sundays for some few years, and had twice a week,Miss Rugg was a lady of a little property which she had or so, enjoyed an evening collation of bread, Dutch cheese,acquired, together with much distinction in the neighbourhood, and porter. Mr Pancks was one of the very few marriageableby having her heart severely lacerated and her feelings mangled men for whom Miss Rugg had no terrors, the argument withby a middle-aged baker resident in the vicinity, against whom which he reassured himself being twofold; that is to say, firstly,she had, by the agency of Mr Rugg, found it necessary to ‘that it wouldn’t do twice,’ and secondly, ‘that he wasn’t worthproceed at law to recover damages for a breach of promise of it.’ Fortified within this double armour, Mr Pancks snorted at293

Charles DickensMiss Rugg on easy terms.and tempt him to undertake mysterious missions; on which heUp to this time, Mr Pancks had transacted little or no businessat his quarters in Pentonville, except in the sleeping line; two or three days together. The prudent Mrs Chivery, whobegan to disappear at uncertain intervals for as long a space asbut now that he had become a fortune-teller, he was often wondered greatly at this change, would have protested againstcloseted after midnight with Mr Rugg in his little front-parlour it as detrimental to the Highland typification on the doorpostoffice, and even after those untimely hours, burnt tallow in his but for two forcible reasons; one, that her John was roused tobed-room. Though his duties as his proprietor’s grubber were take strong interest in the business which these starts werein no wise lessened; and though that service bore no greater supposed to advance—and this she held to be good for hisresemblance to a bed of roses than was to be discovered in its drooping spirits; the other, that Mr Pancks confidentially agreedmany thorns; some new branch of industry made a constant to pay her, for the occupation of her son’s time, at the handsomerate of seven and sixpence per day. The proposal origi-demand upon him. When he cast off the Patriarch at night, itwas only to take an anonymous craft in tow, and labour away nated with himself, and was couched in the pithy terms, ‘Ifafresh in other waters.your John is weak enough, ma’am, not to take it, that is noThe advance from a personal acquaintance with the elder reason why you should be, don’t you see? So, quite betweenMr Chivery to an introduction to his amiable wife and disconsolateson, may have been easy; but easy or not, Mr Pancks What Mr Chivery thought of these things, or how much orourselves, ma’am, business being business, here it is!’soon made it. He nestled in the bosom of the tobacco business how little he knew about them, was never gathered from himself.It has been already remarked that he was a man of fewwithin a week or two after his first appearance in the College,and particularly addressed himself to the cultivation of a good words; and it may be here observed that he had imbibed aunderstanding with Young John. In this endeavour he so prosperedas to lure that pining shepherd forth from the groves, up as carefully as he locked up the Marshalsea debtors.professional habit of locking everything up. He locked himselfEven294

Little Dorrit – Book Onehis custom of bolting his meals may have been a part of an and Miss Rugg with her own hands stuffed a leg of muttonuniform whole; but there is no question, that, as to all other with oysters on the occasion, and sent it to the baker’s—notpurposes, he kept his mouth as he kept the Marshalsea door. THE baker’s but an opposition establishment. Provision ofHe never opened it without occasion. When it was necessary oranges, apples, and nuts was also made. And rum was broughtto let anything out, he opened it a little way, held it open just as home by Mr Pancks on Saturday night, to gladden the visitor’slong as sufficed for the purpose, and locked it again. heart. The store of creature comforts was not the chief part ofEven as he would be sparing of his trouble at the Marshalsea the visitor’s reception. Its special feature was a foregone familyconfidence and sympathy. When Young John appeared atdoor, and would keep a visitor who wanted to go out, waitingfor a few moments if he saw another visitor coming down the half-past one without the ivory hand and waistcoat of goldenyard, so that one turn of the key should suffice for both, similarlyhe would often reserve a remark if he perceived another Pancks presented him to the yellow-haired Ruggs as the youngsprigs, the sun shorn of his beams by disastrous clouds, Mron its way to his lips, and would deliver himself of the two man he had so often mentioned who loved Miss Dorrit. ‘I amtogether. As to any key to his inner knowledge being to be glad,’ said Mr Rugg, challenging him specially in that character,‘to have the distinguished gratification of making your ac-found in his face, the Marshalsea key was as legible as anindex to the individual characters and histories upon which it quaintance, sir. Your feelings do you honour. You are young;was turned.may you never outlive your feelings! If I was to outlive my ownThat Mr Pancks should be moved to invite any one to dinnerat Pentonville, was an unprecedented fact in his calendar. and was considered to possess a remarkably good address;feelings, sir,’ said Mr Rugg, who was a man of many words,But he invited Young John to dinner, and even brought him ‘if I was to outlive my own feelings, I’d leave fifty pound in mywithin range of the dangerous (because expensive) fascinationsof Miss Rugg. The banquet was appointed for a Sunday, Miss Rugg heaved awill to the man who would put me out of existence.’sigh.295

Charles Dickens‘My daughter, sir,’ said Mr Rugg. ‘Anastatia, you are no man that I should like to put in the witness-box, to humanisestranger to the state of this young man’s affections. My daughterhas had her trials, sir’—Mr Rugg might have used the word your appetite with you, and intend to play a good knife andthe minds of the legal profession. I hope you have broughtmore pointedly in the singular number—’and she can feel for fork?’you.’‘Thank you, sir,’ returned Young John, ‘I don’t eat much atYoung John, almost overwhelmed by the touching nature of present.’this greeting, professed himself to that effect.Mr Rugg drew him a little apart. ‘My daughter’s case, sir,’‘What I envy you, sir, is,’ said Mr Rugg, ‘allow me to take said he, ‘at the time when, in vindication of her outraged feelingsand her sex, she became the plaintiff in Rugg and Bawkins.your hat—we are rather short of pegs—I’ll put it in the corner,nobody will tread on it there—What I envy you, sir, is the I suppose I could have put it in evidence, Mr Chivery, if I hadluxury of your own feelings. I belong to a profession in which thought it worth my while, that the amount of solid sustenancethat luxury is sometimes denied us.’my daughter consumed at that period did not exceed ten ouncesYoung John replied, with acknowledgments, that he only per week.’ ‘I think I go a little beyond that, sir,’ returned thehoped he did what was right, and what showed how entirely other, hesitating, as if he confessed it with some shame.he was devoted to Miss Dorrit. He wished to be unselfish; and ‘But in your case there’s no fiend in human form,’ said Mrhe hoped he was. He wished to do anything as laid in his power Rugg, with argumentative smile and action of hand. ‘Observe,to serve Miss Dorrit, altogether putting himself out of sight; Mr Chivery!and he hoped he did. It was but little that he could do, but he No fiend in human form!’ ‘No, sir, certainly,’ Young Johnhoped he did it.added with simplicity, ‘I should be very sorry if there was.’‘Sir,’ said Mr Rugg, taking him by the hand, ‘you are a young ‘The sentiment,’ said Mr Rugg, ‘is what I should have expectedfrom your known principles. It would affect my man that it does one good to come across. You are a youngdaugh-296

Little Dorrit – Book Oneter greatly, sir, if she heard it. As I perceive the mutton, I am Mr Pancks, who supported the character of chief conspirator,glad she didn’t hear it. Mr Pancks, on this occasion, pray face had completed his extracts, he looked them over, correctedme. My dear, face Mr Chivery. For what we are going to them, put up his note-book, and held them like a hand at cards.receive, may we (and Miss Dorrit) be truly thankful!’‘Now, there’s a churchyard in Bedfordshire,’ said Pancks.But for a grave waggishness in Mr Rugg’s manner of deliveringthis introduction to the feast, it might have appeared that ‘I’ll take it, sir,’ returned Mr Rugg, ‘if no one bids.’‘Who takes it?’Miss Dorrit was expected to be one of the company. Pancks Mr Pancks dealt him his card, and looked at his hand again.recognised the sally in his usual way, and took in his provender ‘Now, there’s an Enquiry in York,’ said Pancks. ‘Who takesin his usual way. Miss Rugg, perhaps making up some of her it?’arrears, likewise took very kindly to the mutton, and it rapidly ‘I’m not good for York,’ said Mr Rugg.diminished to the bone. A bread-and-butter pudding entirely ‘Then perhaps,’ pursued Pancks, ‘you’ll be so obliging, Johndisappeared, and a considerable amount of cheese and radishesvanished by the same means. Then came the dessert. and consulted his hand again.Chivery?’ Young John assenting, Pancks dealt him his card,Then also, and before the broaching of the rum and water, ‘There’s a Church in London; I may as well take that. And acame Mr Pancks’s note-book. The ensuing business proceedingswere brief but curious, and rather in the nature of a con-Two to me,’ repeated Pancks, breathing hard over his cards.Family Bible; I may as well take that, too. That’s two to me.spiracy. Mr Pancks looked over his note-book, which was ‘Here’s a Clerk at Durham for you, John, and an old seafaringnow getting full, studiously; and picked out little extracts, which gentleman at Dunstable for you, Mr Rugg. Two to me, was it?he wrote on separate slips of paper on the table; Mr Rugg, in Yes, two to me. Here’s a Stone; three to me. And a Still-bornthe meanwhile, looking at him with close attention, and Young Baby; four to me. And all, for the present, told.’ When he hadJohn losing his uncollected eye in mists of meditation. When thus disposed of his cards, all being done very quietly and in a297

Charles Dickenssuppressed tone, Mr Pancks puffed his way into his own Mr Rugg rose, and silently holding out his glass at arm’s lengthbreast-pocket and tugged out a canvas bag; from which, with above the centre of the table, by that gesture invited the othera sparing hand, he told forth money for travelling expenses in three to add theirs, and to unite in a general conspiratorialtwo little portions. ‘Cash goes out fast,’ he said anxiously, as clink. The ceremony was effective up to a certain point, andhe pushed a portion to each of his male companions, ‘very would have been wholly so throughout, if Miss Rugg, as shefast.’raised her glass to her lips in completion of it, had not happenedto look at Young John; when she was again so over-‘I can only assure you, Mr Pancks,’ said Young John, ‘thatI deeply regret my circumstances being such that I can’t afford come by the contemptible comicality of his disinterestednessto pay my own charges, or that it’s not advisable to allow me as to splutter some ambrosial drops of rum and water around,the time necessary for my doing the distances on foot; becausenothing would give me greater satisfaction than to walk Such was the dinner without precedent, given by Pancks atand withdraw in confusion.myself off my legs without fee or reward.’Pentonville; and such was the busy and strange life PancksThis young man’s disinterestedness appeared so very ludicrousin the eyes of Miss Rugg, that she was obliged to effect from his cares, and to recreate himself by going anywhere orled. The only waking moments at which he appeared to relaxa precipitate retirement from the company, and to sit upon the saying anything without a pervading object, were when hestairs until she had had her laugh out. Meanwhile Mr Pancks, showed a dawning interest in the lame foreigner with the stick,looking, not without some pity, at Young John, slowly and down Bleeding Heart Yard.thoughtfully twisted up his canvas bag as if he were wringing The foreigner, by name John Baptist Cavalletto—they calledits neck. The lady, returning as he restored it to his pocket, him Mr Baptist in the Yard—was such a chirping, easy, hopefullittle fellow, that his attraction for Pancks was probably inmixed rum and water for the party, not forgetting her fair self,and handed to every one his glass. When all were supplied, the force of contrast. Solitary, weak, and scantily acquainted298

Little Dorrit – Book Onewith the most necessary words of the only language in which not, and did not do things that England did. In this belief, to behe could communicate with the people about him, he went sure, they had long been carefully trained by the Barnacleswith the stream of his fortunes, in a brisk way that was new in and Stiltstalkings, who were always proclaiming to them, officially,that no country which failed to submit itself to those twothose parts. With little to eat, and less to drink, and nothing towear but what he wore upon him, or had brought tied up in large families could possibly hope to be under the protectionone of the smallest bundles that ever were seen, he put as of Providence; and who, when they believed it, disparagedbright a face upon it as if he were in the most flourishing circumstanceswhen he first hobbled up and down the Yard, hum-This, therefore, might be called a political position of thethem in private as the most prejudiced people under the sun.bly propitiating the general good-will with his white teeth. Bleeding Hearts; but they entertained other objections to havingforeigners in the Yard. They believed that foreigners wereIt was uphill work for a foreigner, lame or sound, to makehis way with the Bleeding Hearts. In the first place, they were always badly off; and though they were as ill off themselves asvaguely persuaded that every foreigner had a knife about him; they could desire to be, that did not diminish the force of thein the second, they held it to be a sound constitutional national objection. They believed that foreigners were dragooned andaxiom that he ought to go home to his own country. They never bayoneted; and though they certainly got their own skullsthought of inquiring how many of their own countrymen would promptly fractured if they showed any ill-humour, still it wasbe returned upon their hands from divers parts of the world, if with a blunt instrument, and that didn’t count. They believedthe principle were generally recognised; they considered it that foreigners were always immoral; and though they had anparticularly and peculiarly British. In the third place, they had a occasional assize at home, and now and then a divorce casenotion that it was a sort of Divine visitation upon a foreigner or so, that had nothing to do with it. They believed that foreignershad no independent spirit, as never being escorted tothat he was not an Englishman, and that all kinds of calamitieshappened to his country because it did things that England did the poll in droves by Lord Decimus Tite Barnacle, with colours299

Charles Dickensflying and the tune of Rule Britannia playing. Not to be tedious,they had many other beliefs of a similar kind.much celebrity for saying ‘Me ope you leg well soon,’ that itPlornish was particularly ingenious in this art; and attained soAgainst these obstacles, the lame foreigner with the stick was considered in the Yard but a very short remove indeedhad to make head as well as he could; not absolutely singlehanded,because Mr Arthur Clennam had recommended him that she had a natural call towards that language. As he be-from speaking Italian. Even Mrs Plornish herself began to thinkto the Plornishes (he lived at the top of the same house), but came more popular, household objects were brought into requisitionfor his instruction in a copious vocabulary; and when-still at heavy odds. However, the Bleeding Hearts were kindhearts; and when they saw the little fellow cheerily limping about ever he appeared in the Yard ladies would fly out at their doorswith a good-humoured face, doing no harm, drawing no knives, crying ‘Mr Baptist—tea-pot!’ ‘Mr Baptist—dust-pan!’ ‘Mrcommitting no outrageous immoralities, living chiefly on farinaceousand milk diet, and playing with Mrs Plornish’s children same time exhibiting those articles, and penetrating him with aBaptist—flour-dredger!’ ‘Mr Baptist—coffee-biggin!’ At theof an evening, they began to think that although he could never sense of the appalling difficulties of the Anglo-Saxon tongue.hope to be an Englishman, still it would be hard to visit that It was in this stage of his progress, and in about the thirdaffliction on his head. They began to accommodate themselves week of his occupation, that Mr Pancks’s fancy became attractedby the little man. Mounting to his attic, attended byto his level, calling him ‘Mr Baptist,’ but treating him like ababy, and laughing immoderately at his lively gestures and his Mrs Plornish as interpreter, he found Mr Baptist with no furniturebut his bed on the ground, a table, and a chair, carvingchildish English—more, because he didn’t mind it, and laughedtoo. They spoke to him in very loud voices as if he were stone with the aid of a few simple tools, in the blithest way possible.deaf. They constructed sentences, by way of teaching him the ‘Now, old chap,’ said Mr Pancks, ‘pay up!’language in its purity, such as were addressed by the savages He had his money ready, folded in a scrap of paper, andto Captain Cook, or by Friday to Robinson Crusoe. Mrs laughingly handed it in; then with a free action, threw out as300

Little Dorrit – Book Onemany fingers of his right hand as there were shillings, and made Pancks, ‘E please. Double good!’)a cut crosswise in the air for an odd sixpence.‘Can he live by that?’ asked Mr Pancks. ‘He can live on‘Oh!’ said Mr Pancks, watching him, wonderingly. ‘That’s very little, sir, and it is expected as he will be able, in time, toit, is it? You’re a quick customer. It’s all right. I didn’t expect make a very good living. Mr Clennam got it him to do, andto receive it, though.’gives him odd jobs besides in at the Works next door—makesMrs Plornish here interposed with great condescension, and ‘em for him, in short, when he knows he wants ‘em.’explained to Mr Baptist. ‘E please. E glad get money.’ ‘And what does he do with himself, now, when he ain’t hardThe little man smiled and nodded. His bright face seemed at it?’ said Mr Pancks.uncommonly attractive to Mr Pancks. ‘How’s he getting on in ‘Why, not much as yet, sir, on accounts I suppose of not beinghis limb?’ he asked Mrs Plornish.able to walk much; but he goes about the Yard, and he chats‘Oh, he’s a deal better, sir,’ said Mrs Plornish. ‘We expect without particular understanding or being understood, and he playsnext week he’ll be able to leave off his stick entirely.’ (The with the children, and he sits in the sun—he’ll sit down anywhere,opportunity being too favourable to be lost, Mrs Plornish displayedher great accomplishment by explaining with pardon-‘Laugh!’ echoed Mr Pancks. ‘He looks to me as if everyas if it was an arm-chair—and he’ll sing, and he’ll laugh!’able pride to Mr Baptist, ‘E ope you leg well soon.’) tooth in his head was always laughing.’‘He’s a merry fellow, too,’ said Mr Pancks, admiring him as ‘But whenever he gets to the top of the steps at t’other endif he were a mechanical toy. ‘How does he live?’of the Yard,’ said Mrs Plornish, ‘he’ll peep out in the curiousest‘Why, sir,’ rejoined Mrs Plornish, ‘he turns out to have quite way! So that some of us thinks he’s peeping out towards wherea power of carving them flowers that you see him at now.’ (Mr his own country is, and some of us thinks he’s looking forBaptist, watching their faces as they spoke, held up his work. somebody he don’t want to see, and some of us don’t knowMrs Plornish interpreted in her Italian manner, on behalf of Mr what to think.’301

Charles DickensMr Baptist seemed to have a general understanding of whatCHAPTER 26 Nobody’s State of Mindshe said; or perhaps his quickness caught and applied her slightaction of peeping. In any case he closed his eyes and tossedIF ARTHUR CLENNAM had not arrived at that wise decisionhis head with the air of a man who had sufficient reasons forfirmly to restrain himself from loving Pet, he would have livedwhat he did, and said in his own tongue, it didn’t matter. Altro!on in a state of much perplexity, involving difficult struggles‘What’s Altro?’ said Pancks.with his own heart. Not the least of these would have been a‘Hem! It’s a sort of a general kind of expression, sir,’ saidcontention, always waging within it, between a tendency toMrs Plornish.dislike Mr Henry Gowan, if not to regard him with positive‘Is it?’ said Pancks. ‘Why, then Altro to you, old chap. Goodrepugnance, and a whisper that the inclination was unworthy.afternoon. Altro!’A generous nature is not prone to strong aversions, and isMr Baptist in his vivacious way repeating the word severalslow to admit them even dispassionately; but when it finds illwillgaining upon it, and can discern between-whiles that itstimes, Mr Pancks in his duller way gave it him back once.From that time it became a frequent custom with Pancks theorigin is not dispassionate, such a nature becomes distressed.gipsy, as he went home jaded at night, to pass round by BleedingHeart Yard, go quietly up the stairs, look in at Mr Baptist’sTherefore Mr Henry Gowan would have clouded Clennam’smind, and would have been far oftener present to it than moredoor, and, finding him in his room, to say, ‘Hallo, old chap!agreeable persons and subjects but for the great prudence ofAltro!’ To which Mr Baptist would reply with innumerablehis decision aforesaid. As it was, Mr Gowan seemed transferredto Daniel Doyce’s mind; at all events, it so happenedbright nods and smiles, ‘Altro, signore, altro, altro, altro!’ Afterthis highly condensed conversation, Mr Pancks would gothat it usually fell to Mr Doyce’s turn, rather than to Clennam’s,his way with an appearance of being lightened and refreshed.to speak of him in the friendly conversations they held together.These were of frequent occurrence now; as the two partners302

Little Dorrit – Book Oneshared a portion of a roomy house in one of the grave oldfashionedCity streets, lying not far from the Bank of England, asked Clennam gaily.‘No, no company.’ ‘And how did you get on, you four?’by London Wall.‘There were five of us,’ returned his partner. ‘There wasMr Doyce had been to Twickenham to pass the day. Clennam What’s-his-name. He was there.’ ‘Who is he?’ said Clennam.had excused himself. Mr Doyce was just come home. He put ‘Mr Henry Gowan.’in his head at the door of Clennam’s sitting-room to say Good ‘Ah, to be sure!’ cried Clennam with unusual vivacity,night.‘Yes!—I forgot him.’‘Come in, come in!’ said Clennam.‘As I mentioned, you may remember,’ said Daniel Doyce,‘I saw you were reading,’ returned Doyce, as he entered, ‘he is always there on Sunday.’‘and thought you might not care to be disturbed.’‘Yes, yes,’ returned Clennam; ‘I remember now.’But for the notable resolution he had made, Clennam really Daniel Doyce, still wiping his forehead, ploddingly repeated.might not have known what he had been reading; really might ‘Yes. He was there, he was there. Oh yes, he was there. Andnot have had his eyes upon the book for an hour past, though his dog. He was there too.’it lay open before him. He shut it up, rather quickly.‘Miss Meagles is quite attached to—the—dog,’ observed‘Are they well?’ he asked.Clennam.‘Yes,’ said Doyce; ‘they are well. They are all well.’ ‘Quite so,’ assented his partner. ‘More attached to the dogDaniel had an old workmanlike habit of carrying his pockethandkerchiefin his hat. He took it out and wiped his forehead ‘You mean Mr—?’than I am to the man.’with it, slowly repeating, ‘They are all well. Miss Minnie lookingparticularly well, I thought.’There was a gap in the conversation, which Clennam de-‘I mean Mr Gowan, most decidedly,’ said Daniel Doyce.‘Any company at the cottage?’voted to winding up his watch.303

Charles Dickens‘Perhaps you are a little hasty in your judgment,’ he said. ‘Well, well!’ said Clennam, ‘we must be hopeful, and we‘Our judgments—I am supposing a general case—’ must at least try to be, if not generous (which, in this case, we‘Of course,’ said Doyce.have no opportunity of being), just. We will not disparage this‘Are so liable to be influenced by many considerations, which, gentleman, because he is successful in his addresses to thealmost without our knowing it, are unfair, that it is necessary to beautiful object of his ambition; and we will not question herkeep a guard upon them. For instance, Mr—’natural right to bestow her love on one whom she finds worthy‘Gowan,’ quietly said Doyce, upon whom the utterance of of it.’the name almost always devolved.‘Maybe, my friend,’ said Doyce. ‘Maybe also, that she is‘Is young and handsome, easy and quick, has talent, and has too young and petted, too confiding and inexperienced, to discriminatewell.’seen a good deal of various kinds of life. It might be difficult togive an unselfish reason for being prepossessed against him.’ ‘That,’ said Clennam, ‘would be far beyond our power of‘Not difficult for me, I think, Clennam,’ returned his partner. correction.’‘I see him bringing present anxiety, and, I fear, future sorrow, Daniel Doyce shook his head gravely, and rejoined, ‘I fearinto my old friend’s house. I see him wearing deeper lines into so.’my old friend’s face, the nearer he draws to, and the oftener ‘Therefore, in a word,’ said Clennam, ‘we should make uphe looks at, the face of his daughter. In short, I see him with a our minds that it is not worthy of us to say any ill of Mr Gowan.net about the pretty and affectionate creature whom he will It would be a poor thing to gratify a prejudice against him.never make happy.’ ‘We don’t know,’ said Clennam, almost And I resolve, for my part, not to depreciate him.’in the tone of a man in pain, ‘that he will not make her happy.’ ‘I am not quite so sure of myself, and therefore I reserve my‘We don’t know,’ returned his partner, ‘that the earth will privilege of objecting to him,’ returned the other. ‘But, if I amlast another hundred years, but we think it highly probable.’ not sure of myself, I am sure of you, Clennam, and I know304

Little Dorrit – Book Onewhat an upright man you are, and how much to be respected. distress upon the daughter through making her the cause of anGood night, MY friend and partner!’ He shook his hand in estrangement which he believed the father would regret, theresaying this, as if there had been something serious at the bottomof their conversation; and they separated.always keeping in view the greater equality of Mr Gowan’smight have been a little merit. In the modest truthfulness ofBy this time they had visited the family on several occasions, years and the greater attractions of his person and manner,and had always observed that even a passing allusion to Mr there might have been a little merit. In doing all this and muchHenry Gowan when he was not among them, brought back more, in a perfectly unaffected way and with a manful andthe cloud which had obscured Mr Meagles’s sunshine on the composed constancy, while the pain within him (peculiar as hismorning of the chance encounter at the Ferry. If Clennam had life and history) was very sharp, there might have been someever admitted the forbidden passion into his breast, this period quiet strength of character. But, after the resolution he hadmight have been a period of real trial; under the actual circumstances,doubtless it was nothing—nothing.such a state of mind was nobody’s—nobody’s.made, of course he could have no such merits as these; andEqually, if his heart had given entertainment to that prohibitedguest, his silent fighting of his way through the mental con-or somebody’s. He preserved his perfect serenity of mannerMr Gowan made it no concern of his whether it was nobody’sdition of this period might have been a little meritorious. In the on all occasions, as if the possibility of Clennam’s presumingconstant effort not to be betrayed into a new phase of the to have debated the great question were too distant and ridiculousto be imagined. He had always an affability to bestowbesetting sin of his experience, the pursuit of selfish objects bylow and small means, and to hold instead to some high principleof honour and generosity, there might have been a little (in the supposititious case of his not having taken that saga-on Clennam and an ease to treat him with, which might of itselfmerit. In the resolution not even to avoid Mr Meagles’s house, cious course) have been a very uncomfortable element in hislest, in the selfish sparing of himself, he should bring any slight state of mind.305

Charles Dickens‘I quite regret you were not with us yesterday,’ said Mr Henry ‘So so,’ rejoined the other. ‘To be candid with you, tolerably.I am not a great impostor. Buy one of my pictures, and IGowan, calling on Clennam the next morning. ‘We had anagreeable day up the river there.’assure you, in confidence, it will not be worth the money. BuySo he had heard, Arthur said.one of another man’s—any great professor who beats me‘From your partner?’ returned Henry Gowan. ‘What a dear hollow—and the chances are that the more you give him, theold fellow he is!’more he’ll impose upon you. They all do it.’ ‘All painters?’‘I have a great regard for him.’‘Painters, writers, patriots, all the rest who have stands in‘By Jove, he is the finest creature!’ said Gowan. ‘So fresh, the market. Give almost any man I know ten pounds, and heso green, trusts in such wonderful things!’will impose upon you to a corresponding extent; a thousandHere was one of the many little rough points that had a tendencyto grate on Clennam’s hearing. He put it aside by merely to a corresponding extent. So great the success, so great thepounds—to a corresponding extent; ten thousand pounds—repeating that he had a high regard for Mr Doyce.imposition. But what a capital world it is!’ cried Gowan with‘He is charming! To see him mooning along to that time of warm enthusiasm. ‘What a jolly, excellent, lovable world it is!’life, laying down nothing by the way and picking up nothing by ‘I had rather thought,’ said Clennam, ‘that the principle youthe way, is delightful. It warms a man. So unspoilt, so simple, mention was chiefly acted on by—’such a good soul! Upon my life Mr Clennam, one feels desperatelyworldly and wicked in comparison with such an inno-‘By the political gentlemen who condescend to keep the‘By the Barnacles?’ interrupted Gowan, laughing.cent creature. I speak for myself, let me add, without including Circumlocution Office.’you. You are genuine also.’‘Ah! Don’t be hard upon the Barnacles,’ said Gowan, laughingafresh, ‘they are darling fellows! Even poor little Clarence,‘Thank you for the compliment,’ said Clennam, ill at ease;‘you are too, I hope?’the born idiot of the family, is the most agreeable and most306

Little Dorrit – Book Oneendearing blockhead! And by Jupiter, with a kind of clevernessin him too that would astonish you!’dreary red-brick dungeon at Hampton Court,’ said Gowan.‘My mother lives in a most primitive manner down in that‘It would. Very much,’ said Clennam, drily.‘If you would make your own appointment, suggest your own‘And after all,’ cried Gowan, with that characteristic balancingof his which reduced everything in the wide world to be bored and she would be charmed. Really that’s the state ofday for permitting me to take you there to dinner, you wouldthe same light weight, ‘though I can’t deny that the CircumlocutionOffice may ultimately shipwreck everybody and every-What could Clennam say after this? His retiring characterthe case.’thing, still, that will probably not be in our time—and it’s a included a great deal that was simple in the best sense, becauseunpractised and unused; and in his simplicity and mod-school for gentlemen.’‘It’s a very dangerous, unsatisfactory, and expensive school esty, he could only say that he was happy to place himself atto the people who pay to keep the pupils there, I am afraid,’ Mr Gowan’s disposal. Accordingly he said it, and the daysaid Clennam, shaking his head.was fixed. And a dreaded day it was on his part, and a very‘Ah! You are a terrible fellow,’ returned Gowan, airily. ‘I unwelcome day when it came and they went down to HamptonCourt together.can understand how you have frightened that little donkey,Clarence, the most estimable of moon-calves (I really love The venerable inhabitants of that venerable pile seemed, inhim) nearly out of his wits. But enough of him, and of all the those times, to be encamped there like a sort of civilised gipsies.rest of them. I want to present you to my mother, Mr Clennam. There was a temporary air about their establishments, as ifPray do me the favour to give me the opportunity.’they were going away the moment they could get anythingIn nobody’s state of mind, there was nothing Clennam would better; there was also a dissatisfied air about themselves, as ifhave desired less, or would have been more at a loss how to they took it very ill that they had not already got somethingavoid.much better. Genteel blinds and makeshifts were more or less307

Charles Dickensobservable as soon as their doors were opened; screens not the consciousness that they had never got enough out of thehalf high enough, which made dining-rooms out of arched passages,and warded off obscure corners where footboys slept at admitted into the building. Under the latter great wrong, a fewpublic; the second, the consciousness that the public werenights with their heads among the knives and forks; curtains which suffered dreadfully—particularly on Sundays, when they hadcalled upon you to believe that they didn’t hide anything; panes for some time expected the earth to open and swallow theof glass which requested you not to see them; many objects of public up; but which desirable event had not yet occurred, invarious forms, feigning to have no connection with their guilty consequence of some reprehensible laxity in the arrangementssecret, a bed; disguised traps in walls, which were clearly coalcellars;affectations of no thoroughfares, which were evidently Mrs Gowan’s door was attended by a family servant of sev-of the Universe.doors to little kitchens. Mental reservations and artful mysteries eral years’ standing, who had his own crow to pluck with thegrew out of these things. Callers looking steadily into the eyes of public concerning a situation in the Post-Office which he hadtheir receivers, pretended not to smell cooking three feet off; been for some time expecting, and to which he was not yetpeople, confronting closets accidentally left open, pretended not appointed. He perfectly knew that the public could never haveto see bottles; visitors with their heads against a partition of thin got him in, but he grimly gratified himself with the idea that thecanvas, and a page and a young female at high words on the public kept him out. Under the influence of this injury (andother side, made believe to be sitting in a primeval silence. There perhaps of some little straitness and irregularity in the matter ofwas no end to the small social accommodation-bills of this naturewhich the gipsies of gentility were constantly drawing upon, mind; and now beholding in Clennam one of the degradedwages), he had grown neglectful of his person and morose inand accepting for, one another.body of his oppressors, received him with ignominy. MrsSome of these Bohemians were of an irritable temperament, Gowan, however, received him with condescension. He foundas constantly soured and vexed by two mental trials: the first, her a courtly old lady, formerly a Beauty, and still sufficiently308

Little Dorrit – Book Onewell-favoured to have dispensed with the powder on her nose him at a distance of a quarter of a century.and a certain impossible bloom under each eye. She was a He was now in retirement, and hence (in a ponderous whitelittle lofty with him; so was another old lady, dark-browed and cravat, like a stiff snow-drift) was so obliging as to shade thehigh-nosed, and who must have had something real about her dinner. There was a whisper of the pervading Bohemian characterin the nomadic nature of the service and its curious racesor she could not have existed, but it was certainly not her hairor her teeth or her figure or her complexion; so was a grey old of plates and dishes; but the noble Refrigerator, infinitely betterthan plate or porcelain, made it superb. He shaded thegentleman of dignified and sullen appearance; both of whomhad come to dinner. But, as they had all been in the British dinner, cooled the wines, chilled the gravy, and blighted theEmbassy way in sundry parts of the earth, and as a British vegetables.Embassy cannot better establish a character with the CircumlocutionOffice than by treating its compatriots with illimitable cally small footboy, who waited on the malevolent man whoThere was only one other person in the room: a microscopi-contempt (else it would become like the Embassies of other hadn’t got into the Post-Office. Even this youth, if his jacketcountries), Clennam felt that on the whole they let him off lightly. could have been unbuttoned and his heart laid bare, wouldThe dignified old gentleman turned out to be Lord Lancaster have been seen, as a distant adherent of the Barnacle family,Stiltstalking, who had been maintained by the Circumlocution already to aspire to a situation under Government.Office for many years as a representative of the Britannic Mrs Gowan with a gentle melancholy upon her, occasionedMajesty abroad.by her son’s being reduced to court the swinish public as aThis noble Refrigerator had iced several European courts in follower of the low Arts, instead of asserting his birthright andhis time, and had done it with such complete success that the putting a ring through its nose as an acknowledged Barnacle,very name of Englishman yet struck cold to the stomachs of headed the conversation at dinner on the evil days. It was thenforeigners who had the distinguished honour of remembering that Clennam learned for the first time what little pivots this309

Charles Dickensgreat world goes round upon.Barnacle or Stiltstalking, because there was nobody else but‘If John Barnacle,’ said Mrs Gowan, after the degeneracy mob. And this was the feature of the conversation which impressedClennam, as a man not used to it, very disagreeably:of the times had been fully ascertained, ‘if John Barnacle hadbut abandoned his most unfortunate idea of conciliating the making him doubt if it were quite right to sit there, silently hearingmob, all would have been well, and I think the country would a great nation narrowed to such little bounds. Remembering,have been preserved.’ The old lady with the high nose assented;but added that if Augustus Stiltstalking had in a general of that nation’s body or the life of its soul, the question washowever, that in the Parliamentary debates, whether on the lifeway ordered the cavalry out with instructions to charge, she usually all about and between John Barnacle, Augustusthought the country would have been preserved.Stiltstalking, William Barnacle and Tudor Stiltstalking, Tom,The noble Refrigerator assented; but added that if William Dick, or Harry Barnacle or Stiltstalking, and nobody else; heBarnacle and Tudor Stiltstalking, when they came over to one said nothing on the part of mob, bethinking himself that mobanother and formed their ever-memorable coalition, had boldly was used to it.muzzled the newspapers, and rendered it penal for any Editor-personto presume to discuss the conduct of any appointed playing off the three talkers against each other, and in seeingMr Henry Gowan seemed to have a malicious pleasure inauthority abroad or at home, he thought the country would Clennam startled by what they said. Having as supreme a contemptfor the class that had thrown him off as for the class thathave been preserved.It was agreed that the country (another word for the Barnaclesand Stiltstalkings) wanted preserving, but how it came that passed. His healthy state of mind appeared even to derive ahad not taken him on, he had no personal disquiet in anythingto want preserving was not so clear. It was only clear that the gratification from Clennam’s position of embarrassment and isolationamong the good company; and if Clennam had been inquestion was all about John Barnacle, Augustus Stiltstalking,William Barnacle and Tudor Stiltstalking, Tom, Dick, or Harry that condition with which Nobody was incessantly contending,310

Little Dorrit – Book Onehe would have suspected it, and would have struggled with the ‘First,’ said Mrs Gowan, ‘now, is she really pretty?’suspicion as a meanness, even while he sat at the table. In nobody’s difficulties, he would have found it very difficultIn the course of a couple of hours the noble Refrigerator, at to answer; very difficult indeed to smile, and say ‘Who?’no time less than a hundred years behind the period, got about ‘Oh! You know!’ she returned. ‘This flame of Henry’s. Thisfive centuries in arrears, and delivered solemn political oracles unfortunate fancy. There! If it is a point of honour that I shouldappropriate to that epoch. He finished by freezing a cup of tea originate the name—Miss Mickles—Miggles.’for his own drinking, and retiring at his lowest temperature. ‘Miss Meagles,’ said Clennam, ‘is very beautiful.’Then Mrs Gowan, who had been accustomed in her days of a ‘Men are so often mistaken on those points,’ returned Mrsvacant arm-chair beside her to which to summon state to retainher devoted slaves, one by one, for short audiences as feel anything but sure of it, even now; though it is something toGowan, shaking her head, ‘that I candidly confess to you Imarks of her especial favour, invited Clennam with a turn of have Henry corroborated with so much gravity and emphasis.her fan to approach the presence. He obeyed, and took the He picked the people up at Rome, I think?’tripod recently vacated by Lord Lancaster Stiltstalking. The phrase would have given nobody mortal offence.‘Mr Clennam,’ said Mrs Gowan, ‘apart from the happiness Clennam replied, ‘Excuse me, I doubt if I understand yourI have in becoming known to you, though in this odiously inconvenientplace—a mere barrack—there is a subject on which ‘Picked the people up,’ said Mrs Gowan, tapping the sticksexpression.’I am dying to speak to you. It is the subject in connection with of her closed fan (a large green one, which she used as a handscreen)on her little table. ‘Came upon them. Found them out.which my son first had, I believe, the pleasure of cultivatingyour acquaintance.’Stumbled up against them.’Clennam inclined his head, as a generally suitable reply to ‘The people?’what he did not yet quite understand.‘Yes. The Miggles people.’311

Charles Dickens‘I really cannot say,’ said Clennam, ‘where my friend Mr ‘Pardon me,’ returned Clennam, ‘but I am not in Mr HenryMeagles first presented Mr Henry Gowan to his daughter.’ Gowan’s confidence. I am far from being so well informed as‘I am pretty sure he picked her up at Rome; but never mind you suppose me to be. Your mistake makes my position awhere—somewhere. Now (this is entirely between ourselves), very delicate one. No word on this topic has ever passed betweenMr Henry Gowan and myself.’is she very plebeian?’‘Really, ma’am,’ returned Clennam, ‘I am so undoubtedly Mrs Gowan glanced at the other end of the room, where herplebeian myself, that I do not feel qualified to judge.’ son was playing ecarte on a sofa, with the old lady who was‘Very neat!’ said Mrs Gowan, coolly unfurling her screen. for a charge of cavalry.‘Very happy! From which I infer that you secretly think her ‘Not in his confidence? No,’ said Mrs Gowan. ‘No wordmanner equal to her looks?’has passed between you? No. That I can imagine. But thereClennam, after a moment’s stiffness, bowed.are unexpressed confidences, Mr Clennam; and as you have‘That’s comforting, and I hope you may be right. Did Henry been together intimately among these people, I cannot doubttell me you had travelled with them?’ ‘I travelled with my friend that a confidence of that sort exists in the present case. Perhapsyou have heard that I have suffered the keenest distressMr Meagles, and his wife and daughter, during some months.’(Nobody’s heart might have been wrung by the remembrance.) of mind from Henry’s having taken to a pursuit which—well!’‘Really comforting, because you must have had a large experienceof them. You see, Mr Clennam, this thing has been say, and some artists are, as artists, quite superior persons;shrugging her shoulders, ‘a very respectable pursuit, I daregoing on for a long time, and I find no improvement in it. Thereforeto have the opportunity of speaking to one so well in-and it is a pardonable weakness to feel a little—’still, we never yet in our family have gone beyond an Amateur,formed about it as yourself, is an immense relief to me. Quite a As Mrs Gowan broke off to heave a sigh, Clennam, howeverresolute to be magnanimous, could not keep down boon. Quite a blessing, I am sure.’the312

Little Dorrit – Book Onethought that there was mighty little danger of the family’s ever obstinacy, with her green fan between her face and the fire.going beyond an Amateur, even as it was.‘To secure Mr Henry Gowan?’‘Henry,’ the mother resumed, ‘is self-willed and resolute; The lady placidly assented.and as these people naturally strain every nerve to catch him, I ‘Now that is so far,’ said Arthur, ‘from being the case, that Ican entertain very little hope, Mr Clennam, that the thing will know Mr Meagles to be unhappy in this matter; and to havebe broken off. I apprehend the girl’s fortune will be very small; interposed all reasonable obstacles with the hope of putting anHenry might have done much better; there is scarcely anything end to it.’to compensate for the connection: still, he acts for himself; and Mrs Gowan shut up her great green fan, tapped him on theif I find no improvement within a short time, I see no other arm with it, and tapped her smiling lips. ‘Why, of course,’ saidcourse than to resign myself and make the best of these people. she. ‘Just what I mean.’I am infinitely obliged to you for what you have told me.’ As Arthur watched her face for some explanation of what sheshe shrugged her shoulders, Clennam stiffly bowed again. With did mean.an uneasy flush upon his face, and hesitation in his manner, he ‘Are you really serious, Mr Clennam? Don’t you see?’then said in a still lower tone than he had adopted yet: Arthur did not see; and said so.‘Mrs Gowan, I scarcely know how to acquit myself of what I ‘Why, don’t I know my son, and don’t I know that this isfeel to be a duty, and yet I must ask you for your kind considerationin attempting to discharge it. A misconception on your ously; ‘and do not these Miggles people know it, at least asexactly the way to hold him?’ said Mrs Gowan, contemptu-part, a very great misconception if I may venture to call it so, well as I? Oh, shrewd people, Mr Clennam: evidently peopleseems to require setting right. You have supposed Mr Meagles of business! I believe Miggles belonged to a Bank. It ought toand his family to strain every nerve, I think you said—’ have been a very profitable Bank, if he had much to do with its‘Every nerve,’ repeated Mrs Gowan, looking at him in calm management. This is very well done, indeed.’313

Charles Dickens‘I beg and entreat you, ma’am—’ Arthur interposed. ‘Not at all,’ said Clennam.‘Oh, Mr Clennam, can you really be so credulous?’ They had a little open phaeton for the journey, and wereIt made such a painful impression upon him to hear her talkingin this haughty tone, and to see her patting her contemptu-Clennam declined one. Do what he would, he fell into such asoon in it on the road home. Gowan, driving, lighted a cigar;ous lips with her fan, that he said very earnestly, ‘Believe me, mood of abstraction that Gowan said again, ‘I am very muchma’am, this is unjust, a perfectly groundless suspicion.’ afraid my mother has bored you?’ To which he roused himself‘Suspicion?’ repeated Mrs Gowan. ‘Not suspicion, Mr to answer, ‘Not at all!’ and soon relapsed again.Clennam, Certainty. It is very knowingly done indeed, and In that state of mind which rendered nobody uneasy, hisseems to have taken you in completely.’ She laughed; and thoughtfulness would have turned principally on the man at hisagain sat tapping her lips with her fan, and tossing her head, as side. He would have thought of the morning when he first sawif she added, ‘Don’t tell me. I know such people will do anythingfor the honour of such an alliance.’himself, ‘Does he jerk me out of the path in the same careless,him rooting out the stones with his heel, and would have askedAt this opportune moment, the cards were thrown up, and cruel way?’ He would have thought, had this introduction toMr Henry Gowan came across the room saying, ‘Mother, if his mother been brought about by him because he knew whatyou can spare Mr Clennam for this time, we have a long way she would say, and that he could thus place his position beforeto go, and it’s getting late.’ Mr Clennam thereupon rose, as he a rival and loftily warn him off, without himself reposing a wordhad no choice but to do; and Mrs Gowan showed him, to the of confidence in him? He would have thought, even if therelast, the same look and the same tapped contemptuous lips. were no such design as that, had he brought him there to play‘You have had a portentously long audience of my mother,’ with his repressed emotions, and torment him? The current ofsaid Gowan, as the door closed upon them. ‘I fervently hope these meditations would have been stayed sometimes by ashe has not bored you?’rush of shame, bearing a remonstrance to himself from his own314

open nature, representing that to shelter such suspicions, evenfor the passing moment, was not to hold the high, unenviouscourse he had resolved to keep. At those times, the strivingwithin him would have been hardest; and looking up and catchingGowan’s eyes, he would have started as if he had donehim an injury.Then, looking at the dark road and its uncertain objects, hewould have gradually trailed off again into thinking, ‘Whereare we driving, he and I, I wonder, on the darker road of life?How will it be with us, and with her, in the obscure distance?’Thinking of her, he would have been troubled anew with areproachful misgiving that it was not even loyal to her to dislikehim, and that in being so easily prejudiced against him he wasless deserving of her than at first.‘You are evidently out of spirits,’ said Gowan; ‘I am verymuch afraid my mother must have bored you dreadfully.’ ‘Believeme, not at all,’ said Clennam. ‘It’s nothing—nothing!’Little Dorrit – Book OneCHAPTER 27 Five-and-TwentyA FREQUENTLY RECURRING doubt, whether Mr Pancks’s desireto collect information relative to the Dorrit family could haveany possible bearing on the misgivings he had imparted to hismother on his return from his long exile, caused Arthur Clennammuch uneasiness at this period. What Mr Pancks already knewabout the Dorrit family, what more he really wanted to findout, and why he should trouble his busy head about them atall, were questions that often perplexed him. Mr Pancks wasnot a man to waste his time and trouble in researches promptedby idle curiosity. That he had a specific object Clennam couldnot doubt. And whether the attainment of that object by MrPancks’s industry might bring to light, in some untimely way,secret reasons which had induced his mother to take LittleDorrit by the hand, was a serious speculation.Not that he ever wavered either in his desire or his determinationto repair a wrong that had been done in his father’stime, should a wrong come to light, and be reparable. Theshadow of a supposed act of injustice, which had hung overhim since his father’s death, was so vague and formless that it315

Charles Dickensmight be the result of a reality widely remote from his idea of it. there were times when he wondered that he made so much ofBut, if his apprehensions should prove to be well founded, he it. Labouring in this sea, as all barks labour in cross seas, hewas ready at any moment to lay down all he had, and begin tossed about and came to no haven.the world anew. As the fierce dark teaching of his childhood The removal of Little Dorrit herself from their customaryhad never sunk into his heart, so that first article in his code of association, did not mend the matter. She was so much out,morals was, that he must begin, in practical humility, with looking and so much in her own room, that he began to miss her and towell to his feet on Earth, and that he could never mount on find a blank in her place. He had written to her to inquire if shewings of words to Heaven. Duty on earth, restitution on earth, were better, and she had written back, very gratefully and earnestlytelling him not to be uneasy on her behalf, for she wasaction on earth; these first, as the first steep steps upward.Strait was the gate and narrow was the way; far straiter and quite well; but he had not seen her, for what, in their intercourse,was a long time.narrower than the broad high road paved with vain professionsand vain repetitions, motes from other men’s eyes and He returned home one evening from an interview with herliberal delivery of others to the judgment—all cheap materials father, who had mentioned that she was out visiting—whichcosting absolutely nothing.was what he always said when she was hard at work to buyNo. It was not a selfish fear or hesitation that rendered him his supper—and found Mr Meagles in an excited state walkingup and down his room. On his opening the door, Mruneasy, but a mistrust lest Pancks might not observe his part ofthe understanding between them, and, making any discovery, Meagles stopped, faced round, and said:might take some course upon it without imparting it to him. On ‘Clennam!—Tattycoram!’the other hand, when he recalled his conversation with Pancks, ‘What’s the matter?’and the little reason he had to suppose that there was any ‘Lost!’likelihood of that strange personage being on that track at all, ‘Why, bless my heart alive!’ cried Clennam in amazement.316

Little Dorrit – Book One‘What do you mean?’nation on the part of my dear child which I am sorry for. Perhapsyou guess the person. Henry Gowan.’‘Wouldn’t count five-and-twenty, sir; couldn’t be got to doit; stopped at eight, and took herself off.’‘I was not unprepared to hear it.’‘Left your house?’‘Well!’ said Mr Meagles, with a heavy sigh, ‘I wish to God‘Never to come back,’ said Mr Meagles, shaking his head. you had never had to hear it. However, so it is. Mother and I‘You don’t know that girl’s passionate and proud character. A have done all we could to get the better of it, Clennam. Weteam of horses couldn’t draw her back now; the bolts and have tried tender advice, we have tried time, we have triedbars of the old Bastille couldn’t keep her.’absence. As yet, of no use. Our late conversations have been‘How did it happen? Pray sit down and tell me.’upon the subject of going away for another year at least, in‘As to how it happened, it’s not so easy to relate: because order that there might be an entire separation and breaking offyou must have the unfortunate temperament of the poor impetuousgirl herself, before you can fully understand it. But it therefore Mother and I have been unhappy.’ Clennam saidfor that term. Upon that question, Pet has been unhappy, andcame about in this way. Pet and Mother and I have been havinga good deal of talk together of late. I’ll not disguise from ‘Well!’ continued Mr Meagles in an apologetic way, ‘I ad-that he could easily believe it.you, Clennam, that those conversations have not been of as mit as a practical man, and I am sure Mother would admit as abright a kind as I could wish; they have referred to our going practical woman, that we do, in families, magnify our troublesaway again. In proposing to do which, I have had, in fact, an and make mountains of our molehills in a way that is calculatedobject.’to be rather trying to people who look on—to mere outsiders,Nobody’s heart beat quickly.you know, Clennam.‘An object,’ said Mr Meagles, after a moment’s pause, ‘that Still, Pet’s happiness or unhappiness is quite a life or deathI will not disguise from you, either, Clennam. There’s an incli-question with us; and we may be excused, I hope, for making317

Charles Dickensmuch of it. At all events, it might have been borne by dear, we’ll take advantage of some better disposition in herTattycoram. Now, don’t you think so?’another time. So we said nothing. But, do what we would, it‘I do indeed think so,’ returned Clennam, in most emphatic seems as if it was to be; she broke out violently one night.’recognition of this very moderate expectation.‘How, and why?’‘No, sir,’ said Mr Meagles, shaking his head ruefully. ‘She ‘If you ask me Why,’ said Mr Meagles, a little disturbed bycouldn’t stand it. The chafing and firing of that girl, the wearing the question, for he was far more intent on softening her caseand tearing of that girl within her own breast, has been such than the family’s, ‘I can only refer you to what I have justthat I have softly said to her again and again in passing her, repeated as having been pretty near my words to Mother. As‘Five-and-twenty, Tattycoram, five-and-twenty!” I heartily wish to How, we had said Good night to Pet in her presence (veryshe could have gone on counting five-and-twenty day and night, affectionately, I must allow), and she had attended Pet upstairs—youremember she was her maid. Perhaps Pet, havingand then it wouldn’t have happened.’Mr Meagles with a despondent countenance in which the been out of sorts, may have been a little more inconsiderategoodness of his heart was even more expressed than in his than usual in requiring services of her: but I don’t know that Itimes of cheerfulness and gaiety, stroked his face down from have any right to say so; she was always thoughtful and gentle.’his forehead to his chin, and shook his head again.‘The gentlest mistress in the world.’‘I said to Mother (not that it was necessary, for she would ‘Thank you, Clennam,’ said Mr Meagles, shaking him byhave thought it all for herself), we are practical people, my the hand; ‘you have often seen them together. Well! We presentlyheard this unfortunate Tattycoram loud and angry, anddear, and we know her story; we see in this unhappy girl somereflection of what was raging in her mother’s heart before ever before we could ask what was the matter, Pet came back in asuch a creature as this poor thing was in the world; we’ll gloss tremble, saying she was frightened of her. Close after her cameher temper over, Mother, we won’t notice it at present, my Tattycoram in a flaming rage. “I hate you all three,” says she,318

Little Dorrit – Book Onestamping her foot at us. “I am bursting with hate of the whole her young mistress? As good as her? Ah! Perhaps fifty timeshouse.”’as good. When we pretended to be so fond of one another,‘Upon which you—?’we exulted over her; that was what we did; we exulted over‘I?’ said Mr Meagles, with a plain good faith that might have her and shamed her. And all in the house did the same. Theycommanded the belief of Mrs Gowan herself. ‘I said, count talked about their fathers and mothers, and brothers and sisters;they liked to drag them up before her face. There wasfive-and-twenty, Tattycoram.’Mr Meagles again stroked his face and shook his head, with Mrs Tickit, only yesterday, when her little grandchild was withan air of profound regret.her, had been amused by the child’s trying to call her‘She was so used to do it, Clennam, that even then, such a (Tattycoram) by the wretched name we gave her; and hadpicture of passion as you never saw, she stopped short, looked laughed at the name. Why, who didn’t; and who were we thatme full in the face, and counted (as I made out) to eight. But we should have a right to name her like a dog or a cat? But sheshe couldn’t control herself to go any further. There she broke didn’t care. She would take no more benefits from us; shedown, poor thing, and gave the other seventeen to the four would fling us her name back again, and she would go. Shewinds. Then it all burst out. She detested us, she was miserablewith us, she couldn’t bear it, she wouldn’t bear it, she should never hear of her again.’would leave us that minute, nobody should stop her, and wewas determined to go away. She was younger than her young Mr Meagles had recited all this with such a vivid remembranceof his original, that he was almost as flushed and hot bymistress, and would she remain to see her always held up asthe only creature who was young and interesting, and to be this time as he described her to have been.cherished and loved? No. She wouldn’t, she wouldn’t, she ‘Ah, well!’ he said, wiping his face. ‘It was of no use tryingwouldn’t! What did we think she, Tattycoram, might have been reason then, with that vehement panting creature (Heavenif she had been caressed and cared for in her childhood, like knows what her mother’s story must have been); so I quietly319

Charles Dickenstold her that she should not go at that late hour of night, and I Then, of course, I recalled what she said that day at dinnergave her MY hand and took her to her room, and locked the when you were first with us.’house doors. But she was gone this morning.’ ‘And you know ‘Have you any idea where Miss Wade is to be found?’no more of her?’‘To tell you the truth,’ returned Mr Meagles, ‘it’s because I‘No more,’ returned Mr Meagles. ‘I have been hunting about have an addled jumble of a notion on that subject that youall day. She must have gone very early and very silently. I have found me waiting here. There is one of those odd impressionsfound no trace of her down about us.’in my house, which do mysteriously get into houses sometimes,which nobody seems to have picked up in a distinct‘Stay! You want,’ said Clennam, after a moment’s reflection,‘to see her? I assume that?’form from anybody, and yet which everybody seems to have‘Yes, assuredly; I want to give her another chance; Mother got hold of loosely from somebody and let go again, that sheand Pet want to give her another chance; come! You yourself,’said Mr Meagles, persuasively, as if the provocation to slip of paper, on which was written the name of one of the dulllives, or was living, thereabouts.’ Mr Meagles handed him abe angry were not his own at all, ‘want to give the poor passionategirl another chance, I know, Clennam.’‘Here is no number,’ said Arthur looking over it.by-streets in the Grosvenor region, near Park Lane.‘It would be strange and hard indeed if I did not,’ said ‘No number, my dear Clennam?’ returned his friend. ‘NoClennam, ‘when you are all so forgiving. What I was going to anything! The very name of the street may have been floatingask you was, have you thought of that Miss Wade?’ in the air; for, as I tell you, none of my people can say where‘I have. I did not think of her until I had pervaded the whole they got it from. However, it’s worth an inquiry; and as I wouldof our neighbourhood, and I don’t know that I should have rather make it in company than alone, and as you too were adone so then but for finding Mother and Pet, when I went fellow-traveller of that immovable woman’s, I thought perhaps—’Clennam finished the sentence for him by taking home, full of the idea that Tattycoram must have gone to her.up320

Little Dorrit – Book Onehis hat again, and saying he was ready.Here and there a Hatchment, with the whole science of Heraldryin it, loomed down upon the street, like an ArchbishopIt was now summer-time; a grey, hot, dusty evening. Theyrode to the top of Oxford Street, and there alighting, dived in discoursing on Vanity. The shops, few in number, made noamong the great streets of melancholy stateliness, and the little show; for popular opinion was as nothing to them. Thestreets that try to be as stately and succeed in being more pastrycook knew who was on his books, and in that knowledgecould be calm, with a few glass cylinders of dowagermelancholy, of which there is a labyrinth near Park Lane. Wildernessesof corner houses, with barbarous old porticoes and peppermint-drops in his window, and half-a-dozen ancientappurtenances; horrors that came into existence under some specimens of currant-jelly. A few oranges formed thewrong-headed person in some wrong-headed time, still demandingthe blind admiration of all ensuing generations and basket made of moss, once containing plovers’ eggs, held allgreengrocer’s whole concession to the vulgar mind. A singledetermined to do so until they tumbled down; frowned upon that the poulterer had to say to the rabble. Everybody in thosethe twilight. Parasite little tenements, with the cramp in their streets seemed (which is always the case at that hour and season)to be gone out to dinner, and nobody seemed to be giv-whole frame, from the dwarf hall-door on the giant model ofHis Grace’s in the Square to the squeezed window of the boudoircommanding the dunghills in the Mews, made the evening lounging footmen with bright parti-coloured plumage and whiteing the dinners they had gone to. On the doorsteps there weredoleful. Rickety dwellings of undoubted fashion, but of a capacityto hold nothing comfortably except a dismal smell, tary men of recluse demeanour, each of whom appeared dis-polls, like an extinct race of monstrous birds; and butlers, soli-looked like the last result of the great mansions’ breeding inand-in;and, where their little supplementary bows and balco-was done for the day; the street lamps were lighting; and wickedtrustful of all other butlers. The roll of carriages in the Parknies were supported on thin iron columns, seemed to be little grooms in the tightest fitting garments, with twists in theirscrofulously resting upon crutches.legs answering to the twists in their minds, hung about in pairs,321

Charles Dickenschewing straws and exchanging fraudulent secrets. The spotteddogs who went out with the carriages, and who were so were no wiser.which they had begun, and it had fallen quite dark, and theyassociated with splendid equipages that it looked like a condescensionin those animals to come out without them, ac-a dingy house, apparently empty, with bills in the windows,It happened that in the street they had several times passedcompanied helpers to and fro on messages. Here and there announcing that it was to let. The bills, as a variety in the funeralprocession, almost amounted to a decoration. Perhapswas a retiring public-house which did not require to be supportedon the shoulders of the people, and where gentlemen because they kept the house separated in his mind, or perhapsout of livery were not much wanted.because Mr Meagles and himself had twice agreed in passing,This last discovery was made by the two friends in pursuing ‘It is clear she don’t live there,’ Clennam now proposed thattheir inquiries. Nothing was there, or anywhere, known of such they should go back and try that house before finally goinga person as Miss Wade, in connection with the street they away. Mr Meagles agreed, and back they went.sought. It was one of the parasite streets; long, regular, narrow,dull and gloomy; like a brick and mortar funeral. They sponse.They knocked once, and they rang once, without any re-inquired at several little area gates, where a dejected youth ‘Empty,’ said Mr Meagles, listening. ‘Once more,’ saidstood spiking his chin on the summit of a precipitous little shoot Clennam, and knocked again. After that knock they heard aof wooden steps, but could gain no information. They walked movement below, and somebody shuffling up towards the door.up the street on one side of the way, and down it on the other, The confined entrance was so dark that it was impossible towhat time two vociferous news-sellers, announcing an extraordinaryevent that had never happened and never would hap-it appeared to be an old woman. ‘Excuse our troubling you,’make out distinctly what kind of person opened the door; butpen, pitched their hoarse voices into the secret chambers; but said Clennam. ‘Pray can you tell us where Miss Wade lives?’nothing came of it. At length they stood at the corner from The voice in the darkness unexpectedly replied, ‘Lives here.’322

Little Dorrit – Book One‘Is she at home?’The lady whom they had come to see, if she were the presentNo answer coming, Mr Meagles asked again. ‘Pray is she occupant of the house, appeared to have taken up her quartersthere as she might have established herself in an Easternat home?’After another delay, ‘I suppose she is,’ said the voice caravanserai. A small square of carpet in the middle of theabruptly; ‘you had better come in, and I’ll ask.’room, a few articles of furniture that evidently did not belongThey ‘were summarily shut into the close black house; and to the room, and a disorder of trunks and travelling articles,the figure rustling away, and speaking from a higher level, said, formed the whole of her surroundings. Under some former‘Come up, if you please; you can’t tumble over anything.’ They regular inhabitant, the stifling little apartment had broken outgroped their way up-stairs towards a faint light, which proved into a pier-glass and a gilt table; but the gilding was as faded asto be the light of the street shining through a window; and the last year’s flowers, and the glass was so clouded that it seemedfigure left them shut in an airless room.to hold in magic preservation all the fogs and bad weather it‘This is odd, Clennam,’ said Mr Meagles, softly.had ever reflected. The visitors had had a minute or two to‘Odd enough,’ assented Clennam in the same tone, ‘but we look about them, when the door opened and Miss Wade camehave succeeded; that’s the main point. Here’s a light coming!’ in.The light was a lamp, and the bearer was an old woman: She was exactly the same as when they had parted. just asvery dirty, very wrinkled and dry. ‘She’s at home,’ she said handsome, just as scornful, just as repressed. She manifested(and the voice was the same that had spoken before); ‘she’ll no surprise in seeing them, nor any other emotion. She requestedthem to be seated; and declining to take a seat her-come directly.’ Having set the lamp down on the table, the oldwoman dusted her hands on her apron, which she might have self, at once anticipated any introduction of their business.done for ever without cleaning them, looked at the visitors ‘I apprehend,’ she said, ‘that I know the cause of yourwith a dim pair of eyes, and backed out.favouring me with this visit. We may come to it at once.’323

Charles Dickens‘The cause then, ma’am,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘is Tattycoram.’ her under a sort of fascination, and could not even look to‘So I supposed.’Clennam to make another move. After waiting, awkwardly‘Miss Wade,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘will you be so kind as to enough, for some moments, Arthur said: ‘Perhaps it would besay whether you know anything of her?’well if Mr Meagles could see her, Miss Wade?’‘Surely. I know she is here with me.’‘That is easily done,’ said she. ‘Come here, child.’ She had‘Then, ma’am,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘allow me to make known opened a door while saying this, and now led the girl in by theto you that I shall be happy to have her back, and that my wife hand. It was very curious to see them standing together: theand daughter will be happy to have her back. She has been girl with her disengaged fingers plaiting the bosom of her dress,with us a long time: we don’t forget her claims upon us, and I half irresolutely, half passionately; Miss Wade with her composedface attentively regarding her, and suggesting to an ob-hope we know how to make allowances.’‘You hope to know how to make allowances?’ she returned, server, with extraordinary force, in her composure itself (as ain a level, measured voice. ‘For what?’veil will suggest the form it covers), the unquenchable passion‘I think my friend would say, Miss Wade,’ Arthur Clennam of her own nature.interposed, seeing Mr Meagles rather at a loss, ‘for the passionatesense that sometimes comes upon the poor girl, of is your patron, your master. He is willing to take you back, my‘See here,’ she said, in the same level way as before. ‘Herebeing at a disadvantage. Which occasionally gets the better of dear, if you are sensible of the favour and choose to go. Youbetter remembrances.’can be, again, a foil to his pretty daughter, a slave to her pleasantwilfulness, and a toy in the house showing the goodness ofThe lady broke into a smile as she turned her eyes upon him.‘Indeed?’ was all she answered.the family. You can have your droll name again, playfully pointingShe stood by the table so perfectly composed and still after you out and setting you apart, as it is right that you should bethis acknowledgment of his remark that Mr Meagles stared at pointed out and set apart. (Your birth, you know; you must324

Little Dorrit – Book Onenot forget your birth.) You can again be shown to this good girl, conscious that I meant nothing but kindness when Igentleman’s daughter, Harriet, and kept before her, as a living gave it to you, and conscious that you know it—’reminder of her own superiority and her gracious condescension.You can recover all these advantages and many more of herself with the same busy hand.‘I don’t!’ said she, looking up again, and almost rendingthe same kind which I dare say start up in your memory while ‘No, not now, perhaps,’ said Mr Meagles; ‘not with thatI speak, and which you lose in taking refuge with me—you lady’s eyes so intent upon you, Tattycoram,’ she glanced atcan recover them all by telling these gentlemen how humbled them for a moment, ‘and that power over you, which we seeand penitent you are, and by going back to them to be forgiven.What do you say, Harriet? Will you go?’Tattycoram, I’ll not ask that lady whether she believes whatshe exercises; not now, perhaps, but at another time.The girl who, under the influence of these words, had graduallyrisen in anger and heightened in colour, answered, raising friend here equally know she has spoken, though she subduesshe has said, even in the anger and ill blood in which I and myher lustrous black eyes for the moment, and clenching her hand herself, with a determination that any one who has once seenupon the folds it had been puckering up, ‘I’d die sooner!’ her is not likely to forget. I’ll not ask you, with your remembranceof my house and all belonging to it, whether you be-Miss Wade, still standing at her side holding her hand, lookedquietly round and said with a smile, ‘Gentlemen! What do you lieve it. I’ll only say that you have no profession to make to medo upon that?’or mine, and no forgiveness to entreat; and that all in the worldPoor Mr Meagles’s inexpressible consternation in hearing that I ask you to do, is, to count five-and-twenty, Tattycoram.’his motives and actions so perverted, had prevented him from She looked at him for an instant, and then said frowningly, ‘Iinterposing any word until now; but now he regained the power won’t. Miss Wade, take me away, please.’of speech.The contention that raged within her had no softening in it‘Tattycoram,’ said he, ‘for I’ll call you by that name still, my now; it was wholly between passionate defiance and stubborn325

Charles Dickensdefiance. Her rich colour, her quick blood, her rapid breath, Mr Meagles, ‘at her present pass; though I hope not altogetherto dismiss it, even with the injury you do her so stronglywere all setting themselves against the opportunity of retracingtheir steps. ‘I won’t. I won’t. I won’t!’ she repeated in a low, before me. Excuse me for reminding you in her hearing—Ithick voice. ‘I’d be torn to pieces first. I’d tear myself to pieces must say it—that you were a mystery to all of us, and hadfirst!’nothing in common with any of us when she unfortunately fellMiss Wade, who had released her hold, laid her hand in your way. I don’t know what you are, but you don’t hide,protectingly on the girl’s neck for a moment, and then said, can’t hide, what a dark spirit you have within you. If it shouldlooking round with her former smile and speaking exactly in happen that you are a woman, who, from whatever cause, hasher former tone, ‘Gentlemen! What do you do upon that?’ a perverted delight in making a sister-woman as wretched as‘Oh, Tattycoram, Tattycoram!’ cried Mr Meagles, adjuring she is (I am old enough to have heard of such), I warn herher besides with an earnest hand. ‘Hear that lady’s voice, look against you, and I warn you against yourself.’at that lady’s face, consider what is in that lady’s heart, and ‘Gentlemen!’ said Miss Wade, calmly. ‘When you have concluded—MrClennam, perhaps you will induce your friend—’think what a future lies before you. My child, whatever youmay think, that lady’s influence over you—astonishing to us, ‘Not without another effort,’ said Mr Meagles, stoutly.and I should hardly go too far in saying terrible to us to see— ‘Tattycoram, my poor dear girl, count five-and-twenty.’ ‘Dois founded in passion fiercer than yours, and temper more violentthan yours. What can you two be together? What can said Clennam in a low emphatic voice. ‘Turn to the friends younot reject the hope, the certainty, this kind man offers you,’come of it?’have not forgotten. Think once more!’‘I am alone here, gentlemen,’ observed Miss Wade, with no ‘I won’t! Miss Wade,’ said the girl, with her bosom swellingchange of voice or manner. ‘Say anything you will.’high, and speaking with her hand held to her throat, ‘take me‘Politeness must yield to this misguided girl, ma’am,’ said away!’326

Little Dorrit – Book One‘Tattycoram,’ said Mr Meagles. ‘Once more yet! The only external composure and in the same level voice, but with athing I ask of you in the world, my child! Count five-andtwenty!’the nostril, scarcely touching the lips, and not breaking awaysmile that is only seen on cruel faces: a very faint smile, liftingShe put her hands tightly over her ears, confusedly tumbling gradually, but instantly dismissed when done with:down her bright black hair in the vehemence of the action, and ‘I hope the wife of your dear friend Mr Gowan, may beturned her face resolutely to the wall. Miss Wade, who had happy in the contrast of her extraction to this girl’s and mine,watched her under this final appeal with that strange attentive and in the high good fortune that awaits her.’smile, and that repressing hand upon her own bosom with whichshe had watched her in her struggle at Marseilles, then put herCHAPTER 28 Nobody’s Disappearancearm about her waist as if she took possession of her for evermore.NOT RESTING SATISFIED with the endeavours he had made toAnd there was a visible triumph in her face when she turnedrecover his lost charge, Mr Meagles addressed a letter of remonstrance,breathing nothing but goodwill, not only to her,it to dismiss the visitors.‘As it is the last time I shall have the honour,’ she said, ‘andbut to Miss Wade too. No answer coming to these epistles, oras you have spoken of not knowing what I am, and also of theto another written to the stubborn girl by the hand of her latefoundation of my influence here, you may now know that it isyoung mistress, which might have melted her if anything couldfounded in a common cause. What your broken plaything is as(all three letters were returned weeks afterwards as havingto birth, I am. She has no name, I have no name. Her wrong isbeen refused at the house-door), he deputed Mrs Meagles tomy wrong. I have nothing more to say to you.’make the experiment of a personal interview. That worthy ladyThis was addressed to Mr Meagles, who sorrowfully wentbeing unable to obtain one, and being steadfastly denied admission,Mr Meagles besought Arthur to essay once moreout. As Clennam followed, she said to him, with the same327

Charles Dickenswhat he could do. All that came of his compliance was, his young people came down to Twickenham, who, not findingdiscovery that the empty house was left in charge of the old themselves received with enthusiasm, generally demandedwoman, that Miss Wade was gone, that the waifs and strays compensation by way of damages, in addition to coach-hireof furniture were gone, and that the old woman would accept there and back. Nor were these the only uninvited clients whomany number of half-crowns and thank the donor kindly, but the advertisement produced. The swarm of begging-letter writers,who would seem to be always watching eagerly for anyhad no information whatever to exchange for those coins, beyondconstantly offering for perusal a memorandum relative to hook, however small, to hang a letter upon, wrote to say thatfixtures, which the house-agent’s young man had left in the having seen the advertisement, they were induced to applyhall.with confidence for various sums, ranging from ten shillings toUnwilling, even under this discomfiture, to resign the ingrate fifty pounds: not because they knew anything about the youngand leave her hopeless, in case of her better dispositions obtainingthe mastery over the darker side of her character, Mr would greatly relieve the advertiser’s mind. Several projec-person, but because they felt that to part with those donationsMeagles, for six successive days, published a discreetly covertadvertisement in the morning papers, to the effect that if a correspond with Mr Meagles; as, for example, to apprise himtors, likewise, availed themselves of the same opportunity tocertain young person who had lately left home without reflection,would at any time apply to his address at Twickenham, a friend, they begged to state that if they should ever hearthat their attention having been called to the advertisement byeverything would be as it had been before, and no reproaches anything of the young person, they would not fail to make itneed be apprehended. The unexpected consequences of this known to him immediately, and that in the meantime if he wouldnotification suggested to the dismayed Mr Meagles for the oblige them with the funds necessary for bringing to perfectionfirst time that some hundreds of young persons must be leavingtheir homes without reflection every day; for shoals of wrong sults would ensue toa certain entirely novel description of Pump, the happiest re-mankind.328

Little Dorrit – Book OneMr Meagles and his family, under these combined discouragements,had begun reluctantly to give up Tattycoram as irreingsun, were all divinely calm. Upon the purple tree-tops farred and gold in the sky, and the glorious track of the descendcoverable,when the new and active firm of Doyce and away, and on the green height near at hand up which the shadesClennam, in their private capacities, went down on a Saturday were slowly creeping, there was an equal hush. Between theto stay at the cottage until Monday. The senior partner took real landscape and its shadow in the water, there was no division;both were so untroubled and clear, and, while so fraughtthe coach, and the junior partner took his walking-stick.A tranquil summer sunset shone upon him as he approached with solemn mystery of life and death, so hopefully reassuringthe end of his walk, and passed through the meadows by the to the gazer’s soothed heart, because so tenderly and mercifullybeautiful.river side. He had that sense of peace, and of being lightenedof a weight of care, which country quiet awakens in the breasts Clennam had stopped, not for the first time by many times,of dwellers in towns. Everything within his view was lovely to look about him and suffer what he saw to sink into his soul,and placid. The rich foliage of the trees, the luxuriant grass as the shadows, looked at, seemed to sink deeper and deeperdiversified with wild flowers, the little green islands in the river, into the water. He was slowly resuming his way, when he sawthe beds of rushes, the water-lilies floating on the surface of a figure in the path before him which he had, perhaps, alreadythe stream, the distant voices in boats borne musically towards associated with the evening and its impressions.him on the ripple of the water and the evening air, were all Minnie was there, alone. She had some roses in her hand,expressive of rest. In the occasional leap of a fish, or dip of an and seemed to have stood still on seeing him, waiting for him.oar, or twittering of a bird not yet at roost, or distant barking Her face was towards him, and she appeared to have beenof a dog, or lowing of a cow—in all such sounds, there was coming from the opposite direction. There was a flutter in herthe prevailing breath of rest, which seemed to encompass him manner, which Clennam had never seen in it before; and as hein every scent that sweetened the fragrant air. The long lines of came near her, it entered his mind all at once that she was329

Charles Dickensthere of a set purpose to speak to him.and her light summer dress, with her rich brown hair naturallyShe gave him her hand, and said, ‘You wonder to see me clustering about her, and her wonderful eyes raised to his for ahere by myself? But the evening is so lovely, I have strolled moment with a look in which regard for him and trustfulness infurther than I meant at first. I thought it likely I might meet you, him were strikingly blended with a kind of timid sorrow forand that made me more confident. You always come this way, him, she was so beautiful that it was well for his peace—or illdo you not?’for his peace, he did not quite know which—that he had madeAs Clennam said that it was his favourite way, he felt her that vigorous resolution he had so often thought about.hand falter on his arm, and saw the roses shake.She broke a momentary silence by inquiring if he knew that‘Will you let me give you one, Mr Clennam? I gathered them papa had been thinking of another tour abroad? He said heas I came out of the garden. Indeed, I almost gathered them had heard it mentioned. She broke another momentary silencefor you, thinking it so likely I might meet you. Mr Doyce arrivedmore than an hour ago, and told us you were walking idea.by adding, with some hesitation, that papa had abandoned thedown.’At this, he thought directly, ‘they are to be married.’His own hand shook, as he accepted a rose or two from ‘Mr Clennam,’ she said, hesitating more timidly yet, andhers and thanked her. They were now by an avenue of trees. speaking so low that he bent his head to hear her. ‘I shouldWhether they turned into it on his movement or on hers matterslittle. He never knew how that was.mind having the goodness to receive it. I should have veryvery much like to give you my confidence, if you would not‘It is very grave here,’ said Clennam, ‘but very pleasant at much liked to have given it to you long ago, because—I feltthis hour. Passing along this deep shade, and out at that arch that you were becoming so much our friend.’of light at the other end, we come upon the ferry and the cottageby the best approach, I think.’ In her simple garden-hat give it to me. Pray trust‘How can I be otherwise than proud of it at any time! Prayme.’330

Little Dorrit – Book One‘I could never have been afraid of trusting you,’ she returned, gratification of believing it was in his power to render?raising her eyes frankly to his face. ‘I think I would have done She was going to answer, when she was so touched by someso some time ago, if I had known how. But I scarcely know little hidden sorrow or sympathy—what could it have been?—how, even now.’that she said, bursting into tears again: ‘O Mr Clennam! Good,‘Mr Gowan,’ said Arthur Clennam, ‘has reason to be very generous, Mr Clennam, pray tell me you do not blame me.’happy. God bless his wife and him!’‘I blame you?’ said Clennam. ‘My dearest girl! I blame you?She wept, as she tried to thank him. He reassured her, took No!’her hand as it lay with the trembling roses in it on his arm, took After clasping both her hands upon his arm, and lookingthe remaining roses from it, and put it to his lips. At that time, it confidentially up into his face, with some hurried words to theseemed to him, he first finally resigned the dying hope that had effect that she thanked him from her heart (as she did, if it beflickered in nobody’s heart so much to its pain and trouble; the source of earnestness), she gradually composed herself,and from that time he became in his own eyes, as to any similar with now and then a word of encouragement from him, as theyhope or prospect, a very much older man who had done with walked on slowly and almost silently under the darkening trees.that part of life.‘And, now, Minnie Gowan,’ at length said Clennam, smiling;‘will you ask me nothing?’He put the roses in his breast and they walked on for a littlewhile, slowly and silently, under the umbrageous trees. Then ‘Oh! I have very much to ask of you.’he asked her, in a voice of cheerful kindness, was there anythingelse that she would say to him as her friend and her father’s ‘You know how I am loved at home, and how I love home.‘That’s well! I hope so; I am not disappointed.’friend, many years older than herself; was there any trust she You can hardly think it perhaps, dear Mr Clennam,’ she spokewould repose in him, any service she would ask of him, any with great agitation, ‘seeing me going from it of my own freelittle aid to her happiness that she could give him the lasting will and choice, but I do so dearly love it!’331

Charles Dickens‘I am sure of that,’ said Clennam. ‘Can you suppose I doubt told me so himself when he talked to me this very day—thereit?’is nobody he likes so well as you, or trusts so much.’‘No, no. But it is strange, even to me, that loving it so much A clue to what had passed between the father and daughterand being so much beloved in it, I can bear to cast it away. It dropped like a heavy stone into the well of Clennam’s heart,seems so neglectful of it, so unthankful.’and swelled the water to his eyes. He said, cheerily, but not‘My dear girl,’ said Clennam, ‘it is in the natural progress quite so cheerily as he tried to say, that it should be done—and change of time. All homes are left so.’that he gave her his faithful promise.‘Yes, I know; but all homes are not left with such a blank in ‘If I do not speak of mama,’ said Pet, more moved by, andthem as there will be in mine when I am gone. Not that there is more pretty in, her innocent grief, than Clennam could trustany scarcity of far better and more endearing and more accomplishedgirls than I am; not that I am much, but that they trees between them and the fading light as they slowly dimin-himself even to consider—for which reason he counted thehave made so much of me!’ished in number—’it is because mama will understand me betterin this action, and will feel my loss in a different way, andPet’s affectionate heart was overcharged, and she sobbedwhile she pictured what would happen.will look forward in a different manner. But you know what a‘I know what a change papa will feel at first, and I know that dear, devoted mother she is, and you will remember her too;at first I cannot be to him anything like what I have been these will you not?’many years. And it is then, Mr Clennam, then more than at any Let Minnie trust him, Clennam said, let Minnie trust him totime, that I beg and entreat you to remember him, and sometimesto keep him company when you can spare a little while; ‘And, dear Mr Clennam,’ said Minnie, ‘because papa anddo all she wished.and to tell him that you know I was fonder of him when I left one whom I need not name, do not fully appreciate and understandone another yet, as they will by-and-by; and him, than I ever was in all my life. For there is nobody—hebe-332

Little Dorrit – Book Onecause it will be the duty, and the pride, and pleasure of my new trembling by touching one of the roses in his breast as an additionalappeal to him, she said:life, to draw them to a better knowledge of one another, andto be a happiness to one another, and to be proud of one ‘Dear Mr Clennam, in my happiness—for I am happy, thoughanother, and to love one another, both loving me so dearly; you have seen me crying—I cannot bear to leave any cloudoh, as you are a kind, true man! when I am first separated between us. If you have anything to forgive me (not anythingfrom home (I am going a long distance away), try to reconcile that I have wilfully done, but any trouble I may have causedpapa to him a little more, and use your great influence to keep you without meaning it, or having it in my power to help it),him before papa’s mind free from prejudice and in his real forgive me to-night out of your noble heart!’form. Will you do this for me, as you are a noble-hearted He stooped to meet the guileless face that met his withoutfriend?’shrinking. He kissed it, and answered, Heaven knew that hePoor Pet! Self-deceived, mistaken child! When were such had nothing to forgive. As he stooped to meet the innocentchanges ever made in men’s natural relations to one another: face once again, she whispered, ‘Good-bye!’ and he repeatedwhen was such reconcilement of ingrain differences ever effected!It has been tried many times by other daughters, Minnie; restless doubts. They came out of the avenue next moment,it. It was taking leave of all his old hopes—all nobody’s oldit has never succeeded; nothing has ever come of it but failure. arm-in-arm as they had entered it: and the trees seemed toSo Clennam thought. So he did not say; it was too late. He close up behind them in the darkness, like their own perspectiveof the past.bound himself to do all she asked, and she knew full well thathe would do it.The voices of Mr and Mrs Meagles and Doyce were audibledirectly, speaking near the garden gate. Hearing Pet’sThey were now at the last tree in the avenue. She stopped,and withdrew her arm. Speaking to him with her eyes lifted up name among them, Clennam called out, ‘She is here, with me.’to his, and with the hand that had lately rested on his sleeve There was some little wondering and laughing until they came333

Charles Dickensup; but as soon as they had all come together, it ceased, and loved my dead child very tenderly, and had lost her when shePet glided away.was like what Pet is now.’Mr Meagles, Doyce, and Clennam, without speaking, walked ‘Thank you!’ murmured Clennam, ‘thank you!’ And pressedup and down on the brink of the river, in the light of the rising his hand.moon, for a few minutes; and then Doyce lingered behind, and ‘Will you come in?’ said Mr Meagles, presently.went into the house. Mr Meagles and Clennam walked up and ‘In a little while.’down together for a few minutes more without speaking, until Mr Meagles fell away, and he was left alone. When he hadat length the former broke silence.walked on the river’s brink in the peaceful moonlight for some‘Arthur,’ said he, using that familiar address for the first time half an hour, he put his hand in his breast and tenderly took outin their communication, ‘do you remember my telling you, as the handful of roses. Perhaps he put them to his heart, perhapswe walked up and down one hot morning, looking over the he put them to his lips, but certainly he bent down on the shoreharbour at Marseilles, that Pet’s baby sister who was dead and gently launched them on the flowing river. Pale and unrealseemed to Mother and me to have grown as she had grown, in the moonlight, the river floated them away. The lights wereand changed as she had changed?’bright within doors when he entered, and the faces on which‘Very well.’they shone, his own face not excepted, were soon quietly cheerful.They talked of many subjects (his partner never had had‘You remember my saying that our thoughts had never beenable to separate those twin sisters, and that, in our fancy, whateverPet was, the other was?’and so to bed, and to sleep. While the flowers, pale and unrealsuch a ready store to draw upon for the beguiling of the time),‘Yes, very well.’in the moonlight, floated away upon the river; and thus do‘Arthur,’ said Mr Meagles, much subdued, ‘I carry that fancy greater things that once were in our breasts, and near our hearts,further to-night. I feel to-night, my dear fellow, as if you had flow from us to the eternal seas.334

Little Dorrit – Book Oneshrunken one of our own uniform and contracted existence, isCHAPTER 29 Mrs Flintwinchthe infirmity of many invalids, and the mental unhealthiness ofgoes on Dreamingalmost all recluses.What scenes and actors the stern woman most reviewed, asTHE HOUSE IN THE CITY preserved its heavy dulness through allshe sat from season to season in her one dark room, nonethese transactions, and the invalid within it turned the sameknew but herself. Mr Flintwinch, with his wry presence broughtunvarying round of life. Morning, noon, and night, morning,to bear upon her daily like some eccentric mechanical force,noon, and night, each recurring with its accompanying monotony,always the same reluctant return of the same sequenceswould perhaps have screwed it out of her, if there had beenless resistance in her; but she was too strong for him. So far asof machinery, like a dragging piece of clockwork.Mistress Affery was concerned, to regard her liege-lord andThe wheeled chair had its associated remembrances andher disabled mistress with a face of blank wonder, to go aboutreveries, one may suppose, as every place that is made thethe house after dark with her apron over her head, always tostation of a human being has. Pictures of demolished streetslisten for the strange noises and sometimes to hear them, andand altered houses, as they formerly were when the occupantnever to emerge from her ghostly, dreamy, sleep-waking state,of the chair was familiar with them, images of people as theywas occupation enough for her.too used to be, with little or no allowance made for the lapseThere was a fair stroke of business doing, as Mistress Afferyof time since they were seen; of these, there must have beenmade out, for her husband had abundant occupation in hismany in the long routine of gloomy days. To stop the clock oflittle office, and saw more people than had been used to comebusy existence at the hour when we were personally sequesteredfrom it, to suppose mankind stricken motionless whenthere for some years. This might easily be, the house havingbeen long deserted; but he did receive letters, and comers,we were brought to a stand-still, to be unable to measure theand keep books, and correspond. Moreover, he went aboutchanges beyond our view by any larger standard than the335

Charles Dickensto other counting-houses, and to wharves, and docks, and to mands upon her that she should hold her peace on the subjectthe Custom House,’ and to Garraway’s Coffee House, and of her conjugal relations, and should no longer call him Jeremiahthe Jerusalem Coffee House, and on ‘Change; so that he was out of the domestic trio. Her frequent forgetfulness of this admonitionintensified her startled manner, since Mr Flintwinch’smuch in and out. He began, too, sometimes of an evening,when Mrs Clennam expressed no particular wish for his society,to resort to a tavern in the neighbourhood to look at the after her on the staircase, and shaking her, occasioned her tohabit of avenging himself on her remissness by making springsshipping news and closing prices in the evening paper, and be always nervously uncertain when she might be thus waylaideven to exchange Small socialities with mercantile Sea Captainswho frequented that establishment. At some period of Little Dorrit had finished a long day’s work in Mrs Clennam’snext.every day, he and Mrs Clennam held a council on matters of room, and was neatly gathering up her shreds and odds andbusiness; and it appeared to Affery, who was always groping ends before going home. Mr Pancks, whom Affery had justabout, listening and watching, that the two clever ones were shown in, was addressing an inquiry to Mrs Clennam on themaking money.subject of her health, coupled with the remark that, ‘happeningto find himself in that direction,’ he had looked in to in-The state of mind into which Mr Flintwinch’s dazed ladyhad fallen, had now begun to be so expressed in all her looks quire, on behalf of his proprietor, how she found herself. Mrsand actions that she was held in very low account by the two Clennam, with a deep contraction of her brows, was lookingclever ones, as a person, never of strong intellect, who was at him.becoming foolish. Perhaps because her appearance was not ‘Mr Casby knows,’ said she, ‘that I am not subject toof a commercial cast, or perhaps because it occurred to him changes. The change that I await here is the great change.’that his having taken her to wife might expose his judgment to ‘Indeed, ma’am?’ returned Mr Pancks, with a wanderingdoubt in the minds of customers, Mr Flintwinch laid his com-eye towards the figure of the little seamstress on her knee pick-336

Little Dorrit – Book Oneing threads and fraying of her work from the carpet. ‘You look the road to the door,’ and steamed out. Mrs Clennam, hernicely, ma’am.’chin resting on her hand, followed him with attentive and darkly‘I bear what I have to bear,’ she answered. ‘Do you what distrustful eyes; and Affery stood looking at her as if she wereyou have to do.’ ‘Thank you, ma’am,’ said Mr Pancks, ‘such spell-bound.is my endeavour.’Slowly and thoughtfully, Mrs Clennam’s eyes turned from‘You are often in this direction, are you not?’ asked Mrs the door by which Pancks had gone out, to Little Dorrit, risingClennam.from the carpet. With her chin drooping more heavily on her‘Why, yes, ma’am,’ said Pancks, ‘rather so lately; I have hand, and her eyes vigilant and lowering, the sick woman satlately been round this way a good deal, owing to one thing and looking at her until she attracted her attention. Little Dorritanother.’ ‘Beg Mr Casby and his daughter not to trouble themselves,by deputy, about me. When they wish to see me, they still sat intent.coloured under such a gaze, and looked down. Mrs Clennamknow I am here to see them. They have no need to trouble ‘Little Dorrit,’ she said, when she at last broke silence, ‘whatthemselves to send. You have no need to trouble yourself to do you know of that man?’come.’ ‘Not the least trouble, ma’am,’ said Mr Pancks. ‘You ‘I don’t know anything of him, ma’am, except that I havereally are looking uncommonly nicely, ma’am.’seen him about, and that he has spoken to me.’‘Thank you. Good evening.’‘What has he said to you?’The dismissal, and its accompanying finger pointed straight ‘I don’t understand what he has said, he is so strange. Butat the door, was so curt and direct that Mr Pancks did not see nothing rough or disagreeable.’his way to prolong his visit. He stirred up his hair with his ‘Why does he come here to see you?’sprightliest expression, glanced at the little figure again, said ‘I don’t know, ma’am,’ said Little Dorrit, with perfect frankness.‘Good evening, ma ‘am; don’t come down, Mrs Affery, I know337

Charles Dickens‘You know that he does come here to see you?’‘Meaning,’ said Mrs Clennam, with her unbent finger again‘I have fancied so,’ said Little Dorrit. ‘But why he should pointing to the door, ‘that man?’come here or anywhere for that, ma’am, I can’t think.’ ‘Oh no, ma’am!’Mrs Clennam cast her eyes towards the ground, and with ‘Some friend of his, perhaps?’her strong, set face, as intent upon a subject in her mind as it ‘No ma’am.’ Little Dorrit earnestly shook her head. ‘Ohhad lately been upon the form that seemed to pass out of her no! No one at all like him, or belonging to him.’view, sat absorbed. Some minutes elapsed before she came ‘Well!’ said Mrs Clennam, almost smiling. ‘It is no affair ofout of this thoughtfulness, and resumed her hard composure. mine. I ask, because I take an interest in you; and because ILittle Dorrit in the meanwhile had been waiting to go, but believe I was your friend when you had no other who couldafraid to disturb her by moving. She now ventured to leave the serve you. Is that so?’spot where she had been standing since she had risen, and to ‘Yes, ma’am; indeed it is. I have been here many a timepass gently round by the wheeled chair. She stopped at its when, but for you and the work you gave me, we should haveside to say ‘Good night, ma’am.’wanted everything.’Mrs Clennam put out her hand, and laid it on her arm. Little ‘We,’ repeated Mrs Clennam, looking towards the watch,Dorrit, confused under the touch, stood faltering. Perhaps some once her dead husband’s, which always lay upon her table.momentary recollection of the story of the Princess may have ‘Are there many of you?’been in her mind.‘Only father and I, now. I mean, only father and I to keep‘Tell me, Little Dorrit,’ said Mrs Clennam, ‘have you many regularly out of what we get.’friends now?’‘Have you undergone many privations? You and your father‘Very few, ma’am. Besides you, only Miss Flora and—one and who else there may be of you?’ asked Mrs Clennam, speakingdeliberately, and meditatively turning the watch over and more.’over.338

Little Dorrit – Book One‘Sometimes it has been rather hard to live,’ said Little Dorrit, instead of having gone his way, as in any less wonderful placein her soft voice, and timid uncomplaining way; ‘but I think not and among less wonderful phenomena he might have beenharder—as to that—than many people find it.’reasonably expected to do, fluttering up and down the court‘That’s well said!’ Mrs Clennam quickly returned. ‘That’s outside the house.the truth! You are a good, thoughtful girl. You are a grateful girl The moment he saw Little Dorrit, he passed her briskly, saidtoo, or I much mistake you.’with his finger to his nose (as Mrs Affery distinctly heard),‘It is only natural to be that. There is no merit in being that,’ ‘Pancks the gipsy, fortune-telling,’ and went away. ‘Lord savesaid Little Dorrit. ‘I am indeed.’ Mrs Clennam, with a gentlenessof which the dreaming Affery had never dreamed her to tress Affery. ‘What next! She stood at the open door, stagger-us, here’s a gipsy and a fortune-teller in it now!’ cried Mis-be capable, drew down the face of her little seamstress, and ing herself with this enigma, on a rainy, thundery evening. Thekissed her on the forehead. ‘Now go, Little Dorrit,’ said she,’or clouds were flying fast, and the wind was coming up in gusts,you will be late, poor child!’banging some neighbouring shutters that had broken loose,In all the dreams Mistress Affery had been piling up since twirling the rusty chimney-cowls and weather-cocks, and rushinground and round a confined adjacent churchyard as if itshe first became devoted to the pursuit, she had dreamed nothingmore astonishing than this. Her head ached with the idea had a mind to blow the dead citizens out of their graves. Thethat she would find the other clever one kissing Little Dorrit low thunder, muttering in all quarters of the sky at once, seemednext, and then the two clever ones embracing each other and to threaten vengeance for this attempted desecration, and todissolving into tears of tenderness for all mankind. The idea mutter, ‘Let them rest! Let them rest!’quite stunned her, as she attended the light footsteps down the Mistress Affery, whose fear of thunder and lightning wasstairs, that the house door might be safely shut.only to be equalled by her dread of the haunted house with aOn opening it to let Little Dorrit out, she found Mr Pancks, premature and preternatural darkness in it, stood undecided339

Charles Dickenswhether to go in or not, until the question was settled for her nose. He laughed at Mistress Affery’s start and cry; and as heby the door blowing upon her in a violent gust of wind and laughed, his moustache went up under his nose, and his noseshutting her out. ‘What’s to be done now, what’s to be done came down over his moustache.now!’ cried Mistress Affery, wringing her hands in this last ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked in plain English. ‘What areuneasy dream of all; ‘when she’s all alone by herself inside, you frightened at?’and can no more come down to open it than the churchyard ‘At you,’ panted Affery.dead themselves!’‘Me, madam?’In this dilemma, Mistress Affery, with her apron as a hood ‘And the dismal evening, and—and everything,’ said Affery.to keep the rain off, ran crying up and down the solitary paved ‘And here! The wind has been and blown the door to, and Ienclosure several times. Why she should then stoop down and can’t get in.’look in at the keyhole of the door as if an eye would open it, it ‘Hah!’ said the gentleman, who took that very coolly. ‘Indeed!Do you know such a name as Clennam about here?’would be difficult to say; but it is none the less what mostpeople would have done in the same situation, and it is what ‘Lord bless us, I should think I did, I should think I did!’she did.cried Affery, exasperated into a new wringing of hands by theFrom this posture she started up suddenly, with a half scream, inquiry.feeling something on her shoulder. It was the touch of a hand; ‘Where about here?’of a man’s hand.‘Where!’ cried Affery, goaded into another inspection ofThe man was dressed like a traveller, in a foraging cap with the keyhole. ‘Where but here in this house? And she’s all alonefur about it, and a heap of cloak. He looked like a foreigner. in her room, and lost the use of her limbs and can’t stir to helpHe had a quantity of hair and moustache—jet black, except at herself or me, and t’other clever one’s out, and Lord forgivethe shaggy ends, where it had a tinge of red—and a high hook me!’ cried Affery, driven into a frantic dance by these accu-340

Little Dorrit – Book Onemulated considerations, ‘if I ain’t a-going headlong out of my for the day?’ ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ cried Affery. ‘Long ago.’mind!’‘Let me make, then, a fair proposal. Fairness is a part of myTaking a warmer view of the matter now that it concerned character. I am just landed from the packet-boat, as you mayhimself, the gentleman stepped back to glance at the house, see.’and his eye soon rested on the long narrow window of the little He showed her that his cloak was very wet, and that hisroom near the hall-door.boots were saturated with water; she had previously observed‘Where may the lady be who has lost the use of her limbs, that he was dishevelled and sallow, as if from a rough voyage,madam?’ he inquired, with that peculiar smile which Mistress and so chilled that he could not keep his teeth from chattering.Affery could not choose but keep her eyes upon.‘I am just landed from the packet-boat, madam, and have‘Up there!’ said Affery. ‘Them two windows.’been delayed by the weather: the infernal weather! In consequenceof this, madam, some necessary business that I should‘Hah! I am of a fair size, but could not have the honour ofpresenting myself in that room without a ladder. Now, madam, otherwise have transacted here within the regular hours (necessarybusiness because money-business), still remains to befrankly —frankness is a part of my character—shall I openthe door for you?’done. Now, if you will fetch any authorised neighbouring somebodyto do it in return for my opening the door, I’ll open the‘Yes, bless you, sir, for a dear creetur, and do it at once,’cried Affery, ‘for she may be a-calling to me at this very present door. If this arrangement should be objectionable, I’ll—’ andminute, or may be setting herself a fire and burning herself to with the same smile he made a significant feint of backing away.death, or there’s no knowing what may be happening to her, Mistress Affery, heartily glad to effect the proposed compromise,gave in her willing adhesion to it. The gentleman atand me a-going out of my mind at thinking of it!’‘Stay, my good madam!’ He restrained her impatience with once requested her to do him the favour of holding his cloak,a smooth white hand. ‘Business-hours, I apprehend, are over took a short run at the narrow window, made a leap at the sill,341

Charles Dickensclung his way up the bricks, and in a moment had his hand at the me with that genius?’ He held the door in his hand, as thoughsash, raising it. His eyes looked so very sinister, as he put his leg he were quite ready to shut her out again if she failed.into the room and glanced round at Mistress Affery, that she ‘Don’t you say anything about the door and me, then,’ whisperedAffery.thought with a sudden coldness, if he were to go straight upstairsto murder the invalid, what could she do to prevent him? ‘Not a word.’Happily he had no such purpose; for he reappeared, in a ‘And don’t you stir from here, or speak if she calls, while Imoment, at the house door. ‘Now, my dear madam,’ he said, run round the corner.’as he took back his cloak and threw it on, ‘if you have the ‘Madam, I am a statue.’goodness to—what the Devil’s that!’Affery had so vivid a fear of his going stealthily up-stairs theThe strangest of sounds. Evidently close at hand from the moment her back was turned, that after hurrying out of sight,peculiar shock it communicated to the air, yet subdued as if it she returned to the gateway to peep at him. Seeing him still onwere far off. A tremble, a rumble, and a fall of some light dry the threshold, more out of the house than in it, as if he had nomatter.love for darkness and no desire to probe its mysteries, she‘What the Devil is it?’flew into the next street, and sent a message into the tavern to‘I don’t know what it is, but I’ve heard the like of it over and Mr Flintwinch, who came out directly. The two returning together—thelady in advance, and Mr Flintwinch coming upover again,’ said Affery, who had caught his arm. He couldhardly be a very brave man, even she thought in her dreamy briskly behind, animated with the hope of shaking her beforestart and fright, for his trembling lips had turned colourless. she could get housed—saw the gentleman standing in the sameAfter listening a few moments, he made light of it.place in the dark, and heard the strong voice of Mrs Clennam‘Bah! Nothing! Now, my dear madam, I think you spoke of calling from her room, ‘Who is it? What is it? Why does nosome clever personage. Will you be so good as to confront one answer? Who is that, down there?’342

Little Dorrit – Book Oneanswered not a syllable to this adjuration, but, with her bareCHAPTER 30 The Word of a Gentlemanhead wagging violently backwards and forwards, resignedherself to her punishment. The stranger, however, picking upWHEN MR AND MRS FLINTWINCH panted up to the door of theher cap with an air of gallantry, interposed.old house in the twilight, Jeremiah within a second of Affery,‘Permit me,’ said he, laying his hand on the shoulder ofthe stranger started back. ‘Death of my soul!’ he exclaimed.Jeremiah, who stopped and released his victim. ‘Thank you.‘Why, how did you get here?’Excuse me. Husband and wife I know, from this playfulness.Mr Flintwinch, to whom these words were spoken, repaidHaha! Always agreeable to see that relation playfully maintained.Listen! May I suggest that somebody up-stairs, in thethe stranger’s wonder in full. He gazed at him with blank astonishment;he looked over his own shoulder, as expecting todark, is becoming energetically curious to know what is goingsee some one he had not been aware of standing behind him;on here?’he gazed at the stranger again, speechlessly, at a loss to knowThis reference to Mrs Clennam’s voice reminded Mr Flintwinchwhat he meant; he looked to his wife for explanation; receivingto step into the hall and call up the staircase. ‘It’s all right, I amnone, he pounced upon her, and shook her with such heartinessthat he shook her cap off her head, saying between hishere, Affery is coming with your light.’ Then he said to the latterflustered woman, who was putting her cap on, ‘Get out withteeth, with grim raillery, as he did it, ‘Affery, my woman, youyou, and get up-stairs!’ and then turned to the stranger and saidmust have a dose, my woman! This is some of your tricks!to him, ‘Now, sir, what might you please to want?’You have been dreaming again, mistress. What’s it about? Who‘I am afraid,’ said the stranger, ‘I must be so troublesome asis it? What does it mean! Speak out or be choked! It’s theto propose a candle.’only choice I’ll give you.’‘True,’ assented Jeremiah. ‘I was going to do so. Please toSupposing Mistress Affery to have any power of election atstand where you are while I get one.’the moment, her choice was decidedly to be choked; for she343

Charles DickensThe visitor was standing in the doorway, but turned a little ‘Timorous,’ remarked the stranger.into the gloom of the house as Mr Flintwinch turned, and pursuedhim with his eyes into the little room, where he groped as he went before with the candle. ‘More courageous than‘Timorous?’ said Mr Flintwinch, turning his head to retort,about for a phosphorus box. When he found it, it was damp, ninety men in a hundred, sir, let me tell you.’or otherwise out of order; and match after match that he struck ‘Though an invalid?’into it lighted sufficiently to throw a dull glare about his groping ‘Many years an invalid. Mrs Clennam. The only one of thatface, and to sprinkle his hands with pale little spots of fire, but name left in the House now. My partner.’ Saying somethingnot sufficiently to light the candle. The stranger, taking advantageof this fitful illumination of his visage, looked intently and time of night they were not in the habit of receiving any one,apologetically as he crossed the hall, to the effect that at thatwonderingly at him. Jeremiah, when he at last lighted the candle, and were always shut up, Mr Flintwinch led the way into hisknew he had been doing this, by seeing the last shade of a own office, which presented a sufficiently business-like appearance.Here he put the light on his desk, and said to thelowering watchfulness clear away from his face, as it brokeinto the doubtful smile that was a large ingredient in its expression.‘My name is Blandois.’stranger, with his wryest twist upon him, ‘Your commands.’‘Be so good,’ said Jeremiah, closing the house door, and ‘Blandois. I don’t know it,’ said Jeremiah.taking a pretty sharp survey of the smiling visitor in his turn, ‘as ‘I thought it possible,’ resumed the other, ‘that you mightto step into my counting-house.— It’s all right, I tell you!’ have been advised from Paris—’petulantly breaking off to answer the voice up-stairs, still unsatisfied,though Affery was there, speaking in persuasive tones. the name of Blandois,’ said Jeremiah.‘We have had no advice from Paris respecting anybody of‘Don’t I tell you it’s all right? Preserve the woman, has she no ‘No?’reason at all in her!’‘No.’344

Little Dorrit – Book OneJeremiah stood in his favourite attitude. The smiling Mr competent judge of such affairs than I am. It is my misfortuneBlandois, opening his cloak to get his hand to a breast-pocket, to be, not so much a man of business, as what the world callspaused to say, with a laugh in his glittering eyes, which it occurredto Mr Flintwinch were too near together:Mr Flintwinch took the letter, and read, under date of Paris,(arbitrarily) a gentleman.’‘You are so like a friend of mine! Not so identically the same ‘We have to present to you, on behalf of a highly esteemedas I supposed when I really did for the moment take you to be correspondent of our Firm, M. Blandois, of this city,’ &c. &c.the same in the dusk—for which I ought to apologise; permit ‘Such facilities as he may require and such attentions as mayme to do so; a readiness to confess my errors is, I hope, a part lie in your power,’ &c. &c. ‘Also have to add that if you willof the frankness of my character—still, however, uncommonly honour M. Blandois’ drafts at sight to the extent of, say Fiftylike.’Pounds sterling (l50),’ &c. &c.‘Indeed?’ said Jeremiah, perversely. ‘But I have not received ‘Very good, sir,’ said Mr Flintwinch. ‘Take a chair. To theany letter of advice from anywhere respecting anybody of the extent of anything that our House can do—we are in a retired,name of Blandois.’old-fashioned, steady way of business, sir—we shall be happy‘Just so,’ said the stranger.to render you our best assistance. I observe, from the date of‘Just so,’ said Jeremiah.this, that we could not yet be advised of it. Probably you cameMr Blandois, not at all put out by this omission on the part of over with the delayed mail that brings the advice.’the correspondents of the house of Clennam and Co., took his ‘That I came over with the delayed mail, sir,’ returned Mrpocket-book from his breast-pocket, selected a letter from Blandois, passing his white hand down his high-hooked nose,that receptacle, and handed it to Mr Flintwinch. ‘No doubt ‘I know to the cost of my head and stomach: the detestableyou are well acquainted with the writing. Perhaps the letter and intolerable weather having racked them both. You see mespeaks for itself, and requires no advice. You are a far more in the plight in which I came out of the packet within this half-345

Charles Dickenshour. I ought to have been here hours ago, and then I should ‘A citizen of the world has no habits. That I am, in my poornot have to apologise—permit me to apologise—for presentingmyself so unreasonably, and frightening—no, by-the-bye, unaccommodating prejudiced habits. A clean room, a hot dishway, a gentleman, by Heaven! I will not deny, but I have noyou said not frightening; permit me to apologise again—the for dinner, and a bottle of not absolutely poisonous wine, areesteemed lady, Mrs Clennam, in her invalid chamber above all I want tonight. But I want that much without the trouble ofstairs.’going one unnecessary inch to get it.’Swagger and an air of authorised condescension do so much, ‘There is,’ said Mr Flintwinch, with more than his usual deliberation,as he met, for a moment, Mr Blandois’ shining eyes,that Mr Flintwinch had already begun to think this a highlygentlemanly personage. Not the less unyielding with him on which were restless; ‘there is a coffee-house and tavern closethat account, he scraped his chin and said, what could he have here, which, so far, I can recommend; but there’s no stylethe honour of doing for Mr Blandois to-night, out of business about it.’hours?‘I dispense with style!’ said Mr Blandois, waving his hand.‘Faith!’ returned that gentleman, shrugging his cloaked shoulders,‘I must change, and eat and drink, and be lodged some-there (if I am not too troublesome), and I shall be infinitely‘Do me the honour to show me the house, and introduce mewhere. Have the kindness to advise me, a total stranger, where, obliged.’ Mr Flintwinch, upon this, looked up his hat, and lightedand money is a matter of perfect indifference until to-morrow. Mr Blandois across the hall again. As he put the candle on aThe nearer the place, the better. Next door, if that’s all.’ bracket, where the dark old panelling almost served as anMr Flintwinch was slowly beginning, ‘For a gentleman of extinguisher for it, he bethought himself of going up to tell theyour habits, there is not in this immediate neighbourhood any invalid that he would not be absent five minutes. ‘Oblige me,’hotel—’ when Mr Blandois took him up.said the visitor, on his saying so, ‘by presenting my card of‘So much for my habits! my dear sir,’ snapping his fingers. visit. Do me the favour to add that I shall be happy to wait on346

Little Dorrit – Book OneMrs Clennam, to offer my personal compliments, and to two daughters received him; it was much too big for the narrowwainscoted room with a bagatelle-board in it, that wasapologise for having occasioned any agitation in this tranquilcorner, if it should suit her convenience to endure the presence first proposed for his reception; it perfectly swamped the littleof a stranger for a few minutes, after he shall have changed his private holiday sitting-room of the family, which was finallywet clothes and fortified himself with something to eat and given up to him. Here, in dry clothes and scented linen, withdrink.’sleeked hair, a great ring on each forefinger and a massiveJeremiah made all despatch, and said, on his return, ‘She’ll show of watch-chain, Mr Blandois waiting for his dinner, lollingon a window-seat with his knees drawn up, looked (for allbe glad to see you, sir; but, being conscious that her sick roomhas no attractions, wishes me to say that she won’t hold you to the difference in the setting of the jewel) fearfully and wonderfullylike a certain Monsieur Rigaud who had once so waitedyour offer, in case you should think better of it.’‘To think better of it,’ returned the gallant Blandois, ‘would for his breakfast, lying on the stone ledge of the iron grating ofbe to slight a lady; to slight a lady would be to be deficient in a cell in a villainous dungeon at Marseilles.chivalry towards the sex; and chivalry towards the sex is a His greed at dinner, too, was closely in keeping with thepart of my character!’ Thus expressing himself, he threw the greed of Monsieur Rigaud at breakfast. His avaricious mannerdraggled skirt of his cloak over his shoulder, and accompaniedMr Flintwinch to the tavern; taking up on the road a por-with his eyes while devouring others with his jaws, was theof collecting all the eatables about him, and devouring someter who was waiting with his portmanteau on the outer side of same manner. His utter disregard of other people, as shown inthe gateway.his way of tossing the little womanly toys of furniture about,The house was kept in a homely manner, and the condescensionof Mr Blandois was infinite. It seemed to fill to incon-crushing delicate coverings with his big body and his greatflinging favourite cushions under his boots for a softer rest, andvenience the little bar in which the widow landlady and her black head, had the same brute selfishness at the bottom of it.347

Charles DickensThe softly moving hands that were so busy among the dishes of families! You have a quick perception, you have humour,had the old wicked facility of the hands that had clung to the you have ease, you have insinuating manners, you have a goodbars. And when he could eat no more, and sat sucking his appearance; in effect, you are a gentleman! A gentleman youdelicate fingers one by one and wiping them on a cloth, there shall live, my small boy, and a gentleman you shall die. Youwanted nothing but the substitution of vine-leaves to finish the shall win, however the game goes. They shall all confess yourpicture.merit, Blandois. You shall subdue the society which has grievouslywronged you, to your own high spirit. Death of my soul!On this man, with his moustache going up and his nose comingdown in that most evil of smiles, and with his surface eyes You are high spirited by right and by nature, my Blandois!’looking as if they belonged to his dyed hair, and had had their To such soothing murmurs did this gentleman smoke out hisnatural power of reflecting light stopped by some similar process,Nature, always true, and never working in vain, had set shook himself into a sitting attitude; and with the concludingcigar and drink out his bottle of wine. Both being finished, hethe mark, Beware! It was not her fault, if the warning were serious apostrophe, ‘Hold, then! Blandois, you ingenious one,fruitless. She is never to blame in any such instance. have all your wits about you!’ arose and went back to theMr Blandois, having finished his repast and cleaned his fingers,took a cigar from his pocket, and, lying on the window-He was received at the door by Mistress Affery, who, underhouse of Clennam and Co.seat again, smoked it out at his leisure, occasionally instructions from her lord, had lighted up two candles in theapostrophising the smoke as it parted from his thin lips in a thin hall and a third on the staircase, and who conducted him tostream:Mrs Clennam’s room. Tea was prepared there, and such little‘Blandois, you shall turn the tables on society, my little child. company arrangements had been made as usually attendedHaha! Holy blue, you have begun well, Blandois! At a pinch, the reception of expected visitors. They were slight on thean excellent master in English or French; a man for the bosom greatest occasion, never extending beyond the production of348

Little Dorrit – Book Onethe China tea-service, and the covering of the bed with a soberand sad drapery. For the rest, there was the bier-like sofa ‘Mr Flintwinch has been connected with the House manynot the distinguished honour—with the block upon it, and the figure in the widow’s dress, as years.’if attired for execution; the fire topped by the mound of damped Mr Blandois was Mr Flintwinch’s most obedient humble servant.He entreated Mr Flintwinch to receive the assurance ofashes; the grate with its second little mound of ashes; the kettleand the smell of black dye; all as they had been for fifteen his profoundest consideration.years.‘My husband being dead,’ said Mrs Clennam, ‘and my sonMr Flintwinch presented the gentleman commended to the preferring another pursuit, our old House has no other representativein these days than Mr Flintwinch. ‘consideration of Clennam and Co. Mrs Clennam, who hadthe letter lying before her, bent her head and requested him to ‘What do you call yourself?’ was the surly demand of thatsit. They looked very closely at one another. That was but gentleman. ‘You have the head of two men.’natural curiosity. ‘I thank you, sir, for thinking of a disabled ‘My sex disqualifies me,’ she proceeded with merely a slightwoman like me. Few who come here on business have any turn of her eyes in jeremiah’s direction, ‘from taking a responsiblepart in the business, even if I had the ability; and thereforeremembrance to bestow on one so removed from observation.It would be idle to expect that they should have. Out of Mr Flintwinch combines my interest with his own, and conductsit. It is not what it used to be; but some of our old friendssight, out of mind. While I am grateful for the exception, Idon’t complain of the rule. ‘(principally the writers of this letter) have the kindness not toMr Blandois, in his most gentlemanly manner, was afraid he forget us, and we retain the power of doing what they entrusthad disturbed her by unhappily presenting himself at such an to us as efficiently as we ever did. This however is not interestingto you. You are English, sir?’unconscionable time. For which he had already offered hisbest apologies to Mr—he begged pardon—but by name had ‘Faith, madam, no; I am neither born nor bred in England. In349

Charles Dickenseffect, I am of no country,’ said Mr Blandois, stretching out his left hand extended towards the visitor. ‘It ain’t me. It’s him!’leg and smiting it: ‘I descend from half-a-dozen countries.’ ‘What does this good woman mean?’ cried Mr Blandois,‘You have been much about the world?’turning white, hot, and slowly rising with a look of such deadly‘It is true. By Heaven, madam, I have been here and there wrath that it contrasted surprisingly with the slight force of hisand everywhere!’words. ‘How is it possible to understand this good creature?’‘You have no ties, probably. Are not married?’‘It’s not possible,’ said Mr Flintwinch, screwing himself rapidlyin that direction. ‘She don’t know what she means. She’s‘Madam,’ said Mr Blandois, with an ugly fall of his eyebrows,‘I adore your sex, but I am not married—never was.’ an idiot, a wanderer in her mind. She shall have a dose, sheMistress Affery, who stood at the table near him, pouring shall have such a dose! Get along with you, my woman,’ heout the tea, happened in her dreamy state to look at him as he added in her ear, ‘get along with you, while you know you’resaid these words, and to fancy that she caught an expression Affery, and before you’re shaken to yeast.’in his eyes which attracted her own eyes so that she could not Mistress Affery, sensible of the danger in which her identityget them away. The effect of this fancy was to keep her staring stood, relinquished the tea-pot as her husband seized it, putat him with the tea-pot in her hand, not only to her own great her apron over her head, and in a twinkling vanished. Theuneasiness, but manifestly to his, too; and, through them both, visitor gradually broke into a smile, and sat down again.to Mrs Clennam’s and Mr Flintwinch’s. Thus a few ghostly ‘You’ll excuse her, Mr Blandois,’ said Jeremiah, pouring outmoments supervened, when they were all confusedly staring the tea himself, ‘she’s failing and breaking up; that’s what she’swithout knowing why.about. Do you take sugar, sir? ‘‘Affery,’ her mistress was the first to say, ‘what is the matter ‘Thank you, no tea for me.—Pardon my observing it, butwith you?’that’s a very remarkable watch!’‘I don’t know,’ said Mistress Affery, with her disengaged The tea-table was drawn up near the sofa, with a small in-350

Little Dorrit – Book Oneterval between it and Mrs Clennam’s own particular table. Mr Mr Flintwinch, who had been observantly pausing all thisBlandois in his gallantry had risen to hand that lady her tea (her time with a cup of tea in his hand, and his mouth open ready todish of toast was already there), and it was in placing the cup swallow the contents, began to do so: always entirely filling hisconveniently within her reach that the watch, lying before her mouth before he emptied it at a gulp; and always deliberatingas it always did, attracted his attention. Mrs Clennam looked again before he refilled it.suddenly up at him.‘D. N. F. was some tender, lovely, fascinating fair-creature,‘May I be permitted? Thank you. A fine old-fashioned I make no doubt,’ observed Mr Blandois, as he snapped onwatch,’ he said, taking it in his hand. ‘Heavy for use, but massiveand genuine. I have a partiality for everything genuine. fortunately for my peace of mind, I adore but too readily. Itthe case again. ‘I adore her memory on the assumption. Un-Such as I am, I am genuine myself. Hah! A gentleman’s watch may be a vice, it may be a virtue, but adoration of femalewith two cases in the old fashion. May I remove it from the beauty and merit constitutes three parts of my character,outer case? Thank you. Aye? An old silk watch-lining, worked madam.’with beads! I have often seen these among old Dutch people Mr Flintwinch had by this time poured himself out anotherand Belgians. Quaint things!’cup of tea, which he was swallowing in gulps as before, with‘They are old-fashioned, too,’ said Mrs Clennam. ‘Very. his eyes directed to the invalid.But this is not so old as the watch, I think?’‘You may be heart-free here, sir,’ she returned to Mr‘I think not.’Blandois. ‘Those letters are not intended, I believe, for the‘Extraordinary how they used to complicate these cyphers!’ initials of any name.’remarked Mr Blandois, glancing up with his own smile again. ‘Of a motto, perhaps,’ said Mr Blandois, casually.‘Now is this D. N. F.? It might be almost anything.’‘Of a sentence. They have always stood, I believe, for Do‘Those are the letters.’Not Forget!’351

Charles Dickens‘And naturally,’ said Mr Blandois, replacing the watch and ‘All expressed, madam,’ said Mr Blandois, with his smoothestbow and his white hand on his breast, ‘by the word “natu-stepping backward to his former chair, ‘you do not forget.’Mr Flintwinch, finishing his tea, not only took a longer gulp rally,” which I am proud to have had sufficient apprehensionthan he had taken yet, but made his succeeding pause under and appreciation (but without appreciation I could not benew circumstances: that is to say, with his head thrown back Blandois) to employ.’and his cup held still at his lips, while his eyes were still directedat the invalid. She had that force of face, and that con-gentleman of pleasure, and change, and politeness, accustomed‘Pardon me, sir,’ she returned, ‘if I doubt the likelihood of acentrated air of collecting her firmness or obstinacy, which representedin her case what would have been gesture and action ‘Oh madam! By Heaven!’to court and to be courted—’in another, as she replied with her deliberate strength of speech: ‘—If I doubt the likelihood of such a character quite comprehendingwhat belongs to mine in my circumstances. Not to‘No, sir, I do not forget. To lead a life as monotonous as minehas been during many years, is not the way to forget. To lead obtrude doctrine upon you,’ she looked at the rigid pile ofa life of self-correction is not the way to forget. To be sensible hard pale books before her, ‘(for you go your own way, andof having (as we all have, every one of us, all the children of the consequences are on your own head), I will say this much:Adam!) offences to expiate and peace to make, does not justifythe desire to forget. Therefore I have long dismissed it, and pilots, under whom I cannot be shipwrecked—can not be—that I shape my course by pilots, strictly by proved and triedI neither forget nor wish to forget.’and that if I were unmindful of the admonition conveyed inMr Flintwinch, who had latterly been shaking the sediment at those three letters, I should not be half as chastened as I am.’the bottom of his tea-cup, round and round, here gulped it down, It was curious how she seized the occasion to argue withand putting the cup in the tea-tray, as done with, turned his eyes some invisible opponent. Perhaps with her own better sense,upon Mr Blandois as if to ask him what he thought of that? always turning upon herself and her own deception.352

Little Dorrit – Book One‘If I forgot my ignorances in my life of health and freedom, I Mr Blandois, during this exposition, had been strictly attentive,keeping his eyes fastened on the lady, and thoughtfullymight complain of the life to which I am now condemned. Inever do; I never have done. If I forgot that this scene, the stroking his moustache with his two hands. Mr Flintwinch hadEarth, is expressly meant to be a scene of gloom, and hardship,and dark trial, for the creatures who are made out of its ‘There, there, there!’ said he. ‘That is quite understood, Mrsbeen a little fidgety, and now struck in.dust, I might have some tenderness for its vanities. But I have Clennam, and you have spoken piously and well. Mr Blandois,no such tenderness. If I did not know that we are, every one, I suspect, is not of a pious cast.’ ‘On the contrary, sir!’ thatthe subject (most justly the subject) of a wrath that must be gentleman protested, snapping his fingers. ‘Your pardon! It’ssatisfied, and against which mere actions are nothing, I might a part of my character. I am sensitive, ardent, conscientious,repine at the difference between me, imprisoned here, and the and imaginative. A sensitive, ardent, conscientious, and imaginativeman, Mr Flintwinch, must be that, or nothing!’people who pass that gateway yonder. But I take it as a graceand favour to be elected to make the satisfaction I am making There was an inkling of suspicion in Mr Flintwinch’s facehere, to know what I know for certain here, and to work out that he might be nothing, as he swaggered out of his chair (itwhat I have worked out here. My affliction might otherwise was characteristic of this man, as it is of all men similarly marked,have had no meaning to me. Hence I would forget, and I do that whatever he did, he overdid, though it were sometimes byforget, nothing. Hence I am contented, and say it is better with only a hairsbreadth), and approached to take his leave of Mrsme than with millions.’ As she spoke these words, she put her Clennam.hand upon the watch, and restored it to the precise spot on ‘With what will appear to you the egotism of a sick oldher little table which it always occupied. With her touch lingeringupon it, she sat for some moments afterwards, looking at it dental allusion, I have been led away into the subject of myselfwoman, sir,’ she then said, ‘though really through your acci-steadily and half-defiantly.and my infirmities. Being so considerate as to visit me, I hope353

Charles Dickensyou will be likewise so considerate as to overlook that. Don’t not worth your looking at.’But Mr Blandois, smiting him in acompliment me, if you please.’ For he was evidently going to friendly manner on the back, only laughed; so the said Blandoisdo it. ‘Mr Flintwinch will be happy to render you any service, kissed his hand again to Mrs Clennam, and they went out ofand I hope your stay in this city may prove agreeable.’ the room together.Mr Blandois thanked her, and kissed his hand several times. ‘You don’t care to go up-stairs?’ said Jeremiah, on the landing.‘On the contrary, Mr Flintwinch; if not tiresome to you, I‘This is an old room,’ he remarked, with a sudden sprightlinessof manner, looking round when he got near the door, ‘I shall be ravished!’have been so interested that I have not observed it. But it’s a Mr Flintwinch, therefore, wormed himself up the staircase,genuine old room.’and Mr Blandois followed close. They ascended to the great‘It is a genuine old house,’ said Mrs Clennam, with her frozensmile. ‘A place of no pretensions, but a piece of antiquity.’ his return. ‘There, Mr Blandois!’ said Jeremiah, showing it, ‘Igarret bed-room which Arthur had occupied on the night of‘Faith!’ cried the visitor. ‘If Mr Flintwinch would do me the hope you may think that worth coming so high to see. I confessI don’t.’favour to take me through the rooms on my way out, he couldhardly oblige me more. An old house is a weakness with me. I Mr Blandois being enraptured, they walked through otherhave many weaknesses, but none greater. I love and study the garrets and passages, and came down the staircase again. Bypicturesque in all its varieties. I have been called picturesque this time Mr Flintwinch had remarked that he never found themyself. It is no merit to be picturesque—I have greater merits, visitor looking at any room, after throwing one quick glanceperhaps—but I may be, by an accident. Sympathy, sympathy!’Flintwinch. With this discovery in his thoughts, he turned aboutaround, but always found the visitor looking at him, Mr‘I tell you beforehand, Mr Blandois, that you’ll find it very on the staircase for another experiment. He met his eyes directly;and on the instant of their fixing one another, the dingy and very bare,’ said Jeremiah, taking up the candle. ‘It’svisitor,354

Little Dorrit – Book Onewith that ugly play of nose and moustache, laughed (as he had ‘It’s a portrait, sir, as you observe.’done at every similar moment since they left Mrs Clennam’s ‘May I ask the subject, Mr Flintwinch?’chamber) a diabolically silent laugh.‘Mr Clennam, deceased. Her husband.’ ‘Former owner ofAs a much shorter man than the visitor, Mr Flintwinch was the remarkable watch, perhaps?’ said the visitor.at the physical disadvantage of being thus disagreeably leered Mr Flintwinch, who had cast his eyes towards the portrait,at from a height; and as he went first down the staircase, and twisted himself about again, and again found himself the subjectwas usually a step or two lower than the other, this disadvantagewas at the time increased. He postponed looking at Mr ‘It was his, and his uncle’s before him, and Lord knows whoof the same look and smile. ‘Yes, Mr Blandois,’ he replied tartly.Blandois again until this accidental inequality was removed by before him; and that’s all I can tell you of its pedigree.’their having entered the late Mr Clennam’s room. But, then ‘That’s a strongly marked character, Mr Flintwinch, our friendtwisting himself suddenly round upon him, he found his look up-stairs.’unchanged.‘Yes, sir,’ said Jeremiah, twisting himself at the visitor again,‘A most admirable old house,’ smiled Mr Blandois. ‘So mysterious.Do you never hear any haunted noises here?’ machine that fell short of its grip; for the other never changed,as he did during the whole of this dialogue, like some screw-‘Noises,’ returned Mr Flintwinch. ‘No.’and he always felt obliged to retreat a little. ‘She is a remarkablewoman. Great fortitude—great strength of mind.’‘Nor see any devils?’‘Not,’ said Mr Flintwinch, grimly screwing himself at his questioner,‘not any that introduce themselves under that name and ‘Who?’ demanded Mr Flintwinch, with another screw at‘They must have been very happy,’ said Blandois.in that capacity.’him.‘Haha! A portrait here, I see.’Mr Blandois shook his right forefinger towards the sick room,(Still looking at Mr Flintwinch, as if he were the portrait.) and his left forefinger towards the portrait, and then, putting355

Charles Dickenshis arms akimbo and striding his legs wide apart, stood smiling ‘But, favour me with the candle a moment,’ he said, whendown at Mr Flintwinch with the advancing nose and the retreatingmoustache.markable lady. Hah!’ holding up the light at arm’s length. ‘Ahe had done. ‘Let us have a look at the husband of the re-‘As happy as most other married people, I suppose,’ returnedMr Flintwinch. ‘I can’t say. I don’t know. There are character. Looks as if he were saying, what is it—Do Notdecided expression of face here too, though not of the samesecrets in all families.’Forget—does he not, Mr Flintwinch?‘Secrets!’ cried Mr Blandois, quickly. ‘Say it again, my son.’ By Heaven, sir, he does!’‘I say,’ replied Mr Flintwinch, upon whom he had swelled As he returned the candle, he looked at him once more; andhimself so suddenly that Mr Flintwinch found his face almost then, leisurely strolling out with him into the hall, declared it tobrushed by the dilated chest. ‘I say there are secrets in all be a charming old house indeed, and one which had so greatlyfamilies.’pleased him that he would not have missed inspecting it for a‘So there are,’ cried the other, clapping him on both shoulders,and rolling him backwards and forwards. ‘Haha! you part of Mr Blandois, which involved a general alteration in hishundred pounds. Throughout these singular freedoms on theare right. So there are! Secrets! Holy Blue! There are the devil’s demeanour, making it much coarser and rougher, much moreown secrets in some families, Mr Flintwinch!’ With that, after violent and audacious than before, Mr Flintwinch, whose leathernface was not liable to many changes, preserved its immo-clapping Mr Flintwinch on both shoulders several times, as ifin a friendly and humorous way he were rallying him on a joke bility intact. Beyond now appearing perhaps, to have been lefthe had made, he threw up his arms, threw back his head, hanging a trifle too long before that friendly operation of cuttingdown, he outwardly maintained an equable composure.hooked his hands together behind it, and burst into a roar oflaughter. It was in vain for Mr Flintwinch to try another screw They had brought their survey to a close in the little room atat him. He had his laugh out.the side of the hall, and he stood there, eyeing Mr Blandois.356

Little Dorrit – Book One‘I am glad you are so well satisfied, sir,’ was his calm remark.‘I didn’t expect it. You seem to be quite in good spirits.’ his own, and invited him to come off and drink a bottle of wineabout a little in his former merry way, then drew his arm through‘In admirable spirits,’ returned Blandois. ‘Word of honour! like a dear deep old dog as he was.never more refreshed in spirits. Do you ever have presentiments,Mr Flintwinch?’invitation, and they went out to the quarters where the travellerWithout a moment’s indecision, Mr Flintwinch accepted the‘I am not sure that I know what you mean by the term, sir,’ was lodged, through a heavy rain which had rattled on thereplied that gentleman.windows, roofs, and pavements, ever since nightfall. The thunderand lightning had long ago passed over, but the rain was‘Say, in this case, Mr Flintwinch, undefined anticipations ofpleasure to come.’furious. On their arrival at Mr Blandois’ room, a bottle of port‘I can’t say I’m sensible of such a sensation at present,’ wine was ordered by that gallant gentleman; who (crushingreturned Mr Flintwinch with the utmost gravity. ‘If I should every pretty thing he could collect, in the soft disposition of hisfind it coming on, I’ll mention it.’dainty figure) coiled himself upon the window-seat, while Mr‘Now I,’ said Blandois, ‘I, my son, have a presentiment tonightthat we shall be well acquainted. Do you find it coming tween them. Mr Blandois proposed having the largest glassesFlintwinch took a chair opposite to him, with the table be-on?’in the house, to which Mr Flintwinch assented. The bumpers‘N-no,’ returned Mr Flintwinch, deliberately inquiring of himself.‘I can’t say I do.’his glass against the bottom of Mr Flintwinch’s, and the bot-filled, Mr Blandois, with a roystering gaiety, clinked the top of‘I have a strong presentiment that we shall become intimately tom of his glass against the top of Mr Flintwinch’s, and drankacquainted.—You have no feeling of that sort yet?’to the intimate acquaintance he foresaw.‘Not yet,’ said Mr Flintwinch.Mr Flintwinch gravely pledged him, and drank all the wineMr Blandois, taking him by both shoulders again, rolled him he could get, and said nothing. As often as Mr Blandois clinked357

Charles Dickensglasses (which was at every replenishment), Mr Flintwinch stolidlydid his part of the clinking, and would have stolidly done gone back to the Continent by way of Calais. Nevertheless,Flintwinch found, with surprise, that he had paid his bill andhis companion’s part of the wine as well as his own: being, Jeremiah scraped out of his cogitating face a lively convictionexcept in the article of palate, a mere cask.that Mr Blandois would keep his word on this occasion, andIn short, Mr Blandois found that to pour port wine into the would be seen again.reticent Flintwinch was, not to open him but to shut him up.Moreover, he had the appearance of a perfect ability to go onCHAPTER 31 Spiritall night; or, if occasion were, all next day and all next night;whereas Mr Blandois soon grew indistinctly conscious of swaggeringtoo fiercely and boastfully. He therefore terminated theANYBODY MAY PASS, any day, in the thronged thoroughfares ofthe metropolis, some meagre, wrinkled, yellow old man (whoentertainment at the end of the third bottle.might be supposed to have dropped from the stars, if there‘You will draw upon us to-morrow, sir,’ said Mr Flintwinch,were any star in the Heavens dull enough to be suspected ofwith a business-like face at parting.casting off so feeble a spark), creeping along with a scared air,‘My Cabbage,’ returned the other, taking him by the collaras though bewildered and a little frightened by the noise andwith both hands, ‘I’ll draw upon you; have no fear. Adieu, mybustle. This old man is always a little old man. If he were everFlintwinch. Receive at parting;’ here he gave him a southerna big old man, he has shrunk into a little old man; if he wereembrace, and kissed him soundly on both cheeks; ‘the wordalways a little old man, he has dwindled into a less old man.of a gentleman! By a thousand Thunders, you shall see meHis coat is a colour, and cut, that never was the mode anywhere,at any period. Clearly, it was not made for him, or foragain!’He did not present himself next day, though the letter of advicecame duly to hand. Inquiring after him at night, Mrany individual mortal. Some wholesale contractor measuredFate for five thousand coats of such quality, and Fate has lent358

Little Dorrit – Book Onethis old coat to this old man, as one of a long unfinished line of be the lapse of a longer time than usual before he shall passmany old men. It has always large dull metal buttons, similar to again. For the little old man is going home to the Workhouse;no other buttons. This old man wears a hat, a thumbed and and on his good behaviour they do not let him out often (thoughnapless and yet an obdurate hat, which has never adapted methinks they might, considering the few years he has beforeitself to the shape of his poor head. His coarse shirt and his him to go out in, under the sun); and on his bad behaviour theycoarse neckcloth have no more individuality than his coat and shut him up closer than ever in a grove of two score and nineteenmore old men, every one of whom smells of all the others.hat; they have the same character of not being his—of notbeing anybody’s. Yet this old man wears these clothes with acertain unaccustomed air of being dressed and elaborated for MRS PLORNISH’S FATHER,—a poor little reedy piping old gentleman,like a worn-out bird; who had been in what he called thethe public ways; as though he passed the greater part of histime in a nightcap and gown. And so, like the country mouse in music-binding business, and met with great misfortunes, andthe second year of a famine, come to see the town mouse, and who had seldom been able to make his way, or to see it or totimidly threading his way to the town-mouse’s lodging through pay it, or to do anything at all with it but find it no thoroughfare,—hadretired of his own accord to the Workhouse whicha city of cats, this old man passes in the streets.Sometimes, on holidays towards evening, he will be seen to was appointed by law to be the Good Samaritan of his districtwalk with a slightly increased infirmity, and his old eyes will (without the twopence, which was bad political economy), onglimmer with a moist and marshy light. Then the little old man the settlement of that execution which had carried Mr Plornishis drunk. A very small measure will overset him; he may be to the Marshalsea College. Previous to his son-in-law’s difficultiescoming to that head, Old Nandy (he was always sobowled off his unsteady legs with a half-pint pot. Some pityingacquaintance—chance acquaintance very often—has warmed called in his legal Retreat, but he was Old Mr Nandy amongup his weakness with a treat of beer, and the consequence will the Bleeding Hearts) had sat in a corner of the Plornish fire-359

Charles Dickensside, and taken his bite and sup out of the Plornish cupboard. with meat, and had taken his full halfpenny-worth of porter, toHe still hoped to resume that domestic position when Fortune say, ‘Sing us a song, Father.’ Then he would give them Chloe,should smile upon his son-in-law; in the meantime, while she and if he were in pretty good spirits, Phyllis also—Strephonpreserved an immovable countenance, he was, and resolved he had hardly been up to since he went into retirement—andto remain, one of these little old men in a grove of little old men then would Mrs Plornish declare she did believe there neverwith a community of flavour.was such a singer as Father, and wipe her eyes.But no poverty in him, and no coat on him that never was the If he had come from Court on these occasions, nay, if hemode, and no Old Men’s Ward for his dwelling-place, could had been the noble Refrigerator come home triumphantly fromquench his daughter’s admiration. Mrs Plornish was as proud a foreign court to be presented and promoted on his last tremendousfailure, Mrs Plornish could not have handed him withof her father’s talents as she could possibly have been if theyhad made him Lord Chancellor. She had as firm a belief in the greater elevation about Bleeding Heart Yard. ‘Here’s Father,’sweetness and propriety of his manners as she could possibly she would say, presenting him to a neighbour. ‘Father will soonhave had if he had been Lord Chamberlain. The poor little old be home with us for good, now. Ain’t Father looking well?man knew some pale and vapid little songs, long out of date, Father’s a sweeter singer than ever; you’d never have forgottenit, if you’d aheard him just now.’about Chloe, and Phyllis, and Strephon being wounded by theson of Venus; and for Mrs Plornish there was no such music at As to Mr Plornish, he had married these articles of belief inthe Opera as the small internal flutterings and chirpings wherein marrying Mr Nandy’s daughter, and only wondered how ithe would discharge himself of these ditties, like a weak, little, was that so gifted an old gentleman had not made a fortune.broken barrel-organ, ground by a baby. On his ‘days out,’ This he attributed, after much reflection, to his musical geniusthose flecks of light in his flat vista of pollard old men,’ it was not having been scientifically developed in his youth. ‘For why,’at once Mrs Plornish’s delight and sorrow, when he was strong argued Mr Plornish, ‘why go a-binding music when you’ve360

Little Dorrit – Book Onegot it in yourself? That’s where it is, I consider.’on his decayed condition after he was gone. It appeared toOld Nandy had a patron: one patron. He had a patron who him amazing that he could hold up his head at all, poor creature.‘In the Workhouse, sir, the Union; no privacy, no visitors,in a certain sumptuous way—an apologetic way, as if he constantlytook an admiring audience to witness that he really could no station, no respect, no speciality. Most deplorable!’not help being more free with this old fellow than they might It was Old Nandy’s birthday, and they let him out. He saidhave expected, on account of his simplicity and poverty—was nothing about its being his birthday, or they might have keptmightily good to him. Old Nandy had been several times to the him in; for such old men should not be born. He passed alongMarshalsea College, communicating with his son-in-law duringhis short durance there; and had happily acquired to him-with his daughter and son-in-law, and gave them Phyllis. Hethe streets as usual to Bleeding Heart Yard, and had his dinnerself, and had by degrees and in course of time much improved, had hardly concluded, when Little Dorrit looked in to see howthe patronage of the Father of that national institution. they all were.Mr Dorrit was in the habit of receiving this old man as if the ‘Miss Dorrit,’ said Mrs Plornish, ‘here’s Father! Ain’t heold man held of him in vassalage under some feudal tenure. He looking nice? And such voice he’s in!’made little treats and teas for him, as if he came in with his Little Dorrit gave him her hand, and smilingly said she hadhomage from some outlying district where the tenantry were in not seen him this long time.a primitive state.‘No, they’re rather hard on poor Father,’ said Mrs PlornishIt seemed as if there were moments when he could by no with a lengthening face, ‘and don’t let him have half as muchmeans have sworn but that the old man was an ancient retainer change and fresh air as would benefit him. But he’ll soon beof his, who had been meritoriously faithful. When he mentionedhim, he spoke of him casually as his old pensioner. He ‘Yes, my dear, I hope so. In good time, please God.’home for good, now. Won’t you, Father?’had a wonderful satisfaction in seeing him, and in commenting Here Mr Plornish delivered himself of an oration which he361

Charles Dickensinvariably made, word for word the same, on all such opportunities.Mrs Plornish, who had been turning her face a little awaysoon they can not come, no Thomas, no!’It was couched in the following terms:with a corner of her apron in her hand, brought herself back to‘John Edward Nandy. Sir. While there’s a ounce of wittles the conversation again by telling Miss Dorrit that Father wasor drink of any sort in this present roof, you’re fully welcome going over the water to pay his respects, unless she knew ofto your share on it. While there’s a handful of fire or a mouthful any reason why it might not be agreeable.of bed in this present roof, you’re fully welcome to your share Her answer was, ‘I am going straight home, and if he willon it.come with me I shall be so glad to take care of him—so glad,’If so be as there should be nothing in this present roof, you said Little Dorrit, always thoughtful of the feelings of the weak,should be as welcome to your share on it as if it was something,much or little. And this is what I mean and so I don’t ‘There, Father!’ cried Mrs Plornish. ‘Ain’t you a gay young‘of his company.’deceive you, and consequently which is to stand out is to entreatof you, and therefore why not do it?’your neck-handkerchief into a regular good bow, for you’re aman to be going for a walk along with Miss Dorrit! Let me tieTo this lucid address, which Mr Plornish always delivered regular beau yourself, Father, if ever there was one.’as if he had composed it (as no doubt he had) with enormous With this filial joke his daughter smartened him up, and gavelabour, Mrs Plornish’s father pipingly replied:him a loving hug, and stood at the door with her weak child in‘I thank you kindly, Thomas, and I know your intentions her arms, and her strong child tumbling down the steps, lookingafter her little old father as he toddled away with his armwell, which is the same I thank you kindly for. But no, Thomas.Until such times as it’s not to take it out of your children’s under Little Dorrit’s.mouths, which take it is, and call it by what name you will it do They walked at a slow pace, and Little Dorrit took him byremain and equally deprive, though may they come, and too the Iron Bridge and sat him down there for a rest, and they362

Little Dorrit – Book Onelooked over at the water and talked about the shipping, and knew such a thing. The way in which you are resolved andthe old man mentioned what he would do if he had a ship full determined to disgrace us on all occasions, is really infamous.of gold coming home to him (his plan was to take a noble You bad little thing!’lodging for the Plornishes and himself at a Tea Gardens, and ‘Does it disgrace anybody,’ said Little Dorrit, very gently,live there all the rest of their lives, attended on by the waiter), ‘to take care of this poor old man?’and it was a special birthday of the old man. They were within ‘Yes, miss,’ returned her sister, ‘and you ought to know itfive minutes of their destination, when, at the corner of her does. And you do know it does, and you do it because youown street, they came upon Fanny in her new bonnet bound know it does. The principal pleasure of your life is to remindfor the same port.your family of their misfortunes. And the next great pleasure of‘Why, good gracious me, Amy!’ cried that young lady starting.‘You never mean it!’have no sense of decency, I have. You’ll please to allow me toyour existence is to keep low company. But, however, if you‘Mean what, Fanny dear?’go on the other side of the way, unmolested.’‘Well! I could have believed a great deal of you,’ returned With this, she bounced across to the opposite pavement.the young lady with burning indignation, ‘but I don’t think even The old disgrace, who had been deferentially bowing a paceI could have believed this, of even you!’or two off (for Little Dorrit had let his arm go in her wonder,‘Fanny!’ cried Little Dorrit, wounded and astonished. when Fanny began), and who had been hustled and cursed by‘Oh! Don’t Fanny me, you mean little thing, don’t! The idea impatient passengers for stopping the way, rejoined his companion,rather giddy, and said, ‘I hope nothing’s wrong withof coming along the open streets, in the broad light of day, witha Pauper!’ (firing off the last word as if it were a ball from an your honoured father, Miss? I hope there’s nothing the matterair-gun). ‘O Fanny!’in the honoured family?’‘I tell you not to Fanny me, for I’ll not submit to it! I never ‘No, no,’ returned Little Dorrit. ‘No, thank you. Give me363

Charles Dickensyour arm again, Mr Nandy. We shall soon be there now.’ ‘What is it, father?’ cried Little Dorrit, bending over him.So she talked to him as she had talked before, and they ‘Have I made you unhappy, father? Not I, I hope!’came to the Lodge and found Mr Chivery on the lock, and ‘You hope, indeed! I dare say! Oh, you’—Fanny pausedwent in. Now, it happened that the Father of the Marshalsea for a sufficiently strong expression—’you Common-mindedwas sauntering towards the Lodge at the moment when they little Amy! You complete prison-child!’were coming out of it, entering the prison arm in arm. As the He stopped these angry reproaches with a wave of his hand,spectacle of their approach met his view, he displayed the utmostagitation and despondency of mind; and—altogether re-head at his younger daughter, ‘Amy, I know that you are inno-and sobbed out, raising his face and shaking his melancholygardless of Old Nandy, who, making his reverence, stood with cent in intention. But you have cut me to the soul.’ ‘Innocent inhis hat in his hand, as he always did in that gracious presence—turnedabout, and hurried in at his own doorway and Low in intention! Lowering of the family in intention!’intention!’ the implacable Fanny struck in. ‘Stuff in intention!up the staircase.‘Father!’ cried Little Dorrit, pale and trembling. ‘I am veryLeaving the old unfortunate, whom in an evil hour she had sorry. Pray forgive me. Tell me how it is, that I may not do ittaken under her protection, with a hurried promise to return to again!’him directly, Little Dorrit hastened after her father, and, on the ‘How it is, you prevaricating little piece of goods!’ criedstaircase, found Fanny following her, and flouncing up with Fanny. ‘You know how it is. I have told you already, so don’toffended dignity. The three came into the room almost together; fly in the face of Providence by attempting to deny it!’and the Father sat down in his chair, buried his face in his ‘Hush! Amy,’ said the father, passing his pocket-handkerchiefseveral times across his face, and then grasping it convul-hands, and uttered a groan.‘Of course,’ said Fanny. ‘Very proper. Poor, afflicted Pa! sively in the hand that dropped across his knee, ‘I have doneNow, I hope you believe me, Miss?’what I could to keep you select here; I have done what I could364

Little Dorrit – Book Oneto retain you a position here. I may have succeeded; I may look it. But if I had not known that you were kind to the oldnot. You may know it; you may not. I give no opinion. I have man yourself, and took much notice of him, and were alwaysendured everything here but humiliation. That I have happily glad to see him, I would not have come here with him, father,been spared—until this day.’I would not, indeed. What I have been so unhappy as to do, IHere his convulsive grasp unclosed itself, and he put his have done in mistake. I would not wilfully bring a tear to yourpocket-handkerchief to his eyes again. Little Dorrit, on the eyes, dear love!’ said Little Dorrit, her heart well-nigh broken,ground beside him, with her imploring hand upon his arm, ‘for anything the world could give me, or anything it could takewatched him remorsefully. Coming out of his fit of grief, he away.’clenched his pocket-handkerchief once more.Fanny, with a partly angry and partly repentant sob, began‘Humiliation I have happily been spared until this day. Through to cry herself, and to say—as this young lady always said whenall my troubles there has been that—Spirit in myself, and that— she was half in passion and half out of it, half spiteful withthat submission to it, if I may use the term, in those about me, herself and half spiteful with everybody else—that she wishedwhich has spared me—ha—humiliation. But this day, this she were dead.minute, I have keenly felt it.’The Father of the Marshalsea in the meantime took his‘Of course! How could it be otherwise?’ exclaimed the irrepressibleFanny. ‘Careering and prancing about with a Pau-there! Say no more, Amy, say no more, my child. I will forgetyounger daughter to his breast, and patted her head. ‘There,per!’ (air-gun again).it as soon as I can. I,’ with hysterical cheerfulness, ‘I—shall‘But, dear father,’ cried Little Dorrit, ‘I don’t justify myself soon be able to dismiss it. It is perfectly true, my dear, that Ifor having wounded your dear heart—no! Heaven knows I am always glad to see my old pensioner—as such, as such—don’t!’ She clasped her hands in quite an agony of distress. ‘I and that I do—ha—extend as much protection and kindnessdo nothing but beg and pray you to be comforted and over-to the—hum—the bruised reed—I trust I may so call him with-365

Charles Dickensout impropriety—as in my circumstances, I can. It is quite true ‘A letter for you, sir, being left in the Lodge just this minute,that this is the case, my dear child. At the same time, I preservein doing this, if I may—ha—if I may use the expres-sir, I would bring it to your room.’ The speaker’s attentionand a message with it, I thought, happening to be there myself,sion—Spirit. Becoming Spirit. And there are some things which was much distracted by the piteous spectacle of Little Dorritare,’ he stopped to sob, ‘irreconcilable with that, and wound at her father’s feet, with her head turned away.that—wound it deeply.‘Indeed, John? Thank you.’It is not that I have seen my good Amy attentive, and—ha— ‘The letter is from Mr Clennam, sir—it’s the answer—andcondescending to my old pensioner—it is not that that hurts the message was, sir, that Mr Clennam also sent his compliments,and word that he would do himself the pleasure of call-me. It is, if I am to close the painful subject by being explicit,that I have seen my child, my own child, my own daughter, ing this afternoon, hoping to see you, and likewise,’ attentioncoming into this College out of the public streets—smiling! more distracted than before, ‘Miss Amy.’smiling!—arm in arm with—O my God, a livery!’‘Oh!’ As the Father glanced into the letter (there was a banknotein it), he reddened a little, and patted Amy on the headThis reference to the coat of no cut and no time, the unfortunategentleman gasped forth, in a scarcely audible voice, and afresh. ‘Thank you, Young John. Quite right. Much obliged towith his clenched pocket-handkerchief raised in the air. His excitedfeelings might have found some further painful utterance, ‘No, sir, no one waiting.’you for your attention. No one waiting?’but for a knock at the door, which had been already twice repeated,and to which Fanny (still wishing herself dead, and in-‘Thank you, sir, she’s not quite as well as we could wish—‘Thank you, John. How is your mother, Young John?’deed now going so far as to add, buried) cried ‘Come in!’ in fact, we none of us are, except father—but she’s pretty‘Ah, Young John!’ said the Father, in an altered and calmed well, sir.’ ‘Say we sent our remembrances, will you? Say kindvoice. ‘What is it, Young John?’remembrances, if you please, Young John.’366

Little Dorrit – Book One‘Thank you, sir, I will.’ And Mr Chivery junior went his way, Amy, and make yourself look comfortable and pleasant to receiveMr Clennam.’having spontaneously composed on the spot an entirely newepitaph for himself, to the effect that Here lay the body of John ‘I would rather stay in my own room, Father,’ returned LittleChivery, Who, Having at such a date, Beheld the idol of his Dorrit, finding it more difficult than before to regain her composure.‘I would far rather not see Mr Clennam.’life, In grief and tears, And feeling unable to bear the harrowingspectacle, Immediately repaired to the abode of his inconsolableparents, And terminated his existence by his own rash gentlemanly man—very gentlemanly. A little reserved at times;‘Oh, fie, fie, my dear, that’s folly. Mr Clennam is a veryact.but I will say extremely gentlemanly. I couldn’t think of your‘There, there, Amy!’ said the Father, when Young John had not being here to receive Mr Clennam, my dear, especiallyclosed the door, ‘let us say no more about it.’ The last few this afternoon. So go and freshen yourself up, Amy; go andminutes had improved his spirits remarkably, and he was quite freshen yourself up, like a good girl.’lightsome. ‘Where is my old pensioner all this while? We must Thus directed, Little Dorrit dutifully rose and obeyed: onlynot leave him by himself any longer, or he will begin to supposehe is not welcome, and that would pain me. Will you sister a kiss of reconciliation. Upon which, that young lady,pausing for a moment as she went out of the room, to give herfetch him, my child, or shall I?’feeling much harassed in her mind, and having for the time‘If you wouldn’t mind, father,’ said Little Dorrit, trying to worn out the wish with which she generally relieved it, conceivedand executed the brilliant idea of wishing Old Nandybring her sobbing to a close.‘Certainly I will go, my dear. I forgot; your eyes are rather dead, rather than that he should come bothering there like ared.disgusting, tiresome, wicked wretch, and making mischief betweentwo sisters.There! Cheer up, Amy. Don’t be uneasy about me. I amquite myself again, my love, quite myself. Go to your room, The Father of the Marshalsea, even humming a tune, and367

Charles Dickenswearing his black velvet cap a little on one side, so much improvedwere his spirits, went down into the yard, and found join their meal.himself; whom he most graciously received, and besought tohis old pensioner standing there hat in hand just within the gate, ‘Amy, my love, you know Mr Clennam even better than Ias he had stood all this time. ‘Come, Nandy!’ said he, with have the happiness of doing. Fanny, my dear, you are acquaintedwith Mr Clennam.’ Fanny acknowledged him haugh-great suavity. ‘Come up-stairs, Nandy; you know the way;why don’t you come up-stairs?’ He went the length, on this tily; the position she tacitly took up in all such cases being thatoccasion, of giving him his hand and saying, ‘How are you, there was a vast conspiracy to insult the family by not understandingit, or sufficiently deferring to it, and here was one ofNandy? Are you pretty well?’ To which that vocalist returned,‘I thank you, honoured sir, I am all the better for seeing your the conspirators.honour.’ As they went along the yard, the Father of the ‘This, Mr Clennam, you must know, is an old pensioner ofMarshalsea presented him to a Collegian of recent date. ‘An mine, Old Nandy, a very faithful old man.’ (He always spokeold acquaintance of mine, sir, an old pensioner.’ And then said, of him as an object of great antiquity, but he was two or three‘Be covered, my good Nandy; put your hat on,’ with great years younger than himself.) ‘Let me see. You know Plornish,consideration.I think? I think my daughter Amy has mentioned to me thatHis patronage did not stop here; for he charged Maggy to you know poor Plornish?’get the tea ready, and instructed her to buy certain tea-cakes, ‘O yes!’ said Arthur Clennam.fresh butter, eggs, cold ham, and shrimps: to purchase which ‘Well, sir, this is Mrs Plornish’s father.’collation he gave her a bank-note for ten pounds, laying strict ‘Indeed? I am glad to see him.’injunctions on her to be careful of the change. These preparationswere in an advanced stage of progress, and his daughter ties, Mr Clennam.’‘You would be more glad if you knew his many good quali-Amy had come back with her work, when Clennam presented ‘I hope I shall come to know them through knowing him,’368

Little Dorrit – Book Onesaid Arthur, secretly pitying the bowed and submissive figure. ings, as if he were a gracious Keeper making a running commentaryon the decline of the harmless animal he exhibited.‘It is a holiday with him, and he comes to see his old friends,who are always glad to see him,’ observed the Father of the ‘Not ready for more ham yet, Nandy? Why, how slow youMarshalsea.are! (His last teeth,’ he explained to the company, ‘are going,Then he added behind his hand, (‘Union, poor old fellow. poor old boy.’)Out for the day.’)At another time, he said, ‘No shrimps, Nandy?’ and on hisBy this time Maggy, quietly assisted by her Little Mother, not instantly replying, observed, (‘His hearing is becoming veryhad spread the board, and the repast was ready. It being hot defective. He’ll be deaf directly.’)weather and the prison very close, the window was as wide At another time he asked him, ‘Do you walk much, Nandy,open as it could be pushed. ‘If Maggy will spread that newspaperon the window-sill, my dear,’ remarked the Father com-‘No, sir; no. I haven’t any great liking for that.’about the yard within the walls of that place of yours?’placently and in a half whisper to Little Dorrit, ‘my old pensionercan have his tea there, while we are having ours.’ vately informed the circle (‘Legs going.’)‘No, to be sure,’ he assented. ‘Very natural.’ Then he pri-So, with a gulf between him and the good company of about Once he asked the pensioner, in that general clemency whicha foot in width, standard measure, Mrs Plornish’s father was asked him anything to keep him afloat, how old his youngerhandsomely regaled. Clennam had never seen anything like his grandchild was?magnanimous protection by that other Father, he of the ‘John Edward,’ said the pensioner, slowly laying down hisMarshalsea; and was lost in the contemplation of its many knife and fork to consider. ‘How old, sir? Let me think now.’wonders.The Father of the Marshalsea tapped his forehead (‘MemoryThe most striking of these was perhaps the relishing manner weak.’)in which he remarked on the pensioner’s infirmities and fail-‘John Edward, sir? Well, I really forget. I couldn’t say at this369

Charles Dickensminute, sir, whether it’s two and two months, or whether it’s With that he stood on the landing, watching the old man down:two and five months. It’s one or the other.’and when he came into the room again, said, with a solemn‘Don’t distress yourself by worrying your mind about it,’ he satisfaction on him, ‘A melancholy sight that, Mr Clennam,returned, with infinite forbearance. (‘Faculties evidently decaying—oldman rusts in the life he leads!’)it himself. The poor old fellow is a dismal wreck. Spirit brokenthough one has the consolation of knowing that he doesn’t feelThe more of these discoveries that he persuaded himself he and gone—pulverised—crushed out of him, sir, completely!’made in the pensioner, the better he appeared to like him; and As Clennam had a purpose in remaining, he said what hewhen he got out of his chair after tea to bid the pensioner could responsive to these sentiments, and stood at the windowwith their enunciator, while Maggy and her Little Mothergood-bye, on his intimating that he feared, honoured sir, histime was running out, he made himself look as erect and strong washed the tea-service and cleared it away. He noticed thatas possible.his companion stood at the window with the air of an affable‘We don’t call this a shilling, Nandy, you know,’ he said, and accessible Sovereign, and that, when any of his people inputting one in his hand. ‘We call it tobacco.’the yard below looked up, his recognition of their salutes just‘Honoured sir, I thank you. It shall buy tobacco. My thanks stopped short of a blessing.and duty to Miss Amy and Miss Fanny. I wish you good night, When Little Dorrit had her work on the table, and MaggyMr Clennam.’hers on the bedstead, Fanny fell to tying her bonnet as a preliminaryto her departure. Arthur, still having his purpose, still‘And mind you don’t forget us, you know, Nandy,’ said theFather. ‘You must come again, mind, whenever you have an remained. At this time the door opened, without any notice,afternoon. You must not come out without seeing us, or we and Mr Tip came in. He kissed Amy as she started up to meetshall be jealous. Good night, Nandy. Be very careful how you him, nodded to Fanny, nodded to his father, gloomed on thedescend the stairs, Nandy; they are rather uneven and worn.’ visitor without further recognition, and sat down.370

Little Dorrit – Book One‘Tip, dear,’ said Little Dorrit, mildly, shocked by this, ‘don’t silence, no sooner heard this sentiment, than he began in angryyou see—’voice:—‘Yes, I see, Amy. If you refer to the presence of any visitor ‘How dare you—’ But his son stopped him.you have here—I say, if you refer to that,’ answered Tip, jerking ‘Now, don’t ask me how I dare, father, because that’s bosh.his head with emphasis towards his shoulder nearest Clennam, As to the fact of the line of conduct I choose to adopt towards‘I see!’the individual present, you ought to be proud of my showing a‘Is that all you say?’proper spirit.’‘That’s all I say. And I suppose,’ added the lofty young man, ‘I should think so!’ cried Fanny.after a moment’s pause, ‘that visitor will understand me, when ‘A proper spirit?’ said the Father. ‘Yes, a proper spirit; aI say that’s all I say. In short, I suppose the visitor will understandthat he hasn’t used me like a gentleman.’me—spirit!’becoming spirit. Is it come to this that my son teaches me—‘I do not understand that,’ observed the obnoxious personagereferred to with tranquillity.on the subject. I have fully made up my mind that the individual‘Now, don’t let us bother about it, father, or have any row‘No? Why, then, to make it clearer to you, sir, I beg to let present has not treated me like a gentleman. And there’s anyou know that when I address what I call a properly-worded end of it.’appeal, and an urgent appeal, and a delicate appeal, to an ‘But there is not an end of it, sir,’ returned the Father. ‘Butindividual, for a small temporary accommodation, easily within there shall not be an end of it. You have made up your mind?his power—easily within his power, mind!—and when that You have made up your mind?’individual writes back word to me that he begs to be excused, ‘Yes, I have. What’s the good of keeping on like that?’I consider that he doesn’t treat me like a gentleman.’‘Because,’ returned the Father, in a great heat, ‘you had noThe Father of the Marshalsea, who had surveyed his son in right to make up your mind to what is monstrous, to what is—371

Charles Dickensha—immoral, to what is—hum—parricidal. No, Mr Clennam, wouldn’t endure this.I beg, sir. Don’t ask me to desist; there is a—hum—a general Was he to be told that, he wished to know again, by his ownprinciple involved here, which rises even above considerations son on his own hearth, to his own face? Was that humiliationof—ha—hospitality. I object to the assertion made by my son. to be put upon him by his own blood?I—ha—I personally repel it.’‘You are putting it on yourself, father, and getting into all this‘Why, what is it to you, father?’ returned the son, over his injury of your own accord!’ said the young gentleman morosely.‘What I have made up my mind about has nothing toshoulder.‘What is it to me, sir? I have a—hum—a spirit, sir, that will do with you. What I said had nothing to do with you. Whynot endure it. I,’ he took out his pocket-handkerchief again need you go trying on other people’s hats?’and dabbed his face. ‘I am outraged and insulted by it. Let me ‘I reply it has everything to do with me,’ returned the Father.suppose the case that I myself may at a certain time—ha—or ‘I point out to you, sir, with indignation, that—hum—the—times, have made a—hum—an appeal, and a properly-worded ha—delicacy and peculiarity of your father’s position shouldappeal, and a delicate appeal, and an urgent appeal to some strike you dumb, sir, if nothing else should, in laying downindividual for a small temporary accommodation. Let me supposethat that accommodation could have been easily extended, filial, sir, if you discard that duty, you are at least—hum—not asuch—ha—such unnatural principles. Besides; if you are notand was not extended, and that that individual informed me Christian? Are you—ha—an Atheist? And is it Christian, letthat he begged to be excused. Am I to be told by my own son, me ask you, to stigmatise and denounce an individual for beggingto be excused this time, when the same individual may—that I therefore received treatment not due to a gentleman, andthat I—ha—I submitted to it?’ha—respond with the required accommodation next time? IsHis daughter Amy gently tried to calm him, but he would not it the part of a Christian not to—hum—not to try him again?’on any account be calmed. He said his spirit was up, and He had worked himself into quite a religious glow and fervour.372

Little Dorrit – Book One‘I see precious well,’ said Mr Tip, rising, ‘that I shall get no ‘Such, you see, Mr Clennam,’ said the Father, ‘are the incongruitiesof my position here. But a public duty! No man, Isensible or fair argument here to-night, and so the best thing Ican do is to cut. Good night, Amy. Don’t be vexed. I am very am sure, would more readily recognise a public duty than yourself.’sorry it happens here, and you here, upon my soul I am; but Ican’t altogether part with my spirit, even for your sake, old girl.’ Clennam besought him not to delay a moment. ‘Amy, myWith those words he put on his hat and went out, accompaniedby Miss Fanny; who did not consider it spirited on her leave the honours of our poor apology for an establishmentdear, if you can persuade Mr Clennam to stay longer, I canpart to take leave of Clennam with any less opposing demonstrationthan a stare, importing that she had always known him thing towards erasing from Mr Clennam’s mind the—ha—with confidence in your hands, and perhaps you may do some-for one of the large body of conspirators.untoward and unpleasant circumstance which has occurredWhen they were gone, the Father of the Marshalsea was at since tea-time.’first inclined to sink into despondency again, and would have Clennam assured him that it had made no impression on hisdone so, but that a gentleman opportunely came up within a mind, and therefore required no erasure.minute or two to attend him to the Snuggery. It was the gentlemanClennam had seen on the night of his own accidental de-cap and a grasp of Clennam’s hand, combining to express the‘My dear sir,’ said the Father, with a removal of his blacktention there, who had that impalpable grievance about the safe receipt of his note and enclosure that afternoon, ‘Heavenmisappropriated Fund on which the Marshal was supposed to ever bless you!’batten. He presented himself as deputation to escort the Fatherto the Chair, it being an occasion on which he had prom-and he could speak to Little Dorrit with nobody by. MaggySo, at last, Clennam’s purpose in remaining was attained,ised to preside over the assembled Collegians in the enjoymentof a littlecounted as nobody, and she was by.Harmony.373

Charles Dickenstiment offered to them by their Father. Occasionally, a vocalCHAPTER 32 More Fortune-Tellingstrain more sonorous than the generality informed the listenerthat some boastful bass was in blue water, or in the huntingMAGGY SAT AT her work in her great white cap with its quantityfield, or with the reindeer, or on the mountain, or among theof opaque frilling hiding what profile she had (she had none toheather; but the Marshal of the Marshalsea knew better, andspare), and her serviceable eye brought to bear upon her occupation,on the window side of the room. What with her flap-had got him hard and fast.As Arthur Clennam moved to sit down by the side of Littleping cap, and what with her unserviceable eye, she was quiteDorrit, she trembled so that she had much ado to hold herpartitioned off from her Little Mother, whose seat was oppositethe window. The tread and shuffle of feet on the pavementneedle. Clennam gently put his hand upon her work, and said,‘Dear Little Dorrit, let me lay it down.’of the yard had much diminished since the taking of the Chair,She yielded it to him, and he put it aside. Her hands werethe tide of Collegians having set strongly in the direction ofthen nervously clasping together, but he took one of them.Harmony. Some few who had no music in their souls, or no‘How seldom I have seen you lately, Little Dorrit!’money in their pockets, dawdled about; and the old spectacle‘I have been busy, sir.’of the visitor-wife and the depressed unseasoned prisoner still‘But I heard only to-day,’ said Clennam, ‘by mere accident,lingered in corners, as broken cobwebs and such unsightlyof your having been with those good people close by me. Whydiscomforts draggle in corners of other places. It was the quietesttime the College knew, saving the night hours when thenot come to me, then?’‘I—I don’t know. Or rather, I thought you might be busyCollegians took the benefit of the act of sleep. The occasionaltoo. You generally are now, are you not?’rattle of applause upon the tables of the Snuggery, denoted theHe saw her trembling little form and her downcast face, andsuccessful termination of a morsel of Harmony; or the responsiveacceptance, by the united children, of some toast or sen-the eyes that drooped the moment they were raised to his—he374

Little Dorrit – Book Onesaw them almost with as much concern as tenderness. ‘Hush!’ said Clennam, smiling and touching her lips with his‘My child, your manner is so changed!’hand. ‘Forgetfulness in you who remember so many and soThe trembling was now quite beyond her control. Softly withdrawingher hand, and laying it in her other hand, she sat be-and that I never was, anything but the friend whom you agreedmuch, would be new indeed. Shall I remind you that I am not,fore him with her head bent and her whole form trembling. to trust? No. You remember it, don’t you?’‘My own Little Dorrit,’ said Clennam, compassionately. ‘I try to do so, or I should have broken the promise justShe burst into tears. Maggy looked round of a sudden, and now, when my mistaken brother was here. You will considerstared for at least a minute; but did not interpose. Clennam his bringing-up in this place, and will not judge him hardly,waited some little while before he spoke again.poor fellow, I know!’ In raising her eyes with these words, she‘I cannot bear,’ he said then, ‘to see you weep; but I hope observed his face more nearly than she had done yet, andthis is a relief to an overcharged heart.’said, with a quick change of tone, ‘You have not been ill, Mr‘Yes it is, sir. Nothing but that.’Clennam?’‘Well, well! I feared you would think too much of what passed ‘No.’here just now. It is of no moment; not the least. I am only ‘Nor tried? Nor hurt?’ she asked him, anxiously.unfortunate to have come in the way. Let it go by with these It fell to Clennam now, to be not quite certain how to answer.He said in reply:tears. It is not worth one of them. One of them? Such an idlething should be repeated, with my glad consent, fifty times a ‘To speak the truth, I have been a little troubled, but it isday, to save you a moment’s heart-ache, Little Dorrit.’ over.She had taken courage now, and answered, far more in her usual Do I show it so plainly? I ought to have more fortitude andmanner, ‘You are so good! But even if there was nothing else in it to self-command than that. I thought I had. I must learn them ofbe sorry for and ashamed of, it is such a bad return to you—’ you. Who could teach me better!’375

Charles DickensHe never thought that she saw in him what no one else could he was an older man, who had done with that tender part ofsee. He never thought that in the whole world there were no life, ‘I found out my mistake, and I thought about it a little—inother eyes that looked upon him with the same light and strength short, a good deal—and got wiser. Being wiser, I counted upas hers.my years and considered what I am, and looked back, and‘But it brings me to something that I wish to say,’ he continued,‘and therefore I will not quarrel even with my own face that I had climbed the hill, and passed the level ground uponlooked forward, and found that I should soon be grey. I foundfor telling tales and being unfaithful to me. Besides, it is a privilegeand pleasure to confide in my Little Dorrit. Let me con-If he had known the sharpness of the pain he caused thethe top, and was descending quickly.’fess then, that, forgetting how grave I was, and how old I was, patient heart, in speaking thus! While doing it, too, with theand how the time for such things had gone by me with the purpose of easing and serving her.many years of sameness and little happiness that made up my ‘I found that the day when any such thing would have beenlong life far away, without marking it—that, forgetting all this, I graceful in me, or good in me, or hopeful or happy for me orfancied I loved some one.’any one in connection with me, was gone, and would never‘Do I know her, sir?’ asked Little Dorrit.shine again.’‘No, my child.’O! If he had known, if he had known! If he could have seen‘Not the lady who has been kind to me for your sake?’ the dagger in his hand, and the cruel wounds it struck in the‘Flora. No, no. Do you think—’faithful bleeding breast of his Little Dorrit!‘I never quite thought so,’ said Little Dorrit, more to herself ‘All that is over, and I have turned my face from it. Why dothan him. ‘I did wonder at it a little.’I speak of this to Little Dorrit? Why do I show you, my child,‘Well!’ said Clennam, abiding by the feeling that had fallen the space of years that there is between us, and recall to youon him in the avenue on the night of the roses, the feeling that that I have passed, by the amount of your whole life, the time376

Little Dorrit – Book Onethat is present to you?’better here,’ said Little Dorrit, faintly.‘Because you trust me, I hope. Because you know that nothingcan touch you without touching me; that nothing can make afterwards. Have you no secret you could entrust to me, with‘So you said that day upon the bridge. I thought of it muchyou happy or unhappy, but it must make me, who am so grateful hope and comfort, if you would!’to you, the same.’‘Secret? No, I have no secret,’ said Little Dorrit in someHe heard the thrill in her voice, he saw her earnest face, he trouble.saw her clear true eyes, he saw the quickened bosom that They had been speaking in low voices; more because it waswould have joyfully thrown itself before him to receive a mortalwound directed at his breast, with the dying cry, ‘I love to reserve it from Maggy at her work. All of a sudden Maggynatural to what they said to adopt that tone, than with any carehim!’ and the remotest suspicion of the truth never dawned stared again, and this time spoke:upon his mind. No. He saw the devoted little creature with her ‘I say! Little Mother!’worn shoes, in her common dress, in her jail-home; a slender ‘Yes, Maggy.’child in body, a strong heroine in soul; and the light of her ‘If you an’t got no secret of your own to tell him, tell him thatdomestic story made all else dark to him.about the Princess. She had a secret, you know.’‘For those reasons assuredly, Little Dorrit, but for another ‘The Princess had a secret?’ said Clennam, in some surprise.‘What Princess was that, Maggy?’too. So far removed, so different, and so much older, I am thebetter fitted for your friend and adviser. I mean, I am the more ‘Lor! How you do go and bother a gal of ten,’ said Maggy,easily to be trusted; and any little constraint that you might feel ‘catching the poor thing up in that way. Whoever said the Princesshad a secret? _I_ never said so.’with another, may vanish before me. Why have you kept soretired from me? Tell me.’‘I beg your pardon. I thought you did.’‘I am better here. My place and use are here. I am much ‘No, I didn’t. How could I, when it was her as wanted to377

Charles Dickensfind it out? It was the little woman as had the secret, and she ‘Little Dorrit,’ he said, taking her hand again, and speakingwas always a spinning at her wheel. And so she says to her, lower than he had spoken yet, so that even Maggy in the smallwhy do you keep it there? And so the t’other one says to her, room could not hear him, ‘another word. I have wanted veryno I don’t; and so the t’other one says to her, yes you do; and much to say this to you; I have tried for opportunities. Don’tthen they both goes to the cupboard, and there it is. And she mind me, who, for the matter of years, might be your father orwouldn’t go into the Hospital, and so she died. You know, your uncle. Always think of me as quite an old man. I knowLittle Mother; tell him that.that all your devotion centres in this room, and that nothing toFor it was a reg’lar good secret, that was!’ cried Maggy, the last will ever tempt you away from the duties you dischargehere. If I were not sure of it, I should, before now, havehugging herself.Arthur looked at Little Dorrit for help to comprehend this, implored you, and implored your father, to let me make someand was struck by seeing her so timid and red. But, when she provision for you in a more suitable place. But you may havetold him that it was only a Fairy Tale she had one day made up an interest—I will not say, now, though even that might be—for Maggy, and that there was nothing in it which she wouldn’t may have, at another time, an interest in some one else; anbe ashamed to tell again to anybody else, even if she could interest not incompatible with your affection here.’remember it, he left the subject where it was.She was very, very pale, and silently shook her head.However, he returned to his own subject by first entreating her ‘It may be, dear Little Dorrit.’to see him oftener, and to remember that it was impossible to ‘No. No. No.’ She shook her head, after each slow repetitionof the word, with an air of quiet desolation that he remem-have a stronger interest in her welfare than he had, or to be moreset upon promoting it than he was. When she answered fervently, bered long afterwards. The time came when he remembered itshe well knew that, she never forgot it, he touched upon his secondand more delicate point—the suspicion he had formed. verywell, long afterwards, within those prison walls; within thatroom.378

Little Dorrit – Book One‘But, if it ever should be, tell me so, my dear child. Entrust She seemed to catch at these words—that he remembered,the truth to me, point out the object of such an interest to me, too, long afterwards—and said, more brightly, ‘Yes, Mrand I will try with all the zeal, and honour, and friendship and Clennam; yes, you may!’respect that I feel for you, good Little Dorrit of my heart, to do The crazy staircase, usually not slow to give notice whenyou a lasting service.’any one was coming up or down, here creaked under a quick‘O thank you, thank you! But, O no, O no, O no!’ She said tread, and a further sound was heard upon it, as if a little steamenginewith more steam than it knew what to do with, werethis, looking at him with her work-worn hands folded together,and in the same resigned accents as before.working towards the room. As it approached, which it did‘I press for no confidence now. I only ask you to repose very rapidly, it laboured with increased energy; and, afterunhesitating trust in me.’knocking at the door, it sounded as if it were stooping down‘Can I do less than that, when you are so good!’and snorting in at the keyhole.‘Then you will trust me fully? Will have no secret unhappiness,or anxiety, concealed from me?’from without, stood without a hat and with his bare head in theBefore Maggy could open the door, Mr Pancks, opening it‘Almost none.’wildest condition, looking at Clennam and Little Dorrit, over‘And you have none now?’her shoulder.She shook her head. But she was very pale.He had a lighted cigar in his hand, and brought with him airs‘When I lie down to-night, and my thoughts come back—as of ale and tobacco smoke.they will, for they do every night, even when I have not seen ‘Pancks the gipsy,’ he observed out of breath, ‘fortune-telling.’He stood dingily smiling, and breathing hard at them, withyou—to this sad place, I may believe that there is no griefbeyond this room, now, and its usual occupants, which preys a most curious air; as if, instead of being his proprietor’s grubber,he were the triumphant proprietor of the Marshalsea, on Little Dorrit’s mind?’the379

Charles DickensMarshal, all the turnkeys, and all the Collegians. In his great ‘Gay!’ said Pancks. ‘I’m in wonderful feather, sir. I can’tself-satisfaction he put his cigar to his lips (being evidently no stop a minute, or I shall be missed, and I don’t want ‘em tosmoker), and took such a pull at it, with his right eye shut up miss me.—Eh, Miss Dorrit?’tight for the purpose, that he underwent a convulsion of shudderingand choking. But even in the midst of that paroxysm, he and looking at her; excitedly sticking his hair up at the sameHe seemed to have an insatiate delight in appealing to herstill essayed to repeat his favourite introduction of himself, ‘Paancksthe gi-ipsy, fortune-telling.’‘I haven’t been here half an hour. I knew Mr Dorrit was inmoment, like a dark species of cockatoo.‘I am spending the evening with the rest of ‘em,’ said Pancks. the chair, and I said, “I’ll go and support him!” I ought to be‘I’ve been singing. I’ve been taking a part in White sand and down in Bleeding Heart Yard by rights; but I can worry themgrey sand. I don’t know anything about it. Never mind. I’ll to-morrow.—Eh, Miss Dorrit?’take any part in anything. It’s all the same, if you’re loud His little black eyes sparkled electrically. His very hair seemedenough.’to sparkle as he roughened it. He was in that highly-chargedAt first Clennam supposed him to be intoxicated. But he state that one might have expected to draw sparks and snapssoon perceived that though he might be a little the worse (or from him by presenting a knuckle to any part of his figure.better) for ale, the staple of his excitement was not brewed ‘Capital company here,’ said Pancks.—’Eh, Miss Dorrit?’from malt, or distilled from any grain or berry.She was half afraid of him, and irresolute what to say. He‘How d’ye do, Miss Dorrit?’ said Pancks. ‘I thought you laughed, with a nod towards Clennam.wouldn’t mind my running round, and looking in for a moment. ‘Don’t mind him, Miss Dorrit. He’s one of us. We agreedMr Clennam I heard was here, from Mr Dorrit. How are you, that you shouldn’t take on to mind me before people, but weSir?’didn’t mean Mr Clennam. He’s one of us. He’s in it. An’t you,Clennam thanked him, and said he was glad to see him so gay. Mr Clennam?—Eh, Miss Dorrit?’ The excitement of this380

Little Dorrit – Book Onestrange creature was fast communicating itself to Clennam. know what was behind us on that little hand of yours. And soLittle Dorrit with amazement, saw this, and observed that they you shall, you shall, my darling.—Eh, Miss Dorrit?’exchanged quick looks.He had suddenly checked himself. Where he got all the additionalblack prongs from, that now flew up all over his head‘I was making a remark,’ said Pancks, ‘but I declare I forgetwhat it was. Oh, I know! Capital company here. I’ve been like the myriads of points that break out in the large change oftreating ‘em all round.—Eh, Miss Dorrit?’a great firework, was a wonderful mystery.‘Very generous of you,’ she returned, noticing another of ‘But I shall be missed;’ he came back to that; ‘and I don’tthe quick looks between the two.want ‘em to miss me. Mr Clennam, you and I made a bargain.‘Not at all,’ said Pancks. ‘Don’t mention it. I’m coming into I said you should find me stick to it. You shall find me stick tomy property, that’s the fact. I can afford to be liberal. I think it now, sir, if you’ll step out of the room a moment. Miss Dorrit,I’ll give ‘em a treat here. Tables laid in the yard. Bread in I wish you good night. Miss Dorrit, I wish you good fortune.’stacks. Pipes in faggots. Tobacco in hayloads. Roast beef and He rapidly shook her by both hands, and puffed down stairs.plum-pudding for every one. Quart of double stout a head. Arthur followed him with such a hurried step, that he had veryPint of wine too, if they like it, and the authorities give permission.—Eh,Miss Dorrit?’down into the yard.nearly tumbled over him on the last landing, and rolled himShe was thrown into such a confusion by his manner, or ‘What is it, for Heaven’s sake!’ Arthur demanded, whenrather by Clennam’s growing understanding of his manner (for they burst out there both together.she looked to him after every fresh appeal and cockatoo demonstrationon the part of Mr Pancks), that she only moved her those words he presented another man without a hat, and also‘Stop a moment, sir. Mr Rugg. Let me introduce him.’ Withlips in answer, without forming any word.with a cigar, and also surrounded with a halo of ale and tobaccosmoke, which man, though not so excited as ‘And oh, by-the-bye!’ said Pancks, ‘you were to live tohimself,381

Charles Dickenswas in a state which would have been akin to lunacy but for its ‘Stay!’ said Clennam in a whisper.’You have made a discovery.’fading into sober method when compared with the rampancyof Mr Pancks. ‘Mr Clennam, Mr Rugg,’ said Pancks. ‘Stop a Mr Pancks answered, with an unction which there is no languageto convey, ‘We rather think so.’moment. Come to the pump.’They adjourned to the pump. Mr Pancks, instantly putting ‘Does it implicate any one?’his head under the spout, requested Mr Rugg to take a good ‘How implicate, sir?’strong turn at the handle. Mr Rugg complying to the letter, Mr ‘In any suppression or wrong dealing of any kind?’Pancks came forth snorting and blowing to some purpose, ‘Not a bit of it.’and dried himself on his handkerchief.‘Thank God!’ said Clennam to himself. ‘Now show me.’‘I am the clearer for that,’ he gasped to Clennam standing ‘You are to understand’—snorted Pancks, feverishly unfoldingpapers, and speaking in short high-pressure blasts of sen-astonished. ‘But upon my soul, to hear her father makingspeeches in that chair, knowing what we know, and to see her tences, ‘Where’s the Pedigree? Where’s Schedule number four,up in that room in that dress, knowing what we know, is enough Mr Rugg? Oh! all right! Here we are.—You are to understandto—give me a back, Mr Rugg—a little higher, sir,—that’ll do!’ that we are this very day virtually complete. We shan’t be legallyfor a day or two. Call it at the outside a week. We’veThen and there, on that Marshalsea pavement, in the shades ofevening, did Mr Pancks, of all mankind, fly over the head and been at it night and day for I don’t know how long. Mr Rugg,shoulders of Mr Rugg of Pentonville, General Agent, Accountant,and Recoverer of Debts. Alighting on his feet, he took fuse me. You shall tell her, Mr Clennam. Not till we give youyou know how long? Never mind. Don’t say. You’ll only con-Clennam by the button-hole, led him behind the pump, and leave. Where’s that rough total, Mr Rugg? Oh! Here we are!pantingly produced from his pocket a bundle of papers. Mr Rugg, There sir! That’s what you’ll have to break to her. That man’salso, pantingly produced from his pocket a bundle of papers. your Father of the Marshalsea!’382

Little Dorrit – Book Onestacle in its way all along, it becomes the height of probabilityCHAPTER 33 Mrs Merdle’s Complaintthat the relict of the deceased Commissioner of nothing particular,turned these ideas in her sagacious mind.RESIGNING HERSELF to inevitable fate by making the best ofAmong her connections and acquaintances, however, shethose people, the Miggleses, and submitting her philosophy tomaintained her individual dignity and the dignity of the blood ofthe draught upon it, of which she had foreseen the likelihood inthe Barnacles, by diligently nursing the pretence that it was aher interview with Arthur, Mrs Gowan handsomely resolvedmost unfortunate business; that she was sadly cut up by it; thatnot to oppose her son’s marriage. In her progress to, and happythis was a perfect fascination under which Henry laboured;arrival at, this resolution, she was possibly influenced, not onlythat she had opposed it for a long time, but what could a motherby her maternal affections but by three politic considerations.do; and the like. She had already called Arthur Clennam toOf these, the first may have been that her son had neverbear witness to this fable, as a friend of the Meagles family;signified the smallest intention to ask her consent, or any mistrustof his ability to dispense with it; the second, that the pen-and she followed up the move by now impounding the familyitself for the same purpose. In the first interview she accordedsion bestowed upon her by a grateful country (and a Barnacle)would be freed from any little filial inroads, when herto Mr Meagles, she slided herself into the position of disconsolatelybut gracefully yielding to irresistible pressure. With theHenry should be married to the darling only child of a man inutmost politeness and good-breeding, she feigned that it wasvery easy circumstances; the third, that Henry’s debts mustshe—not he—who had made the difficulty, and who at lengthclearly be paid down upon the altar-railing by his father-inlaw.When, to these three-fold points of prudence there isgave way; and that the sacrifice was hers—not his. The samefeint, with the same polite dexterity, she foisted on Mrs Meagles,added the fact that Mrs Gowan yielded her consent the momentshe knew of Mr Meagles having yielded his, and that Mras a conjuror might have forced a card on that innocent lady;and, when her future daughter-in-law was presented to her byMeagles’s objection to the marriage had been the sole ob-383

Charles Dickensher son, she said on embracing her, ‘My dear, what have you ladies in Hampton Court Palace; but it was a point of ceremony,in that encampment, that the whole equipage shoulddone to Henry that has bewitched him so!’ at the same timeallowing a few tears to carry before them, in little pills, the be tacitly regarded as the private property of the jobber forcosmetic powder on her nose; as a delicate but touching signal the time being, and that the job-master should betray personalthat she suffered much inwardly for the show of composure knowledge of nobody but the jobber in possession. So thewith which she bore her misfortune.Circumlocution Barnacles, who were the largest job-mastersAmong the friends of Mrs Gowan (who piqued herself at in the universe, always pretended to know of no other job butonce on being Society, and on maintaining intimate and easy the job immediately in hand.relations with that Power), Mrs Merdle occupied a front row. Mrs Merdle was at home, and was in her nest of crimsonTrue, the Hampton Court Bohemians, without exception, turned and gold, with the parrot on a neighbouring stem watching herup their noses at Merdle as an upstart; but they turned them with his head on one side, as if he took her for another splendidparrot of a larger species. To whom entered Mrs Gowan,down again, by falling flat on their faces to worship his wealth.In which compensating adjustment of their noses, they were with her favourite green fan, which softened the light on thepretty much like Treasury, Bar, and Bishop, and all the rest of spots of bloom.them.‘My dear soul,’ said Mrs Gowan, tapping the back of herTo Mrs Merdle, Mrs Gowan repaired on a visit of self-condolence,after having given the gracious consent aforesaid. She ‘you are my only comfort. That affair of Henry’s that I told youfriend’s hand with this fan after a little indifferent conversation,drove into town for the purpose in a one-horse carriage irreverentlycalled at that period of English history, a pill-box. It to know, because you represent and express Society so well.’of, is to take place. Now, how does it strike you? I am dyingbelonged to a job-master in a small way, who drove it himself, Mrs Merdle reviewed the bosom which Society was accustomedto review; and having ascertained that and who jobbed it by the day, or hour, to most of the oldshow-window384

Little Dorrit – Book Oneof Mr Merdle’s and the London jewellers’ to be in good order,replied:mean, my love—I mean people’s sons who have the worldresumed Mrs Merdle, ‘and by young men you know what I‘As to marriage on the part of a man, my dear, Society requiresthat he should retrieve his fortunes by marriage. Society towards Society by marriage, or Society really will not havebefore them—they must place themselves in a better positionrequires that he should gain by marriage. Society requires that any patience with their making fools of themselves. Dreadfullyhe should found a handsome establishment by marriage. Societydoes not see, otherwise, what he has to do with marriage. nest and putting up her glass again, ‘does it not?’worldly all this sounds,’ said Mrs Merdle, leaning back in herBird, be quiet!’‘But it is true,’ said Mrs Gowan, with a highly moral air.For the parrot on his cage above them, presiding over the ‘My dear, it is not to be disputed for a moment,’ returnedconference as if he were a judge (and indeed he looked rather Mrs Merdle; ‘because Society has made up its mind on thelike one), had wound up the exposition with a shriek. subject, and there is nothing more to be said. If we were in a‘Cases there are,’ said Mrs Merdle, delicately crooking the more primitive state, if we lived under roofs of leaves, andlittle finger of her favourite hand, and making her remarks neater kept cows and sheep and creatures instead of banker’s accounts(which would be delicious; my dear, I am pastoral to aby that neat action; ‘cases there are where a man is not youngor elegant, and is rich, and has a handsome establishment already.Those are of a different kind. In such cases—’ leaves, and keep cows and sheep and creatures. I perfectlydegree, by nature), well and good. But we don’t live underMrs Merdle shrugged her snowy shoulders and put her hand exhaust myself sometimes, in pointing out the distinction toupon the jewel-stand, checking a little cough, as though to Edmund Sparkler.’add, ‘why, a man looks out for this sort of thing, my dear.’ Mrs Gowan, looking over her green fan when this youngThen the parrot shrieked again, and she put up her glass to gentleman’s name was mentioned, replied as follows:look at him, and said, ‘Bird! Do be quiet!’ ‘But, young men,’ ‘My love, you know the wretched state of the country—385

Charles Dickensthose unfortunate concessions of John Barnacle’s!—and you interrogatively, ‘Ye-es? And then?’therefore know the reasons for my being as poor as ‘And then, my dear,’ said Mrs Gowan not quite so sweetlyThingummy.’as before, ‘I should be glad to hear what you have to say to it.’‘A church mouse?’ Mrs Merdle suggested with a smile. Here the parrot, who had been standing on one leg since he‘I was thinking of the other proverbial church person—Job,’ screamed last, burst into a fit of laughter, bobbed himself derisivelyup and down on both legs, and finished by standing onsaid Mrs Gowan. ‘Either will do. It would be idle to disguise,consequently, that there is a wide difference between the positionof your son and mine. I may add, too, that Henry has awry as he could possibly twist it.one leg again, and pausing for a reply, with his head as muchtalent—’‘Sounds mercenary to ask what the gentleman is to get with‘Which Edmund certainly has not,’ said Mrs Merdle, with the lady,’ said Mrs Merdle; ‘but Society is perhaps a littlethe greatest suavity.mercenary, you know, my dear.’‘—and that his talent, combined with disappointment,’ Mrs ‘From what I can make out,’ said Mrs Gowan, ‘I believe IGowan went on, ‘has led him into a pursuit which—ah dear may say that Henry will be relieved from debt—’me! You know, my dear. Such being Henry’s different position,the question is what is the most inferior class of marriage ‘Why tolerably, I should think,’ said Mrs Gowan.‘Much in debt?’ asked Mrs Merdle through her eyeglass.to which I can reconcile myself.’‘Meaning the usual thing; I understand; just so,’ Mrs MerdleMrs Merdle was so much engaged with the contemplation observed in a comfortable sort of way.of her arms (beautiful-formed arms, and the very thing for ‘And that the father will make them an allowance of threebracelets), that she omitted to reply for a while. Roused at hundred a-year, or perhaps altogether something more, which,length by the silence, she folded the arms, and with admirable in Italy—’presence of mind looked her friend full in the face, and said ‘Oh! Going to Italy?’ said Mrs Merdle.386

Little Dorrit – Book One‘For Henry to study. You need be at no loss to guess why, the exact nature of the fiction to be nursed, she took it delicatelyin her arms, and put her required contribution of glossmy dear.That dreadful Art—’upon it.True. Mrs Merdle hastened to spare the feelings of her afflictedfriend. She understood. Say no more!‘Well, well! The fault is not yours. You have nothing to re-‘And that is all, my dear?’ said she, heaving a friendly sigh.‘And that,’ said Mrs Gowan, shaking her despondent head, proach yourself with. You must exercise the strength of mind‘that’s all. That,’ repeated Mrs Gowan, furling her green fan for which you are renowned, and make the best of it.’ ‘Thefor the moment, and tapping her chin with it (it was on the way girl’s family have made,’ said Mrs Gowan, ‘of course, the mostto being a double chin; might be called a chin and a half at strenuous endeavours to—as the lawyers say—to have andpresent), ‘that’s all! On the death of the old people, I suppose to hold Henry.’there will be more to come; but how it may be restricted or ‘Of course they have, my dear,’ said Mrs Merdle.locked up, I don’t know. And as to that, they may live for ‘I have persisted in every possible objection, and have worriedmyself morning, noon, and night, for means to detach Henryever. My dear, they are just the kind of people to do it.’Now, Mrs Merdle, who really knew her friend Society pretty from the connection.’well, and who knew what Society’s mothers were, and what ‘No doubt you have, my dear,’ said Mrs Merdle.Society’s daughters were, and what Society’s matrimonial ‘And all of no use. All has broken down beneath me. Nowmarket was, and how prices ruled in it, and what scheming tell me, my love. Am I justified in at last yielding my mostand counter-scheming took place for the high buyers, and what reluctant consent to Henry’s marrying among people not inbargaining and huckstering went on, thought in the depths of Society; or, have I acted with inexcusable weakness?’her capacious bosom that this was a sufficiently good catch. In answer to this direct appeal, Mrs Merdle assured MrsKnowing, however, what was expected of her, and perceiving Gowan (speaking as a Priestess of Society) that she was highly387

Charles Dickensto be commended, that she was much to be sympathised with, For a gentleman who had this splendid work cut out for him,that she had taken the highest of parts, and had come out of Mr Merdle looked a little common, and rather as if, in thethe furnace refined. And Mrs Gowan, who of course saw course of his vast transactions, he had accidentally made anthrough her own threadbare blind perfectly, and who knew interchange of heads with some inferior spirit. He presentedthat Mrs Merdle saw through it perfectly, and who knew that himself before the two ladies in the course of a dismal strollSociety would see through it perfectly, came out of this form, through his mansion, which had no apparent object but escapefrom the presence of the chief butler.notwithstanding, as she had gone into it, with immense complacencyand gravity.‘I beg your pardon,’ he said, stopping short in confusion; ‘IThe conference was held at four or five o’clock in the afternoon,when all the region of Harley Street, Cavendish Square, However, as Mrs Merdle said, ‘You can come in!’ and asdidn’t know there was anybody here but the parrot.’was resonant of carriage-wheels and double-knocks. It had Mrs Gowan said she was just going, and had already risen toreached this point when Mr Merdle came home from his daily take her leave, he came in, and stood looking out at a distantoccupation of causing the British name to be more and more window, with his hands crossed under his uneasy coat-cuffs,respected in all parts of the civilised globe capable of the appreciationof world-wide commercial enterprise and gigantic this attitude he fell directly into a reverie from which he wasclasping his wrists as if he were taking himself into custody. Incombinations of skill and capital. For, though nobody knew only aroused by his wife’s calling to him from her ottoman,with the least precision what Mr Merdle’s business was, exceptthat it was to coin money, these were the terms in which ‘Eh? Yes?’ said Mr Merdle, turning towards her. ‘What iswhen they had been for some quarter of an hour alone.everybody defined it on all ceremonious occasions, and which it?’it was the last new polite reading of the parable of the camel ‘What is it?’ repeated Mrs Merdle. ‘It is, I suppose, thatand the needle’s eye to accept without inquiry.you have not heard a word of my complaint.’388

Little Dorrit – Book One‘Your complaint, Mrs Merdle?’ said Mr Merdle. ‘I didn’t ‘Indeed I don’t know,’ retorted Mrs Merdle, ‘but that youknow that you were suffering from a complaint. What complaint?’would at least know that you were sensible of what was goinghad better do that, than be so moody and distraught. One‘A complaint of you,’ said Mrs Merdle.on around you.’‘Oh! A complaint of me,’ said Mr Merdle. ‘What is the— ‘A man might scream, and yet not be that, Mrs Merdle,’what have I—what may you have to complain of in me, Mrs said Mr Merdle, heavily.Merdle?’ In his withdrawing, abstracted, pondering way, it ‘And might be dogged, as you are at present, without screaming,’returned Mrs Merdle. ‘That’s very true. If you wish totook him some time to shape this question. As a kind of faintattempt to convince himself that he was the master of the house, know the complaint I make against you, it is, in so many plainhe concluded by presenting his forefinger to the parrot, who words, that you really ought not to go into Society unless youexpressed his opinion on that subject by instantly driving his can accommodate yourself to Society.’bill into it.Mr Merdle, so twisting his hands into what hair he had upon‘You were saying, Mrs Merdle,’ said Mr Merdle, with his his head that he seemed to lift himself up by it as he started outwounded finger in his mouth, ‘that you had a complaint against of his chair, cried: ‘Why, in the name of all the infernal powers,me?’Mrs Merdle, who does more for Society than I do? Do you‘A complaint which I could scarcely show the justice of more see these premises, Mrs Merdle?emphatically, than by having to repeat it,’ said Mrs Merdle. ‘I Do you see this furniture, Mrs Merdle? Do you look in themight as well have stated it to the wall. I had far better have glass and see yourself, Mrs Merdle? Do you know the cost ofstated it to the bird. He would at least have screamed.’ all this, and who it’s all provided for? And yet will you tell me‘You don’t want me to scream, Mrs Merdle, I suppose,’ that I oughtn’t to go into Society? I, who shower money uponsaid Mr Merdle, taking a chair.it in this way? I, who might always be said—to—to—to har-389

Charles Dickensness myself to a watering-cart full of money, and go about ‘I say,’ answered Mrs Merdle composedly, ‘that you oughtsaturating Society every day of my life.’to make yourself fit for it by being more degage, and less preoccupied.There is a positive vulgarity in carrying your busi-‘Pray, don’t be violent, Mr Merdle,’ said Mrs Merdle.‘Violent?’ said Mr Merdle. ‘You are enough to make me desperate.You don’t know half of what I do to accommodate So-about, Mrs Merdle?’ asked Mr Merdle.ness affairs about with you as you do.’ ‘How do I carry themciety. You don’t know anything of the sacrifices I make for it.’ ‘How do you carry them about?’ said Mrs Merdle. ‘Look‘I know,’ returned Mrs Merdle, ‘that you receive the best in at yourself in the glass.’the land. I know that you move in the whole Society of the Mr Merdle involuntarily turned his eyes in the direction ofcountry. And I believe I know (indeed, not to make any ridiculouspretence about it, I know I know) who sustains you turbid blood to his temples, whether a man was to be called tothe nearest mirror, and asked, with a slow determination of hisin it, Mr Merdle.’account for his digestion?‘Mrs Merdle,’ retorted that gentleman, wiping his dull red and ‘You have a physician,’ said Mrs Merdle.yellow face, ‘I know that as well as you do. If you were not an ‘He does me no good,’ said Mr Merdle.ornament to Society, and if I was not a benefactor to Society, Mrs Merdle changed her ground.you and I would never have come together. When I say a benefactorto it, I mean a person who provides it with all sorts of of your digestion. I speak of your manner.’ ‘Mrs Merdle,’‘Besides,’ said she, ‘your digestion is nonsense. I don’t speakexpensive things to eat and drink and look at. But, to tell me that returned her husband, ‘I look to you for that. You supply manner,and I supply money.’I am not fit for it after all I have done for it—after all I have donefor it,’ repeated Mr Merdle, with a wild emphasis that made his ‘I don’t expect you,’ said Mrs Merdle, reposing easily amongwife lift up her eyelids, ‘after all—all!—to tell me I have no right her cushions, ‘to captivate people. I don’t want you to taketo mix with it after all, is a pretty reward.’any trouble upon yourself, or to try to be fascinating. I simply390

Little Dorrit – Book Onerequest you to care about nothing—or seem to care about had opened, and Mrs Merdle now surveyed the head of hernothing—as everybody else does.’son through her glass. ‘Edmund; we want you here.’‘Do I ever say I care about anything?’ asked Mr Merdle. Mr Sparkler, who had merely put in his head and looked‘Say? No! Nobody would attend to you if you did. But you round the room without entering (as if he were searching theshow it.’house for that young lady with no nonsense about her), upon‘Show what? What do I show?’ demanded Mr Merdle hurriedly.To whom, in a few easy words adapted to his capacity, Mrsthis followed up his head with his body, and stood before them.‘I have already told you. You show that you carry your businesscares an projects about, instead of leaving them in the The young gentleman, after anxiously feeling his shirt-collarMerdle stated the question at issue.City, or wherever else they belong to,’ said Mrs Merdle. ‘Or as if it were his pulse and he were hypochondriacal, observed,seeming to. Seeming would be quite enough: I ask no more. ‘That he had heard it noticed by fellers.’Whereas you couldn’t be more occupied with your day’s calculationsand combinations than you habitually show yourself with languid triumph. ‘Why, no doubt everybody has heard it‘Edmund Sparkler has heard it noticed,’ said Mrs Merdle,to be, if you were a carpenter.’noticed!’ Which in truth was no unreasonable inference; seeingthat Mr Sparkler would probably be the last person, in any‘A carpenter!’ repeated Mr Merdle, checking somethinglike a groan.assemblage of the human species, to receive an impression‘I shouldn’t so much mind being a carpenter, Mrs Merdle.’ from anything that passed in his presence.‘And my complaint is,’ pursued the lady, disregarding the ‘And Edmund Sparkler will tell you, I dare say,’ said Mrslow remark, ‘that it is not the tone of Society, and that you Merdle, waving her favourite hand towards her husband, ‘howought to correct it, Mr Merdle. If you have any doubt of my he has heard it noticed.’ ‘I couldn’t,’ said Mr Sparkler, afterjudgment, ask even Edmund Sparkler.’ The door of the room feeling his pulse as before, ‘couldn’t undertake to say what led391

Charles Dickensto it—’cause memory desperate loose. But being in company about her, ‘is exactly my complaint. Edmund, give me yourwith the brother of a doosed fine gal—well educated too— arm up-stairs.’with no biggodd nonsense about her—at the period alluded Mr Merdle, left alone to meditate on a better conformationto—’of himself to Society, looked out of nine windows in succession,and appeared to see nine wastes of space. When he had‘There! Never mind the sister,’ remarked Mrs Merdle, alittle impatiently. ‘What did the brother say?’thus entertained himself he went down-stairs, and looked intentlyat all the carpets on the ground-floor; and then came up-‘Didn’t say a word, ma’am,’ answered Mr Sparkler. ‘Assilent a feller as myself. Equally hard up for a remark.’ stairs again, and looked intently at all the carpets on the firstfloor;as if they were gloomy depths, in unison with his op-‘Somebody said something,’ returned Mrs Merdle. ‘Nevermind who it was.’pressed soul. Through all the rooms he wandered, as he alwaysdid, like the last person on earth who had any business(‘Assure you I don’t in the least,’ said Mr Sparkler.)‘But tell us what it was.’to approach them. Let Mrs Merdle announce, with all her might,Mr Sparkler referred to his pulse again, and put himself that she was at Home ever so many nights in a season, shethrough some severe mental discipline before he replied: could not announce more widely and unmistakably than Mr‘Fellers referring to my Governor—expression not my own— Merdle did that he was never at home.occasionally compliment my Governor in a very handsome At last he met the chief butler, the sight of which splendidway on being immensely rich and knowing—perfect phenomenonof Buyer and Banker and that—but say the Shop sits ture, he sneaked to his dressing-room, and there remainedretainer always finished him. Extinguished by this great crea-heavily on him. Say he carried the Shop about, on his back shut up until he rode out to dinner, with Mrs Merdle, in herrather—like Jew clothesmen with too much business.’ own handsome chariot. At dinner, he was envied and flattered‘Which,’ said Mrs Merdle, rising, with her floating drapery as a being of might, was Treasuried, Barred, and Bishoped, as392

Little Dorrit – Book Onemuch as he would; and an hour after midnight came home cumlocution Office sent out a Barnacle and a despatch-box.alone, and being instantly put out again in his own hall, like a Thus the Barnacles were all over the world, in every direction—despatch-boxingthe compass.rushlight, by the chief butler, went sighing to bed.But, while the so-potent art of Prospero himself would havefailed in summoning the Barnacles from every speck of oceanCHAPTER 34 A Shoal of Barnaclesand dry land on which there was nothing (except mischief) tobe done and anything to be pocketed, it was perfectly feasibleMR HENRY GOWAN and the dog were established frequentersto assemble a good many Barnacles. This Mrs Gowan appliedherself to do; calling on Mr Meagles frequently with newof the cottage, and the day was fixed for the wedding. Therewas to be a convocation of Barnacles on the occasion, in orderthat that very high and very large family might shed asadditions to the list, and holding conferences with that gentlemanwhen he was not engaged (as he generally was at thismuch lustre on the marriage as so dim an event was capable ofperiod) in examining and paying the debts of his future son-inlaw,in the apartment of scales and scoops.receiving.To have got the whole Barnacle family together would haveOne marriage guest there was, in reference to whose presenceMr Meagles felt a nearer interest and concern than in thebeen impossible for two reasons. Firstly, because no buildingcould have held all the members and connections of that illustrioushouse. Secondly, because wherever there was a squareattendance of the most elevated Barnacle expected; though hewas far from insensible of the honour of having such company.yard of ground in British occupation under the sun or moon,This guest was Clennam. But Clennam had made a promisewith a public post upon it, sticking to that post was a Barnacle.he held sacred, among the trees that summer night, and, in theNo intrepid navigator could plant a flag-staff upon any spot ofchivalry of his heart, regarded it as binding him to many impliedobligations. In forgetfulness of himself, and delicate ser-earth, and take possession of it in the British name, but to thatspot of earth, so soon as the discovery was known, the Cir-393

Charles Dickensvice to her on all occasions, he was never to fail; to begin it, he friendship he would accept. Mr Gowan treated him in returnanswered Mr Meagles cheerfully, ‘I shall come, of course.’ with his usual ease, and with his usual show of confidence,His partner, Daniel Doyce, was something of a stumblingblockin Mr Meagles’s way, the worthy gentleman being not ‘You see, Clennam,’ he happened to remark in the coursewhich was no confidence at all.at all clear in his own anxious mind but that the mingling of of conversation one day, when they were walking near theDaniel with official Barnacleism might produce some explosivecombination, even at a marriage breakfast. The national man. That you know already.’Cottage within a week of the marriage, ‘I am a disappointedoffender, however, lightened him of his uneasiness by coming ‘Upon my word,’ said Clennam, a little embarrassed, ‘Idown to Twickenham to represent that he begged, with the scarcely know how.’freedom of an old friend, and as a favour to one, that he might ‘Why,’ returned Gowan, ‘I belong to a clan, or a clique, ornot be invited. ‘For,’ said he, ‘as my business with this set of a family, or a connection, or whatever you like to call it, thatgentlemen was to do a public duty and a public service, and as might have provided for me in any one of fifty ways, and thattheir business with me was to prevent it by wearing my soul took it into its head not to do it at all. So here I am, a poorout, I think we had better not eat and drink together with a devil of an artist.’show of being of one mind.’ Mr Meagles was much amused Clennam was beginning, ‘But on the other hand—’ whenby his friend’s oddity; and patronised him with a more protectingair of allowance than usual, when he rejoined: ‘Well, ‘Yes, yes, I know. I have the good fortune of being belovedGowan took him up.well, Dan, you shall have your own crotchety way.’by a beautiful and charming girl whom I love with all my heart.’To Mr Henry Gowan, as the time approached, Clennam (‘Is there much of it?’ Clennam thought. And as he thought it,tried to convey by all quiet and unpretending means, that he felt ashamed of himself.)was frankly and disinterestedly desirous of tendering him any ‘And of finding a father-in-law who is a capital fellow and a394

Little Dorrit – Book Oneliberal good old boy. Still, I had other prospects washed and run a race in it. It’s the best of old worlds! And my calling! Thecombed into my childish head when it was washed and combed best of old callings, isn’t it?’for me, and I took them to a public school when I washed and ‘Full of interest and ambition, I conceive,’ said Clennam.combed it for myself, and I am here without them, and thus I ‘And imposition,’ added Gowan, laughing; ‘we won’t leaveam a disappointed man.’out the imposition. I hope I may not break down in that; butClennam thought (and as he thought it, again felt ashamed of there, my being a disappointed man may show itself. I may nothimself), was this notion of being disappointed in life, an assertionof station which the bridegroom brought into the family as think there is some danger of my being just enough soured notbe able to face it out gravely enough. Between you and me, Ihis property, having already carried it detrimentally into his to be able to do that.’pursuit? And was it a hopeful or a promising thing anywhere? ‘To do what?’ asked Clennam.‘Not bitterly disappointed, I think,’ he said aloud. ‘Hang it, ‘To keep it up. To help myself in my turn, as the man beforeno; not bitterly,’ laughed Gowan. ‘My people are not worth me helps himself in his, and pass the bottle of smoke. To keepthat—though they are charming fellows, and I have the greatestaffection for them. Besides, it’s pleasant to show them that being devoted to my art, and giving up many solitary days to it,up the pretence as to labour, and study, and patience, andI can do without them, and that they may all go to the Devil. and abandoning many pleasures for it, and living in it, and allAnd besides, again, most men are disappointed in life, somehowor other, and influenced by their disappointment. But it’s to rule.’the rest of it—in short, to pass the bottle of smoke accordinga dear good world, and I love it!’‘But it is well for a man to respect his own vocation, whateverit is; and to think himself bound to uphold it, and to claim‘It lies fair before you now,’ said Arthur.‘Fair as this summer river,’ cried the other, with enthusiasm, for it the respect it deserves; is it not?’ Arthur reasoned. ‘And‘and by Jove I glow with admiration of it, and with ardour to your vocation, Gowan, may really demand this suit and ser-395

Charles Dickensvice. I confess I should have thought that all Art did.’ to him, and that so far he had gained little or nothing from the‘What a good fellow you are, Clennam!’ exclaimed the other, dismissal of Nobody, with all his inconsistencies, anxieties, andstopping to look at him, as if with irrepressible admiration. contradictions. He found a contest still always going on in his‘What a capital fellow! You have never been disappointed. breast between his promise to keep Gowan in none but goodThat’s easy to see.’aspects before the mind of Mr Meagles, and his enforced observationof Gowan in aspects that had no good in them. NorIt would have been so cruel if he had meant it, that Clennamfirmly resolved to believe he did not mean it. Gowan, without could he quite support his own conscientious nature againstpausing, laid his hand upon his shoulder, and laughingly and misgivings that he distorted and discoloured himself, by remindinghimself that he never sought those discoveries, andlightly went on:‘Clennam, I don’t like to dispel your generous visions, and I that he would have avoided them with willingness and greatwould give any money (if I had any), to live in such a rosecolouredmist. But what I do in my trade, I do to sell. What all knew that he had once disliked Gowan for no better reasonrelief. For he never could forget what he had been; and hewe fellows do, we do to sell. If we didn’t want to sell it for the than that he had come in his way.most we can get for it, we shouldn’t do it. Being work, it has Harassed by these thoughts, he now began to wish the marriageover, Gowan and his young wife gone, and himself left toto be done; but it’s easily enough done. All the rest is hocuspocus.fulfil his promise, and discharge the generous function he hadNow here’s one of the advantages, or disadvantages, of accepted. This last week was, in truth, an uneasy interval forknowing a disappointed man. You hear the truth.’the whole house. Before Pet, or before Gowan, Mr MeaglesWhatever he had heard, and whether it deserved that name was radiant; but Clennam had more than once found him alone,or another, it sank into Clennam’s mind. It so took root there, with his view of the scales and scoop much blurred, and hadthat he began to fear Henry Gowan would always be a trouble often seen him look after the lovers, in the garden or else-396

Little Dorrit – Book Onewhere when he was not seen by them, with the old clouded the tenderness of an old attached servant, which is a very prettyface on which Gowan had fallen like a shadow. In the arrangementof the house for the great occasion, many little reminders But all days come that are to be; and the marriage-day wastenderness indeed.of the old travels of the father and mother and daughter had to to be, and it came; and with it came all the Barnacles whobe disturbed and passed from hand to hand; and sometimes, were bidden to the feast. There was Mr Tite Barnacle, fromin the midst of these mute witnesses, to the life they had had the Circumlocution Office, and Mews Street, Grosvenortogether, even Pet herself would yield to lamenting and weeping.Mrs Meagles, the blithest and busiest of mothers, went who made the Quarter Days so long in coming, and the threeSquare, with the expensive Mrs Tite Barnacle NEE Stiltstalking,about singing and cheering everybody; but she, honest soul, expensive Miss Tite Barnacles, double-loaded with accomplishmentsand ready to go off, and yet not going off with thehad her flights into store rooms, where she would cry until hereyes were red, and would then come out, attributing that appearanceto pickled onions and pepper, and singing clearer but rather hanging fire. There was Barnacle junior, also fromsharpness of flash and bang that might have been expected,than ever. Mrs Tickit, finding no balsam for a wounded mind the Circumlocution Office, leaving the Tonnage of the country,in Buchan’s Domestic Medicine, suffered greatly from low which he was somehow supposed to take under his protection,to look after itself, and, sooth to say, not at all impairingspirits, and from moving recollections of Minnie’s infancy. Whenthe latter was powerful with her, she usually sent up secret the efficiency of its protection by leaving it alone. There wasmessages importing that she was not in parlour condition as to the engaging Young Barnacle, deriving from the sprightly sideher attire, and that she solicited a sight of ‘her child’ in the of the family, also from the Circumlocution Office, gaily andkitchen; there, she would bless her child’s face, and bless her agreeably helping the occasion along, and treating it, in hischild’s heart, and hug her child, in a medley of tears and congratulations,chopping-boards, rolling-pins, and pie-crust, with Department of How not to do it. There were three othersparkling way, as one of the official forms and fees of the ChurchYoung397

Charles DickensBarnacles from three other offices, insipid to all the senses, that Bill was as good as dead and buried when Lord Decimusand terribly in want of seasoning, doing the marriage as they Tite Barnacle rose up in his place and solemnly said, soaringwould have ‘done’ the Nile, Old Rome, the new singer, or into indignant majesty as the Circumlocution cheering soaredJerusalem.around him, that he was yet to be told, My Lords, that it behovedhim as the Minister of this free country, to set bounds toBut there was greater game than this. There was LordDecimus Tite Barnacle himself, in the odour of Circumlocution—withthe very smell of Despatch-Boxes upon him. Yes, to contract the enterprise, to damp the independent self-reli-the philanthropy, to cramp the charity, to fetter the public spirit,there was Lord Decimus Tite Barnacle, who had risen to officialheights on the wings of one indignant idea, and that was, was the discovery of the political perpetual motion. It neverance, of its people. The discovery of this Behoving MachineMy Lords, that I am yet to be told that it behoves a Minister of wore out, though it was always going round and round in allthis free country to set bounds to the philanthropy, to cramp the State Departments.the charity, to fetter the public spirit, to contract the enterprise, And there, with his noble friend and relative Lord Decimus,to damp the independent self-reliance, of its people. That was, was William Barnacle, who had made the ever-famous coalitionwith Tudor Stiltstalking, and who always kept ready hisin other words, that this great statesman was always yet to betold that it behoved the Pilot of the ship to do anything but own particular recipe for How not to do it; sometimes tappingprosper in the private loaf and fish trade ashore, the crew beingable, by dint of hard pumping, to keep the ship above will beg you, sir, to inform the House what Precedent we havethe Speaker, and drawing it fresh out of him, with a ‘First, Iwater without him. On this sublime discovery in the great art for the course into which the honourable gentleman would precipitateus;’ sometimes asking the honourable gentleman toHow not to do it, Lord Decimus had long sustained the highestglory of the Barnacle family; and let any ill-advised member of favour him with his own version of the Precedent; sometimeseither House but try How to do it by bringing in a Bill to do it, telling the honourable gentleman that he (William Barnacle)398

Little Dorrit – Book Onewould search for a Precedent; and oftentimes crushing the leaped through twenty places in quick succession, and washonourable gentleman flat on the spot by telling him there was always in two or three at once, and who was the much-respectedinventor of an art which he practised with great suc-no Precedent. But Precedent and Precipitate were, under allcircumstances, the well-matched pair of battle-horses of this cess and admiration in all Barnacle Governments. This was,able Circumlocutionist. No matter that the unhappy honourable when he was asked a Parliamentary question on any one topic,gentleman had been trying in vain, for twenty-five years, to to return an answer on any other. It had done immense service,and brought him into high esteem with the Circumlocu-precipitate William Barnacle into this—William Barnacle stillput it to the House, and (at second-hand or so) to the country, tion Office.whether he was to be precipitated into this. No matter that it And there, too, was a sprinkling of less distinguished ParliamentaryBarnacles, who had not as yet got anything snug, andwas utterly irreconcilable with the nature of things and courseof events that the wretched honourable gentleman could possiblyproduce a Precedent for this—William Barnacle would These Barnacles perched upon staircases and hid in passages,were going through their probation to prove their worthiness.nevertheless thank the honourable gentleman for that ironical waiting their orders to make houses or not to make houses;cheer, and would close with him upon that issue, and would and they did all their hearing, and ohing, and cheering, andtell him to his teeth that there Was NO Precedent for this. It barking, under directions from the heads of the family; andmight perhaps have been objected that the William Barnacle they put dummy motions on the paper in the way of otherwisdom was not high wisdom or the earth it bamboozled would men’s motions; and they stalled disagreeable subjects off untilnever have been made, or, if made in a rash mistake, would late in the night and late in the session, and then with virtuoushave remained blank mud. But Precedent and Precipitate togetherfrightened all objection out of most people.into the country, whenever they were sent, and swore that Lordpatriotism cried out that it was too late; and they went downAnd there, too, was another Barnacle, a lively one, who had Decimus had revived trade from a swoon, and commerce from399

Charles Dickensa fit, and had doubled the harvest of corn, quadrupled the was a swarm in the Twickenham cottage, and filled it. A Barnacle(assisted by a Barnacle) married the happy pair, and itharvest of hay, and prevented no end of gold from flying out ofthe Bank. Also these Barnacles were dealt, by the heads of behoved Lord Decimus Tite Barnacle himself to conduct Mrsthe family, like so many cards below the court-cards, to public Meagles to breakfast.meetings and dinners; where they bore testimony to all sorts of The entertainment was not as agreeable and natural as itservices on the part of their noble and honourable relatives, might have been. Mr Meagles, hove down by his good companywhile he highly appreciated it, was not himself. Mrsand buttered the Barnacles on all sorts of toasts. And theystood, under similar orders, at all sorts of elections; and they Gowan was herself, and that did not improve him. The fictionturned out of their own seats, on the shortest notice and the that it was not Mr Meagles who had stood in the way, but thatmost unreasonable terms, to let in other men; and they fetched it was the Family greatness, and that the Family greatness hadand carried, and toadied and jobbed, and corrupted, and ate made a concession, and there was now a soothing unanimity,heaps of dirt, and were indefatigable in the public service. And pervaded the affair, though it was never openly expressed.there was not a list, in all the Circumlocution Office, of places Then the Barnacles felt that they for their parts would havethat might fall vacant anywhere within half a century, from a done with the Meagleses when the present patronising occasionwas over; and the Meagleses felt the same for their parts.lord of the Treasury to a Chinese consul, and up again to agovernor-general of India, but as applicants for such places, Then Gowan asserting his rights as a disappointed man whothe names of some or of every one of these hungry and adhesiveBarnacles were down.lowed his mother to have them there, as much in the hope ithad his grudge against the family, and who, perhaps, had al-It was necessarily but a sprinkling of any class of Barnacles might give them some annoyance as with any other benevolentthat attended the marriage, for there were not two score in all, object, aired his pencil and his poverty ostentatiously beforeand what is that subtracted from Legion! But the sprinkling them, and told them he hoped in time to settle a crust of bread400

Little Dorrit – Book Oneand cheese on his wife, and that he begged such of them as wanted to know this moment, you know, that would be jolly;(more fortunate than himself) came in for any good thing, and wouldn’t it?could buy a picture, to please to remember the poor painter. The pleasantest part of the occasion by far, to Clennam,Then Lord Decimus, who was a wonder on his own Parliamentarypedestal, turned out to be the windiest creature here: about Pet in the room with the two pictures (where the com-was the painfullest. When Mr and Mrs Meagles at last hungproposing happiness to the bride and bridegroom in a series pany were not), before going with her to the threshold whichof platitudes that would have made the hair of any sincere she could never recross to be the old Pet and the old delight,disciple and believer stand on end; and trotting, with the complacencyof an idiotic elephant, among howling labyrinths of Gowan himself was touched, and answered Mr Meagles’s ‘Onothing could be more natural and simple than the three were.sentences which he seemed to take for high roads, and never Gowan, take care of her, take care of her!’ with an earnestso much as wanted to get out of. Then Mr Tite Barnacle could ‘Don’t be so broken-hearted, sir. By Heaven I will!’not but feel that there was a person in company, who would And so, with the last sobs and last loving words, and a lasthave disturbed his life-long sitting to Sir Thomas Lawrence in look to Clennam of confidence in his promise, Pet fell back infull official character, if such disturbance had been possible: the carriage, and her husband waved his hand, and they werewhile Barnacle junior did, with indignation, communicate to away for Dover; though not until the faithful Mrs Tickit, in hertwo vapid gentlemen, his relatives, that there was a feller here, silk gown and jet black curls, had rushed out from some hiding-place,and thrown both her shoes after the carriage: anlook here, who had come to our Department without an appointmentand said he wanted to know, you know; and that, apparition which occasioned great surprise to the distinguishedlook here, if he was to break out now, as he might you know company at the windows.(for you never could tell what an ungentlemanly Radical of that The said company being now relieved from further attendance,and the chief Barnacles being rather hurried (for sort would be up to next), and was to say, look here, that hethey401

had it in hand just then to send a mail or two which was indanger of going straight to its destination, beating about theseas like the Flying Dutchman, and to arrange with complexityfor the stoppage of a good deal of important business otherwisein peril of being done), went their several ways; with allaffability conveying to Mr and Mrs Meagles that general assurancethat what they had been doing there, they had beendoing at a sacrifice for Mr and Mrs Meagles’s good, whichthey always conveyed to Mr John Bull in their official condescensionto that most unfortunate creature.A miserable blank remained in the house and in the hearts ofthe father and mother and Clennam. Mr Meagles called onlyone remembrance to his aid, that really did him good.‘It’s very gratifying, Arthur,’ he said, ‘after all, to look backupon.’‘The past?’ said Clennam.‘Yes—but I mean the company.’It had made him much more low and unhappy at the time,but now it really did him good. ‘It’s very gratifying,’ he said,often repeating the remark in the course of the evening. ‘Suchhigh company!’Charles DickensCHAPTER 35 What was behind Mr Panckson Little Dorrit’s HandIT WAS AT THIS TIME that Mr Pancks, in discharge of his compactwith Clennam, revealed to him the whole of his gipsystory, and told him Little Dorrit’s fortune. Her father was heirat-lawto a great estate that had long lain unknown of, unclaimed,and accumulating. His right was now clear, nothinginterposed in his way, the Marshalsea gates stood open, theMarshalsea walls were down, a few flourishes of his pen, andhe was extremely rich.In his tracking out of the claim to its complete establishment,Mr Pancks had shown a sagacity that nothing could baffle,and a patience and secrecy that nothing could tire. ‘I littlethought, sir,’ said Pancks, ‘when you and I crossed Smithfieldthat night, and I told you what sort of a Collector I was, thatthis would come of it. I little thought, sir, when I told you youwere not of the Clennams of Cornwall, that I was ever goingto tell you who were of the Dorrits of Dorsetshire.’ He thenwent on to detail. How, having that name recorded in his notebook,he was first attracted by the name alone. How, having402

Little Dorrit – Book Oneoften found two exactly similar names, even belonging to the observe,’ said Mr Pancks): and from whom he derived, withoutbeing at all suspected, two or three little points of familysame place, to involve no traceable consanguinity, near or distant,he did not at first give much heed to this, except in the way history which, as he began to hold clues of his own, suggestedof speculation as to what a surprising change would be made in others. How it had at length become plain to Mr Pancks thatthe condition of a little seamstress, if she could be shown to he had made a real discovery of the heir-at-law to a greathave any interest in so large a property. How he rather supposedhimself to have pursued the idea into its next degree, fulness and perfection. How he had, thereupon, sworn his land-fortune, and that his discovery had but to be ripened to legalbecause there was something uncommon in the quiet little seamstress,which pleased him and provoked his curiosity. into Moleing partnership.lord, Mr Rugg, to secrecy in a solemn manner, and taken himHow he had felt his way inch by inch, and ‘Moled it out, sir’ How they had employed John Chivery as their sole clerk(that was Mr Pancks’s expression), grain by grain. How, in and agent, seeing to whom he was devoted. And how, untilthe beginning of the labour described by this new verb, and to the present hour, when authorities mighty in the Bank andrender which the more expressive Mr Pancks shut his eyes in learned in the law declared their successful labours ended,pronouncing it and shook his hair over them, he had alternated they had confided in no other human being.from sudden lights and hopes to sudden darkness and no hopes, ‘So if the whole thing had broken down, sir,’ concludedand back again, and back again. How he had made acquaintancesin the Prison, expressly that he might come and go there when I showed you our papers in the Prison yard, or say thatPancks, ‘at the very last, say the day before the other dayas all other comers and goers did; and how his first ray of light very day, nobody but ourselves would have been cruelly disappointed,or a penny the worse.’was unconsciously given him by Mr Dorrit himself and by hisson; to both of whom he easily became known; with both of Clennam, who had been almost incessantly shaking handswhom he talked much, casually (‘but always Moleing you’ll with him throughout the narrative, was reminded by this to say,403

Charles Dickensin an amazement which even the preparation he had had for Arthur felt an awkward consciousness of having, in his exultantcondition, been a little premature.the main disclosure smoothed down, ‘My dear Mr Pancks,this must have cost you a great sum of money.’‘I said to that boiling-over old Christian,’ Mr Pancks pursued,appearing greatly to relish this descriptive epithet, ‘that I‘Pretty well, sir,’ said the triumphant Pancks. ‘No trifle,though we did it as cheap as it could be done. And the outlay had got a little project on hand; a hopeful one; I told him awas a difficulty, let me tell you.’hopeful one; which wanted a certain small capital. I proposed‘A difficulty!’ repeated Clennam. ‘But the difficulties you to him to lend me the money on my note. Which he did, athave so wonderfully conquered in the whole business!’ shakinghis hand again.ting it into the note, to look like a part of the principal. If I hadtwenty; sticking the twenty on in a business-like way, and put-‘I’ll tell you how I did it,’ said the delighted Pancks, putting broken down after that, I should have been his grubber for thehis hair into a condition as elevated as himself. ‘First, I spent next seven years at half wages and double grind. But he’s aall I had of my own. That wasn’t much.’perfect Patriarch; and it would do a man good to serve him on‘I am sorry for it,’ said Clennam: ‘not that it matters now, such terms—on any terms.’though. Then, what did you do?’Arthur for his life could not have said with confidence whether‘Then,’ answered Pancks, ‘I borrowed a sum of my proprietor.’ Pancks really thought so or not.‘Of Mr Casby?’ said Clennam. ‘He’s a fine old fellow.’ ‘When that was gone, sir,’ resumed Pancks, ‘and it did go,‘Noble old boy; an’t he?’ said Mr Pancks, entering on a though I dribbled it out like so much blood, I had taken Mrseries of the dryest snorts. ‘Generous old buck. Confiding old Rugg into the secret. I proposed to borrow of Mr Rugg (or ofboy. Philanthropic old buck. Benevolent old boy! Twenty per Miss Rugg; it’s the same thing; she made a little money by acent. I engaged to pay him, sir. But we never do business for speculation in the Common Pleas once). He lent it at ten, andless at our shop.’thought that pretty high. But Mr Rugg’s a red-haired man, sir,404

Little Dorrit – Book Oneand gets his hair cut. And as to the crown of his hat, it’s high. more hearty shake of the hand with Clennam, he went at fullAnd as to the brim of his hat, it’s narrow. And there’s no more speed down-stairs, and steamed off.benevolence bubbling out of him, than out of a ninepin.’ Clennam, of course, resolved to go direct to Mr Casby’s.‘Your own recompense for all this, Mr Pancks,’ said He dressed and got out so quickly that he found himself at theClennam, ‘ought to be a large one.’corner of the patriarchal street nearly an hour before her time;‘I don’t mistrust getting it, sir,’ said Pancks. ‘I have made no but he was not sorry to have the opportunity of calming himselfwith a leisurely walk.bargain. I owed you one on that score; now I have paid it.Money out of pocket made good, time fairly allowed for, and When he returned to the street, and had knocked at theMr Rugg’s bill settled, a thousand pounds would be a fortune bright brass knocker, he was informed that she had come, andto me. That matter I place in your hands. I authorize you now was shown up-stairs to Flora’s breakfast-room. Little Dorritto break all this to the family in any way you think best. Miss was not there herself, but Flora was, and testified the greatestAmy Dorrit will be with Mrs Finching this morning. The sooner amazement at seeing him.done the better. Can’t be done too soon.’‘Good gracious, Arthur—Doyce and Clennam!’ cried thatThis conversation took place in Clennam’s bed-room, while lady, ‘who would have ever thought of seeing such a sight ashe was yet in bed. For Mr Pancks had knocked up the house this and pray excuse a wrapper for upon my word I reallyand made his way in, very early in the morning; and, without never and a faded check too which is worse but our little friendonce sitting down or standing still, had delivered himself of the is making me a, not that I need mind mentioning it to you forwhole of his details (illustrated with a variety of documents) at you must know that there are such things a skirt, and havingthe bedside. He now said he would ‘go and look up Mr Rugg’, arranged that a trying on should take place after breakfast isfrom whom his excited state of mind appeared to require anotherback; and bundling up his papers, and exchanging one ‘I ought to make an apology,’ said Arthur, ‘for so earlythe reason though I wish not so badly starched.’and405

Charles Dickensabrupt a visit; but you will excuse it when I tell you the cause.’ she comes down from cutting out on the large table overhead.’‘In times for ever fled Arthur,’ returned Mrs Finching, ‘pray Arthur then told her, in the fewest words, that it was theirexcuse me Doyce and Clennam infinitely more correct and little friend he came to see; and what he had to announce tothough unquestionably distant still ’tis distance lends enchantmentto the view, at least I don’t mean that and if I did I sup-her hands, fell into a tremble, and shed tears of sympathy andtheir little friend. At which astounding intelligence, Flora claspedpose it would depend considerably on the nature of the view, pleasure, like the good-natured creature she really was.but I’m running on again and you put it all out of my head.’ ‘For goodness sake let me get out of the way first,’ saidShe glanced at him tenderly, and resumed:Flora, putting her hands to her ears and moving towards the‘In times for ever fled I was going to say it would have door, ‘or I know I shall go off dead and screaming and makesounded strange indeed for Arthur Clennam—Doyce and everybody worse, and the dear little thing only this morningClennam naturally quite different—to make apologies for cominghere at any time, but that is past and what is past can never fortune is she really and deserves it too! and might I mention itlooking so nice and neat and good and yet so poor and now abe recalled except in his own case as poor Mr F. said when he to Mr F.’s Aunt Arthur not Doyce and Clennam for this oncewas in spirits Cucumber and therefore never ate it.’or if objectionable not on any account.’She was making the tea when Arthur came in, and now hastily Arthur nodded his free permission, since Flora shut out allfinished that operation.verbal communication. Flora nodded in return to thank him,‘Papa,’ she said, all mystery and whisper, as she shut down and hurried out of the room.the tea-pot lid, ‘is sitting prosingly breaking his new laid egg in Little Dorrit’s step was already on the stairs, and in anotherthe back parlour over the City article exactly like the WoodpeckerTapping and need never know that you are here, and his face, he could not convey so much of an ordinary expres-moment she was at the door. Do what he could to composeour little friend you are well aware may be fully trusted when sion into it, but that the moment she saw it she dropped her406

Little Dorrit – Book Onework, and cried, ‘Mr Clennam! What’s the matter?’ few hours. Remember we must go to him from here, to tell him‘ Nothing, nothing. That is, no misfortune has happened. I of it!’have come to tell you something, but it is a piece of great That brought her back. Her eyes were closing, but theygood-fortune.’ ‘Good-fortune?’opened again.‘Wonderful fortune!’‘This is not all the good-fortune. This is not all the wonderfulThey stood in a window, and her eyes, full of light, were good-fortune, my dear Little Dorrit. Shall I tell you more?’fixed upon his face. He put an arm about her, seeing her likely Her lips shaped ‘Yes.’to sink down. She put a hand upon that arm, partly to rest ‘Your father will be no beggar when he is free. He will wantupon it, and partly so to preserve their relative positions as for nothing. Shall I tell you more? Remember! He knows nothingof it; we must go to him, from here, to tell him of it!’that her intent look at him should be shaken by no change ofattitude in either of them. Her lips seemed to repeat ‘Wonderfulfortune?’ He repeated it again, aloud.arm, and, after a pause, bent down his ear to listen.She seemed to entreat him for a little time. He held her in his‘Dear Little Dorrit! Your father.’‘Did you ask me to go on?’The ice of the pale face broke at the word, and little lights ‘Yes.’and shoots of expression passed all over it. They were all expressionsof pain. Her breath was faint and hurried. Her heart money is waiting to be paid over to him as his inheritance; you‘He will be a rich man. He is a rich man. A great sum ofbeat fast. He would have clasped the little figure closer, but he are all henceforth very wealthy. Bravest and best of children, Isaw that the eyes appealed to him not to be moved. thank Heaven that you are rewarded!’‘Your father can be free within this week. He does not know As he kissed her, she turned her head towards his shoulder,it; we must go to him from here, to tell him of it. Your father and raised her arm towards his neck; cried out ‘Father! Father!Father!’ and swooned will be free within a few days. Your father will be free within aaway.407

Charles DickensUpon which Flora returned to take care of her, and hovered discovery, and to relieve those inveterate feelings with whichabout her on a sofa, intermingling kind offices and incoherent Mr F.’s Aunt regarded him.scraps of conversation in a manner so confounding, that whether But Little Dorrit’s solicitude to get to her father, and to carryshe pressed the Marshalsea to take a spoonful of unclaimed the joyful tidings to him, and not to leave him in his jail a momentwith this happiness in store for him and still unknown todividends, for it would do her good; or whether she congratulatedLittle Dorrit’s father on coming into possession of a hundredthousand smelling-bottles; or whether she explained that attention on earth could have done. ‘Come with me to myhim, did more for her speedy restoration than all the skill andshe put seventy-five thousand drops of spirits of lavender on dear father. Pray come and tell my dear father!’ were the firstfifty thousand pounds of lump sugar, and that she entreated words she said. Her father, her father. She spoke of nothingLittle Dorrit to take that gentle restorative; or whether she but him, thought of nothing but him. Kneeling down and pouringout her thankfulness with uplifted hands, her thanks werebathed the foreheads of Doyce and Clennam in vinegar, andgave the late Mr F. more air; no one with any sense of responsibilitycould have undertaken to decide. A tributary stream of Flora’s tenderness was quite overcome by this, and shefor her father.confusion, moreover, poured in from an adjoining bedroom, launched out among the cups and saucers into a wonderfulwhere Mr F.’s Aunt appeared, from the sound of her voice, to flow of tears and speech.be in a horizontal posture, awaiting her breakfast; and from ‘I declare,’ she sobbed, ‘I never was so cut up since yourwhich bower that inexorable lady snapped off short taunts, mama and my papa not Doyce and Clennam for this once butwhenever she could get a hearing, as, ‘Don’t believe it’s his give the precious little thing a cup of tea and make her put it todoing!’ and ‘He needn’t take no credit to himself for it!’ and her lips at least pray Arthur do, not even Mr F.’s last illness for‘It’ll be long enough, I expect, afore he’ll give up any of his that was of another kind and gout is not a child’s affectionown money!’ all designed to disparage Clennam’s share in the though very painful for all parties and Mr F. a martyr with his408

Little Dorrit – Book Oneleg upon a rest and the wine trade in itself inflammatory for Thus Flora, in taking leave of her favourite. Little Dorritthey will do it more or less among themselves and who can thanked her, and embraced her, over and over again; and finallycame out of the house with Clennam, and took coach forwonder, it seems like a dream I am sure to think of nothing atall this morning and now Mines of money is it really, but you the Marshalsea.must know my darling love because you never will be strong It was a strangely unreal ride through the old squalid streets,enough to tell him all about it upon teaspoons, mightn’t it be with a sensation of being raised out of them into an airy worldeven best to try the directions of my own medical man for of wealth and grandeur. When Arthur told her that she wouldthough the flavour is anything but agreeable still I force myself soon ride in her own carriage through very different scenes,to do it as a prescription and find the benefit, you’d rather not when all the familiar experiences would have vanished away,why no my dear I’d rather not but still I do it as a duty, everybodywill congratulate you some in earnest and some not and herself, and told her how he would ride in his carriage, andshe looked frightened. But when he substituted her father formany will congratulate you with all their hearts but none more how great and grand he would be, her tears of joy and innocentpride fell fast. Seeing that the happiness her mind couldso I do assure you from the bottom of my own I do myselfthough sensible of blundering and being stupid, and will be realise was all shining upon him, Arthur kept that single figurejudged by Arthur not Doyce and Clennam for this once so before her; and so they rode brightly through the poor streetsgood-bye darling and God bless you and may you be very in the prison neighbourhood to carry him the great news.happy and excuse the liberty, vowing that the dress shall never When Mr Chivery, who was on duty, admitted them into thebe finished by anybody else but shall be laid by for a keepsake Lodge, he saw something in their faces which filled him withjust as it is and called Little Dorrit though why that strangest of astonishment. He stood looking after them, when they hurrieddenominations at any time I never did myself and now I never into the prison, as though he perceived that they had comeshall!’back accompanied by a ghost a-piece. Two or three Colle-409

Charles Dickensgians whom they passed, looked after them too, and presently ‘You have been made so happy, my dear?’joining Mr Chivery, formed a little group on the Lodge steps, ‘By Mr Clennam, father. He brought me such joyful andin the midst of which there spontaneously originated a whisper wonderful intelligence about you! If he had not with his greatthat the Father was going to get his discharge. Within a few kindness and gentleness, prepared me for it, father—preparedminutes, it was heard in the remotest room in the College. me for it, father—I think I could not have borne it.’Little Dorrit opened the door from without, and they both Her agitation was exceedingly great, and the tears rolledentered. He was sitting in his old grey gown and his old black down her face. He put his hand suddenly to his heart, andcap, in the sunlight by the window, reading his newspaper. His looked at Clennam.glasses were in his hand, and he had just looked round; surprisedat first, no doubt, by her step upon the stairs, not ex-to think. To think of the brightest and most fortunate accidents‘Compose yourself, sir,’ said Clennam, ‘and take a little timepecting her until night; surprised again, by seeing Arthur of life. We have all heard of great surprises of joy. They areClennam in her company. As they came in, the same unwonted not at an end, sir. They are rare, but not at an end.’look in both of them which had already caught attention in the ‘Mr Clennam? Not at an end? Not at an end for—’ Heyard below, struck him. He did not rise or speak, but laid touched himself upon the breast, instead of saying ‘me.’down his glasses and his newspaper on the table beside him, ‘No,’ returned Clennam.and looked at them with his mouth a little open and his lips ‘What surprise,’ he asked, keeping his left hand over histrembling. When Arthur put out his hand, he touched it, but heart, and there stopping in his speech, while with his rightnot with his usual state; and then he turned to his daughter, hand he put his glasses exactly level on the table: ‘what suchwho had sat down close beside him with her hands upon his surprise can be in store for me?’shoulder, and looked attentively in her face.‘Let me answer with another question. Tell me, Mr Dorrit,‘Father! I have been made so happy this morning!’ what surprise would be the most unlooked for and the most410

Little Dorrit – Book Oneacceptable to you. Do not be afraid to imagine it, or to say truth; and poured out her full heart in gratitude, hope, joy, blissfulwhat it would be.’ecstasy, and all for him.He looked steadfastly at Clennam, and, so looking at him, ‘I shall see him as I never saw him yet. I shall see my dearseemed to change into a very old haggard man. The sun was love, with the dark cloud cleared away. I shall see him, as mybright upon the wall beyond the window, and on the spikes at poor mother saw him long ago. O my dear, my dear! O father,top. He slowly stretched out the hand that had been upon his father! O thank God, thank God!’heart, and pointed at the wall.He yielded himself to her kisses and caresses, but did not‘It is down,’ said Clennam. ‘Gone!’return them, except that he put an arm about her. Neither didHe remained in the same attitude, looking steadfastly at him. he say one word. His steadfast look was now divided betweenher and Clennam, and he began to shake as if he were‘And in its place,’ said Clennam, slowly and distinctly, ‘arethe means to possess and enjoy the utmost that they have so very cold. Explaining to Little Dorrit that he would run to thelong shut out. Mr Dorrit, there is not the smallest doubt that coffee-house for a bottle of wine, Arthur fetched it with all thewithin a few days you will be free, and highly prosperous. I haste he could use. While it was being brought from the cellarcongratulate you with all my soul on this change of fortune, to the bar, a number of excited people asked him what hadand on the happy future into which you are soon to carry the happened; when he hurriedly informed them that Mr Dorrittreasure you have been blest with here—the best of all the had succeeded to a fortune.riches you can have elsewhere—the treasure at your side.’ On coming back with the wine in his hand, he found that sheWith those words, he pressed his hand and released it; and had placed her father in his easy chair, and had loosened hishis daughter, laying her face against his, encircled him in the shirt and neckcloth. They filled a tumbler with wine, and held ithour of his prosperity with her arms, as she had in the long to his lips. When he had swallowed a little, he took the glassyears of his adversity encircled him with her love and toil and himself and emptied it. Soon after that, he leaned back in his411

Charles Dickenschair and cried, with his handkerchief before his face.‘Will you allow me,’ said Arthur, laying his purse on the table,After this had lasted a while Clennam thought it a good seasonfor diverting his attention from the main surprise, by relat-best to bring a sum of money for the purpose.’‘to supply any present contingencies, Mr Dorrit? I thought iting its details. Slowly, therefore, and in a quiet tone of voice, ‘Thank you, sir, thank you. I accept with readiness, at thehe explained them as best he could, and enlarged on the natureof Pancks’s service.tiously taken. I am obliged to you for the temporary accom-present moment, what I could not an hour ago have conscien-‘He shall be—ha—he shall be handsomely recompensed, modation. Exceedingly temporary, but well timed—well timed.’sir,’ said the Father, starting up and moving hurriedly about the His hand had closed upon the money, and he carried it aboutroom. ‘Assure yourself, Mr Clennam, that everybody concernedshall be—ha—shall be nobly rewarded. No one, my advances to which I have already referred; being careful, ifwith him. ‘Be so kind, sir, as to add the amount to those formerdear sir, shall say that he has an unsatisfied claim against me. I you please, not to omit advances made to my son. A mereshall repay the—hum—the advances I have had from you, sir, verbal statement of the gross amount is all I shall—ha—all Iwith peculiar pleasure. I beg to be informed at your earliest shall require.’convenience, what advances you have made my son.’ His eye fell upon his daughter at this point, and he stoppedHe had no purpose in going about the room, but he was not for a moment to kiss her, and to pat her head.still a moment.‘It will be necessary to find a milliner, my love, and to make‘Everybody,’ he said, ‘shall be remembered. I will not go away a speedy and complete change in your very plain dress. Somethingmust be done with Maggy too, who at present is—ha—from here in anybody’s debt. All the people who have been—ha—well behaved towards myself and my family, shall be rewarded.Chivery shall be rewarded. Young John shall be rewarded. and your brother. And my brother, your uncle—poor soul, Ibarely respectable, barely respectable. And your sister, Amy,I particularly wish, and intend, to act munificently, Mr Clennam.’ trust this will rouse him—messengers must be despatched to412

Little Dorrit – Book Onefetch them. They must be informed of this. We must break it to taking Clennam and his daughter for supporters, appeared atthem cautiously, but they must be informed directly. We owe it the window leaning on an arm of each. The Collegians cheeredas a duty to them and to ourselves, from this moment, not to him very heartily, and he kissed his hand to them with greatlet them—hum—not to let them do anything.’urbanity and protection. When he withdrew into the room again,This was the first intimation he had ever given, that he was he said ‘Poor creatures!’ in a tone of much pity for their miserablecondition.privy to the fact that they did something for a livelihood.He was still jogging about the room, with the purse clutched Little Dorrit was deeply anxious that he should lie down toin his hand, when a great cheering arose in the yard. ‘The compose himself. On Arthur’s speaking to her of his going tonews has spread already,’ said Clennam, looking down from inform Pancks that he might now appear as soon as he would,the window. ‘Will you show yourself to them, Mr Dorrit? They and pursue the joyful business to its close, she entreated him inare very earnest, and they evidently wish it.’a whisper to stay with her until her father should be quite calm‘I—hum—ha—I confess I could have desired, Amy my and at rest. He needed no second entreaty; and she prepareddear,’ he said, jogging about in a more feverish flutter than her father’s bed, and begged him to lie down. For anotherbefore, ‘to have made some change in my dress first, and to half-hour or more he would be persuaded to do nothing buthave bought a—hum—a watch and chain. But if it must be go about the room, discussing with himself the probabilities fordone as it is, it—ha—it must be done. Fasten the collar of my and against the Marshal’s allowing the whole of the prisonersshirt, my dear. Mr Clennam, would you oblige me—hum— to go to the windows of the official residence which commandedwith a blue neckcloth you will find in that drawer at your elbow.Button my coat across at the chest, my love. It looks— riage—which, he said, he thought would be a Sight for them.the street, to see himself and family depart for ever in a car-ha—it looks broader, buttoned.’But gradually he began to droop and tire, and at last stretchedWith his trembling hand he pushed his grey hair up, and then, himself upon the bed.413

Charles DickensShe took her faithful place beside him, fanning him and coolinghis forehead; and he seemed to be falling asleep (always hair aside, and touching his forehead with her lips, she lookedLittle Dorrit had been thinking too. After softly putting his greywith the money in his hand), when he unexpectedly sat up and towards Arthur, who came nearer to her, and pursued in a lowsaid:whisper the subject of her thoughts.‘Mr Clennam, I beg your pardon. Am I to understand, my ‘Mr Clennam, will he pay all his debts before he leaves here?’dear sir, that I could—ha—could pass through the Lodge at ‘No doubt. All.’this moment, and—hum—take a walk?’‘All the debts for which he had been imprisoned here, all my‘I think not, Mr Dorrit,’ was the unwilling reply. ‘There are life and longer?’certain forms to be completed; and although your detention ‘No doubt.’here is now in itself a form, I fear it is one that for a little longer There was something of uncertainty and remonstrance in herhas to be observed too.’look; something that was not all satisfaction. He wondered toAt this he shed tears again.detect it, and said:‘It is but a few hours, sir,’ Clennam cheerfully urged upon him. ‘You are glad that he should do so?’‘A few hours, sir,’ he returned in a sudden passion. ‘You ‘Are you?’ asked Little Dorrit, wistfully.talk very easily of hours, sir! How long do you suppose, sir, ‘Am I? Most heartily glad!’that an hour is to a man who is choking for want of air?’ ‘Then I know I ought to be.’It was his last demonstration for that time; as, after shedding ‘And are you not?’some more tears and querulously complaining that he couldn’t ‘It seems to me hard,’ said Little Dorrit, ‘that he should havebreathe, he slowly fell into a slumber. Clennam had abundant lost so many years and suffered so much, and at last pay all theoccupation for his thoughts, as he sat in the quiet room watchingthe father on his bed, and the daughter fanning his face. and moneydebts as well. It seems to me hard that he should pay in lifeboth.’414

‘My dear child—’ Clennam was beginning.‘Yes, I know I am wrong,’ she pleaded timidly, ‘don’t thinkany worse of me; it has grown up with me here.’The prison, which could spoil so many things, had taintedLittle Dorrit’s mind no more than this. Engendered as the confusionwas, in compassion for the poor prisoner, her father, itwas the first speck Clennam had ever seen, it was the lastspeck Clennam ever saw, of the prison atmosphere upon her.He thought this, and forebore to say another word. With thethought, her purity and goodness came before him in theirbrightest light. The little spot made them the more beautiful.Worn out with her own emotions, and yielding to the silenceof the room, her hand slowly slackened and failed in its fanningmovement, and her head dropped down on the pillow at herfather’s side. Clennam rose softly, opened and closed the doorwithout a sound, and passed from the prison, carrying the quietwith him into the turbulent streets.Little Dorrit – Book OneCHAPTER 36 The Marshalseabecomes an OrphanAND NOW THE DAY arrived when Mr Dorrit and his family wereto leave the prison for ever, and the stones of its much-troddenpavement were to know them no more.The interval had been short, but he had greatly complainedof its length, and had been imperious with Mr Rugg touchingthe delay. He had been high with Mr Rugg, and had threatenedto employ some one else. He had requested Mr Ruggnot to presume upon the place in which he found him, but todo his duty, sir, and to do it with promptitude. He had told MrRugg that he knew what lawyers and agents were, and that hewould not submit to imposition. On that gentleman’s humblyrepresenting that he exerted himself to the utmost, Miss Fannywas very short with him; desiring to know what less he coulddo, when he had been told a dozen times that money was noobject, and expressing her suspicion that he forgot whom hetalked to.Towards the Marshal, who was a Marshal of many years’standing, and with whom he had never had any previous dif-415

Charles Dickensference, Mr Dorrit comported himself with severity. That officer,on personally tendering his congratulations, offered the Fanny said, the best was very indifferent. In connection withthe best hotel in the neighbourhood—though truly, as Missfree use of two rooms in his house for Mr Dorrit’s occupation that establishment, Mr Tip hired a cabriolet, horse, and groom,until his departure. Mr Dorrit thanked him at the moment, and a very neat turn out, which was usually to be observed for tworeplied that he would think of it; but the Marshal was no sooner or three hours at a time gracing the Borough High Street, outsidethe Marshalsea court-yard. A modest little hired chariotgone than he sat down and wrote him a cutting note, in whichhe remarked that he had never on any former occasion had and pair was also frequently to be seen there; in alighting fromthe honour of receiving his congratulations (which was true, and entering which vehicle, Miss Fanny fluttered the Marshal’sthough indeed there had not been anything particular to congratulatehim upon), and that he begged, on behalf of himself A great deal of business was transacted in this short period.daughters by the display of inaccessible bonnets.and family, to repudiate the Marshal’s offer, with all those thanks Among other items, Messrs Peddle and Pool, solicitors, ofwhich its disinterested character and its perfect independence Monument Yard, were instructed by their client Edward Dorrit,of all worldly considerations demanded.Esquire, to address a letter to Mr Arthur Clennam, enclosingAlthough his brother showed so dim a glimmering of interest the sum of twenty-four pounds nine shillings and eightpence,in their altered fortunes that it was very doubtful whether he being the amount of principal and interest computed at the rateunderstood them, Mr Dorrit caused him to be measured for of five per cent. per annum, in which their client believed himselfto be indebted to Mr Clennam. In making this communi-new raiment by the hosiers, tailors, hatters, and bootmakerswhom he called in for himself; and ordered that his old clothes cation and remittance, Messrs Peddle and Pool were furthershould be taken from him and burned. Miss Fanny and Mr Tip instructed by their client to remind Mr Clennam that the favourrequired no direction in making an appearance of great fashionand elegance; and the three passed this interval together at asked of him, and to inform him that it would not haveof the advance now repaid (including gate-fees) had not beenbeen416

Little Dorrit – Book Oneaccepted if it had been openly proffered in his name. With thing of the sort might yet happen to themselves some day orwhich they requested a stamped receipt, and remained his other. They took it very well. A few were low at the thought ofobedient servants. A great deal of business had likewise to be being left behind, and being left poor; but even these did notdone, within the so-soon-to-be-orphaned Marshalsea, by Mr grudge the family their brilliant reverse. There might have beenDorrit so long its Father, chiefly arising out of applications made much more envy in politer places. It seems probable that mediocrityof fortune would have been disposed to be less mag-to him by Collegians for small sums of money. To these heresponded with the greatest liberality, and with no lack of formality;always first writing to appoint a time at which the appli-from the pawnbroker’s hand to the day’s dinner.nanimous than the Collegians, who lived from hand to mouth—cant might wait upon him in his room, and then receiving him in They got up an address to him, which they presented in athe midst of a vast accumulation of documents, and accompanyinghis donation (for he said in every such case, ‘it is a dona-in the family mansion or preserved among the family papers);neat frame and glass (though it was not afterwards displayedtion, not a loan’) with a great deal of good counsel: to the and to which he returned a gracious answer. In that documenteffect that he, the expiring Father of the Marshalsea, hoped to he assured them, in a Royal manner, that he received the professionof their attachment with a full conviction of its sincerity;be long remembered, as an example that a man might preservehis own and the general respect even there.and again generally exhorted them to follow his example—The Collegians were not envious. Besides that they had a which, at least in so far as coming into a great property waspersonal and traditional regard for a Collegian of so many years’ concerned, there is no doubt they would have gladly imitated.standing, the event was creditable to the College, and made it He took the same occasion of inviting them to a comprehensiveentertainment, to be given to the whole College in thefamous in the newspapers. Perhaps more of them thought,too, than were quite aware of it, that the thing might in the yard, and at which he signified he would have the honour oflottery of chances have happened to themselves, or that some-taking a parting glass to the health and happiness of all those417

Charles Dickenswhom he was about to leave behind.spoke to the toast, saying, What you undertake to lock up,He did not in person dine at this public repast (it took place lock up; but remember that you are, in the words of the fetteredAfrican, a man and a brother ever. The list of toastsat two in the afternoon, and his dinners now came in from thehotel at six), but his son was so good as to take the head of the disposed of, Mr Dorrit urbanely went through the motions ofprincipal table, and to be very free and engaging. He himself playing a game of skittles with the Collegian who was the nextwent about among the company, and took notice of individuals,and saw that the viands were of the quality he had orsions.oldest inhabitant to himself; and left the tenantry to their diverdered,and that all were served. On the whole, he was like a But all these occurrences preceded the final day. And nowbaron of the olden time in a rare good humour. At the conclusionof the repast, he pledged his guests in a bumper of old for ever, and when the stones of its much-trodden pavementthe day arrived when he and his family were to leave the prisonMadeira; and told them that he hoped they had enjoyed themselves,and what was more, that they would enjoy themselves Noon was the hour appointed for the departure. As it ap-were to know them no more.for the rest of the evening; that he wished them well; and that proached, there was not a Collegian within doors, nor a turnkeyabsent. The latter class of gentlemen appeared in theirhe bade them welcome.His health being drunk with acclamations, he was not so Sunday clothes, and the greater part of the Collegians werebaronial after all but that in trying to return thanks he broke brightened up as much as circumstances allowed. Two or threedown, in the manner of a mere serf with a heart in his breast, flags were even displayed, and the children put on odds andand wept before them all. After this great success, which he ends of ribbon. Mr Dorrit himself, at this trying time, preservedsupposed to be a failure, he gave them ‘Mr Chivery and his a serious but graceful dignity. Much of his great attention wasbrother officers;’ whom he had beforehand presented with ten given to his brother, as to whose bearing on the great occasionpounds each, and who were all in attendance. Mr Chivery he felt anxious.418

Little Dorrit – Book One‘My dear Frederick,’ said he, ‘if you will give me your arm adorn it. To be no discredit to it, but to adorn it.’we will pass among our friends together. I think it is right that ‘William,’ said the other weakly, and with a sigh, ‘I will dowe should go out arm in arm, my dear Frederick.’anything you wish, my brother, provided it lies in my power.‘Hah!’ said Frederick. ‘Yes, yes, yes, yes.’Pray be so kind as to recollect what a limited power mine is.‘And if, my dear Frederick—if you could, without putting What would you wish me to do to-day, brother? Say what itany great constraint upon yourself, throw a little (pray excuse is, only say what it is.’me, Frederick), a little Polish into your usual demeanour—’ ‘My dearest Frederick, nothing. It is not worth troubling so‘William, William,’ said the other, shaking his head, ‘it’s for good a heart as yours with.’you to do all that. I don’t know how. All forgotten, forgotten!’ ‘Pray trouble it,’ returned the other. ‘It finds it no trouble,‘But, my dear fellow,’ returned William, ‘for that very reason,if for no other, you must positively try to rouse yourself. William passed his hand across his eyes, and murmured withWilliam, to do anything it can for you.’What you have forgotten you must now begin to recall, my august satisfaction, ‘Blessings on your attachment, my poordear Frederick. Your position—’dear fellow!’ Then he said aloud, ‘Well, my dear Frederick, if‘Eh?’ said Frederick.you will only try, as we walk out, to show that you are alive to‘Your position, my dear Frederick.’the occasion —that you think about it—’‘Mine?’ He looked first at his own figure, and then at his ‘What would you advise me to think about it?’ returned hisbrother’s, and then, drawing a long breath, cried, ‘Hah, to be submissive brother.sure! Yes, yes, yes.’ ‘Your position, my dear Frederick, is ‘Oh! my dear Frederick, how can I answer you? I can onlynow a fine one. Your position, as my brother, is a very fine say what, in leaving these good people, I think myself.’one. And I know that it belongs to your conscientious nature ‘That’s it!’ cried his brother. ‘That will help me.’to try to become worthy of it, my dear Frederick, and to try to ‘I find that I think, my dear Frederick, and with mixed emo-419

Charles Dickenstions in which a softened compassion predominates, What will the shadowy grievance respecting the Fund which the Marshalembezzled, who had got up at five in the morning to com-they do without me!’‘True,’ returned his brother. ‘Yes, yes, yes, yes. I’ll think plete the copying of a perfectly unintelligible history of thatthat as we go, What will they do without my brother! Poor transaction, which he had committed to Mr Dorrit’s care, as athings! What will they do without him!’document of the last importance, calculated to stun the Governmentand effect the Marshal’s downfall. In the yard, wasTwelve o’clock having just struck, and the carriage beingreported ready in the outer court-yard, the brothers proceeded the insolvent whose utmost energies were always set on gettinginto debt, who broke into prison with as much pains asdown-stairs arm-in-arm. Edward Dorrit, Esquire (once Tip),and his sister Fanny followed, also arm-in-arm; Mr Plornish other men have broken out of it, and who was always beingand Maggy, to whom had been entrusted the removal of such cleared and complimented; while the insolvent at his elbow—of the family effects as were considered worth removing, followed,bearing bundles and burdens to be packed in a cart. ious efforts to keep out of debt—found it a hard matter, in-a mere little, snivelling, striving tradesman, half dead of anx-In the yard, were the Collegians and turnkeys. In the yard, deed, to get a Commissioner to release him with much reproofwere Mr Pancks and Mr Rugg, come to see the last touch and reproach. In the yard, was the man of many children andgiven to their work. In the yard, was Young John making a many burdens, whose failure astonished everybody; in the yard,new epitaph for himself, on the occasion of his dying of a brokenheart. In the yard, was the Patriarchal Casby, looking so astonished nobody. There, were the people who were alwayswas the man of no children and large resources, whose failuretremendously benevolent that many enthusiastic Collegians going out to-morrow, and always putting it off; there, were thegrasped him fervently by the hand, and the wives and female people who had come in yesterday, and who were much morerelatives of many more Collegians kissed his hand, nothing jealous and resentful of this freak of fortune than the seasoneddoubting that he had done it all. In the yard, was the man with birds. There, were some who, in pure meanness of spirit,420

Little Dorrit – Book Onecringed and bowed before the enriched Collegian and his family; the gate, and that the Marshalsea was an orphan. Before theythere, were others who did so really because their eyes, accustomedto the gloom of their imprisonment and poverty, could had got into their carriage, and the attendant had the steps inhad ceased to ring in the echoes of the prison walls, the familynot support the light of such bright sunshine. There, were many his hand.whose shillings had gone into his pocket to buy him meat and Then, and not before, ‘Good Gracious!’ cried Miss Fannydrink; but none who were now obtrusively Hail fellow well all at once, ‘Where’s Amy!’met! with him, on the strength of that assistance. It was rather Her father had thought she was with her sister. Her sisterto be remarked of the caged birds, that they were a little shy of had thought she was ‘somewhere or other.’ They had all trustedthe bird about to be so grandly free, and that they had a tendencyto withdraw themselves towards the bars, and seem a place at the right moment. This going away was perhaps theto finding her, as they had always done, quietly in the rightlittle fluttered as he passed.very first action of their joint lives that they had got throughThrough these spectators the little procession, headed by without her.the two brothers, moved slowly to the gate. Mr Dorrit, yieldingto the vast speculation how the poor creatures were to get these points, when Miss Fanny, who, from her seat in the car-A minute might have been consumed in the ascertaining ofon without him, was great, and sad, but not absorbed. He riage, commanded the long narrow passage leading to thepatted children on the head like Sir Roger de Coverley going Lodge, flushed indignantly.to church, he spoke to people in the background by their Christiannames, he condescended to all present, and seemed for ‘What is disgraceful, Fanny?’‘Now I do say, Pa,’ cried she, ‘that this is disgraceful!’their consolation to walk encircled by the legend in golden ‘I do say,’ she repeated, ‘this is perfectly infamous! Reallycharacters, ‘Be comforted, my people! Bear it!’almost enough, even at such a time as this, to make one wishAt last three honest cheers announced that he had passed one was dead! Here is that child Amy, in her ugly old shabby421

Charles Dickensdress, which she was so obstinate about, Pa, which I over and am so vexed and ashamed! Do rouse yourself, darling! Oh,over again begged and prayed her to change, and which she why are they not driving on! Pray, Pa, do drive on!’over and over again objected to, and promised to change today,saying she wished to wear it as long as ever she remained door, with a sharp ‘By your leave, sir!’ bundled up the steps,The attendant, getting between Clennam and the carriage-in there with you—which was absolutely romantic nonsense and they drove away.of the lowest kind—here is that child Amy disgracing us to thelast moment and at the last moment, by being carried out inthat dress after all. And by that Mr Clennam too!’The offence was proved, as she delivered the indictment.Clennam appeared at the carriage-door, bearing the little insensiblefigure in his arms.‘She has been forgotten,’ he said, in a tone of pity not freefrom reproach. ‘I ran up to her room (which Mr Chiveryshowed me) and found the door open, and that she had faintedon the floor, dear child. She appeared to have gone to changeher dress, and to have sunk down overpowered. It may havebeen the cheering, or it may have happened sooner. Take careof this poor cold hand, Miss Dorrit. Don’t let it fall.’‘Thank you, sir,’ returned Miss Dorrit, bursting into tears. ‘Ibelieve I know what to do, if you will give me leave. DearAmy, open your eyes, that’s a love! Oh, Amy, Amy, I really422