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Dear Pickwickians,

It has been and long, long time since I read "Hard Times" and I remember very little of it. Unfortunately the only thing I clearly remember is that it was my least favorite of his novels, but perhaps I will warm up to it as we read, after all I certainly don't dislike it to the degree that Tristram dislikes "The Old Curiosity Shop" and poor Little Nell. The first chapter in this week's installment, Chapter 4, titled "Mr. Bounderby" is filled with Mr. Bounderby and I can't stand the guy. Mr. Bounderby is unfortunately Mr. Gradgrind's dearest friend, " as a man perfectly devoid of sentiment can approach that spiritual relationship towards another man perfectly devoid of sentiment." Dickens certainly describes him exactly the way I picture him:

"He was a rich man: banker, merchant, manufacturer, and what not. A big, loud man, with a stare, and a metallic laugh. A man made out of a coarse material, which seemed to have been stretched to make so much of him. A man with a great puffed head and forehead, swelled veins in his temples, and such a strained skin to his face that it seemed to hold his eyes open, and lift his eyebrows up. A man with a pervading appearance on him of being inflated like a balloon, and ready to start. A man who could never sufficiently vaunt himself a self-made man. A man who was always proclaiming, through that brassy speaking-trumpet of a voice of his, his old ignorance and his old poverty. A man who was the Bully of humility."

The chapter starts with Mr. Bounderby bragging to Mrs. Gradgrind that he is a "self-made man." Mrs. Gradgrind, Dickens describes as:

" a little, thin, white, pink-eyed bundle of shawls, of surpassing feebleness, mental and bodily; who was always taking physic without any effect, and who, whenever she showed a symptom of coming to life, was invariably stunned by some weighty piece of fact tumbling on her;"

As she listens to Mr. Bounderby's story, the reader can see that he has bored her and anyone else he can corner many times before with his supposedly miserable birth and childhood � born in a ditch, being abandoned by his mother to his drunken grandmother who, among other things, drank fourteen glasses of liquor before breakfast. Now I have no problem with Mr. Bounderby having started poor and through his own hard work and no help from anyone getting to where he was by this time, I do have trouble with his constant bragging about it and I have serious doubts as to how true this story could be. He tells Mr. Gradgrind:

‘I hadn’t a shoe to my foot. As to a stocking, I didn’t know such a thing by name. I passed the day in a ditch, and the night in a pigsty. That’s the way I spent my tenth birthday. Not that a ditch was new to me, for I was born in a ditch.�

Ok, he was born in a ditch, I'm not sure why. Couldn't his mother have had him in some type of building even if it was only a barn? Or perhaps she could have had him in a nice grassy field? But she picked a ditch of all places to give birth. Then for some reason on his tenth birthday he is either still in the ditch or back in the ditch. Why? He's ten, climb out of the ditch. He then goes on to tell us that his mother abandoned him - she apparently managed to leave the ditch - to his grandmother the "wickedest and worst old woman who ever lived." She would sell his shoes, whenever he got any, for money to buy drink, and she used to drink fourteen glasses of liquor before breakfast. That had me wondering if that would be possible, I can't imagine drinking fourteen glasses of anything before breakfast unless you are counting the drinks from the night before. He also tells Mrs. Gradgrind that she kept him in an egg-box, saying that the egg-box was the cot of his infancy. My only thought to that was wondering why she didn't keep the egg box in the house with her, that would be simplier than walking out to a ditch everyday to take care of the infant. In other words, I don't believe his entire story, why you would want to lie about spending your life in ditches and egg-boxes is beyond me, but still I don't believe him.

It is at this point Gradgrind enters and tells Bounderby about his children’s grave misbehavior of spying on the circus. Mrs. Gradgrind scolds the children halfheartedly, telling them to “go and be somethingological.�We are told this is usually the way she sends the children to their studies. On hearing the story Bounderby claims that Sissy Jupe, the circus entertainer’s daughter who attends Gradgrind’s school, may have led the young Gradgrinds astray. Gradgrind agrees and asks Bounderby if he will go with him, and they set out to inform Sissy’s father that Sissy is no longer welcome at the school.

His interest in Louisa is creepy, we were told that Louisa is fifteen or sixteen and he is forty seven or forty eight and that is creepy. We are told that he watches her as they talk and that Gradgrind even mentions the interest Bounderby has shown in the children, especially Louisa, he seems to see nothing wrong with it. The chapter ends with this:

‘It’s all right now, Louisa: it’s all right, young Thomas,� said Mr. Bounderby; ‘you won’t do so any more. I’ll answer for it’s being all over with father. Well, Louisa, that’s worth a kiss, isn’t it?�

‘You can take one, Mr. Bounderby,� returned Louisa, when she had coldly paused, and slowly walked across the room, and ungraciously raised her cheek towards him, with her face turned away.

‘Always my pet; ain’t you, Louisa?� said Mr. Bounderby. ‘Good-bye, Louisa!�

He went his way, but she stood on the same spot, rubbing the cheek he had kissed, with her handkerchief, until it was burning red. She was still doing this, five minutes afterwards.

‘What are you about, Loo?� her brother sulkily remonstrated. ‘You’ll rub a hole in your face.�

‘You may cut the piece out with your penknife if you like, Tom. I wouldn’t cry!�

Chapter five is titled "The Keynote" and begins with a description of Coketown, the town most of our characters live in. Dickens describes this town and people so wonderfully I can picture every part of it, of course it helps that it reminds me of many parts of our valley. He says:

"It was a town of red brick, or of brick that would have been red if the smoke and ashes had allowed it; but as matters stood, it was a town of unnatural red and black like the painted face of a savage. It was a town of machinery and tall chimneys, out of which interminable serpents of smoke trailed themselves for ever and ever, and never got uncoiled. It had a black canal in it, and a river that ran purple with ill-smelling dye, and vast piles of building full of windows where there was a rattling and a trembling all day long, and where the piston of the steam-engine worked monotonously up and down, like the head of an elephant in a state of melancholy madness. It contained several large streets all very like one another, and many small streets still more like one another, inhabited by people equally like one another, who all went in and out at the same hours, with the same sound upon the same pavements, to do the same work, and to whom every day was the same as yesterday and to-morrow, and every year the counterpart of the last and the next."

We don't have much of the smoke he talks about because our "black" comes from coal not factories, although we have our share of factories also. We don't have as many factories or coal breakers as we used to, but they are still there, and the "coal towns" look similar to his description, not as awful but similar. The houses are so much alike (and ugly) that I don't know how you find the right one. I'm not in one of the coal towns but a creek runs through our town that runs through the coal country first and it is called the "black creek" from all the coal dust that used to run in it. They had to stop doing that years ago and now it's clear, but it's still called the black creek.

Dickens tells us that eighteen buildings have been built by members of various religious persuasions in Coketown, but it is not clear who belonged to these eighteen denominations because the working people did not, they stood on street corners looking at the churches and listening to the bells ring on Sunday mornings with no intention to enter any of them. The Teetotal Society complained that these same people would and did get drunk, and nothing would stop them, the chemist and druggist claimed that when they didn’t get drunk, they took opium. The chaplain of the jail told us that the same people would resort to low haunts where there was singing and dancing, and perhaps these same people joined in it; and often ended up in jail because of it. Then came Mr. Gradgrind and Mr. Bounderby who knew that these same people were a bad lot altogether. This is the first mention of the working people that I can think of in the book and perhaps in the next section I'll get a break from Bounderby and Gradgrind if the "working people" enter the story.

As Gradgrind and Bounderby walk through the town they meet Sissy Jupe herself, who is being chased by the Bitzer. Sissy has been out buying oils for her father’s aches and pains. She tells the men that her people often bruise themselves very badly to which Bounderby tells her it "serves them right for being idle". The two men follow her back to the dwelling place of the circus performers and when they arrive she asks them to wait until she gets a candle, and that their dog, Merrylegs, may bark at them but he doesn't doesn't bite. We are told that the house is:

" a mean little public-house, with dim red lights in it. As haggard and as shabby, as if, for want of custom, it had itself taken to drinking, and had gone the way all drunkards go, and was very near the end of it."

The chapter ends with this comment from Bounderby:

‘Merrylegs and nine oils, eh!� said Mr. Bounderby, entering last with his metallic laugh. ‘Pretty well this, for a self-made man!�

Kim wrote: "Dear Pickwickians,

It has been and long, long time since I read "Hard Times" and I remember very little of it. Unfortunately the only thing I clearly remember is that it was my least favorite of h..."

Bounderby is rather creepy. He certainly emphasises his own impoverished beginnings. It seems the early chapters will each focus on a rather specific place or person. I imagine this is due to the space constraints and the weekly format of the writing.

I'm using the Penguin Classic edition of Hard Times and the endnotes are enlightening. Dickens's reference to Adam Smith and Malthus is important. If my memory serves me correctly, HT is closely aligned to and reflective of current historical events in the Victorian era. By naming two of their children after historical figures Dickens accomplishes a couple of interesting points. First, the childrens' names point out the Gradgrind's own personal philosophy. Laissez-faire economics coupled with the theory of over-population and its problems introduce a harshness into the novel on a truly human scale. Second, through the introduction of these names Dickens creates a certainty with his readers of exactly what his novel will be about.

The novel will be blunt, harsh and clearly based on what are major concerns in Great Britain.

Kim wrote: "Chapter five is titled "The Keynote" and begins with a description of Coketown, the town most of our characters live in. Dickens describes this town and people so wonderfully I can picture every pa..."

I think the grime and filth of Coketown is because of the smoke that would have belched from the chimneys as the coal was used to power the machinery. The town sure is ugly. It's physical appearance shows a complete lack of style or variety. Coketown reflects the nature of its purpose to make a profit at any cost. Just as Gradgrind's house was a personification of Grangrind, so Coketown reflects the major function of its inhabitants.

The chasm between the owners of the factories and the upper class with the working class and the poor is clearly shown when Gradgrind and Bounderby set out to find Sissy Jupe's father in Pod's End. Neither know where Pod's End is. Here we see how the rural agrarian world of the past has been replaced with the reality of the industrial present. When Bounderby and Gradgrind encounter Sissy Jupe she is called "[girl] number twenty" by Gradgrind. Sissy is a number, not a person. She is a fact, not a female.

Near the end of this chapter Dickens introduces a bit of humanity into the character of Gradgrind. Perhaps Gradgrind too would have enjoyed a peek under the circus tent as his children did if only, as Dickens says, "he had only made some round mistake in the arithmetic that balanced it, years ago."

Kim wrote: " The first chapter in this week's installment, Chapter 4, titled "Mr. Bounderby" is filled with Mr. Bounderby and I can't stand the guy.."

Since I need to lie down often during the day to rest my leg, I've been listening to Hard Times by audio, and I have to say that the narrator's voicing for Mr. Bounderby is very unpleasant. It seems obvious that his view of Mr. B. matches yours. Nobody could voice somebody that gratingly unless they detested him.

Kim wrote: "His interest in Louisa is creepy, we were told that Louisa is fifteen or sixteen and he is forty seven or forty eight and that is creepy.."

Yes, it's creepy, but it's not that unusual for the Dickensian era. Women married very young, and often to much older and well established men. I don't think, unless I dozed through something, that Mr. B has been married before, but it wasn't unusual for men to go through two or three wives (death in childbirth being sadly all to prevalent) so that their third or even fourth marriage might well be in their 40s, and they would look for a healthy young woman ready to start bearing more children. (Look at Picasso still rutting away in his 90s.)

So while the age difference is creepy to us, I'm not sure it would have been to the original readers.

Louisa clearly doesn't like him and is as creeped out by him as you are, but I wouldn't be astonished (if I ever read the book, and I'm not sure I have, I certainly remember nothing of it) if they do wind up getting married by the end. Why wouldn't Gradgrind want to marry his daughter to his best friend who shares his values and is also very wealthy? And if Gradgrind orders Louisa to marry him, what choice does she have?

Like Peter, I am reading the Penguin edition and really profit from the copious background information given in the annotations. What surprised me was that while in Bleak House the engineer Mr. Rouncewell was a positive character, symbolizing the rise of a new system of values based on meritocracy, progress and industry, now, one novel later, Dickens seems to have taken on a radically different view on industrialization. Even the environmental damage in the wake of industrialization, which is given so much weight in HT, was treated rather tongue-in-cheek in BH.

All the illustrators, the ones I can find anyway, seem to have skipped these two chapters, but hopefully I'll have some next week. Oh, Kyd managed to give us Mr. Bounderby, he's not how I pictured him, but when it comes to Kyd, they seldom are:



Mr. Bounderby

Kyd

I just found an illustration of Mr. Gradgrind done by Harry Furniss. It is the only illustration he did for the novel.:



Commentary:

"Feeling obliged to bolster the circulation of Household Words, early in 1854 Charles Dickens had written the type of serialisation he detested, a novel in compact weekly numbers (1 April-12 August), but his tenth full-length work, Hard Times, an assault on the factory system and urban blight, had proven and remained popular as a fairy tale for the Industrial Age. In subsequent editions, Dickens's short novel was illustrated � modestly, with just four wood-engravings by the leading New Man of the Sixties, Fred Walker in the Illustrated Library Edition of 1868, (we're still not at those yet) and, after Dickens's death, far more extensively in the American and British Household Edition by Charles Stanley Reinhart for Harper and Brothers, New York, in 1876, and by Harry French for Chapman and Hall the following year. Harry Furniss, then, had a substantial body of illustration to which to respond, despite the fact that in its initial publication Hard Times was one of the few Dickens novels to appear without visual accompaniment. As the sole illustrator for the Charles Dickens Library Edition, Furniss could probably have elected to produce a full program of illustration; instead, for volume five he provided thirty-two full-page pen-and-ink illustrations for The Old Curiosity Shop, and just a frontispiece for the second novel in the volume, perhaps because he was well aware that the novel as Dickens first presented it to his public was without any visual adornment or realisation. Uncharacteristically for a plate by Furniss, "Gradgrind" has a mere title and no indication as to which passage the illustrator had in mind."

Sure, it wasn't uncommon for Victorian era young women to marry older men who were financially secure. So Louisa might very well marry Bounderby, but if she does I don't think the point will be because this is accepted Victorian behavior. After all, this is Dickens we're talking about.

More likely marrying Bounderby is the rational thing to do, no? It's looking like the point of this story is that soulless facts absent wonder, imagination, and emotion are intellectually and morally bankrupting. What could be sorrier, more soulless, more bankrupting than for young Louisa to marry Bounderby?

Dickens is portraying Bounderby very carefully. The way Bounderby manipulates Louisa into letting him kiss her is not very Victorian-like. How old is Louisa in this scene? 12 or 13? My reaction is that Bounderby is a farthing or two shy of being a pervert, and I am giving him the benefit of the doubt. How could Louisa or anyone else feel affection for this bloated self-conceit. Ah, but a woman filled with facts and taught to reject affection, emotional attachment, and wonder certainly could marry him. No? And what would that lead to?

Goodness Dickens, save me from my imagination.

Kim wrote: "I just found an illustration of Mr. Gradgrind done by Harry Furniss. It is the only illustration he did for the novel.:



Commentary:

"Feeling obliged to bolster the circulation of Household Word..."

In my mind's eye, Gradgrind is much younger than the person in this illustration. It is noteworthy how his hands seem to have a prominent position. They do look a bit squarish and his (eye?)brow does seem to overhang.

Tristram wrote: "Like Peter, I am reading the Penguin edition and really profit from the copious background information given in the annotations. What surprised me was that while in Bleak House the engineer Mr. Rou..."

Tristram

I agree with your observations concerning the portrayal of the industrialization that existed in mid-Victorian England. It could be that Dickens's main target in BH was the court system as opposed to the horrors of the industrial town as seen in HT.

In BH the industrial son Rouncewell is portrayed favourably. He is seen as a positive creative force in the country. His brother George represented the military and the honourable nature of service to his country and to his family. When George becomes Dedlock's companion he furthers his image of a man who is supportive to the old ways and culture of Great Britain. Their mother represents the tradition of service and faithfulness to the landed gentry of the country.

HT gives the reader the very clear indication that an unfettered faith in industrialism, an unquestioned belief in utilitarianism and a lack of imagination and love within a society is destructive. Bounderby's forced kiss to Louisa's cheek, I think, symbolizes the aggressive self-serving nature of much of what industrialism meant. That Louisa tells her brother Tom he could cut the piece of her cheek kissed by Bounderby out with his penknife suggests that innocence and youth is being carved out of the young and innocent in society. The fact that Mr. Gradgrind has named two of his children Adam Smith and Malthus tells us that business and the harsh reality of survival seem to be the values of the future.

As we read on in HT it will be interesting to see the extent to which names play a part in the meaning and symbolic nature of the book. Perhaps this is the list I'll adopt for the novel.

Xan Shadowflutter wrote: "The way Bounderby manipulates Louisa into letting him kiss her is not very Victorian-like.."

No? Think Charles Dodgson (Lewis Carroll) and his fascination with young girls.

Or, more broadly, Catherine Robson's Men in Wonderland: The Lost Girlhood of the Victorian Gentleman. From the publisher's description: Fascination with little girls pervaded Victorian culture. For many, girls represented the true essence of childhood or bygone times of innocence; but for middle-class men, especially writers, the interest ran much deeper. In Men in Wonderland, Catherine Robson explores the ways in which various nineteenth-century British male authors constructed girlhood, and analyzes the nature of their investment in the figure of the girl."

Hi, Everyman!

Sure, and we have Lewis Carroll's today, but they don't reflect the mores of the larger society. Criminal laws enacted in 1861 placed the age of consent at 12, at 13 in 1874, and attempts in parliament to raise it to 16 in the early 1880's failed but did pass the House of Lords.

Specifically, the 1861 Act included the following section:

49. Whosoever shall, by false Pretences, false Representations, or other fraudulent Means, procure any Woman or Girl under the Age of Twenty-one Years to have illicit carnal Connexion with any Man, shall be guilty of a Misdemeanor, and being convicted thereof shall be liable, at the Discretion of the Court, to be imprisoned for any Term not exceeding Two Years, with or without Hard Labour.

Also child advocacy groups were already forming in the 1860's. Small pickings, I know, but also a clear sign that by the 1860's attitudes were changing. Then again HT was published in 1854. So maybe.

But this isn't just about the era; it's about what Dickens is doing with Bounderby. He makes him repellent even before he kisses Louisa, and i think he knew exactly how his readers would react.

As to Catherine Robson's book, you've got me curious. I'm going to see if I can get a copy from the library. (I don't care enough to buy it.) I did come across this.

What is new about Robson’s argument is her contention that for many well-to-do men the image of perfect childhood, lost and desired, remained feminine. The image of the girl came to embody a longing for their own primary selves, before the competitive and materialistic values of the Victorian gentleman contaminated their lives. It became a pervasive fantasy, not universal, but influential because so deeply rooted in the ideologies of affluence: ‘middle class, religious, paternalist, nostalgic and conservative�.

Not exactly an accusation of mass desire for physical intimacy with young girls.



I'm not sure about any of this. I'm skeptical in general of this kind of historical psychological analysis. But I am interested.

Xan Shadowflutter wrote: "But this isn't just about the era; it's about what Dickens is doing with Bounderby. He makes him repellent even before he kisses Louisa, and i think he knew exactly how his readers would react.."

I do agree that any person of any culture or intelligence or decency would find Bounderby repellent. I mean, that's what bounder means in England, isn't it? But if Gradgrind orders Louisa to marry him, what option does she have?

As far as I can remember, Louisa is 15 or 16 years old at the beginning of the novel - her is mentioned in the context of her first appearance in the novel -, which may justify the assumption that Victorian readers may have regarded her more as a young woman, or as on the brink of entering adult age, than as a child. That ghastly Little Nell, on the other hand, was a 12-year-old child, and Quilp's attempts at kissing her must therefore have struck also Victorian readers as extremely creepy and perverted. As to marrying Louisa, Bounderby will probably bide his time, knowing that Mr. Gradgrind regards him as a perfect match for his daughter.

Quite another question is whether Victorians thought that marriage should be based on economic considerations to such a degree as that they could a) overrule a lack of emotional attachment completely with the effect of women marrying or being married against their inclinations to husbands that they abhorred, and b) that they could justify parents giving their daughters into a marriage against their daughter's will.

These are probably questions that are not easy to answer. At the moment, I am also reading Anthony Trollope's quite plodding novel Ayala's Angel, which centres on these questions. Last night I reached a passage where one of the heroines asked herself the following question:

"It seemed, she said to herself, that people thought that a girl was bound to marry any man who could provide a house for her, and bread to eat, and clothes to wear."

If Trollope, an author who can hardly be said to have been an iconoclast of mores, has one of his characters ask herself this question, may we not assume that public sentiment was not too far away from sympathizing with this character and thinking that a) women should not marry against their will, and b) women should not completely marry against their inclinations for the sake of material security?

Peter wrote: "Tristram wrote: "Like Peter, I am reading the Penguin edition and really profit from the copious background information given in the annotations. What surprised me was that while in Bleak House the..."

Very interesting ideas, Peter! I think that you analyzed the role of the Rouncewell family very conclusively: In a way the different members of the family symbolize different aspects of English society. The mother stands for loyalty to traditions and also to the traditional stratification of society. She is content with serving a noble family. The same goes for George, who also represents the military and the national code of honour. The industrial brother represents the new bourgeoisie, a type of self-confident, though not iconoclastic, industrious and inventive selfmademen, who are the backbone of English wealth and power in the 19th century. It seems as though Dickens wanted to make a point that all these three aspects were compatible with each other.

When writing Hard Times, he must have been less optimistic, or he just had gained a keener eye for the social costs of progress.

Everyman wrote: "But if Gradgrind orders Louisa to marry him, what option does she have? ..."

About the only option she would have is to runaway to someone else, which is probably no option at all. I absolutely agree she's caught between bad and worse, if her father insists.

Tristram wrote: "As far as I can remember, Louisa is 15 or 16 years old at the beginning of the novel - her is mentioned in the context of her first appearance in the novel -, which may justify the assumption that ..."

The concept of marriage during the Victorian times was different from earlier centuries. During The Victorian times the notion of companionate marriage found its firm footings as did the Doctrine of Separate Spheres. There were many changes to both marriage and divorce laws. While economic reasons to marry have always been, to varying degrees, present in society, there was a clear shift to a couple getting married solely because they loved each other. The Valentine card, for example, was a Victorian creation.

The possibility of a Bounderby-Louisa Gradgrind marriage in the near future, or an "understanding" that such a marriage would occur in the more distant future may well be something that we will encounter again. When/if it does, we will also have more information upon which to add to our discuss of Victorian marriage theory and practice. I anticipate some lively discussion.

At the opening of Chapter 4, I noticed Dickens addressed the reader -- something I don't recall him doing before. Another change for the short format?

"Bully of humility" was a great description of Bounderby, I thought, like the oxymorons running through Bleak House (as well as a twist on Uriah Heep's 'umble beginnings). I'm becoming more convinced that a writer or actor of Monty Python must have been a Dickens fan. I recently watched a recording of one of their live shows, where the actors redid the sketch, "When I was young, we were so poor, we lived� in a puddle in the road", etc., gradually escalating downwards, out-poor-ing one another. One of them claimed to have lived in a box, not far off from Bounderby's eggbox.

Louisa leaves such a vivid impression at the close of the Chapter -- an inner rebellious streak and pride, that prevents her from completely denying her feelings, as she is taught to do. I imagine her like a young Lady Deadlock, already prone to weariness of the world (in this case, a factual one).

Vanessa wrote: "At the opening of Chapter 4, I noticed Dickens addressed the reader -- something I don't recall him doing before. Another change for the short format?

"Bully of humility" was a great description o..."

"like a young Lady Dedlock" I like that comparison very much. We shall see. This time we will be able to watch the development of Louisa first-hand.

Peter wrote: "Tristram wrote: "As far as I can remember, Louisa is 15 or 16 years old at the beginning of the novel - her is mentioned in the context of her first appearance in the novel -, which may justify the..."

Peter, that is very good to know. In Germany, the shift from economic or political marriages to love marriages also came in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, and it is an idea that evolved in the German µþü°ù²µ±ð°ù³Ù³Ü³¾, i.e. the bourgeoisie that defined itself via Besitz and Bildung (property and education/culture). The µþü°ù²µ±ð°ù³Ù³Ü³¾ reacted to rationalism and Enlightenment by inventing Empfindsamkeit (sentiment) and Romanticism and they saw themselves as the representatives of a culture of virtues of the heart, family values but also qualities like industry, thrift, studiousness, diligence and knowledge. Whereas they regarded the nobility as superficial, heartless and cold, they cultivated ideals of marriage for love and a focus of inwardness, and so many contemporary Germans would definitely have liked the values that Dickens propagated in his Christmas books. They would also have been inclined to sympathize with Louisa Gradgrind, I think.

Vanessa wrote: "At the opening of Chapter 4, I noticed Dickens addressed the reader -- something I don't recall him doing before. Another change for the short format?"

I rather like the style of addressing the reader, as Trollope often does, but I cannot think of Dickens doing it very often. Maybe we can say that the opening of The Cricket is also written in this vein?

Tristram wrote: "Peter wrote: "Tristram wrote: "As far as I can remember, Louisa is 15 or 16 years old at the beginning of the novel - her is mentioned in the context of her first appearance in the novel -, which m..."

It sounds like the societies and cultures of both Germany and England were moving at about the same relative speed.

As you know, Victoria's Albert was German. To a great degree he was responsible for guiding and creating the cult of domesticity, family and a more evangelical view of the world. While we generally acknowledge that Albert brought the Christmas tree tradition to England, his contributions were far greater and much more far-reaching than that one act.

While only speculation, I have often wondered how the world would be different today if he had enjoyed a much longer life with his wife Victoria.

First, when reading about Bounderby's birth and childhood in the ditch, I took it metaphorically rather than literally. My assumption was, and is, that he's prone to hyperbole.

There was definitely creepiness in Bounderby's interest in Louisa. Ick. While these May/December pairings weren't unusual in Victorian times, the individuals' characters surely change the way we accept the idea. For instance, in Sense and Sensibility, few but the romantic Marianne, herself, were bothered by the age difference between her and Colonel Brandon. Most saw that their temperaments and personalities made them a good match, despite their ages. And while Esther and Jarndyce didn't end up together in Bleak House, I don't think any of us were as repelled by that idea as we are here. Jarndyce, at least, had the good sense to wait until Esther was an adult before making any advances, and those he made were so chaste that it was almost unbelievable. Bounderby, regardless of his age, is not someone I'd want my daughters to be alone with. Again, ick.

I, too, don't remember much from my first reading of HT several decades ago. But this discussion of Louisa has been an epiphany for me. I realized that one of the reasons - probably the main reason - I've been enjoying HT so far is the fact that Louisa isn't Dickens' usual fawning, diminutive female with an Electra complex. Thank God! I hope that she continues to show strength and an independent streak, even within the confines of her upbringing and societal expectations.

Mary Lou wrote: "First, when reading about Bounderby's birth and childhood in the ditch, I took it metaphorically rather than literally. My assumption was, and is, that he's prone to hyperbole.

There was definite..."

Bounderby's backstory is rather amazing, isn't it? Somehow I feel there is much more to be heard.

I agree with your comments about Louisa. So far she seems to have a personality and a mind of her own. To have a mind of her own in such a repressive environment speaks to the early depth of her character.

Mary Lou wrote: For instance, in Sense and Sensibility, few but the romantic Marianne, herself, were bothered by the age difference between her and Colonel Brandon. Most saw that their temperaments and personalities made them a good match, despite their ages. And while Esther and Jarndyce didn't end up together in Bleak House,...."

Excellent point. You're perfectly right, neither of those matches, gives us the same "yuck" factor as Bounderby's interest in Louisa, though it seems that Jarndyce was interested in Esther when when she was no older than Louisa is now. But of course he never demanded a kiss.

It's Bounderby himself and his behavior, rather than the age difference, that makes us recoil.

Interesting speculation on Bounderby's backstory, Mary Lou. Will we hear more about him and his story down the road?

I can't wait to find out!

About Bounderby and Louisa and Jarndyce and Esther: Bounderby clearly uses his influence over Gradgrind to appear in the light of a benefactor to Louisa, or to try to do so, and this is what is so creepy and despicable. However, Esther was in no easy position once that Jarndyce had made his proposal to her. After all, she nearly owed everything she had and was to him because he took care of her when Mrs. Barbary had died. She clearly felt herself under a deep obligatoin to Mr. Jarndyce and she would have accepted him as a husband, even though her heart was beating for somebody else, because of her sense of gratefulness. Had Jarndyce been a bit more selfish or a bit less sensitive, he would have profited from his role as a benefactor.

Kim - your Bounderby ditch and egg box analysis had me giggling! I thought Bounderby's story sounded like the classic "when I was your age I walked to school in 6 feet of snow 20 miles uphill both ways! So yeah, I also questioned the reality of his continual boasting.

I was also icked out by Bounderby's attentions to Louisa, but Mary Lou brings up a good point about his character being a factor in how we might view the potential matches, and Esther and Jarndyce were a great example. With Louisa's clear dislike of Bounderby's attentions to her, it will be interesting to see how much Louisa is willing to bend in order to keep peace and please her father, and at what point will she put her foot down before she breaks, if she does at all. As was already mentioned, she does not have many choices in her position.

Oh, and so far my favorite name in HT is the dog, Merrylegs. I can't help but picture a happy, smiling, bounding dog eager for pets and attention.

Linda wrote: " I thought Bounderby's story sounded like the classic "when I was your age I walked to school in 6 feet of snow 20 miles uphill both ways! "

I actually did, though it was only four miles, not 20. And the snow where we lived only got to about 3 feet deep. But otherwise, you've described my winter childhood perfectly.

I do wonder what the nine oils were, and what that's referring to. I'm sure it must be a take off on something going on then. Maybe snake oil? But I thought that was an American thing.

But well, golly gee, Wikipedia says that the nine oils were an actual preparation. So it's sort of like saying today that some body was getting Ben Gay for their soreness.



BTW, on that page I noticed a link to "Discovering Dickens," "a glossary of Dickensian terms."


Although the pictures don't come up for me. I suspect it's an older site that uses a graphics format that modern browsers considr too dangerous to show.

Linda wrote: "Oh, and so far my favorite name in HT is the dog, Merrylegs. I can't help but picture a happy, smiling, bounding dog eager for pets and attention."

Oh, absolutely. Probably a small spaniel; at least if I were illustrating the book that's the dog I would use.

Everyman wrote: "Probably a small spaniel; at least if I were illustrating the book that's the dog I would use.
"

I agree with so many of your comments, but you're definitely wrong about this one. Merrylegs is, without a doubt, a little terrier. :-)

Mary Lou wrote: "I agree with so many of your comments, but you're definitely wrong about this one. Merrylegs is, without a doubt, a little terrier. :-) .."

I bow to your superior knowledge of dogs.

I'm going with spaniel, cocker, this one:

It will now be my obsession to read HT with the goal of determining Merrylegs' breed! I did a Google image search and came up with mostly ponies. Trailers for two movies based on the novel found on youtube didn't show Merrylegs. I've always pictured a cross between a Jack Russell and a wire fox terrier.

Everyman wrote: "I actually did, though it was only four miles, not 20. And the snow where we lived only got to about 3 feet deep. But otherwise, you've described my winter childhood perfectly. "

And uphill both ways?! ;)

Everyman wrote: "But well, golly gee, Wikipedia says that the nine oils were an actual preparation. So it's sort of like saying today that some body was getting Ben Gay for their soreness ."

Interesting. Did you notice that one of the oils is "oil of bricks"? As in actual bricks....

I'm picturing Merrylegs as a cocker spaniel too, but now I'm on the lookout for clues as to his breed too.

I'm glad the dog question has come up and many of you are hot on the trail. Clearly the dog is not a bloodhound who seem to have neither legs, merry or otherwise, or a happy expression. :-))

Linda wrote: "And uphill both ways?! ;) "

Most definitely. And it's true, since it was a somewhat hilly area, there were significant uphill stretches both ways. And since going uphill is slower and harder than going downhill, you actually spend more time and effort going uphill, you notice it more, so it seems fair to say that the uphill is the major aspect of each trip.

Tristram wrote: "Vanessa wrote: "At the opening of Chapter 4, I noticed Dickens addressed the reader -- something I don't recall him doing before. Another change for the short format?"

I rather like the style of a..."

For me, it pulls me out of the story, and I'd rather be immersed in it. I felt the same with Bronte. I'll have to take a look at The Cricket next Christmas...

Here are the top circus dogs, I'm still sticking with a cocker spaniel.

The Bichon Frise has been around since before the 14th century, when they were frequently found on ships, serving the dual purpose of keeping sailors company on long journeys and being used for bartering once the destination was reached. In the late 1800s, the smart little dogs were known as circus pooches or organ grinder dogs for their ability to perform tricks.



The Havanese has a long reputation of being a circus dog, probably because it learns quickly and enjoys doing things for people.


American Eskimo Dog
This bright breed owes its popularity and lineage to the circus dogs who toured America a century ago.

What a perfect way to begin my day. Between sharing our old telephone stories and numbers, high school locker combinations, car licence plates numbers and these pictures I think we have definite claim to being the most eclectic Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ group in existence. Love it!

Oh, I didn't even think to look into which breeds were typical circus dogs of the time. Good thinking, Kim! Although I'm with you, I still have a spaniel stuck in my head at the moment.

Linda wrote: "I'm picturing Merrylegs as a cocker spaniel too, but now I'm on the lookout for clues as to his breed too."

Try The Dog in the Dickensian Imagination?? Available via Google Books (but with plot spoilers in the relevant paragraph, so beware).

(I'm in the terrier camp.)

Lagullande wrote: "Linda wrote: "I'm picturing Merrylegs as a cocker spaniel too, but now I'm on the lookout for clues as to his breed too."

Try The Dog in the Dickensian Imagination?? Available via ..."

Thank you for mentioning this book.

I'm on the hunt for Dickens and dogs. :-)