(This post discusses instalment three of Hard Times, which can be read here. If you are reading from a book, you need to read chapter 6.)
One chapter? ONE chapter?!? Blimey. Given the furore over the brevity of the opening chapter in week 1, I trust we’re all happy now. I’m a sucker for structural issues, and the way the instalments have dwindled from 3 chapters, to 2, to 1, fascinates me – I’d be very interested to hear how this week struck you as different. Did your prefer it? Did it feel longer? More focused? We discussed whether the short chapter 1 was a ploy to get people in to the story; in which case this long chapter shows a certain confidence on Dickens’ part that his readers are now invested. Equally, it gives more prominence to the moment – we’ve been awaiting this confrontation since week 1 teased us with Gradgrind at the edge of the circus, and now that the characters of Gradgrind and Bounderby have been fully introduced to us it is great to see Dickens give full rein to their misadventures at the Pegasus’s Arms.
There was lots I liked this week – the immediate promise of discomfort for our two fact-fiends when Dickens describes their location: ‘The Pegasus’s Legs might have been more to the purpose…As it had grown too dusky without, to see the sign, and as it had not grown light enough within to see the picture, Mr Gradgrind and Mr Bounderby received no offence from these idealities.’ The awkward exchange between Sissy and Bounderby last week is given the extended cut here, with the glorious difference that whereas up to now Bounderby has been exercising his ‘wit’ on small children and Gradgrind’s browbeaten wife, now he faces resistance from the people of Sleary’s circus. I suspect I wasn’t the only one this week who was cheering on Mr Childers and Cupid as they stood up to Bounderby:
‘You see, my friend,’ Mr Bounderby put in, ‘we are the kind of people who know the value of time, and you are the kind of people who don’t know the value of time.’
‘I have not,’ retorted Mr Childers, after surveying him from head to foot, ‘the honour of knowing you, – but if you mean that you can make more money of your time than I can of mine, I should judge from your appearance, that you are about right.’
Ouch – I also liked it when Childers told Bounderby to ‘keep mouth’ in his own building, ‘because this isn’t a strong building , and too much of you might bring it down!’ And we need that moment of small victory, because the larger story here is one of tragedy when Sissy realises her father has left her (taking Merrylegs the dog with him and denying the readers the chance to see this canine wonder, much to my disappointment). Bounderby’s dismissive remarks find no support here, with Sleary warning him that he might be ‘pith’ him ‘out o’winder’, and Bounderby, remarkably, taking note.
A few of us mentioned last week that Gradgrind seemed to be softening, and that has borne fruit this week as he agrees to take Sissy in, despite Bounderby’s predictable objections, to be ‘an example to Louisa’. Hmm. A few of you considered the portrayal of these two girls back in week 1; now we seem to be promised more opportunity for contrast in the coming weeks. Sissy and Gradgrind are the only characters so far to have been in every instalment, so their coming together here has a certain sense of inevitability about it. As for what the result of this will be, well you tell me what you think might happen.
There’s lots more I’d like to know – What did you make of all those circus people? Were you also disappointed at the lack of Merrylegs? How much did you want to see Bounderby pitched out the window? And how did you find it reading one looong chapter? But before I hand over to you, there’s one part that really hit me this week. I’ve mentioned before how reading books at particular times can give emphasis to different moments. Right now while we’re in the middle of a lockdown, Sleary’s principle, ridiculously lisped as it was, struck me as particularly true and poignant: ‘People mutht be amuthed, Thquire, thomehow…they can’t be alwayth a working; nor yet they can’t be alwayth a learning.’ I hope this readalong continues to keep you all amuthed in these difficult circumstances.
Hard Times Readalong 
One of the first things that struck me is how we were now entering a little bastion of whimsy. Not only was the pub dedicated to Pegasus, but to his arms. I was looking forward to seeing Gradgrind and Bounderby in a setting they didn’t have full control over.
Largely, I was pleased. The child, Kidderminster (and I love that name for a person) was agreeably snarky and I enjoyed his comment that if Mr Bounderby had raised himself to such an extent, it was all well and good to lower himself too. I also liked how Mr B couldn’t read the room and carried on much as he has been but Gradgrind did.
As expected, the circus people are all lovely, a deep warm family of people spurned by the rest of the world – travelling players are always portrayed as either monstrous or The Muppets. I did wince when Mr Sleary entered with his lisp though, too much of that could get old wery quick – as Sam Weller might say.
One thing I did wonder, has Dickens got a stash of these he’s dishing out every week or is each instalment freshly minted?
LikeLiked by 2 people
There is a sense of pay-off here: after having seen Gradgrind, and then Bounderby, holding court over others with little to no resistance for the past two weeks, it’s a delight to see them on the back foot. There is a touch of the Muppets to the circus folk; Dickens last major study of the entertainment industry was Mr Crummles acting troupe on Nicholas Nickleby, who were prone to moments of bickering and jealousy. These guys seem much purer in heart (although I liked the small detail of Sleary eyeing up the Nine Oils).
By this stage of his career Dickens preferred to plan ahead – his larger novels were published in monthly instalments and Dickens tended to write each instalment three months ahead of publication. However, this weekly serial was a last-minute idea in reaction to dwindling sales, so I suspect he may have been cutting it a bit closer to the wire.
LikeLiked by 2 people
The switch in intention has always struck me in this chapter. Gradgrind and Bounderby are on their way to remove Sissy from the school, yet they show no signs of being dubious about the sudden disappearance of Mr. Jupe. Would they not have been somewhat suspicious of the timing of his departure – particularly considering his initial placing Sissy in a school was rather uncustomary? Are there any contemporary examples of travelling communities acting in such a way to procure a better situation for their offspring? Also, why does Gradgrind take the responsibility for the child upon himself in this circumstance? Is it due to his position in society and desire to act in accordance with Victorian notions of charity and duty? Or can he simply not resist the opportunity to provide Louisa with a contrasting counterpart? I have always felt that Gradgrind’s sudden switch here was rather unexplained. Huge thanks for providing a welcome distraction- Sleary was certainly keeping me ‘amuthed’ this week!
LikeLike
Hi Chloe! Sorry for the unintentional delay – your comment was sent to spam (goodness knows why). You’re right- it’s a quick turnaround of intentions. I think it goes back to the idea of influence – so long as Sissy is under the influence of her father and the circus, Gradgrind sees her as a threat. But – with the father gone, she becomes just a child, and Gradgrind sees the opportunity to reprogramme her. So far we have seen Gradgrind lording it over women and children, but being less certain in front of adults, especially men. Like many bullies, he’s a coward underneath it all when faced with someone the same size as him. So it’s possible to see his taking in of Sissy as anything but a heroic and noble act!
As for examples of travelling communities doing this, I confess to not being sure – contemporary fears were often the reverse. There’s lots of concern in literature and culture of changelings, where gypsies would take children from towns, and leave their own behind in their stead.
LikeLike
Can we please discuss Mr E W B Childers’s HAIR? I believe I stopped reading for a solid minute to try and picture this coiffure of immense proportions: “…dark hair brushed into a roll all round his head, and parted up the centre.” What exactly is this?? I couldn’t help but think it must be something like Gary Oldman’s hair design in “Dracula.”
LikeLiked by 2 people
Hi Katie – a valid question! I have to confess, this is one of the moments when I wondered if Dickens (whispers quietly) was giving a bit too much description. Sometime he is so detailed in explaining the look of something that it becomes a distraction as much an aid to the reading experience. Like you, I was trying to wrap my head around it, and found that I simultaneously wondering if this character was significant enough to even need to take it all in. Is it a combover that Dickens is hinting at?
LikeLike
If we all think positively, Childers could make a come back. I honestly can’t remember if he does so it’s like reading it afresh! However, you’re totally right; why would Dickens spend so much time here with his crazy hair and cowboy of the prairie walk if Childers was never to return? I guess, A) he will or B) it’s supposed set off how bland Gradgrind and Bounderby are by comparison. ?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, which ties in to what I was just saying about intentional bafflement and wonder in this scene. There’s something to be said for curves too – Gradgrind is a square figure, Bounderby’s so hard he scared his own hair away, whereas the circus people have round hair and soft features (or flabby, in Sleary’s case).
LikeLiked by 1 person
Much like Pete, I read with some wistfulness the proclamation that the ‘people mutht be amuthed’, which has a particular poignancy as we enter week interminable of lockdown. There was much to glean from this instalment. It had a nice rhythm to it, and I enjoyed the more lengthy chapter – almost as if the reader is settling in with the circus characters to watch the exchange.
A few things struck me. The first is the description of the building, which Pete also picked up on. I find that Dickens often uses the state of a building as an indicator of what is going on inside, almost as the building itself provides a moral assessment of the characters who inhabit it. He did it to great effect in Bleak House and David Copperfield, amongst others. So what do we take from the description he uses here? It is not a strong building, we are told. The room is mean and shabbily furnished, the hair trunk is battered and mangy. It suggests neglect, carelessness perhaps? This inkling is confirmed when we discover that Sissy has been abandoned by her father.
This, in turn leads to yet another opportunity for Bounderby to berate his own absent/neglectful mother and grandmother, even though it is Sissy’s father that has abandoned her. Why does Bounderby feel the need to focus on maternal negligence, rather than on the complete absence of a father figure.
I really love how the chapter ends with the three figures disappearing into the darkness of the steet. It seems to be foreshadowing Sissy choosing a worrying path, leaving us all to wonder whether she has made the right choice in choosing facts and education, over circus and family.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Hi Deborah, interesting comments! I agree the building serves as a wider commentary, but I saw its ricketiness as a cry for help – the observation that such places cannot stand the hot air of Bounderby argues that the grand ideas that the wealthy have from the comfort of their own homes don’t apply so well in the homes of the poor.
I completely agree that Bounderby is fixating on maternal neglect – is this linked to his idea of manliness, that he spurns all softness just as those that would have been presumed to be the gentler sex spurned him? His narrative of ‘blame the mother” permits men to be hard and unfeeling, like himself.
I hadn’t thought about the closing image but you’re right, it’s striking.
It also reminds me that everything we’ve read this past few weeks had taken place in just one day.
LikeLike
Not only is it one chapter, it is the longest (barely) installment so far! Wk 1=9 cols. Wk 2=10 1/4. Wk 3=10 1/2 (numbers from Lohri). While Katie was caught up by Childers’s hair, I met the wall of circus slang with delighted bewilderment. Turns out, it is quite deliberate! Slater (p. 372) notes that Dickens had sent a letter to Mark Lemon asking for him to submit what amounts to urbandictionary style entries. (Feb 20, 1854): “Will you note down and send me any slang terms among the tumblers and circus-people, that you can call to mind? I have noted down some-I want them in my new story-but it is very probable that you will recall several which I have not got” (qtd. https://www.charlesdickenspage.com/charles-dickens-hard-times.html). That this letter is from the end of February hints at the rush job D is in!
Mr. Sleary’s “People must be amuthed” [missed an s!] reminded me of the narrator in ch. 5 saying (at greater length) “exactly in the ratio as they worked long and monotonously, the craving grew within them for some physical relief…). We might consider the release of HW on Saturdays to be a similar sort of release after a long week’s work.
This chapter also gives us our second “child” name. I wonder to what degree we are to consider M’Choakumchild and Mr. E. W. B. Childers as potential doppelgangers? It made me think of the degree that M’Choak is a cookie-cutter product of his schooling vs Child being free-wheeling professional? Maybe with M’Choak, he is not the one who chokes children but the one whose inner child was choked?
This chapter gives us the second reference to the North American “frontier” re-enactments that were so popular in entertainment. In ch. 5 we had the racist comparison of Coketown to “the painted face of a savage.” And here we have Childers as “the Wild Huntsman of the North American Prairies.” I have to think longer about what might be going on with this; maybe others have some ideas for me!
A great chapter for found family solidarity! I’m looking forward to the dynamics of Sissy and Louisa. D does amazing things with these kinds of pairings. I’m thinking of Pet Meagles and Tattycoram in LD.
LikeLiked by 4 people
Hi Christian, thanks for the fantastic context! So this answers in turn Stephen’s earlier question – Dickens is doing preparatory work in February for a book starting in April – as an academic I fully sympathise!
Would we go so far to consider “Kidderminster as a third child name? He strikes me as a curious child character in himself – “a diminutive boy with an old face” – to compare with the sickly Bitzer, shy Sissy and obstinate Louisa (whose brother Tom is very much a “plus one” in the narrative so far!).
Frontier allusions are curious. While references to the orient are almost wholly bound in ideas of mysticism, wonder and savagery, the frontier carries with it a sense of conquest, and adventure. Both are romantic in nature, and strange intrusions on the Coketown way of life.
LikeLike
Hey Christian! Yep, I saw that too about the amount of research Dickens was doing to find slang terms (in Nonesuch Ed of letters) but I also have recently read that circus historian Thomas Frost had never even heard of half of these slang terms. Makes me wonder if the man of much description who would sometimes make up uses to words (humbug) perhaps made up some of these himself!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Ha! Busted, Charles! It’s possible that Dickens (or Lemon) are quoting a particularly niche area of slang, maybe a specific circus; or Lemon is making it up to Dickens to a) answer quickly, b) appear knowledgeable to his friend c) for giggles; or finally that Dickens is elaborating on/making up terms to deliberately baffle his readers. If the latter, that would suggest his priority is in presenting a wondrous and unknown world at odds with the facts and realities of Coketown (although you could argue the jargon in chapter 3 of metallurgical cabinets etc is equally as baffling!).
LikeLike
With that said…I’m going to dig around a bit into Frost’s book later and see what circus slang I can turn up. I honestly thought ‘circus’ was coined by Barnum (?). I think Dickens is quite careful to say they are performers or horse riders or clowns etc. which adds a touch of realism to the story (if I’m right).
LikeLiked by 1 person
Let us know what you find out!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hey Katie and Pete. I was also reading Schlicke’s good chapter on HT in “Dickens and Popular Entertainment.” He makes much of Frost’s impressions (p.168-169) and argues against them. Most of the (mammoth) chapter is available on GoogleBooks (in the US : https://books.google.com/books?id=X76JAgAAQBAJ&pg=PA169&lpg=PA169&dq#v=onepage&q&f=false_) I love the idea that Dickens got a list and then just sort of shrugged and said “well, I can make up words that sound like this” and just rolled with it.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks for the link – Schlicke’s book is well worth a look folks!
LikeLike
Like Christian I also appreciated the found family vibe, coming after the dysfunctional family we’ve glimpsed thus far. And there were some enjoyable details in the description of their appearance and lives – the bandy-legged cowboy walks of Childers and Kidderminster, and the fact that the little children play the fairy parts when required, with their various parents all balanced on top of one another. It’s cute and farcical and there’s a real feeling of enjoyment in this part of Dickens’s writing. As a reader new to this serial (which I’m sadly not) I’d definitely be hoping for more of Sleary and the troupe (and obviously hoping that Merrylegs will make an appearance in person.)
I would also be raring for the next part, to meet up, hopefully, with Louisa and Tom again.
And I agree with Deborah about the effective use of the darkness at the end. Also, the ‘fixed eye of Philosophy’ reminded me of The Great Gatsby.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re absolutely right, there is a sense of hitting a plateau here – we’ve endured the siege of Gradgrind and Bounderby’s philosophy, and an increasingly grim narrative of trampled hopes and fancy, so this young girl going off with her gruff new master feels like we’re reaching the end of a scene, or act even, ready to see where this new dynamic takes us with a little more hope than when we started. And the circus people are a definite breath of fresh air in this grim town!
LikeLike
It’s possibly a measure of how bizarre things are right now, but I found myself being continually surprised in this chapter by the bizarre nature of each and every thing. Once I’d got to grips with the various personages (and these seem like large personalities to inhabit the one room!), Dickens then introduces the ‘equestrian walk’, which peppered it up into giggle territory. Then Sissy falls into the arms of ‘the most accomplished tight-rope lady (herself in the family way)’ which was a) ridiculously funny, b) reminded me of the ace Leighton and Surridge project ‘Great Expectations’ about c19th pregnancy that they spoke about at the 2019 RSVP conference. Before Sissy can extricate herself from the room, she’s delayed by the fact that the men have to extricate themselves from their own bodies in order to hug her! ‘she had to take her farewell of the male part of the company yet, for every one of them had to unfold his arms’…?!
In essence, this chapter suited the dynamic of today – between hilarity and hysteria!
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s a fantastic chapter isn’t it? The crowded room seems to echo the crowded chapter – instead of the fragmented instalments we’ve had in the last two weeks, everything and everyone is crammed into one space. We go from the defiant in Childers and Kidderminster, through to the ridiculous as you note above, and end with the strangely affecting Sleary. I like how Dickens isn’t afraid to mock the circus people even as he praises them, and vice versa. It could have easily been a very sentimental episode as all these good-hearted salt of the earth types say farewell to little Sissy, but Dickens maintains enough humour to show how surreal it all is, whilst equally not going so far as to savagely satirise these people either. Ultimately, the sheer unpredictability of the scene is its charm – a welcome antithesis to the carefully controlled Gradgrind and that classroom scene, where even in their chaotic tumbling the circus troupe show themselves to be more human.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I found it interesting that Gradgrind changes his stance on Sissy attending the school when he finds out her father had left her. While it’s admirable that he will care for her (or says he will; we don’t know) he wasn’t willing to help her when she remained in the impoverished world that he sees as threatening to his own children.
Gradgrind wants control and makes a cult-like move by insisting Sissy cut off all contact with her friends as a condition of his help. There’s no consideration of meeting Sissy’s needs as an individual, no taking into consideration the environment in which she has been raised. The focus is on her weaknesses, not on her strengths. Does Gradgrind even see that Sissy has strengths? I’m sure the self-made Bounderby doesn’t.
Despite his insistence on facts and only facts, Gradgrind seems open to reevaluating his decision. Yet, that doesn’t mean it’s entirely out of empathy. He implores Bounderby to think of how helping Sissy will affect Louisa. While his is not as harsh an opinion as Bounderby’s, who thinks she should be left with the circus, what about the effect on Sissy? Dickens shows that the poor are seen as worthy only as labor for the rich. My hope is that Sissy will have a positive effect on Gradgrind, as well.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Hi Pamela, you’re right of course. For all talk of Gradgrind softening, his motives are dubious. The cult allusion is warranted, and his insistence on cutting all ties with circus is somewhat sinister. At the same time, he believes he is offering her a better life – let’s see if he’s right…
LikeLike
Question is, will Sissy once she’s been all Facts’d up, look down on her former life and friends. Has been known before. I think there is more to this girl than meets the eye and can’t wait to find out more about her. It didn’t take her long to make her mind up knowing she had to thtick to the termth. There’ll be no going back. Or will there? As regards THE hair, we’ll all be donning the ‘roll round the head’ look by the end of lockdown.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Good point Joy – we’ve talked so much about Gradgrind, but maybe our focus should be on Sissy and what effect this will have on her. She’s doing what her father wanted for her, supposedly, but has she chosen wisely?
Oh, and if anyone needs a haircut during lockdown, Bounderby’s a dab hand at scaring the hair off your head!
LikeLike
Circus Slang Report: for those who are interested. Firstly, Thomas Frost spend a lot of time describing how circus men dress and takes up for them having been described by his contemporaries as “peculiar!” He said that you can always determine a circus man just as you could find out a bohemian or “gypsy” (of the 19th century term) namely: sealskin coat, unbuttoned, showing off velvet vests (usually red) with gold chains, diamond rings and peacock feathers in their hats. Basically, they dressed like flashy disco studs! I’m thinking of adopting this style myself! Frost talks a lot about Dickens and refers to him as the “inimitable,” saying even though “Hard Times” is tragically false in its representation of circus men, he still loved it. Here is a list of real circus slang (nothing in Childers’s speech was deemed to be factual except his use of Jupe having “missing his tip,” which is when an equestrian fails to clear a hurdle.
The circus is called the “show,” not a booth.
The joke of a clown is a “wheeze”: “cracking a wheeze” equates to telling a joke
“A Slang”: gymnast performance
“Bono”: good
“Rot” (this one stuck!) is of course a term of contempt
“Toe Rags”: expression of contempt used by the lower grade of circus men (I’m adopting this one)
“Go a-pitching”: scouting out a spot for the show
“Pitch”: the spot where the show takes place
“Queer the pitch”: if someone (like a policeman) interferes with the show or there is an accident and it’s spoiled it
“Doing a nob”: take a hat to collect money from on-lookers
“Nobbing the glazes”: when one man stands on the shoulders of another to collect money
“the Nob”: the total collected
“to Fake”: fixed…not what we think of it as a word for thieves
“Letty”: lodging for circus men
“Doing a Bunk” “Doing a Johnny Scaparey”: what Sissy Jupe’s dad does: running from a debt or apprenticeship
“Cully”: the circus man’s equivalent of the mechanic’s mate or the solider’s comrade.
“Screw”: salary
“The Ghost Walks”: you got paid your salary
“Goosed” or “Gets the Goose”: when the performer is hissed and booed
Frost’s chief issue with “Hard Times” was the circus was “rot.” Sleary’s performers, if they had been true to real life, would have been some kind of UTTERLY AMAZING ACT, because never was there a show where everybody could do something in real life. However, Frost loves Dickens and uses Sleary’s lispy speech to end his book on the circus.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Excellent, thanks for this Katie. Now then class, homework: I expect everyones here to drop at least one of these slang terms into their everyday conversation today. Sounds like a bono plan to me!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hi Katie. That’s really interesting. I’ve often wondered where toe rag came from. Used not that infrequently in my Coketown.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Your ghost deserves to walk after this Slang. I hope that the Letty of this wordpress forum doesn’t do a Bunk with your Nob or that someone queers the pitch by giving the Goose.
LikeLiked by 4 people
I agree with some other comments that Dickens over-describes sometimes in this long segment, but Master Kidderminster’s description as becoming “of the Turf, turfy” when not on the job as frontier child or Cupid was hilarious. Dickens’s use of the circus as a contrast with Gradgrind’s world is fascinating to me – I almost wish the whole novel was set there. Chapter 2 of Kurt Koenigsberger’s “The Novel and the Menagerie: Totality, Englishness, and Empire” (2007) discusses Dickens’s depictions of empire and elephants. He reveals that Dickens may have “done his research” at Astley’s Circus and most certainly wrote to Mark Lemon of “Punch,” asking for circus slang! When Gradgrind has to speak circus slang to find out what has become of Jupe = perfection. Maybe Dickens absolutely enjoyed the circus world he experienced and that’s why he’s rambling on and on about it.
I keep noticing the emphasis on issues of paternal engagement, contact, and parenting methods, even when laughing at the “violent paternal manner in which wild huntsmen may be observed to fondle their offspring.” Besides the strict behavior of Gradgrind, Mr Jupe causes Sissy intense trauma by his complete absence, the “emptiness” he leaves behind. Does anyone else feel less than convinced by Gradgrind’s reason for taking Sissy in, as a cautionary example to Louisa? It seems so out of character with his usual ordered plan for his household. Could he be inventing “this reason” to conceal his remorse (in front of That Ass Bounderby) at almost kicking her out of the school and adopting her out of secret pity? I’m not really sure what to think about it.
LikeLike
Did anyone else have a problem reading Sleary’s dialogue? It slowed my reading to a crawl! I’m wondering if it might have been better if I read it aloud. For someone who “never wath muth of a Cackler” he sure did talk a lot in this chapter!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re not alone John! There’s been much written about how Dickens prompts us to vocalise his dialogue – I’ve just recently been reading Hugo Bowles’ book “Dickens and the Stenographic Mind” which covers this idea at length. The most famous instance of this use of difficult dialect/unusual spelling is Sam Weller in The Pickwick Papers, who became one of Dickens’s most popular characters, and who leaps off the page precisely because we are forced to make that jump from silent reading to “hearing” the character’s voice. It absolutely prompts you to sound it out, and shows how Dickens is directing us (or conducting, if you prefer).
Dialogue like this also acts as a deliberate challenge to the reader, a puzzle that’s just solvable, to give the reader a similar sense of pleasure to completing the daily crossword. The trick is to make it hard to decipher, but not so hard that the reader gives up!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Alright, I have worked just a bit more on the timeline in response to Adam’s opening post. I owe the following to Kaplan’s edition of HT for Norton.
Dickens’ first “mem” for HT is Friday, Jan. 20th, 1854. On the left, he details the “quantity” needed. “The quantity of the story to be published weekly, being about five pages of Household Words, will require about seven pages and a half of my writing.”
On the right, a list of character names and potential titles. I posted pictures of these over on twitter (https://twitter.com/BuffyAntiqua/status/1251224449388613632?s=20).
On Jan. 23rd, he wrote to Burdett-Coutts, “The first written page now stares at me from under this sheet of note paper.”
We already noted his letter to Mark Lemon (Feb 20, 1854) asking for circus slang.
March 7th to his publishers, Bradbury and Evans, “I now send those of the two first parts.” At this point he seems to have a good headstart, but after this, he seems to be rushing week to week.
April 18th, to Wills, “I am in a dreary state, planning and planning the story of Hard Times (out of materials for I don’t know how long a story), and consequently writing little.”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for this Christian – so it starts well and then gets a bit more hectic. I wonder if we’ll note the difference in future instalments?
LikeLike
Although he may not be an important role in this story, I’m struck by Mr Childers’ ability to control and shut Bounderby down. He may not have power in society, but in this particular building with people of circus, his philosophy and the way of talking shines and it’s fun to see that! I know it’s a bit odd, but I must confess my favourite character so far is Mr Childers…
One more thing I was impressed by Childers is when he says to Bounderby, “I am telling your friend what’s the fact”. I thought this an interesting suggestion to the reader, which means while Childers is telling a fact to Gradgrind, Bounderby is telling a fancy(that time he was talking about how his mother deserted him). Childers words suggest that Bounderby’s story is suspicious.
Here is the interesting reversal of the binary opposition(fact and fancy).
LikeLiked by 2 people
Hi Megumi, thanks for this. You’ve convinced me – Childers is a strong character. In a way, his lack of power in society makes his self-confidence all the more striking. His words ring true precisely because he isn’t high up, but rather a working man. It’s ironic given his profession, but he ends up speaking more for the regular man than Gradgrind and Bounderby in all their protestations of plain-speaking. I think this is why Childers’ use of “fact” hits home, identifying his grounding in reality in contrast to the fantasy logic-world of the two gentlemen.
LikeLike
Pete, the circus folk also reminded me of Mr Crummles acting troupe in Nicholas Nickleby. The only other Dicken’s character I remember who attended a circus was Barbox Brothers in Mugby Junction. He and Beatrice’s child Polly (one of my favorite characters in my all-time favorite Dicken’s tale) were going there to see “ponies, and … Ladies and gentlemen in spangled dresses, and elephants and lions and tigers.” Apparently the ponies were speckled all over, jumped through hoops ate pie in pinafores, and fired off guns!
Sorry, no Merrylegs the dog act!
If anyone is interested in reading the entire Mugby Junction set of stories, here is the whole “Extra Christmas Number” of All the Year Round for 1866:
http://www.gutenberg.org/files/27924/27924-h/27924-h.htm
Great railroad stories that you miss in Dicken’s collected editions which only have the four chapters by Dickens.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for the link John – it’s interesting to think how Dickens returns to themes and locations, and how his treatment of them changes, The circus remains a place of wonder and fantasy – it’s interesting also to see Dickens’ early article ‘Astley’s’ which talks about that theatre and its famous horse-shows with an equal mix of wonder and bewilderment. The circus is often seen as a place that border on parody in its excesses, but which nonetheless envelops the audience.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Pete: Christopher Lord here. So glad to find this early enough that I can join in (so good to see Christian here, too, since I’ll miss him at Dickens Universe). In addition to being fascinated by Sissy’s “nine oils,” I am, as always, drawn to Dickens’s two major ways of showing action–cinematic (usually exterior scenes like Coketown last week), and theatrically (in a proscenium sense) this week in the Jupe apartment. The room is festooned with the tackle and trim of Signor Jupe’s profession (but not as full as it would have been in a monthly number), and then full to bursting with people. One so wishes that Phiz could have illustrated the scene just as Sleary arrives. And the declamations of Childers, Kidderminster, Sleary, and the melodrama of Sissy herself (she’s a Lucie Manette in training) are straight out of Dickens’s rich theatrical presentation style, even in the cramped quarters of weekly publication. No author stages a scene better than Dickens. He so dazzles with specificity that we gloss right over Gradgrind’s bizarre offer to take Sissy in to show Louisa–what? What goes wrong if you follow the circus? Never mind. The plot grinds into its next gear. And, although the “key note” is ostensibly contained in a previous chapter, one can’t help but believe that Sleary’s motto, “People must be amuthed,” is really the Dickensian key note, the counterpoint to everything Gradgrind and Coketown stand for.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Hi Christopher! Very glad you could join us. You’re right, this instalment feels very theatrical compared to the cinematic overview of the preceding chapter. The lack of illustrations is a necessary concession of weekly publication in Household Words rather than monthly publication in its own issue, and the story does lose smething as a consequence. Worse still, when it is finally illustrated in a later edition, Dickens does not get Phiz involved. There’s a perceived logic that Phiz’s energetic illustrations sat very well with Dickens’ early comic novels, but that as Dickens matured and tastes changed, he sought artists producing more realistic illustrations. I’ve always wondered if we’re interpreting that the wrong way round: what if it’s
the absence of Phiz for either more realistic illustrations, or no illustrations, which prompts us to read Dickens differently?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hi Pete, still here sorry a little late. Not much to add as already been noted. Wasn’t keen on the lisp. I always find that irritating to read not sure why. A little Monty Pythons flying circus. Gradgrind does seem kinder than Mr B. Looking forward to next chapters. Kate
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hi Kate, yes the tide is turning on the lithp (it ith fun to read out loud though, thorry).
LikeLike