Wherein we revisit our first week’s reading of Barnaby Rudge (Week 36 of the Dickens Chronological Reading Club); with a summary and discussion wrap-up; and a look-ahead to Week Two.
Edited/compiled by Rach
Friends, where has Barnaby Rudge been all this time? This unlikely, underappreciated Dickens novel–one of his two “historical novels” along with A Tale of Two Cities–appears to be taking our group by storm, and many of us are finding an unexpected new favorite.
What do you think?
There is so much to wrap up this week, including a final “postscript” on some truly insightful and poignant reflections from our group on The Old Curiosity Shop after its final wrap-up. To make for easier navigation, here are some quick links:
- General Mems
- Barnaby Rudge, Week One (Chapters 1-19): A Summary
- Discussion Wrap-Up
- A Look-Ahead to Week Two of Barnaby Rudge
- Postscript: Final Thoughts on The Old Curiosity Shop
General Mems
If you’re counting, today is day 252 (and week 37) in our #DickensClub! It will be Week Two of Barnaby Rudge, our seventh read of the group. Please feel free to comment below this post for the second week’s chapters, or use the hashtag #DickensClub if you’re commenting on twitter.
No matter where you’re at in the reading process, a huge “thank you” for reading along with us. Heartfelt thanks to our dear Dickens Fellowship, The Dickens Society, and the Charles Dickens Letters Project for retweets, and to all those liking, sharing, and encouraging our Club, including Gina Dalfonzo, Dr. Christian Lehmann and Dr. Pete Orford. Huge “thank you” also to The Circumlocution Office (on twitter also!) for providing such a marvelous online resource for us.
And for any more recent members or for those who might be interested in joining: the revised two-and-a-half year reading schedule can be found here. Boze’s introduction to Barnaby Rudge can be found here. If you’ve been reading along with us but aren’t yet on the Member List, we would love to add you! Please feel free to message Rach here on the site, or on twitter.
Barnaby Rudge, Week Two (Chapters 1-19): A Summary
“The Maypole was an old building, with more gable ends than a lazy man would care to count on a sunny day; huge zig-zag chimneys, out of which it seemed as though even smoke could not choose but come in more than naturally fantastic shapes, imparted to it by its tortuous progress; and vast stables, gloomy, ruinous, and empty. The place was said to have been built in the days of King Henry the Eighth…”
We begin our mysterious journey with a mysterious stranger at the Maypole Inn, run by John Willet, on a night in March. The stranger asks about the nearby house which is known as the Warren, and the parish clerk (Solomon Daisy) tells of the murder there, twenty-two years before, of Reuben Haredale, brother of the current owner. (Reuben’s daughter, Emma, lives there, too.) On that night two decades before, the clerk had heard the mysterious ringing of the “corpse bell,” as he referred to it, only to find out that the murdered man had died while pulling on the bell cord. Because both the steward (Barnaby Rudge, Sr.) and the gardener were missing, they were suspected of the deed; shortly after, the body of Rudge was found in a ditch.
The stranger leaves that night—after striking the landlord’s son, Joe Willet—and with a mad dash on horseback, nearly runs into Gabriel Varden, a London locksmith, on the dark road. They stop, the stranger accusing him—unwarrantedly—of harming his horse, but starts back at the sight of the locksmith (who doesn’t recognize him). When Varden tells of this strange encounter when he stops at the Maypole, Joe Willet, son of the landlord John, accuses his father of treating him like a child, though he is a grown man. As Varden is returning to London, he encounters Barnaby, son of Haredale’s steward who had died mysteriously, shaken from witnessing a robbery and attack on a man who lays at his feet. The two take the injured man to Barnaby’s home, hoping that Mrs. Rudge can help him.
The next day, we meet Varden’s daughter, Dolly, and the ambitious, peacocky Simon (“Sim”) Tappertit, Varden’s apprentice. They hear about the scene between Mr. Willet and his son.
Gabriel visits the injured man—Edward Chester—at the Rudge residence. While there, Mrs. Rudge is startled by the sight of the mysterious stranger from the Maypole, whom she has clearly had some encounters with, but she won’t tell Varden how she knows him.
Back at home, Mrs. Varden—who is never happy about anything, or is happy at all the wrong moments—is with her old companion, the Protestant Manual. That night, Sim Tappertit (who has made a copy of Varden’s key to the house) steals out into the night. In a dank London cellar, Tappertit, who is known as the “Captain” of the “’Prentice Knights”—apprentices ready to rise up against their masters—leads a meeting of this odd assembly, where he commands that they shun Joe Willet (because he is interested in Dolly, whom Sim is also interested in).
That night, as Sim tries to sneak back into the Varden’s home, he doesn’t realize that the lock has been plugged by Miggs–Mrs. Varden’s maid and ardent supporter in the latter’s feeling of righteous self-congratulation in relation to all around her–who had heard him leave and suspects him of making a key copy. She toys with him a bit, but finally lets him in.
A new guest arrives at the Maypole—Sir John Chester, father of the injured young man, Edward—and there is only the lazy Hugh around to give help to the landlord, John Willet. Barnaby takes a message for Chester to the Warren. Barnaby is portrayed as being at home roaming out of doors; he has what might be termed an intellectual/developmental disability, and yet is freer and happier than most “clever” ones.
“You don’t see shadowy people…like those who live in sleep…Nor eyes in the knotted panes of glass, nor swift ghosts when it blows hard…nor see men stalking in the sky…I lead a merrier life than you, with all your cleverness. You’re the dull men. We’re the bright ones.”
Barnaby also has a pet raven, Grip, who chatters cunning phrases and seems almost possessed of a devilish or trickster spirit. The raven seems to call to Barnaby rather than the other way around.
“He calls me, and makes me go where he will. He goes on before, and I follow. He’s the master, and I’m the man. Is that the truth, Grip?”
There is some local gossip about the meeting between Sir John Chester and Mr. Haredale, and that it might end violently. But at the meeting, the men do have something in common: they don’t want their two children to end up together. Sir John wants his son, Edward (who is in love with Haredale’s niece, Emma), to marry a wealthy woman; Haredale wants Emma to marry a Catholic.
Joe, on his errand to pay a bill, is also downcast at the offhanded reception he receives by Dolly Varden as he pays her a visit, and considers joining the army in his despondence. On Joe’s way back, he ends up accompanying Edward, whom he meets on the road, on the way to the Warren, where he sneaks in for meeting with Emma. The two are discovered by Mr. Haredale, however, who berates Edward for sneaking in; Edward defends his actions and reaffirms his intention not to be put off of pursuing his love, Emma. Once Joe and Edward return to the Maypole, Edward realizes that his father is there, and had met with Haredale.
Later, Chester and his son, Edward, have a talk about Edward’s love for Emma, and is met with callous flippancy by Sir John Chester, who lays out the real state of the family finances: clearly, they don’t have as much money as Edward has believed; his father has been living on credit, and far above his means.
“All men are fortune-hunters, are they not?”
Mrs. Rudge becomes frightened by the sounds of a mysterious stranger as she is about ready to enter her home; she faints, and is carried in by the stranger—a robber demanding food—who hides when he hears a noise as Barnaby enters. Wandering the streets later, he encounters those leaving the meeting of the ‘Prentice Knights, and asks Stagg, a blind man, for a day’s shelter.
Edward asks Dolly to deliver a letter for him to the Warren when she goes. Mrs. Varden, meanwhile, is complaining and capricious, wanting to get out of the house but not wanting to admit it, is finally persuaded to take a little trip to the Maypole with himself and Dolly.
“All bars are snug places, but the Maypole’s was the very snuggest, cosiest, and completest bar, that ever the wit of man devised…It is a poor heart that never rejoices—it must have been the poorest, weakest, and most watery heart that ever beat, which would not have warmed towards the Maypole bar.”
Discussion Wrap-Up
Barnaby is Taking the Group by Storm!
Friends…did any of us expect such a lively reaction to Dickens’ most underappreciated novel? He had Dana at the Gordon Riots; Chris finds it “vastly more exciting than The Old Curiosity Shop“; Cassandra, delighting that there’s a murder, a talking raven, and a mention of Henry VIII, says that “Bleak House better be prepared; I might have a new favorite Dickens novel!”; the Stationmaster believes it “underrated”; I am loving the Gothic atmosphere and sense of foreboding…
Here’s a slideshow of the twitter reaction this week:
..
Of course, much of the excitement for delving into Barnaby in the first place can be traced to Boze’s marvelous intro. Gina, Chris, Dana and Daniel comment:
Also, a huge “thank you” to Chris, for sharing with us our beloved Peter Ackroyd’s introductions to both Barnaby Rudge and our previous read, The Old Curiosity Shop.
Dickens’ “Writing Lab”: Characterization; Foreshadowing; Is Dickens at the “Journeyman Stage”?; “Are They Moving Forward, Are They Standing Still”?; “Keep an Eye on Dolly Varden”
The Stationmaster begins his thoughts on characterization with the suggestion that we “keep an eye on Dolly Varden,” who is neither saintly (e.g. Little Nell) nor “flawed in a melodramatic creepy way” (e.g. Louisa Gradgrind), but that she comes across as a more recognizably “normal” young woman. He also gives a shout-out to the “unusual” leading-man, Joe Willet:
Chris feels that, with Barnaby, Dickens “has reached the journeyman stage” and “is now tackling more difficult composition and organizational skills”:
Lenny is curious about the complex character setups, the “budding sets of subplots,” and the “zig-zag narrative” that he has alluded to both with The Old Curiosity Shop and earlier works like Oliver Twist–the kind of narrative that Dickens was so masterful at. He also is intrigued by the subversive goings on, and the foreshadowing of coming events:
The Stationmaster weighs in again on Dickens’ characterizations: the “underrated Dickens bad guy” Sir John Chester; the more (“relatively”) sympathetic Mr. Haredale; the “female Uriah Heep,” Miggs, whom he delights in:
Lenny responds, curious as to how each of these characters will measure up to the events that are to come:
Chris responds on the “‘Prentice Knights,” on Miggs (“true sister of Sally Brass”), and the “Romeo & Juliet romance between Edward (Protestant) and Emma (Catholic).” But she also comments that there is a deliberate kind of slowness here–a sense of change coming. Which way will they turn?
Lenny agrees, “looking forward to how the narrative will expand on, build up or diminish the narrative flow and characterizations that are progressing”:
Applicability and Timeliness: Mob Violence and Ideology
The Stationmaster presents us an intriguing and inevitable question: What is the applicability of Barnaby Rudge today? (America has been following the January 6 hearings this year, and perhaps there is much to consider in this regard.) He feels as though “Barnaby Rudge is a better satire of modern America than his actual satire of America in Martin Chuzzlewit“:
Barnaby, “Supernatural Agents,” and the Gothic
Boze has been loving “the more Gothic descriptions” in this early portion of the novel. “Dickens is incapable of saying anything in a dull way.”
I compare some of its moments to “the better moments of Gothic stage melodrama of the period.” I am also so intrigued by Barnaby, the one character we haven’t talked at length about yet, and his “supernatural agent,” Grip the Raven:
Dickens and Catholicism: Siding with the Oppressed; “What is the True Religion?”
Following the above comment, Gina comments on Dickens’ “surprising level of sympathy for Catholics here–or perhaps not surprising, considering that he did tend to side with the oppressed!”
Whatever Dickens’ personal/cultural bias against Catholicism–which, as Gina mentions, is perhaps especially evident in Pictures from Italy–he did not only “side with the oppressed,” but seemed to have a somewhat haunted fixation or interest. He greatly admired Jeanne Jugan, for example, and her work for the poor. In the 1840s, he described to Forster a haunting dream that he had–both resembling Mary Hogarth, and a “Madonna”. Since I didn’t have Peter Ackroyd’s biography to hand, which contains a marvelous passage on it, I found it at another source:
A Look-Ahead to Week Two of Barnaby Rudge
Friends, this week we’ll be reading Chapters 20-39 of Barnaby Rudge.
If you’d like to read it online, here’s a link to our trusty Circumlocution Office, with additional resources. It can also be downloaded at Gutenberg.
Postscript: Final Thoughts on The Old Curiosity Shop
Though this is untypical, I wanted to add a postscript about some final thoughts from our previous read, The Old Curiosity Shop. Deacon Matthew, our wonderful new member, shared such a wealth of insight, particularly on Little Nell and her “via crucis,” that it deserves to be a separate post of its own, and I put it in full here:
“Every Pickwick needs his Sam, and every mother deserves her Kit.”
~Deacon Matthew
Marnie and I loved Deacon Matthew’s extraordinary reflection, and I put Marnie’s lovely response here, defending Little Nell against subsequent detractors, and likens Nell to Tennyson’s St. Agnes:
Daniel comments on the “rich tapestry of thoughts, insights, and considerations”:
Lenny lauds these wonderful thoughts, adding, among many other rich insights, that we need not have it only one way–either the Marchioness or Little Nell–in considering our proactive heroine:
“I believe the novel has it both ways and that the two young ‘women’ each act out her own particular and peculiar narrative according to the embedded characteristics of their differing personalities. Nell is ‘Nell’ and the Marchioness is ‘the Marchioness’; full stop (!) and they each, from a structural standpoint, move the novel along beautifully. Both reflect–in very different ways–the requisites that Dickens feels are NECESSARY to advance the novel’s plot or its ‘narrative progression.'”
~Lenny H.
The Stationmaster is still dubious, at best, about the grandfather, and hence about Nell’s sacrifice, but he is fully appreciative of the wealth of insights shared:
As Lenny writes, our “earlier perceptions” of our characters are “subject to change” as our novels progress and “the dynamic keeps happening ad infinitum“!
And in the midst of it all, as Deacon Matthew said, we still remember Little Nell. “May her memory be eternal!”
All the (Dickensian) Year Round 
Wow, Rach, WHAT a wrap-up! a real DOUBLE WHAMMY–with a brilliant summary of BARNABY and the inclusion of all the great and different personal insights about our present novel, but ALSO the post reading comments regarding CS. It seems that it’s getting more difficult to “let go” of the novels we’ve been reading. There is so much to be “mined” and even more to be talked about. Beginning with Boze’s very rich and imaginative opening statements about BARNABY, through the group commentary, and then with your inspired wrap-up–it’s been a truly rewarding 7 day experience. So much thanks to all!
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Aww, Lenny!!!! Thank you SO MUCH!! That means the whole world. There was a lot to cover because the thoughts were just so rich. I just love the fascinating reaction to Barnaby so far, and I myself hardly remember it, so, honestly, it feels like I’m coming to it fresh, and I’m surprised by how much I’m loving it. So looking forward to seeing how the reaction progresses, and how these (seemingly very deliberate) setups by Dickens are really paid off as it goes on. I have a feeling it’ll be really rich.
So glad you enjoyed the postscript compilation of these really rich comments about Shop, too! I didn’t want them to be lost…they were too good.
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Could anyone explain to me what the book by Lord Chesterfield is that John Chester reads in Chapter 23? It’s written like we’re supposed to know and my copy of the book doesn’t have footnotes. (That’s actually kind of refreshing since the copy of The Old Curiosity Shop that I used had so many footnotes that it got to be a pain. Of course, I’m one to talk. Some of the post on my blog are full of footnotes.)
BTW, Rach, I noticed in your recap you didn’t explain who Miggs is. Not that it matters since we’re all reading the book and we know, but I wondered if it was deliberate or an oversight.
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Stationmaster, and everyone,
The footnote in my edition reads as follows:
Lord Chesterfield: Philip Dormer Stanhope (1694-1773), fourth Earl of Chesterfield. Hiss “Letters to his son Philip Stanhope” gave instruction in manners and morals and were published after Chesterfield’s death in two and then four volumes in 1774. Chester is therefore reading a recently published book, and a popular one. (Eleven editions were published in London and Dublin by the end of the century.) As David Roberts notes, the principles he taught
“proved easy to caricature: self-interest above morality, adultery above marriage, cynicism above patriotism, breeding above all. Chesterfield badgers his son to find a mature society beauty to ‘polish’ him; tells him to seem trustworthy but never to trust; advises him that his dancing-master is more important than Aristotle. He favours smutty repartee with fifteen-year-old girls; prefers deceitful high-society liaisons, sometimes two or more at a time, to affairs of the heart; encourages the boy to enjoy his father’s old flames.” (“Lord Chesterfield’s Letters”, ed. David Roberts, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), pp. x-xi)
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Thanks!
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Incredible find, you guys! We might equate, then, Sir John with Lord Chesterfield…. The 19th century readers would probably be aware of this equation right off the bat; and this added knowledge to our assessment of him really deepens our awareness of the immoral and dissipated character of this novel’s chief villain in its early stages. Literally every dialogue he has with the numerous actors in this novel displays his sneaky, sleight-of-hand, nasty, salacious personality. In no other novel before BARNABY, do we see such long segments of a particular evil character–all revealed THROUGH EXTENSIVE DIALOGUE; again and again, we experience WITH those conversational “victims” (Hugh, Edward [several times], Haredale, Emma, Mrs. Varden, etc.) his mendacious and patronizing words; thusly, he reveals in depth his self-seeking and vicious personality.
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Thanks, Chris!!! And Stationmaster, good catch!! I sure didn’t intend it, so I’ll go back & edit later 🙂
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Piggybacking on what we were talking about before about applicability, there have been a lot of scandals about sexual harassment lately, so I feel like if the BBC or whoever did a miniseries now, Dolly’s terrifying encounter with Hugh would come across as topical. Of course, sexual harassment is a bigger theme in Nicholas Nickleby, but I feel like we have enough adaptations of that book. (Of course, if a new and really great one came along, I wouldn’t complain.) There’s only been, like, one adaptation of Barnaby Rudge. I bet if they made one today, people who didn’t look at the credits might not even guess it was based on an old book. And I haven’t even gotten to the political stuff with Lord Gordon!
This is my second read of the novel, and I was surprised to find myself feeling a little sorry for Hugh. I mean, he’s obviously a horrible person and I’ve no wish to excuse him but when he talks about his mother’s death, I do feel kind of bad for the guy. I don’t remember that from my first reading.
If there’s a dramatic weakness in Barnaby Rudge, IMO, it’s that Mrs. Rudge’s secret is very easy to guess if you’ve been paying attention. Usually, Dickens’s plot twists are a little more surprising. The only one I think is this transparent is Esther Summerson’s parentage in Bleak House.
I know I wrote before that Mrs. Varden isn’t as funny as some other similar characters in Dickens, but her harangue against Hugh in Chapter 21 amused me, coming as it did in the middle of such an intense, dramatic scene. And the fact that, as ardent a Protestant as she is, she’s apparently fond of the Catholic Emma Haredale is an interesting bit of depth.
I’d like to thank Chris again for explaining the reference to Lord Chesterfield. Knowing that adds succulent irony to John Chester’s later telling Mrs. Varden that the Protestant Manual is his favorite book.
I’ve been trying to put my finger on why Barnaby Rudge feels like a throwback to the style of Oliver Twist. (Not that that was much of an accomplishment. Dickens only wrote two novels between them.) I think it’s because there are fewer positive relationships between family members in the first section of each. The Old Curiosity Shop has Little Nell and her grandfather and Kit Nubbles and his mother and siblings. Nicholas Nickleby has the bond between Nicholas and Kate and even most of the negative or neutral characters have good relationships with their family members. Barnaby Rudge, so far, has Gabriel Varden and Dolly and Barnaby and Mrs. Rudge but all the other relationships between family members are, at best, somewhat dysfunctional. (Boze wrote about this in the intro.)
This lack of warmth could have made the book offputtingly chilly, but I find it invigorating. And, hey, it’s not like there are no positive relationships in the story at all! And just as Oliver Twist gets warmer later on when we meet the Maylies, some of the bad relationships in Barnaby Rudge will have improved by the end. I wonder how much of this is the result of Dickens starting the book so long before its publication.
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Sorry for spoiling future events for first time readers. I was on kind of a roll, and I forgot to be conscientious.
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Stationmaster – in response to your Twitter question “I’m actually having a little trouble following some of his plotting. Why did he give Emma Haredale the letter again?”
Chester delivers Dolly’s letter to Emma because he wants Emma to know why Edward has not responded to her letter and also because it gives Chester an excuse to talk to Emma and further meddle in the love affair. The letter that he destroyed, Emma’s to Edward, he describes to Hugh as “directed to my son who resides in this very place” that is, Chester’s home. So, in Chester’s mind at least, destroying Emma’s letter was something he (Chester) had a right to do. He has no such claim on Dolly’s letter to Emma. Being able to deliver Dolly’s letter works into Chester’s scheme of breaking the lovers apart – Emma now knows Edward hasn’t received her love letter and Chester can lie to her about Edward’s motives and behavior.
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Thanks, Chris, for the thoughts on Chester’s motives, which make a lot of sense. Doesn’t Sir John Chester remind one of a kind of prototype Marquis St Evremonde??? This superficial politeness and flippant amiability, disguising a completely beyond-dissolute and scheming villain underneath. He is so…OLD REGIME!! Ugh. One sees why 1789 happened in France…and ‘Prentice Knights in Barnaby’s world ;D (even though the latter is more master-apprentice…but the rebellion is in the air)
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I’m glad the Chester/Chesterfield connection came up, as the scene of Chester’s reading of Chesterfield’s Letters rang a bell with me from my college years, studying British history. Resorting first to (of course) Wikipedia, I came across this: “Samuel Johnson said of the letters that ‘they teach the morals of a whore, and the manners of a dancing-master’ as means for getting on in the world as a gentleman.[9]”
Pretty much sums Chester up. And added to that is Lord Chesterfield’s notoriety as an orator, adept at all the little rhetorical refinements.
If anyone is curious, Chesterfield’s Letters are free to download as an ebook on Gutenberg: https://gutenberg.org/ebooks/3351
I’d like to add that Sean Barrett, the wonderful reader of the audiobook version I’m listening to, gives a perfectly delicious, snake-charming performance of Chester–the kind that induces the listener to imagine, in gothic detail, all the possible ways such a villain might properly be done for before the story is concluded.
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I forgot to mention something in my last comment. It’s interesting that long before we get to the description of the Gordon Riots, Dickens warns against another kind of mob in his description of John Chester at a party in Chapter 24.
“How the accomplished gentleman spent the evening in the midst of a dazzling and brilliant circle; how he enchanted all those with whom he mingled by the grace of his deportment, the politeness of his manner, the vivacity of his conversation, and the sweetness of his voice; how it was observed in every corner, that Chester was a man of that happy disposition that nothing ruffled him, that he was one on whom the world’s cares and errors sat lightly as his dress, and in whose smiling face a calm and tranquil mind was constantly reflected; how honest men, who by instinct knew him better, bowed down before him nevertheless, deferred to his every word, and courted his favourable notice; how people, who really had good in them, went with the stream, and fawned and flattered, and approved, and despised themselves while they did so, and yet had not the courage to resist; how, in short, he was one of those who are received and cherished in society (as the phrase is) by scores who individually would shrink from and be repelled by the object of their lavish regard; are things of course, which will suggest themselves.”
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Stationmaster: you are so right on, here! Sir John–in spite of his hugely deficient character in terms of his morality–is PUBLICALLY revered by those who socialize with him, pander to him, but who, when in private, probably despise him. What is most relevant is that Dickens is providing an OUTSIDE view of him from the point of view of others who socialize with him, those who are probably members of his class. As readers we are privileged to see him–more or less–from the INSIDE, not only his thoughts but his private conversations with various members of the “cast” of characters we are most familiar with. In this more “private” sphere, we get to see him being accepted or rejected by those whom he is duping as well as those who he is insulting.
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A theme this week seems to be me finding characters more sympathetic than I previously did.
The first time I read the book I enjoyed Joe Willet’s character, but I’m really, really liking him this time. Maybe it’s because I’m also wishing I could move out from my parents’ house and make a life for myself, though I should stress that my parents are ten thousand times better than John Willet. And I’m really enjoying the chemistry between Joe and Dolly. I think they might be the best romance Dickens had written so far, though I can’t say why. It’s interesting that you’d expect Ned Chester and Emma Haredale to be the alpha couple since they’re higher on the social scale and have fewer jokes at their expense, but Joe and Dolly seem to receive the most development.
The contrasting personalities of and dynamic between Lord George Gordon, Gashford and John Grueby is great. I’m not an expert on the Gordon Riots, so can someone tell me if Gashford is based on a historical personality? Dickens seems to be scapegoating him, to an extent, and portraying Gordon as a tragic antagonist. Is that too generous a portrayal of the historical figure or is it fair? Whatever the case, it makes for a great character.
With Lord Gordon getting money from the United Bulldogs, formerly the ‘Prentice Knights, we see how politics corrupts even well-intentioned politicians. (I know that wanting to take away the rights of English Catholics may not sound like a good intention, but it’s better than wanting to rape your boss’s daughter. At least, Lord Gordon and Mrs. Varden care about morality on some level.) I forgot how Dickens shows all the different kinds of people who get involved with movements like these. You’ve got people like Mrs. Varden who are motivated by moral convictions and a certain amount of paranoia. You’ve got people like Gashford who are just exploiting religion to get power. You’ve got people like Dennis who are motivated by cynical self-interest and, again, a certain amount of paranoia. You’ve got people like Hugh who just want an excuse to be violent. (Note he calls himself a “No Popery-man,” not a Protestant.) And then you’ve got Lord Gordon who is sort of a combination of all these things with a love for the spotlight thrown in. As negative a view as Dickens has of the Riots, he doesn’t stereotype the supporters. I mean he does but shows a lot of different stereotypes, not just one kind. This part of the book is so complex and feels so believable.
The fact that Gordon works by reviving “bygone bugbears which had lain quietly in their graves for centuries,” reinforces my opinion that the world would be a better place if children weren’t forced to learn history. 😉 Then again, if I remember my history classes better, I wouldn’t have needed to ask how accurate Dickens’s depiction of Lord Gordon is. 🙂
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My edition has an appendix on Lord George Gordon and the Gordon Riots and says “The figure of Gashford is Dickens’s invention.”
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Yes, Chris, that is my understanding too, that Gashford is an invention of Dickens–another interesting character who, as Stationmaster says, uses religion for his own ends, and, as Lenny pointed out, uses/flatters Gordon for his own ends (Iago: “In following him, I follow but myself”)
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Oooh I have more comments to read…love it! Just popping in quickly to say how much I’m honestly *reveling* in Sir John Chester. 😈 I was just telling Boze: he’s one of my absolute **favorite** types of Villain!!! And I agree with the Stationmaster that he is an **underrated** Dickensian villain. The smooth manipulation, the flattery, the seemingly empathetic persona…gosh, he just has everyone around his little finger! I absolutely Love his characterization. It reminds me of some of my favorite interpretations of Iago (e.g. Ian McKellen’s in the version with (opera singer!) Willard White and Imogen Stubbs, which is my **favorite** version of Othello, ever! I can just hear Sir John…
“In following him, I follow but myself./Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,/But seeming so for my peculiar end./For when my outward action doth demonstrate/The native act and figure of my heart/In complement extern, ’tis not long after/But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve/For daws to peck at. I am not what I am.”
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Rach: as I wrote last week, Sir John Chester is a far more interesting antagonist than either Quilp or Ralph Nickleby. This is not to take away from them as major characters in their novels, as they, too, reign supreme, working as catalysts to drive their respective novels forward. But our views of Sir John are much more concrete, written in depth with long and complex dialogues showing the remorselessness of his character. His “fingerprints” are everywhere in the earlier stages of this novel, and the multiple confrontations he has with his son, with Hugh, with Haredale and even with Mrs. Varden are just hair-raising and etch his character so marvelously! And the quote from OTHELLO is so powerful in the way it fits his character.
But the early lines from the quotation really fit another nasty schemer, Lord Gordon’s chief henchman, Gashford. Dickens’ early portrait of him fits the Shakespeare quote to a “T”:
“In following him, I follow but myself./Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,/But seeming so for my peculiar end….”
Gashford is all about himself, and we see this during HIS many conversations with Gordon. He is so obsequious in his direct address to his leader, but afterwards he reveals that he is all about himself and cares little for the anti-Popish activities of the Protestant Association. He’s just “using” Gordon for whatever gains he can get for himself! He loves to have this kind of power over his wishy-washy “boss.”
Schemers and their schemes run throughout all the Dickens’ narratives we’ve read so far; the “Sketches” were filled with the nefarious acts of various characters, and when we get to the novels, we see that Dickens has an utter fascination with these people who either overtly or covertly try to gain leverage and extract gains from their victims. And this motif is present in huge quantities in BARNABY. It’s almost as though there is a contest between those who want to gain leverage and control over others. I’m tempted to say that this is one of the main themes of this novel. Maybe we could say that the novel presents a kind of hierarchy of “villains”–each one of which is attempting to gain control over their personal territorial interests. Sir John obviously heads the list of deceivers and planners, but he is followed closely by Sim, Mrs. Varden, Gashford, the hangman, and Barnaby Senior. They are ALL leverage seekers, controllers, who literally or figuratively ride roughshod over their many and various victims. And, as we see, while the novel progresses, the arrival of George Gordon and his subsequent activities create even more circumstances for these opportunists to survive and flourish!
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Just posted this on twitter (hence the brokenness into so many parts–but I couldn’t include images here, alas) and thought it might be of interest. I knew next to nothing about Lord George Gordon or the Riots of 1780:
(🧵#1) #DickensClub, I was puzzled re: why Dickens includes this passage in #BarnabyRudge (a thread about Lord Gordon & the Riots):
Gordon: “I dreamed that we were Jews, Gashford. You and I – both of us – Jews with long beards.”
Gashford: “Heaven forbid, my lord! We might as well be Papists.”
(🧵#2) Knowing almost nothing about the Gordon Riots or Lord Gordon himself, I was curious as to whether Dickens, who shared much cultural prejudice against Jews and Catholics, was comparing antisemitism in British society to the anti-catholicism that fuels the Gordon Riots of 1780 (which he condemns)…
(🧵#3) Lord George Gordon was a Scottish nobleman born in London in 1751. He was a naval officer (distrusted by fellow officers for trying to improve the lives of his underlings), until he resigned his commission and went into Parliament.
(🧵#4) Gordon was known to be a complex and eccentric personality. He suggested that fellow Scotsmen at his call would rise up against “a papist” (as he said Scots perceived him) king. He’d read lengthy Acts from decades ago (several times) to an ever-dwindling House, and frequently interrupted others.
(🧵#5) The Riots of 1780 followed closely after the Papists Act of 1778, which effectively repealed some restrictions for Catholics engaging in public life (under certain conditions) and did away with some of the anti-catholic measures of 80 years previous (the Popery Act 1698).
(🧵#6) “Although it did not grant freedom of worship, it allowed Catholics to join the army and purchase land if they took an oath of allegiance. The section as to taking and prosecuting priests was repealed, as well as the penalty of perpetual imprisonment for keeping a school. Roman Catholics were also enabled to inherit and purchase land…”
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Papists_Act_1778
(🧵#7) This was also the time of negotiations with Catholic Spain and Austria re: the American War of Independence.
Gordon had just been asked to lead the Protestant Association (largely Calvinist) in November of 1779, in hopes that he would aid in repealing the Act of 1778.
(🧵#8) Gordon tried to speak to George III, but to little avail. The Prime Minister, sensing the danger of the petitions coming from the Protestant Association, tried to buy Gordon off with money and position, but to no avail.
(🧵#9) Many feared the Act not so much because of anti-catholicism, but because many of the stipulations against Catholics from the Act of 1698 were not enforced anyway, so that bringing it to the public eye would cause needless violence.
(🧵#10) When the Protestant Association (and sympathizers) of up to 60k people marched on the House of Commons on 2 June 1780, in efforts to repeal the 1778 Act, Gordon led with speeches but the situation quickly became uncontrollable, and mob rioting and looting lasted in full force for 6 days until the army intervened.
(🧵#11) (Note: Historians, including George Rudé, suggest that other factors were playing into the violence as well: economic hardship–rising prices, falling wages– mostly due to the expensive American War of Independence, which Gordon opposed.)
(🧵#12) Gordon was charged with treason but was acquitted due to a strong defence that treason was not his intention. However, he did become involved with subsequent political and eccelesiastical matters–including insulting Marie Antoinette–which led to his excommunication from the Anglican church and his imprisonment.
(🧵#13) I’d like to learn more of the development of this, but, just before his imprisonment in Newgate, Gordon had converted to Judaism, & lived an orthodox life and was charitable to all his fellow inmates and visitors, and kept the law strictly until his death of typhoid fever in 1793, “whilst singing Adon Olam with his last breath” (Rabbi Dunner).
(🧵#14) A fascinating article by Rabbi Dunner, both about Reb Yisrael ben Avraham Avinu Lord George Gordon (his Hebrew name) and his conversion, can be found here, part one of two: about https://jewishhomela.com/2015/08/13/jewish-history-the-curious-tale-of-lord-george-gordon-modern-historys-most-unlikely-convert-to-judaism
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Nice work, here, Rach. Lord Gordon seems like a really complex and strangely confused character–in both “real” life and in the “life” of this novel. With regard to his relationship to Parliament, he sounds like he was a bit of a pain in the arse. This following quote of yours seems to sum up the Parliamentary frustrations his fellow members had with him:
“(🧵#4) Gordon was known to be a complex and eccentric personality. He suggested that fellow Scotsmen at his call would rise up against “a papist” (as he said Scots perceived him) king. He’d read lengthy Acts from decades ago (several times) to an ever-dwindling House, and frequently interrupted others….”
In this quote, he seems peculiarly out of touch with the reality of his constituents and with the tone of the country. The fact that the current (1780) bill “accepting” Catholicism on the new terms was already being played out in the daily lives of his constituents seems to have passed him by. And his persistent penchant for dredging up “Acts from decades ago,” shows both his extremely conservative nature and highlights him as an anachronism.
My guess is that Dickens found in him an interesting historical figure because of this paradox–that such an old-fashioned personality, one who had so plainly retrograde ideas and ideals–could incite 60,000 followers to fight against the new “pro-papist” laws and cause so much havoc and destruction! And also, unexpectedly, it’s clear that Gordon was still able to tap into the latent hatred that some (many?) of the British populace continued to have toward Catholics.
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Lenny, I love this thought, that “Dickens found in him an interesting historical figure because of this paradox”. I admire that Gordon seemed to stick to his convictions; yet, as you say, he was sometimes very out of touch with how others were perceiving his efforts, and how to deal with others. I’m getting that sense from Dickens’ portrayal so far; Gordon seems to “need” the reassurances of Gashford, and need the sense of his having some greater “role” to play in leadership and in…Providence? I’m not sure. But an interesting figure.
And I think Dickens is brilliantly portraying the “MOB” here, too, even though we haven’t gotten to the riots yet: but here is a man who can inspire a lot of activity, but the activity gets quickly out of his control. As we’ll see later in A Tale of Two Cities, we’re meeting characters who have little personal religious or political conviction or “stake,” but are using this movement for their “own peculiar end”: an excuse for letting out the anger and frustration that is their lot in life (Hugh, Dennis); a need for affirmation and a sense of their own greatness, however “little” they are, physically or in society (Sim). This mob-mentality is an absolutely fascinating phenomenon, and plays on the worst in human nature, giving people an excuse to release the worst of human nature without restraint or check…but on the contrary, because they see themselves as playing some great “role,” the more violent and forceful they are, the more they are lauded! (These were the “true patriots” of the French Revolution too…the kinds who supported the September massacres, for example, and the Law of Prairial in 1793, when any sort of fair trial by jury was essentially done away with. The “Terror”!)
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p.s. here’s a link to the original twitter thread w/ images:
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I want to follow up on Rachel’s twitter “conversation” regarding the character of Lord Gordon, my response to her tweet, and make some references to the fine insights that Chris has below comparing the looks and actions of Lord Gordon with Barnaby, Jr.
Our first extended view of Gordon comes when he arrives at the Maypole Inn (Chapter 36), is settled into his rooms, and has a long, interesting and complex conversation with his chief aid and flattere–Gashford:
“As he bustled in and out of the room, intent on these arrangements, he had an opportunity of observing the two travellers, of whom, as yet, he knew nothing but the voice. The lord, the great personage who did the Maypole so much honour, was about the middle height, of a slender make, and sallow complexion, with an aquiline nose, and long hair of a reddish brown, combed perfectly straight and smooth about his ears, and slightly powdered, but without the faintest vestige of a curl. He was attired, under his greatcoat, in a full suit of black, quite free from any ornament, and of the most precise and sober cut. The gravity of his dress, together with a certain lankness of cheek and stiffness of deportment, added nearly ten years to his age, but his figure was that of one not yet past thirty. As he stood musing in the red glow of the fire, it was striking to observe his very bright large eye, which betrayed a restlessness of thought and purpose, singularly at variance with the studied composure and sobriety of his mien, and with his quaint and sad apparel. It had nothing harsh or cruel in its expression; neither had his face, which was thin and mild, and wore an air of melancholy; but it was suggestive of an indefinable uneasiness; which infected those who looked upon him, and filled them with a kind of pity for the man: though why it did so, they would have had some trouble to explain.
Gashford, the secretary, was taller, angularly made, high-shouldered, bony, and ungraceful. His dress, in imitation of his superior, was demure and staid in the extreme; his manner, formal and constrained. This gentleman had an overhanging brow, great hands and feet and ears, and a pair of eyes that seemed to have made an unnatural retreat into his head, and to have dug themselves a cave to hide in. His manner was smooth and humble, but very sly and slinking. He wore the aspect of a man who was always lying in wait for something that WOULDN’T come to pass; but he looked patient—very patient—and fawned like a spaniel dog. Even now, while he warmed and rubbed his hands before the blaze, he had the air of one who only presumed to enjoy it in his degree as a commoner; and though he knew his lord was not regarding him, he looked into his face from time to time, and with a meek and deferential manner, smiled as if for practice.”
–and thus, the revealing DIALOGUE begins:
“‘So ends, my lord,’ said Gashford, filling his glass with great complacency, ‘the blessed work of a most blessed day.’
‘And of a blessed yesterday,’ said his lordship, raising his head.
‘Ah!’—and here the secretary clasped his hands—’a blessed yesterday indeed! The Protestants of Suffolk are godly men and true. Though others of our countrymen have lost their way in darkness, even as we, my lord, did lose our road to-night, theirs is the light and glory.’
‘Did I move them, Gashford?’ said Lord George.
‘Move them, my lord! Move them! They cried to be led on against the Papists, they vowed a dreadful vengeance on their heads, they roared like men possessed—’
‘But not by devils,’ said his lord.
‘By devils! my lord! By angels.’
‘Yes—oh surely—by angels, no doubt,’ said Lord George, thrusting his hands into his pockets, taking them out again to bite his nails, and looking uncomfortably at the fire. ‘Of course by angels—eh Gashford?’
‘You do not doubt it, my lord?’ said the secretary.
‘No—No,’ returned his lord. ‘No. Why should I? I suppose it would be decidedly irreligious to doubt it—wouldn’t it, Gashford? Though there certainly were,’ he added, without waiting for an answer, ‘some plaguy ill-looking characters among them.’
‘When you warmed,’ said the secretary, looking sharply at the other’s downcast eyes, which brightened slowly as he spoke; ‘when you warmed into that noble outbreak; when you told them that you were never of the lukewarm or the timid tribe, and bade them take heed that they were prepared to follow one who would lead them on, though to the very death; when you spoke of a hundred and twenty thousand men across the Scottish border who would take their own redress at any time, if it were not conceded; when you cried “Perish the Pope and all his base adherents; the penal laws against them shall never be repealed while Englishmen have hearts and hands”—and waved your own and touched your sword; and when they cried “No Popery!” and you cried “No; not even if we wade in blood,” and they threw up their hats and cried “Hurrah! not even if we wade in blood; No Popery! Lord George! Down with the Papists—Vengeance on their heads:” when this was said and done, and a word from you, my lord, could raise or still the tumult—ah! then I felt what greatness was indeed, and thought, When was there ever power like this of Lord George Gordon’s!’
‘It’s a great power. You’re right. It is a great power!’ he cried with sparkling eyes. ‘But—dear Gashford—did I really say all that?’
‘And how much more!’ cried the secretary, looking upwards. ‘Ah! how much more!’
‘And I told them what you say, about the one hundred and forty thousand men in Scotland, did I!’ he asked with evident delight. ‘That was bold.’
‘Our cause is boldness. Truth is always bold.’
‘Certainly. So is religion. She’s bold, Gashford?’
‘The true religion is, my lord.’
‘And that’s ours,’ he rejoined, moving uneasily in his seat, and biting his nails as though he would pare them to the quick. ‘There can be no doubt of ours being the true one. You feel as certain of that as I do, Gashford, don’t you?’
‘Does my lord ask ME,’ whined Gashford, drawing his chair nearer with an injured air, and laying his broad flat hand upon the table; ‘ME,’ he repeated, bending the dark hollows of his eyes upon him with an unwholesome smile, ‘who, stricken by the magic of his eloquence in Scotland but a year ago, abjured the errors of the Romish church, and clung to him as one whose timely hand had plucked me from a pit?’
‘True. No—No. I—I didn’t mean it,’ replied the other, shaking him by the hand, rising from his seat, and pacing restlessly about the room. ‘It’s a proud thing to lead the people, Gashford,’ he added as he made a sudden halt.
‘By force of reason too,’ returned the pliant secretary.
‘Ay, to be sure. They may cough and jeer, and groan in Parliament, and call me fool and madman, but which of them can raise this human sea and make it swell and roar at pleasure? Not one.’
‘Not one,’ repeated Gashford.
‘Which of them can say for his honesty, what I can say for mine; which of them has refused a minister’s bribe of one thousand pounds a year, to resign his seat in favour of another? Not one.’
‘Not one,’ repeated Gashford again—taking the lion’s share of the mulled wine between whiles.
‘And as we are honest, true, and in a sacred cause, Gashford,’ said Lord George with a heightened colour and in a louder voice, as he laid his fevered hand upon his shoulder, ‘and are the only men who regard the mass of people out of doors, or are regarded by them, we will uphold them to the last; and will raise a cry against these un-English Papists which shall re-echo through the country, and roll with a noise like thunder. I will be worthy of the motto on my coat of arms, “Called and chosen and faithful.”
‘Called,’ said the secretary, ‘by Heaven.’
‘I am.’
‘Chosen by the people.’
‘Yes.’
‘Faithful to both.’
‘To the block!’
It would be difficult to convey an adequate idea of the excited manner in which he gave these answers to the secretary’s promptings; of the rapidity of his utterance, or the violence of his tone and gesture; in which, struggling through his Puritan’s demeanour, was something wild and ungovernable which broke through all restraint. For some minutes he walked rapidly up and down the room, then stopping suddenly, exclaimed,
‘Gashford—YOU moved them yesterday too. Oh yes! You did.’
‘I shone with a reflected light, my lord,’ replied the humble secretary, laying his hand upon his heart. ‘I did my best.’
‘You did well,’ said his master, ‘and are a great and worthy instrument. If you will ring for John Grueby to carry the portmanteau into my room, and will wait here while I undress, we will dispose of business as usual, if you’re not too tired.’
‘Too tired, my lord!—But this is his consideration! Christian from head to foot.’ With which soliloquy, the secretary tilted the jug, and looked very hard into the mulled wine, to see how much remained.
‘Move them, my lord! Move them! They cried to be led on against the Papists, they vowed a dreadful vengeance on their heads, they roared like men possessed—’
‘But not by devils,’ said his lord.
‘By devils! my lord! By angels.’
‘Yes—oh surely—by angels, no doubt,’ said Lord George, thrusting his hands into his pockets, taking them out again to bite his nails, and looking uncomfortably at the fire. ‘Of course by angels—eh Gashford?’
‘You do not doubt it, my lord?’ said the secretary.
‘No—No,’ returned his lord. ‘No. Why should I? I suppose it would be decidedly irreligious to doubt it—wouldn’t it, Gashford? Though there certainly were,’ he added, without waiting for an answer, ‘some plaguy ill-looking characters among them.’
‘When you warmed,’ said the secretary, looking sharply at the other’s downcast eyes, which brightened slowly as he spoke; ‘when you warmed into that noble outbreak; when you told them that you were never of the lukewarm or the timid tribe, and bade them take heed that they were prepared to follow one who would lead them on, though to the very death; when you spoke of a hundred and twenty thousand men across the Scottish border who would take their own redress at any time, if it were not conceded; when you cried “Perish the Pope and all his base adherents; the penal laws against them shall never be repealed while Englishmen have hearts and hands”—and waved your own and touched your sword; and when they cried “No Popery!” and you cried “No; not even if we wade in blood,” and they threw up their hats and cried “Hurrah! not even if we wade in blood; No Popery! Lord George! Down with the Papists—Vengeance on their heads:” when this was said and done, and a word from you, my lord, could raise or still the tumult—ah! then I felt what greatness was indeed, and thought, When was there ever power like this of Lord George Gordon’s!’
‘It’s a great power. You’re right. It is a great power!’ he cried with sparkling eyes. ‘But—dear Gashford—did I really say all that?’
‘And how much more!’ cried the secretary, looking upwards. ‘Ah! how much more!’
‘And I told them what you say, about the one hundred and forty thousand men in Scotland, did I!’ he asked with evident delight. ‘That was bold.’
‘Our cause is boldness. Truth is always bold.’
‘Certainly. So is religion. She’s bold, Gashford?’
‘The true religion is, my lord.’
‘And that’s ours,’ he rejoined, moving uneasily in his seat, and biting his nails as though he would pare them to the quick. ‘There can be no doubt of ours being the true one. You feel as certain of that as I do, Gashford, don’t you?’
‘Does my lord ask ME,’ whined Gashford, drawing his chair nearer with an injured air, and laying his broad flat hand upon the table; ‘ME,’ he repeated, bending the dark hollows of his eyes upon him with an unwholesome smile, ‘who, stricken by the magic of his eloquence in Scotland but a year ago, abjured the errors of the Romish church, and clung to him as one whose timely hand had plucked me from a pit?’
‘True. No—No. I—I didn’t mean it,’ replied the other, shaking him by the hand, rising from his seat, and pacing restlessly about the room. ‘It’s a proud thing to lead the people, Gashford,’ he added as he made a sudden halt.
‘By force of reason too,’ returned the pliant secretary.
‘Ay, to be sure. They may cough and jeer, and groan in Parliament, and call me fool and madman, but which of them can raise this human sea and make it swell and roar at pleasure? Not one.’
‘Not one,’ repeated Gashford.
‘Which of them can say for his honesty, what I can say for mine; which of them has refused a minister’s bribe of one thousand pounds a year, to resign his seat in favour of another? Not one.’
‘Not one,’ repeated Gashford again—taking the lion’s share of the mulled wine between whiles.
‘And as we are honest, true, and in a sacred cause, Gashford,’ said Lord George with a heightened colour and in a louder voice, as he laid his fevered hand upon his shoulder, ‘and are the only men who regard the mass of people out of doors, or are regarded by them, we will uphold them to the last; and will raise a cry against these un-English Papists which shall re-echo through the country, and roll with a noise like thunder. I will be worthy of the motto on my coat of arms, “Called and chosen and faithful.”
‘Called,’ said the secretary, ‘by Heaven.’
‘I am.’
‘Chosen by the people.’
‘Yes.’
‘Faithful to both.’
‘To the block!’
It would be difficult to convey an adequate idea of the excited manner in which he gave these answers to the secretary’s promptings; of the rapidity of his utterance, or the violence of his tone and gesture; in which, struggling through his Puritan’s demeanour, was something wild and ungovernable which broke through all restraint. For some minutes he walked rapidly up and down the room, then stopping suddenly, exclaimed,
‘Gashford—YOU moved them yesterday too. Oh yes! You did.’
‘I shone with a reflected light, my lord,’ replied the humble secretary, laying his hand upon his heart. ‘I did my best.’
‘You did well,’ said his master, ‘and are a great and worthy instrument. If you will ring for John Grueby to carry the portmanteau into my room, and will wait here while I undress, we will dispose of business as usual, if you’re not too tired.’
‘Too tired, my lord!—But this is his consideration! Christian from head to foot.’ With which soliloquy, the secretary tilted the jug, and looked very hard into the mulled wine, to see how much remained.”
I realize that this is a VERY long quote, but it really puts into high relief the rather diffident, “plain,” unassuming and melancholy character of the Scottish Lord as it contrasts with the the obsequious and sly personality of his “secretary” Gashford. The latter imitates the dress of the former–his clothes “staid” and “demure,” but puts into relief, with his powerful and primitive physical attributes (large hands, “overhanging brow,” the more diminuitive Lord (“slender” and “sallow.”)
More importantly is the notion we readers get that, throughout these opening paragraphs, there is a sense that all is not right with these individuals–personally as well as how they react with one another. Most often we see that Gashford is the more forceful personality, even aggressive at times, while Lord Gordon tends to feed off the pronouncements that his assistant makes.
This opening example pretty much sets the stage for what follows:
“‘Ah!’—and here the secretary clasped his hands—’a blessed yesterday indeed! The Protestants of Suffolk are godly men and true. Though others of our countrymen have lost their way in darkness, even as we, my lord, did lose our road to-night, theirs is the light and glory.’
‘Did I move them, Gashford?’ said Lord George.
‘Move them, my lord! Move them! They cried to be led on against the Papists, they vowed a dreadful vengeance on their heads, they roared like men possessed—’”
From the start, Gashford takes the lead, makes the more substantive comments, particularly when directed toward the effectiveness of the day’s activities, and leaves Gordon to react and reply to his secretary’s running commentary. What is most evident is Gashford’s almost embarrassing pandering to his “Lord” AND Gordon’s continually questioning whether the effect or the impact of his day’s strife to capture the hearts and minds of his followers has been successful. Whereas Gashford in his obsequies continually sucks up to and fortifies Gordon, Gordon’s words invariably show his timid, self-conscious, doubting side. Note the fact that he is very nervous, continually biting his fingernails! His insecurity–which is EVER present here–acts as a foil to the more resolute, even “bullying” and patronizing rhetoric of Gashford. Really, Gordon come across as pretty much of a star-struck whimp compared to the forceful and calculating Bashford. In short, the secretary in his own subtle and not so subtle way is “bashing” his boss to gain his (Gordon’s) own ends.
Here, then lie some of the cogent comparisons that Chris makes between the Scottish Lord and Barnaby, Jr. Barnaby is a dreamer, he is–much of the time–from and in another world–will surprise when he becomes directly involved in present time, and seems to have his antennae on high alert, reacting always to either physical or mental stimulus. In his own world he is a doer, but in the world of others (what we might call the “real” world) he tends to take a more passive approach, directed one way or another, by others.
Thus, the presentation that we have in this long dialogue with Gashford. There are times when Lord Gordon seems not entirely present, that his mind is busily working on the “events” of the day but only superficially attending to them. Could it be that he is more the dreamer than the doer? That what he has done with his propensity toward “no Popery” is just an idea, a something that animates him, winds him up, but which he really has no clue about the consequences his “revolutionary” actions will lead to?
Bashford, then, is governed by his wanting to control, to have power, to be opportunistic. More narrowly, Lord Gordon is motivated by an anachronistic, blinding IDEE FIXE. The remaining 40 chapters of the novel will no doubt illustrate how these dimensions of these two personalities will result in some kind of historic cataclysm.
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Lenny, absolutely! How many of these scheming and forceful “yes-men” (like Gashford), manipulate other personalities into leading such cataclysmic events? Fascinating character study here. And I love the “dreamer”/*idee fixe* notion re: Gordon. I’m reminded of Joseph Conrad’s quote in Nostromo: “A man haunted by a fixed idea is insane.”
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I’m struck by the descriptions of Barnaby and Lord George. They seem very much alike to me, though not strictly similar, both in the physical descriptions and the temperamental:
– Barnaby is of “fair height” while Gordon is of “middle height”
– Barnaby has “red hair” while Gordon’s is “reddish brown”
– Barnaby’s complexion has a “paleness” and is “wan and haggard” while Gordon’s is “sallow”
– Barnaby’s “restless looks and expression” are enhanced by “his large protruding eyes” which have a “glassy lustre” while Gordon’s “very bright large eye . . . betrayed a restlessness of thought and purpose”
– Barnaby’s “eager and unsettled manner [bespoke] the disorder of his mind, and . . . set off and heightened the more impressive wildness of his face” while Gordon’s expression “wore an air of melancholy; [and] was suggestive of an indefinable uneasiness”
– Barnaby “yield[ed] to every inconstant impulse, fluttered here and there . . . as his wayward and capricious nature prompted” while Gordon responds to Gashford’s “promptings” in an “excited manner” betraying a “rapidity” and “violence” “in which . . . something wild and ungovernable . . . broke through all restraint”
(Barnaby quotes from Ch 3 & Ch 25; Gordon quotes from Ch 35).
I’m interested to watch how the “idiot” with “a wild and vacant eye” and a “darkened intellect” (Ch 25) will stack up against the “sheer weakness” of “a nature prone to false enthusiasm, and the vanity of being a leader” (Ch 36). No doubt their weaknesses are/will be exploited by those around them, but I’m also interested to see how they, and others, will respond to that exploitation.
I love looking at the illustrations! I hope everyone takes the time to study them for they are full of information and interpretation. For example, the illustration for Ch 32 – when Chester and Edward part company – is interesting for the painting which hangs on the wall above Chester. It’s a painting of Abraham raising his dagger to sacrifice his son, Isaac – there is a ram in the bushes behind him. In the biblical story, God interrupts the sacrifice of Isaac and accepts the ram in his stead. Yet the painting above Chester shows Abraham in mid-act – God has not yet interrupted – clearly indicating Chester’s not just willingness but actually desires to sacrifice his son for his own enrichment. Further, the drawing of Edward is “cut off at the knees” – indicating that his father has “quash[ed] [his] efforts or ability to succeed with sudden, thorough, and decisive effectiveness” (idioms.thefreedictionary.com).
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Oh Chris, this is Fantastic!!! I LOVE your assessment both of the juxtaposition of Barnaby & Gordon; AND the illustrations!!!!! If you write this out on twitter, I’d love to retweet it, or can I screenshot this (with the illustration) and quote/tag you? This is so excellent!
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Ty, Rach! I’m not in a position to rewrite – please post to Twitter if you wish.
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The bad guys in this book manipulate people by stoking their fear of and anger towards Catholics. Could this part be seen as hypocritical on Dickens’s part? After all, he wanted to get readers angry about workhouses and Yorkshire schools. What do you think?
P.S.
First Quilp, then Gordon. Did Dickens have something against people with aquiline noses?
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Good question about aquiline noses! Hadn’t thought of that!
As to the other…my 2 cents is that it is more a consideration of righteous anger (towards injustice — e.g. Yorkshire schools and workhouses) versus scapegoating (whether of Catholics or anyone else) as an excuse for unbridled anger and violence towards society at large, and the innocent.
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