Osgood thought about Dickens's popularity. People had gone to church to pray for Little Nell, they had cried for Paul Dombey as though for their own son, they had cheered -- how they cheered at Tremont Temple -- when Tiny Tim was saved. His books became real for everyone who read them, whether the humble laborer in the Strand or the patrician in Mayfair. That is why even those who never in their life read any novels, would read his. (pp. 135-6)
We're back in 1870 with Rebecca and Osgood as they arrive in England. Here we meet Dickens's sister-in-law Georgy (sweet and likable), his daughter Mamie (sweet and likable), and his friend and biographer-to-be John Forster (snotty, jealous, sexist, and curmudgeonly. But still somehow likable. I'm not sure I'm supposed to like him, but he's such a hoot I can't help it. This is what comes of too many viewings of House, I suppose). Later on we meet Mamie's married sister Katie, an incessant flirt with something of Fanny Dorrit about her.
While the ladies of Gadshill are selling things and closing up the house -- there not being enough money for them to stay on -- the Americans are exploring every corner of the estate and running around London to try to pick up clues about Drood. Along the way we see a bit of Dickens's will, which directs that he be buried humbly, and a description of his grave, which is not at all humble, thanks to Forster -- so add "disrespectful of the wishes of the dead" to Forster's other less-than-sterling qualities. We also learn about Dickens's practice of mesmerism, which sounds like it didn't go very well, when servant Henry Scott tells the story of a local man who was treated by Dickens: "'One of the cooks told me that the farmer's illness was better, but his mental condition had become feeble during those mesmerism sessions." (Page 161) And eventually we find out that "feeble" is far too weak a word for it. Interesting. I wonder if these ill-conceived experiments will play any further part in the narrative. . . .
Comments