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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Dorrit, by Charles Dickens

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Title: Little Dorrit

Author: Charles Dickens

Release Date: July 26, 2008 [EBook #963]
Last Updated: September 25, 2016

Language: English


*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE DORRIT ***




Produced by Jo Churcher, and David Widger













LITTLE DORRIT

By Charles Dickens



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CONTENTS

PREFACE TO THE 1857 EDITION


BOOK THE FIRST: POVERTY

CHAPTER 1. Sun and Shadow

CHAPTER 2 Fellow Travellers

CHAPTER 3. Home

CHAPTER 4. Mrs Flintwinch has a Dream

CHAPTER 5. Family Affairs

CHAPTER 6. The Father of the Marshalsea

CHAPTER 7. The Child of the Marshalsea

CHAPTER 8. The Lock

CHAPTER 9. Little Mother

CHAPTER 10. Containing the whole Science of Government

CHAPTER 11. Let Loose

CHAPTER 12. Bleeding Heart Yard

CHAPTER 13. Patriarchal

CHAPTER 14. Little Dorrit’s Party

CHAPTER 15. Mrs Flintwinch has another Dream

CHAPTER 16. Nobody’s Weakness

CHAPTER 17. Nobody’s Rival

CHAPTER 18. Little Dorrit’s Lover

CHAPTER 19. The Father of the Marshalsea in two or three Relations

CHAPTER 20. Moving in Society

CHAPTER 21. Mr Merdle’s Complaint

CHAPTER 22. A Puzzle

CHAPTER 23. Machinery in Motion

CHAPTER 24. Fortune-Telling

CHAPTER 25. Conspirators and Others

CHAPTER 26. Nobody’s State of Mind

CHAPTER 27. Five-and-Twenty

CHAPTER 28. Nobody’s Disappearance

CHAPTER 29. Mrs Flintwinch goes on Dreaming

CHAPTER 30. The Word of a Gentleman

CHAPTER 31. Spirit

CHAPTER 32. More Fortune-Telling

CHAPTER 33. Mrs Merdle’s Complaint

CHAPTER 34. A Shoal of Barnacles

CHAPTER 35. What was behind Mr Pancks on Little Dorrit’s Hand

CHAPTER 36. The Marshalsea becomes an Orphan


BOOK THE SECOND: RICHES

CHAPTER 1. Fellow Travellers

CHAPTER 2. Mrs General

CHAPTER 3. On the Road

CHAPTER 4. A Letter from Little Dorrit

CHAPTER 5. Something Wrong Somewhere

CHAPTER 6. Something Right Somewhere

CHAPTER 7. Mostly, Prunes and Prism

CHAPTER 8. The Dowager Mrs Gowan is reminded that ‘It Never Does’

CHAPTER 9. Appearance and Disappearance

CHAPTER 10. The Dreams of Mrs Flintwinch thicken

CHAPTER 11. A Letter from Little Dorrit

CHAPTER 12. In which a Great Patriotic Conference is holden

CHAPTER 13. The Progress of an Epidemic

CHAPTER 14. Taking Advice

CHAPTER 15. No just Cause or Impediment why these Two Persons

CHAPTER 16. Getting on

CHAPTER 17. Missing

CHAPTER 18. A Castle in the Air

CHAPTER 19. The Storming of the Castle in the Air

CHAPTER 20. Introduces the next

CHAPTER 21. The History of a Self-Tormentor

CHAPTER 22. Who passes by this Road so late?

CHAPTER 23. Mistress Affery makes a Conditional Promise,

CHAPTER 24. The Evening of a Long Day

CHAPTER 25. The Chief Butler Resigns the Seals of Office

CHAPTER 26. Reaping the Whirlwind

CHAPTER 27. The Pupil of the Marshalsea

CHAPTER 28. An Appearance in the Marshalsea

CHAPTER 29. A Plea in the Marshalsea

CHAPTER 30. Closing in

CHAPTER 31. Closed

CHAPTER 32. Going

CHAPTER 33. Going!

CHAPTER 34. Gone








PREFACE TO THE 1857 EDITION

I have been occupied with this story, during many working hours of two years. I must have been very ill employed, if I could not leave its merits and demerits as a whole, to express themselves on its being read as a whole. But, as it is not unreasonable to suppose that I may have held its threads with a more continuous attention than anyone else can have given them during its desultory publication, it is not unreasonable to ask that the weaving may be looked at in its completed state, and with the pattern finished.

If I might offer any apology for so exaggerated a fiction as the Barnacles and the Circumlocution Office, I would seek it in the common experience of an Englishman, without presuming to mention the unimportant fact of my having done that violence to good manners, in the days of a Russian war, and of a Court of Inquiry at Chelsea. If I might make so bold as to defend that extravagant conception, Mr Merdle, I would hint that it originated after the Railroad-share epoch, in the times of a certain Irish bank, and of one or two other equally laudable enterprises. If I were to plead anything in mitigation of the preposterous fancy that a bad design will sometimes claim to be a good and an expressly religious design, it would be the curious coincidence that it has been brought to its climax in these pages, in the days of the public examination of late Directors of a Royal British Bank. But, I submit myself to suffer judgment to go by default on all these counts, if need be, and to accept the assurance (on good authority) that nothing like them was ever known in this land.

Some of my readers may have an interest in being informed whether or no any portions of the Marshalsea Prison are yet standing. I did not know, myself, until the sixth of this present month, when I went to look. I found the outer front courtyard, often mentioned here, metamorphosed into a butter shop; and I then almost gave up every brick of the jail for lost. Wandering, however, down a certain adjacent ‘Angel Court, leading to Bermondsey’, I came to ‘Marshalsea Place:’ the houses in which I recognised, not only as the great block of the former prison, but as preserving the rooms that arose in my mind’s-eye when I became Little Dorrit’s biographer. The smallest boy I ever conversed with, carrying the largest baby I ever saw, offered a supernaturally intelligent explanation of the locality in its old uses, and was very nearly correct. How this young Newton (for such I judge him to be) came by his information, I don’t know; he was a quarter of a century too young to know anything about it of himself. I pointed to the window of the room where Little Dorrit was born, and where her father lived so long, and asked him what was the name of the lodger who tenanted that apartment at present? He said, ‘Tom Pythick.’ I asked him who was Tom Pythick? and he said, ‘Joe Pythick’s uncle.’

A little further on, I found the older and smaller wall, which used to enclose the pent-up inner prison where nobody was put, except for ceremony. But, whosoever goes into Marshalsea Place, turning out of Angel Court, leading to Bermondsey, will find his feet on the very paving-stones of the extinct Marshalsea jail; will see its narrow yard to the right and to the left, very little altered if at all, except that the walls were lowered when the place got free; will look upon rooms in which the debtors lived; and will stand among the crowding ghosts of many miserable years.

In the Preface to Bleak House I remarked that I had never had so many readers. In the Preface to its next successor, Little Dorrit, I have still to repeat the same words. Deeply sensible of the affection and confidence that have grown up between us, I add to this Preface, as I added to that, May we meet again!

London May 1857








BOOK THE FIRST: POVERTY
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