There had been, he admitted, a trivial blemish or so in its rate of progress, but this was exaggerated, and had been entirely owing to the ‘parsimony of the public’; which guilty public, it appeared, had been until lately bent in the most determined manner on by no means enlarging the number of Chancery Judges appointed—I believe by Richard the Second,1 but any other King will do as well.

This seemed to me too profound a joke to be inserted in the body of this book, or I should have restored it to Conversation Kenge or to Mr. Vholes, with one or other of whom I think it must have originated. In such mouths I might have coupled it with an apt quotation from one of SHAKESPEARE’S Sonnets:

My nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer’s hand: Pity me then, and wish I were renew‘d! 2

But as it is wholesome that the parsimonious public should know what has been doing, and still is doing, in this connexion, I mention here that everything set forth in these pages concerning the Court of Chancery is substantially true, and within the truth. The case of Gridley is in no essential altered from one of actual occurrence, made public by a disinterested person who was professionally acquainted with the whole of the monstrous wrong from beginning to end.3 At the present momentb there is a suit before the Court which was commenced nearly twenty years ago; in which from thirty to forty counsel have been known to appear at one time; in which costs have been incurred to the amount of seventy thousand pounds; which is a friendly suit; and which is (I am assured) no nearer to its termination now than when it was begun.4 There is another well-known suit in Chancery, not yet decided, which was commenced before the close of the last century, and in which more than double the amount of seventy thousand pounds has been swallowed up in costs.5 If I wanted other authorities for JARNDYCE AND JARNDYCE, I could rain them on these pages, to the shame of—a parsimonious public.

There is only one other point on which I offer a word of remark. The possibility of what is called Spontaneous Combustion6 has been denied since the death of Mr. Krook; and my good friend MR. LEWES7 (quite mistaken, as he soon found, in supposing the thing to have been abandoned by all authorities) published some ingenious letters to me at the time when that event was chronicled, arguing that Spontaneous Combustion could not possibly be. I have no need to observe that I do not wilfully or negligently mislead my readers, and that before I wrote that description I took pains to investigate the subject. There are about thirty cases on record, of which the most famous, that of the Countess Cornelia de Bandi Cesenate, was minutely investigated and described by Giuseppe Bianchini, a prebendaryc of Verona, otherwise distinguished in letters, who published an account of it at Verona, in 1731, which he afterwards republished at Rome. The appearances beyond all rational doubt observed in that case, are the appearances observed in Mr. Krook’s case. The next most famous instance happened at Rheims, six years earlier; and the historian in that case is LE CAT, one of the most renowned surgeons produced by France. The subject was a woman, whose husband was ignorantly convicted of having murdered her; but, on solemn appeal to a higher court, he was acquitted, because it was shown upon the evidence that she had died the death to which this name of Spontaneous Combustion is given. I do not think it necessary to add to these notable facts, and that general reference to the authorities which will be found at page 534,d the recorded opinions and experiences of distinguished medical professors, French, English, and Scotch, in more modern days; contenting myself with observing, that I shall not abandon the facts until there shall have been a considerable Spontaneous Combustion of the testimony on which human occurrences are usually received.

In Bleak House, I have purposely dwelt upon the romantic side of familiar things.8 I believe I have never had so many readers as in this book. May we meet again!

CHARACTERS

MR. BAYHAM BADGER, a medical practitioner in London.


MATTHEW BAGNET (‘Lignum Vitae’), an ex-artilleryman and bassoon-player.


WOOLWICH BAGNET, his son.


LAWRENCE BOYTHORN, the impetuous, hearty friend of Mr. Jarndyce.


MR. INSPECTOR BUCKET, a sagacious, indefatigable detective officer.


RIGHT HON. WILLIAM BUFFEY, M.P., a friend of Sir Leicester Dedlock’s.


RICHARD CARSTONE, a ward of Mr. Jarndyce, and a suitor in Chancery.


THE REV. MR. CHADBAND, a large, greasy, self-satisfied man, of no particular denomination.


SIR LEICESTER DEDLOCK, a representative of one of the great county families.


MR. GRIDLEY (‘The Man from Shropshire’), a ruined suitor in Chancery.


WILLIAM GUPPY, a lawyer’s clerk, in the employ of Kenge and Carboy.


CAPTAIN HAWDON (‘Nemo’), a military officer; afterwards a law-writer.


JOHN JARNDYCE, a handsome, upright, unmarried man of about sixty; the guardian of Richard Carstone and Ada Clare.


MR. JELLYBY, the mild, quiet husband of Mrs. Jellyby.


‘PEEPY’ JELLYBY, the neglected and unfortunate son of the preceding.


Jo (‘Toughey’), a street-crossing sweeper.


TONY JOBLING (‘Weevle’), a law-writer, and a friend of Mr. Guppy’s.


MR. KENGE (‘Conversation Kenge’), a portly, important-looking person; senior member of Kenge and Carboy, solicitors.


MR. KROOK, a marine-store dealer; an old and eccentric man.


MERCURY, a footman in the service of Sir Leicester Dedlock.


MR. ROUNCEWELL, an ironmaster; the son of Sir Leicester Dedlock’s housekeeper.


GEORGE ROUNCEWELL (‘MR. GEORGE’), another son; a wild young lad, who enlists; afterwards keeper of a shooting gallery.


WATT ROUNCEWELL, the grandson of Mrs.