Dickens uses personification and metaphor in Chapter 46 to highlight the grimness and filth of the tenement street of Tom-All-Alone's. Every foul aspect of the place seethes with evil, taking on human characteristics that present it as an enemy to humanity, the moon, and life itself:
Darkness rests upon Tom-all-Alone’s [...] For a time there were some dungeon lights burning, as the lamp of Life burns in Tom-all-Alone’s, heavily, heavily, in the nauseous air, and winking – as that lamp, too, winks in Tom-all-Alone’s – at many horrible things.
As twilight covers the slum, the street-lamps meant to light the road are revealed to be no more than "dungeon lamps" for the people socially imprisoned there. The "Lamp of life" struggles to continue burning in the "nauseous air" of Tom-All-Alone's. The light of this "Lamp" is a metaphor for the human spirit, as it requires tending, safety, and nourishment in order to keep "burning." Through this metaphor, the narrator implies that it's hard to survive in the fetid slum. It is a place that actively hates life and wants to extinguish joy. The nastiness of the place makes the Lamp of life "wink" (stutter and falter, almost letting the darkness win) just as the "heavily, heavily" polluted air challenges the flames of the real lamps.
Even the moon declines to shine properly on the crumbling tenement houses. On the same page, Dickens personifies the moon, casting it as a character capable of judgement who can decide where to "admit" her light:
The moon has eyed Tom with a dull cold stare, as admitting some puny emulation of herself in his desert region unfit for life and blasted by volcanic fires; but she has passed on, and is gone. The blackest nightmare in the infernal stables grazes on Tom-all-Alone’s, and Tom is fast asleep.
Personification occurs in several places in this passage, stacking on itself to describe the nightmarish scene and invest it with even more horror than it would otherwise have. The moon's light, like the "Lamp of life," gutters and struggles in the "desert region unfit for life" of the slum. "She" stops shining on Tom-All-Alone's eventually, as having "eyed [him] with a dull cold stare," she sees there is no point in continuing to try to light "his" darkness. The atmosphere of the slum, thus abandoned by the moon, is depicted as being food for the "blackest nightmare in the eternal stables." It's literally and metaphorically a hellscape where "darkness"—both visual and psychological—reigns.
The slum itself has also become personified by this point in the novel. "Tom-All-Alone" is a hideous and powerful force, whose sole desire is to spread disease and suffering as "he" expands his borders. These chilling descriptions of tenement housing do two things: through them, Dickens is making a political criticism of the harrowing conditions of life for London's poorest citizens. However, he also demonstrates how the more well-off residents of London might view people who live in these neighborhoods. In personifying Tom-All-Alone's in this way, Dickens implicitly removes the humanity from its impoverished residents, at least as other Londoners regard them.
In Chapter 58, Dickens personifies "Rumour" as a voracious little gossip, fluttering around London spreading misinformation about the situation of the Dedlock family. The narrator's voice takes on both the perspective and the confiding tone of this personified "Rumour" to "spread" the news to the reader:
Rumour, busy overmuch, however, will not go down into Lincolnshire. It persists in flitting and chattering about town. It knows that that poor unfortunate man, Sir Leicester, has been sadly used. It hears, my dear child, all sorts of shocking things. It makes the world of five miles round, quite merry. Not to know that there is something wrong at the Dedlocks’ is to augur yourself unknown.
Dickens suggests the importance of hearsay to polite society with the endless presence of "Rumour." It gets everywhere, seems to know everything, and disregards reality in favor of spreading its much more interesting and sensational gossip. Cruel gossip, Dickens implies, is endlessly energetic and flexible. People don't need to "go down to Lincolnshire" to learn the actual truth of the Dedlock's situation, as that doesn't matter. "Rumour" can continue "flitting and chattering" without any facts whatsoever. The narrator's sickly, confiding tone in this passage also emphasizes how unpleasant this personified gossip is. It draws the reader closer, actually entering the first person—"my dear child"—as it salaciously recounts the "shocking things" it has heard.
The threat of not knowing things for Dickens's characters is emphasized by this personification of "Rumour." Dickens elegantly outlines a kind of voracious 19th century fear of not being included in this short passage, where "not to know something is wrong at the Dedlocks'" is potentially disastrous. In Bleak House knowledge of social affairs seem exaggeratedly valuable, a necessity for survival. To be out of the loop is to "augur" (predict a future) in which one is unknown. This is a terrifying prospect for some characters. Even though people know that "Rumour" is cruel and salacious, they hungrily participate in destructive gossip in order to remain socially relevant themselves.
