David Copperfield

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I had not the least belief, in the outset of this story, that the
unknown was anything but a delusion of Mr. Dick's, and one of the
line of that ill-fated Prince who occasioned him so much
difficulty; but after some reflection I began to entertain the
question whether an attempt, or threat of an attempt, might have
been twice made to take poor Mr. Dick himself from under my aunt's
protection, and whether my aunt, the strength of whose kind feeling
towards him I knew from herself, might have been induced to pay a
price for his peace and quiet. As I was already much attached to
Mr. Dick, and very solicitous for his welfare, my fears favoured
this supposition; and for a long time his Wednesday hardly ever
came round, without my entertaining a misgiving that he would not
be on the coach-box as usual. There he always appeared, however,
grey-headed, laughing, and happy; and he never had anything more to
tell of the man who could frighten my aunt.

These Wednesdays were the happiest days of Mr. Dick's life; they
were far from being the least happy of mine. He soon became known
to every boy in the school; and though he never took an active part
in any game but kite-flying, was as deeply interested in all our
sports as anyone among us. How often have I seen him, intent upon
a match at marbles or pegtop, looking on with a face of unutterable
interest, and hardly breathing at the critical times! How often,
at hare and hounds, have I seen him mounted on a little knoll,
cheering the whole field on to action, and waving his hat above his
grey head, oblivious of King Charles the Martyr's head, and all
belonging to it! How many a summer hour have I known to be but
blissful minutes to him in the cricket-field! How many winter days
have I seen him, standing blue-nosed, in the snow and east wind,
looking at the boys going down the long slide, and clapping his
worsted gloves in rapture!

He was an universal favourite, and his ingenuity in little things
was transcendent. He could cut oranges into such devices as none
of us had an idea of. He could make a boat out of anything, from
a skewer upwards. He could turn cramp-bones into chessmen; fashion
Roman chariots from old court cards; make spoked wheels out of
cotton reels, and bird-cages of old wire. But he was greatest of
all, perhaps, in the articles of string and straw; with which we
were all persuaded he could do anything that could be done by
hands.

Mr. Dick's renown was not long confined to us. After a few
Wednesdays, Doctor Strong himself made some inquiries of me about
him, and I told him all my aunt had told me; which interested the
Doctor so much that he requested, on the occasion of his next
visit, to be presented to him. This ceremony I performed; and the
Doctor begging Mr. Dick, whensoever he should not find me at the
coach office, to come on there, and rest himself until our
morning's work was over, it soon passed into a custom for Mr. Dick
to come on as a matter of course, and, if we were a little late, as
often happened on a Wednesday, to walk about the courtyard, waiting
for me. Here he made the acquaintance of the Doctor's beautiful
young wife (paler than formerly, all this time; more rarely seen by
me or anyone, I think; and not so gay, but not less beautiful), and
so became more and more familiar by degrees, until, at last, he
would come into the school and wait. He always sat in a particular
corner, on a particular stool, which was called 'Dick', after him;
here he would sit, with his grey head bent forward, attentively
listening to whatever might be going on, with a profound veneration
for the learning he had never been able to acquire.

This veneration Mr. Dick extended to the Doctor, whom he thought
the most subtle and accomplished philosopher of any age. It was
long before Mr. Dick ever spoke to him otherwise than bareheaded;
and even when he and the Doctor had struck up quite a friendship,
and would walk together by the hour, on that side of the courtyard
which was known among us as The Doctor's Walk, Mr. Dick would pull
off his hat at intervals to show his respect for wisdom and
knowledge. How it ever came about that the Doctor began to read
out scraps of the famous Dictionary, in these walks, I never knew;
perhaps he felt it all the same, at first, as reading to himself.
However, it passed into a custom too; and Mr. Dick, listening with
a face shining with pride and pleasure, in his heart of hearts
believed the Dictionary to be the most delightful book in the
world.

As I think of them going up and down before those schoolroom
windows - the Doctor reading with his complacent smile, an
occasional flourish of the manuscript, or grave motion of his head;
and Mr. Dick listening, enchained by interest, with his poor wits
calmly wandering God knows where, upon the wings of hard words - I
think of it as one of the pleasantest things, in a quiet way, that
I have ever seen. I feel as if they might go walking to and fro
for ever, and the world might somehow be the better for it - as if
a thousand things it makes a noise about, were not one half so good
for it, or me.

Agnes was one of Mr. Dick's friends, very soon; and in often coming
to the house, he made acquaintance with Uriah. The friendship
between himself and me increased continually, and it was maintained
on this odd footing: that, while Mr. Dick came professedly to look
after me as my guardian, he always consulted me in any little
matter of doubt that arose, and invariably guided himself by my
advice; not only having a high respect for my native sagacity, but
considering that I inherited a good deal from my aunt.

One Thursday morning, when I was about to walk with Mr. Dick from
the hotel to the coach office before going back to school (for we
had an hour's school before breakfast), I met Uriah in the street,
who reminded me of the promise I had made to take tea with himself
and his mother: adding, with a writhe, 'But I didn't expect you to
keep it, Master Copperfield, we're so very umble.'

I really had not yet been able to make up my mind whether I liked
Uriah or detested him; and I was very doubtful about it still, as
I stood looking him in the face in the street. But I felt it quite
an affront to be supposed proud, and said I only wanted to be
asked.

'Oh, if that's all, Master Copperfield,' said Uriah, 'and it
really isn't our umbleness that prevents you, will you come this
evening? But if it is our umbleness, I hope you won't mind owning
to it, Master Copperfield; for we are well aware of our condition.'

I said I would mention it to Mr. Wickfield, and if he approved, as
I had no doubt he would, I would come with pleasure. So, at six
o'clock that evening, which was one of the early office evenings,
I announced myself as ready, to Uriah.

'Mother will be proud, indeed,' he said, as we walked away
together. 'Or she would be proud, if it wasn't sinful, Master
Copperfield.'

'Yet you didn't mind supposing I was proud this morning,' I
returned.

'Oh dear, no, Master Copperfield!' returned Uriah. 'Oh, believe
me, no! Such a thought never came into my head! I shouldn't have
deemed it at all proud if you had thought US too umble for you.
Because we are so very umble.'

'Have you been studying much law lately?' I asked, to change the
subject.

'Oh, Master Copperfield,' he said, with an air of self-denial, 'my
reading is hardly to be called study. I have passed an hour or two
in the evening, sometimes, with Mr. Tidd.'

'Rather hard, I suppose?' said I.
'He is hard to me sometimes,' returned Uriah. 'But I don't know
what he might be to a gifted person.'

After beating a little tune on his chin as he walked on, with the
two forefingers of his skeleton right hand, he added:

'There are expressions, you see, Master Copperfield - Latin words
and terms - in Mr. Tidd, that are trying to a reader of my umble
attainments.'

'Would you like to be taught Latin?' I said briskly. 'I will teach
it you with pleasure, as I learn it.'

'Oh, thank you, Master Copperfield,' he answered, shaking his head.
'I am sure it's very kind of you to make the offer, but I am much
too umble to accept it.'

'What nonsense, Uriah!'

'Oh, indeed you must excuse me, Master Copperfield! I am greatly
obliged, and I should like it of all things, I assure you; but I am
far too umble. There are people enough to tread upon me in my
lowly state, without my doing outrage to their feelings by
possessing learning. Learning ain't for me. A person like myself
had better not aspire. If he is to get on in life, he must get on
umbly, Master Copperfield!'

I never saw his mouth so wide, or the creases in his cheeks so
deep, as when he delivered himself of these sentiments: shaking his
head all the time, and writhing modestly.

'I think you are wrong, Uriah,' I said. 'I dare say there are
several things that I could teach you, if you would like to learn
them.'

'Oh, I don't doubt that, Master Copperfield,' he answered; 'not in
the least. But not being umble yourself, you don't judge well,
perhaps, for them that are. I won't provoke my betters with
knowledge, thank you. I'm much too umble. Here is my umble
dwelling, Master Copperfield!'

We entered a low, old-fashioned room, walked straight into from the
street, and found there Mrs. Heep, who was the dead image of Uriah,
only short. She received me with the utmost humility, and
apologized to me for giving her son a kiss, observing that, lowly
as they were, they had their natural affections, which they hoped
would give no offence to anyone. It was a perfectly decent room,
half parlour and half kitchen, but not at all a snug room. The
tea-things were set upon the table, and the kettle was boiling on
the hob. There was a chest of drawers with an escritoire top, for
Uriah to read or write at of an evening; there was Uriah's blue bag
lying down and vomiting papers; there was a company of Uriah's
books commanded by Mr. Tidd; there was a corner cupboard: and there
were the usual articles of furniture. I don't remember that any
individual object had a bare, pinched, spare look; but I do
remember that the whole place had.

It was perhaps a part of Mrs. Heep's humility, that she still wore
weeds. Notwithstanding the lapse of time that had occurred since
Mr. Heep's decease, she still wore weeds. I think there was some
compromise in the cap; but otherwise she was as weedy as in the
early days of her mourning.

'This is a day to be remembered, my Uriah, I am sure,' said Mrs.
Heep, making the tea, 'when Master Copperfield pays us a visit.'

'I said you'd think so, mother,' said Uriah.

'If I could have wished father to remain among us for any reason,'
said Mrs. Heep, 'it would have been, that he might have known his
company this afternoon.'

I felt embarrassed by these compliments; but I was sensible, too,
of being entertained as an honoured guest, and I thought Mrs. Heep
an agreeable woman.

'My Uriah,' said Mrs. Heep, 'has looked forward to this, sir, a
long while. He had his fears that our umbleness stood in the way,
and I joined in them myself. Umble we are, umble we have been,
umble we shall ever be,' said Mrs. Heep.

'I am sure you have no occasion to be so, ma'am,' I said, 'unless
you like.'

'Thank you, sir,' retorted Mrs. Heep. 'We know our station and are
thankful in it.'

I found that Mrs. Heep gradually got nearer to me, and that Uriah
gradually got opposite to me, and that they respectfully plied me
with the choicest of the eatables on the table. There was nothing
particularly choice there, to be sure; but I took the will for the
deed, and felt that they were very attentive. Presently they began
to talk about aunts, and then I told them about mine; and about
fathers and mothers, and then I told them about mine; and then Mrs.
Heep began to talk about fathers-in-law, and then I began to tell
her about mine - but stopped, because my aunt had advised me to
observe a silence on that subject. A tender young cork, however,
would have had no more chance against a pair of corkscrews, or a
tender young tooth against a pair of dentists, or a little
shuttlecock against two battledores, than I had against Uriah and
Mrs. Heep. They did just what they liked with me; and wormed
things out of me that I had no desire to tell, with a certainty I
blush to think of, the more especially, as in my juvenile
frankness, I took some credit to myself for being so confidential
and felt that I was quite the patron of my two respectful
entertainers.

They were very fond of one another: that was certain. I take it,
that had its effect upon me, as a touch of nature; but the skill
with which the one followed up whatever the other said, was a touch
of art which I was still less proof against. When there was
nothing more to be got out of me about myself (for on the Murdstone
and Grinby life, and on my journey, I was dumb), they began about
Mr. Wickfield and Agnes. Uriah threw the ball to Mrs. Heep, Mrs.
Heep caught it and threw it back to Uriah, Uriah kept it up a
little while, then sent it back to Mrs. Heep, and so they went on
tossing it about until I had no idea who had got it, and was quite
bewildered. The ball itself was always changing too. Now it was
Mr. Wickfield, now Agnes, now the excellence of Mr. Wickfield, now
my admiration of Agnes; now the extent of Mr. Wickfield's business
and resources, now our domestic life after dinner; now, the wine
that Mr. Wickfield took, the reason why he took it, and the pity
that it was he took so much; now one thing, now another, then
everything at once; and all the time, without appearing to speak
very often, or to do anything but sometimes encourage them a
little, for fear they should be overcome by their humility and the
honour of my company, I found myself perpetually letting out
something or other that I had no business to let out and seeing the
effect of it in the twinkling of Uriah's dinted nostrils.

I had begun to be a little uncomfortable, and to wish myself well
out of the visit, when a figure coming down the street passed the
door - it stood open to air the room, which was warm, the weather
being close for the time of year - came back again, looked in, and
walked in, exclaiming loudly, 'Copperfield! Is it possible?'

It was Mr. Micawber! It was Mr. Micawber, with his eye-glass, and
his walking-stick, and his shirt-collar, and his genteel air, and
the condescending roll in his voice, all complete!

'My dear Copperfield,' said Mr. Micawber, putting out his hand,
'this is indeed a meeting which is calculated to impress the mind
with a sense of the instability and uncertainty of all human - in
short, it is a most extraordinary meeting. Walking along the
street, reflecting upon the probability of something turning up (of
which I am at present rather sanguine), I find a young but valued
friend turn up, who is connected with the most eventful period of
my life; I may say, with the turning-point of my existence.
Copperfield, my dear fellow, how do you do?'

I cannot say - I really cannot say - that I was glad to see Mr.
Micawber there; but I was glad to see him too, and shook hands with
him, heartily, inquiring how Mrs. Micawber was.

'Thank you,' said Mr. Micawber, waving his hand as of old, and
settling his chin in his shirt-collar. 'She is tolerably
convalescent. The twins no longer derive their sustenance from
Nature's founts - in short,' said Mr. Micawber, in one of his
bursts of confidence, 'they are weaned - and Mrs. Micawber is, at
present, my travelling companion. She will be rejoiced,
Copperfield, to renew her acquaintance with one who has proved
himself in all respects a worthy minister at the sacred altar of
friendship.'

I said I should be delighted to see her.

'You are very good,' said Mr. Micawber.

Mr. Micawber then smiled, settled his chin again, and looked about
him.

'I have discovered my friend Copperfield,' said Mr. Micawber
genteelly, and without addressing himself particularly to anyone,
'not in solitude, but partaking of a social meal in company with a
widow lady, and one who is apparently her offspring - in short,'
said Mr. Micawber, in another of his bursts of confidence, 'her
son. I shall esteem it an honour to be presented.'

I could do no less, under these circumstances, than make Mr.
Micawber known to Uriah Heep and his mother; which I accordingly
did. As they abased themselves before him, Mr. Micawber took a
seat, and waved his hand in his most courtly manner.

'Any friend of my friend Copperfield's,' said Mr. Micawber, 'has a
personal claim upon myself.'

'We are too umble, sir,' said Mrs. Heep, 'my son and me, to be the
friends of Master Copperfield. He has been so good as take his tea
with us, and we are thankful to him for his company, also to you,
sir, for your notice.'

'Ma'am,' returned Mr. Micawber, with a bow, 'you are very obliging:
and what are you doing, Copperfield? Still in the wine trade?'

I was excessively anxious to get Mr. Micawber away; and replied,
with my hat in my hand, and a very red face, I have no doubt, that
I was a pupil at Doctor Strong's.

'A pupil?' said Mr. Micawber, raising his eyebrows. 'I am
extremely happy to hear it. Although a mind like my friend
Copperfield's' - to Uriah and Mrs. Heep - 'does not require that
cultivation which, without his knowledge of men and things, it
would require, still it is a rich soil teeming with latent
vegetation - in short,' said Mr. Micawber, smiling, in another
burst of confidence, 'it is an intellect capable of getting up the
classics to any extent.'

Uriah, with his long hands slowly twining over one another, made a
ghastly writhe from the waist upwards, to express his concurrence
in this estimation of me.

'Shall we go and see Mrs. Micawber, sir?' I said, to get Mr.
Micawber away.

'If you will do her that favour, Copperfield,' replied Mr.
Micawber, rising. 'I have no scruple in saying, in the presence of
our friends here, that I am a man who has, for some years,
contended against the pressure of pecuniary difficulties.' I knew
he was certain to say something of this kind; he always would be so
boastful about his difficulties. 'Sometimes I have risen superior
to my difficulties. Sometimes my difficulties have - in short,
have floored me. There have been times when I have administered a
succession of facers to them; there have been times when they have
been too many for me, and I have given in, and said to Mrs.
Micawber, in the words of Cato, "Plato, thou reasonest well. It's
all up now. I can show fight no more." But at no time of my life,'
said Mr. Micawber, 'have I enjoyed a higher degree of satisfaction
than in pouring my griefs (if I may describe difficulties, chiefly
arising out of warrants of attorney and promissory notes at two and
four months, by that word) into the bosom of my friend
Copperfield.'

Mr. Micawber closed this handsome tribute by saying, 'Mr. Heep!
Good evening. Mrs. Heep! Your servant,' and then walking out with
me in his most fashionable manner, making a good deal of noise on
the pavement with his shoes, and humming a tune as we went.

It was a little inn where Mr. Micawber put up, and he occupied a
little room in it, partitioned off from the commercial room, and
strongly flavoured with tobacco-smoke. I think it was over the
kitchen, because a warm greasy smell appeared to come up through
the chinks in the floor, and there was a flabby perspiration on the
walls. I know it was near the bar, on account of the smell of
spirits and jingling of glasses. Here, recumbent on a small sofa,
underneath a picture of a race-horse, with her head close to the
fire, and her feet pushing the mustard off the dumb-waiter at the
other end of the room, was Mrs. Micawber, to whom Mr. Micawber
entered first, saying, 'My dear, allow me to introduce to you a
pupil of Doctor Strong's.'

I noticed, by the by, that although Mr. Micawber was just as much
confused as ever about my age and standing, he always remembered,
as a genteel thing, that I was a pupil of Doctor Strong's.

Mrs. Micawber was amazed, but very glad to see me. I was very glad
to see her too, and, after an affectionate greeting on both sides,
sat down on the small sofa near her.

'My dear,' said Mr. Micawber, 'if you will mention to Copperfield
what our present position is, which I have no doubt he will like to
know, I will go and look at the paper the while, and see whether
anything turns up among the advertisements.'

'I thought you were at Plymouth, ma'am,' I said to Mrs. Micawber,
as he went out.

'My dear Master Copperfield,' she replied, 'we went to Plymouth.'

'To be on the spot,' I hinted.

'Just so,' said Mrs. Micawber. 'To be on the spot. But, the truth
is, talent is not wanted in the Custom House. The local influence
of my family was quite unavailing to obtain any employment in that
department, for a man of Mr. Micawber's abilities. They would
rather NOT have a man of Mr. Micawber's abilities. He would only
show the deficiency of the others. Apart from which,' said Mrs.
Micawber, 'I will not disguise from you, my dear Master
Copperfield, that when that branch of my family which is settled in
Plymouth, became aware that Mr. Micawber was accompanied by myself,
and by little Wilkins and his sister, and by the twins, they did
not receive him with that ardour which he might have expected,
being so newly released from captivity. In fact,' said Mrs.
Micawber, lowering her voice, - 'this is between ourselves - our
reception was cool.'

'Dear me!' I said.

'Yes,' said Mrs. Micawber. 'It is truly painful to contemplate
mankind in such an aspect, Master Copperfield, but our reception
was, decidedly, cool. There is no doubt about it. In fact, that
branch of my family which is settled in Plymouth became quite
personal to Mr. Micawber, before we had been there a week.'

I said, and thought, that they ought to be ashamed of themselves.

'Still, so it was,' continued Mrs. Micawber. 'Under such
circumstances, what could a man of Mr. Micawber's spirit do? But
one obvious course was left. To borrow, of that branch of my
family, the money to return to London, and to return at any
sacrifice.'

'Then you all came back again, ma'am?' I said.

'We all came back again,' replied Mrs. Micawber. 'Since then, I
have consulted other branches of my family on the course which it
is most expedient for Mr. Micawber to take - for I maintain that he
must take some course, Master Copperfield,' said Mrs. Micawber,
argumentatively. 'It is clear that a family of six, not including
a domestic, cannot live upon air.'

'Certainly, ma'am,' said I.

'The opinion of those other branches of my family,' pursued Mrs.
Micawber, 'is, that Mr. Micawber should immediately turn his
attention to coals.'

'To what, ma'am?'

'To coals,' said Mrs. Micawber. 'To the coal trade. Mr. Micawber
was induced to think, on inquiry, that there might be an opening
for a man of his talent in the Medway Coal Trade. Then, as Mr.
Micawber very properly said, the first step to be taken clearly
was, to come and see the Medway. Which we came and saw. I say
"we", Master Copperfield; for I never will,' said Mrs. Micawber
with emotion, 'I never will desert Mr. Micawber.'

I murmured my admiration and approbation.

'We came,' repeated Mrs. Micawber, 'and saw the Medway. My opinion
of the coal trade on that river is, that it may require talent, but
that it certainly requires capital. Talent, Mr. Micawber has;
capital, Mr. Micawber has not. We saw, I think, the greater part
of the Medway; and that is my individual conclusion. Being so near
here, Mr. Micawber was of opinion that it would be rash not to come
on, and see the Cathedral. Firstly, on account of its being so
well worth seeing, and our never having seen it; and secondly, on
account of the great probability of something turning up in a
cathedral town. We have been here,' said Mrs. Micawber, 'three
days. Nothing has, as yet, turned up; and it may not surprise you,
my dear Master Copperfield, so much as it would a stranger, to know
that we are at present waiting for a remittance from London, to
discharge our pecuniary obligations at this hotel. Until the
arrival of that remittance,' said Mrs. Micawber with much feeling,
'I am cut off from my home (I allude to lodgings in Pentonville),
from my boy and girl, and from my twins.'

I felt the utmost sympathy for Mr. and Mrs. Micawber in this
anxious extremity, and said as much to Mr. Micawber, who now
returned: adding that I only wished I had money enough, to lend
them the amount they needed. Mr. Micawber's answer expressed the
disturbance of his mind. He said, shaking hands with me,
'Copperfield, you are a true friend; but when the worst comes to
the worst, no man is without a friend who is possessed of shaving
materials.' At this dreadful hint Mrs. Micawber threw her arms
round Mr. Micawber's neck and entreated him to be calm. He wept;
but so far recovered, almost immediately, as to ring the bell for
the waiter, and bespeak a hot kidney pudding and a plate of shrimps
for breakfast in the morning.