DAVID
COPPERFIELD
PART 36
CHAPTER 36. ENTHUSIASM
I began
the next day with another dive into the Roman bath, and then started for
Highgate. I was not dispirited now. I was not afraid of the shabby coat, and
had no yearnings after gallant greys. My whole manner of thinking of our late
misfortune was changed. What I had to do, was, to show my aunt that her past
goodness to me had not been thrown away on an insensible, ungrateful object.
What I had to do, was, to turn the painful discipline of my younger days to
account, by going to work with a resolute and steady heart. What I had to do,
was, to take my woodman's axe in my hand, and clear my own way through the
forest of difficulty, by cutting down the trees until I came to Dora. And I
went on at a mighty rate, as if it could be done by walking.
When I
found myself on the familiar Highgate road, pursuing such a different errand
from that old one of pleasure, with which it was associated, it seemed as if a
complete change had come on my whole life. But that did not discourage me. With
the new life, came new purpose, new intention. Great was the labour; priceless
the reward. Dora was the reward, and Dora must be won.
I got
into such a transport, that I felt quite sorry my coat was not a little shabby
already. I wanted to be cutting at those trees in the forest of difficulty,
under circumstances that should prove my strength. I had a good mind to ask an
old man, in wire spectacles, who was breaking stones upon the road, to lend me
his hammer for a little while, and let me begin to beat a path to Dora out of granite.
I stimulated myself into such a heat, and got so out of breath, that I felt as
if I had been earning I don't know how much.
In this
state, I went into a cottage that I saw was to let, and examined it
narrowly,—for I felt it necessary to be practical. It would do for me and Dora
admirably: with a little front garden for Jip to run about in, and bark at the
tradespeople through the railings, and a capital room upstairs for my aunt. I
came out again, hotter and faster than ever, and dashed up to Highgate, at such
a rate that I was there an hour too early; and, though I had not been, should
have been obliged to stroll about to cool myself, before I was at all
presentable.
My first
care, after putting myself under this necessary course of preparation, was to
find the Doctor's house. It was not in that part of Highgate where Mrs.
Steerforth lived, but quite on the opposite side of the little town. When I had
made this discovery, I went back, in an attraction I could not resist, to a
lane by Mrs. Steerforth's, and looked over the corner of the garden wall. His
room was shut up close. The conservatory doors were standing open, and Rosa
Dartle was walking, bareheaded, with a quick, impetuous step, up and down a
gravel walk on one side of the lawn. She gave me the idea of some fierce thing,
that was dragging the length of its chain to and fro upon a beaten track, and
wearing its heart out.
I came
softly away from my place of observation, and avoiding that part of the
neighbourhood, and wishing I had not gone near it, strolled about until it was
ten o'clock. The church with the slender spire, that stands on the top of the
hill now, was not there then to tell me the time. An old red-brick mansion,
used as a school, was in its place; and a fine old house it must have been to
go to school at, as I recollect it.
When I
approached the Doctor's cottage—a pretty old place, on which he seemed to have
expended some money, if I might judge from the embellishments and repairs that
had the look of being just completed—I saw him walking in the garden at the
side, gaiters and all, as if he had never left off walking since the days of my
pupilage. He had his old companions about him, too; for there were plenty of
high trees in the neighbourhood, and two or three rooks were on the grass,
looking after him, as if they had been written to about him by the Canterbury
rooks, and were observing him closely in consequence.
Knowing
the utter hopelessness of attracting his attention from that distance, I made
bold to open the gate, and walk after him, so as to meet him when he should
turn round. When he did, and came towards me, he looked at me thoughtfully for
a few moments, evidently without thinking about me at all; and then his
benevolent face expressed extraordinary pleasure, and he took me by both hands.
'Why, my
dear Copperfield,' said the Doctor, 'you are a man! How do you do? I am
delighted to see you. My dear Copperfield, how very much you have improved! You
are quite—yes—dear me!'
I hoped
he was well, and Mrs. Strong too.
'Oh dear,
yes!' said the Doctor; 'Annie's quite well, and she'll be delighted to see you.
You were always her favourite. She said so, last night, when I showed her your
letter. And—yes, to be sure—you recollect Mr. Jack Maldon, Copperfield?'
'Perfectly,
sir.'
'Of
course,' said the Doctor. 'To be sure. He's pretty well, too.'
'Has he
come home, sir?' I inquired.
'From
India?' said the Doctor. 'Yes. Mr. Jack Maldon couldn't bear the climate, my
dear. Mrs. Markleham—you have not forgotten Mrs. Markleham?'
Forgotten
the Old Soldier! And in that short time!
'Mrs.
Markleham,' said the Doctor, 'was quite vexed about him, poor thing; so we have
got him at home again; and we have bought him a little Patent place, which
agrees with him much better.' I knew enough of Mr. Jack Maldon to suspect from
this account that it was a place where there was not much to do, and which was
pretty well paid. The Doctor, walking up and down with his hand on my shoulder,
and his kind face turned encouragingly to mine, went on:
'Now, my
dear Copperfield, in reference to this proposal of yours. It's very gratifying
and agreeable to me, I am sure; but don't you think you could do better? You
achieved distinction, you know, when you were with us. You are qualified for
many good things. You have laid a foundation that any edifice may be raised
upon; and is it not a pity that you should devote the spring-time of your life
to such a poor pursuit as I can offer?'
I became
very glowing again, and, expressing myself in a rhapsodical style, I am afraid,
urged my request strongly; reminding the Doctor that I had already a
profession.
'Well,
well,' said the Doctor, 'that's true. Certainly, your having a profession, and
being actually engaged in studying it, makes a difference. But, my good young
friend, what's seventy pounds a year?'
'It
doubles our income, Doctor Strong,' said I.
'Dear
me!' replied the Doctor. 'To think of that! Not that I mean to say it's rigidly
limited to seventy pounds a-year, because I have always contemplated making any
young friend I might thus employ, a present too. Undoubtedly,' said the Doctor,
still walking me up and down with his hand on my shoulder. 'I have always taken
an annual present into account.'
'My dear
tutor,' said I (now, really, without any nonsense), 'to whom I owe more
obligations already than I ever can acknowledge—'
'No, no,'
interposed the Doctor. 'Pardon me!'
'If you
will take such time as I have, and that is my mornings and evenings, and can
think it worth seventy pounds a year, you will do me such a service as I cannot
express.'
'Dear
me!' said the Doctor, innocently. 'To think that so little should go for so
much! Dear, dear! And when you can do better, you will? On your word, now?'
said the Doctor,—which he had always made a very grave appeal to the honour of
us boys.
'On my
word, sir!' I returned, answering in our old school manner.
'Then be
it so,' said the Doctor, clapping me on the shoulder, and still keeping his
hand there, as we still walked up and down.
'And I
shall be twenty times happier, sir,' said I, with a little—I hope
innocent—flattery, 'if my employment is to be on the Dictionary.'
The
Doctor stopped, smilingly clapped me on the shoulder again, and exclaimed, with
a triumph most delightful to behold, as if I had penetrated to the profoundest
depths of mortal sagacity, 'My dear young friend, you have hit it. It IS the Dictionary!'
How could
it be anything else! His pockets were as full of it as his head. It was
sticking out of him in all directions. He told me that since his retirement
from scholastic life, he had been advancing with it wonderfully; and that
nothing could suit him better than the proposed arrangements for morning and
evening work, as it was his custom to walk about in the daytime with his
considering cap on. His papers were in a little confusion, in consequence of
Mr. Jack Maldon having lately proffered his occasional services as an
amanuensis, and not being accustomed to that occupation; but we should soon put
right what was amiss, and go on swimmingly. Afterwards, when we were fairly at
our work, I found Mr. Jack Maldon's efforts more troublesome to me than I had
expected, as he had not confined himself to making numerous mistakes, but had
sketched so many soldiers, and ladies' heads, over the Doctor's manuscript,
that I often became involved in labyrinths of obscurity.
The
Doctor was quite happy in the prospect of our going to work together on that
wonderful performance, and we settled to begin next morning at seven o'clock.
We were to work two hours every morning, and two or three hours every night,
except on Saturdays, when I was to rest. On Sundays, of course, I was to rest
also, and I considered these very easy terms.
Our plans
being thus arranged to our mutual satisfaction, the Doctor took me into the
house to present me to Mrs. Strong, whom we found in the Doctor's new study,
dusting his books,—a freedom which he never permitted anybody else to take with
those sacred favourites.
They had
postponed their breakfast on my account, and we sat down to table together. We
had not been seated long, when I saw an approaching arrival in Mrs. Strong's face,
before I heard any sound of it. A gentleman on horseback came to the gate, and
leading his horse into the little court, with the bridle over his arm, as if he
were quite at home, tied him to a ring in the empty coach-house wall, and came
into the breakfast parlour, whip in hand. It was Mr. Jack Maldon; and Mr. Jack
Maldon was not at all improved by India, I thought. I was in a state of
ferocious virtue, however, as to young men who were not cutting down trees in
the forest of difficulty; and my impression must be received with due
allowance.
'Mr.
Jack!' said the Doctor. 'Copperfield!'
Mr. Jack
Maldon shook hands with me; but not very warmly, I believed; and with an air of
languid patronage, at which I secretly took great umbrage. But his languor altogether
was quite a wonderful sight; except when he addressed himself to his cousin
Annie. 'Have you breakfasted this morning, Mr. Jack?' said the Doctor.
'I hardly
ever take breakfast, sir,' he replied, with his head thrown back in an
easy-chair. 'I find it bores me.'
'Is there
any news today?' inquired the Doctor.
'Nothing
at all, sir,' replied Mr. Maldon. 'There's an account about the people being
hungry and discontented down in the North, but they are always being hungry and
discontented somewhere.'
The
Doctor looked grave, and said, as though he wished to change the subject, 'Then
there's no news at all; and no news, they say, is good news.'
'There's
a long statement in the papers, sir, about a murder,' observed Mr. Maldon. 'But
somebody is always being murdered, and I didn't read it.'
A display
of indifference to all the actions and passions of mankind was not supposed to
be such a distinguished quality at that time, I think, as I have observed it to
be considered since. I have known it very fashionable indeed. I have seen it
displayed with such success, that I have encountered some fine ladies and
gentlemen who might as well have been born caterpillars. Perhaps it impressed
me the more then, because it was new to me, but it certainly did not tend to
exalt my opinion of, or to strengthen my confidence in, Mr. Jack Maldon.
'I came
out to inquire whether Annie would like to go to the opera tonight,' said Mr.
Maldon, turning to her. 'It's the last good night there will be, this season;
and there's a singer there, whom she really ought to hear. She is perfectly exquisite.
Besides which, she is so charmingly ugly,' relapsing into languor.
The
Doctor, ever pleased with what was likely to please his young wife, turned to
her and said:
'You must
go, Annie. You must go.'
'I would
rather not,' she said to the Doctor. 'I prefer to remain at home. I would much
rather remain at home.'
Without
looking at her cousin, she then addressed me, and asked me about Agnes, and
whether she should see her, and whether she was not likely to come that day;
and was so much disturbed, that I wondered how even the Doctor, buttering his
toast, could be blind to what was so obvious.
But he
saw nothing. He told her, good-naturedly, that she was young and ought to be
amused and entertained, and must not allow herself to be made dull by a dull
old fellow. Moreover, he said, he wanted to hear her sing all the new singer's
songs to him; and how could she do that well, unless she went? So the Doctor
persisted in making the engagement for her, and Mr. Jack Maldon was to come
back to dinner. This concluded, he went to his Patent place, I suppose; but at
all events went away on his horse, looking very idle.
I was
curious to find out next morning, whether she had been. She had not, but had
sent into London to put her cousin off; and had gone out in the afternoon to
see Agnes, and had prevailed upon the Doctor to go with her; and they had
walked home by the fields, the Doctor told me, the evening being delightful. I
wondered then, whether she would have gone if Agnes had not been in town, and whether
Agnes had some good influence over her too!
She did
not look very happy, I thought; but it was a good face, or a very false one. I
often glanced at it, for she sat in the window all the time we were at work;
and made our breakfast, which we took by snatches as we were employed. When I
left, at nine o'clock, she was kneeling on the ground at the Doctor's feet,
putting on his shoes and gaiters for him. There was a softened shade upon her
face, thrown from some green leaves overhanging the open window of the low
room; and I thought all the way to Doctors' Commons, of the night when I had
seen it looking at him as he read.
I was
pretty busy now; up at five in the morning, and home at nine or ten at night.
But I had infinite satisfaction in being so closely engaged, and never walked
slowly on any account, and felt enthusiastically that the more I tired myself,
the more I was doing to deserve Dora. I had not revealed myself in my altered
character to Dora yet, because she was coming to see Miss Mills in a few days,
and I deferred all I had to tell her until then; merely informing her in my
letters (all our communications were secretly forwarded through Miss Mills),
that I had much to tell her. In the meantime, I put myself on a short allowance
of bear's grease, wholly abandoned scented soap and lavender water, and sold
off three waistcoats at a prodigious sacrifice, as being too luxurious for my
stern career.
Not
satisfied with all these proceedings, but burning with impatience to do
something more, I went to see Traddles, now lodging up behind the parapet of a
house in Castle Street, Holborn. Mr. Dick, who had been with me to Highgate
twice already, and had resumed his companionship with the Doctor, I took with
me.
I took
Mr. Dick with me, because, acutely sensitive to my aunt's reverses, and
sincerely believing that no galley-slave or convict worked as I did, he had
begun to fret and worry himself out of spirits and appetite, as having nothing
useful to do. In this condition, he felt more incapable of finishing the
Memorial than ever; and the harder he worked at it, the oftener that unlucky
head of King Charles the First got into it. Seriously apprehending that his
malady would increase, unless we put some innocent deception upon him and
caused him to believe that he was useful, or unless we could put him in the way
of being really useful (which would be better), I made up my mind to try if
Traddles could help us. Before we went, I wrote Traddles a full statement of all
that had happened, and Traddles wrote me back a capital answer, expressive of
his sympathy and friendship.
We found
him hard at work with his inkstand and papers, refreshed by the sight of the
flower-pot stand and the little round table in a corner of the small apartment.
He received us cordially, and made friends with Mr. Dick in a moment. Mr. Dick
professed an absolute certainty of having seen him before, and we both said,
'Very likely.'
The first
subject on which I had to consult Traddles was this,—I had heard that many men
distinguished in various pursuits had begun life by reporting the debates in
Parliament. Traddles having mentioned newspapers to me, as one of his hopes, I
had put the two things together, and told Traddles in my letter that I wished
to know how I could qualify myself for this pursuit. Traddles now informed me,
as the result of his inquiries, that the mere mechanical acquisition necessary,
except in rare cases, for thorough excellence in it, that is to say, a perfect
and entire command of the mystery of short-hand writing and reading, was about
equal in difficulty to the mastery of six languages; and that it might perhaps
be attained, by dint of perseverance, in the course of a few years. Traddles
reasonably supposed that this would settle the business; but I, only feeling
that here indeed were a few tall trees to be hewn down, immediately resolved to
work my way on to Dora through this thicket, axe in hand.
'I am
very much obliged to you, my dear Traddles!' said I. 'I'll begin tomorrow.'
Traddles
looked astonished, as he well might; but he had no notion as yet of my
rapturous condition.
'I'll buy
a book,' said I, 'with a good scheme of this art in it; I'll work at it at the
Commons, where I haven't half enough to do; I'll take down the speeches in our
court for practice—Traddles, my dear fellow, I'll master it!'
'Dear
me,' said Traddles, opening his eyes, 'I had no idea you were such a determined
character, Copperfield!'
I don't
know how he should have had, for it was new enough to me. I passed that off,
and brought Mr. Dick on the carpet.
'You
see,' said Mr. Dick, wistfully, 'if I could exert myself, Mr. Traddles—if I
could beat a drum—or blow anything!'
Poor
fellow! I have little doubt he would have preferred such an employment in his
heart to all others. Traddles, who would not have smiled for the world, replied
composedly:
'But you
are a very good penman, sir. You told me so, Copperfield?' 'Excellent!' said I.
And indeed he was. He wrote with extraordinary neatness.
'Don't
you think,' said Traddles, 'you could copy writings, sir, if I got them for
you?'
Mr. Dick
looked doubtfully at me. 'Eh, Trotwood?'
I shook
my head. Mr. Dick shook his, and sighed. 'Tell him about the Memorial,' said
Mr. Dick.
I
explained to Traddles that there was a difficulty in keeping King Charles the
First out of Mr. Dick's manuscripts; Mr. Dick in the meanwhile looking very
deferentially and seriously at Traddles, and sucking his thumb.
'But
these writings, you know, that I speak of, are already drawn up and finished,'
said Traddles after a little consideration. 'Mr. Dick has nothing to do with
them. Wouldn't that make a difference, Copperfield? At all events, wouldn't it
be well to try?'
This gave
us new hope. Traddles and I laying our heads together apart, while Mr. Dick
anxiously watched us from his chair, we concocted a scheme in virtue of which
we got him to work next day, with triumphant success.
On a
table by the window in Buckingham Street, we set out the work Traddles procured
for him—which was to make, I forget how many copies of a legal document about
some right of way—and on another table we spread the last unfinished original
of the great Memorial. Our instructions to Mr. Dick were that he should copy
exactly what he had before him, without the least departure from the original;
and that when he felt it necessary to make the slightest allusion to King
Charles the First, he should fly to the Memorial. We exhorted him to be
resolute in this, and left my aunt to observe him. My aunt reported to us,
afterwards, that, at first, he was like a man playing the kettle-drums, and
constantly divided his attentions between the two; but that, finding this confuse
and fatigue him, and having his copy there, plainly before his eyes, he soon
sat at it in an orderly business-like manner, and postponed the Memorial to a
more convenient time. In a word, although we took great care that he should
have no more to do than was good for him, and although he did not begin with
the beginning of a week, he earned by the following Saturday night ten
shillings and nine-pence; and never, while I live, shall I forget his going
about to all the shops in the neighbourhood to change this treasure into
sixpences, or his bringing them to my aunt arranged in the form of a heart upon
a waiter, with tears of joy and pride in his eyes. He was like one under the
propitious influence of a charm, from the moment of his being usefully employed;
and if there were a happy man in the world, that Saturday night, it was the
grateful creature who thought my aunt the most wonderful woman in existence,
and me the most wonderful young man.
'No
starving now, Trotwood,' said Mr. Dick, shaking hands with me in a corner.
'I'll provide for her, Sir!' and he flourished his ten fingers in the air, as
if they were ten banks.
I hardly
know which was the better pleased, Traddles or I. 'It really,' said Traddles,
suddenly, taking a letter out of his pocket, and giving it to me, 'put Mr.
Micawber quite out of my head!'
The
letter (Mr. Micawber never missed any possible opportunity of writing a letter)
was addressed to me, 'By the kindness of T. Traddles, Esquire, of the Inner
Temple.' It ran thus:—
'MY DEAR
COPPERFIELD,
'You may
possibly not be unprepared to receive the intimation that something has turned
up. I may have mentioned to you on a former occasion that I was in expectation
of such an event.
'I am
about to establish myself in one of the provincial towns of our favoured island
(where the society may be described as a happy admixture of the agricultural
and the clerical), in immediate connexion with one of the learned professions.
Mrs. Micawber and our offspring will accompany me. Our ashes, at a future
period, will probably be found commingled in the cemetery attached to a
venerable pile, for which the spot to which I refer has acquired a reputation,
shall I say from China to Peru?
'In
bidding adieu to the modern Babylon, where we have undergone many vicissitudes,
I trust not ignobly, Mrs. Micawber and myself cannot disguise from our minds
that we part, it may be for years and it may be for ever, with an individual
linked by strong associations to the altar of our domestic life. If, on the eve
of such a departure, you will accompany our mutual friend, Mr. Thomas Traddles,
to our present abode, and there reciprocate the wishes natural to the occasion,
you will confer a Boon
'On
'One
'Who
'Is
'Ever yours,
'WILKINS MICAWBER.'
I was
glad to find that Mr. Micawber had got rid of his dust and ashes, and that
something really had turned up at last. Learning from Traddles that the
invitation referred to the evening then wearing away, I expressed my readiness
to do honour to it; and we went off together to the lodging which Mr. Micawber
occupied as Mr. Mortimer, and which was situated near the top of the Gray's Inn
Road.
The
resources of this lodging were so limited, that we found the twins, now some
eight or nine years old, reposing in a turn-up bedstead in the family
sitting-room, where Mr. Micawber had prepared, in a wash-hand-stand jug, what
he called 'a Brew' of the agreeable beverage for which he was famous. I had the
pleasure, on this occasion, of renewing the acquaintance of Master Micawber,
whom I found a promising boy of about twelve or thirteen, very subject to that
restlessness of limb which is not an unfrequent phenomenon in youths of his
age. I also became once more known to his sister, Miss Micawber, in whom, as
Mr. Micawber told us, 'her mother renewed her youth, like the Phoenix'.
'My dear
Copperfield,' said Mr. Micawber, 'yourself and Mr. Traddles find us on the
brink of migration, and will excuse any little discomforts incidental to that
position.'
Glancing
round as I made a suitable reply, I observed that the family effects were
already packed, and that the amount of luggage was by no means overwhelming. I
congratulated Mrs. Micawber on the approaching change.
'My dear
Mr. Copperfield,' said Mrs. Micawber, 'of your friendly interest in all our
affairs, I am well assured. My family may consider it banishment, if they
please; but I am a wife and mother, and I never will desert Mr. Micawber.'
Traddles,
appealed to by Mrs. Micawber's eye, feelingly acquiesced.
'That,'
said Mrs. Micawber, 'that, at least, is my view, my dear Mr. Copperfield and
Mr. Traddles, of the obligation which I took upon myself when I repeated the
irrevocable words, "I, Emma, take thee, Wilkins." I read the service
over with a flat-candle on the previous night, and the conclusion I derived
from it was, that I never could desert Mr. Micawber. And,' said Mrs. Micawber,
'though it is possible I may be mistaken in my view of the ceremony, I never
will!'
'My
dear,' said Mr. Micawber, a little impatiently, 'I am not conscious that you
are expected to do anything of the sort.'
'I am
aware, my dear Mr. Copperfield,' pursued Mrs. Micawber, 'that I am now about to
cast my lot among strangers; and I am also aware that the various members of my
family, to whom Mr. Micawber has written in the most gentlemanly terms,
announcing that fact, have not taken the least notice of Mr. Micawber's
communication. Indeed I may be superstitious,' said Mrs. Micawber, 'but it
appears to me that Mr. Micawber is destined never to receive any answers
whatever to the great majority of the communications he writes. I may augur,
from the silence of my family, that they object to the resolution I have taken;
but I should not allow myself to be swerved from the path of duty, Mr.
Copperfield, even by my papa and mama, were they still living.'
I
expressed my opinion that this was going in the right direction. 'It may be a
sacrifice,' said Mrs. Micawber, 'to immure one's-self in a Cathedral town; but
surely, Mr. Copperfield, if it is a sacrifice in me, it is much more a
sacrifice in a man of Mr. Micawber's abilities.'
'Oh! You
are going to a Cathedral town?' said I.
Mr.
Micawber, who had been helping us all, out of the wash-hand-stand jug, replied:
'To
Canterbury. In fact, my dear Copperfield, I have entered into arrangements, by
virtue of which I stand pledged and contracted to our friend Heep, to assist
and serve him in the capacity of—and to be—his confidential clerk.'
I stared
at Mr. Micawber, who greatly enjoyed my surprise.
'I am
bound to state to you,' he said, with an official air, 'that the business
habits, and the prudent suggestions, of Mrs. Micawber, have in a great measure
conduced to this result. The gauntlet, to which Mrs. Micawber referred upon a
former occasion, being thrown down in the form of an advertisement, was taken
up by my friend Heep, and led to a mutual recognition. Of my friend Heep,' said
Mr. Micawber, 'who is a man of remarkable shrewdness, I desire to speak with
all possible respect. My friend Heep has not fixed the positive remuneration at
too high a figure, but he has made a great deal, in the way of extrication from
the pressure of pecuniary difficulties, contingent on the value of my services;
and on the value of those services I pin my faith. Such address and
intelligence as I chance to possess,' said Mr. Micawber, boastfully disparaging
himself, with the old genteel air, 'will be devoted to my friend Heep's
service. I have already some acquaintance with the law—as a defendant on civil
process—and I shall immediately apply myself to the Commentaries of one of the
most eminent and remarkable of our English jurists. I believe it is unnecessary
to add that I allude to Mr. justice Blackstone.'
These
observations, and indeed the greater part of the observations made that
evening, were interrupted by Mrs. Micawber's discovering that Master Micawber
was sitting on his boots, or holding his head on with both arms as if he felt
it loose, or accidentally kicking Traddles under the table, or shuffling his
feet over one another, or producing them at distances from himself apparently
outrageous to nature, or lying sideways with his hair among the wine-glasses,
or developing his restlessness of limb in some other form incompatible with the
general interests of society; and by Master Micawber's receiving those
discoveries in a resentful spirit. I sat all the while, amazed by Mr.
Micawber's disclosure, and wondering what it meant; until Mrs. Micawber resumed
the thread of the discourse, and claimed my attention.
'What I
particularly request Mr. Micawber to be careful of, is,' said Mrs. Micawber,
'that he does not, my dear Mr. Copperfield, in applying himself to this
subordinate branch of the law, place it out of his power to rise, ultimately,
to the top of the tree. I am convinced that Mr. Micawber, giving his mind to a
profession so adapted to his fertile resources, and his flow of language, must
distinguish himself. Now, for example, Mr. Traddles,' said Mrs. Micawber,
assuming a profound air, 'a judge, or even say a Chancellor. Does an individual
place himself beyond the pale of those preferments by entering on such an
office as Mr. Micawber has accepted?'
'My
dear,' observed Mr. Micawber—but glancing inquisitively at Traddles, too; 'we
have time enough before us, for the consideration of those questions.'
'Micawber,'
she returned, 'no! Your mistake in life is, that you do not look forward far
enough. You are bound, in justice to your family, if not to yourself, to take
in at a comprehensive glance the extremest point in the horizon to which your
abilities may lead you.'
Mr.
Micawber coughed, and drank his punch with an air of exceeding
satisfaction—still glancing at Traddles, as if he desired to have his opinion.
'Why, the
plain state of the case, Mrs. Micawber,' said Traddles, mildly breaking the
truth to her. 'I mean the real prosaic fact, you know—'
'Just
so,' said Mrs. Micawber, 'my dear Mr. Traddles, I wish to be as prosaic and
literal as possible on a subject of so much importance.'
'—Is,'
said Traddles, 'that this branch of the law, even if Mr. Micawber were a
regular solicitor—'
'Exactly
so,' returned Mrs. Micawber. ('Wilkins, you are squinting, and will not be able
to get your eyes back.')
'—Has nothing,'
pursued Traddles, 'to do with that. Only a barrister is eligible for such
preferments; and Mr. Micawber could not be a barrister, without being entered
at an inn of court as a student, for five years.'
'Do I
follow you?' said Mrs. Micawber, with her most affable air of business. 'Do I
understand, my dear Mr. Traddles, that, at the expiration of that period, Mr.
Micawber would be eligible as a Judge or Chancellor?'
'He would
be ELIGIBLE,' returned Traddles, with a strong emphasis on that word.
'Thank
you,' said Mrs. Micawber. 'That is quite sufficient. If such is the case, and
Mr. Micawber forfeits no privilege by entering on these duties, my anxiety is
set at rest. I speak,' said Mrs. Micawber, 'as a female, necessarily; but I
have always been of opinion that Mr. Micawber possesses what I have heard my
papa call, when I lived at home, the judicial mind; and I hope Mr. Micawber is
now entering on a field where that mind will develop itself, and take a
commanding station.'
I quite
believe that Mr. Micawber saw himself, in his judicial mind's eye, on the
woolsack. He passed his hand complacently over his bald head, and said with
ostentatious resignation:
'My dear,
we will not anticipate the decrees of fortune. If I am reserved to wear a wig,
I am at least prepared, externally,' in allusion to his baldness, 'for that
distinction. I do not,' said Mr. Micawber, 'regret my hair, and I may have been
deprived of it for a specific purpose. I cannot say. It is my intention, my dear
Copperfield, to educate my son for the Church; I will not deny that I should be
happy, on his account, to attain to eminence.'
'For the
Church?' said I, still pondering, between whiles, on Uriah Heep.
'Yes,'
said Mr. Micawber. 'He has a remarkable head-voice, and will commence as a
chorister. Our residence at Canterbury, and our local connexion, will, no
doubt, enable him to take advantage of any vacancy that may arise in the
Cathedral corps.'
On
looking at Master Micawber again, I saw that he had a certain expression of
face, as if his voice were behind his eyebrows; where it presently appeared to
be, on his singing us (as an alternative between that and bed) 'The Wood-Pecker
tapping'. After many compliments on this performance, we fell into some general
conversation; and as I was too full of my desperate intentions to keep my
altered circumstances to myself, I made them known to Mr. and Mrs. Micawber. I
cannot express how extremely delighted they both were, by the idea of my aunt's
being in difficulties; and how comfortable and friendly it made them.
When we
were nearly come to the last round of the punch, I addressed myself to
Traddles, and reminded him that we must not separate, without wishing our
friends health, happiness, and success in their new career. I begged Mr.
Micawber to fill us bumpers, and proposed the toast in due form: shaking hands
with him across the table, and kissing Mrs. Micawber, to commemorate that
eventful occasion. Traddles imitated me in the first particular, but did not consider
himself a sufficiently old friend to venture on the second.
'My dear
Copperfield,' said Mr. Micawber, rising with one of his thumbs in each of his
waistcoat pockets, 'the companion of my youth: if I may be allowed the
expression—and my esteemed friend Traddles: if I may be permitted to call him
so—will allow me, on the part of Mrs. Micawber, myself, and our offspring, to
thank them in the warmest and most uncompromising terms for their good wishes.
It may be expected that on the eve of a migration which will consign us to a
perfectly new existence,' Mr. Micawber spoke as if they were going five hundred
thousand miles, 'I should offer a few valedictory remarks to two such friends
as I see before me. But all that I have to say in this way, I have said.
Whatever station in society I may attain, through the medium of the learned
profession of which I am about to become an unworthy member, I shall endeavour
not to disgrace, and Mrs. Micawber will be safe to adorn. Under the temporary
pressure of pecuniary liabilities, contracted with a view to their immediate
liquidation, but remaining unliquidated through a combination of circumstances,
I have been under the necessity of assuming a garb from which my natural
instincts recoil—I allude to spectacles—and possessing myself of a cognomen, to
which I can establish no legitimate pretensions. All I have to say on that
score is, that the cloud has passed from the dreary scene, and the God of Day
is once more high upon the mountain tops. On Monday next, on the arrival of the
four o'clock afternoon coach at Canterbury, my foot will be on my native
heath—my name, Micawber!'
Mr.
Micawber resumed his seat on the close of these remarks, and drank two glasses
of punch in grave succession. He then said with much solemnity:
'One
thing more I have to do, before this separation is complete, and that is to
perform an act of justice. My friend Mr. Thomas Traddles has, on two several
occasions, "put his name", if I may use a common expression, to bills
of exchange for my accommodation. On the first occasion Mr. Thomas Traddles was
left—let me say, in short, in the lurch. The fulfilment of the second has not
yet arrived. The amount of the first obligation,' here Mr. Micawber carefully
referred to papers, 'was, I believe, twenty-three, four, nine and a half, of
the second, according to my entry of that transaction, eighteen, six, two.
These sums, united, make a total, if my calculation is correct, amounting to
forty-one, ten, eleven and a half. My friend Copperfield will perhaps do me the
favour to check that total?'
I did so
and found it correct.
'To leave
this metropolis,' said Mr. Micawber, 'and my friend Mr. Thomas Traddles,
without acquitting myself of the pecuniary part of this obligation, would weigh
upon my mind to an insupportable extent. I have, therefore, prepared for my
friend Mr. Thomas Traddles, and I now hold in my hand, a document, which
accomplishes the desired object. I beg to hand to my friend Mr. Thomas Traddles
my I.O.U. for forty-one, ten, eleven and a half, and I am happy to recover my
moral dignity, and to know that I can once more walk erect before my fellow
man!'
With this
introduction (which greatly affected him), Mr. Micawber placed his I.O.U. in
the hands of Traddles, and said he wished him well in every relation of life. I
am persuaded, not only that this was quite the same to Mr. Micawber as paying
the money, but that Traddles himself hardly knew the difference until he had
had time to think about it. Mr. Micawber walked so erect before his fellow man,
on the strength of this virtuous action, that his chest looked half as broad
again when he lighted us downstairs. We parted with great heartiness on both
sides; and when I had seen Traddles to his own door, and was going home alone,
I thought, among the other odd and contradictory things I mused upon, that,
slippery as Mr. Micawber was, I was probably indebted to some compassionate
recollection he retained of me as his boy-lodger, for never having been asked
by him for money. I certainly should not have had the moral courage to refuse
it; and I have no doubt he knew that (to his credit be it written), quite as
well as I did.
To be continued
