Creakle, was one of the great sights of my life. I didn't think Miss
Creakle equal to little Em'ly in point of beauty, and I didn't love her
(I didn't dare); but I thought her a young lady of extraordinary
attractions, and in point of gentility not to be surpassed. When
Steerforth, in white trousers, carried her parasol for her, I felt proud
to know him; and believed that she could not choose but adore him with
all her heart. Mr. Sharp and Mr. Mell were both great personages in my
eyes; but Steerforth was to them what the sun was to two stars. An
accidental matter strengthened the friendship between Steerforth and me,
in a manner that inspired me with great pride and satisfaction, though
it sometimes led to inconvenience. It happened on one occasion, when he
was doing me the honor of talking to me in the playground that I
remarked that something or somebody--I forget what now--was like
something or somebody in the story of Peregrine Pickle. He said nothing
at the time; but when I was going to bed at night, asked me if I had got
that book.
I told him no, and explained how it was that I had read it, and all
those other books of which I had made mention.
"And do you recollect them?" Steerforth said.
"Oh yes," I replied; I had a good memory, and I believed I recollected
them very well.
"Then I tell you what, young Copperfield," said Steerforth, "you shall
tell 'em to me. I can't get to sleep very early at night, and I
generally wake rather early in the morning. We'll go over 'em one after
another. We'll make some regular Arabian Nights of it."
I felt extremely flattered by this arrangement, and we commenced
carrying out the plan that very evening.
Steerforth showed his thought for me in one particular instance, in an
unflinching manner that was a little troublesome, to poor Traddles and
the rest. Peggotty's promised letter--what a comfortable letter it
was!--arrived before "the half" of the school-term was many weeks old;
and with it a cake in a perfect nest of oranges, and two bottles of
cowslip wine. This treasure, as in duty bound, I laid at the feet of
Steerforth, and begged him to divide it among the boys.
"Now, I'll tell you what, young Copperfield," said he, "the wine shall
be kept to wet your whistle when you are story-telling."
I blushed at the idea, and begged him, in my modesty, not to think of
it. But he said he had observed I was sometimes hoarse--a little roopy
was his exact expression--and it should be, every drop, set apart to the
purpose he had mentioned. Accordingly, it was locked up in his box, and
drawn off by himself in a phial, and administered to me through a piece
of quill in the cork, when I was supposed to be in want of something to
restore my voice. Sometimes, to make it more powerful, he was so kind as
to squeeze orange juice into it, or to stir it up with ginger, or
dissolve a peppermint drop in it.
We seem to me to have been months over Peregrine, and months more over
the other stories. The school never flagged for want of a story, I am
certain; and the wine lasted out almost as well as the matter. Poor
Traddles--I never think of that boy but with a strange disposition to
laugh, and with tears in my eyes--was a sort of echo to the story; and
pretended to be overcome with laughing at the funny parts, and to be
overcome with fear when there was any passage of an alarming character
in the story. This rather put me out very often. It was a great jest of
his, I recollect, to pretend that he couldn't keep his teeth from
chattering, whenever mention was made of an Alguazil in connection with
the adventures of Gil Blas; and I remember when Gil Blas met the captain
of the robbers in Madrid, this unlucky joker acted such a shudder of
terror that he was overheard by Mr. Creakle, who was prowling about the
passage, and handsomely flogged for disorderly conduct in the bedroom.
One day I had a visit from Mr. Peggotty and Ham, who had brought two
enormous lobsters, a huge crab, and a large canvas bag of shrimps, as
they "remembered I was partial to a relish with my meals."
I was proud to introduce my friend Steerforth to these kind, simple
friends, and told them how good Steerforth was to me, and how he helped
me with my work and took care of me, and Steerforth delighted the
fishermen with his friendly, pleasant manners.
The "relish" was greatly enjoyed by the boys at supper that night. Only
poor Traddles became very ill from eating crab so late.
At last the holidays came, and I went home. The carrier, Barkis, met me
at Yarmouth, and was rather gruff, which I soon found out was because he
had not had any answer to his message. I promised to ask Peggotty for
one.
Ah, what a strange feeling it was to be going home when it was not home,
and to find that every object I looked at reminded me of the happy old
home, which was like a dream I could never dream again!
God knows how like a child the memory may have been that was awakened
within me by the sound of my mother's voice in the old parlor, when I
set foot in the hall.
I believed, from the solitary and thoughtful way in which my mother
murmured her song, that she was alone. And I went softly into the room.
She was sitting by the fire, nursing an infant, whose tiny hand she held
against her neck. Her eyes were looking down upon its face, and she sat
singing to it. I was so far right, that she had no other companion.
I spoke to her, and she started, and cried out. But seeing me, she
called me her dear Davy, her own boy; and, coming half across the room
to meet me, kneeled down upon the ground and kissed me, and laid my head
down on her bosom near the little creature that was nestling there, and
put its hand up to my lips.
I wish I had died. I wish I had died then, with that feeling in my
heart! I should have been more fit for heaven than I ever have been
since.
"He is your brother," said my mother, fondling me. "Davy, my pretty boy:
my poor child!" Then she kissed me more and more, and clasped me round
the neck. This she was doing when Peggotty came running in, and bounced
down on the ground beside us and went mad about us both for a quarter of
an hour.
We had a very happy afternoon the day I came. Mr. and Miss Murdstone
were out, and I sat with my mother and Peggotty, and told them all about
my school and Steerforth, and took the little baby in my arms and nursed
it lovingly. But when the Murdstones came back I was more unhappy than
ever.
I felt uncomfortable about going down to breakfast in The morning, as I
had never set eyes on Mr. Murdstone since the day when I committed my
memorable offense. However, as it must be done, I went down, after two
or three false starts halfway, and as many runs back on tiptoe to my own
room, and presented myself in the parlor.
He was standing before the fire with his back to it, while Miss
Murdstone made the tea. He looked at me steadily as I entered, but made
no sign of recognition whatever.
I went up to him, after a moment of confusion, and said, "I beg your
pardon, sir. I am very sorry for what I did, and I hope you will forgive
me."
"I am glad to hear you are sorry, David," he replied.
"How do you do, ma'am?" I said to Miss Murdstone.
"Ah, dear me!" sighed Miss Murdstone, giving me the tea-caddy scoop
instead of her finger. "How long are the holidays?"
"A month, ma'am."
"Counting from when?"
"From to-day, ma'am."
"Oh!" said Miss Murdstone. "Then here's _one_ day off."
She kept a calendar of the holidays in this way, and every morning
checked a day off in exactly the same manner. She did it gloomily until
she came to ten, but when she got into two figures she became more
hopeful, and, as the time advanced, even jocular.
Thus the holidays lagged away, until the morning came when Miss
Murdstone said: "Here's the last day off!" and gave me the closing cup
of tea of the vacation.
I was not sorry to go. Again Mr. Barkis appeared at the gate, and again
Miss Murdstone in her warning voice said: "Clara!" when my mother bent
over me, to bid me farewell.
I kissed her and my baby brother; it is not so much the embrace she gave
me that lives in my mind, though it was as fervent as could be, as what
followed the embrace.
I was in the carrier's cart when I heard her calling to me. I looked
out, and she stood at the garden gate alone, holding her baby up in her
arms for me to see. It was cold, still weather; and not a hair of her
head, or fold of her dress, was stirred, as she looked intently at me,
holding up her child.
So I lost her. So I saw her afterwards in my sleep at school--a silent
presence near my bed--looking at me with the same intent face--holding
up her baby in her arms.
About two months after I had been back at school I was sent for one day
to go into the parlor. I hurried in joyfully, for it was my birthday,
and I thought it might be a box from Peggotty--but, alas! no; it was
very sad news Mrs. Creakle had to give me--my dear mamma had died! Mrs.
Creakle was very kind and gentle to me, and the boys, especially
Traddles, were very sorry for me.
I went home the next day, and heard that the dear baby had died too.
Peggotty received me with great tenderness, and told me about my
mother's illness and how she had sent a loving message to me.
"Tell my dearest boy that his mother, as she lay here, blessed him not
once, but a thousand times," and she had prayed to God to protect and
keep her fatherless boy.
Mr. Murdstone did not take any notice of me, nor had Miss Murdstone a
word of kindness for me. Peggotty was to leave in a month, and, to my
great joy, I was allowed to go with her on a visit to Mr. Peggotty. On
our way I found out that the mysterious message I had given to Peggotty
meant that Barkis wanted to marry her, and Peggotty had consented.
Everyone in Mr. Peggotty's cottage was pleased to see me, and did their
best to comfort me. Little Em'ly was at school when I arrived, and I
went out to meet her. I knew the way by which she would come, and
presently found myself strolling along the path to meet her.
A figure appeared in the distance before long, and I soon knew it to be
Em'ly, who was a little creature still in stature, though she was grown.
But when she drew nearer, and I saw her blue eyes looking bluer, and her
dimpled face looking brighter, and her own self prettier and gayer, a
curious feeling came over me that made me pretend not to know her, and
pass by as if I were looking at something a long way off. I have done
such a thing since in later life, or I am mistaken.
Little Em'ly didn't care a bit. She saw me well enough; but instead of
turning round and calling after me, ran away laughing. This obliged me
to run after her, and she ran so fast that we were very near the cottage
before I caught her.
"Oh, it's you, is it?" said little Em'ly.
"Why, you knew who it was, Em'ly," said I.
"And didn't _you_ know who it was?" said Em'ly. I was going to kiss her,
but she covered her cherry lips with her hands, and said she wasn't a
baby now, and ran away, laughing more than ever, into the house.
She seemed to delight in teasing me, which was a change in her I
wondered at very much. The tea-table was ready, and our little locker
was put out in its old place, but instead of coming to sit by me, she
went and bestowed her company upon that grumbling Mrs. Gummidge; and on
Mr. Peggotty's inquiring why, rumpled her hair all over her face to hide
it, and would do nothing but laugh.
"A little puss it is!" said Mr. Peggotty, patting her with his great
hand.
"Ah," said Peggotty, running his fingers through her bright curls,
"here's another orphan, you see, sir, and here," giving Ham a backhanded
knock in the chest, "is another of 'em, though he don't look much like
it."
"If I had _you_ for a guardian, Mr. Peggotty," said I, "I don't think I
should _feel_ much like it."
Em'ly was confused by our all observing her, and hung down her head, and
her face was covered with blushes. Glancing up presently through her
stray curls, and seeing that we were all looking at her still (I am sure
I, for one, could have looked at her for hours), she ran away, and kept
away till it was nearly bedtime.
I lay down in the old little bed in the stern of the boat, and the wind
came moaning on across the flat as it had done before. But I could not
help fancying, now that it moaned, of those who were gone; and instead
of thinking that the sea might rise in the night and float the boat
away, I thought of the sea that had risen, since I last heard those
sounds, and drowned my happy home, I recollect, as the wind and water
began to sound fainter in my ears, putting a short clause into my
prayers, petitioning that I might grow up to marry little Em'ly, and so
dropping lovingly asleep.
During this visit Peggotty was married to Mr. Barkis, and had a nice
little house of her own, and I spent the night before I was to return
home in a little room in the roof.
"Young or old, Davy dear, so long as I have this house over my head,"
said Peggotty, "you shall find it as if I expected you here directly
every minute. I shall keep it as I used to keep your old little room, my
darling, and if you was to go to China, you might think of its being
kept just the same all the time you were away."
I felt how good and true a friend she was, and thanked her as well as I
could, for they had brought me to the gate of my home, and Peggotty had
me clasped in her arms.
I was poor and lonely at home, with no one near to speak a loving word,
or a face to look on with love or liking, only the two persons who had
broken my mother's heart. How utterly wretched and forlorn I felt! I
found I was not to go back to school any more, and wandered about sad
and solitary, neglected and uncared for. Peggotty's weekly visits were
my only comfort. I longed to go to school, however hard an one, to be
taught something anyhow, anywhere--but no one took any pains with me,
and I had no friends near who could help me.
At last one day, after some weary months had passed, Mr. Murdstone told
me I was to go to London and earn my own living. There was a place for
me at Murdstone & Grinby's, a firm in the wine trade. My lodging and
clothes would be provided for me by my step-father, and I would earn
enough for my food and pocket money. The next day, I was sent up to
London with the manager, dressed in a shabby little white hat with black
crape round it for my mother, a black jacket, and hard, stiff corduroy
trousers, a little fellow of ten years old, to fight my own battles with
the world!
My place, I found, was one of the lowest in the firm of Murdstone &
Grinby, with boys of no education and in quite an inferior station to
myself--my duties were to wash the bottles, stick on labels, and so on.
I was utterly miserable at being degraded in this way, when I thought of
my former companions, Steerforth and Traddles, and my hopes of becoming
a learned and famous man, and shed bitter tears, as I feared I would
forget all I had learnt at school. My lodging, one bare little room, was
in the house of some people named Micawber, shiftless, careless,
good-natured people, who were always in debt and difficulties. I felt
great pity for their misfortunes and did what I could to help poor Mrs.
Micawber to sell her books and other little things she could spare, to
buy food for herself, her husband, and their four children. I was too
young and childish to know how to provide properly for myself, and often
found I was obliged to live on bread and slices of cold pudding at the
end of the week. If I had not been a very innocent-minded, good little
boy, I might easily have fallen into bad ways at this time. But God took
care of me and kept me from harm. I would not even tell Peggotty how
miserable I was, for fear of distressing her.
The troubles of the Micawbers increased more and more, until at last
they were obliged to leave London. I was very sad at this, for I had
been with them so long that I felt they were my friends, and the
prospect of being once more utterly alone and having to find a lodging
with strangers, made me so unhappy that I determined to endure this sort
of life no longer. The last Sunday the Micawbers were in town I dined
with them. I had bought a spotted horse for their little boy and a doll
for the little girl, and had saved up a shilling for the poor
servant-girl. After I had seen them off the next morning by the coach, I
wrote to Peggotty to ask her if she knew where my aunt, Miss Betsy
Trotwood, lived, and to borrow half-a-guinea; for I had resolved to run
away from Murdstone & Grinby's, and go to this aunt and tell her my
story. I remembered my mother telling me of her visit when I was a baby,
and that she fancied Miss Betsy had stroked her hair gently, and this
gave me courage to appeal to her. Peggotty wrote, enclosing the
half-guinea, and saying she only knew Miss Trotwood lived near Dover,
but whether in that place itself, or at Folkestone, Sandgate, or Hythe,
she could not tell. Hearing that all these places were close together, I
made up my mind to start. As I had received my week's wages in advance,
I waited till the following Saturday, thinking it would not be honest to
go before. I went out to look for someone to carry my box to the coach
office, and unfortunately hired a wicked young man who not only ran off
with the box, but robbed me of my half-guinea, leaving me in dire
distress. In despair, I started off to walk to Dover, and was forced to
sell my waistcoat to buy some bread. The first night I found my way to
my old school at Blackheath, and slept on a haystack close by, feeling
some comfort in the thought of the boys being near. I knew Steerforth
had left, or I would have tried to see him.
On I trudged the next day and sold my jacket at Chatham to a dreadful
old man, who kept me waiting all day for the money, which was only one
shilling and fourpence. I was afraid to buy anything but bread or to
spend any money on a bed or a shelter for the night, and was terribly
frightened by some rough tramps, who threw stones at me when I did not
answer to their calls. After six days, I arrived at Dover, ragged,
dusty, and half-dead with hunger and fatigue. But here, at first, I
could get no tidings of my aunt, and, in despair, was going to try some
of the other places Peggotty had mentioned, when the driver of a fly
dropped his horsecloth, and as I was handing it up to him, I saw
something kind in the man's face that encouraged me to ask once more if
he knew where Miss Trotwood lived.
The man directed me towards some houses on the heights, and thither I
toiled. Going into a little shop, I by chance met with Miss Trotwood's
maid, who showed me the house, and went in leaving me standing at the
gate, a forlorn little creature, without a jacket or waistcoat, my white
hat crushed out of shape, my shoes worn out, my shirt and trousers torn
and stained, my pretty curly hair tangled, my face and hands sunburnt
and covered with dust. Lifting my eyes to one of the windows above, I
saw a pleasant-faced gentleman with gray hair, who nodded at me several
times, then shook his head and went away. I was just turning away to
think what I should do, when a tall, erect elderly lady, with a
gardening apron on and a knife in her hand, came out of the house, and
began to dig up a root in the garden.
"Go away," she said. "Go away. No boys here."
But I felt desperate. Going in softly, I stood beside her, and touched
her with my finger, and said timidly, "If you please, ma'am--" and when
she looked up, I went on--
"Please, aunt, I am your nephew."
"Oh, Lord!" she exclaimed in astonishment, and sat flat down on the
path, staring at me, while I went on--
"I am David Copperfield of Blunderstone, in Suffolk, where you came the
night I was born, and saw my dear mamma. I have been very unhappy since
she died. I have been neglected and taught nothing, and thrown upon
myself, and put to work not fit for me. It made me run away to you. I
was robbed at first starting out and have walked all the way, and have
never slept in a bed since I began the journey." Here I broke into a
passion of crying, and my aunt jumped up and took me into the house,
where she opened a cupboard and took out some bottles, pouring some of
the contents of each into my mouth, not noticing in her agitation what
they were, for I fancied I tasted anise-seed water, anchovy sauce, and
salad dressing! Then she put me on the sofa and sent the servant to ask
"Mr. Dick" to come down. The gentleman whom I had seen at the window
came in and was told by Miss Trotwood who the ragged little object on
the sofa was, and she finished by saying--
"Now here you see young David Copperfield, and the question is what
shall I do with him?"
"Do with him?" answered Mr. Dick. Then, after some consideration, and
looking at me, he said, "Well, if I was you, I should wash him!"
Miss Trotwood was quite pleased at this, and a warm bath was got ready
at once, after which I was dressed in a shirt and trousers belonging to
Mr. Dick (for Janet had burnt my rags), rolled up in several shawls, and
put on the sofa till dinner-time, where I slept, and woke with the
impression that my aunt had come and put my hair off my face, and
murmured, "Pretty fellow, poor fellow."
After dinner I had to tell my story all over again to my aunt and Mr.
Dick. Miss Trotwood again asked Mr. Dick's advice, and was delighted
when that gentleman suggested I should be put to bed. I knelt down to
say my prayers that night in a pleasant room facing the sea, and as I
lay in the clean, snow-white bed, I felt so grateful and comforted that
I prayed earnestly I might never be homeless again, and might never
forget the homeless.
The next morning my aunt told me she had written to Mr. Murdstone. I was
alarmed to think that my step-father knew where I was, and exclaimed--
"Oh, I don't know what I shall do if I have to go back to Mr.
Murdstone!"
But my aunt said nothing of her intentions, and I was uncertain what was
to become of me. I hoped she might befriend me.
At last Mr. and Miss Murdstone arrived. To Miss Betsy's great
indignation, Miss Murdstone rode a donkey across the green in front of
the house, and stopped at the gate. Nothing made Miss Trotwood so angry
as to see donkeys on that green, and I had already seen several battles
between my aunt or Janet and the donkey boys.
After driving away the donkey and the boy who had dared to bring it
there, Miss Trotwood received her visitors. She kept me near her, fenced
in with a chair.
Mr. Murdstone told Miss Betsy that I was a very bad, stubborn,
violent-tempered boy, whom he had tried to improve, but could not
succeed; that he had put me in a respectable business from which I had
run away. If Miss Trotwood chose to protect and encourage me now, she
must do it always, for he had come to fetch me away from there and then,
and if I was ready to come, and Miss Trotwood did not wish to give me up
to be dealt with exactly as Mr. Murdstone liked, he would cast me off
for always, and have no more to do with me.
"Are you ready to go, David?" asked my aunt.
But I answered no, and begged and prayed her for my father's sake to
befriend and protect me, for neither Mr. nor Miss Murdstone had ever
liked me or been kind to me and had made my mamma, who always loved me
dearly, very unhappy about me, and I had been very miserable.
"Mr. Dick," said Miss Trotwood, "what shall I do with this child?"
Mr. Dick considered. "Have him measured for a suit of clothes directly."
"Mr. Dick," said Miss Trotwood, "your common sense is invaluable."
Then she pulled me towards her, and said to Mr. Murdstone, "You can go
when you like. I'll take my chance with the boy. If he's all you say he
is I can at least do as much for him as you have done. But I don't
believe a word of it."
Then she told Mr. Murdstone what she thought of the way he had treated
me and my mother, which did not make that gentleman feel very
comfortable, and finished by turning to Miss Murdstone and saying--
"Good-day to you, too, ma'am, and if I ever see you ride a donkey across
my green again, as sure as you have a head upon your shoulders, I'll
knock your bonnet off and tread upon it!"
This startled Miss Murdstone so much that she went off quite quietly
with her brother, while I, overjoyed, threw my arms round my aunt's
neck, and kissed and thanked her with great heartiness.
Some clothes were bought for me that same day and marked "Trotwood
Copperfield," for my aunt wished to call me by her name.
Now I felt my troubles were over, and I began quite a new life, well
cared for and kindly treated. I was sent to a very nice school in
Canterbury, where my aunt left me with these words, which I never
forgot: