Then suddenly changed his mind, jumped into the cart, sat upon my box, and
exclaiming that he would drive to the pollis straight, rattled away.
I ran after him as fast as I could, narrowly escaping being run over some
twenty times in a mile, until I had no breath left to call out with. Now I
lost him, now I saw him, but at length, confused and exhausted, I left him
to go where he would with my box and money, and, panting and crying, but
never stopping, I faced about for Greenwich, and had some wild idea of
running straight to Dover. However, my scattered senses were soon
collected and I sat down on a doorstep, quite spent. Fortunately, it was a
fine summer night, and when I had recovered my breath, I went on again.
But I had only three-halfpence in the world, and as I trudged on, I
pictured to myself how I should be found dead in a day or two, under some
hedge. Passing a little pawnshop, I left my waistcoat, and went on, richer
by ninepence, and I foresaw that my jacket would go next, in fact that I
should be lucky if I got to Dover in a shirt and a pair of trousers.
It had occurred to me to go on as fast as I could towards Salem House, and
spend the night behind the wall at the back of my old school, where there
used to be a haystack. I imagined it would be a kind of company to have
the boys and the bedroom where I used to tell the stories, so near me. I
had a hard day's walk, and with great trouble found Salem House, and the
haystack, and lay down outside the dark and silent house. Never shall I
forget the lonely sensation of first lying down, without a roof above my
head! But at last I slept, and dreamed of old school-days, until the warm
beams of the sun, and the rising bell at Salem House awoke me. As none of
my old companions could still be there, I had no wish to linger, so I
crept away from the wall and struck out into the dusty Dover road.
That day I got through three and twenty miles, and at night I passed over
the bridge at Rochester, footsore and tired, eating bread as I walked.
There were plenty of signs, "Lodgings for Travellers," but I sought no
shelter, fearing to spend the few pence I had. Very stiff and sore of foot
I was in the morning, and I felt that I could go only a short distance
that day. I took off my jacket, and went into a shop, where I exchanged it
finally for one and fourpence. For threepence I refreshed myself
completely, and limped seven miles further. I slept under another
haystack, after washing my blistered feet in a stream, and went on in
rather better spirits, coming at last to the bare wide downs near Dover. I
then began to inquire of everyone I met, about my aunt, but no one knew
her, and finally, when the morning was far spent, in despair I went into a
little shop to ask once more. I spoke to the clerk, but a young woman on
whom he was waiting, took the inquiry to herself.
"My mistress?" she said. "What do you want with her, boy?"
On my replying that I wished to see Miss Trotwood, the young woman told me
to follow her. I needed no second permission, though by this time my legs
shook under me. Soon we came to a neat little cottage with cheerful
bow-windows, in front of it a gravelled court, full of flowers.
"This is Miss Trotwood's," said the young woman, and then she hurried in,
and left me standing at the gate. My shoes were by this time in a woeful
condition, my hat was crushed and bent, my shirt and trousers stained and
torn, my hair had known no comb or brush since I left London, my face,
neck, and hands, from unaccustomed exposure, were burnt to a berry-brown.
From head to foot I was powdered with dust. In this plight I waited to
introduce myself to my formidable aunt.
As I waited, there came out of the house a lady with a handkerchief tied
over her cap, a pair of gardening gloves on her hands, and carrying a
great knife. I knew her immediately, for she stalked out of the house
exactly as my mother had so often described her stalking up our garden at
home.
"Go away!" said Miss Betsey, shaking her head, and waving her knife. "Go
along! No boys here!"
I watched her, with my heart at my lips, as she stopped to dig up a root.
Then I went up and touched her.
"If you please, ma'am," I began.
She started, and looked up.
"If you please, aunt."
"Eh?" exclaimed Miss Betsey, in a tone of amazement I have never heard
approached.
"If you please, aunt, I am your nephew."
"Oh, Lord!" said my aunt. And sat down flat in the garden-path.
"I am David Copperfield, of Blunderstone, in Suffolk--where you came, on
the night when I was born, and saw my dear mama. I have been very unhappy
since she died. I have been slighted 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 setting out, and have walked all the way, and have never
slept in a bed since I began the journey." Here my self-support gave way
all at once, and I broke into a passion of crying.
My aunt sat on the gravel, staring at me, until I began to cry, when she
got up in a great hurry, collared me, and took me into the parlour. Her
first proceeding there was to unlock a tall press, bring out several
bottles, and pour some of the contents of each into my mouth. I think they
must have been taken out at random, for I am sure I tasted aniseed water,
anchovy sauce, and salad dressing. Then she put me on a sofa with a shawl
under my head, and a handkerchief under my feet, lest I should soil the
cover, and then, sitting down so I could not see her face, she ejaculated
"Mercy on us!" at regular intervals.
After a time she rang a bell, and a grey-headed, florid old gentleman,
called Mr. Dick, who had the appearance of a grown-up boy, and who lived
with my aunt, appeared. When my aunt asked his opinion about what to do
with me, his advice was to wash me.
This Janet, the maid, was preparing to do, when suddenly my aunt became,
in one moment, rigid with indignation, and cried out, "Janet! Donkeys!"
Upon which, Janet came running as if the house were in flames, and darted
out on a little piece of green in front, to warn off two donkeys, lady
ridden, while my aunt seized the bridle of a third animal, laden with a
child, led him from the sacred spot, and boxed the ears of the unlucky
urchin in attendance.
To this hour I do not know whether my aunt had any lawful right of way
over that patch of green, but she had settled it in her own mind that she
had, and it was all the same to her. The passage of a donkey over that
spot was the one great outrage of her life. In whatever occupation or
conversation she was engaged, a donkey turned the current of her ideas,
and she was upon him straight. Jugs of water were kept in secret places
ready to be discharged on the offenders, sticks were laid in ambush behind
the doors; sallies were made at all hours, and incessant war prevailed,
which was perhaps an agreeable excitement to the donkey boys.
The bath was a great comfort, for I began to feel acute pains in my limbs,
and was so tired that I could scarcely keep awake for five minutes
together. Enrobed in clothes belonging to Mr. Dick, and tied up in great
shawls, I fell asleep, on the sofa, and only awoke in time to dine off a
roast fowl and pudding, while my aunt asked me a number of questions, and
spoke of my mother and Peggotty, and in the afternoon we talked again and
there was another alarm of Donkeys.
After tea we sat at the window until dusk, and shortly afterwards I was
escorted up to a pleasant room at the top of the house. When I had said my
prayers, and the candle had burnt out, I lay there yielding to a sensation
of profound gratitude and rest, nestling in the snow white sheets, and I
prayed that I might never be houseless any more, and might never forget
the houseless.
At breakfast the following day, I found myself the object of my aunt's
most rigid scrutiny.
"Hallo!" she said, after a time to attract my attention, and when I looked
up she told me that she had written Mr. Murdstone in regard to me, under
which information I became heavy of heart, for I felt that some efforts
would be made to force me to return to the warehouse, while the more I saw
of my aunt, the more sure I felt that she was the one with whom I wished
to stay; that with all her eccentricities and humours, she was one to be
honoured and trusted in.
On the second day after my arrival, my Aunt gave a sudden alarm of
donkeys, and to my consternation I beheld Miss Murdstone ride over the
sacred piece of green, and stop in front of the house.
"Go along with you!" cried my aunt, shaking her head and her fist at the
window. "You have no business there. How dare you trespass? Oh! you
bold-faced thing!"
I hurriedly told her who the offender was, and that Mr. Murdstone was
behind her, but Aunt Betsey was frantic, and cried, "I don't care who it
is--I won't allow it! Go away! Janet, lead him off!" and from behind my
aunt, I saw the donkey pulled round by the bridle, while Mr. Murdstone
tried to lead him on, and Miss Murdstone struck at Janet with a parasol,
and several boys shouted vigorously. But my aunt suddenly discovering the
donkey's guardian to be one of the most inveterate offenders against her,
rushed out and pounced upon him, while the Murdstones waited until she
should be at leisure to receive them. She marched past them into the
house, a little ruffled by the combat, and took no notice of them until
they were announced by Janet.
"Shall I go away, aunt?" I asked trembling.
"No, sir," said she. "Certainly not!" With which she pushed me into a
corner, and fenced me in with a chair, as if it were a prison, and there I
stayed. There were several sharp passages at arms between my aunt and the
Murdstones, when my past, and my mother's life came up for discussion.
Finally Mr. Murdstone said:
"I am here to take David back, Miss Trotwood; to dispose of him as I think
proper, and to deal with him as I think right. I am not here to make any
promise to anybody. You may possibly have some idea, Miss Trotwood, of
abetting him in his running away, and in his complaints to you. Now, I
must caution you, that if you abet him once, you abet him for good and
all. I cannot trifle, or be trifled with. I am here, for the first and
last time, to take him away. Is he ready to go? If you tell me he is not,
it is indifferent to me on what pretence,--my doors are shut against him
henceforth, and yours, I take it for granted are open to him."
My aunt had listened with the closest attention, her hands folded on her
knee, and looking grimly at the speaker. When he had finished, she turned
to Miss Murdstone, and said:
"Well, ma'am, have _you_ got anything to remark?"
As she had not, my aunt turned to me.
"And what does the boy say?" she said. "Are you ready to go, David?"
I answered no, and entreated her not to let me go. I begged and prayed my
aunt to befriend and protect me, for my father's sake.
My aunt consulted for a moment with Mr. Dick, and 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, at least I can do as much for him then, as you have done.
But I don't believe a word of it."
There were some additional words on both sides, and then the Murdstones
stood ready to leave.
"Good day, sir," said my aunt "and good-bye! Good day to you too,
ma'am,"--turning suddenly upon his sister. "Let me see you ride a donkey
over my green again, and as sure as you have a head upon your shoulders,
I'll knock your bonnet off, and tread upon it!"
The manner and matter of this speech were so fiery, that Miss Murdstone
without a word in answer, discreetly put her arm through her brother's,
and walked hastily out of the cottage, my aunt remaining at the window,
prepared in case of the donkey's re-appearance, to carry her threat into
execution. No attempt at defiance being made, however, her face gradually
relaxed, and became so pleasant, that I was emboldened to kiss and thank
her; which I did with great heartiness. She then told me that she wished
my name to be changed to Trotwood Copperfield, and this notion so pleased
her, that some ready-made clothes purchased for me that very day, were
marked "Trotwood Copperfield," in indelible ink before I put them on, and
it was settled that all my clothes thereafter should be marked in the same
way.
Thus I began my new life in a new name, and with everything new about me.
For many days I felt that it was all a dream, and then the truth came over
me in waves of joy that it was no dream, but blessed, blessed reality!
Aunt Betsey soon sent me to Doctor Strong's excellent school at
Canterbury. It was decorously ordered on a sound system, with an appeal in
everything to the honour and good faith of the boys. We all felt that we
had a part in the management of the place, and learnt with a good will,
desiring to do it credit. We had noble games out of hours, and plenty of
liberty, and the whole plan of the school was as superior to that of Salem
House as can be imagined. I soon became warmly attached to the place, the
teachers, and the boys, and in a little while the Murdstone and Grinsby
life became so strange that I hardly believed in it. Of course I wrote to
Peggotty, relating my experiences, and how my aunt had taken me under her
care, and returning the half guinea I had borrowed, and Peggotty answered
promptly, but although she expressed herself as glad in my gladness, I
could see that she did not take quite kindly to my Aunt as yet.
The days glide swiftly on. I am higher in the school,--I am growing great
in Latin verse, think dancing school a tiresome affair, and neglect the
laces of my boots. Doctor Strong refers to me publicly as a promising
young scholar, at which my aunt remits me a guinea by the next post.
The shade of a young butcher crosses my path. He is the terror of Doctor
Strong's young gentlemen, whom he publicly disparages. He names
individuals (myself included) whom he could undertake to settle with one
hand, and the other tied behind him. He waylays the smaller boys to punch
their unprotected heads, and calls challenges after me in the streets. For
these reasons, I resolve to fight the butcher.
We meet by appointment with a select audience. Soon, I don't know where
the wall is, or where I am, or where anybody is, but after a bloody tangle
and tussle in the trodden grass, feeling very queer about the head, I
awake, and augur justly that the victory is not mine. I am taken home in a
sad plight, to have beef-steaks put to my eyes, and am rubbed with vinegar
and brandy, and find a great white puffy place on my upper lip, and for
several days I remain in the house with a green shade over my eyes, and
yet feeling that I did right to fight the butcher.
I change more and more, and now I am the head boy. I wear a gold watch and
chain, a ring upon my little finger, and a long-tailed coat. I am
seventeen, and am smitten with a violent passion for the eldest Miss
Larkins, who is about thirty. She amuses herself with me as with a new
toy, wears my ring for a season, and then announces her engagement to a
Mr. Chestle. I am terribly dejected for a week or two, then I rally,
become a boy once more, fight the butcher again, gloriously defeat him,
and feel better,--and soon my school days draw to a close.
My aunt and I had many grave deliberations on the calling to which I
should devote myself, but could come to no conclusion, as I had no
particular liking that I could discover, for any profession. So my aunt
proposed that while I was thinking the matter over, I take a little trip,
a breathing spell, as it were.
"What I want you to be, Trot," said my aunt,--"I don't mean physically,
but morally; you are very well physically--is, a firm fellow, a fine, firm
fellow, with a will of your own, with determination. With character, Trot,
with strength of character that is not to be influenced, except on good
reason, by anybody, or by anything. That's what I want you to be."
I intimated that I hoped I should be what she described, and she added
that it was best for me to go on my trip alone, to learn to rely upon
myself.
So I was fitted out with a handsome purse of money, and tenderly dismissed
upon my expedition, promising to write three times a week, and to be back
in a month's time.
I went first to say farewell to Doctor Strong, and then took my seat on
the box of the London coach. It was interesting to be sitting up there,
behind four horses; well educated, well dressed, with plenty of money, and
to look out for the places where I had slept on my weary journey. I
stretched my neck eagerly, looking for old landmarks, and when we passed
Salem House I fairly tingled with emotion. At Charing Cross I stopped at
the Golden Cross, and as soon as I had taken a room, ordered my dinner,
trying to appear as old and dignified as possible. In the evening I went
to the Covent Garden Theatre, and saw Julius Caesar and a pantomime. It
was new to me, and the mingled reality and mystery of the whole show,
lights, music, company, and glittering scenery, were so dazzling that when
I went out at midnight into the rain, I felt as if I had been for a time
an inmate of another world, and was so excited that instead of going to my
room in the hotel I ordered some porter and oysters, and sat revolving the
glorious visions in my mind until past one o'clock. Presently, I began to
watch a young man near me whose face was very familiar. Finally, I rose,
and with a fast-beating heart said,
"Steerforth, won't you speak to me?"
He quickly glanced up, but there was no recognition in his face.
"My God," he suddenly exclaimed, "It's little Copperfield!"
Then ensued a violent shaking of hands, and a volley of questions on both
sides. He was studying at Oxford, but was on his way to visit his mother,
who lived just out of London. He was as handsome, and fascinating, and
gay, as ever, in fact quite bewilderingly so to me; and all those things
which I enjoyed, he pronounced dreadful bores, quite like a man of the
world. However, we got on famously, and when he invited me to go with him
to his home at Highgate, I accepted with pleasure, and spent a delightful
week there in the genteel, old-fashioned, quiet home. At the end of the
week, Steerforth decided to go with me to Yarmouth, so we travelled on
together to the inn there, and took rooms.
As early as possible the next day, I visited Peggotty. She did not
recognise me after our seven years' separation, but when at last it dawned
on her who I was, she cried, "My darling boy!" and we both burst into
tears, and were locked in one another's arms as though I were a child
again.
That evening Steerforth and I went to see Mr. Peggotty and my other
friends in the boat, and we were so warmly received that it was nearly
midnight when we took our leave. We stayed in Yarmouth for more than a
fortnight, and I made many pilgrimages to the dear haunts of my childhood,
particularly to that place where my mother and father lay, and mingled
with my sad thoughts were brighter ones, about my future--and of how in it
I was to become a man of whom they might have been proud.
At the end of the fortnight came a letter from Aunt Betsey, saying that
she had taken lodgings for a week in London, and that if I would join her,
we could discuss her latest plan for me, which was that I become a proctor
in Doctors' Commons.
I mentioned the plan to Steerforth, and he advised me to take kindly to
it, and by the time that I reached London I had made up my mind to do so.
My aunt was greatly pleased when I told her this, whereupon I proceeded to
add that my only objection to the plan lay in the great expense it would
be to article me,--a thousand pounds at least. I spoke of her past
liberality to me, and asked her whether I had not better choose some work
which required less expensive preliminaries.
For a time my aunt was deep in thought. Then she replied:
"Trot, my child, if I have any object in life, it is to provide for your
being a good, sensible, and happy man. I am bent upon it. It's in vain,
Trot, to recall the past, unless it has some influence upon the present.
Perhaps I might have been better friends with your father and mother. When
you came to me, a little runaway boy, perhaps I thought so. From that time
until now, Trot, you have ever been a credit to me, and a pride and
pleasure. I have no other claim upon my means,--and you are my adopted
child. Only be a loving child to me in my old age, and bear with my whims
and fancies, and you will do more for an old woman whose prime of life was
not so happy as it might have been, than ever that old woman did for you."
It was the first time I had heard my aunt refer to her past history. Her
quiet way of doing it would have exalted her in my respect and affection,
if anything could.
"All is agreed and understood between us now, Trot," she said, "and we
need talk of this no more. Give me a kiss, and we'll go to the Commons in
the morning."
And accordingly at noon the next day we made our way to Doctors' Commons,
interviewed Mr. Spenlow, of the firm of Spenlow and Jorkins, and I was
accepted on a month's probation as an articled clerk. Mr. Spenlow then
conducted me through the Court, that I might see what sort of a place it
was. Then my aunt and I set off in search of lodgings for me, and before
night I was the proud and happy owner of the key to a little set of
chambers in the Adelphi, conveniently situated near the Court, and to my
taste in all ways. Seeing how enraptured I was with them, my aunt took
them for a month, with the privilege of a year, made arrangements with the
landlady about meals and linen, and I was to take possession in two days;
during which time I saw Aunt Betsey safely started on her homeward journey
towards Dover, dreading to leave me, but exulting in the coming
discomfiture of the vagrant donkeys.
It was a wonderfully fine thing to have that lofty castle to myself, and
when I had taken possession and shut my outer door, I felt like Robinson
Crusoe, when he had got within his fortification, and pulled his ladder up
after him. I felt rich, powerful, old, and important, and when I walked
out about town, with the keys of my house in my pocket, and able to ask
any fellow to come home with me, without giving anybody any inconvenience,
I became a quite different personage than ever heretofore.
Whatever there was of happiness or of sorrow, of success or of failure, in
my later life, does not belong on these pages. The identity of the child,
and of the boy, David Copperfield is now forever merged in the personality
of--Trotwood Copperfield, Esquire, householder and Man.