"No, Copperfield," he said gravely. "That's not a dog; that's a boy.
My instructions are to put this sign on your back. I'm sorry to do so,
but must do it."
With that, he took me down, and tied the placard, which was neatly
constructed for the purpose, on my shoulders like a knapsack; and
wherever I went, afterwards, I had the consolation of carrying it.
What I suffered nobody can imagine. Whether it was possible for people
to see me or not, I always fancied that somebody was reading it. It was
no relief to turn round and find nobody; for wherever my back was, there
I imagined somebody always to be, until at last I positively began to
have a dread of myself as the boy who _did_ bite.
Mr. Creakle, the master of the school, was a short, thick-set man, and
bald on the top of his head. He had a little nose and large chin. He
had lost his voice and spoke almost in a whisper, which surprised me
greatly, for his face always looked angry, and the exertion of talking
made his thick veins stick out so that he looked angrier still.
When the boys began to come back I found my ordeal, on account of the
sign on my back, not quite so great as I had feared; and it was chiefly
on account of the first fellow to arrive, Tommy Traddles. Dear Tommy
Traddles! You made a friend of a poor, lonesome, frightened boy that
day, who will always be loyal to you so long as he lives.
Traddles was a jolly looking boy who laughed heartily when he first saw
the card, as at a great joke; and he saved me from any further shyness
by introducing me to every boy and saying gaily, "Look here! Here's a
game!" Happily, too, most of the boys came back low-spirited, and were
not very boisterous at my expense. Some of them certainly did dance
about me like wild Indians and could not resist patting me, lest I
should bite, and saying, "Lie down, sir!" and calling me Towzer. But on
the whole I got through rather easily.
I was not considered as being formally received into the school,
however, until J. Steerforth arrived. Before this boy, who was reputed
to be a great scholar, and was very good-looking, and at least
half-a-dozen years my senior, I was carried as before a magistrate. He
inquired, under a shed in the playground, into the particulars of my
punishment, and was pleased to express his opinion that it was "a jolly
shame"; for which I became bound to him ever afterwards.
Then Steerforth asked how much money I had; and when I told him, he
suggested that it was the proper thing for a new boy to stand treat to
the others. I agreed, but felt helpless; whereupon he kindly
volunteered to get the things for me and smuggle them into my room. I
was a little uneasy about spending my mother's half-crowns, but didn't
dare say so. I handed them over to him and he procured the feast and
laid it out on my bed, saying,
"There you are, young Copperfield, and a royal spread you've got!"
I couldn't think of doing the honors of the feast, at my time of life,
while he was by; my hand shook at the very thought of it. I begged him
to do me the favor of presiding; and my request being seconded by the
other boys he acceded to it, and sat upon my pillow, handing round the
viands with perfect fairness, I must say. As to me, I sat on his left
hand, and the rest were grouped about us, on the nearest beds and on the
floor.
How well I recollect our sitting there, talking in whispers, or their
talking, and my respectfully listening, I ought rather to say; the
moonlight falling a little way into the room, through the window,
painting a pale window on the floor, and the greater part of us in
shadow, except when Steerforth struck a match, when he wanted to look
for anything on the board, and shed a blue glare over us that was gone
directly.
I heard all kinds of things about the school. I heard that Mr. Creakle
was a tartar and thrashed the boys unmercifully--all except Steerforth,
upon whom he didn't dare lay his hand. I heard that Mr. Creakle was
very ignorant, and that Mr. Mell, who was not a bad sort of fellow, was
poorly paid. All this and much more I heard in the whispers of that
moonlit room, before we finally betook ourselves to bed.
From that time on, big handsome Steerforth took me under his protection,
and, for my part, I was his willing slave. I would tell him tales which
I had imbibed from my early reading, while he would help me do my sums
and keep the other boys from tormenting me. Why he, the fine head-boy,
should have taken notice of me at all, I don't know. But I remember I
all but worshipped him with his easy swagger and lordly air.
The other boy to whom I always owed allegiance was Traddles. Poor jolly
Traddles! In a tight, sky-blue suit that made his arms and legs look
like German sausages, he was at once the merriest and most miserable of
all boys. He was always being caned by that fierce Mr. Creakle, who
made all our backs tingle, except Steerforth's. After Traddles had got
his daily caning he would cheer up somehow and get comfort by drawing
skeletons all over his slate. He was always drawing these skeletons,
just as he was always getting caned. And they did comfort him somehow,
for presently he would begin to laugh again before his tears were dry.
He was very honorable, Traddles was, and held it as a solemn duty in the
boys to stand by one another. He suffered for this on several
occasions; and particularly once, when Steerforth laughed in church, and
the Beadle thought it was Traddles, and took him out. I see him now,
going away in custody, despised by the congregation. He never said who
was the real offender, though he smarted for it next day, and was
imprisoned so many hours that he came forth with a whole churchyard full
of skeletons swarming all over his Latin Dictionary. But he had his
reward. Steerforth said there was nothing of the sneak in Traddles, and
we all felt that to be the highest praise. For my part, I could have
gone through a good deal to have won such a reward.
Although Mr. Creakle's school was not noted for scholarship, I can
confess without vanity that I did make good progress. I was naturally
fond of books and a great reader; and now I had the first fair chance at
learning things. In this I found Mr. Mell, the quiet, gentle tutor, a
constant friend to me. I shall always remember him with gratitude.
But Steerforth, I am sorry to say, did not like the tutor and took no
pains to hide his poor opinion. Since many of the other boys followed
Steerforth's lead, poor Mr. Mell was not popular. Still, nothing
especial came of it until one memorable day when Mr. Creakle was absent.
The boys seized the chance to be uproarious, and Mr. Mell could not
control them. Finally even his patience was exhausted, and he sprang to
his feet and pounded his desk with a book.
"Silence!" he cried. "This noise must cease! It's maddening! How can
you treat me this way, boys?"
It was my book that he struck his desk with; and as I stood beside him,
following his eye as it glanced round the room, I saw the boys all stop,
some suddenly surprised, some half afraid, and some sorry perhaps.
Steerforth's place was at the bottom of the school, at the opposite end
of the long room. He was lounging with his back against the wall, and
his hands in his pockets, and looked at Mr. Mell with his mouth shut up
as if he were whistling, when Mr. Mell looked at him.
"Silence, Mr. Steerforth!" said Mr. Mell.
"Silence yourself," said Steerforth, turning red. "Whom are you talking
to?"
"Sit down," said Mr. Mell.
"Sit down yourself," said Steerforth, "and mind your business."
There was a titter, and some applause; but Mr. Mell was so white that
there was silence.
"If you think, Steerforth," said Mr. Mell, "that you can make use of
your position of favoritism here to disobey rules and insult a
gentleman--"
"A what?--where is he?" said Steerforth.
Here somebody cried out, "Shame, J. Steerforth! Too bad!" It was
Traddles, whom Mr. Mell instantly routed by bidding him hold his tongue.
--"To insult one who is not fortunate in life, sir, and who never gave
you the least offence," continued Mr. Mell, his lip trembling, "you
commit a mean and base action. You can sit down or stand up as you
please, sir. Copperfield, go on."
"Young Copperfield," said Steerforth, coming forward, "stop a bit. I
tell you what, Mr. Mell, once for all. When you take the liberty of
calling men mean and base, or anything of that sort, you are an impudent
beggar. You are always a beggar, you know; but when you do that, you
are an impudent beggar."
I am not clear whether he was going to strike Mr. Mell, or Mr. Mell was
going to strike him, or there was any such intention on either side. I
saw a rigidity come upon the whole school as if they had been turned
into stone, and found Mr. Creakle in the midst of us. Mr. Mell, with his
elbows on his desk and his face in his hands, sat for some moments quite
still.
"Mr. Mell," said Mr. Creakle, shaking him by the arm; and his whisper
was very audible now; "you have not forgotten yourself, I hope?"
"No, sir," said Mr. Mell.
Mr. Creakle looked hard at him and then turned to Steerforth.
"Now, sir, will you tell me what this is about?"
Steerforth evaded the question for a little while; looking in scorn and
anger on his opponent, and remaining silent. I could not help thinking
what a fine-looking fellow he was, and how homely and plain Mr. Mell
looked opposed to him.
"What did he mean by talking about favorites, then?" said Steerforth at
length.
"Favorites?" repeated Mr. Creakle, with the veins in his forehead
swelling quickly. "Who talked about favorites?"
"He did," said Steerforth.
"And pray, what did you mean by that, sir?" demanded Mr. Creakle,
turning angrily on his assistant.
"I meant, Mr. Creakle," he returned, in a low voice, "as I said; that no
pupil had a right to avail himself of his position of favoritism to
degrade me."
"To degrade _you_?" said Mr. Creakle. "My stars! But give me leave to
ask you, Mr. What's your name, whether, when you talk about favorites,
you showed proper respect to me? To me, sir," said Mr. Creakle, darting
his head at him suddenly and drawing it back again, "the principal of
this establishment and your employer."
"It was not judicious, sir, I am willing to admit," said Mr. Mell. "I
should not have done so if I had been cool."
Here Steerforth struck in.
"Then he said I was mean, and then he said I was base, and then I called
him a beggar. If _I_ had been cool, perhaps I shouldn't have called him
a beggar. But I did, and I am ready to take the consequences of it."
Without considering, perhaps, whether there were any consequences to be
taken, I felt quite in a glow at this gallant speech. It made an
impression on the boys, too, for there was a low stir among them, though
no one spoke a word.
"I am surprised, Steerforth,--although your candor does you honor," said
Mr. Creakle, "does you honor, certainly,--I am surprised, Steerforth, I
must say, that you should attach such an epithet to any person employed
and paid in Salem House, sir."
Steerforth gave a short laugh.
"That's not an answer, sir," said Mr. Creakle, "to my remark. I expect
more than that from you, Steerforth."
If Mr. Mell looked homely in my eyes before the handsome boy, it would
be quite impossible to say how homely Mr. Creakle looked.
"Let him deny it," said Steerforth.
"Deny that he is a beggar, Steerforth?" cried Mr. Creakle. "Why, where
does he go a begging?"
"If he is not a beggar himself, his near relation's one," said
Steerforth. "It's all the same."
"What do you mean?"
"Since you expect me, Mr. Creakle, to justify myself," said Steerforth,
"and to say what I mean,--what I have to say is, that his mother lives
on charity in an almshouse."
Mr. Creakle turned to his assistant with a severe frown and labored
politeness:
"Now you hear what this gentleman says, Mr. Mell. Have the goodness, if
you please, to set him right before the assembled school."
"He is right, sir, without correction," returned Mr. Mell, in the midst
of a dead silence; "what he has said is true."
"Be so good then as to declare publicly, will you," said Mr. Creakle,
putting his head on one side and rolling his eyes round the school,
"whether it ever came to my knowledge until this moment?"
"I believe not directly," he returned.
"Why, you _know_ not," said Mr. Creakle. "Don't you, man?"
"Sir, I think you knew my circumstances when I came here, and that a
bare living wage--"
"I think, if you come to that," said Mr. Creakle, with his veins
swelling again bigger than ever, "that you've been in a wrong position
altogether, and mistook this for a charity school. Mr. Mell, we'll part
if you please. The sooner the better."
"There is no time," answered Mr. Mell, rising, "like the present."
"Sir, to you!" said Mr. Creakle.
"I take my leave of you, Mr. Creakle, and of all of you," said Mr. Mell,
glancing round the room and patting me gently on the shoulder. "James
Steerforth, the best wish I can leave you is that you may come to be
ashamed of what you have done to-day. At present I would prefer to see
you anything rather than a friend to me or to any one in whom I feel an
interest."
Then Mr. Mell walked out with his property under his arm.
Mr. Creakle made a speech, in which he thanked Steerforth for asserting
(though perhaps too warmly) the independence and respectability of Salem
House; and which he wound up by shaking hands with Steerforth, while we
gave three cheers,--I did not quite know what for, but I suppose for
Steerforth, and so joined in them ardently, though I felt miserable. Mr.
Creakle then caned Tommy Traddles for being discovered in tears instead
of cheers on account of Mr. Mell's departure: and went back to his sofa
or wherever he had come from.
When he had gone there was an awkward silence. Somehow we all felt
uncomfortable or ashamed. As for Steerforth, he said he was angry with
Traddles and glad he had caught it.
Poor Traddles, who was relieving himself as usual with a burst of
skeletons, said he didn't care. Mr. Mell was ill-used.
"Who has ill-used him, you girl?" said Steerforth.
"Why, _you_ have," returned Traddles.
"What have I done?" said Steerforth.
"What have you done?" retorted Traddles.
"Hurt his feelings and lost him his situation."
"His feelings!" repeated Steerforth, disdainfully. "His feelings will
soon get the better of it, I'll be bound. His feelings are not like
yours, Miss Traddles. As to his situation,--which was a precious one,
wasn't it?--do you suppose I am not going to write home and take care
that he gets some money? Polly?"
We thought this intention very noble in Steerforth, whose mother was a
widow, and rich, and would do almost anything, it was said, that he
asked her. We were all extremely glad to see Traddles so put down, and
exalted Steerforth to the skies. But as I look back at it now, I should
rather have been Traddles that day than any other boy in the room. And
I think the other boys will say so too.
I pass over all that happened at school, until the anniversary of my
birthday came round in March. Except that Steerforth was more to be
admired than ever, I remember nothing. He was going away at the end of
the half-year, if not sooner, and was more spirited and independent than
ever; but beyond this I remember nothing. The great event by which that
time is marked in my mind, seems to have swallowed up all lesser
recollections, and to exist alone.
It was after breakfast, and we had been summoned in from the playground,
when Mr. Creakle entered and said:
"David Copperfield is to go into the parlor."
I expected a hamper from Peggotty, and brightened at the order. Some of
the boys about me put in their claim not to be forgotten in the
distribution of the good things, as I got out of my seat with great
alacrity. But when I reached the parlor I saw no one except Mrs.
Creakle, who held an open letter in her hand and looked at me gravely.
"You are too young to know how the world changes every day," said Mrs.
Creakle, "and how the people in it pass away. But we all have to learn
it, David; some of us when we are young, some of us when we are old,
some of us at all times of our lives."