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David Copperfield
CHAPTER 54 Mr. MICAWBER'S TRANSACTIONS
This is not the time at which I am to enter on the state of my mind
beneath its load of sorrow. I came to think that the Future was
walled up before me, that the energy and action of my life were at an
end, that I never could find any refuge but in the grave. I came to
think so, I say, but not in the first shock of my grief. It slowly
grew to that. If the events I go on to relate, had not thickened
around me, in the beginning to confuse, and in the end to augment, my
affliction, it is possible (though I think not probable), that I might
have fallen at once into this condition. As it was, an interval
occurred before I fully knew my own distress; an interval, in which I
even supposed that its sharpest pangs were past; and when my mind
could soothe itself by resting on all that was most innocent and
beautiful, in the tender story that was closed for ever.
When it was first proposed that I should go abroad, or how it came to
be agreed among us that I was to seek the restoration of my peace in
change and travel, I do not, even now, distinctly know. The spirit of
Agnes so pervaded all we thought, and said, and did, in that time of
sorrow, that I assume I may refer the project to her influence. But
her influence was so quiet that I know no more.
And now, indeed, I began to think that in my old association of her
with the stained-glass window in the church, a prophetic foreshadowing
of what she would be to me, in the calamity that was to happen in the
fullness of time, had found a way into my mind. In all that sorrow,
from the moment, never to be forgotten, when she stood before me with
her upraised hand, she was like a sacred presence in my lonely house.
When the Angel of Death alighted there, my child-wife fell asleep -
they told me so when I could bear to hear it - on her bosom, with a
smile. From my swoon, I first awoke to a consciousness of her
compassionate tears, her words of hope and peace, her gentle face
bending down as from a purer region nearer Heaven, over my
undisciplined heart, and softening its pain.
Let me go on.
I was to go abroad. That seemed to have been determined among us from
the first. The ground now covering all that could perish of my
departed wife, I waited only for what Mr. Micawber called the 'final
pulverization of Heep'; and for the departure of the emigrants.
At the request of Traddles, most affectionate and devoted of friends
in my trouble, we returned to Canterbury: I mean my aunt, Agnes, and
I. We proceeded by appointment straight to Mr. Micawber's house;
where, and at Mr. Wickfield's, my friend had been labouring ever since
our explosive meeting. When poor Mrs. Micawber saw me come in, in my
black clothes, she was sensibly affected. There was a great deal of
good in Mrs. Micawber's heart, which had not been dunned out of it in
all those many years.
'Well, Mr. and Mrs. Micawber,' was my aunt's first salutation after we
were seated. 'Pray, have you thought about that emigration proposal
of mine?'
'My dear madam,' returned Mr. Micawber, 'perhaps I cannot better
express the conclusion at which Mrs. Micawber, your humble servant,
and I may add our children, have jointly and severally arrived, than
by borrowing the language of an illustrious poet, to reply that our
Boat is on the shore, and our Bark is on the sea.'
'That's right,' said my aunt. 'I augur all sort of good from your
sensible decision.'
'Madam, you do us a great deal of honour,' he rejoined. He then
referred to a memorandum. 'With respect to the pecuniary assistance
enabling us to launch our frail canoe on the ocean of enterprise, I
have reconsidered that important business-point; and would beg to
propose my notes of hand - drawn, it is needless to stipulate, on
stamps of the amounts respectively required by the various Acts of
Parliament applying to such securities - at eighteen, twenty-four, and
thirty months. The proposition I originally submitted, was twelve,
eighteen, and twenty-four; but I am apprehensive that such an
arrangement might not allow sufficient time for the requisite amount
of - Something - to turn up. We might not,' said Mr. Micawber,
looking round the room as if it represented several hundred acres of
highly cultivated land, 'on the first responsibility becoming due,
have been successful in our harvest, or we might not have got our
harvest in. Labour, I believe, is sometimes difficult to obtain in
that portion of our colonial possessions where it will be our lot to
combat with the teeming soil.'
'Arrange it in any way you please, sir,' said my aunt.
'Madam,' he replied, 'Mrs. Micawber and myself are deeply sensible of
the very considerate kindness of our friends and patrons. What I wish
is, to be perfectly business-like, and perfectly punctual. Turning
over, as we are about to turn over, an entirely new leaf; and falling
back, as we are now in the act of falling back, for a Spring of no
common magnitude; it is important to my sense of self-respect, besides
being an example to my son, that these arrangements should be
concluded as between man and man.'
I don't know that Mr. Micawber attached any meaning to this last
phrase; I don't know that anybody ever does, or did; but he appeared
to relish it uncommonly, and repeated, with an impressive cough, 'as
between man and man'.
'I propose,' said Mr. Micawber, 'Bills - a convenience to the
mercantile world, for which, I believe, we are originally indebted to
the Jews, who appear to me to have had a devilish deal too much to do
with them ever since - because they are negotiable. But if a Bond, or
any other description of security, would be preferred, I should be
happy to execute any such instrument. As between man and man.'
MY aunt observed, that in a case where both parties were willing to
agree to anything, she took it for granted there would be no
difficulty in settling this point. Mr. Micawber was of her opinion.
'In reference to our domestic preparations, madam,' said Mr. Micawber,
with some pride, 'for meeting the destiny to which we are now
understood to be self-devoted, I beg to report them. My eldest
daughter attends at five every morning in a neighbouring
establishment, to acquire the process - if process it may be called -
of milking cows. My younger children are instructed to observe, as
closely as circumstances will permit, the habits of the pigs and
poultry maintained in the poorer parts of this city: a pursuit from
which they have, on two occasions, been brought home, within an inch
of being run over. I have myself directed some attention, during the
past week, to the art of baking; and my son Wilkins has issued forth
with a walking-stick and driven cattle, when permitted, by the rugged
hirelings who had them in charge, to render any voluntary service in
that direction - which I regret to say, for the credit of our nature,
was not often; he being generally warned, with imprecations, to
desist.'
'All very right indeed,' said my aunt, encouragingly. 'Mrs. Micawber
has been busy, too, I have no doubt.'
'My dear madam,' returned Mrs. Micawber, with her business-like air.
'I am free to confess that I have not been actively engaged in
pursuits immediately connected with cultivation or with stock, though
well aware that both will claim my attention on a foreign shore. Such
opportunities as I have been enabled to alienate from my domestic
duties, I have devoted to corresponding at some length with my family.
For I own it seems to me, my dear Mr. Copperfield,' said Mrs.
Micawber, who always fell back on me, I suppose from old habit, to
whomsoever else she might address her discourse at starting, 'that the
time is come when the past should be buried in oblivion; when my
family should take Mr. Micawber by the hand, and Mr. Micawber should
take my family by the hand; when the lion should lie down with the
lamb, and my family be on terms with Mr. Micawber.'
I said I thought so too.
'This, at least, is the light, my dear Mr. Copperfield,' pursued Mrs.
Micawber, 'in which I view the subject. When I lived at home with my
papa and mama, my papa was accustomed to ask, when any point was under
discussion in our limited circle, "In what light does my Emma view the
subject?" That my papa was too partial, I know; still, on such a point
as the frigid coldness which has ever subsisted between Mr. Micawber
and my family, I necessarily have formed an opinion, delusive though
it may be.'
'No doubt. Of course you have, ma'am,' said my aunt.
'Precisely so,' assented Mrs. Micawber. 'Now, I may be wrong in my
conclusions; it is very likely that I am, but my individual impression
is, that the gulf between my family and Mr. Micawber may be traced to
an apprehension, on the part of my family, that Mr. Micawber would
require pecuniary accommodation. I cannot help thinking,' said Mrs.
Micawber, with an air of deep sagacity, 'that there are members of my
family who have been apprehensive that Mr. Micawber would solicit them
for their names. - I do not mean to be conferred in Baptism upon our
children, but to be inscribed on Bills of Exchange, and negotiated in
the Money Market.'
The look of penetration with which Mrs. Micawber announced this
discovery, as if no one had ever thought of it before, seemed rather
to astonish my aunt; who abruptly replied, 'Well, ma'am, upon the
whole, I shouldn't wonder if you were right!'
'Mr. Micawber being now on the eve of casting off the pecuniary
shackles that have so long enthralled him,' said Mrs. Micawber, 'and
of commencing a new career in a country where there is sufficient
range for his abilities, - which, in my opinion, is exceedingly
important; Mr. Micawber's abilities peculiarly requiring space, - it
seems to me that my family should signalize the occasion by coming
forward. What I could wish to see, would be a meeting between Mr.
Micawber and my family at a festive entertainment, to be given at my
family's expense; where Mr. Micawber's health and prosperity being
proposed, by some leading member of my family, Mr. Micawber might have
an opportunity of developing his views.'
'My dear,' said Mr. Micawber, with some heat, 'it may be better for me
to state distinctly, at once, that if I were to develop my views to
that assembled group, they would possibly be found of an offensive
nature: my impression being that your family are, in the aggregate,
impertinent Snobs; and, in detail, unmitigated Ruffians.'
'Micawber,' said Mrs. Micawber, shaking her head, 'no! You have never
understood them, and they have never understood you.'
Mr. Micawber coughed.
'They have never understood you, Micawber,' said his wife. 'They may
be incapable of it. If so, that is their misfortune. I can pity
their misfortune.'
'I am extremely sorry, my dear Emma,' said Mr. Micawber, relenting,
'to have been betrayed into any expressions that might, even remotely,
have the appearance of being strong expressions. All I would say is,
that I can go abroad without your family coming forward to favour me,
- in short, with a parting Shove of their cold shoulders; and that,
upon the whole, I would rather leave England with such impetus as I
possess, than derive any acceleration of it from that quarter. At the
same time, my dear, if they should condescend to reply to your
communications - which our joint experience renders most improbable -
far be it from me to be a barrier to your wishes.'
The matter being thus amicably settled, Mr. Micawber gave Mrs.
Micawber his arm, and glancing at the heap of books and papers lying
before Traddles on the table, said they would leave us to ourselves;
which they ceremoniously did.
'My dear Copperfield,' said Traddles, leaning back in his chair when
they were gone, and looking at me with an affection that made his eyes
red, and his hair all kinds of shapes, 'I don't make any excuse for
troubling you with business, because I know you are deeply interested
in it, and it may divert your thoughts. My dear boy, I hope you are
not worn out?'
'I am quite myself,' said I, after a pause. 'We have more cause to
think of my aunt than of anyone. You know how much she has done.'
'Surely, surely,' answered Traddles. 'Who can forget it!'
'But even that is not all,' said I. 'During the last fortnight, some
new trouble has vexed her; and she has been in and out of London every
day. Several times she has gone out early, and been absent until
evening. Last night, Traddles, with this journey before her, it was
almost midnight before she came home. You know what her consideration
for others is. She will not tell me what has happened to distress
her.'
My aunt, very pale, and with deep lines in her face, sat immovable
until I had finished; when some stray tears found their way to her
cheeks, and she put her hand on mine.
'It's nothing, Trot; it's nothing. There will be no more of it. You
shall know by and by. Now Agnes, my dear, let us attend to these
affairs.'
'I must do Mr. Micawber the justice to say,' Traddles began, 'that
although he would appear not to have worked to any good account for
himself, he is a most untiring man when he works for other people. I
never saw such a fellow. If he always goes on in the same way, he
must be, virtually, about two hundred years old, at present. The heat
into which he has been continually putting himself; and the distracted
and impetuous manner in which he has been diving, day and night, among
papers and books; to say nothing of the immense number of letters he
has written me between this house and Mr. Wickfield's, and often
across the table when he has been sitting opposite, and might much
more easily have spoken; is quite extraordinary.'
'Letters!' cried my aunt. 'I believe he dreams in letters!'
'There's Mr. Dick, too,' said Traddles, 'has been doing wonders! As
soon as he was released from overlooking Uriah Heep, whom he kept in
such charge as I never saw exceeded, he began to devote himself to Mr.
Wickfield. And really his anxiety to be of use in the investigations
we have been making, and his real usefulness in extracting, and
copying, and fetching, and carrying, have been quite stimulating to
us.'
'Dick is a very remarkable man,' exclaimed my aunt; 'and I always said
he was. Trot, you know it.'
'I am happy to say, Miss Wickfield,' pursued Traddles, at once with
great delicacy and with great earnestness, 'that in your absence Mr.
Wickfield has considerably improved. Relieved of the incubus that had
fastened upon him for so long a time, and of the dreadful
apprehensions under which he had lived, he is hardly the same person.
At times, even his impaired power of concentrating his memory and
attention on particular points of business, has recovered itself very
much; and he has been able to assist us in making some things clear,
that we should have found very difficult indeed, if not hopeless,
without him. But what I have to do is to come to results; which are
short enough; not to gossip on all the hopeful circumstances I have
observed, or I shall never have done.' His natural manner and
agreeable simplicity made it transparent that he said this to put us
in good heart, and to enable Agnes to hear her father mentioned with
greater confidence; but it was not the less pleasant for that.
'Now, let me see,' said Traddles, looking among the papers on the
table. 'Having counted our funds, and reduced to order a great mass
of unintentional confusion in the first place, and of wilful confusion
and falsification in the second, we take it to be clear that Mr.
Wickfield might now wind up his business, and his agency-trust, and
exhibit no deficiency or defalcation whatever.'
'Oh, thank Heaven!' cried Agnes, fervently.
'But,' said Traddles, 'the surplus that would be left as his means of
support - and I suppose the house to be sold, even in saying this -
would be so small, not exceeding in all probability some hundreds of
pounds, that perhaps, Miss Wickfield, it would be best to consider
whether he might not retain his agency of the estate to which he has
so long been receiver. His friends might advise him, you know; now he
is free. You yourself, Miss Wickfield - Copperfield - I -'
'I have considered it, Trotwood,' said Agnes, looking to me, 'and I
feel that it ought not to be, and must not be; even on the
recommendation of a friend to whom I am so grateful, and owe so much.'
'I will not say that I recommend it,' observed Traddles. 'I think it
right to suggest it. No more.'
'I am happy to hear you say so,' answered Agnes, steadily, 'for it
gives me hope, almost assurance, that we think alike. Dear Mr.
Traddles and dear Trotwood, papa once free with honour, what could I
wish for! I have always aspired, if I could have released him from the
toils in which he was held, to render back some little portion of the
love and care I owe him, and to devote my life to him. It has been,
for years, the utmost height of my hopes. To take our future on
myself, will be the next great happiness - the next to his release
from all trust and responsibility - that I can know.'
'Have you thought how, Agnes?'
'Often! I am not afraid, dear Trotwood. I am certain of success. So
many people know me here, and think kindly of me, that I am certain.
Don't mistrust me. Our wants are not many. If I rent the dear old
house, and keep a school, I shall be useful and happy.'
The calm fervour of her cheerful voice brought back so vividly, first
the dear old house itself, and then my solitary home, that my heart
was too full for speech. Traddles pretended for a little while to be
busily looking among the papers.
'Next, Miss Trotwood,' said Traddles, 'that property of yours.'
'Well, sir,' sighed my aunt. 'All I have got to say about it is, that
if it's gone, I can bear it; and if it's not gone, I shall be glad to
get it back.'
'It was originally, I think, eight thousand pounds, Consols?' said
Traddles.
'Right!' replied my aunt.
'I can't account for more than five,' said Traddles, with an air of
perplexity.
'- thousand, do you mean?' inquired my aunt, with uncommon composure,
'or pounds?'
'Five thousand pounds,' said Traddles.
'It was all there was,' returned my aunt. 'I sold three, myself. One,
I paid for your articles, Trot, my dear; and the other two I have by
me. When I lost the rest, I thought it wise to say nothing about that
sum, but to keep it secretly for a rainy day. I wanted to see how you
would come out of the trial, Trot; and you came out nobly -
persevering, self-reliant, self-denying! So did Dick. Don't speak to
me, for I find my nerves a little shaken!'
Nobody would have thought so, to see her sitting upright, with her
arms folded; but she had wonderful self-command.
'Then I am delighted to say,' cried Traddles, beaming with joy, 'that
we have recovered the whole money!'
'Don't congratulate me, anybody!' exclaimed my aunt. 'How so, sir?'
'You believed it had been misappropriated by Mr. Wickfield?' said
Traddles.
'Of course I did,' said my aunt, 'and was therefore easily silenced.
Agnes, not a word!'
'And indeed,' said Traddles, 'it was sold, by virtue of the power of
management he held from you; but I needn't say by whom sold, or on
whose actual signature. It was afterwards pretended to Mr. Wickfield,
by that rascal, - and proved, too, by figures, - that he had possessed
himself of the money (on general instructions, he said) to keep other
deficiencies and difficulties from the light. Mr. Wickfield, being so
weak and helpless in his hands as to pay you, afterwards, several sums
of interest on a pretended principal which he knew did not exist, made
himself, unhappily, a party to the fraud.'
'And at last took the blame upon himself,' added my aunt; 'and wrote
me a mad letter, charging himself with robbery, and wrong unheard of.
Upon which I paid him a visit early one morning, called for a candle,
burnt the letter, and told him if he ever could right me and himself,
to do it; and if he couldn't, to keep his own counsel for his
daughter's sake. - If anybody speaks to me, I'll leave the house!'
We all remained quiet; Agnes covering her face.
'Well, my dear friend,' said my aunt, after a pause, 'and you have
really extorted the money back from him?'
'Why, the fact is,' returned Traddles, 'Mr. Micawber had so completely
hemmed him in, and was always ready with so many new points if an old
one failed, that he could not escape from us. A most remarkable
circumstance is, that I really don't think he grasped this sum even so
much for the gratification of his avarice, which was inordinate, as in
the hatred he felt for Copperfield. He said so to me, plainly. He
said he would even have spent as much, to baulk or injure
Copperfield.'
'Ha!' said my aunt, knitting her brows thoughtfully, and glancing at
Agnes. 'And what's become of him?'
'I don't know. He left here,' said Traddles, 'with his mother, who
had been clamouring, and beseeching, and disclosing, the whole time.
They went away by one of the London night coaches, and I know no more
about him; except that his malevolence to me at parting was audacious.
He seemed to consider himself hardly less indebted to me, than to Mr.
Micawber; which I consider (as I told him) quite a compliment.'
'Do you suppose he has any money, Traddles?' I asked.
'Oh dear, yes, I should think so,' he replied, shaking his head,
seriously. 'I should say he must have pocketed a good deal, in one
way or other. But, I think you would find, Copperfield, if you had an
opportunity of observing his course, that money would never keep that
man out of mischief. He is such an incarnate hypocrite, that whatever
object he pursues, he must pursue crookedly. It's his only
compensation for the outward restraints he puts upon himself. Always
creeping along the ground to some small end or other, he will always
magnify every object in the way; and consequently will hate and
suspect everybody that comes, in the most innocent manner, between him
and it. So the crooked courses will become crookeder, at any moment,
for the least reason, or for none. It's only necessary to consider
his history here,' said Traddles, 'to know that.'
'He's a monster of meanness!' said my aunt.
'Really I don't know about that,' observed Traddles thoughtfully.
'Many people can be very mean, when they give their minds to it.'
'And now, touching Mr. Micawber,' said my aunt.
'Well, really,' said Traddles, cheerfully, 'I must, once more, give
Mr. Micawber high praise. But for his having been so patient and
persevering for so long a time, we never could have hoped to do
anything worth speaking of. And I think we ought to consider that Mr.
Micawber did right, for right's sake, when we reflect what terms he
might have made with Uriah Heep himself, for his silence.'
'I think so too,' said I.
'Now, what would you give him?' inquired my aunt.
'Oh! Before you come to that,' said Traddles, a little disconcerted,
'I am afraid I thought it discreet to omit (not being able to carry
everything before me) two points, in making this lawless adjustment -
for it's perfectly lawless from beginning to end - of a difficult
affair. Those I.O.U.'s, and so forth, which Mr. Micawber gave him for
the advances he had -'
'Well! They must be paid,' said my aunt.
'Yes, but I don't know when they may be proceeded on, or where they
are,' rejoined Traddles, opening his eyes; 'and I anticipate, that,
between this time and his departure, Mr. Micawber will be constantly
arrested, or taken in execution.'
'Then he must be constantly set free again, and taken out of
execution,' said my aunt. 'What's the amount altogether?'
'Why, Mr. Micawber has entered the transactions - he calls them
transactions - with great form, in a book,' rejoined Traddles,
smiling; 'and he makes the amount a hundred and three pounds, five.'
'Now, what shall we give him, that sum included?' said my aunt.
'Agnes, my dear, you and I can talk about division of it afterwards.
What should it be? Five hundred pounds?'
Upon this, Traddles and I both struck in at once. We both recommended
a small sum in money, and the payment, without stipulation to Mr.
Micawber, of the Uriah claims as they came in. We proposed that the
family should have their passage and their outfit, and a hundred
pounds; and that Mr. Micawber's arrangement for the repayment of the
advances should be gravely entered into, as it might be wholesome for
him to suppose himself under that responsibility. To this, I added
the suggestion, that I should give some explanation of his character
and history to Mr. Peggotty, who I knew could be relied on; and that
to Mr. Peggotty should be quietly entrusted the discretion of
advancing another hundred. I further proposed to interest Mr.
Micawber in Mr. Peggotty, by confiding so much of Mr. Peggotty's story
to him as I might feel justified in relating, or might think
expedient; and to endeavour to bring each of them to bear upon the
other, for the common advantage. We all entered warmly into these
views; and I may mention at once, that the principals themselves did
so, shortly afterwards, with perfect good will and harmony.
Seeing that Traddles now glanced anxiously at my aunt again, I
reminded him of the second and last point to which he had adverted.
'You and your aunt will excuse me, Copperfield, if I touch upon a
painful theme, as I greatly fear I shall,' said Traddles, hesitating;
'but I think it necessary to bring it to your recollection. On the
day of Mr. Micawber's memorable denunciation a threatening allusion
was made by Uriah Heep to your aunt's - husband.'
My aunt, retaining her stiff position, and apparent composure,
assented with a nod.
'Perhaps,' observed Traddles, 'it was mere purposeless impertinence?'
'No,' returned my aunt.
'There was - pardon me - really such a person, and at all in his
power?' hinted Traddles.
'Yes, my good friend,' said my aunt.
Traddles, with a perceptible lengthening of his face, explained that
he had not been able to approach this subject; that it had shared the
fate of Mr. Micawber's liabilities, in not being comprehended in the
terms he had made; that we were no longer of any authority with Uriah
Heep; and that if he could do us, or any of us, any injury or
annoyance, no doubt he would.
My aunt remained quiet; until again some stray tears found their way
to her cheeks. 'You are quite right,' she said. 'It was very
thoughtful to mention it.'
'Can I - or Copperfield - do anything?' asked Traddles, gently.
'Nothing,' said my aunt. 'I thank you many times. Trot, my dear, a
vain threat! Let us have Mr. and Mrs. Micawber back. And don't any of
you speak to me!' With that she smoothed her dress, and sat, with her
upright carriage, looking at the door.
'Well, Mr. and Mrs. Micawber!' said my aunt, when they entered. 'We
have been discussing your emigration, with many apologies to you for
keeping you out of the room so long; and I'll tell you what
arrangements we propose.'
These she explained to the unbounded satisfaction of the family, -
children and all being then present, - and so much to the awakening of
Mr. Micawber's punctual habits in the opening stage of all bill
transactions, that he could not be dissuaded from immediately rushing
out, in the highest spirits, to buy the stamps for his notes of hand.
But, his joy received a sudden check; for within five minutes, he
returned in the custody of a sheriff 's officer, informing us, in a
flood of tears, that all was lost. We, being quite prepared for this
event, which was of course a proceeding of Uriah Heep's, soon paid the
money; and in five minutes more Mr. Micawber was seated at the table,
filling up the stamps with an expression of perfect joy, which only
that congenial employment, or the making of punch, could impart in
full completeness to his shining face. To see him at work on the
stamps, with the relish of an artist, touching them like pictures,
looking at them sideways, taking weighty notes of dates and amounts in
his pocket-book, and contemplating them when finished, with a high
sense of their precious value, was a sight indeed.
'Now, the best thing you can do, sir, if you'll allow me to advise
you,' said my aunt, after silently observing him, 'is to abjure that
occupation for evermore.'
'Madam,' replied Mr. Micawber, 'it is my intention to register such a
vow on the virgin page of the future. Mrs. Micawber will attest it.
I trust,' said Mr. Micawber, solemnly, 'that my son Wilkins will ever
bear in mind, that he had infinitely better put his fist in the fire,
than use it to handle the serpents that have poisoned the life-blood
of his unhappy parent!' Deeply affected, and changed in a moment to
the image of despair, Mr. Micawber regarded the serpents with a look
of gloomy abhorrence (in which his late admiration of them was not
quite subdued), folded them up and put them in his pocket.
This closed the proceedings of the evening. We were weary with sorrow
and fatigue, and my aunt and I were to return to London on the morrow.
It was arranged that the Micawbers should follow us, after effecting a
sale of their goods to a broker; that Mr. Wickfield's affairs should
be brought to a settlement, with all convenient speed, under the
direction of Traddles; and that Agnes should also come to London,
pending those arrangements. We passed the night at the old house,
which, freed from the presence of the Heeps, seemed purged of a
disease; and I lay in my old room, like a shipwrecked wanderer come
home.
We went back next day to my aunt's house - not to mine- and when she
and I sat alone, as of old, before going to bed, she said:
'Trot, do you really wish to know what I have had upon my mind
lately?'
'Indeed I do, aunt. If there ever was a time when I felt unwilling
that you should have a sorrow or anxiety which I could not share, it
is now.'
'You have had sorrow enough, child,' said my aunt, affectionately,
'without the addition of my little miseries. I could have no other
motive, Trot, in keeping anything from you.'
'I know that well,' said I. 'But tell me now.'
'Would you ride with me a little way tomorrow morning?' asked my aunt.
'Of course.'
'At nine,' said she. 'I'll tell you then, my dear.'
At nine, accordingly, we went out in a little chariot, and drove to
London. We drove a long way through the streets, until we came to one
of the large hospitals. Standing hard by the building was a plain
hearse. The driver recognized my aunt, and, in obedience to a motion
of her hand at the window, drove slowly off; we following.
'You understand it now, Trot,' said my aunt. 'He is gone!'
'Did he die in the hospital?'
'Yes.'
She sat immovable beside me; but, again I saw the stray tears on her
face.
'He was there once before,' said my aunt presently. 'He was ailing a
long time - a shattered, broken man, these many years. When he knew
his state in this last illness, he asked them to send for me. He was
sorry then. Very sorry.'
'You went, I know, aunt.'
'I went. I was with him a good deal afterwards.'
'He died the night before we went to Canterbury?' said I. My aunt
nodded. 'No one can harm him now,' she said. 'It was a vain threat.'
We drove away, out of town, to the churchyard at Hornsey. 'Better
here than in the streets,' said my aunt. 'He was born here.'
We alighted; and followed the plain coffin to a corner I remember
well, where the service was read consigning it to the dust.
'Six-and-thirty years ago, this day, my dear,' said my aunt, as we
walked back to the chariot, 'I was married. God forgive us all!' We
took our seats in silence; and so she sat beside me for a long time,
holding my hand. At length she suddenly burst into tears, and said:
'He was a fine-looking man when I married him, Trot - and he was sadly
changed!'
It did not last long. After the relief of tears, she soon became
composed, and even cheerful. Her nerves were a little shaken, she
said, or she would not have given way to it. God forgive us all!
So we rode back to her little cottage at Highgate, where we found the
following short note, which had arrived by that morning's post from
Mr. Micawber:
'Canterbury,
'Friday.
'My dear Madam, and Copperfield,
'The fair land of promise lately looming on the horizon is again
enveloped in impenetrable mists, and for ever withdrawn from the eyes
of a drifting wretch whose Doom is sealed!
'Another writ has been issued (in His Majesty's High Court of King's
Bench at Westminster), in another cause of HEEP V. MICAWBER, and the
defendant in that cause is the prey of the sheriff having legal
jurisdiction in this bailiwick.
'Now's the day, and now's the hour, See the front of battle lower, See
approach proud EDWARD'S power - Chains and slavery!
'Consigned to which, and to a speedy end (for mental torture is not
supportable beyond a certain point, and that point I feel I have
attained), my course is run. Bless you, bless you! Some future
traveller, visiting, from motives of curiosity, not unmingled, let us
hope, with sympathy, the place of confinement allotted to debtors in
this city, may, and I trust will, Ponder, as he traces on its wall,
inscribed with a rusty nail, 'The obscure initials,
'W. M.
'P.S. I re-open this to say that our common friend, Mr. Thomas
Traddles (who has not yet left us, and is looking extremely well), has
paid the debt and costs, in the noble name of Miss Trotwood; and that
myself and family are at the height of earthly bliss.'