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The morning had worn away in these inquiries, and I was sitting
on the step of an empty shop at a street corner, near the market-place,
deliberating upon wandering towards those other places which had
been mentioned, when a fly-driver, coming by with his carriage,
dropped a horsecloth. Something good-natured in the man's face,
as I handed it up, encouraged me to ask him if he could tell me
where Miss Trotwood lived; though I had asked the question so often,
that it almost died upon my lips.
'Trotwood,' said he. 'Let me see. I know the name, too. Old lady?'
'Yes,' I said, 'rather.'
'Pretty stiff in the back?' said he, making himself upright.
'Yes,' I said. 'I should think it very likely.'
'Carries a bag?' said he - 'bag with a good deal of room in it
- is gruffish, and comes down upon you, sharp?'
My heart sank within me as I acknowledged the undoubted accuracy
of this description.
'Why then, I tell you what,' said he. 'If you go up there,' pointing
with his whip towards the heights, 'and keep right on till you come
to some houses facing the sea, I think you'll hear of her. My opinion
is she won't stand anything, so here's a penny for you.'
I accepted the gift thankfully, and bought a loaf with it. Dispatching
this refreshment by the way, I went in the direction my friend had
indicated, and walked on a good distance without coming to the houses
he had mentioned. At length I saw some before me; and approaching
them, went into a little shop (it was what we used to call a general
shop, at home), and inquired if they could have the goodness to
tell me where Miss Trotwood lived. I addressed myself to a man behind
the counter, who was weighing some rice for a young woman; but the
latter, taking the inquiry to herself, turned round quickly.
'My mistress?' she said. 'What do you want with her, boy?'
'I want,' I replied, 'to speak to her, if you please.'
'To beg of her, you mean,' retorted the damsel.
'No,' I said, 'indeed.' But suddenly remembering that in truth
I came for no other purpose, I held my peace in confusion, and felt
my face burn.
MY aunt's handmaid, as I supposed she was from what she had said,
put her rice in a little basket and walked out of the shop; telling
me that I could follow her, if I wanted to know where Miss Trotwood
lived. I needed no second permission; though I was by this time
in such a state of consternation and agitation, that my legs shook
under me. I followed the young woman, and we soon came to a very
neat little cottage with cheerful bow-windows: in front of it, a
small square gravelled court or garden full of flowers, carefully
tended, and smelling deliciously.
'This is Miss Trotwood's,' said the young woman. 'Now you know;
and that's all I have got to say.' With which words she hurried
into the house, as if to shake off the responsibility of my appearance;
and left me standing at the garden-gate, looking disconsolately
over the top of it towards the parlour window, where a muslin curtain
partly undrawn in the middle, a large round green screen or fan
fastened on to the windowsill, a small table, and a great chair,
suggested to me that my aunt might be at that moment seated in awful
state.
My shoes were by this time in a woeful condition. The soles had
shed themselves bit by bit, and the upper leathers had broken and
burst until the very shape and form of shoes had departed from them.
My hat (which had served me for a night-cap, too) was so crushed
and bent, that no old battered handleless saucepan on a dunghill
need have been ashamed to vie with it. My shirt and trousers, stained
with heat, dew, grass, and the Kentish soil on which I had slept
- and torn besides - might have frightened the birds from my aunt's
garden, as I stood at the gate. My hair had known no comb or brush
since I left London. My face, neck, and hands, from unaccustomed
exposure to the air and sun, were burnt to a berry-brown. From head
to foot I was powdered almost as white with chalk and dust, as if
I had come out of a lime-kiln. In this plight, and with a strong
consciousness of it, I waited to introduce myself to, and make my
first impression on, my formidable aunt.
The unbroken stillness of the parlour window leading me to infer,
after a while, that she was not there, I lifted up my eyes to the
window above it, where I saw a florid, pleasant-looking gentleman,
with a grey head, who shut up one eye in a grotesque manner, nodded
his head at me several times, shook it at me as often, laughed,
and went away.
I had been discomposed enough before; but I was so much the more
discomposed by this unexpected behaviour, that I was on the point
of slinking off, to think how I had best proceed, when there came
out of the house a lady with her handkerchief tied over her cap,
and a pair of gardening gloves on her hands, wearing a gardening
pocket like a toll-man's apron, and carrying a great knife. I knew
her immediately to be Miss Betsey, for she came stalking out of
the house exactly as my poor mother had so often described her stalking
up our garden at Blunderstone Rookery.
'Go away!' said Miss Betsey, shaking her head, and making a distant
chop in the air with her knife. 'Go along! No boys here!'
I watched her, with my heart at my lips, as she marched to a
corner of her garden, and stooped to dig up some little root there.
Then, without a scrap of courage, but with a great deal of desperation,
I went softly in and stood beside her, touching her with my finger.
'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 flat down 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 with a movement of my hands, intended to show her my ragged
state, and call it to witness that I had suffered something, I broke
into a passion of crying, which I suppose had been pent up within
me all the week.
My aunt, with every sort of expression but wonder discharged
from her countenance, 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. When she had administered these restoratives, as
I was still quite hysterical, and unable to control my sobs, she
put me on the sofa, with a shawl under my head, and the handkerchief
from her own head under my feet, lest I should sully the cover;
and then, sitting herself down behind the green fan or screen I
have already mentioned, so that I could not see her face, ejaculated
at intervals, 'Mercy on us!' letting those exclamations off like
minute guns.
After a time she rang the bell. 'Janet,' said my aunt, when her
servant came in. 'Go upstairs, give my compliments to Mr. Dick,
and say I wish to speak to him.'
Janet looked a little surprised to see me lying stiffly on the
sofa (I was afraid to move lest it should be displeasing to my aunt),
but went on her errand. My aunt, with her hands behind her, walked
up and down the room, until the gentleman who had squinted at me
from the upper window came in laughing.
'Mr. Dick,' said my aunt, 'don't be a fool, because nobody can
be more discreet than you can, when you choose. We all know that.
So don't be a fool, whatever you are.'
The gentleman was serious immediately, and looked at me, I thought,
as if he would entreat me to say nothing about the window.
'Mr. Dick,' said my aunt, 'you have heard me mention David Copperfield?
Now don't pretend not to have a memory, because you and I know better.'
'David Copperfield?' said Mr. Dick, who did not appear to me
to remember much about it. 'David Copperfield? Oh yes, to be sure.
David, certainly.'
'Well,' said my aunt, 'this is his boy - his son. He would be
as like his father as it's possible to be, if he was not so like
his mother, too.'
'His son?' said Mr. Dick. 'David's son? Indeed!'
'Yes,' pursued my aunt, 'and he has done a pretty piece of business.
He has run away. Ah! His sister, Betsey Trotwood, never would have
run away.' My aunt shook her head firmly, confident in the character
and behaviour of the girl who never was born.
'Oh! you think she wouldn't have run away?' said Mr. Dick.
'Bless and save the man,' exclaimed my aunt, sharply, 'how he
talks! Don't I know she wouldn't? She would have lived with her
god-mother, and we should have been devoted to one another. Where,
in the name of wonder, should his sister, Betsey Trotwood, have
run from, or to?'
'Nowhere,' said Mr. Dick.
'Well then,' returned my aunt, softened by the reply, 'how can
you pretend to be wool-gathering, Dick, when you are as sharp as
a surgeon's lancet? Now, here you see young David Copperfield, and
the question I put to you is, what shall I do with him?'
'What shall you do with him?' said Mr. Dick, feebly, scratching
his head. 'Oh! do with him?'
'Yes,' said my aunt, with a grave look, and her forefinger held
up. 'Come! I want some very sound advice.'
'Why, if I was you,' said Mr. Dick, considering, and looking
vacantly at me, 'I should -' The contemplation of me seemed to inspire
him with a sudden idea, and he added, briskly, 'I should wash him!'
'Janet,' said my aunt, turning round with a quiet triumph, which
I did not then understand, 'Mr. Dick sets us all right. Heat the
bath!'
Although I was deeply interested in this dialogue, I could not
help observing my aunt, Mr. Dick, and Janet, while it was in progress,
and completing a survey I had already been engaged in making of
the room.
MY aunt was a tall, hard-featured lady, but by no means ill-looking.
There was an inflexibility in her face, in her voice, in her gait
and carriage, amply sufficient to account for the effect she had
made upon a gentle creature like my mother; but her features were
rather handsome than otherwise, though unbending and austere. I
particularly noticed that she had a very quick, bright eye. Her
hair, which was grey, was arranged in two plain divisions, under
what I believe would be called a mob-cap; I mean a cap, much more
common then than now, with side-pieces fastening under the chin.
Her dress was of a lavender colour, and perfectly neat; but scantily
made, as if she desired to be as little encumbered as possible.
I remember that I thought it, in form, more like a riding-habit
with the superfluous skirt cut off, than anything else. She wore
at her side a gentleman's gold watch, if I might judge from its
size and make, with an appropriate chain and seals; she had some
linen at her throat not unlike a shirt-collar, and things at her
wrists like little shirt-wristbands.
Mr. Dick, as I have already said, was grey-headed, and florid:
I should have said all about him, in saying so, had not his head
been curiously bowed - not by age; it reminded me of one of Mr.
Creakle's boys' heads after a beating - and his grey eyes prominent
and large, with a strange kind of watery brightness in them that
made me, in combination with his vacant manner, his submission to
my aunt, and his childish delight when she praised him, suspect
him of being a little mad; though, if he were mad, how he came to
be there puzzled me extremely. He was dressed like any other ordinary
gentleman, in a loose grey morning coat and waistcoat, and white
trousers; and had his watch in his fob, and his money in his pockets:
which he rattled as if he were very proud of it.
Janet was a pretty blooming girl, of about nineteen or twenty,
and a perfect picture of neatness. Though I made no further observation
of her at the moment, I may mention here what I did not discover
until afterwards, namely, that she was one of a series of protegees
whom my aunt had taken into her service expressly to educate in
a renouncement of mankind, and who had generally completed their
abjuration by marrying the baker.
The room was as neat as Janet or my aunt. As I laid down my pen,
a moment since, to think of it, the air from the sea came blowing
in again, mixed with the perfume of the flowers; and I saw the old-fashioned
furniture brightly rubbed and polished, my aunt's inviolable chair
and table by the round green fan in the bow-window, the drugget-covered
carpet, the cat, the kettle-holder, the two canaries, the old china,
the punchbowl full of dried rose-leaves, the tall press guarding
all sorts of bottles and pots, and, wonderfully out of keeping with
the rest, my dusty self upon the sofa, taking note of everything.
Janet had gone away to get the bath ready, when my aunt, to my
great alarm, became in one moment rigid with indignation, and had
hardly voice to cry out, 'Janet! Donkeys!'
Upon which, Janet came running up the stairs as if the house
were in flames, darted out on a little piece of green in front,
and warned off two saddle-donkeys, lady-ridden, that had presumed
to set hoof upon it; while my aunt, rushing out of the house, seized
the bridle of a third animal laden with a bestriding child, turned
him, led him forth from those sacred precincts, and boxed the ears
of the unlucky urchin in attendance who had dared to profane that
hallowed ground.
To this hour I don't 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 one great
outrage of her life, demanding to be constantly avenged, was the
passage of a donkey over that immaculate spot. In whatever occupation
she was engaged, however interesting to her the conversation in
which she was taking part, a donkey turned the current of her ideas
in a moment, and she was upon him straight. Jugs of water, and watering-pots,
were kept in secret places ready to be discharged on the offending
boys; sticks were laid in ambush behind the door; sallies were made
at all hours; and incessant war prevailed. Perhaps this was an agreeable
excitement to the donkey-boys; or perhaps the more sagacious of
the donkeys, understanding how the case stood, delighted with constitutional
obstinacy in coming that way. I only know that there were three
alarms before the bath was ready; and that on the occasion of the
last and most desperate of all, I saw my aunt engage, single-handed,
with a sandy-headed lad of fifteen, and bump his sandy head against
her own gate, before he seemed to comprehend what was the matter.
These interruptions were of the more ridiculous to me, because she
was giving me broth out of a table-spoon at the time (having firmly
persuaded herself that I was actually starving, and must receive
nourishment at first in very small quantities), and, while my mouth
was yet open to receive the spoon, she would put it back into the
basin, cry 'Janet! Donkeys!' and go out to the assault.
The bath was a great comfort. For I began to be sensible of acute
pains in my limbs from lying out in the fields, and was now so tired
and low that I could hardly keep myself awake for five minutes together.
When I had bathed, they (I mean my aunt and Janet) enrobed me in
a shirt and a pair of trousers belonging to Mr. Dick, and tied me
up in two or three great shawls. What sort of bundle I looked like,
I don't know, but I felt a very hot one. Feeling also very faint
and drowsy, I soon lay down on the sofa again and fell asleep.
It might have been a dream, originating in the fancy which had
occupied my mind so long, but I awoke with the impression that my
aunt had come and bent over me, and had put my hair away from my
face, and laid my head more comfortably, and had then stood looking
at me. The words, 'Pretty fellow,' or 'Poor fellow,' seemed to be
in my ears, too; but certainly there was nothing else, when I awoke,
to lead me to believe that they had been uttered by my aunt, who
sat in the bow-window gazing at the sea from behind the green fan,
which was mounted on a kind of swivel, and turned any way.
We dined soon after I awoke, off a roast fowl and a pudding;
I sitting at table, not unlike a trussed bird myself, and moving
my arms with considerable difficulty. But as my aunt had swathed
me up, I made no complaint of being inconvenienced. All this time
I was deeply anxious to know what she was going to do with me; but
she took her dinner in profound silence, except when she occasionally
fixed her eyes on me sitting opposite, and said, 'Mercy upon us!'
which did not by any means relieve my anxiety.
The cloth being drawn, and some sherry put upon the table (of
which I had a glass), my aunt sent up for Mr. Dick again, who joined
us, and looked as wise as he could when she requested him to attend
to my story, which she elicited from me, gradually, by a course
of questions. During my recital, she kept her eyes on Mr. Dick,
who I thought would have gone to sleep but for that, and who, whensoever
he lapsed into a smile, was checked by a frown from my aunt.
'Whatever possessed that poor unfortunate Baby, that she must
go and be married again,' said my aunt, when I had finished, 'I
can't conceive.'
'Perhaps she fell in love with her second husband,' Mr. Dick
suggested.
'Fell in love!' repeated my aunt. 'What do you mean? What business
had she to do it?'
'Perhaps,' Mr. Dick simpered, after thinking a little, 'she did
it for pleasure.'
'Pleasure, indeed!' replied my aunt. 'A mighty pleasure for the
poor Baby to fix her simple faith upon any dog of a fellow, certain
to ill-use her in some way or other. What did she propose to herself,
I should like to know! She had had one husband. She had seen David
Copperfield out of the world, who was always running after wax dolls
from his cradle. She had got a baby - oh, there were a pair of babies
when she gave birth to this child sitting here, that Friday night!
- and what more did she want?'
Mr. Dick secretly shook his head at me, as if he thought there
was no getting over this.
'She couldn't even have a baby like anybody else,' said my aunt.
'Where was this child's sister, Betsey Trotwood? Not forthcoming.
Don't tell me!'
Mr. Dick seemed quite frightened.
'That little man of a doctor, with his head on one side,' said
my aunt, 'Jellips, or whatever his name was, what was he about?
All he could do, was to say to me, like a robin redbreast - as he
is - "It's a boy." A boy! Yah, the imbecility of the whole
set of 'em!'
The heartiness of the ejaculation startled Mr. Dick exceedingly;
and me, too, if I am to tell the truth.
'And then, as if this was not enough, and she had not stood sufficiently
in the light of this child's sister, Betsey Trotwood,' said my aunt,
'she marries a second time - goes and marries a Murderer - or a
man with a name like it - and stands in THIS child's light! And
the natural consequence is, as anybody but a baby might have foreseen,
that he prowls and wanders. He's as like Cain before he was grown
up, as he can be.'
Mr. Dick looked hard at me, as if to identify me in this character.
'And then there's that woman with the Pagan name,' said my aunt,
'that Peggotty, she goes and gets married next. Because she has
not seen enough of the evil attending such things, she goes and
gets married next, as the child relates. I only hope,' said my aunt,
shaking her head, 'that her husband is one of those Poker husbands
who abound in the newspapers, and will beat her well with one.'
I could not bear to hear my old nurse so decried, and made the
subject of such a wish. I told my aunt that indeed she was mistaken.
That Peggotty was the best, the truest, the most faithful, most
devoted, and most self-denying friend and servant in the world;
who had ever loved me dearly, who had ever loved my mother dearly;
who had held my mother's dying head upon her arm, on whose face
my mother had imprinted her last grateful kiss. And my remembrance
of them both, choking me, I broke down as I was trying to say that
her home was my home, and that all she had was mine, and that I
would have gone to her for shelter, but for her humble station,
which made me fear that I might bring some trouble on her - I broke
down, I say, as I was trying to say so, and laid my face in my hands
upon the table.
'Well, well!' said my aunt, 'the child is right to stand by those
who have stood by him - Janet! Donkeys!'
I thoroughly believe that but for those unfortunate donkeys,
we should have come to a good understanding; for my aunt had laid
her hand on my shoulder, and the impulse was upon me, thus emboldened,
to embrace her and beseech her protection. But the interruption,
and the disorder she was thrown into by the struggle outside, put
an end to all softer ideas for the present, and kept my aunt indignantly
declaiming to Mr. Dick about her determination to appeal for redress
to the laws of her country, and to bring actions for trespass against
the whole donkey proprietorship of Dover, until tea-time.
After tea, we sat at the window - on the look-out, as I imagined,
from my aunt's sharp expression of face, for more invaders - until
dusk, when Janet set candles, and a backgammon-board, on the table,
and pulled down the blinds.
'Now, Mr. Dick,' said my aunt, with her grave look, and her forefinger
up as before, 'I am going to ask you another question. Look at this
child.'
'David's son?' said Mr. Dick, with an attentive, puzzled face.
'Exactly so,' returned my aunt. 'What would you do with him,
now?'
'Do with David's son?' said Mr. Dick.
'Ay,' replied my aunt, 'with David's son.'
'Oh!' said Mr. Dick. 'Yes. Do with - I should put him to bed.'
'Janet!' cried my aunt, with the same complacent triumph that
I had remarked before. 'Mr. Dick sets us all right. If the bed is
ready, we'll take him up to it.'
Janet reporting it to be quite ready, I was taken up to it; kindly,
but in some sort like a prisoner; my aunt going in front and Janet
bringing up the rear. The only circumstance which gave me any new
hope, was my aunt's stopping on the stairs to inquire about a smell
of fire that was prevalent there; and janet's replying that she
had been making tinder down in the kitchen, of my old shirt. But
there were no other clothes in my room than the odd heap of things
I wore; and when I was left there, with a little taper which my
aunt forewarned me would burn exactly five minutes, I heard them
lock my door on the outside. Turning these things over in my mind
I deemed it possible that my aunt, who could know nothing of me,
might suspect I had a habit of running away, and took precautions,
on that account, to have me in safe keeping.
The room was a pleasant one, at the top of the house, overlooking
the sea, on which the moon was shining brilliantly. After I had
said my prayers, and the candle had burnt out, I remember how I
still sat looking at the moonlight on the water, as if I could hope
to read my fortune in it, as in a bright book; or to see my mother
with her child, coming from Heaven, along that shining path, to
look upon me as she had looked when I last saw her sweet face. I
remember how the solemn feeling with which at length I turned my
eyes away, yielded to the sensation of gratitude and rest which
the sight of the white-curtained bed - and how much more the lying
softly down upon it, nestling in the snow-white sheets! - inspired.
I remember how I thought of all the solitary places under the night
sky where I had slept, and how I prayed that I never might be houseless
any more, and never might forget the houseless. I remember how I
seemed to float, then, down the melancholy glory of that track upon
the sea, away into the world of dreams.
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