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I AM A NEW BOY IN MORE SENSES THAN ONE
Next morning, after breakfast, I entered on school life again.
I went, accompanied by Mr. Wickfield, to the scene of my future
studies - a grave building in a courtyard, with a learned air about
it that seemed very well suited to the stray rooks and jackdaws
who came down from the Cathedral towers to walk with a clerkly bearing
on the grass-plot - and was introduced to my new master, Doctor
Strong.
Doctor Strong looked almost as rusty, to my thinking, as the
tall iron rails and gates outside the house; and almost as stiff
and heavy as the great stone urns that flanked them, and were set
up, on the top of the red-brick wall, at regular distances all round
the court, like sublimated skittles, for Time to play at. He was
in his library (I mean Doctor Strong was), with his clothes not
particularly well brushed, and his hair not particularly well combed;
his knee-smalls unbraced; his long black gaiters unbuttoned; and
his shoes yawning like two caverns on the hearth-rug. Turning upon
me a lustreless eye, that reminded me of a long-forgotten blind
old horse who once used to crop the grass, and tumble over the graves,
in Blunderstone churchyard, he said he was glad to see me: and then
he gave me his hand; which I didn't know what to do with, as it
did nothing for itself.
But, sitting at work, not far from Doctor Strong, was a very
pretty young lady - whom he called Annie, and who was his daughter,
I supposed - who got me out of my difficulty by kneeling down to
put Doctor Strong's shoes on, and button his gaiters, which she
did with great cheerfulness and quickness. When she had finished,
and we were going out to the schoolroom, I was much surprised to
hear Mr. Wickfield, in bidding her good morning, address her as
'Mrs. Strong'; and I was wondering could she be Doctor Strong's
son's wife, or could she be Mrs. Doctor Strong, when Doctor Strong
himself unconsciously enlightened me.
'By the by, Wickfield,' he said, stopping in a passage with his
hand on my shoulder; 'you have not found any suitable provision
for my wife's cousin yet?'
'No,' said Mr. Wickfield. 'No. Not yet.'
'I could wish it done as soon as it can be done, Wickfield,'
said Doctor Strong, 'for Jack Maldon is needy, and idle; and of
those two bad things, worse things sometimes come. What does Doctor
Watts say,' he added, looking at me, and moving his head to the
time of his quotation, '"Satan finds some mischief still, for
idle hands to do."'
'Egad, Doctor,' returned Mr. Wickfield, 'if Doctor Watts knew
mankind, he might have written, with as much truth, "Satan
finds some mischief still, for busy hands to do." The busy
people achieve their full share of mischief in the world, you may
rely upon it. What have the people been about, who have been the
busiest in getting money, and in getting power, this century or
two? No mischief?'
'Jack Maldon will never be very busy in getting either, I expect,'
said Doctor Strong, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
'Perhaps not,' said Mr. Wickfield; 'and you bring me back to
the question, with an apology for digressing. No, I have not been
able to dispose of Mr. Jack Maldon yet. I believe,' he said this
with some hesitation, 'I penetrate your motive, and it makes the
thing more difficult.'
'My motive,' returned Doctor Strong, 'is to make some suitable
provision for a cousin, and an old playfellow, of Annie's.'
'Yes, I know,' said Mr. Wickfield; 'at home or abroad.'
'Aye!' replied the Doctor, apparently wondering why he emphasized
those words so much. 'At home or abroad.'
'Your own expression, you know,' said Mr. Wickfield. 'Or abroad.'
'Surely,' the Doctor answered. 'Surely. One or other.'
'One or other? Have you no choice?' asked Mr. Wickfield.
'No,' returned the Doctor.
'No?' with astonishment.
'Not the least.'
'No motive,' said Mr. Wickfield, 'for meaning abroad, and not
at home?'
'No,' returned the Doctor.
'I am bound to believe you, and of course I do believe you,'
said Mr. Wickfield. 'It might have simplified my office very much,
if I had known it before. But I confess I entertained another impression.'
Doctor Strong regarded him with a puzzled and doubting look,
which almost immediately subsided into a smile that gave me great
encouragement; for it was full of amiability and sweetness, and
there was a simplicity in it, and indeed in his whole manner, when
the studious, pondering frost upon it was got through, very attractive
and hopeful to a young scholar like me. Repeating 'no', and 'not
the least', and other short assurances to the same purport, Doctor
Strong jogged on before us, at a queer, uneven pace; and we followed:
Mr. Wickfield, looking grave, I observed, and shaking his head to
himself, without knowing that I saw him.
The schoolroom was a pretty large hall, on the quietest side
of the house, confronted by the stately stare of some half-dozen
of the great urns, and commanding a peep of an old secluded garden
belonging to the Doctor, where the peaches were ripening on the
sunny south wall. There were two great aloes, in tubs, on the turf
outside the windows; the broad hard leaves of which plant (looking
as if they were made of painted tin) have ever since, by association,
been symbolical to me of silence and retirement. About five-and-twenty
boys were studiously engaged at their books when we went in, but
they rose to give the Doctor good morning, and remained standing
when they saw Mr. Wickfield and me.
'A new boy, young gentlemen,' said the Doctor; 'Trotwood Copperfield.'
One Adams, who was the head-boy, then stepped out of his place
and welcomed me. He looked like a young clergyman, in his white
cravat, but he was very affable and good-humoured; and he showed
me my place, and presented me to the masters, in a gentlemanly way
that would have put me at my ease, if anything could.
It seemed to me so long, however, since I had been among such
boys, or among any companions of my own age, except Mick Walker
and Mealy Potatoes, that I felt as strange as ever I have done in
my life. I was so conscious of having passed through scenes of which
they could have no knowledge, and of having acquired experiences
foreign to my age, appearance, and condition as one of them, that
I half believed it was an imposture to come there as an ordinary
little schoolboy. I had become, in the Murdstone and Grinby time,
however short or long it may have been, so unused to the sports
and games of boys, that I knew I was awkward and inexperienced in
the commonest things belonging to them. Whatever I had learnt, had
so slipped away from me in the sordid cares of my life from day
to night, that now, when I was examined about what I knew, I knew
nothing, and was put into the lowest form of the school. But, troubled
as I was, by my want of boyish skill, and of book-learning too,
I was made infinitely more uncomfortable by the consideration, that,
in what I did know, I was much farther removed from my companions
than in what I did not. My mind ran upon what they would think,
if they knew of my familiar acquaintance with the King's Bench Prison?
Was there anything about me which would reveal my proceedings in
connexion with the Micawber family - all those pawnings, and sellings,
and suppers - in spite of myself? Suppose some of the boys had seen
me coming through Canterbury, wayworn and ragged, and should find
me out? What would they say, who made so light of money, if they
could know how I had scraped my halfpence together, for the purchase
of my daily saveloy and beer, or my slices of pudding? How would
it affect them, who were so innocent of London life, and London
streets, to discover how knowing I was (and was ashamed to be) in
some of the meanest phases of both? All this ran in my head so much,
on that first day at Doctor Strong's, that I felt distrustful of
my slightest look and gesture; shrunk within myself whensoever I
was approached by one of my new schoolfellows; and hurried off the
minute school was over, afraid of committing myself in my response
to any friendly notice or advance.
But there was such an influence in Mr. Wickfield's old house,
that when I knocked at it, with my new school-books under my arm,
I began to feel my uneasiness softening away. As I went up to my
airy old room, the grave shadow of the staircase seemed to fall
upon my doubts and fears, and to make the past more indistinct.
I sat there, sturdily conning my books, until dinner-time (we were
out of school for good at three); and went down, hopeful of becoming
a passable sort of boy yet.
Agnes was in the drawing-room, waiting for her father, who was
detained by someone in his office. She met me with her pleasant
smile, and asked me how I liked the school. I told her I should
like it very much, I hoped; but I was a little strange to it at
first.
'You have never been to school,' I said, 'have you?' 'Oh yes!
Every day.'
'Ah, but you mean here, at your own home?'
'Papa couldn't spare me to go anywhere else,' she answered, smiling
and shaking her head. 'His housekeeper must be in his house, you
know.'
'He is very fond of you, I am sure,' I said.
She nodded 'Yes,' and went to the door to listen for his coming
up, that she might meet him on the stairs. But, as he was not there,
she came back again.
'Mama has been dead ever since I was born,' she said, in her
quiet way. 'I only know her picture, downstairs. I saw you looking
at it yesterday. Did you think whose it was?'
I told her yes, because it was so like herself.
'Papa says so, too,' said Agnes, pleased. 'Hark! That's papa
now!'
Her bright calm face lighted up with pleasure as she went to
meet him, and as they came in, hand in hand. He greeted me cordially;
and told me I should certainly be happy under Doctor Strong, who
was one of the gentlest of men.
'There may be some, perhaps - I don't know that there are - who
abuse his kindness,' said Mr. Wickfield. 'Never be one of those,
Trotwood, in anything. He is the least suspicious of mankind; and
whether that's a merit, or whether it's a blemish, it deserves consideration
in all dealings with the Doctor, great or small.'
He spoke, I thought, as if he were weary, or dissatisfied with
something; but I did not pursue the question in my mind, for dinner
was just then announced, and we went down and took the same seats
as before.
We had scarcely done so, when Uriah Heep put in his red head
and his lank hand at the door, and said:
'Here's Mr. Maldon begs the favour of a word, sir.'
'I am but this moment quit of Mr. Maldon,' said his master.
'Yes, sir,' returned Uriah; 'but Mr. Maldon has come back, and
he begs the favour of a word.'
As he held the door open with his hand, Uriah looked at me, and
looked at Agnes, and looked at the dishes, and looked at the plates,
and looked at every object in the room, I thought, - yet seemed
to look at nothing; he made such an appearance all the while of
keeping his red eyes dutifully on his master. 'I beg your pardon.
It's only to say, on reflection,' observed a voice behind Uriah,
as Uriah's head was pushed away, and the speaker's substituted -
'pray excuse me for this intrusion - that as it seems I have no
choice in the matter, the sooner I go abroad the better. My cousin
Annie did say, when we talked of it, that she liked to have her
friends within reach rather than to have them banished, and the
old Doctor -'
'Doctor Strong, was that?' Mr. Wickfield interposed, gravely.
'Doctor Strong, of course,' returned the other; 'I call him the
old Doctor; it's all the same, you know.'
'I don't know,' returned Mr. Wickfield.
'Well, Doctor Strong,' said the other - 'Doctor Strong was of
the same mind, I believed. But as it appears from the course you
take with me he has changed his mind, why there's no more to be
said, except that the sooner I am off, the better. Therefore, I
thought I'd come back and say, that the sooner I am off the better.
When a plunge is to be made into the water, it's of no use lingering
on the bank.'
'There shall be as little lingering as possible, in your case,
Mr. Maldon, you may depend upon it,' said Mr. Wickfield.
'Thank'ee,' said the other. 'Much obliged. I don't want to look
a gift-horse in the mouth, which is not a gracious thing to do;
otherwise, I dare say, my cousin Annie could easily arrange it in
her own way. I suppose Annie would only have to say to the old Doctor
-'
'Meaning that Mrs. Strong would only have to say to her husband
- do I follow you?' said Mr. Wickfield.
'Quite so,' returned the other, '- would only have to say, that
she wanted such and such a thing to be so and so; and it would be
so and so, as a matter of course.' 'And why as a matter of course,
Mr. Maldon?' asked Mr. Wickfield, sedately eating his dinner.
'Why, because Annie's a charming young girl, and the old Doctor
- Doctor Strong, I mean - is not quite a charming young boy,' said
Mr. Jack Maldon, laughing. 'No offence to anybody, Mr. Wickfield.
I only mean that I suppose some compensation is fair and reasonable
in that sort of marriage.'
'Compensation to the lady, sir?' asked Mr. Wickfield gravely.
'To the lady, sir,' Mr. Jack Maldon answered, laughing. But appearing
to remark that Mr. Wickfield went on with his dinner in the same
sedate, immovable manner, and that there was no hope of making him
relax a muscle of his face, he added: 'However, I have said what
I came to say, and, with another apology for this intrusion, I may
take myself off. Of course I shall observe your directions, in considering
the matter as one to be arranged between you and me solely, and
not to be referred to, up at the Doctor's.'
'Have you dined?' asked Mr. Wickfield, with a motion of his hand
towards the table.
'Thank'ee. I am going to dine,' said Mr. Maldon, 'with my cousin
Annie. Good-bye!'
Mr. Wickfield, without rising, looked after him thoughtfully
as he went out. He was rather a shallow sort of young gentleman,
I thought, with a handsome face, a rapid utterance, and a confident,
bold air. And this was the first I ever saw of Mr. Jack Maldon;
whom I had not expected to see so soon, when I heard the Doctor
speak of him that morning.
When we had dined, we went upstairs again, where everything went
on exactly as on the previous day. Agnes set the glasses and decanters
in the same corner, and Mr. Wickfield sat down to drink, and drank
a good deal. Agnes played the piano to him, sat by him, and worked
and talked, and played some games at dominoes with me. In good time
she made tea; and afterwards, when I brought down my books, looked
into them, and showed me what she knew of them (which was no slight
matter, though she said it was), and what was the best way to learn
and understand them. I see her, with her modest, orderly, placid
manner, and I hear her beautiful calm voice, as I write these words.
The influence for all good, which she came to exercise over me at
a later time, begins already to descend upon my breast. I love little
Em'ly, and I don't love Agnes - no, not at all in that way - but
I feel that there are goodness, peace, and truth, wherever Agnes
is; and that the soft light of the coloured window in the church,
seen long ago, falls on her always, and on me when I am near her,
and on everything around.
The time having come for her withdrawal for the night, and she
having left us, I gave Mr. Wickfield my hand, preparatory to going
away myself. But he checked me and said: 'Should you like to stay
with us, Trotwood, or to go elsewhere?'
'To stay,' I answered, quickly.
'You are sure?'
'If you please. If I may!'
'Why, it's but a dull life that we lead here, boy, I am afraid,'
he said.
'Not more dull for me than Agnes, sir. Not dull at all!'
'Than Agnes,' he repeated, walking slowly to the great chimney-piece,
and leaning against it. 'Than Agnes!'
He had drank wine that evening (or I fancied it), until his eyes
were bloodshot. Not that I could see them now, for they were cast
down, and shaded by his hand; but I had noticed them a little while
before.
'Now I wonder,' he muttered, 'whether my Agnes tires of me. When
should I ever tire of her! But that's different, that's quite different.'
He was musing, not speaking to me; so I remained quiet.
'A dull old house,' he said, 'and a monotonous life; but I must
have her near me. I must keep her near me. If the thought that I
may die and leave my darling, or that my darling may die and leave
me, comes like a spectre, to distress my happiest hours, and is
only to be drowned in -'
He did not supply the word; but pacing slowly to the place where
he had sat, and mechanically going through the action of pouring
wine from the empty decanter, set it down and paced back again.
'If it is miserable to bear, when she is here,' he said, 'what
would it be, and she away? No, no, no. I cannot try that.'
He leaned against the chimney-piece, brooding so long that I
could not decide whether to run the risk of disturbing him by going,
or to remain quietly where I was, until he should come out of his
reverie. At length he aroused himself, and looked about the room
until his eyes encountered mine.
'Stay with us, Trotwood, eh?' he said in his usual manner, and
as if he were answering something I had just said. 'I am glad of
it. You are company to us both. It is wholesome to have you here.
Wholesome for me, wholesome for Agnes, wholesome perhaps for all
of us.'
'I am sure it is for me, sir,' I said. 'I am so glad to be here.'
'That's a fine fellow!' said Mr. Wickfield. 'As long as you are
glad to be here, you shall stay here.' He shook hands with me upon
it, and clapped me on the back; and told me that when I had anything
to do at night after Agnes had left us, or when I wished to read
for my own pleasure, I was free to come down to his room, if he
were there and if I desired it for company's sake, and to sit with
him. I thanked him for his consideration; and, as he went down soon
afterwards, and I was not tired, went down too, with a book in my
hand, to avail myself, for half-an-hour, of his permission.
But, seeing a light in the little round office, and immediately
feeling myself attracted towards Uriah Heep, who had a sort of fascination
for me, I went in there instead. I found Uriah reading a great fat
book, with such demonstrative attention, that his lank forefinger
followed up every line as he read, and made clammy tracks along
the page (or so I fully believed) like a snail.
'You are working late tonight, Uriah,' says I.
'Yes, Master Copperfield,' says Uriah.
As I was getting on the stool opposite, to talk to him more conveniently,
I observed that he had not such a thing as a smile about him, and
that he could only widen his mouth and make two hard creases down
his cheeks, one on each side, to stand for one.
'I am not doing office-work, Master Copperfield,' said Uriah.
'What work, then?' I asked.
'I am improving my legal knowledge, Master Copperfield,' said
Uriah. 'I am going through Tidd's Practice. Oh, what a writer Mr.
Tidd is, Master Copperfield!'
My stool was such a tower of observation, that as I watched him
reading on again, after this rapturous exclamation, and following
up the lines with his forefinger, I observed that his nostrils,
which were thin and pointed, with sharp dints in them, had a singular
and most uncomfortable way of expanding and contracting themselves
- that they seemed to twinkle instead of his eyes, which hardly
ever twinkled at all.
'I suppose you are quite a great lawyer?' I said, after looking
at him for some time.
'Me, Master Copperfield?' said Uriah. 'Oh, no! I'm a very umble
person.'
It was no fancy of mine about his hands, I observed; for he frequently
ground the palms against each other as if to squeeze them dry and
warm, besides often wiping them, in a stealthy way, on his pocket-handkerchief.
'I am well aware that I am the umblest person going,' said Uriah
Heep, modestly; 'let the other be where he may. My mother is likewise
a very umble person. We live in a numble abode, Master Copperfield,
but have much to be thankful for. My father's former calling was
umble. He was a sexton.'
'What is he now?' I asked.
'He is a partaker of glory at present, Master Copperfield,' said
Uriah Heep. 'But we have much to be thankful for. How much have
I to be thankful for in living with Mr. Wickfield!'
I asked Uriah if he had been with Mr. Wickfield long?
'I have been with him, going on four year, Master Copperfield,'
said Uriah; shutting up his book, after carefully marking the place
where he had left off. 'Since a year after my father's death. How
much have I to be thankful for, in that! How much have I to be thankful
for, in Mr. Wickfield's kind intention to give me my articles, which
would otherwise not lay within the umble means of mother and self!'
'Then, when your articled time is over, you'll be a regular lawyer,
I suppose?' said I.
'With the blessing of Providence, Master Copperfield,' returned
Uriah.
'Perhaps you'll be a partner in Mr. Wickfield's business, one
of these days,' I said, to make myself agreeable; 'and it will be
Wickfield and Heep, or Heep late Wickfield.'
'Oh no, Master Copperfield,' returned Uriah, shaking his head,
'I am much too umble for that!'
He certainly did look uncommonly like the carved face on the
beam outside my window, as he sat, in his humility, eyeing me sideways,
with his mouth widened, and the creases in his cheeks.
'Mr. Wickfield is a most excellent man, Master Copperfield,'
said Uriah. 'If you have known him long, you know it, I am sure,
much better than I can inform you.'
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