would proudly remark； when we conversed about it。 ‘Dick will
distinguish himself yet！’
I must refer to one other topic before I close this chapter。 While
the visit at the Doctor’s was still in progress； I observed that the
postman brought two or three letters every morning for Uriah
Heep； who remained at Highgate until the rest went back； it being
a leisure time； and that these were always directed in a businesslike manner by Mr。 Micawber； who now assumed a round legal
hand。 I was glad to infer； from these slight premises； that Mr。
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Micawber was doing well； and consequently was much surprised
to receive； about this time； the following letter from his amiable
wife。
‘CANTERBURY； Monday Evening。
‘You will doubtless be surprised； my dear Mr。 Copperfield； to
receive this communication。 Still more so； by its contents。 Still
more so； by the stipulation of implicit confidence which I beg to
impose。 But my feelings as a wife and mother require relief； and as
I do not wish to consult my family （already obnoxious to the
feelings of Mr。 Micawber）； I know no one of whom I can better ask
advice than my friend and former lodger。
‘You may be aware； my dear Mr。 Copperfield； that between
myself and Mr。 Micawber （whom I will never desert）； there has
always been preserved a spirit of mutual confidence。 Mr。
Micawber may have occasionally given a bill without consulting
me； or he may have misled me as to the period when that
obligation would become due。 This has actually happened。 But； in
general； Mr。 Micawber has had no secrets from the bosom of
affection—I allude to his wife—and has invariably； on our
retirement to rest； recalled the events of the day。
‘You will picture to yourself； my dear Mr。 Copperfield； what the
poignancy of my feelings must be； when I inform you that Mr。
Micawber is entirely changed。 He is reserved。 He is secret。 His life
is a mystery to the partner of his joys and sorrows—I again allude
to his wife—and if I should assure you that beyond knowing that it
is passed from morning to night at the office； I now know less of it
than I do of the man in the south； connected with whose mouth
the thoughtless children repeat an idle tale respecting cold plum
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porridge； I should adopt a popular fallacy to express an actual fact。
‘But this is not all。 Mr。 Micawber is morose。 He is severe。 He is
estranged from our eldest son and daughter； he has no pride in his
twins； he looks with an eye of coldness even on the unoffending
stranger who last became a member of our circle。 The pecuniary
means of meeting our expenses； kept down to the utmost farthing；
are obtained from him with great difficulty； and even under fearful
threats that he will Settle himself （the exact expression）； and he
inexorably refuses to give any explanation whatever of this
distracting policy。
‘This is hard to bear。 This is heart…breaking。 If you will advise
me； knowing my feeble powers such as they are； how you think it
will be best to exert them in a dilemma so unwonted； you will add
another friendly obligation to the many you have already rendered
me。 With loves from the children； and a smile from the happily…
unconscious stranger； I remain； dear Mr。 Copperfield；
Your afflicted；
‘EMMA MICAWBER。’
I did not feel justified in giving a wife of Mrs。 Micawber’s
experience any other recommendation； than that she should try to
reclaim Mr。 Micawber by patience and kindness （as I knew she
would in any case）； but the letter set me thinking about him very
much。
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Chapter 43
ANOTHER RETROSPECT
Once again； let me pause upon a memorable period of my
life。 Let me stand aside； to see the phantoms of those days
go by me； accompanying the shadow of myself； in dim
procession。
Weeks； months； seasons； pass along。 They seem little more than
a summer day and a winter evening。 Now； the Common where I
walk with Dora is all in bloom； a field of bright gold； and now the
unseen heather lies in mounds and bunches underneath a
covering of snow。 In a breath； the river that flows through our
Sunday walks is sparkling in the summer sun； is ruffled by the
winter wind； or thickened with drifting heaps of ice。 Faster than
ever river ran towards the sea； it flashes； darkens； and rolls away。
Not a thread changes； in the house of the two little bird…like
ladies。 The clock ticks over the fireplace； the weather…glass hangs
in the hall。 Neither clock nor weather…glass is ever right； but we
believe in both； devoutly。
I have come legally to man’s estate。 I have attained the dignity
of twenty…one。 But this is a sort of dignity that may be thrust upon
one。 Let me think what I have achieved。
I have tamed that savage stenographic mystery。 I make a
respectable income by it。 I am in high repute for my
accomplishment in all pertaining to the art； and am joined with
eleven others in reporting the debates in Parliament for a Morning
Newspaper。 Night after night； I record predictions that never
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come to pass； professions that are never fulfilled； explanations that
are only meant to mystify。 I wallow in words。 Britannia； that
unfortunate female； is always before me； like a trussed fowl：
skewered through and through with office…pens； and bound hand
and foot with red tape。 I am sufficiently behind the scenes to know
the worth of political life。 I am quite an Infidel about it； and shall
never be converted。
My dear old Traddles has tried his hand at the same pursuit；
but it is not in Traddles’s way。 He is perfectly good…humoured
respecting his failure； and reminds me that he always did consider
himself slow。 He has occasional employment on the same
newspaper； in getting up the facts of dry subjects； to be written
about and embellished by more fertile minds。 He is called to the
bar； and with admirable industry and self…denial has scraped
another hundred pounds together； to fee a Conveyancer whose
chambers he attends。 A great deal of very hot port wine was
consumed at his call； and； considering the figure； I should think
the Inner Temple must have made a profit by it。
I have come out in another way。 I have taken with fear and
trembling to authorship。 I wrote a little something； in secret； and
sent it to a magazine； and it was published in the magazine。 Since
then； I have taken heart to write a good many trifling pieces。 Now；
I am regularly paid for them。 Altogether； I am well off； when I tell
my income on the fingers of my left hand； I pass the third finger
and take in the fourth to the middle joint。
We have removed； from Buckingham Street； to a pleasant little
cottage very near the one I looked at； when my enthusiasm first
came on。 My aunt； however （who has sold the house at Dover； to
good advantage）； is not going to remain here； but intends
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removing herself to a still more tiny cottage close at hand。 What
does this portend？ My marriage？ Yes！
Yes！ I am going to be married to Dora！ Miss Lavinia and Miss
Clarissa have given their consent； and if ever canary birds were in
a flutter； they are。 Miss Lavinia； self…charged with the
superintendence of my darling’s wardrobe； is constantly cutting
out brown…paper cuirasses； and differing in opinion from a highly
respectable young man； with a long bundle； and a yard measure
under his arm。 A dressmaker； always stabbed in the breast with a
needle and thread； boards and lodges in the house； and seems to
me； eating； drinking； or sleeping； never to take her thimble off。
They make a lay…figure of my dear。 They are always sending for
her to come and try something on。 We can’t be happy together for
five minutes in the evening； but some intrusive female knocks at
the door； and says； ‘Oh； if you please； Miss Dora； would you step
upstairs！’
Miss Clarissa and my aunt roam all over London； to find out
articles of furniture for Dora and me to look at。 It would be better
for them to buy the goods at once； without this ceremony of
inspection； for； when we go to see a kitchen fender and meat…
screen； Dora sees a Chinese house for Jip； with little bells on the
top； and prefers that。 And it takes a long time to accustom Jip to
his new residence； after we have bought it； whenever he goes in or
out； he makes all the little bells ring； and is horribly frightened。
Peggotty comes up to make herself useful； and falls to work
immediately。 Her department appears to be； to clean everything
over and over again。 She rubs everything that can be rubbed； until
it shines； like her own honest forehead； with perpetual friction。
And now it is； that I begin to see her solitary brother passing
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David Copperfield
through the dark streets at night； and looking； as he goes； among
the wandering faces。 I never speak to him at such an hour。 I know
too well； as his grave figure passes onward； what he seeks； and
what he dreads。
Why does Traddles look so important when he calls upon me
this afternoon in the Commons—where I still occasionally attend；
for form’s sake； when I have time？ The realization of my boyish
day…dreams is at hand。 I am going to take out the licence。
It is a little document to do so much； and Traddles
contemplates it； as it lies upon my desk； half in admiration； half in
awe。 There are the names； in the sweet old visionary connexion；
David Copperfield and Dora Spenlow； and there； in the corner； is
that Parental Institution； the Stamp Office； which is so
benignantly interested in the various transactions of human life；
looking down upon our Union； and there is the Archbishop of
Canterbury invoking a blessing on us in print； and doing it as
cheap as could possibly be expected。
Nevertheless； I am in a dream； a flustered； happy； hurried
dream。 I can’t believe that it is going to be； and yet I c