whole； that he could not come to London just then。 I suspect the
truth to be； that the influence of Agnes was upon me； undisturbed
by the sight of him； and that it was the more powerful with me；
because she had so large a share in my thoughts and interest。
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In the meantime； days and weeks slipped away。 I was articled to
Spenlow and Jorkins。 I had ninety pounds a year （exclusive of my
house…rent and sundry collateral matters） from my aunt。 My
rooms were engaged for twelve months certain： and though I still
found them dreary of an evening； and the evenings long； I could
settle down into a state of equable low spirits； and resign myself to
coffee； which I seem； on looking back； to have taken by the gallon
at about this period of my existence。 At about this time； too； I
made three discoveries： first； that Mrs。 Crupp was a martyr to a
curious disorder called ‘the spazzums’； which was generally
accompanied with inflammation of the nose； and required to be
constantly treated with peppermint； secondly； that something
peculiar in the temperature of my pantry； made the brandy…bottles
burst； thirdly； that I was alone in the world； and much given to
record that circumstance in fragments of English versification。
On the day when I was articled； no festivity took place； beyond
my having sandwiches and sherry into the office for the clerks；
and going alone to the theatre at night。 I went to see The Stranger；
as a Doctors’ Commons sort of play； and was so dreadfully cut up；
that I hardly knew myself in my own glass when I got home。 Mr。
Spenlow remarked； on this occasion； when we concluded our
business； that he should have been happy to have seen me at his
house at Norwood to celebrate our becoming connected； but for
his domestic arrangements being in some disorder； on account of
the expected return of his daughter from finishing her education
at Paris。 But； he intimated that when she came home he should
hope to have the pleasure of entertaining me。 I knew that he was a
widower with one daughter； and expressed my
acknowledgements。
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Mr。 Spenlow was as good as his word。 In a week or two； he
referred to this engagement； and said； that if I would do him the
favour to come down next Saturday； and stay till Monday； he
would be extremely happy。 Of course I said I would do him the
favour； and he was to drive me down in his phaeton； and to bring
me back。
When the day arrived； my very carpet…bag was an object of
veneration to the stipendiary clerks； to whom the house at
Norwood was a sacred mystery。 One of them informed me that he
had heard that Mr。 Spenlow ate entirely off plate and china； and
another hinted at champagne being constantly on draught； after
the usual custom of table…beer。 The old clerk with the wig； whose
name was Mr。 Tiffey； had been down on business several times in
the course of his career； and had on each occasion penetrated to
the breakfast…parlour。 He described it as an apartment of the most
sumptuous nature； and said that he had drunk brown East India
sherry there； of a quality so precious as to make a man wink。 We
had an adjourned cause in the Consistory that day—about
excommunicating a baker who had been objecting in a vestry to a
paving…rate—and as the evidence was just twice the length of
Robinson Crusoe； according to a calculation I made； it was rather
late in the day before we finished。 However； we got him
excommunicated for six weeks； and sentenced in no end of costs；
and then the baker’s proctor； and the judge； and the advocates on
both sides （who were all nearly related）； went out of town together；
and Mr。 Spenlow and I drove away in the phaeton。
The phaeton was a very handsome affair； the horses arched
their necks and lifted up their legs as if they knew they belonged
to Doctors’ Commons。 There was a good deal of competition in the
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Commons on all points of display； and it turned out some very
choice equipages then； though I always have considered； and
always shall consider； that in my time the great article of
competition there was starch： which I think was worn among the
proctors to as great an extent as it is in the nature of man to bear。
We were very pleasant； going down； and Mr。 Spenlow gave me
some hints in reference to my profession。 He said it was the
genteelest profession in the world； and must on no account be
confounded with the profession of a solicitor： being quite another
sort of thing； infinitely more exclusive； less mechanical； and more
profitable。 We took things much more easily in the Commons than
they could be taken anywhere else； he observed； and that set us； as
a privileged class； apart。 He said it was impossible to conceal the
disagreeable fact； that we were chiefly employed by solicitors； but
he gave me to understand that they were an inferior race of men；
universally looked down upon by all proctors of any pretensions。
I asked Mr。 Spenlow what he considered the best sort of
professional business？ He replied； that a good case of a disputed
will； where there was a neat little estate of thirty or forty thousand
pounds； was； perhaps； the best of all。 In such a case； he said； not
only were there very pretty pickings； in the way of arguments at
every stage of the proceedings； and mountains upon mountains of
evidence on interrogatory and counter…interrogatory （to say
nothing of an appeal lying； first to the Delegates； and then to the
Lords）； but； the costs being pretty sure to come out of the estate at
last； both sides went at it in a lively and spirited manner； and
expense was no consideration。 Then； he launched into a general
eulogium on the Commons。 What was to be particularly admired
（he said） in the Commons； was its compactness。 It was the most
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conveniently organized place in the world。 It was the complete
idea of snugness。 It lay in a nutshell。 For example： You brought a
divorce case； or a restitution case； into the Consistory。 Very good。
You tried it in the Consistory。 You made a quiet little round game
of it； among a family group； and you played it out at leisure。
Suppose you were not satisfied with the Consistory； what did you
do then？ Why； you went into the Arches。 What was the Arches？
The same court； in the same room； with the same bar； and the
same practitioners； but another judge； for there the Consistory
judge could plead any court…day as an advocate。 Well； you played
your round game out again。 Still you were not satisfied。 Very good。
What did you do then？ Why； you went to the Delegates。 Who were
the Delegates？ Why； the Ecclesiastical Delegates were the
advocates without any business； who had looked on at the round
game when it was playing in both courts； and had seen the cards
shuffled； and cut； and played； and had talked to all the players
about it； and now came fresh； as judges； to settle the matter to the
satisfaction of everybody！ Discontented people might talk of
corruption in the Commons； closeness in the Commons； and the
necessity of reforming the Commons； said Mr。 Spenlow solemnly；
in conclusion； but when the price of wheat per bushel had been
highest； the Commons had been busiest； and a man might lay his
hand upon his heart； and say this to the whole world；—‘Touch the
Commons； and down comes the country！’
I listened to all this with attention； and though； I must say； I had
my doubts whether the country was quite as much obliged to the
Commons as Mr。 Spenlow made out； I respectfully deferred to his
opinion。 That about the price of wheat per bushel； I modestly felt
was too much for my strength； and quite settled the question。 I
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have never； to this hour； got the better of that bushel of wheat。 It
has reappeared to annihilate me； all through my life； in connexion
with all kinds of subjects。 I don’t know now； exactly； what it has to
do with me； or what right it has to crush me； on an infinite variety
of occasions； but whenever I see my old friend the bushel brought
in by the head and shoulders （as he always is； I observe）； I give up
a subject for lost。
This is a digression。 I was not the man to touch the Commons；
and bring down the country。 I submissively expressed； by my
silence； my acquiescence in all I had heard from my superior in
years and knowledge； and we talked about “The Stranger” and the
Drama； and the pairs of horses； until we came to Mr。 Spenlow’s
gate。
There was a lovely garden to Mr。 Spenlow’s house； and though
that was not the best time of the year for seeing a garden； it was so
beautifully kept； that I was quite enchanted。 There was a
charming lawn； there were clusters of trees； and there were
perspective walks that I could just distinguish in the dark； arched
over with trellis…work； on which shrubs and flowers grew in the
growing season。 ‘Here Miss Spenlow walks by herself；’ I thought。
‘Dear me！’
We went into the house； which was cheerfully lighted up； and
into a hall where there were all sorts of hats； caps； great…coats；
plaids； gloves； whips； and walking…sticks。 ‘Where is Miss Dora？’
said Mr。 Spenlow to the servant。 ‘Dora！’ I thought。 ‘What a
beautiful name！’
We turned into a room near at hand （I think it was the identical
breakfast…room； made memorable by the brown East Indian
sherry）； and I heard a voice say； ‘Mr。 Copperfield； my daughter
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Dora； and my daughter Dora’s confidential friend！’ It was； no
doubt； Mr。 Spenlow’s voice； but I didn’t know it； and I didn’t care
whose it was。 All was over in a moment。 I had fulfilled my destiny。
I was a captive and a slave。 I loved Dora Spenlow to distraction！
She was more than human to me。 She was a Fairy； a Sylph； I
don’t know what she was—anything that no one ever saw； and
everything that everybody