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Charles Dickens
Chapter 64
Charles Dickens
 
 
1       What I have purposed to record is nearly finished; but there is yet
2  an incident conspicuous in my memory, on which it often rests with
3  delight, and without which one thread in the web I have spun would
4  have a ravelled end.

5       I had advanced in fame and fortune, my domestic joy was perfect, I
6  had been married ten happy years. Agnes and I were sitting by the
7  fire, in our house in London, one night in spring, and three of our
8  children were playing in the room, when I was told that a stranger
9  wished to see me.

10       He had been asked if he came on business, and had answered No; he
11  had come for the pleasure of seeing me, and had come a long way.
12  He was an old man, my servant said, and looked like a farmer.

13       As this sounded mysterious to the children, and moreover was like
14  the beginning of a favourite story Agnes used to tell them,
15  introductory to the arrival of a wicked old Fairy in a cloak who
16  hated everybody, it produced some commotion. One of our boys laid
17  his head in his mother's lap to be out of harm's way, and little
18  Agnes (our eldest child) left her doll in a chair to represent her,
19  and thrust out her little heap of golden curls from between the
20  window-curtains, to see what happened next.

21       'Let him come in here!' said I.

22       There soon appeared, pausing in the dark doorway as he entered, a
23  hale, grey-haired old man. Little Agnes, attracted by his looks,
24  had run to bring him in, and I had not yet clearly seen his face,
25  when my wife, starting up, cried out to me, in a pleased and
26  agitated voice, that it was Mr. Peggotty!

27       It WAS Mr. Peggotty. An old man now, but in a ruddy, hearty,
28  strong old age. When our first emotion was over, and he sat before
29  the fire with the children on his knees, and the blaze shining on
30  his face, he looked, to me, as vigorous and robust, withal as
31  handsome, an old man, as ever I had seen.

32       'Mas'r Davy,' said he. And the old name in the old tone fell so
33  naturally on my ear! 'Mas'r Davy, 'tis a joyful hour as I see you,
34  once more, 'long with your own trew wife!'

35       'A joyful hour indeed, old friend!' cried I.

36       'And these heer pretty ones,' said Mr. Peggotty. 'To look at these
37  heer flowers! Why, Mas'r Davy, you was but the heighth of the
38  littlest of these, when I first see you! When Em'ly warn't no
39  bigger, and our poor lad were BUT a lad!'

40       'Time has changed me more than it has changed you since then,' said
41  I. 'But let these dear rogues go to bed; and as no house in
42  England but this must hold you, tell me where to send for your
43  luggage (is the old black bag among it, that went so far, I
44  wonder!), and then, over a glass of Yarmouth grog, we will have the
45  tidings of ten years!'

46       'Are you alone?' asked Agnes.

47       'Yes, ma'am,' he said, kissing her hand, 'quite alone.'

48       We sat him between us, not knowing how to give him welcome enough;
49  and as I began to listen to his old familiar voice, I could have
50  fancied he was still pursuing his long journey in search of his
51  darling niece.

52       'It's a mort of water,' said Mr. Peggotty, 'fur to come across, and
53  on'y stay a matter of fower weeks. But water ('specially when 'tis
54  salt) comes nat'ral to me; and friends is dear, and I am heer. -
55  Which is verse,' said Mr. Peggotty, surprised to find it out,
56  'though I hadn't such intentions.'

57       'Are you going back those many thousand miles, so soon?' asked
58  Agnes.

59       'Yes, ma'am,' he returned. 'I giv the promise to Em'ly, afore I
60  come away. You see, I doen't grow younger as the years comes
61  round, and if I hadn't sailed as 'twas, most like I shouldn't never
62  have done 't. And it's allus been on my mind, as I must come and
63  see Mas'r Davy and your own sweet blooming self, in your wedded
64  happiness, afore I got to be too old.'

65       He looked at us, as if he could never feast his eyes on us
66  sufficiently. Agnes laughingly put back some scattered locks of
67  his grey hair, that he might see us better.

68       'And now tell us,' said I, 'everything relating to your fortunes.'

69       'Our fortuns, Mas'r Davy,' he rejoined, 'is soon told. We haven't
70  fared nohows, but fared to thrive. We've allus thrived. We've
71  worked as we ought to 't, and maybe we lived a leetle hard at first
72  or so, but we have allus thrived. What with sheep-farming, and
73  what with stock-farming, and what with one thing and what with
74  t'other, we are as well to do, as well could be. Theer's been
75  kiender a blessing fell upon us,' said Mr. Peggotty, reverentially
76  inclining his head, 'and we've done nowt but prosper. That is, in
77  the long run. If not yesterday, why then today. If not today, why
78  then tomorrow.'

79       'And Emily?' said Agnes and I, both together.

80       'Em'ly,' said he, 'arter you left her, ma'am - and I never heerd
81  her saying of her prayers at night, t'other side the canvas screen,
82  when we was settled in the Bush, but what I heerd your name - and
83  arter she and me lost sight of Mas'r Davy, that theer shining
84  sundown - was that low, at first, that, if she had know'd then what
85  Mas'r Davy kep from us so kind and thowtful, 'tis my opinion she'd
86  have drooped away. But theer was some poor folks aboard as had
87  illness among 'em, and she took care of them; and theer was the
88  children in our company, and she took care of them; and so she got
89  to be busy, and to be doing good, and that helped her.'

90       'When did she first hear of it?' I asked.

91       'I kep it from her arter I heerd on 't,' said Mr. Peggotty, 'going
92  on nigh a year. We was living then in a solitary place, but among
93  the beautifullest trees, and with the roses a-covering our Beein to
94  the roof. Theer come along one day, when I was out a-working on
95  the land, a traveller from our own Norfolk or Suffolk in England (I
96  doen't rightly mind which), and of course we took him in, and giv
97  him to eat and drink, and made him welcome. We all do that, all
98  the colony over. He'd got an old newspaper with him, and some
99  other account in print of the storm. That's how she know'd it.
100  When I came home at night, I found she know'd it.'

101       He dropped his voice as he said these words, and the gravity I so
102  well remembered overspread his face.

103       'Did it change her much?' we asked.

104       'Aye, for a good long time,' he said, shaking his head; 'if not to
105  this present hour. But I think the solitoode done her good. And
106  she had a deal to mind in the way of poultry and the like, and
107  minded of it, and come through. I wonder,' he said thoughtfully,
108  'if you could see my Em'ly now, Mas'r Davy, whether you'd know
109  her!'

110       'Is she so altered?' I inquired.

111       'I doen't know. I see her ev'ry day, and doen't know; But,
112  odd-times, I have thowt so. A slight figure,' said Mr. Peggotty,
113  looking at the fire, 'kiender worn; soft, sorrowful, blue eyes; a
114  delicate face; a pritty head, leaning a little down; a quiet voice
115  and way - timid a'most. That's Em'ly!'

116       We silently observed him as he sat, still looking at the fire.

117       'Some thinks,' he said, 'as her affection was ill-bestowed; some,
118  as her marriage was broken off by death. No one knows how 'tis.
119  She might have married well, a mort of times, "but, uncle," she
120  says to me, "that's gone for ever." Cheerful along with me; retired
121  when others is by; fond of going any distance fur to teach a child,
122  or fur to tend a sick person, or fur to do some kindness tow'rds a
123  young girl's wedding (and she's done a many, but has never seen
124  one); fondly loving of her uncle; patient; liked by young and old;
125  sowt out by all that has any trouble. That's Em'ly!'

126       He drew his hand across his face, and with a half-suppressed sigh
127  looked up from the fire.

128       'Is Martha with you yet?' I asked.

129       'Martha,' he replied, 'got married, Mas'r Davy, in the second year.
130  A young man, a farm-labourer, as come by us on his way to market
131  with his mas'r's drays - a journey of over five hundred mile, theer
132  and back - made offers fur to take her fur his wife (wives is very
133  scarce theer), and then to set up fur their two selves in the Bush.
134  She spoke to me fur to tell him her trew story. I did. They was
135  married, and they live fower hundred mile away from any voices but
136  their own and the singing birds.'

137       'Mrs. Gummidge?' I suggested.

138       It was a pleasant key to touch, for Mr. Peggotty suddenly burst
139  into a roar of laughter, and rubbed his hands up and down his legs,
140  as he had been accustomed to do when he enjoyed himself in the
141  long-shipwrecked boat.

142       'Would you believe it!' he said. 'Why, someun even made offer fur
143  to marry her! If a ship's cook that was turning settler, Mas'r
144  Davy, didn't make offers fur to marry Missis Gummidge, I'm Gormed
145  - and I can't say no fairer than that!'

146       I never saw Agnes laugh so. This sudden ecstasy on the part of Mr.
147  Peggotty was so delightful to her, that she could not leave off
148  laughing; and the more she laughed the more she made me laugh, and
149  the greater Mr. Peggotty's ecstasy became, and the more he rubbed
150  his legs.

151       'And what did Mrs. Gummidge say?' I asked, when I was grave enough.

152       'If you'll believe me,' returned Mr. Peggotty, 'Missis Gummidge,
153  'stead of saying "thank you, I'm much obleeged to you, I ain't
154  a-going fur to change my condition at my time of life," up'd with
155  a bucket as was standing by, and laid it over that theer ship's
156  cook's head 'till he sung out fur help, and I went in and reskied
157  of him.'

158       Mr. Peggotty burst into a great roar of laughter, and Agnes and I
159  both kept him company.

160       'But I must say this, for the good creetur,' he resumed, wiping his
161  face, when we were quite exhausted; 'she has been all she said
162  she'd be to us, and more. She's the willingest, the trewest, the
163  honestest-helping woman, Mas'r Davy, as ever draw'd the breath of
164  life. I have never know'd her to be lone and lorn, for a single
165  minute, not even when the colony was all afore us, and we was new
166  to it. And thinking of the old 'un is a thing she never done, I do
167  assure you, since she left England!'

168       'Now, last, not least, Mr. Micawber,' said I. 'He has paid off
169  every obligation he incurred here - even to Traddles's bill, you
170  remember my dear Agnes - and therefore we may take it for granted
171  that he is doing well. But what is the latest news of him?'

172       Mr. Peggotty, with a smile, put his hand in his breast-pocket, and
173  produced a flat-folded, paper parcel, from which he took out, with
174  much care, a little odd-looking newspaper.

175       'You are to understan', Mas'r Davy,' said he, 'as we have left the
176  Bush now, being so well to do; and have gone right away round to
177  Port Middlebay Harbour, wheer theer's what we call a town.'

178       'Mr. Micawber was in the Bush near you?' said I.

179       'Bless you, yes,' said Mr. Peggotty, 'and turned to with a will.
180  I never wish to meet a better gen'l'man for turning to with a will.
181  I've seen that theer bald head of his a perspiring in the sun,
182  Mas'r Davy, till I a'most thowt it would have melted away. And now
183  he's a Magistrate.'

184       'A Magistrate, eh?' said I.

185       Mr. Peggotty pointed to a certain paragraph in the newspaper, where
186  I read aloud as follows, from the Port Middlebay Times:

187       'The public dinner to our distinguished fellow-colonist and
188  townsman, WILKINS MICAWBER, ESQUIRE, Port Middlebay District
189  Magistrate, came off yesterday in the large room of the Hotel,
190  which was crowded to suffocation. It is estimated that not fewer
191  than forty-seven persons must have been accommodated with dinner at
192  one time, exclusive of the company in the passage and on the
193  stairs. The beauty, fashion, and exclusiveness of Port Middlebay,
194  flocked to do honour to one so deservedly esteemed, so highly
195  talented, and so widely popular. Doctor Mell (of Colonial
196  Salem-House Grammar School, Port Middlebay) presided, and on his
197  right sat the distinguished guest. After the removal of the cloth,
198  and the singing of Non Nobis (beautifully executed, and in which we
199  were at no loss to distinguish the bell-like notes of that gifted
200  amateur, WILKINS MICAWBER, ESQUIRE, JUNIOR), the usual loyal and
201  patriotic toasts were severally given and rapturously received.
202  Doctor Mell, in a speech replete with feeling, then proposed "Our
203  distinguished Guest, the ornament of our town. May he never leave
204  us but to better himself, and may his success among us be such as
205  to render his bettering himself impossible!" The cheering with
206  which the toast was received defies description. Again and again
207  it rose and fell, like the waves of ocean. At length all was
208  hushed, and WILKINS MICAWBER, ESQUIRE, presented himself to return
209  thanks. Far be it from us, in the present comparatively imperfect
210  state of the resources of our establishment, to endeavour to follow
211  our distinguished townsman through the smoothly-flowing periods of
212  his polished and highly-ornate address! Suffice it to observe, that
213  it was a masterpiece of eloquence; and that those passages in which
214  he more particularly traced his own successful career to its
215  source, and warned the younger portion of his auditory from the
216  shoals of ever incurring pecuniary liabilities which they were
217  unable to liquidate, brought a tear into the manliest eye present.
218  The remaining toasts were DOCTOR MELL; Mrs. MICAWBER (who
219  gracefully bowed her acknowledgements from the side-door, where a
220  galaxy of beauty was elevated on chairs, at once to witness and
221  adorn the gratifying scene), Mrs. RIDGER BEGS (late Miss Micawber);
222  Mrs. MELL; WILKINS MICAWBER, ESQUIRE, JUNIOR (who convulsed the
223  assembly by humorously remarking that he found himself unable to
224  return thanks in a speech, but would do so, with their permission,
225  in a song); Mrs. MICAWBER'S FAMILY (well known, it is needless to
226  remark, in the mother-country), &c. &c. &c. At the conclusion of
227  the proceedings the tables were cleared as if by art-magic for
228  dancing. Among the votaries of TERPSICHORE, who disported
229  themselves until Sol gave warning for departure, Wilkins Micawber,
230  Esquire, Junior, and the lovely and accomplished Miss Helena,
231  fourth daughter of Doctor Mell, were particularly remarkable.'

232       I was looking back to the name of Doctor Mell, pleased to have
233  discovered, in these happier circumstances, Mr. Mell, formerly poor
234  pinched usher to my Middlesex magistrate, when Mr. Peggotty
235  pointing to another part of the paper, my eyes rested on my own
236  name, and I read thus:

237       ' TO DAVID COPPERFIELD, ESQUIRE,

238       

'THE EMINENT AUTHOR.

239       'My Dear Sir,

240       'Years have elapsed, since I had an opportunity of ocularly
241  perusing the lineaments, now familiar to the imaginations of a
242  considerable portion of the civilized world.

243       'But, my dear Sir, though estranged (by the force of circumstances
244  over which I have had no control) from the personal society of the
245  friend and companion of my youth, I have not been unmindful of his
246  soaring flight. Nor have I been debarred,

247       

Though seas between us braid ha' roared,

248       (BURNS) from participating in the intellectual feasts he has spread
249  before us.

250       'I cannot, therefore, allow of the departure from this place of an
251  individual whom we mutually respect and esteem, without, my dear
252  Sir, taking this public opportunity of thanking you, on my own
253  behalf, and, I may undertake to add, on that of the whole of the
254  Inhabitants of Port Middlebay, for the gratification of which you
255  are the ministering agent.

256       'Go on, my dear Sir! You are not unknown here, you are not
257  unappreciated. Though "remote", we are neither "unfriended",
258  "melancholy", nor (I may add) "slow". Go on, my dear Sir, in your
259  Eagle course! The inhabitants of Port Middlebay may at least aspire
260  to watch it, with delight, with entertainment, with instruction!

261       'Among the eyes elevated towards you from this portion of the
262  globe, will ever be found, while it has light and life,

263       

'The

264       

'Eye

265       

'Appertaining to

266       

'WILKINS MICAWBER,

267       

'Magistrate.'

268       I found, on glancing at the remaining contents of the newspaper,
269  that Mr. Micawber was a diligent and esteemed correspondent of that
270  journal. There was another letter from him in the same paper,
271  touching a bridge; there was an advertisement of a collection of
272  similar letters by him, to be shortly republished, in a neat
273  volume, 'with considerable additions'; and, unless I am very much
274  mistaken, the Leading Article was his also.

275       We talked much of Mr. Micawber, on many other evenings while Mr.
276  Peggotty remained with us. He lived with us during the whole term
277  of his stay, - which, I think, was something less than a month, -
278  and his sister and my aunt came to London to see him. Agnes and I
279  parted from him aboard-ship, when he sailed; and we shall never
280  part from him more, on earth.

281       But before he left, he went with me to Yarmouth, to see a little
282  tablet I had put up in the churchyard to the memory of Ham. While
283  I was copying the plain inscription for him at his request, I saw
284  him stoop, and gather a tuft of grass from the grave and a little
285  earth.

286       'For Em'ly,' he said, as he put it in his breast. 'I promised,
287  Mas'r Davy.'

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