Chapter 7

I was not considered as formally received into the school until I had met J. Steerforth. He was one of the older scholars, reputed to be brilliant and clever, and quite the lion of the school. He inquired, under a shed in the playground, into the particulars of my punishment, and said it was "a jolly shame," which opinion bound me to him ever afterwards. Then he asked me what money I had, and when I answered seven shillings, he suggested that I spend a couple of shillings or so in a bottle of currant wine, and a couple or so in almond cakes, and another in fruit, and another in biscuit, for a little celebration that night in our bedroom, in honour of my arrival, and of course I said I should be glad to do so. I was a little uneasy about wasting my mother's half-crowns, but I did not dare to say so, and Steerforth procured the feast and laid it out on my bed, saying, "There you are, young Copperfield, and a royal spread you've got."

I couldn't think of doing the honours of the feast, and begged him to preside. So he sat upon my pillow, handing round the viands, and dispensing the wine. As to me, I sat next to him, and the rest grouped about us on the nearest beds and on the floor; and there we sat in the dim moonlight, talking in whispers, while I heard all the school gossip, about Mr. Creakle and his cruelty, and about the other masters, and that the only boy on whom Mr. Creakle never dared to lay a hand was Steerforth. All this and much more I heard before we at last betook ourselves to bed.

The next day school began in earnest, and so far as the boys were concerned, Steerforth continued his protection of me, and was always a very firm and useful friend, as no one dared annoy any one whom he liked.

One night he discovered that my head was filled with stories of my favourite heroes, which I could relate with some measure of graphic talent, and after that I was obliged to reel off stories by the yard, making myself into a regular Sultana Scheherezade for his benefit. I was much flattered by his interest in my tales, and the only drawback to telling them was that I was often very sleepy at night, and it was sometimes very hard work to be roused and forced into a long recital before the rising bell rang, but Steerforth was resolute, and as in return he explained sums and exercises to me, I was no loser by the transaction. Also, I honestly admired and loved the handsome fellow, and desired to please him.

And so from week to week the story-telling in the dark went on, and whatever I had within me that was romantic or dreamy was encouraged by it. By degrees the other boys joined the circle of listeners. Traddles was always overcome with mirth at the comic parts of the stories. He used to pretend that he couldn't keep his teeth from chattering when an Alguazil was mentioned in connection with the adventures of Gil Blas, and I remember when Gil Blas met the captain of the robbers in Madrid, Traddles counterfeited such an ague of terror, that Mr. Creakle who was prowling about the passage, overheard him, and flogged him for disorderly conduct.

There was little of especial moment in my first half-term at Salem House, except the quarrel which took place between Steerforth and Mr. Mell; and an unexpected visit from Ham and Mr. Peggotty when I had the delight of introducing those rollicking fellows to Steerforth, whose bright, easy manner charmed them, as it did most persons.

The rest of the half-year is a jumble in my recollection; and then came the holidays, which were spent at home. I found my mother as tender as of old. She hugged me and kissed me, and on that first blessed night, as Mr. and Miss Murdstone were away on a visit, mother and Peggotty and I dined together by the fireside in the old fashion. My mother spoke of herself as a weak, ignorant young thing whom the Murdstones were endeavouring to make as strong in character as themselves. Then we talked about Salem House and my experiences and friends there, and were very happy. That evening as the last of its race will never pass out of my memory. I was at home for a month, but after that first night I felt in the way, for the Murdstones were always with my mother. On the evening after my return I made a very humble apology to Mr. Murdstone, which he received with cold dignity. I tried to spend my evenings in the kitchen with Peggotty, but of this Mr. Murdstone did not approve, so I sat wearily in the parlour, waiting for the hours to wear themselves away. What walks I took alone! What meals I had in silence and embarrassment! What dull evenings, poring over tables of weights and measures, and what yawns and dozes I lapsed into in spite of all my care! Thus the holidays lagged away, until the morning came when Miss Murdstone gave me the closing cup of tea of the vacation. I was not sorry to go. I had lapsed into a stupid state; but I was recovering a little and looking foward to Steerforth. I kissed my mother, and had climbed into the carrier's cart when I heard her calling me. I looked back, and she stood at the garden-gate, looking intently at me.

So I lost her. So I saw her afterwards, in my sleep at school,--a silent presence near my bed--looking at me with the same intent face,--and the vision is still a constant blessing to me.

From then I pass over all that happened at Salem House until my birthday in March. On the morning of that day I was summoned into Mr. Creakle's august presence. Mrs. Creakle was in the room too, and somehow they broke it to me that my mother was very ill. I knew all now!

"She is dead," they said.

There was no need to tell me so. I had already broken out into a desolate cry, and felt an orphan in the wide world. If ever child were stricken with sincere grief, I was. But I remember even so, that my sorrow was a kind of satisfaction to me, when I walked in the playground, while the boys were in school, and saw them glancing at me out of the windows, and because of my grief I felt distinguished, and of vast importance. We had no story-telling that night, and Traddles insisted on lending me his pillow as a guarantee of his sympathy, which I understood and accepted.

I left Salem House upon noon the next day, stopping in Yarmouth to be measured for my suit of black. Then all too soon I was at home again, only it was home no longer, for my mother was not there. Mr. Murdstone, who was weeping, took no notice of me. Miss Murdstone gave me her cold fingers, and asked if I had been measured for my mourning, and if I had brought home my shirts. There was no sign that they thought of my suffering, and--alone--except for dear faithful Peggotty, I remained there, motherless, and worse than fatherless, still stunned and giddy with the shock. As soon as the funeral was over, Peggotty obtained permission to take me home with her for a visit, and I was thankful for the change, even though I knew that Peggotty was leaving the Rookery forever.

We found the old boat the same pleasant place as ever, only little Em'ly and I seldom wandered on the beach now. She had tasks to learn, and needlework to do. During the visit I had a great surprise, which was no less than Peggotty's marriage to the carrier who had taken me on so many trips, and whose affections it seemed, had long been fastened upon Peggotty. He took her to a nice little home, and there she showed me a room which she said would be mine whenever I chose to occupy it. I felt the constancy of my dear old nurse, and thanked her as well as I could, but the next day I was obliged to go back to the Murdstones. Peggotty made the journey with me, and no words can express my forlorn and desolate feelings when the cart took her away again, and I was left alone in the place where I used to be so happy.

And now I fell into a state of neglect, apart from other boys of my own age, and apart from all friendly faces. What would I not have given to have been sent to school! I think Mr. Murdstone's means were straightened at that time, and there was no mention of Salem House or of any other school. I was not beaten or starved, only coldly neglected. Peggotty I was seldom allowed to visit, but once a week she either came to see me or met me somewhere, and that, and the dear old books were my only comfort.

One day Mr. Quinion, a visitor at the house, took pains to ask me some questions about myself, and afterwards Mr. Murdstone called me to him, and said:

"I suppose you know, David, that I am not rich. You have received some considerable education already. Education is costly; and even if I could afford it, I am of opinion that it would not be at all advantageous to you to be kept at a school. There is before you a fight with the world; and the sooner you begin it the better. You may have heard of the counting house of Murdstone and Grinby, in the wine trade? Mr. Quinion manages the business, and he suggests thit it gives employment to some other boys, and that he sees no reason why it shouldn't give employment to you. You will earn enough to provide for your eating, and drinking, and pocket money. Your lodging will be paid by me. So will your washing. Your clothes will be looked after for you, too," said Mr. Murdstone, "as you will not be able, yet awhile, to get them for yourself. So you are now going to London, David, to begin the world on your own account."

Behold me, on the morrow, in a much-worn little white hat, with a crape band round it, a black jacket, and stiff corduroy trousers! Behold me so attired, and with my little worldly all in a small trunk, sitting, a lone, lorn child, in the post-chaise, journeying to London with Mr. Quinion! Behold me at ten years old, a little labouring hind in Murdstone and Grinby's warehouse on the waterside at Blackfriars! It was a crazy old house with a wharf of its own, but rotting with dirt and age. Their trade was among many kinds of people, chiefly supplying wines and spirits to certain packet ships. My work was pasting labels on full bottles, or fitting corks to them, or sealing the corks, and the work was not half so distasteful as were my companions, far below me in birth and education. The oldest of the regular boys was named Mick Walker, and another boy in my department, on account of his complexion, was called Mealy Potatoes. No words can express the secret agony of my soul as I sunk into this companionship, and thought sadly of Traddles, Steerforth, and those other boys, whom I felt sure would grow up to be great men.

I lodged with a Mr. Micawber who lived in Windsor Terrace. My pay at the warehouse was six shillings a week. I provided my own breakfast and kept bread and cheese to eat at night. Also, child that I was,--sometimes I could not resist pastry cakes and puddings in the shop windows, all of which made a large hole in my six shillings. From Monday to Saturday I had no advice, no encouragement or help of any kind. I worked with common men and boys, a shabby child. I lounged about the streets, insufficiently and unsatisfactorily fed. But for the mercy of God, I might easily have been, for any care that was taken of me, a little robber or a little vagabond. Yet they were kind to me at the warehouse and that I suffered and was miserably unhappy, no one noticed. I concealed the fact even from Peggotty (partly for love of her, and partly for shame).

I did my work not unskilfully, and though perfectly familiar with my companions, my conduct and manner placed a space between us and I was usually spoken of as the "little Gent." In my desolate condition, I became really attached to the Micawbers, and when they experienced reverses of fortune, and Mr. Micawber was carried off to the Debtors' Prison, I did all that I could for them, and remained with Mrs. Micawber in lodgings near the prison. But I plainly saw that a parting was near at hand, as it was the Micawbers' intention to leave London as soon as Mr. Micawber could free himself. So keen was my dread of lodging with new people, added to the misery of my daily life at the warehouse, that I could not endure the thought, and finally I made a resolution. I would run away!

Many times in the old days, my mother had told me the story of my one relative, Aunt Betsey, who had been present at the time of my birth, confident in her hopes of a niece who should be named for her, Betsey Trotwood, and for whom she proposed to provide liberally. When I, David Copperfield, came in place of the longed-for niece, Aunt Betsey shook the dust of the place off her feet, and my mother never saw her afterwards. My idea now was to find Aunt Betsey. Not knowing where she lived, I wrote a long letter to Peggotty, and asked in it incidentally if she knew the address, and also if she could lend me half a guinea for a short time. She answered promptly and enclosed the half guinea, saying that Miss Betsey lived just outside of Dover, which place I at once resolved to set out for. However, I considered myself bound to remain at the warehouse until Saturday night; and as when I first came there I had been paid for a week in advance, not to present myself as usual to receive my wages. For this reason I had borrowed the half guinea, that I might have a fund for my travelling expenses.

Accordingly, when Saturday night came, I shook Mick Walker's hand, bade good-night to Mealy Potatoes--and ran away.

My box was at my old lodging, and I had a card ready for it, addressed to "Master David, to be left till called for at the Coach Office, Dover."

I found a young man with a donkey-cart whom I engaged for sixpence, to remove my box, and in pulling the card for it out of my pocket, I tumbled my half guinea out too. I put it in my mouth for safety, and had just tied the card on, when I felt myself violently chucked under the chin by the young man, and saw my half guinea fly out of my mouth into his hand.

"You give me my money back, if you please," said I, very much frightened. "And leave me alone!"

"Come to the pollis," said he; "you shall prove it yourn to the pollis!"

"Give me my box and money, will you?" I cried, bursting into tears.

The young man still replied, "Come to the pollis!"

Then suddenly changed his mind, jumped into the cart, sat upon my box, and exclaiming that he would drive to the pollis straight, rattled away.

I ran after him as fast as I could, narrowly escaping being run over some twenty times in a mile, until I had no breath left to call out with. Now I lost him, now I saw him, but at length, confused and exhausted, I left him to go where he would with my box and money, and, panting and crying, but never stopping, I faced about for Greenwich, and had some wild idea of running straight to Dover. However, my scattered senses were soon collected and I sat down on a doorstep, quite spent. Fortunately, it was a fine summer night, and when I had recovered my breath, I went on again. But I had only three-halfpence in the world, and as I trudged on, I pictured to myself how I should be found dead in a day or two, under some hedge. Passing a little pawnshop, I left my waistcoat, and went on, richer by ninepence, and I foresaw that my jacket would go next, in fact that I should be lucky if I got to Dover in a shirt and a pair of trousers.

It had occurred to me to go on as fast as I could towards Salem House, and spend the night behind the wall at the back of my old school, where there used to be a haystack. I imagined it would be a kind of company to have the boys and the bedroom where I used to tell the stories, so near me. I had a hard day's walk, and with great trouble found Salem House, and the haystack, and lay down outside the dark and silent house. Never shall I forget the lonely sensation of first lying down, without a roof above my head! But at last I slept, and dreamed of old school-days, until the warm beams of the sun, and the rising bell at Salem House awoke me. As none of my old companions could still be there, I had no wish to linger, so I crept away from the wall and struck out into the dusty Dover road.

That day I got through three and twenty miles, and at night I passed over the bridge at Rochester, footsore and tired, eating bread as I walked. There were plenty of signs, "Lodgings for Travellers," but I sought no shelter, fearing to spend the few pence I had. Very stiff and sore of foot I was in the morning, and I felt that I could go only a short distance that day. I took off my jacket, and went into a shop, where I exchanged it finally for one and fourpence. For threepence I refreshed myself completely, and limped seven miles further. I slept under another haystack, after washing my blistered feet in a stream, and went on in rather better spirits, coming at last to the bare wide downs near Dover. I then began to inquire of everyone I met, about my aunt, but no one knew her, and finally, when the morning was far spent, in despair I went into a little shop to ask once more. I spoke to the clerk, but a young woman on whom he was waiting, took the inquiry to herself.

"My mistress?" she said. "What do you want with her, boy?"

On my replying that I wished to see Miss Trotwood, the young woman told me to follow her. I needed no second permission, though by this time my legs shook under me. Soon we came to a neat little cottage with cheerful bow-windows, in front of it a gravelled court, full of flowers.

"This is Miss Trotwood's," said the young woman, and then she hurried in, and left me standing at the gate. My shoes were by this time in a woeful condition, my hat was crushed and bent, my shirt and trousers stained and torn, my hair had known no comb or brush since I left London, my face, neck, and hands, from unaccustomed exposure, were burnt to a berry-brown. From head to foot I was powdered with dust. In this plight I waited to introduce myself to my formidable aunt.

As I waited, there came out of the house a lady with a handkerchief tied over her cap, a pair of gardening gloves on her hands, and carrying a great knife. I knew her immediately, for she stalked out of the house exactly as my mother had so often described her stalking up our garden at home.

"Go away!" said Miss Betsey, shaking her head, and waving her knife. "Go along! No boys here!"

I watched her, with my heart at my lips, as she stopped to dig up a root. Then I went up and touched her.

"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 down flat 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 I broke into a passion of crying.

My aunt 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. Then she put me on a sofa with a shawl under my head, and a handkerchief under my feet, lest I should soil the cover, and then, sitting down so I could not see her face, she ejaculated "Mercy on us!" at regular intervals.

After a time she rang a bell, and a grey-headed, florid old gentleman, called Mr. Dick, who had the appearance of a grown-up boy, and who lived with my aunt, appeared. When my aunt asked his opinion about what to do with me, his advice was to wash me.

This Janet, the maid, was preparing to do, when suddenly my aunt became, in one moment, rigid with indignation, and cried out, "Janet! Donkeys!"

Upon which, Janet came running as if the house were in flames, and darted out on a little piece of green in front, to warn off two donkeys, lady ridden, while my aunt seized the bridle of a third animal, laden with a child, led him from the sacred spot, and boxed the ears of the unlucky urchin in attendance.

To this hour I do not 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 passage of a donkey over that spot was the one great outrage of her life. In whatever occupation or conversation she was engaged, a donkey turned the current of her ideas, and she was upon him straight. Jugs of water were kept in secret places ready to be discharged on the offenders, sticks were laid in ambush behind the doors; sallies were made at all hours, and incessant war prevailed, which was perhaps an agreeable excitement to the donkey boys.

The bath was a great comfort, for I began to feel acute pains in my limbs, and was so tired that I could scarcely keep awake for five minutes together. Enrobed in clothes belonging to Mr. Dick, and tied up in great shawls, I fell asleep, on the sofa, and only awoke in time to dine off a roast fowl and pudding, while my aunt asked me a number of questions, and spoke of my mother and Peggotty, and in the afternoon we talked again and there was another alarm of Donkeys.

After tea we sat at the window until dusk, and shortly afterwards I was escorted up to a pleasant room at the top of the house. When I had said my prayers, and the candle had burnt out, I lay there yielding to a sensation of profound gratitude and rest, nestling in the snow white sheets, and I prayed that I might never be houseless any more, and might never forget the houseless.

At breakfast the following day, I found myself the object of my aunt's most rigid scrutiny.

"Hallo!" she said, after a time to attract my attention, and when I looked up she told me that she had written Mr. Murdstone in regard to me, under which information I became heavy of heart, for I felt that some efforts would be made to force me to return to the warehouse, while the more I saw of my aunt, the more sure I felt that she was the one with whom I wished to stay; that with all her eccentricities and humours, she was one to be honoured and trusted in.

On the second day after my arrival, my Aunt gave a sudden alarm of donkeys, and to my consternation I beheld Miss Murdstone ride over the sacred piece of green, and stop in front of the house.

"Go along with you!" cried my aunt, shaking her head and her fist at the window. "You have no business there. How dare you trespass? Oh! you bold-faced thing!"

I hurriedly told her who the offender was, and that Mr. Murdstone was behind her, but Aunt Betsey was frantic, and cried, "I don't care who it is--I won't allow it! Go away! Janet, lead him off!" and from behind my aunt, I saw the donkey pulled round by the bridle, while Mr. Murdstone tried to lead him on, and Miss Murdstone struck at Janet with a parasol, and several boys shouted vigorously. But my aunt suddenly discovering the donkey's guardian to be one of the most inveterate offenders against her, rushed out and pounced upon him, while the Murdstones waited until she should be at leisure to receive them. She marched past them into the house, a little ruffled by the combat, and took no notice of them until they were announced by Janet.

"Shall I go away, aunt?" I asked trembling.

"No, sir," said she. "Certainly not!" With which she pushed me into a corner, and fenced me in with a chair, as if it were a prison, and there I stayed. There were several sharp passages at arms between my aunt and the Murdstones, when my past, and my mother's life came up for discussion. Finally Mr. Murdstone said: