CHAPTER 49 - I AM INVOLVED IN MYSTERY

I received one morning by the post, the following letter, dated

Canterbury, and addressed to me at Doctor's Commons; which I read

with some surprise:

'MY DEAR SIR,

'Circumstances beyond my individual control have, for a

considerable lapse of time, effected a severance of that intimacy

which, in the limited opportunities conceded to me in the midst of

my professional duties, of contemplating the scenes and events of

the past, tinged by the prismatic hues of memory, has ever afforded

me, as it ever must continue to afford, gratifying emotions of no

common description. This fact, my dear sir, combined with the

distinguished elevation to which your talents have raised you,

deters me from presuming to aspire to the liberty of addressing the

companion of my youth, by the familiar appellation of Copperfield!

It is sufficient to know that the name to which I do myself the

honour to refer, will ever be treasured among the muniments of our

house (I allude to the archives connected with our former lodgers,

preserved by Mrs. Micawber), with sentiments of personal esteem

amounting to affection.

'It is not for one, situated, through his original errors and a

fortuitous combination of unpropitious events, as is the foundered

Bark (if he may be allowed to assume so maritime a denomination),

who now takes up the pen to address you - it is not, I repeat, for

one so circumstanced, to adopt the language of compliment, or of

congratulation. That he leaves to abler and to purer hands.

'If your more important avocations should admit of your ever

tracing these imperfect characters thus far - which may be, or may

not be, as circumstances arise - you will naturally inquire by what

object am I influenced, then, in inditing the present missive?

Allow me to say that I fully defer to the reasonable character of

that inquiry, and proceed to develop it; premising that it is not

an object of a pecuniary nature.

'Without more directly referring to any latent ability that may

possibly exist on my part, of wielding the thunderbolt, or

directing the devouring and avenging flame in any quarter, I may be

permitted to observe, in passing, that my brightest visions are for

ever dispelled - that my peace is shattered and my power of

enjoyment destroyed - that my heart is no longer in the right place

- and that I no more walk erect before my fellow man. The canker

is in the flower. The cup is bitter to the brim. The worm is at

his work, and will soon dispose of his victim. The sooner the

better. But I will not digress.

'Placed in a mental position of peculiar painfulness, beyond the

assuaging reach even of Mrs. Micawber's influence, though exercised

in the tripartite character of woman, wife, and mother, it is my

intention to fly from myself for a short period, and devote a

respite of eight-and-forty hours to revisiting some metropolitan

scenes of past enjoyment. Among other havens of domestic

tranquillity and peace of mind, my feet will naturally tend towards

the King's Bench Prison. In stating that I shall be (D. V.) on the

outside of the south wall of that place of incarceration on civil

process, the day after tomorrow, at seven in the evening,

precisely, my object in this epistolary communication is

accomplished.

'I do not feel warranted in soliciting my former friend Mr.

Copperfield, or my former friend Mr. Thomas Traddles of the Inner

Temple, if that gentleman is still existent and forthcoming, to

condescend to meet me, and renew (so far as may be) our past

relations of the olden time. I confine myself to throwing out the

observation, that, at the hour and place I have indicated, may be

found such ruined vestiges as yet

'Remain,

'Of

'A

'Fallen Tower,

'WILKINS MICAWBER.

'P.S. It may be advisable to superadd to the above, the statement

that Mrs. Micawber is not in confidential possession of my

intentions.'

I read the letter over several times. Making due allowance for Mr.

Micawber's lofty style of composition, and for the extraordinary

relish with which he sat down and wrote long letters on all

possible and impossible occasions, I still believed that something

important lay hidden at the bottom of this roundabout

communication. I put it down, to think about it; and took it up

again, to read it once more; and was still pursuing it, when

Traddles found me in the height of my perplexity.

'My dear fellow,' said I, 'I never was better pleased to see you.

You come to give me the benefit of your sober judgement at a most

opportune time. I have received a very singular letter, Traddles,

from Mr. Micawber.'

'No?' cried Traddles. 'You don't say so? And I have received one

from Mrs. Micawber!'

With that, Traddles, who was flushed with walking, and whose hair,

under the combined effects of exercise and excitement, stood on end

as if he saw a cheerful ghost, produced his letter and made an

exchange with me. I watched him into the heart of Mr. Micawber's

letter, and returned the elevation of eyebrows with which he said

"'Wielding the thunderbolt, or directing the devouring and avenging

flame!" Bless me, Copperfield!'- and then entered on the perusal of

Mrs. Micawber's epistle.

It ran thus:

'My best regards to Mr. Thomas Traddles, and if he should still

remember one who formerly had the happiness of being well

acquainted with him, may I beg a few moments of his leisure time?

I assure Mr. T. T. that I would not intrude upon his kindness, were

I in any other position than on the confines of distraction.

'Though harrowing to myself to mention, the alienation of Mr.

Micawber (formerly so domesticated) from his wife and family, is

the cause of my addressing my unhappy appeal to Mr. Traddles, and

soliciting his best indulgence. Mr. T. can form no adequate idea

of the change in Mr. Micawber's conduct, of his wildness, of his

violence. It has gradually augmented, until it assumes the

appearance of aberration of intellect. Scarcely a day passes, I

assure Mr. Traddles, on which some paroxysm does not take place.

Mr. T. will not require me to depict my feelings, when I inform him

that I have become accustomed to hear Mr. Micawber assert that he

has sold himself to the D. Mystery and secrecy have long been his

principal characteristic, have long replaced unlimited confidence.

The slightest provocation, even being asked if there is anything he

would prefer for dinner, causes him to express a wish for a

separation. Last night, on being childishly solicited for

twopence, to buy 'lemon-stunners' - a local sweetmeat - he

presented an oyster-knife at the twins!

'I entreat Mr. Traddles to bear with me in entering into these

details. Without them, Mr. T. would indeed find it difficult to

form the faintest conception of my heart-rending situation.

'May I now venture to confide to Mr. T. the purport of my letter?

Will he now allow me to throw myself on his friendly consideration?

Oh yes, for I know his heart!

'The quick eye of affection is not easily blinded, when of the

female sex. Mr. Micawber is going to London. Though he studiously

concealed his hand, this morning before breakfast, in writing the

direction-card which he attached to the little brown valise of

happier days, the eagle-glance of matrimonial anxiety detected, d,

o, n, distinctly traced. The West-End destination of the coach, is

the Golden Cross. Dare I fervently implore Mr. T. to see my

misguided husband, and to reason with him? Dare I ask Mr. T. to

endeavour to step in between Mr. Micawber and his agonized family?

Oh no, for that would be too much!

'If Mr. Copperfield should yet remember one unknown to fame, will

Mr. T. take charge of my unalterable regards and similar

entreaties? In any case, he will have the benevolence to consider

this communication strictly private, and on no account whatever to

be alluded to, however distantly, in the presence of Mr. Micawber.

If Mr. T. should ever reply to it (which I cannot but feel to be

most improbable), a letter addressed to M. E., Post Office,

Canterbury, will be fraught with less painful consequences than any

addressed immediately to one, who subscribes herself, in extreme

distress,

'Mr. Thomas Traddles's respectful friend and suppliant,

'EMMA MICAWBER.'

'What do you think of that letter?' said Traddles, casting his eyes

upon me, when I had read it twice.

'What do you think of the other?' said I. For he was still reading

it with knitted brows.

'I think that the two together, Copperfield,' replied Traddles,

'mean more than Mr. and Mrs. Micawber usually mean in their

correspondence - but I don't know what. They are both written in

good faith, I have no doubt, and without any collusion. Poor

thing!' he was now alluding to Mrs. Micawber's letter, and we were

standing side by side comparing the two; 'it will be a charity to

write to her, at all events, and tell her that we will not fail to

see Mr. Micawber.'

I acceded to this the more readily, because I now reproached myself

with having treated her former letter rather lightly. It had set

me thinking a good deal at the time, as I have mentioned in its

place; but my absorption in my own affairs, my experience of the

family, and my hearing nothing more, had gradually ended in my

dismissing the subject. I had often thought of the Micawbers, but

chiefly to wonder what 'pecuniary liabilities' they were

establishing in Canterbury, and to recall how shy Mr. Micawber was

of me when he became clerk to Uriah Heep.

However, I now wrote a comforting letter to Mrs. Micawber, in our

joint names, and we both signed it. As we walked into town to post

it, Traddles and I held a long conference, and launched into a

number of speculations, which I need not repeat. We took my aunt

into our counsels in the afternoon; but our only decided conclusion

was, that we would be very punctual in keeping Mr. Micawber's

appointment.

Although we appeared at the stipulated place a quarter of an hour

before the time, we found Mr. Micawber already there. He was

standing with his arms folded, over against the wall, looking at

the spikes on the top, with a sentimental expression, as if they

were the interlacing boughs of trees that had shaded him in his

youth.

When we accosted him, his manner was something more confused, and

something less genteel, than of yore. He had relinquished his

legal suit of black for the purposes of this excursion, and wore

the old surtout and tights, but not quite with the old air. He

gradually picked up more and more of it as we conversed with him;

but, his very eye-glass seemed to hang less easily, and his

shirt-collar, though still of the old formidable dimensions, rather

drooped.

'Gentlemen!' said Mr. Micawber, after the first salutations, 'you

are friends in need, and friends indeed. Allow me to offer my

inquiries with reference to the physical welfare of Mrs.

Copperfield in esse, and Mrs. Traddles in posse, - presuming, that

is to say, that my friend Mr. Traddles is not yet united to the

object of his affections, for weal and for woe.'

We acknowledged his politeness, and made suitable replies. He then

directed our attention to the wall, and was beginning, 'I assure

you, gentlemen,' when I ventured to object to that ceremonious form

of address, and to beg that he would speak to us in the old way.

'My dear Copperfield,' he returned, pressing my hand, 'your

cordiality overpowers me. This reception of a shattered fragment

of the Temple once called Man - if I may be permitted so to express

myself - bespeaks a heart that is an honour to our common nature.

I was about to observe that I again behold the serene spot where

some of the happiest hours of my existence fleeted by.'

'Made so, I am sure, by Mrs. Micawber,' said I. 'I hope she is

well?'

'Thank you,' returned Mr. Micawber, whose face clouded at this

reference, 'she is but so-so. And this,' said Mr. Micawber,

nodding his head sorrowfully, 'is the Bench! Where, for the first

time in many revolving years, the overwhelming pressure of

pecuniary liabilities was not proclaimed, from day to day, by

importune voices declining to vacate the passage; where there was

no knocker on the door for any creditor to appeal to; where

personal service of process was not required, and detainees were

merely lodged at the gate! Gentlemen,' said Mr. Micawber, 'when the

shadow of that iron-work on the summit of the brick structure has

been reflected on the gravel of the Parade, I have seen my children

thread the mazes of the intricate pattern, avoiding the dark marks.

I have been familiar with every stone in the place. If I betray

weakness, you will know how to excuse me.'

'We have all got on in life since then, Mr. Micawber,' said I.

'Mr. Copperfield,' returned Mr. Micawber, bitterly, 'when I was an

inmate of that retreat I could look my fellow-man in the face, and

punch his head if he offended me. My fellow-man and myself are no

longer on those glorious terms!'

Turning from the building in a downcast manner, Mr. Micawber

accepted my proffered arm on one side, and the proffered arm of

Traddles on the other, and walked away between us.

'There are some landmarks,' observed Mr. Micawber, looking fondly

back over his shoulder, 'on the road to the tomb, which, but for

the impiety of the aspiration, a man would wish never to have

passed. Such is the Bench in my chequered career.'

'Oh, you are in low spirits, Mr. Micawber,' said Traddles.

'I am, sir,' interposed Mr. Micawber.

'I hope,' said Traddles, 'it is not because you have conceived a

dislike to the law - for I am a lawyer myself, you know.'

Mr. Micawber answered not a word.

'How is our friend Heep, Mr. Micawber?' said I, after a silence.

'My dear Copperfield,' returned Mr. Micawber, bursting into a state

of much excitement, and turning pale, 'if you ask after my employer

as your friend, I am sorry for it; if you ask after him as MY

friend, I sardonically smile at it. In whatever capacity you ask

after my employer, I beg, without offence to you, to limit my reply

to this - that whatever his state of health may be, his appearance

is foxy: not to say diabolical. You will allow me, as a private

individual, to decline pursuing a subject which has lashed me to

the utmost verge of desperation in my professional capacity.'

I expressed my regret for having innocently touched upon a theme

that roused him so much. 'May I ask,' said I, 'without any hazard

of repeating the mistake, how my old friends Mr. and Miss Wickfield

are?'

'Miss Wickfield,' said Mr. Micawber, now turning red, 'is, as she

always is, a pattern, and a bright example. My dear Copperfield,

she is the only starry spot in a miserable existence. My respect

for that young lady, my admiration of her character, my devotion to

her for her love and truth, and goodness! - Take me,' said Mr.

Micawber, 'down a turning, for, upon my soul, in my present state

of mind I am not equal to this!'

We wheeled him off into a narrow street, where he took out his

pocket-handkerchief, and stood with his back to a wall. If I

looked as gravely at him as Traddles did, he must have found our

company by no means inspiriting.

'It is my fate,' said Mr. Micawber, unfeignedly sobbing, but doing

even that, with a shadow of the old expression of doing something

genteel; 'it is my fate, gentlemen, that the finer feelings of our

nature have become reproaches to me. My homage to Miss Wickfield,

is a flight of arrows in my bosom. You had better leave me, if you

please, to walk the earth as a vagabond. The worm will settle my

business in double-quick time.'

Without attending to this invocation, we stood by, until he put up

his pocket-handkerchief, pulled up his shirt-collar, and, to delude

any person in the neighbourhood who might have been observing him,

hummed a tune with his hat very much on one side. I then mentioned

- not knowing what might be lost if we lost sight of him yet - that

it would give me great pleasure to introduce him to my aunt, if he

would ride out to Highgate, where a bed was at his service.

'You shall make us a glass of your own punch, Mr. Micawber,' said

I, 'and forget whatever you have on your mind, in pleasanter

reminiscences.'

'Or, if confiding anything to friends will be more likely to

relieve you, you shall impart it to us, Mr. Micawber,' said

Traddles, prudently.

'Gentlemen,' returned Mr. Micawber, 'do with me as you will! I am

a straw upon the surface of the deep, and am tossed in all

directions by the elephants - I beg your pardon; I should have said

the elements.'

We walked on, arm-in-arm, again; found the coach in the act of

starting; and arrived at Highgate without encountering any

difficulties by the way. I was very uneasy and very uncertain in

my mind what to say or do for the best - so was Traddles,

evidently. Mr. Micawber was for the most part plunged into deep

gloom. He occasionally made an attempt to smarten himself, and hum

the fag-end of a tune; but his relapses into profound melancholy

were only made the more impressive by the mockery of a hat

exceedingly on one side, and a shirt-collar pulled up to his eyes.

We went to my aunt's house rather than to mine, because of Dora's

not being well. My aunt presented herself on being sent for, and

welcomed Mr. Micawber with gracious cordiality. Mr. Micawber

kissed her hand, retired to the window, and pulling out his

pocket-handkerchief, had a mental wrestle with himself.

Mr. Dick was at home. He was by nature so exceedingly

compassionate of anyone who seemed to be ill at ease, and was so

quick to find any such person out, that he shook hands with Mr.

Micawber, at least half-a-dozen times in five minutes. To Mr.

Micawber, in his trouble, this warmth, on the part of a stranger,

was so extremely touching, that he could only say, on the occasion

of each successive shake, 'My dear sir, you overpower me!' Which

gratified Mr. Dick so much, that he went at it again with greater

vigour than before.

'The friendliness of this gentleman,' said Mr. Micawber to my aunt,

'if you will allow me, ma'am, to cull a figure of speech from the

vocabulary of our coarser national sports - floors me. To a man

who is struggling with a complicated burden of perplexity and

disquiet, such a reception is trying, I assure you.'

'My friend Mr. Dick,' replied my aunt proudly, 'is not a common

man.'

'That I am convinced of,' said Mr. Micawber. 'My dear sir!' for

Mr. Dick was shaking hands with him again; 'I am deeply sensible of

your cordiality!'

'How do you find yourself?' said Mr. Dick, with an anxious look.

'Indifferent, my dear sir,' returned Mr. Micawber, sighing.

'You must keep up your spirits,' said Mr. Dick, 'and make yourself

as comfortable as possible.'

Mr. Micawber was quite overcome by these friendly words, and by

finding Mr. Dick's hand again within his own. 'It has been my

lot,' he observed, 'to meet, in the diversified panorama of human

existence, with an occasional oasis, but never with one so green,

so gushing, as the present!'

At another time I should have been amused by this; but I felt that

we were all constrained and uneasy, and I watched Mr. Micawber so

anxiously, in his vacillations between an evident disposition to

reveal something, and a counter-disposition to reveal nothing, that

I was in a perfect fever. Traddles, sitting on the edge of his

chair, with his eyes wide open, and his hair more emphatically

erect than ever, stared by turns at the ground and at Mr. Micawber,

without so much as attempting to put in a word. My aunt, though I

saw that her shrewdest observation was concentrated on her new

guest, had more useful possession of her wits than either of us;

for she held him in conversation, and made it necessary for him to

talk, whether he liked it or not.

'You are a very old friend of my nephew's, Mr. Micawber,' said my

aunt. 'I wish I had had the pleasure of seeing you before.'

'Madam,' returned Mr. Micawber, 'I wish I had had the honour of

knowing you at an earlier period. I was not always the wreck you

at present behold.'

'I hope Mrs. Micawber and your family are well, sir,' said my aunt.

Mr. Micawber inclined his head. 'They are as well, ma'am,' he

desperately observed after a pause, 'as Aliens and Outcasts can

ever hope to be.'

'Lord bless you, sir!' exclaimed my aunt, in her abrupt way. 'What

are you talking about?'

'The subsistence of my family, ma'am,' returned Mr. Micawber,

'trembles in the balance. My employer -'

Here Mr. Micawber provokingly left off; and began to peel the

lemons that had been under my directions set before him, together

with all the other appliances he used in making punch.

'Your employer, you know,' said Mr. Dick, jogging his arm as a

gentle reminder.

'My good sir,' returned Mr. Micawber, 'you recall me, I am obliged

to you.' They shook hands again. 'My employer, ma'am - Mr. Heep

- once did me the favour to observe to me, that if I were not in

the receipt of the stipendiary emoluments appertaining to my

engagement with him, I should probably be a mountebank about the

country, swallowing a sword-blade, and eating the devouring

element. For anything that I can perceive to the contrary, it is

still probable that my children may be reduced to seek a livelihood

by personal contortion, while Mrs. Micawber abets their unnatural

feats by playing the barrel-organ.'

Mr. Micawber, with a random but expressive flourish of his knife,

signified that these performances might be expected to take place

after he was no more; then resumed his peeling with a desperate

air.

My aunt leaned her elbow on the little round table that she usually

kept beside her, and eyed him attentively. Notwithstanding the

aversion with which I regarded the idea of entrapping him into any

disclosure he was not prepared to make voluntarily, I should have

taken him up at this point, but for the strange proceedings in

which I saw him engaged; whereof his putting the lemon-peel into

the kettle, the sugar into the snuffer-tray, the spirit into the

empty jug, and confidently attempting to pour boiling water out of

a candlestick, were among the most remarkable. I saw that a crisis

was at hand, and it came. He clattered all his means and

implements together, rose from his chair, pulled out his

pocket-handkerchief, and burst into tears.

'My dear Copperfield,' said Mr. Micawber, behind his handkerchief,

'this is an occupation, of all others, requiring an untroubled

mind, and self-respect. I cannot perform it. It is out of the

question.'

'Mr. Micawber,' said I, 'what is the matter? Pray speak out. You

are among friends.'

'Among friends, sir!' repeated Mr. Micawber; and all he had

reserved came breaking out of him. 'Good heavens, it is

principally because I AM among friends that my state of mind is

what it is. What is the matter, gentlemen? What is NOT the

matter? Villainy is the matter; baseness is the matter; deception,

fraud, conspiracy, are the matter; and the name of the whole

atrocious mass is - HEEP!'

MY aunt clapped her hands, and we all started up as if we were

possessed.

'The struggle is over!' said Mr. Micawber violently gesticulating

with his pocket-handkerchief, and fairly striking out from time to

time with both arms, as if he were swimming under superhuman

difficulties. 'I will lead this life no longer. I am a wretched

being, cut off from everything that makes life tolerable. I have

been under a Taboo in that infernal scoundrel's service. Give me

back my wife, give me back my family, substitute Micawber for the

petty wretch who walks about in the boots at present on my feet,

and call upon me to swallow a sword tomorrow, and I'll do it. With

an appetite!'

I never saw a man so hot in my life. I tried to calm him, that we

might come to something rational; but he got hotter and hotter, and

wouldn't hear a word.

'I'll put my hand in no man's hand,' said Mr. Micawber, gasping,

puffing, and sobbing, to that degree that he was like a man

fighting with cold water, 'until I have - blown to fragments - the

- a - detestable - serpent - HEEP! I'll partake of no one's

hospitality, until I have - a - moved Mount Vesuvius - to eruption

- on - a - the abandoned rascal - HEEP! Refreshment - a -

underneath this roof - particularly punch - would - a - choke me -

unless - I had - previously - choked the eyes - out of the head -

a - of - interminable cheat, and liar - HEEP! I - a- I'll know

nobody - and - a - say nothing - and - a - live nowhere - until I

have crushed - to - a - undiscoverable atoms - the - transcendent

and immortal hypocrite and perjurer - HEEP!'

I really had some fear of Mr. Micawber's dying on the spot. The

manner in which he struggled through these inarticulate sentences,

and, whenever he found himself getting near the name of Heep,

fought his way on to it, dashed at it in a fainting state, and

brought it out with a vehemence little less than marvellous, was

frightful; but now, when he sank into a chair, steaming, and looked

at us, with every possible colour in his face that had no business

there, and an endless procession of lumps following one another in

hot haste up his throat, whence they seemed to shoot into his

forehead, he had the appearance of being in the last extremity. I

would have gone to his assistance, but he waved me off, and

wouldn't hear a word.

'No, Copperfield! - No communication - a - until - Miss Wickfield

- a - redress from wrongs inflicted by consummate scoundrel -

HEEP!' (I am quite convinced he could not have uttered three words,

but for the amazing energy with which this word inspired him when

he felt it coming.) 'Inviolable secret - a - from the whole world

- a - no exceptions - this day week - a - at breakfast-time - a -

everybody present - including aunt - a - and extremely friendly

gentleman - to be at the hotel at Canterbury - a - where - Mrs.

Micawber and myself - Auld Lang Syne in chorus - and - a - will

expose intolerable ruffian - HEEP! No more to say - a - or listen

to persuasion - go immediately - not capable - a - bear society -

upon the track of devoted and doomed traitor - HEEP!'

With this last repetition of the magic word that had kept him going

at all, and in which he surpassed all his previous efforts, Mr.

Micawber rushed out of the house; leaving us in a state of

excitement, hope, and wonder, that reduced us to a condition little

better than his own. But even then his passion for writing letters

was too strong to be resisted; for while we were yet in the height

of our excitement, hope, and wonder, the following pastoral note

was brought to me from a neighbouring tavern, at which he had

called to write it: -

'Most secret and confidential.

'MY DEAR SIR,

'I beg to be allowed to convey, through you, my apologies to your

excellent aunt for my late excitement. An explosion of a

smouldering volcano long suppressed, was the result of an internal

contest more easily conceived than described.

'I trust I rendered tolerably intelligible my appointment for the

morning of this day week, at the house of public entertainment at

Canterbury, where Mrs. Micawber and myself had once the honour of

uniting our voices to yours, in the well-known strain of the

Immortal exciseman nurtured beyond the Tweed.

'The duty done, and act of reparation performed, which can alone

enable me to contemplate my fellow mortal, I shall be known no

more. I shall simply require to be deposited in that place of

universal resort, where

Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep,

'- With the plain Inscription,

'WILKINS MICAWBER.'

Read next: CHAPTER 50 - Mr. PEGGOTTY'S DREAM COMES TRUE

Read previous: CHAPTER 48 - DOMESTIC

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