43. CHARLES DICKENS: DAVID COPPERFIELD: CHAPTER 43: Another Retrospect

Once again, let me pause upon a memorable period of my life.  Let weeks, months, seasons pass along.  They seem a little more than a summer day and winter evening.  Now the Commons where I walk with Dora is in full bloom, a field of bright gold, and now the unseen heather lies in mounds and bunches underneath a covering of snow.  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 old ladies.  The clock ticks over the fireplace, the weather-glass hangs in the hall.  Neither clock nor the 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 pertaining to this art, and I have joined with eleven others in reporting the debates in parliament for a Morning Newspaper.  Night after night I make predictions that never 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 way.  He is perfectly good humoured respecting his failure, and reminds me that he always did consider himself slow.  He had occasional employment in the same newspaper, in getting up the facts of dry subjects, to be written about and embellished by more fertile minds.  He was called to the bar, and with admirable industry and self-denial would scrape another hundred pounds together, to fee a conveyancer whose chambers he used to attend.  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 had come out in another way.  I had taken to authorship, with fear and trembling.  I wrote a little something, in secret, and sent it to a magazine, and it was published.  Since then, I had taken heart to write a good many trifles.  I was regularly paid for them.  Altogether I was well off.  I passed the third finger and take in the fourth to the middle joint.

We had moved from the Buckingham Street to a very pleasant little cottage at another place.  My aunt had sold the house at Dover at a good price.  She intended to move to a tiny cottage close at hand.  She will not be with me after my marriage.

Yes!  I was going to be married to Dora!  Miss Lavinia and Miss Clarissa had given their consent; and they were in a flutter.  Miss Lavinia took charge of my darling's wardrobe, had been constantly cutting out brown paper cuirasses.  A highly respectable gentleman, with a long bundle and yard measur under his arm, was in argument with her.  A dress maker, always stabbed in the breast with a needle and thread, boards and lodges in the house, and seemed to me, eating, drinking or sleeping, never to take her thimble off.  They made a lay figure of my dear.  They were always sending for her to come and try something on.  We couldn't be together for five minutes in the evening, but some intrusive female would knock at the door, and would say '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 would see a Chinese house for Jip, with little bells on the top, and would prefer that.  And it took a long time to accustom Jip to his new residence, after we had bought it; whenever he went in or out, he would make all the little bells ring, and was horribly frightened.

Peggotty came up, and fell to work immediately.  She cleaned everything over and over again, rubbed everything that can be rubbed, until it shined.  I began to see her solitary brother passing through the dark streets at night, and looking as he went, among the wandering faces.  I knew what he was seeking and what he dreaded.

I went to take out my marriage license.  It is a document which carried the seal of Stamp Office and conveyed the blessings of the Arch Bishop of Canterbury.

I was in a dream.  I couldn't believe that it was going to be.  Traddles was in attendance as my general backer.

'I hope the next time you come here, my dear fellow,' I said to him, it will be the same errand for yourself.  And I hope it will be soon.'

'Thank you for your good wishes, my dear Copperfield, he replied, 'I hope so too.  It's a satisfaction to know that she'll wait for me any length of time, and that she really is the dearest girl.'

'When are you to meet her at the coach?' I asked.

'At seven,' said Traddles, looking at the plain old silver watch - the very watch he once took  a wheel out of, at school, to make a water-mill.  

'That's about Miss Wickfield's time, is it not?'

'A little earlier.  Her time is half past eight.  I assure you, my dear boy,' said Traddles, 'I am almost as pleased, as if I were going to be married myself, to think that this event is coming to such a happy termination.  And really the great friendship and consideration of personally associating Sophy with the joyful occasion, and inviting her to be a bridesmaid in conjunction with Miss Wickfield, demands my warmest thanks.  I am extremely sensible of it.'

I shook hands with him, and we walked and walked and dined, and so on; but I didn't believe it.  Nothing was real.

Sophy arrived at the house of Dora's aunts.  She had the most agreeable of faces- not absolutely beautiful, but extraordinarily pleasant - and was one of the genial, unaffected, frank, engaging creatures.  Traddles presented her to us with great pride; and rubbed his hands for ten minutes by the clock, with every individual hair upon his head stood upright, when I congratulated him.

I had brought Agnes from the Canterbury coach, and her cheerful face was among us for the second time.  Agnes had a liking for Traddles, and it is hearty to see them meet.

Next day, when we went in a flock to see our house, I was quite unable to regard myself as the owner of the house.  It was a very beautiful house, with everything bright and new - the flowers on the carpet, the green leaves on the paper, the spotless muslin curtains, the rose-coloured furniture, Dora's blue hat hanging on its little peg, the guitar case in a corner, Jip's pagoda on which everyone tumbled.  I looked for Dora, but she was not there.  Miss Lavinia peeped in and whispered to me that 'she will not be long.'  But it seemed long and heavy, but by and by, there was a rustle of dress at the door, followed by light taps.

I said 'come in!'  The answer was more taps.

I went to the door, wondering who it was.  My eyes met a pair of bright eyes and came the blushing face of Dora.  She was in her tomorrow's dress, and bonnet, and all for me to see.  I took my little wife to my heart, and Miss Lavinia gave a little scream because I tumbled the bonnet, and Dora laughed and cried at once.

'Do you think it pretty, Doady?' said Dora.

'Pretty! I should rather think.'

'And are you sure you like me very much?' said Dora.

The topic is fraught with such danger to the bonnet, that Miss Lavinia gave another little scream, and begged me to understand that Dora was to be looked at, and not to be touched.  So Dora stood in delightful confusion to be admired, and then took off her bonnet - looking so natural without it - and ran away with it in her hand, and came down dancing in her own familiar dress and asked Jip if I have got a beautiful little wife, and whether he would forgive her for being married, and kneeled down to make him stand upon the Cookery Book for the last time in her single life.

I went home more incredulous than ever, to a lodging that I had hard by, and got up very early in the morning, rode to the Highgate road to fetch my aunt.

My aunt was dressed in lavender-coloured silk, and had a white bonnet on.  Peggotty was ready to go to church, to witness the ceremony from the gallery.  Mr Dick, who was to give my darling to me at the altar, had had his hair curled.  Traddles, whom I had taken up at the Turnpike, presented a dazzling combination of cream and light blue, and both he and Mr Dick had a general effect about them of being all gloves.

As we drove along in an open carriage, the fairy marrige was was real enough to fill me with wonder and pity for the unfortunate people who had no part in it, but were sweeping out the shops and going to their daily chores.

My aunt sat with my hand in hers all the way.  When we stopped a little way short of the church, to put down Peggotty, whom we had brought on the box, she gave it a squeeze, and me a kiss.

'God bless you, Trot!  My own boy never could be dearer.  I think of poor dear baby this morning.'

'So do I.  And all I owe to you, dear aunt.'

'Tut, child!' said my aunt, and gave her hand in overflowing cordiality to Traddles, who then gave his to Mr Dick, who then gave his to me, who then gave mine to Traddles, and then we came down to the church door.

The church was calm enough, I am sure; but it might be a steam-power loom in full of action, for any sedative effect it had on me.  I was too far gone for that.

The rest was all a more or less incoherent dream.

A dream of their coming in with Dora, of the pew-opener arranging us, like a drill-sergeant, before the altar rails; of my wondering over then, why pew-openers must always be the most disagreeable females procurable, and whether there was any religious dread of a disastrous infection of good humour which rendered it indispensable to set those vessels of vinegar upon the road to Heaven.

Of the clergy men and clerks appearing, of a few boatmen and other people strolling in, of an ancient mariner behind me, strongly flavouring the church with rum, of the service begining in a deep voice, and  all our being very attentive.

Of Miss Lavinia who acts as a semi-auxiliary bridesmaid, being the first to cry, and of her doing homage to the memory of Pidger, in sobs; of Miss Clarissa applying a smelling bottle; of Agnes taking care of Dora, of my aunt endeavouring to represent herself as a model of sternness, with tears rolling down her face; of little Dora trembling very much, and making her responses in faint whispers.

Of our kneeling down together, side by side, of Dora's trembling less and less, but always clasping Agnes by hand, of the service being got through, quietly and gravely; of our all looking at each other in an April state of smiles and tears, when it was over; of my young being hysterical in the vestry, and crying, for for poor papa, her dear papa. 

Of her soon cheering up again, and our singing the register all round.  Of my going into the gallery for Peggotty to bring her to sign it, of Peggotty hugging me in a corner, and telling me she saw my dear mother married, of its being over, and our going away.

Of my walking so proudly and lovingly down the aisle with my sweet wife upon my arm, through a mist of half-seen people, pulpits, and monuments, pews, fonts, organs, and church windows in which there fluttered faint airs of association childhood memory of church at home so long ago.

Of their whispering as we passed, what a youthful couple we were, what a pretty little wife she was.  Of our all being so merry and talkative in the carriage going back.  Of Sophy telling us that when she saw Traddles, she asked about marriage licence, and he told that he had lost it, and she almost fainted.  Of Agnes laughing gaily, and Dora being so fond of Agnes, that she did not separate from her, but continued to keep her hand.

Of there being a breakfast, with abundance of things, pretty and substantial, to eat and drink, whereof I partook, as I did in any other dream, without the least perception of their flavour. Eating, drinking love and marriage, and nothing else.

Of my making a speech in the same dreamy fashion, without having the idea of what I want to say.  Of our being being sociable and simple and happy, of Jip's having wedding cake.

Of the hired post-horses being ready, and of Dora's going away to change her dress.  Of my aunt and Miss Clarissa remaining with us; and our walking in the garden; and my aunt, who had made quite a speech at breakfast touching Dora's arms, being amused, and a little proud of it too. 

Of Dora being ready, and Miss Lavinia hovering about her, Loth to lose the pretty toy that got her occupied pleasantly.  Of Dora's making a series of surprised discoveries that she had forgotten this or that, and everybody running here and there to fetch them.

Of their all closing about Dora, to say goodbye, their bright colours and ribbons like a bed of flowers. 

Of my wanting to carry Jip, and Dora's saying no, that she must carry him or else he would think she stopped liking him, because she was married, and would break his heart. 

Of our going, arm in arm, and Dora stopping and looking back, and saying, 'If I have ever been cross or ungrateful to anybody of you don't remember it!' and bursting into tears.

Of her waving her little hand, and our going away once more.  Or her once more stopping, and looking back, and hurrying to Agnes, above all the others, her last kisses and farewell.

We drove away together, and I awoke from the dream.  I believe it at last.  It is my dear, dear, little wife beside me, whom I love so well! 

'Are you happy now, you foolish boy?' said Dora, 'and sure you don't repent it?'

I had stood aside to see the Phantoms of those days go by me.  They are gone, and I resume the journey of my story.

              THE END OF CHAPTER 43