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Hello and welcome to Storytime for Grown Ups. I'm Faith Moore and this season we're reading David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. Each episode I'll read a few chapters from the book, pausing from time to time to give brief explanations so it's easier to follow along. It's like an audiobook with built in notes. So brew a pot of tea, find a cozy chair and settle in. It's story time. Hello. Welcome back. Are we all like swimming in tissues? Gosh, what a sad chapter. I'm so glad I'm here. I'm so glad we can talk about it together. So welcome, welcome back to Storytime for Grown Ups. I'm always so glad to be with you, but it just feels even more important to be together when something like this is going on. These characters feel real, don't they? They feel real to us. And that's the most beautiful, most wonderful thing. That's what I love about books, but that's what I love about doing this. It's because we are reading the same book at the same time. And that means that when something sad happens, we can commiserate together and we can be here together and experience it. And that's, that's a wonderful thing. So thank you for being here and being a part of this. It's really important. I'm so, so happy that this exists and that I get to do this with you. It's such a joy. So I am here in real time with you today. But just a reminder, the next three episodes after this one will be pre recorded. So I'm going away. I'm going to visit some family and I will be gone and then I will be back for the whole rest of the book. So I just am going to be away for three episodes and the they will still be coming out at the same time. I will do my best to talk about these chapters without your comments and questions. But then I will come back and revisit anything that we need to revisit. So I'm sorry again that I have to be away, but I am glad that once that's done, I will be back. And I would definitely not miss the end of the book with you. So I will be here for that. This is actually. So chapter 54 means that we are 10 chapters away from the end. This book has 64 chapters. So chapter 64 will happen on August 7th, 17th and then we'll have a conclusion episode on August 20th and then there'll be a bit of a break of like two weeks or so and then we'll come back with the next book and at the beginning of August I will drop the trailer for the next book. So when I have all of that set up, I will let you know. The thing that I did promise to tell you this time is the date of July's tea time. So I will tell you that now it's going to be Wednesday, July 29th at 8pm Eastern. Tea time happens in our online community which is called the Drawing Room. And you have to be a member of the drawing room and specifically a member of the Landed Gentry membership tier to participate in tea time, which is like a group chat, a voice chat. So I can hear you, you can hear me. And we talk about all kinds of things. Usually we talk about the book and we will do that again. We'll be almost done by that point. So we'll talk about where we are in the book at that point and. But we also talk about other things. Sometimes people ask me questions, sometimes we talk about, you know, kind of behind the scenes stuff, how I create the show. And you can ask anything you want. So I hope that you'll join us if you're interest, but you're not yet a member of the Drawing Room or you're not yet Landed Gentry, just scroll into the show notes and click on the link. It'll give you more information and tell you how to sign up and everything. And you can decide if that's what you want to do. So I hope that you will join us at the next tea time. It is Wednesday, July 29th at 8pm Eastern. Other than that, all of the usual reminders, just please subscribe. If you haven't done that already, please tap the five stars. If you've been enjoying the show, please leave a positive review in your podcast player. If you've been enjoying the show, those things really help other, other people to find the show who haven't heard of it before because it starts to pop up in their podcast player for some reason that I don't really understand. There's an algorithm I don't know, but it works. So please do that. And also please tell your friends because that's another way for people to find out about the show and I would love it if you would let people know. And then it's great because you have people in your life, in real life who are listening to this show and you have someone to talk to about it. So. So please tell everyone, spread the word. Okay, so last time we read chapter 53, today is going to be chapter 54. Let's remind ourselves if we need a reminder of what happened last time and then we'll continue on. And then I will leave you with pre recorded episodes while I'm gone and be back after the next three episodes. So here is the recap. Okay, so where we left off this chapter was another retrospective, but this time of the months leading up to Dora's death. David tells us that she had gotten weaker and weaker until the doctors stopped saying she would get well again. She now never comes downstairs but stays in bed and Miss Betsy and David take care of her day and night. Gyp has gotten old and seems to have lost his will to live. Dora is still cheerful and kind, but as time goes on she realizes that that she's dying. She tells David that she wants to see Agnes and he writes to her to tell her to come at once. Dora then tells David that she thinks it might have been better if they'd loved each other as children but then not married because she thinks that she could never be the wife to him that he deserved. And David feels terrible about this because he has thought the same thing from time to time, even though he truly loves her and is devastated that she's dying. Agnes comes and they all sit around Dora's bed chatting. But in the evening, Dora asks to speak to Agnes alone while David is downstairs. Gyp suddenly gives a little cry and dies at the same moment, Agnes comes downstairs and it's clear that Dora has died as well. All right, I'm going to read four comments this time. The first one comes from Julianne. She says I have to confess, I read ahead to this chapter. I don't usually get emotional while reading, but this chapter was the one that made me cry. It's so simple in its place. Beauty and heartbreak. I knew Dora was going to die soon, the moment she convinced David and Betsy to go to Canterbury. Though I initially feared she would die while they were gone, Dora really had a lot of emotional intelligence. It's fitting how it's silly, stupid Dora who knows she will die and accepts this while David clings to the hope she will somehow live. It's also fitting and even more sad how Gyp dies at the same time. This next one comes from Joseph Benny. He says chapter 53 touched my heartstrings like no other. Dickens is the best storyteller, how Dora's character arc has moved such that I am so touched by her passing and the parallels between what's happening to her and Jip. The next one comes from Susannah, she says even though I suspected it was coming soon. I cannot stop the tears after listening to chapter 53 and the simultaneous passing of Dora and Jip. Dickens writes so eloquently about death and grief. 175 years after writing this novel, his devastating prose continues to pierce us right through. It might take me a while to recover from that chapter. And the last one comes from Daniella. She says, I personally didn't like Dora up until the last few chapters. I think I changed my mind when David did. Her innocence and playfulness brought some fresh air to the book after listening to chapter 53. My heart sinks at the thought of losing such a sweet, dear character. It's powerful how you feel David's great love and sadness for Dora. His reflections show that he didn't regret his decision in marrying Dora. She made him happy and brought spunk to his life. Okay, so in a way, it almost feels like there's nothing to say. Or maybe it just feels like you guys already said it all. There's a way in which all I want to say is like, I am so sad. We're so sad. But I will try to be a little more articulate than that. I think that this is Dickens at his sentimental best. He is so, so good at pulling at our heartstrings. And the dialogue that he gives to Dora here is just so heartbreaking. And I think what all four of the letters I just read are saying is true. That. That we have come around finally to really, truly love Dora. Dickens has kind of orchestrated a really amazing feat of characterization because we began either by hating her. That was one camp, remember. Or by just feeling like she was kind of annoying or silly and we didn't want David to marry her. That was the other camp. We. We wrote her off. We wrote her off as childish and silly. We felt like she wasn't pulling her weight. We thought she was dumb and spo. We didn't understand what David saw in her. And now, not that many chapters later, we are, like, drowning in tissues because she's dead. I mean, that's great writing, but I think the thing that has really kind of slain us here, the thing that makes this already really devastating thing even more devastating, is the fact that in the end, we see that Dora loved David with a love that was pure and true and devoted, and that she understands all her shortcomings, things, and even, in a way, kind of welcomes death because it will release David. She sees what David has been sort of subconsciously realizing all this time, which is that had David not acted on the impulse of his undisciplined heart. He might not have married her, and she wants to set him free. But in marrying her and in committing to her and not giving in to that feeling that he's had that something was missing, David has sustained the first impulse of his infatuation and grown it into a deeper love, such that he can't imagine his life without her. It's beautifully sad, isn't it? And I think the emotional quality of this chapter is sort of crystallized for us by the fact that Dickens makes it another one of these retrospective chapters. These chapters, the retrospects, they're always written in the present tense, if you notice. And that makes them more immediate on the one hand. But there's also a way in which the presence of adult David is closer to us in the retrospect than he is in the other chapters, because he's speaking to us directly here. And so there's a way in which adult David, who has lived through this already and is wherever he is in the aftermath of all of this, it's like he is the main character of this chapter rather than the David who's actually experiencing Dora's death now. And that gives the chapter a kind of inevitability. We know right from the start of the chapter what is coming. David tells us. He says, I must pause yet again, O my child wife. There is a figure in the moving crowd before my memory, quiet and still, saying in its innocent love and childish beauty, stop to think of me. Turn to look upon the little blossom as it flutters to the ground. Okay, so we know right away that Dora is gonna die in this chapter. And that gives everything that happens in the chapter a kind of poignancy and heartbreaking vulnerability that it might not otherwise have. And because we know right off the bat that Dora isn't going to make it out of this chapter, we read it with a kind of dread as everything becomes imbued with the inevitability of her death, this death that is going to happen no matter what we do and no matter how much we've come to not want it to happen. And the chapter is also suffused with this sense that everyone, including Dora, knows that Dora is dying and that no one but Dora has the courage to say so. I mean, Dora begins by talking as if she's going to get well again, right? She says, when I can run about again, as I used to do, let us go and see those places where we were such a silly couple, shall we? And take some of the old walks and not forget poor Papa. But I think that she already knows. I think she's trying in this moment to kind of buoy David up and to play along with the pretense that she will get better so as not to upset David. She's taking care of him here. And she's also reminding him of their early courtship, before they were married and before she started to feel all the ways that she wasn't able to be the wife that David needed. She's reminding him of those carefree days before they were married. And there's a way in which Dora is trying to convince herself that David loves her, that he loves her, even though she has been so deficient as a wife and couldn't live up to all the things that he wanted her to be. She's trying to convince herself that he'll miss her when she's gone, because she knows she's going. She says, my empty chair. And then it says, she clings to me for a little while in silence, and you really miss me, Dodie, looking up and brightly smiling, even poor, giddy, stupid me. So she keeps talking about that empty chair and how lonely it is downstairs. And she keeps making David reassure her that he really is lonely without her, that he really does notice the empty chair. Because what's coming out now is that she has loved David so much, and she has felt that she was not good enough for him, that he is this great man and she is just a silly girl. And she wants to know that he did love her, that he will miss her when she's gone, which of course he will. And once she assures herself of that, then she's able to admit that she knows she's dying. And that then once she's assured that he does love her and that he will miss her, then she tells him this truly devastating thing. She says, I am afraid, dear. I was too young. I don't mean in years only, but in experience and thoughts and everything. I was such a silly little creature. I am afraid it would have been better if we had only loved each other as a boy and a girl and forgotten it. I have begun to think I was not fit to be a wife. And then later she says, oh, Dodie, after more years you never could have loved your child wife better than you do. And after more years she would so have tried and disappointed you that you might not have been able to love her half so well. I know I was too young and foolish. It is much better as it is. So she's saying that all the thoughts that David has had all the worries that he wouldn't have married her if he'd been older and wiser, that there was something missing in the marriage that they wouldn't ever be able to find together. Dora is saying that she knows all of this. She knows she wasn't what he needed. She knows that there is a part of David that she just couldn't access. And she's sorry. She's sorry because she loves him so much, and she wants more for him than she was able to give. And the thing that's so devastating about this is that it's true. But also, he doesn't want her to go. She's right. But also, he loves her. I mean, it makes me want to cry right now as I'm talking about it. And David hears this, and all of his unspoken and almost unnoticed thoughts about the things that are missing in the marriage, they come to the fore, and he feels both guilty for ever thinking them and also kind of worried that they're true. He says, would it indeed have been better if we had loved each other as a boy and a girl and forgotten it? Undisciplined heart reply. Okay. But of course, his heart doesn't reply. He just doesn't know. Because even though all of David's secret thoughts about his marriage and the things it's missing are true, he has never once thought that he didn't want to be married to Dora. His love for her has never wavered. I mean, we picked out Agnes for him as a, like, alternative wife or whatever, but he didn't do that. Dora is the only wife that he's ever wanted, the only wife that he's ever even considered. He has been unwaveringly faithful to her, and the idea that she's going to die is impossible for him to understand. He says, do I know now that my child wife will soon leave me? They have told me so. They have told me nothing new to my thoughts, but I am far from sure that I have taken that truth to heart. I cannot master it. I have withdrawn by myself many times today to weep. Okay, and then Dora makes this final request, right? She asks to see Agnes. And when Agnes comes, Dora asks that everyone leave her alone with Agnes and not come in under any circumstances. She says, I want to speak to Agnes. When you go downstairs, tell Agnes so and send her up to me. And while I speak to her, let no one come, not even Aunt. I want to speak to Agnes by herself. I want to speak to Agnes quite alone. And the question, of course, is why? What Is it that she wants to say to Agnes? We don't know, and David doesn't know. And all we know is that once she's said it, she feels that she can die because it's while she's with Agnes and that she dies. She's been telling David that she's ready to go, that she thinks it might be better that she dies. But she doesn't die until she says whatever it is that she has to say to Agnes. So what did she say? That is a mystery, right? We don't know. But it is Agnes, David's angel, this woman who we at least have picked out as the better wife, the better partner for David. It's Agnes that comes to David and gives him the news of Dora's death. And there's this heartbreaking thing with Jip, right? It's sort of like Chip and Dora are one being almost that at the very moment that Dora goes out of the world, Jyp does too, because David is looking at Jip and trying to tell Agnes that Jip is dead. And it's in that moment that Agnes is trying to tell David that Dora has died. David says, oh, Agnes, look. Look here. And then it says, that face so full of pity and of grief, that rain of tears, that awful mute appeal to me, that silence, solemn hand upraised towards heaven. Agnes, it is over. And I think it's lovely that it is Agnes who comes to bring this news to David. Because Agnes has always been David's angel. And here David says that her hand is upraised toward heaven. So it's like an angel has come to take Dora to heaven and also to comfort David in his grief. And the fact that Dora summoned Agnes there and didn't die until she came. And it's almost like Dora has made sure that David has someone with him who will make him feel safe and loved and cared for at a time when he needs it the most. So even though Agnes has always been David's angel, Dora has acted like an angel here, too. She's taking care of David. She's absolving him for his feelings that maybe there was something missing in their marriage. And she's showing him how proud she was to be, for a time, loved by a man like him. So now David is a widower, right? He's gone through all these stages. We followed him along through all these stages, and here's another one. He's a widower. And, you know, I hate that I now have to leave you for a while. I want to stay with you. And stay together in our grief. But I am glad that I was here to get to talk about this chapter with you and to get your letters and share them with you. So as I say, I'll be gone for the next three episodes, but they're pre recorded and ready to go and so they will come out at the usual times and I've done my best to talk about the chapters without your letters and when I get back we will really be in the home stretch here. I can't believe it. So enjoy the next three episodes without me and I will be back after that to finish the book together. And please do write to me in the meantime, write to me all along, all the time. It's faithk moore.com and click on Contact or you can scroll into the show notes, click the link that is there, and send me all your questions and thoughts. I will be very happy to see them coming into my inbox while I am away. So please do get in touch. All right, let's get started with chapter 54 of David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. It's story time. Chapter 54 Mr. Micawber's transactions this is not the time at which I am to enter on the state of my mind beneath its load of sorrow. I came to think that the future was walled up before me, that the energy and action of my life were at an end, that I never could find any refuge. But in the grave I came to think, so I say, but not in the first shock of my grief. It slowly grew to that if the events I go on to relate had not thickened around me in the beginning to confuse, and in the end to augment my affliction, it is possible, though I think not probable, that I might have fallen at once into this condition. As it was, an interval occurred before I fully knew my own distress, an interval in which I even supposed that its sharpest pangs were past. And when my mind could soothe itself by resting on all that was most innocent and beautiful in the tender story that was closed forever when it was first proposed that I should go abroad, or how it came to be agreed among us that I was to seek the restoration of my peace in change and travel, I do not even now distinctly know the spirit of Agnes so pervaded all we thought and said and did in that time of sorrow, that I assume I may refer the project to her influence. But her influence was so quiet that I know no more. And now indeed I began to think that in my old association of her with the stained glassed window in the church A prophetic foreshadowing of what she would be to me in the calamity that was to happen in the fulness of time had found a way into my mind in all that sorrow, from the moment never to be forgotten when she stood before me with her upraised hand she was like a sacred presence in my lonely house. When the angel of death alighted there, my child wife fell asleep. They told me so when I could bear to hear it on her bosom. With a smile from my swoon I first awoke to a consciousness of her compassionate tears, her words of hope and peace, her gentle face bending down as from a purer region nearer heaven over my undisciplined heart and softening its pain. Let me go on. I was to go abroad. That seemed to have been determined among us from the first. The ground now covering all that could perish of my departed wife. I waited only for what Mr. Micawber called the final pulverization of Heep and for the departure of the immigrants. At the request of Traddles most affectionate and devoted of friends in my trouble, we returned to Canterbury. I mean, my Aunt Agnes and I. We proceeded by appointment straight to Mr. Micawber's house where and at Mr. Wickfield's my friend had been labouring ever since our explosive meeting. When poor Mrs. Micawber saw me come in in my black clothes, she was sensibly affected. There was a great deal of good in Mrs. Micawber's heart which had not been dunned out of it in all those many years. Well, Mr. And Mrs. Micawber was my aunt's first salutation after we were seated. Pray, have you thought about that emigration proposal of mine? My dear madam, returned Mr. Micawber. Perhaps I cannot better express the conclusion at which Mrs. Micawber, your humble servant, and I may add, our children have jointly and severally arrived than by borrowing the language of an illustrious poet to reply that our boat is on the shore and our bark is on the sea. Meaning they will be going to Australia. That's right, said my aunt. I augur all sort of good from your sensible decision, madam. You do us a great deal of honor, he rejoined. He then referred to a memorandum with respect to the pecuniary assistance enabling us to launch our flight frail canoe on the ocean of enterprise. I have reconsidered that important business point and would beg to propose my notes of hand drawn, it is needless to stipulate on stamps of the amounts respectively required by the various Acts of Parliament applying to such securities at 18, 24 and 30 months. The proposition I originally submitted was 12, 18 and 24. But I am apprehensive that such an arrangement might not allow sufficient time for the requisite amount of something to turn up. We might not, said Mr. Micawber, looking round the room as if it represented several hundred acres of highly cultivated land. On the first responsibility becoming Jew have been successful in our harvest, or we might not have got our harvest in Labor, I believe, is sometimes difficult to obtain in that part of our colonial possessions where it will be our lot to combat with the teeming soil. Arrange it any way you please, sir, said my aunt. Madam, he replied, Mrs. Macawber and myself are deeply sensible of the very considerate kindness of our friends and patrons. What I wish is to be perfectly businesslike and perfectly punctual, turning over, as we are about to turn over, an entirely new leaf, and falling back, as we are now in the act of falling back, for a spring of no common magnitude. It is important to my sense of self respect, besides being an example to my son, that these arrangements should be concluded as between man and man. I don't know that Mr. Micawber attached any meaning to this last phrase. I don't know that anybody ever does or did. But he appeared to relish it uncommonly and repeated with an impressive cough, as between man and man. I propose, said Mr. Micawber, bills a convenience to the mercantile world, for which I believe we are originally indebted to the Jews, who appear to me to have had a devilish deal too much to do with them ever since because they are negotiable. Mr. McCabe is promoting a stereotypical and anti Semitic view that was fairly prevalent at the time about Jews being unscrupulous money lenders. But if a bond or any other description of security would be preferred, I should be happy to execute any such instrument as between man and man. My aunt observed that in a case where both parties were willing to agree to anything, she took it for granted there would be no difficulty in settling this point. Mr. Macabre was of her opinion in reference to our domestic preparations. Madam, said Mr. Macawer, with some pride for meeting the destiny to which we are now understood to be self devoted. I beg to report them. My eldest daughter attends at 5 every morning in a neighboring establishment to acquire the process, if process it may be called, of milking cows. My younger children are instructed to observe as closely as circumstances will permit the habits of the pigs and poultry maintained in the poorer parts of this city, a pursuit from which they have on two occasions been brought home within an inch of being run over. I have myself directed some attention during the past week to the art of baking, and my son Wilkins has issued forth with a walking sea stick and driven cattle, when permitted by the rugged hirelings who had them in charge, to render any voluntary service in that direction, which, I regret to say, for the credit of our nature, was not often he being generally warned with imprecations to desist. All very right indeed, said my aunt encouragingly. Mrs. Micawber has been busy too, I have no doubt, my dear madam, returned Mrs. Micawber with her business like air. I am free to confess that I have not been actively engaged in pursuits immediately connected with cultivation or with stock, though well aware that both will claim my attention on a foreign shore. Such opportunities as I have been enabled to alienate from my domestic duties, I have devoted to corresponding at some length with my family, for I own. It seems to me, my dear Mr. Copperfield, said Mrs. Micawber, who always fell back on me, I suppose, from old habit, to whomsoever else she might address her discourse at starting, that the time is come when the past should be buried in oblivion, when my family should take Mr. Micawber by the hand and Mr. Micawber should take my family by the hand, when the lion should lie down with the lamb and my family be on terms with Mr. Micawber, I said. I thought so too. This, at least, is the light, my dear Mr. Copperfield, pursued Mrs. Micawber, in which I view the subject. When I lived at home with my papa and mamma, my papa was accustomed to ask, when any point was under discussion in our limited circle, in what light does my Emma view the subject? That my papa was too partial, I know still, on such a point as the frigid queen coldness which has ever subsisted between Mr. Micawber and my family, I necessarily have formed an opinion, delusive though it may be. No doubt. Of course you have, ma', am, said my aunt. Precisely so, assented Mrs. Micawber. Now I may be wrong in my conclusions. It is very likely that I am. But my individual impression is that the gulf between my family and Mr. Micawber may be traced to an apprehension on the part of my family that Mr. Micawber would require pecuniary accommodation. I cannot help thinking, said Mrs. Micawber, with an air of deep sagacity, that there are members of my family who have been apprehensive that Mr. Micawber would solicit them for their names. I do not mean to be conferred in baptism upon our children, but to be inscribed on bills of exchange and negotiated in the money market. The look of penetration with which Mrs. Micawber announced this discovery, as if no one had ever thought of it before, seemed rather to astonish my aunt, who abruptly replied, well, ma', am, upon the whole, I shouldn't wonder if you were right, Mr. Micawber, being now on the eve of casting off the pecuniary shackles that have so long enthralled him, said Mrs. Micawber, and of commencing a new career in a cloud country where there is sufficient range for his abilities, which in my opinion is exceedingly important, Mr. Micawber's abilities peculiarly requiring space, it seems to me that my family should signalize the occasion by coming forward. What I could wish to see would be a meeting between Mr. Micawber and my family at a festive entertainment to be given at my family's expense, where Mr. Micawber's health and prosperity being proposed by some leading member of my family, Mr. Micawber might have an opportunity of developing his views. My dear, said Mr. Micawber with some heat, it may be better for me to state distinctly at once that if I were to develop my views to that assembled group, they would possibly be found of an offensive nature, My impression being that your family are in the aggregate and impertinent snobs, and in detail, unmitigated ruffians. Micawber, said Mrs. Micawber, shaking her head. No, you have never understood them, and they have never understood you. Mr. Micawber coughed. They have never understood you, Micawber, said his wife. They may be incapable of it. If so, that is their misfortune. I can pity their misfortune. I am extremely sorry, my dear Emma, said Mr. Micawber, relenting, to have been betrayed into any expressions that might even remotely have the appearance of being strong expressions. All I would say is that I can go abroad without your family coming forward to favor me, in short, with a parting shove of their cold shoulders, and that upon the whole I would rather leave England without such impetus as I possess than derive any acceleration of it from that quarter. At the same time, my dear, if they should condescend to reply to your communications, which our joint experience renders most improbable, far be it from me to be a barrier to your wishes. The matter being thus amicably settled, Mr. Micawber gave Mrs. Micawber his arm, and, glancing at the Heap of books and papers lying before Traddles on the table said they would leave us to ourselves, which they ceremoniously did. My dear Copperfield, said Traddles, leaning back in his chair when they were gone and looking at me with an affection that made his eyes red and his hair all kinds of shapes. I don't make any excuse for troubling you with business because I know you are deeply interested in it and it may divert your thoughts. My dear boy, I hope you are not worn out. I am quite myself, said I after a pause. We have more cause to think of my aunt than of any one. You know how much she has done. Surely, surely, answered Traddles. Who can forget it? But even that is not all, said I. During the last fortnight some new trouble has vexed her, and she has been in and out of London every day. Several times she has gone out early and been absent until evening last night. Traddles, with this journey before her, it was almost midnight before she came home. You know what her consideration for others is. She will not tell me what has happened to distress her. My aunt, very pale and with deep lines in her face, sat immovable until I had finished, when some stray tears found their way to her cheeks and she put her hand on mine. It's nothing, Trot. It's nothing. There will be no more of it. You shall know by and by. Now, Agnes, my dear, let us attend to these affairs. I must do Mr. Micawber the justice to say, Traddles began, that although he would appear not to have worked to any good account for himself, he is a most untiring man when he works for other people. I never saw such a fellow. If he always goes on in the same way, he must be virtually about 200 years old at present. The heat into which he has been continually putting himself and the distracted and impetuous manner in which he has been diving day and night among papers and books, to say nothing of the immense number of letters he has written me between this house and Mr. Wickfield's, and often across the table when he has been sitting opposite and might much more easily have spoken, is quite extraordinary. Letters. Cried my aunt. I believe he dreams in letters. There's Mr. Dick too, said Traddles has been doing wonders. As soon as he was released from overlooking Uriah Heep, whom he kept in such charge as I never saw exceeded, he began to devote himself to Mr. Wickfield and really his anxiety to be of use in the investigations we have been making, and his real usefulness in extracting and copying and fetching and carrying have been quite stimulating to us. Dick is a very remarkable man, Exclaimed my aunt, and I always said he was trot. You know it, I am happy to say Miss Wickfield pursued Traddles at once with great delicacy and with great earnestness, that in your absence Mr. Wickfield has considerably improved, relieved of the incubus that had fastened upon him for so long a time, and of the dreadful apprehension. Apprehensions under which he had lived. He is hardly the same person. At times even his impaired power of concentrating his memory and attention on particular points of business has recovered itself very much, and he has been able to assist us in making some things clear that we should have found very difficult indeed, if not hopeless, without him. But what I have to do is to come to results which are short enough not to gossip on all the hopeful circumstances I have observed, or I shall never have done. His natural manner and agreeable simplicity made it transparent that he said this to put us in good heart and to enable Agnes to hear her father mentioned with greater confidence. But it was not the less pleasant for that. Now, let me see, said Traddles, looking among the papers on the table. Having counted our funds and reduced to order a great mass of unintentional confusion in the first place, and of wilful confusion and falsification in the second, we take it to be clear that Mr. Wickfield might now wind up his business and his agency trust and exhibit no deficiency or defalcation whatever. Meaning Mr. Wakefield will not be in debt. He isn't totally ruined. Oh, thank heaven. Cried Agnes fervently. But, said Traddles, the surplus that would be left as his means of support, and I suppose the house to be sold, even in saying this, would be so small, not exceeding in all probability some hundreds of pounds, that perhaps, Miss Wickfield, it would be best to consider whether he might not retain his agency of the estate to which he has so long been receiver. His friends might advise him, you know, now he is free. You yourself, Miss Wickfield. Copperfield. I. I have considered it, Trotwood, said Agnes, looking to me, and I feel that it ought not to be, and must not be, even on the recommendation of a friend to whom I am so grateful and owe so much, I will not say that I recommend it, observed Traddles. I think it right to suggest it no more. I am happy to hear you say so, answered Agnes steadily, for it gives me hope, almost assurance that we think alike. Dear Mr. Traddles, and dear Trotwood, Papa, once free with honour, what could I wish for? I have always espied if I could have released him from the toils in which he was held, to render back some little portion of the love and care I owe him and to devote my life to him. It has been for years the utmost height of my hopes to take our future on. Myself will be the next great happiness. The next to his release from all trust and responsibility. That I can know. Have you thought how, Agnes? Often. I am not afraid, dear Trotwood. I am certain of success. So many people know me here and think kindly of me. That I am certain. Don't mistrust me. Our wants are not many. If I rent the dear old house and keep a school, I shall be useful and happy. Okay, so Mr. Wakefield isn't well enough to continue running his business and making money. But he does need money, because while he's not in debt, he doesn't have enough left to live. Live on. But Agnes is saying that she will be the one to make the money by renting out their house and opening up a school. The calm fervor of her cheerful voice brought back so vividly first the dear old house itself and then my solitary home, that my heart was too full for speech. Traddles pretended for a little while to be busily looking at some papers. Next, Ms. Trotwood, said Traddles, that property of yours. Well, sir, sighed my aunt, all I have got to say about it is that if it's gone, I can bear it. And if it's not gone, I shall be glad to get it back. It was originally, I think, 8,000 pounds. Consols, said Traddles, meaning Consolidated Annuities, which were a sort of bond with a fixed interest rate. Right, replied my aunt. I can't account for more than five, said Traddles with an air of perplexity. Thousand, do you mean? Inquired my aunt, with uncommon composure. Or pounds? 5,000 pounds, said Traddles. It was all there was returned, my aunt. I sold three myself. One I paid for your articles, Trot, my dear. And the other two I have by me when I lost the rest. I thought it wise to say nothing about that sum, but to keep it secretly for a rainy day. I wanted to see how you would come out of the trial, Trot. And you came out nobly persevering, self reliant, self denying. So did Dick. Don't speak to me, for I find my nerves a little shaken. Nobody would have thought so to see her sitting upright with her arms folded, but she had wonderful self command. Then I am delighted to say, cried Traddles, beaming with joy, that we have recovered the whole money. Don't congratulate me anybody, exclaimed my aunt. How so, sir? You believed it had been misappropriated by Mr. Wickfield, said Traddles. Of course I did, said my aunt, and was therefore easily silenced. Agnes, not a word. And indeed, said Traddles, it was sold by virtue of the power of management he held from you. But I needn't say by whom sold, or on whose actual signature. It was afterwards pretended to Mr. Wickfield by that rascal, and proved too by figures that he had possessed himself of the money. On general instructions he said to keep other deficiencies and difficulties from the light. Mr. Wickfield, being so weak and helpless in his hands as to pay you afterwards several sums of interest on a pretended principle which he knew did not exist, made himself unhappily a party to the fraud, and at last took the blame upon himself, added my aunt, and wrote me a mad letter charging himself with robbery and wrong unheard of, upon which I paid him a visit early one morning, called for a candle, burnt the letter, and told him if he ever could write me and himself to do it, and if he couldn't, to keep his own counsel for his daughter's sake. If anybody speaks to me, I'll leave the house. Okay. So she's just told them that she did an incredibly kind thing thing to Mr. Wickfield and didn't blame him for taking her money when he thought he'd accidentally robbed her. But she says she doesn't want anyone to praise her, and if anyone does, then she'll just leave. We all remained quiet, Agnes covering her face. Well, my dear friend, said my aunt after a pause, and you have really extorted the money back from him? Why, the fact is, returned traddles Mr. Micawber had so completely hemmed him in, and was always ready with so many new points if an old one failed, that he could not escape from us. A most remarkable circumstance is that I really don't think he grasped this sum even so much for the gratification of his avarice, which was inordinate as in the hatred he felt for Copperfield. He said so to me plainly. He said he would even have spent as much to bulk or injure Copperfield. Ha, said my aunt, knitting her brows thoughtfully and glancing at Agnes. And what's become of him? I don't know. He left here, said Traddles, with his mother who had been clamouring and beseeching and disclosing the whole time they went away by one of the London night coaches and I know no more about him, except that his malevolence to me at parting was audacious. He seemed to consider himself hardly less indebted to me than to Mr. Micawber, which I consider, as I told him, quite a compliment. Do you suppose he has any money, Traddles? I asked. Oh, dear, yes, I should think so, he replied, shaking his head seriously. I should say he must have pocketed a good deal in one way or other. But I think you would find Copperfield, if you had an opportunity of observing his course. That money would never keep that man out of mischief. He is such an incarnate hypocrite that whatever object he pursues, he must pursue crookedly. It's his only compensation for the outward restraints he puts upon himself, always creeping along the ground to some small end or other. He will always magnify every object in the way, and consequently will hate and suspect everybody that comes in the most innocent manner between him and it. So the crooked courses will become crookeder at any moment, for the least reason or for none. It's only necessary to consider his history here, said Traddles, to know that he's a monster of meanness, said my aunt. Really, I don't know about that, observed Traddles thoughtfully. Many people can be very mean when they give their minds to it. And now. Touching, Mr. Micawber, said my aunt. Well, really, said Traddles cheerfully, I must Once more give Mr. Micawber high praise. But for his having been so patient and persevering for so long a time, we never could have hoped to do anything worth speaking of. And I think we ought to consider that Mr. Macawer did right for right's sake, when we reflect what terms he might have made with Uriah Heap himself for his silence. I think so too, said I. Now what would you give him? Inquired my aunt. Oh, before you come to that, said Traddles, a little disconcerted, I am afraid. I thought it discreet to omit not being able to carry everything before me two points in making this lawless adjustment, for it's perfectly lawless from beginning to end of a difficult affair. Those IOUs and so forth which Mr. Micawber gave him for the advances he had. Well, they must be paid, said my aunt. Yes, but I don't know when they may be proceeded on, or where they are rejoined chattels opening his eyes. And I anticipate that between this time and his departure Mr. Micawber will be constantly arrested or taken in execution. Then he must be constantly set free again and taken out of execution, said my aunt. What's the amount altogether? Why, Mr. Micawber has entered the transactions. He calls them transactions with great form in a book, rejoined Traddles, smiling. And he makes the amount 103 lbs. 5. Okay, so this is the amount that Mr. Micawber owes. And if he doesn't pay it off, he'll be arrested. Now, what shall we give him? That sum included, said my aunt Agnes. My dear, you and I can talk about division of it afterwards. What should it be? £500. Upon this, traddles and I both struck in at once. We both recommended a small sum in money and the payment without stipulation to Mr. Micawber of the Uriah claims. As they came in, we proposed that the family should have their passage and their outfit and a hundred pounds grants and that Mr. Micawber's arrangement for the repayment of the advances should be gravely entered into as it might be wholesome for him to suppose himself under that responsibility. To this I added the suggestion that I should give some explanation of his character and history to Mr. Peggotty who I knew could be relied on and that to Mr. Peggotty should be quietly entrusted the discretion of advancing another hundred. I further proposed to interest Mr. Micawber in Mr. Peggotty by confiding so much of Mr. Peggotty's story to him as I might feel justified in relating or might think expedient and to endeavor to bring each of them to bear upon the other for the common advantage. We all entered warmly into these views and I may mention at once that the principals themselves did so shortly afterwards with perfect goodwill and harmony. Okay, so they don't want to give Mr. Micawber too much money all at once because they know he'll spend it. So they're going to introduce him to Mr. Peggotty and have Mr. Peggotty kind of dole money out to him as he needs it. And they'll tell Mr. McCawber about Emily. And that will make Mr. McCawber want to help Mr. Peggotty as much as he can because Mr. Macawer likes to help everyone when it's not about himself. Seeing that Traddles now glanced anxiously at my aunt again I reminded him of the second and last point to which he had adverted. You and your aunt will excuse me, Copperfield, if I touch upon a painful theme as I greatly fear I shall, said Traddles, hesitating, but I think it necessary to bring it to your recollection. On the day of Mr. Micawber's memorable denunciation, a threatening allusion was made by Uriah Heep to your aunt's husband. My aunt, retaining her stiff position and apparent composure, assented with a nod. Perhaps, observed Traddles, it was mere purposeless impertinence. No, returned my aunt. There waspardon me really such a person and at all in his power? Hinted Traddles. Yes, my good friend, said my aunt. Traddles, with a perceptible lengthening of his face, explained that he had not been able to approach this subject, that it had shared the fate of Mr. Micawber's liabilities in not being comprehended in the terms he had made, that we were no longer of any authority with Uriah Heep, and that if he could do us, or any of us, any injury or annoyance, no doubt he would. My aunt remained quiet until again some stray tears found their way to her cheeks. You are quite right, she said. It was very thoughtful to mention it. Can I or Copperfield do anything? Asked Traddles gently. Nothing, said my aunt. I thank you many times. Trot, my dear, a vain threat. Let us have Mr. And Mrs. Micawber back, and don't any of you speak to me. With that she smoothed her dress and sat with her upright carriage, looking at the door. Well, Mr. And Mrs. Micawber, said my aunt when they entered, we have been discussing your emigration, with many apologies to you for keeping you out of the room so long. And I'll tell you what arrangements we proposed. These she explained, to the unbounded satisfaction of the family, children and all being then present, and so much to the awakening of Mr. Micawber's punctual habits in the opening stage of all bill transactions, that he could not be dissuaded from immediately rushing out in the highest spirits to buy the stamps for his notes of hand. But his joy received a sudden check, for within five minutes he returned in the custody of a sheriff's officer, informing us in a flood of tears that all was lost, we, being quite prepared for this event, which was of course a proceeding of Uriah Heep's, soon paid the money, and in Five minutes more Mr. Micawber was seated at the table, filling up the stamps with an expression of perfect joy, which only that congenial employment or the making of punch could impart in full completeness to his shining face. To see him at work on the stamps with the relish of an artist, touching them like pictures, looking at them sideways, taking weighty notes of dates and amounts in his pocketbook and contemplating them when finished, with a high sense of their precious value, was a sight indeed. Now, the best thing you can do, sir, if you'll allow me to advise you, said my aunt after silently observing him, is to abjure that occupation forevermore. Madam, replied Mr. Micawber, it is my intention to register such a vow on the virgin page of the future Mrs. Micawber will attest it. I trust, said Mr. Micawber solemnly, that my son Wilkins will ever bear in mind that he had infinitely better put his fist in the fire than use it to handle the serpents that have poisoned the life blood of his unhappy parent. Deeply affected and changed in a moment to the image of despair, Mr. Micawber regarded the serpents with a look of gloomy abhorrence in which his late admiration of them was not quite subdued, folded them up and put them in his pocket. This closed the proceedings of the evening. We were weary with sorrow and fatigue and my aunt and I were to return to London on the morrow. It was arranged that the Micawbers should follow us after effecting a sale of their goods to a broker, that Mr. Wickfield's affairs should be brought to a settlement with all convenient speed under the direction of Traddles, and that Agnes should also come to London pending those arrangements. We passed the night at the old house which, freed from the presence of the heaps, seemed purged of a disease. And I lay in my old room like a shipwrecked wanderer come home. We went back next day to my aunt's house, not to mine. And when she and I sat alone as of old before going to bed, she said, trot, do you really wish to know what I have had upon my mind lately? Indeed I do, aunt. If there ever was a time when I felt unwilling that you should have a sorrow or anxiety which I could not share, it is now. You have had sorrow enough, child, said my aunt affectionately. Without the addition of my little miseries, I could have no other motive, Trot, in keeping anything from you. I know that well, said I. But tell me now, would you ride with me a little way to morrow morning? Asked my aunt. Of course. At nine, said she. I'll tell you then, my dear, at nine. Accordingly, we went out in a little chariot and drove to London. We drove a long way through the streets until we came to one of the large hospitals. Standing hard by the building was a plain hearse the driver recognized my aunt and in obedience to a motion of her hand at the window, and drove slowly off. We following. You understand it now, Trot, said my aunt. He is gone. Meaning her husband is dead. Did he die in the hospital? Yes. She sat immovable beside me, but again I saw the stray tears on her face. He was there once before, said my aunt presently. He was ailing a long time, a shattered, broken man. These many years. When he knew his state in this last illness, he asked them to send for me. He was sorry then. Very sorry. You went. I know, aunt, I went. I was with him a good deal afterwards. He died the night before we went to Canterbury, said I. My aunt nodded. No one can harm him now, she said. It was a vain threat. We drove away out of town to the churchyard at Hornsey. Better here than in the streets, said my aunt. He was born here. We alighted and followed the plain coffin to a corner. I remember well where the service was read, consigning it to the dust. Six and thirty years ago this day, my dear, said my aunt as we walked back to the chariot. I was married. God forgive us all. We took our seats in silence. And so she sat beside me for a long time, holding my hand. At length she suddenly burst into tears and said, he was a fine looking man when I married him, Trot. And he was sadly changed. It did not last long after the relief of tears. She soon became composed and even cheerful. Her nerves were a little shaken, she said, or she would not have given way to it. God forgive us all. So we rode back to her little cottage at Highgate, where we found the following short note which had arrived by that Morning's post from Mr. Micawber, Canterbury, my dear madam, and Copperfield, the fair land of promise lately looming on the horizon, is again enveloped in impenetrable mist and forever withdrawn from the eyes of a drifting wretch whose doom is sealed. Another writ has been issued in his Majesty's High Court of King's Bench at Westminster in another cause of heap v. Macabre, and the defendant in that cause is the prey of the Sheriff, having legal jurisdiction in this bailiwick. Now's the day and now's the hour. See the front of battle lour. See approach proud Edward's power chains and slavery consigned to which and to a speedy end. For mental torture is not supportable beyond a certain point, and that point I feel I have attained. My course is run. Bless you. Bless you. Some future traveler visiting from motives of curiosity not unmingled let us hope with sympathy, the place of confinement allotted to debtors in this city may, and I trust will ponder as he traces on its wall, inscribed with a rusty nail, the obscure initials wm. Okay, so he's saying that he's been arrested again because there are all these debts that he owes to Uriah because he kept giving him IOUs and now Uriah is saying he owes him that money back. Psychological. I reopen this to say that our common friend, Mr. Thomas Traddles, who has not yet left us and is looking extremely well, has paid the debt and costs in the noble name of Ms. Trotwood, and that myself and family are at the height of earthly bliss. Thank you so much for listening. I'd love to know what you thought of the chapters. Is there anything you'd like me to clarify? Did something particularly interest you? Please go to my website faithkmoore.com click on contact and send me your questions and thoughts. Or you can click on the link in the Show Notes to contact me. I'll feature one or two of your entries at the start of the next episode. Speaking of links, don't forget to take a look at the other links in the Show Notes. You can learn more about me, check out our merch store, or become a member of the Storytime for Grown Ups online community. Before I go, I'd like to ask a quick favor. This is an independent podcast. It's produced, recorded and marketed by me, so I need your help. 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