Chapter 63 - A Visitor

What I have purposed to record is nearly finished; but there is yet anincident conspicuous in my memory, on which it often rests with delight,and without which one thread in the web I have spun would have aravelled end.

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

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

As this sounded mysterious to the children, and moreover was like thebeginning of a favourite story Agnes used to tell them, introductoryto the arrival of a wicked old Fairy in a cloak who hated everybody, itproduced some commotion. One of our boys laid his head in his mother'slap to be out of harm's way, and little Agnes (our eldest child) lefther doll in a chair to represent her, and thrust out her little heapof golden curls from between the window-curtains, to see what happenednext.

'Let him come in here!' said I.

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

It WAS Mr. Peggotty. An old man now, but in a ruddy, hearty, strong oldage. When our first emotion was over, and he sat before the fire withthe children on his knees, and the blaze shining on his face, he looked,to me, as vigorous and robust, withal as handsome, an old man, as ever Ihad seen.

'Mas'r Davy,' said he. And the old name in the old tone fell sonaturally on my ear! 'Mas'r Davy, 'tis a joyful hour as I see you, oncemore, 'long with your own trew wife!'

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

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

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

'Are you alone?' asked Agnes.

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

We sat him between us, not knowing how to give him welcome enough; andas I began to listen to his old familiar voice, I could have fancied hewas still pursuing his long journey in search of his darling niece.

'It's a mort of water,' said Mr. Peggotty, 'fur to come across, andon'y stay a matter of fower weeks. But water ('specially when 'tis salt)comes nat'ral to me; and friends is dear, and I am heer. --Which isverse,' said Mr. Peggotty, surprised to find it out, 'though I hadn'tsuch intentions.'

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

'Yes, ma'am,' he returned. 'I giv the promise to Em'ly, afore I comeaway. You see, I doen't grow younger as the years comes round, and ifI hadn't sailed as 'twas, most like I shouldn't never have done 't. Andit's allus been on my mind, as I must come and see Mas'r Davy and yourown sweet blooming self, in your wedded happiness, afore I got to be tooold.'

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

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

'Our fortuns, Mas'r Davy,' he rejoined, 'is soon told. We haven't farednohows, but fared to thrive. We've allus thrived. We've worked as weought to 't, and maybe we lived a leetle hard at first or so, butwe have allus thrived. What with sheep-farming, and what withstock-farming, and what with one thing and what with t'other, we are aswell to do, as well could be. Theer's been kiender a blessing fell uponus,' said Mr. Peggotty, reverentially inclining his head, 'and we'vedone nowt but prosper. That is, in the long run. If not yesterday, whythen today. If not today, why then tomorrow.'

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

'Em'ly,' said he, 'arter you left her, ma'am--and I never heerd hersaying of her prayers at night, t'other side the canvas screen, when wewas settled in the Bush, but what I heerd your name--and arter she andme lost sight of Mas'r Davy, that theer shining sundown--was that low,at first, that, if she had know'd then what Mas'r Davy kep from us sokind and thowtful, 'tis my opinion she'd have drooped away. But theerwas some poor folks aboard as had illness among 'em, and she took careof them; and theer was the children in our company, and she took care ofthem; and so she got to be busy, and to be doing good, and that helpedher.'

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

'I kep it from her arter I heerd on 't,' said Mr. Peggotty, 'goingon nigh a year. We was living then in a solitary place, but among thebeautifullest trees, and with the roses a-covering our Beein to theroof. Theer come along one day, when I was out a-working on the land, atraveller from our own Norfolk or Suffolk in England (I doen't rightlymind which), and of course we took him in, and giv him to eat and drink,and made him welcome. We all do that, all the colony over. He'd got anold newspaper with him, and some other account in print of the storm.That's how she know'd it. When I came home at night, I found she know'dit.'

He dropped his voice as he said these words, and the gravity I so wellremembered overspread his face.

'Did it change her much?' we asked.

'Aye, for a good long time,' he said, shaking his head; 'if not to thispresent hour. But I think the solitoode done her good. And she had adeal to mind in the way of poultry and the like, and minded of it, andcome through. I wonder,' he said thoughtfully, 'if you could see myEm'ly now, Mas'r Davy, whether you'd know her!'

'Is she so altered?' I inquired.

'I doen't know. I see her ev'ry day, and doen't know; But, odd-times, Ihave thowt so. A slight figure,' said Mr. Peggotty, looking at the fire,'kiender worn; soft, sorrowful, blue eyes; a delicate face; a prittyhead, leaning a little down; a quiet voice and way--timid a'most. That'sEm'ly!'

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

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

He drew his hand across his face, and with a half-suppressed sigh lookedup from the fire.

'Is Martha with you yet?' I asked.

'Martha,' he replied, 'got married, Mas'r Davy, in the second year. Ayoung man, a farm-labourer, as come by us on his way to market with hismas'r's drays--a journey of over five hundred mile, theer and back--madeoffers fur to take her fur his wife (wives is very scarce theer), andthen to set up fur their two selves in the Bush. She spoke to me fur totell him her trew story. I did. They was married, and they live fowerhundred mile away from any voices but their own and the singing birds.'

'Mrs. Gummidge?' I suggested.

It was a pleasant key to touch, for Mr. Peggotty suddenly burst into aroar of laughter, and rubbed his hands up and down his legs, as he hadbeen accustomed to do when he enjoyed himself in the long-shipwreckedboat.

'Would you believe it!' he said. 'Why, someun even made offer fur tomarry her! If a ship's cook that was turning settler, Mas'r Davy, didn'tmake offers fur to marry Missis Gummidge, I'm Gormed--and I can't say nofairer than that!'

I never saw Agnes laugh so. This sudden ecstasy on the part of Mr.Peggotty was so delightful to her, that she could not leave offlaughing; and the more she laughed the more she made me laugh, and thegreater Mr. Peggotty's ecstasy became, and the more he rubbed his legs.

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

'If you'll believe me,' returned Mr. Peggotty, 'Missis Gummidge, 'steadof saying "thank you, I'm much obleeged to you, I ain't a-going furto change my condition at my time of life," up'd with a bucket as wasstanding by, and laid it over that theer ship's cook's head 'till hesung out fur help, and I went in and reskied of him.'

Mr. Peggotty burst into a great roar of laughter, and Agnes and I bothkept him company.

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

'Now, last, not least, Mr. Micawber,' said I. 'He has paid off everyobligation he incurred here--even to Traddles's bill, you remember mydear Agnes--and therefore we may take it for granted that he is doingwell. But what is the latest news of him?'

Mr. Peggotty, with a smile, put his hand in his breast-pocket, andproduced a flat-folded, paper parcel, from which he took out, with muchcare, a little odd-looking newspaper.

'You are to understan', Mas'r Davy,' said he, 'as we have left theBush now, being so well to do; and have gone right away round to PortMiddlebay Harbour, wheer theer's what we call a town.'

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

'Bless you, yes,' said Mr. Peggotty, 'and turned to with a will. I neverwish to meet a better gen'l'man for turning to with a will. I've seenthat theer bald head of his a perspiring in the sun, Mas'r Davy, till Ia'most thowt it would have melted away. And now he's a Magistrate.'

'A Magistrate, eh?' said I.

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

'The public dinner to our distinguished fellow-colonist and townsman,WILKINS MICAWBER, ESQUIRE, Port Middlebay District Magistrate, cameoff yesterday in the large room of the Hotel, which was crowded tosuffocation. It is estimated that not fewer than forty-seven personsmust have been accommodated with dinner at one time, exclusive of thecompany in the passage and on the stairs. The beauty, fashion, andexclusiveness of Port Middlebay, flocked to do honour to one sodeservedly esteemed, so highly talented, and so widely popular. DoctorMell (of Colonial Salem-House Grammar School, Port Middlebay) presided,and on his right sat the distinguished guest. After the removal of thecloth, and the singing of Non Nobis (beautifully executed, and in whichwe were at no loss to distinguish the bell-like notes of that giftedamateur, WILKINS MICAWBER, ESQUIRE, JUNIOR), the usual loyal andpatriotic toasts were severally given and rapturously received. DoctorMell, in a speech replete with feeling, then proposed "Our distinguishedGuest, the ornament of our town. May he never leave us but to betterhimself, and may his success among us be such as to render his betteringhimself impossible!" The cheering with which the toast was receiveddefies description. Again and again it rose and fell, like the wavesof ocean. At length all was hushed, and WILKINS MICAWBER, ESQUIRE,presented himself to return thanks. Far be it from us, in the presentcomparatively imperfect state of the resources of our establishment,to endeavour to follow our distinguished townsman through thesmoothly-flowing periods of his polished and highly-ornate address!Suffice it to observe, that it was a masterpiece of eloquence; and thatthose passages in which he more particularly traced his own successfulcareer to its source, and warned the younger portion of his auditoryfrom the shoals of ever incurring pecuniary liabilities which they wereunable to liquidate, brought a tear into the manliest eye present. Theremaining toasts were DOCTOR MELL; Mrs. MICAWBER (who gracefully bowedher acknowledgements from the side-door, where a galaxy of beauty waselevated on chairs, at once to witness and adorn the gratifying scene),Mrs. RIDGER BEGS (late Miss Micawber); Mrs. MELL; WILKINS MICAWBER,ESQUIRE, JUNIOR (who convulsed the assembly by humorously remarking thathe found himself unable to return thanks in a speech, but would do so,with their permission, in a song); Mrs. MICAWBER'S FAMILY (well known,it is needless to remark, in the mother-country), &c. &c. &c. At theconclusion of the proceedings the tables were cleared as if by art-magicfor dancing. Among the votaries of TERPSICHORE, who disported themselvesuntil Sol gave warning for departure, Wilkins Micawber, Esquire, Junior,and the lovely and accomplished Miss Helena, fourth daughter of DoctorMell, were particularly remarkable.'

I was looking back to the name of Doctor Mell, pleased to havediscovered, in these happier circumstances, Mr. Mell, formerly poorpinched usher to my Middlesex magistrate, when Mr. Peggotty pointingto another part of the paper, my eyes rested on my own name, and I readthus:

'TO DAVID COPPERFIELD, ESQUIRE,

'THE EMINENT AUTHOR.

'My Dear Sir,

'Years have elapsed, since I had an opportunity of ocularly perusing thelineaments, now familiar to the imaginations of a considerable portionof the civilized world.

'But, my dear Sir, though estranged (by the force of circumstances overwhich I have had no control) from the personal society of the friend andcompanion of my youth, I have not been unmindful of his soaring flight.Nor have I been debarred,

Though seas between us braid ha' roared,

(BURNS) from participating in the intellectual feasts he has spreadbefore us.

'I cannot, therefore, allow of the departure from this place of anindividual whom we mutually respect and esteem, without, my dear Sir,taking this public opportunity of thanking you, on my own behalf, and,I may undertake to add, on that of the whole of the Inhabitants of PortMiddlebay, for the gratification of which you are the ministering agent.

'Go on, my dear Sir! You are not unknown here, you are notunappreciated. Though "remote", we are neither "unfriended","melancholy", nor (I may add) "slow". Go on, my dear Sir, in your Eaglecourse! The inhabitants of Port Middlebay may at least aspire to watchit, with delight, with entertainment, with instruction!

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

'The 'Eye 'Appertaining to

'WILKINS MICAWBER, 'Magistrate.'

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

We talked much of Mr. Micawber, on many other evenings while Mr.Peggotty remained with us. He lived with us during the whole term of hisstay,--which, I think, was something less than a month,--and his sisterand my aunt came to London to see him. Agnes and I parted from himaboard-ship, when he sailed; and we shall never part from him more, onearth.

But before he left, he went with me to Yarmouth, to see a little tabletI had put up in the churchyard to the memory of Ham. While I was copyingthe plain inscription for him at his request, I saw him stoop, andgather a tuft of grass from the grave and a little earth.

'For Em'ly,' he said, as he put it in his breast. 'I promised, Mas'rDavy.'