and his mother; which I accordingly did. As they abased themselves before him, Mr. Micawber took a seat, and waved his hand in his most courtly manner.
‘Any friend of my friend Copperfield’s,’ said Mr. Micawber, ‘has a personal claim upon myself.’
‘We are too umble, sir,’ said Mrs. Heep, ‘my son and me, to be the friends of Master Copperfield. He has been so good as take his tea with us, and we are thankful to him for his company, also to you, sir, for your notice.’
‘Ma’am,’ returned Mr. Micawber, with a bow, ‘you are very obliging: and what are you doing, Copperfield? Still in the wine trade?’
I was excessively anxious to get Mr. Micawber away; and replied, with my hat in my hand, and a very red face, I have no doubt, that I was a pupil at Doctor Strong’s.
‘A pupil?’ said Mr. Micawber, raising his eyebrows. ‘I am extremely happy to hear it. Although a mind like my friend Copperfield’s’—to Uriah and Mrs. Heep—‘does not require that cultivation which, without his knowledge of men and things, it would require, still it is a rich soil teeming with latent vegetation—in short,’ said Mr. Micawber, smiling, in another burst of confidence, ‘it is an intellect capable of getting up the classics to any extent.’
Uriah, with his long hands slowly twining over one another, made a ghastly writhe from the waist upwards, to express his concurrence in this estimation of me.
‘Shall we go and see Mrs. Micawber, sir?’ I said, to get Mr. Micawber away.
‘If you will do her that favour, Copperfield,’ replied Mr. Micawber, rising. ‘I have no scruple in saying, in the presence of our friends here, that I am a man who has, for some years, contended against the pressure of pecuniary difficulties.’ I knew he was certain to say something of this kind; he always would be so boastful about his difficulties. ‘Sometimes I have risen superior to my difficulties. Sometimes my difficulties have—in short, have floored me. There have been times when I have administered a succession of facers to them; there have been times when they have been too many for me, and I have given in, and said to Mrs. Micawber, in the words of Cato, “Plato, thou reasonest well. It’s all up now. I can show fight no more.” But at no time of my life,’ said Mr. Micawber, ‘have I enjoyed a higher degree of satisfaction than in pouring my griefs (if I may describe difficulties, chiefly arising out of warrants of attorney and promissory notes at two and four months, by that word) into the bosom of my friend Copperfield.’
Mr. Micawber closed this handsome tribute by saying, ‘Mr. Heep! Good evening. Mrs. Heep! Your servant,’ and then walking out with me in his most fashionable manner, making a good deal of noise on the pavement with his shoes, and humming a tune as we went.
It was a little inn where Mr. Micawber put up, and he occupied a little room in it, partitioned off from the commercial room, and strongly flavoured with tobacco-smoke. I think it was over the kitchen, because a warm greasy smell appeared to come up through the chinks in the floor, and there was a flabby perspiration on the walls. I know it was near the bar, on account of the smell of spirits and jingling of glasses. Here, recumbent on a small sofa, underneath a picture of a race-horse, with her head close to the fire, and her feet pushing the mustard off the dumb-waiter at the other end of the room, was Mrs. Micawber, to whom Mr. Micawber entered first, saying, ‘My dear, allow me to introduce to you a pupil of Doctor Strong’s.’
I noticed, by the by, that although Mr. Micawber was just as much confused as ever about my age and standing, he always remembered, as a genteel thing, that I was a pupil of Doctor Strong’s.
Mrs. Micawber was amazed, but very glad to see me. I was very glad to see her too, and, after an affectionate greeting on both sides, sat down on the small sofa near her.
‘My dear,’ said Mr. Micawber, ‘if you will mention to Copperfield what our present position is, which I have no doubt he will like to know, I will go and look at the paper the while, and see whether anything turns up among the advertisements.’
‘I thought you were at Plymouth, ma’am,’ I said to Mrs. Micawber, as he went out.
‘My dear Master Copperfield,’ she replied, ‘we went to Plymouth.’
‘To be on the spot,’ I hinted.
‘Just so,’ said Mrs. Micawber. ‘To be on the spot. But, the truth is, talent is not wanted in the Custom House. The local influence of my family was quite unavailing to obtain any employment in that department, for a man of Mr. Micawber’s abilities. They would rather NOT have a man of Mr. Micawber’s abilities. He would only show the deficiency of the others. Apart from which,’ said Mrs. Micawber, ‘I will not disguise from you, my dear Master Copperfield, that when that branch of my family which is settled in Plymouth, became aware that Mr. Micawber was accompanied by myself, and by little Wilkins and his sister, and by the twins, they did not receive him with that ardour which he might have expected, being so newly released from captivity. In fact,’ said Mrs. Micawber, lowering her voice,—‘this is between ourselves—our reception was cool.’
‘Dear me!’ I said.
‘Yes,’ said Mrs. Micawber. ‘It is truly painful to contemplate mankind in such an aspect, Master Copperfield, but our reception was, decidedly, cool. There is no doubt about it. In fact, that branch of my family which is settled in Plymouth became quite personal to Mr. Micawber, before we had been there a week.’
I said, and thought, that they ought to be ashamed of themselves.
‘Still, so it was,’ continued Mrs. Micawber. ‘Under such circumstances, what could a man of Mr. Micawber’s spirit do? But one obvious course was left. To borrow, of that branch of my family, the money to return to London, and to return at any sacrifice.’
‘Then you all came back again, ma’am?’ I said.
‘We all came back again,’ replied Mrs. Micawber. ‘Since then, I have consulted other branches of my family on the course which it is most expedient for Mr. Micawber to take—for I maintain that he must take some course, Master Copperfield,’ said Mrs. Micawber, argumentatively. ‘It is clear that a family of six, not including a domestic, cannot live upon air.’
‘Certainly, ma’am,’ said I.
‘The opinion of those other branches of my family,’ pursued Mrs. Micawber, ‘is, that Mr. Micawber should immediately turn his attention to coals.’
‘To what, ma’am?’
‘To coals,’ said Mrs. Micawber. ‘To the coal trade. Mr. Micawber was induced to think, on inquiry, that there might be an opening for a man of his talent in the Medway Coal Trade. Then, as Mr. Micawber very properly said, the first step to be taken clearly was, to come and see the Medway. Which we came and saw. I say “we”, Master Copperfield; for I never will,’ said Mrs. Micawber with emotion, ‘I never will desert Mr. Micawber.’
I murmured my admiration and approbation.
‘We came,’ repeated Mrs. Micawber, ‘and saw the Medway. My opinion of the coal trade on that river is, that it may require talent, but that it certainly requires capital. Talent, Mr. Micawber has; capital, Mr. Micawber has not. We saw, I think, the greater part of the Medway; and that is my individual conclusion. Being so near here, Mr. Micawber was of opinion that it would be rash not to come on, and see the Cathedral. Firstly, on account of its being so well worth seeing, and our never having seen it; and secondly, on account of the great probability of something turning up in a cathedral town. We have been here,’ said Mrs. Micawber, ‘three days. Nothing has, as yet, turned up; and it may not surprise you, my dear Master Copperfield, so much as it would a stranger, to know that we are at present waiting for a remittance from London, to discharge our pecuniary obligations at this hotel. Until the arrival of that remittance,’ said Mrs. Micawber with much feeling, ‘I am cut off from my home (I allude to lodgings in Pentonville), from my boy and girl, and from my twins.’
I felt the utmost sympathy for Mr. and Mrs. Micawber in this anxious extremity, and said as much to Mr. Micawber, who now returned: adding that I only wished I had