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renewing the acquaintance of Master Micawber, whom I found a promising

boy of about twelve or thirteen, very subject to that restlessness of

limb which is not an unfrequent phenomenon in youths of his age. I also

became once more known to his sister, Miss Micawber, in whom, as Mr.

Micawber told us, ‘her mother renewed her youth, like the Phoenix’.

‘My dear Copperfield,’ said Mr. Micawber, ‘yourself and Mr. Traddles

find us on the brink of migration, and will excuse any little

discomforts incidental to that position.’

Glancing round as I made a suitable reply, I observed that the family

effects were already packed, and that the amount of luggage was by no

means overwhelming. I congratulated Mrs. Micawber on the approaching

change.

‘My dear Mr. Copperfield,’ said Mrs. Micawber, ‘of your friendly

interest in all our affairs, I am well assured. My family may consider

it banishment, if they please; but I am a wife and mother, and I never

will desert Mr. Micawber.’

Traddles, appealed to by Mrs. Micawber’s eye, feelingly acquiesced.

‘That,’ said Mrs. Micawber, ‘that, at least, is my view, my dear Mr.

Copperfield and Mr. Traddles, of the obligation which I took upon myself

when I repeated the irrevocable words, “I, Emma, take thee, Wilkins.” I

read the service over with a flat-candle on the previous night, and

the conclusion I derived from it was, that I never could desert Mr.

Micawber. And,’ said Mrs. Micawber, ‘though it is possible I may be

mistaken in my view of the ceremony, I never will!’

‘My dear,’ said Mr. Micawber, a little impatiently, ‘I am not conscious

that you are expected to do anything of the sort.’

‘I am aware, my dear Mr. Copperfield,’ pursued Mrs. Micawber, ‘that I am

now about to cast my lot among strangers; and I am also aware that the

various members of my family, to whom Mr. Micawber has written in the

most gentlemanly terms, announcing that fact, have not taken the least

notice of Mr. Micawber’s communication. Indeed I may be superstitious,’

said Mrs. Micawber, ‘but it appears to me that Mr. Micawber is destined

never to receive any answers whatever to the great majority of the

communications he writes. I may augur, from the silence of my family,

that they object to the resolution I have taken; but I should not allow

myself to be swerved from the path of duty, Mr. Copperfield, even by my

papa and mama, were they still living.’

I expressed my opinion that this was going in the right direction. ‘It

may be a sacrifice,’ said Mrs. Micawber, ‘to immure one’s-self in a

Cathedral town; but surely, Mr. Copperfield, if it is a sacrifice in me,

it is much more a sacrifice in a man of Mr. Micawber’s abilities.’

‘Oh! You are going to a Cathedral town?’ said I.

Mr. Micawber, who had been helping us all, out of the wash-hand-stand

jug, replied:

‘To Canterbury. In fact, my dear Copperfield, I have entered into

arrangements, by virtue of which I stand pledged and contracted to our

friend Heep, to assist and serve him in the capacity of--and to be--his

confidential clerk.’

I stared at Mr. Micawber, who greatly enjoyed my surprise.

‘I am bound to state to you,’ he said, with an official air, ‘that the

business habits, and the prudent suggestions, of Mrs. Micawber, have

in a great measure conduced to this result. The gauntlet, to which Mrs.

Micawber referred upon a former occasion, being thrown down in the form

of an advertisement, was taken up by my friend Heep, and led to a mutual

recognition. Of my friend Heep,’ said Mr. Micawber, ‘who is a man of

remarkable shrewdness, I desire to speak with all possible respect.

My friend Heep has not fixed the positive remuneration at too high a

figure, but he has made a great deal, in the way of extrication from

the pressure of pecuniary difficulties, contingent on the value of

my services; and on the value of those services I pin my faith. Such

address and intelligence as I chance to possess,’ said Mr. Micawber,

boastfully disparaging himself, with the old genteel air, ‘will be

devoted to my friend Heep’s service. I have already some acquaintance

with the law--as a defendant on civil process--and I shall immediately

apply myself to the Commentaries of one of the most eminent and

remarkable of our English jurists. I believe it is unnecessary to add

that I allude to Mr. justice Blackstone.’

These observations, and indeed the greater part of the observations

made that evening, were interrupted by Mrs. Micawber’s discovering that

Master Micawber was sitting on his boots, or holding his head on with

both arms as if he felt it loose, or accidentally kicking Traddles under

the table, or shuffling his feet over one another, or producing them

at distances from himself apparently outrageous to nature, or lying

sideways with his hair among the wine-glasses, or developing his

restlessness of limb in some other form incompatible with the general

interests of society; and by Master Micawber’s receiving those

discoveries in a resentful spirit. I sat all the while, amazed by Mr.

Micawber’s disclosure, and wondering what it meant; until Mrs. Micawber

resumed the thread of the discourse, and claimed my attention.

‘What I particularly request Mr. Micawber to be careful of, is,’ said

Mrs. Micawber, ‘that he does not, my dear Mr. Copperfield, in applying

himself to this subordinate branch of the law, place it out of his power

to rise, ultimately, to the top of the tree. I am convinced that Mr.

Micawber, giving his mind to a profession so adapted to his fertile

resources, and his flow of language, must distinguish himself. Now, for

example, Mr. Traddles,’ said Mrs. Micawber, assuming a profound air, ‘a

judge, or even say a Chancellor. Does an individual place himself beyond

the pale of those preferments by entering on such an office as Mr.

Micawber has accepted?’

‘My dear,’ observed Mr. Micawber--but glancing inquisitively at

Traddles, too; ‘we have time enough before us, for the consideration of

those questions.’

‘Micawber,’ she returned, ‘no! Your mistake in life is, that you do not

look forward far enough. You are bound, in justice to your family, if

not to yourself, to take in at a comprehensive glance the extremest

point in the horizon to which your abilities may lead you.’

Mr. Micawber coughed, and drank his punch with an air of exceeding

satisfaction--still glancing at Traddles, as if he desired to have his

opinion.

‘Why, the plain state of the case, Mrs. Micawber,’ said Traddles, mildly

breaking the truth to her. ‘I mean the real prosaic fact, you know--’

‘Just so,’ said Mrs. Micawber, ‘my dear Mr. Traddles, I wish to be as

prosaic and literal as possible on a subject of so much importance.’

‘--Is,’ said Traddles, ‘that this branch of the law, even if Mr.

Micawber were a regular solicitor--’

‘Exactly so,’ returned Mrs. Micawber. [‘Wilkins, you are squinting, and

will not be able to get your eyes back.’)

‘--Has nothing,’ pursued Traddles, ‘to do with that. Only a barrister

is eligible for such preferments; and Mr. Micawber could not be a

barrister, without being entered at an inn of court as a student, for

five years.’

‘Do I follow you?’ said Mrs. Micawber, with her most affable air

of business. ‘Do I understand, my dear Mr. Traddles, that, at the

expiration of that period, Mr. Micawber would be eligible as a Judge or

Chancellor?’

‘He would be ELIGIBLE,’ returned Traddles, with a strong emphasis on

that word.

‘Thank you,’ said Mrs. Micawber. ‘That is quite sufficient. If such is

the case, and Mr. Micawber forfeits no privilege by entering on these

duties, my anxiety is set at rest. I speak,’ said Mrs. Micawber, ‘as a

female, necessarily; but I have always been of opinion that Mr. Micawber

possesses what I have heard my papa call, when I lived at home, the

judicial mind; and I hope Mr. Micawber is now entering on a field where

that mind will develop itself, and take a commanding station.’

I quite believe that Mr. Micawber saw himself, in his judicial mind’s

eye, on the woolsack. He passed his hand complacently over his bald

head, and said with ostentatious resignation:

‘My dear, we will not anticipate the decrees of fortune. If I am

reserved to wear a wig, I am at least prepared, externally,’ in allusion

to his baldness, ‘for that distinction. I do not,’ said Mr. Micawber,

‘regret my hair, and I may have been deprived of it for a specific

purpose. I cannot say. It is my intention, my dear Copperfield, to

educate my son for the Church; I will not deny that I should be happy,

on his account, to attain to eminence.’

‘For the Church?’ said I, still pondering, between whiles, on Uriah

Heep.

‘Yes,’ said Mr. Micawber. ‘He has a remarkable head-voice, and will

commence as a chorister. Our residence at Canterbury, and our local

connexion, will, no doubt, enable him to take advantage of any vacancy

that may arise in the Cathedral corps.’

On looking at Master Micawber again, I saw that he had a certain

expression of face, as if his voice were behind his eyebrows; where it

presently appeared to be, on his singing us (as an alternative between

that and bed) ‘The Wood-Pecker tapping’. After many compliments on this

performance, we fell into some general conversation; and as I was too

full of my desperate intentions to keep my altered circumstances to

myself, I made them known to Mr. and Mrs. Micawber. I cannot express how

extremely delighted they both were, by the idea of my aunt’s being in

difficulties; and how comfortable and friendly it made them.

When we were nearly come to the last round of the punch, I addressed

myself to Traddles, and reminded him that we must not separate, without

wishing our friends health, happiness, and success in their new career.

I begged Mr. Micawber to fill us bumpers, and proposed the toast in

due form: shaking hands with him across the table, and kissing Mrs.

Micawber, to commemorate that eventful occasion. Traddles imitated me

in the first particular, but did not consider himself a sufficiently old

friend to venture on the second.

‘My dear Copperfield,’ said Mr. Micawber, rising with one of his thumbs

in each of his waistcoat pockets, ‘the companion of my youth: if I may

be allowed the expression--and my esteemed friend Traddles: if I may be

permitted to call him so--will allow me, on the part of Mrs. Micawber,

myself, and our offspring, to thank them in the warmest and most

uncompromising terms for their good wishes. It may be expected that

on the eve of a migration which will consign us to a perfectly new

existence,’ Mr. Micawber spoke as if they were going five hundred

thousand miles, ‘I should offer a few valedictory remarks to two such

friends as I see before me. But all that I have to say in this way, I

have said. Whatever station in society I may attain, through the medium

of the learned profession of which I am about to become an unworthy

member, I shall endeavour not to disgrace, and Mrs. Micawber will be

safe to adorn. Under the temporary pressure of pecuniary liabilities,

contracted with a view to their immediate liquidation, but remaining

unliquidated through a combination of circumstances, I have been

under the necessity of assuming a garb from which my natural instincts

recoil--I allude to spectacles--and possessing myself of a cognomen, to

which I can establish no legitimate pretensions. All I have to say on

that score is, that the cloud has passed from the dreary scene, and the

God of Day is once more high upon the mountain tops. On Monday next, on

the arrival of the four o’clock afternoon coach at Canterbury, my foot

will be on my native heath--my name, Micawber!’

Mr. Micawber resumed his seat on the close of these remarks, and

drank two glasses of punch in grave succession. He then said with much

solemnity:

‘One thing more I have to do, before this separation is complete, and

that is to perform an act of justice. My friend Mr. Thomas Traddles

has, on two several occasions, “put his name”, if I may use a common

expression, to bills of exchange for my accommodation. On the first

occasion Mr. Thomas Traddles was left--let me say, in short, in the

lurch. The fulfilment of the second has not yet arrived. The amount of

the first obligation,’ here Mr. Micawber carefully referred to papers,

‘was, I believe, twenty-three, four, nine and a half, of the second,

according to my entry of that transaction, eighteen, six, two. These

sums, united, make a total, if my calculation is correct, amounting to

forty-one, ten, eleven and a half. My friend Copperfield will perhaps do

me the favour to check that total?’

I did so and found it correct.

‘To leave this metropolis,’ said Mr. Micawber, ‘and my friend Mr.

Thomas Traddles, without acquitting myself of the pecuniary part of this

obligation, would weigh upon my mind to an insupportable extent. I have,

therefore, prepared for my friend Mr. Thomas Traddles, and I now hold

in my hand, a document, which accomplishes the desired object. I beg

to hand to my friend Mr. Thomas Traddles my I.O.U. for forty-one, ten,

eleven and a half, and I am happy to recover my moral dignity, and to

know that I can once more walk erect before my fellow man!’

With this introduction (which greatly affected him), Mr. Micawber placed

his I.O.U. in the hands of Traddles, and said he wished him well in

every relation of life. I am persuaded, not only that this was quite

the same to Mr. Micawber as paying the money, but that Traddles himself

hardly knew the difference until he had had time to think about it. Mr.

Micawber walked so erect before his fellow man, on the strength of

this virtuous action, that his chest looked half as broad again when he

lighted us downstairs. We parted with great heartiness on both sides;

and when I had seen Traddles to his own door, and was going home alone,

I thought, among the other odd and contradictory things I mused upon,

that, slippery as Mr. Micawber was, I was probably indebted to some

compassionate recollection he retained of me as his boy-lodger, for

never having been asked by him for money. I certainly should not have

had the moral courage to refuse it; and I have no doubt he knew that (to