DICEIKENS'S DAVID COPTERFIELD. * 'THIS story has less af London life
and town-bred character than most of its predecessors ; but what.may thus he gained in variety is lost in raciness, breadth, and affect. The peculiar classes forced into •existence by the hotbed of a great eity, and owing part of their gusto to town usage, may be narrow enough if cam- pared with.eneral nature, but they are broader than the singu- larities whom Mr. Dickens-copies or invents as representatives of -genteel country. life, or human nature in general. In the mere style there is frequently an improvement—less effort and greater ease, with occasional touches of the felicity of Goldsmith ; but we should have thought the work was likely to be less popular than many of the previous tales of Mr. Dickens, as well as rather _more open to unfavourable criticism. 1,-Any prose fiction that is to take rank in the first class, must have 'what in epic poetry is called a fable,—some lesson of life embodied in a story that .combines the utile and the :duke. This fable should not only please the reader by its succession of coherent events, and by the variety-of its persons and fortunes, but should touch by .appeals to the :common kinship of humanity, and teach-worldly conduct or ethical -lessons by particular incidents, as well.as by the general .development. And when this -end is attained, whether by design or instinct, technical rules are readily forgotten ; even the great rule of unity of _action can be dispensed with. It does not appear that Mr. Dickens ILO the critical training necessary to feel the importance of this principle, or a knowledge (it'll& sufficiently deep and extensive to enable him to embody it unconsciously, as a. 'well-chosen story will always compel an author to do. So -far as David Copperfield appears designed with any •other object than as a vehicle for .writing a number of sketches, it would seem intended to trace the London -.career of an inexperienced young man, with infirmity of purpose, a dangerous friend, and no very experienced advisers. Any purpose of this kiadis only prosecuted by snatches; ".the theme " is constantly, deserted, and matters are introduced that have no connexion with the hero further than his being-pre- sent at them, or their occurring to his acquaintance. In fact, from the time that David Copperfield emerges from boyhood, the inte- rest in 7ei4 adventures ceases, beyond that sort of feeling which many read is entertain of wishing to know " how it ends." 3 The o e of the story is this. Mrs. Copperfield is left a young widow, am is foolish enough to marry again. Her stem _husband, and a stiff orose sister, soon worry her out of life _David, -who has been sr bbed and kept down while his mother lived, is first
neglected, then sent to London as a bottle-washer and drudge
• The Perna] History, Adventures, Experience,.-and aiservation of David Cop- eld the To oger, of Blunderstone Rookery ; which le_nover meant to,be,pub- hed on any aalcount. By CharlesHickens. With Illustratiaus, by H. K. BIIIMV.Ile. Published by B, bury and Bvans. -at his -stepfather's establishment. Getting tired of this life, ho runs away.; travels to Dover an tooth to an aunt whom he has heath of -hut never seen ; by her, :educated, and placed -out in life as a proctor's _articled ale*, and -gees through sonic fur- ther adventures, including a-marriage, -the loss of his wffe, and a second wedding ; the "finis." leaving.hini successful-as anauthor, and happy., This dor is extendedbyinoidentsr--as young .David's Furst school-daysat onse, The ekheath.; .anexaggerat[on
-self, and in its subject a 'repetition of Do-the-boys Hall. It is expanded by descriptions or reminiscences, feelings, persons, and things, in the usual style of Dickens.; which.seemafteullat, and emp-enough -when readnsportions of an entire novel, but may have n brisker taken • and _fresh in monthly parts. The
litereft.rosfy. Copperfield Ill owe. vorda is :ether; theitwatooffilrstathesinr: 1.1 1.1 , but the ,Whole three...anieled -w great-care. There is Mr. cawber, a .gooduatured, =fortunate, hopeful:man, with elevated ideas but very uneertain,means, living as he can, with -his wife and family ; not very new in the conception, and made rather too much but a truthful, and, what is more for the -reader, an amusing bit of London life. There are the Peggottys, one of them Cop- perfield% nurse, the other n Yarmouth boatman, the woman ap- parently designed to represent-the "Trizea fides," the old domestic fidelity ; the man, to embody Mr. Dickens's -idea of humble virtue : they are both very .elaborate paintings, but _Mr. Peggotty is the more successful. There are his household. or family,—Mrs. Gum- anidge, Ham, and his niece "; the last the victim of a -seduction. There -is also fiteerforth, the _seducer, Copperfield7s school-friend, the dashing -irresistible young .Oxonian and man of town; with a variety of otherpersons and their stories or scenes, which were long to tell, and perhaps hardly worth the telling.
14 Consistency in _fiction is of two kinds. One is a perfect co-
herenee..of incident,. action; and -discourse; hirtthis exact consistency is not often realized, andeannot -bilked-feria books that are pub- lished piecemeal. 'There 'is another consiedenay which arises from the, present cause -being adequate 'to the immediate effect ; and this is mostly wanting in.DavidCoppelfsekl. The incidents connected with Murdetone and his ,conduotare improbable and inconsistent, not onl • with one another-but iu themselves. The reader is ledby 'Mrs. :'s conduct to suppose 'that the suspicions against liar are w 'founded ; but when the eelairoissement takes place, the looker-an .has been -deceived as well as the players, and purposely for the objects of the author. The elements of the Yarmouth Seduction are as old as tale-writing. A humble lover abandoned for .a Don Juan from town—the manly fortitude of the betrayed and agonized rustic—the grief and affection of the parent or the "kw in parentis "—are now -too worn-out even for the stage. Mr. Dickens, by a knowledge of town life and society, as well as by his power of writing, imparts to the materials some apparent freshness .; but in his anxiety to load the poor with
i virtues, lie mars the -effect by making the ngistitude end treachery of Emily alike to Ham and :her uncle too great, -so -as to lessen the sympathy for her. It is, ihowever, the only episode in this book of episodes which has the interest of a story that one cares to follow • to the end.
Considered as a series of sketches, where each part is to be looked an as complete in itself, with little -or no regard to what precedes or follows it, we do not think that David .Copperfield is the happiest of the publications of Mr. Dickens. The first num- bers are slow, not to say prosy ; the same may be said of the last. Some defects of structure may possibly have arisen from a -change of purpose : we think we can see traces of an alteration of the plan, if any plan there was, When C cid is sent to town as drudge ; and after the elopement of Emily and its immediate consequences there seems to be another break. Good descriptions of life and re- marks on society frequently turn up ; there are sketches of man, things, and social institutions, sometimes cleverly expanded, some- times poweifully compressed; but the -most real pictures are those which relate to London life.
When Copperfield first came up to town as bottle-washer, Mr. Mica-wiser was a sort of traveller on commission to the rum; and .Copperfield was introduced to him by the manager arranging for David to lodge at Micawber'S.
"At the appointed time in the evening, Mr. Mleawber reappeared. I washed my hands and face, to do the greater honour to his gentility ; and we walked to our house, as I suppose I must now call it, together ; Mr. Mi- cawber impressing the names of streets and the shapes of corner houses upon me as we went along, that I might find my way back easily in the morning. "Arrived at his house in Windsor Terrace, (which I-noticed was shabby like -himself, but also, like himself, made all the show it could,) be presented me
to Mrs. Micawber; a thin and faded lady, not at all young, who was sittingin the 'parlour, (the first floor was altogether unfurnished, and the blinds were kept down to .delude the neighbours,) with a baby at her breast. This baby Was one of twins ; and I may remark here that I hardly ever, in all my ex- perience of the family, saw both the twins detached from Mrs. Micawber at the same time. One ofthem was always taking refreshment.
"There were two other children ; blaster ificawber, aged about four, and Miss Micawber, aged about three. These, -and a dark-complexioned yenug woman, with a habit of snorting, who -was servant to the family, and inform- ed me, before half an hour had expired, that she was ' a Orflmg, and came from St. Luke's Workhouse, in the neighbourhood, completed the establish- ment. My room was at the top of the house, at the back ; a close chamber, stencilled all over with an ornament which my young imagination represent- ed ass blue muffin-; and very scantily furnished.
4'4 I never thought,' said Mrs. Mioawber, when she came up, twin and all, to show ins the >apartment, and sat down to take breath, before I was mar- ried, when I lived with papa and mama, that I should ever fwd it necessary /to take a lodger. But Mr. Micawber being in difficulties, all ceneideratiens of private feeling must give way.'
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allythlbt'on iit1645 tdfi3httimed at prey enhaii law expenses),.•frOth Mz bifeaivt& , • ft note. . '''11:106V6r , ,understand Whether, my irecocious self-dependence
eronfd MrS.' *114 in, reference to my' age, or whether she was so full of the"Subject' that she would have talked about it to the very twins if there 'had been nobody else to communicate with, but this was the strain in which she began, and she went on accordingly all the time I knew her.
"Poor lira. Mica.wber! She said she bad tned to exert herself; and so, I haVe no doubt, SW had. The centre of the street-door was perfectly covered with a great brass-plate, on which was engraved 'Mrs. ltheawber's Boarding Establishment for Young Lathes' : but I never found that any young lady had ever been to school there ; or that any young lady ever came, or proposed to come ; or that the least preparation was ever made to receive any young lady. The only visiters I ever. saw or beard of, were cre- ditors. They used to come at all hours, and some.of them were quite fero- cious. One dirty-faced man—I think he was a bootmaker—used to edge himself into the passage as early as seven o'clock in the morning, and call up the stairs to Mr. Micawber---' Come ! You ain't out 'yet, yon know. Pay us, will you ? Don't bide you know ; that's mean. I wouldn't be mean if I was you. Pay us, -will you ? You just pay us, d'ye hear ? Come !' Re- ceiving no answer to these taunts, he would mount in his wrath to the words swindlers' and robbers' ;- and these being ineffectual too, would sometimes go to the extremity of crossing the street and rearing up at the windows of the second floor, where he knew Mr. Micawber was. At these times, Mr. Mieawber would be transported with grief and mortification, even to the length (as I was once made aware by a scream from his wife) of making mo- tions at himself with a razor; but-within half an hour afterwards, he would polish up his shoes with extraordinary pains, and go out, humming a tune with a greater air of gentility than ever. Mrs. Iffeawber was quite as elastic. I have known her to be thrown into fainting-fits by the king's taxes at three o'clock, and tO' eat lamb-chops, breaded, and drink warm ale (paid for with , two tea-spoons that had gone to the pawnbroker's) at four. On one occasion, when an execution !naiad been put in, coming home through some chance as early as six o'clock, I saw her lying (of course with a twin) under the grate in a swoon, with her hair all torn about her face ; but I never knew her more cheerful than she was that very same night over a veal-cutlet be- fore the kitchen-fire, telling me stories about her papa and mama, and the company they used to keep."
The climax of Mr. Micawber's first appearance is the King's Bench, where Copperfield dines with him on the Sunday after his incarceration.
"Mr. Mieawber was waiting for me within the gate, and we went up to his room, (top story but one,) .and cried very much. He solemnly conjured me, I remember, to take warning by his fate ; and to observe that if a man had twenty pounds a year for his income, and spent nineteen pounds nineteen shillings and sixpence, he would be happy, but that if he spent twenty pounds one he would be miserable. After which he borrowed a shilling of me for porter, gave me a written order on Mrs. Micawber for the amount, and put awaliis pocket-handkerchief, and cheered up. " We sat before a little fire, with two bricks put within the rusted grate, one on each side, to prevent its burning too many coals; until another debtor, who shared the room with Mr.. Micawber, came in from the bakehouse with the loin of mutton which was our joint-stock repast. Then I was sent up to Captain Hopkins ' in the room overhead, with Mr. Micawber's compliments,
and I was his young friend, and would:Captain Hopkins lend me a and fork.
"Captain Hopkins lent me the knife and fork, with his compliments to Mr. Micawber. There was a very dirty lady in his little room, and two wan girls, his daughters! with th shock heads of hair. I thought it was better to borrow Captain Illopkmas knife 'and foilt, than Captain llopkiiii'a comb. The Captain himself was in the last extremity of shabbiness, with large whiskers, and an old, old brown great-coat with no other coat below it. I saw his led rolled up in a corner ; and what plates and dishes and pots he had, on a shelf; and I divined (God knows how) that thofigh the two * la with the shock heads of hair were Captain Hopkins's children, the
lady was not married to Captain Hopkins. My timid station on his thresh.- old was not occupied more than a couple of minutes at most ; but I came down again with all this in my knowledge, as surely as the knife and fork were in my hand. "There was something gipsy-like and agreeable in the dinner, after all. I took back Captain Hopkins's knife and fork early in the afternoon, and went home to comfort Airs. Micawber with an account Of my visit. She fainted when she saw me return, and made a little jug of egg-hot afterwards to console us while we talked it over."
g The power of Dickens in natural pathos is occasionally ex- hibited. The following account of Mrs. Copperfield's death, as describedby the old nurse, displays real tenderness and feeling. We are not called upon here, as we so frequently are, to attend to the writing of Mr. Dickens. " She was never well,' said Peggotty, ' for a long time. She was uncer- tain in her mind, and not happy. When her baby was born, I thought at first she would get better ; but she was more delicate, and sunk a little every day. She used to like to sit alone before her babycame, and then she cried
but afterwards she used to sing to it—so soft, that I Ponce thought, when heard her, it was like a voice up in the air, that wasrising away. "'I think she got to be more timid, and more frightened-like, of late; and that a hard word was like a blow to her. But she was always the same to me. She never changed to her foolish Peggotty, didn't my sweet girl.' "Here Peggotty stopped, and softly beat upon ray hand a little while.
" The last time that I saw her like her own old self, was the night when you came home, my dear. The day you went away, she said to me, ' I never shall see my pretty darling again. Something tells me so, that tells the truth, I know.' "`She tried to hold up after that; and many a lime, when they told her she was thoughtless and light-hearted, made believe to be so • but it was all a bygone then. She never told her husband •what she had told me— she was afraid of saying it to anybody else—till one night, a little more than a week before it happened, when she said to him, ' My dear, I think I am dying.' 411911S. 9010,3 111 a idirifi ' I' '1' 1 at at preseg'11
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- '" It was pretty far in the iii,61:- saidpeggotty, ' when she asked:in. some drink ;-And when she had taken-it, gave me such a patient smite, dear !—so beautiful '..
" ' Daybreak had knee, and the sun waarising, when she said to me, how kind and considerate Mr. CopPerfield had always been to her, and how he had borne with her, and told her when she doubted herself, that a loving heart was better andstreinger than wisdom; and that he was a happy man in hers. ' Peggotty,, my dear,' she said then; `put me nearer to you,' for she was very weak. Lay-your good Min underneath my neck,'•she -smith,' and turn me to you, for your face is going far off, and I want it to bpi near.' I Put it as she aaked; and .oh, Davy ! the time had. come when my first parting words to you were true—when she was glad to lay her poor head on her stupid cross old Peggotty's arm—and she .died like -a child that had gone to sleep !' "