 JONATHAN SWIFT

Jonathan Swift (1667 – 1745) was an Anglo-Irish satirist, essayist, political

pamphleteer, poet and cleric who became Dean of St. Patrick's Cathedral in
Dublin. He is remembered for works such as Gulliver's Travels, A Modest
Proposal, The Battle of the Books, A Tale of a Tub etc. Swift originally
published all of his works under pseudonyms (Lemuel Gulliver, Isaac
Bickerstaff, M.B. Drapier) or anonymously.
Gulliver's Travels(1726) is both a satire on human nature and a parody of
the "travellers' tales", being Swift's best known work. The book (4 parts)
presents itself as a simple traveller's story with the title Travels into Several
Remote Nations of the World, its authorship assigned only to "Lemuel
Gulliver, first a surgeon, then a captain of several ships". The text is
presented as a first-person narrative by the supposed author, and the name
"Gulliver" appears nowhere in the book other than the title page. The text
publications begin with a fictional letter entitled "The Publisher to the
Reader" and "A letter from Captain Gulliver to his cousin Sympson" which
means that the original account has been edited and published without the
permission of Lemuel Gulliver.
Gulliver’s adventure in Lilliput begins when he wakes after his shipwreck to
find himself bound by innumerable tiny threads and addressed by tiny
captors who are in awe of him but fiercely protective of their
kingdom(but,after a while,they will become hospitable with our hero).
Gulliver is taken into the capital city-by a vast wagon the Lilliputians have
specially built- where he is presented to the emperor. Eventually Gulliver
becomes a weapon war against the people of Blefuscu, whom the
Lilliputians hate for doctrinal differences concerning the proper way to crack
eggs. But things change when Gulliver is convicted of treason for putting
out a fire in the royal palace with his urine and is condemned to be shot in
the eyes and starved to death. Gulliver escapes to Blefuscu, where he is able
to repair a boat he finds and set sail for England.
After staying in England with his wife and family for two months, Gulliver
undertakes his next sea voyage, which takes him to a land of giants called
Brobdingnag. Here, a farmer discovers him and initially treats Gulliver
outrageous (keeping him for amusement), but then he sells him to the
queen, who is entertained by his musical talents. Social life is easy for
Gulliver after his discovery by the court, but not really enjoyable. Gulliver is
often repulsed by the huge size of the Brobdingnagians. Thus, when a couple
of courtly ladies let him play on their naked bodies, he is not attracted to
them but rather disgusted by their enormous skin pores and the sound of
their torrential urination(the same sensations are presented when he meets
other creatures). He is generally startled by the ignorance of the people here
—even the king knows nothing about politics. On a trip to the frontier,
accompanying the royal couple, Gulliver leaves Brobdingnag when his cage
is plucked up by an eagle and dropped into the sea.
Next, Gulliver sets sail again and, after an attack by pirates, ends up in
Laputa, where a floating island inhabited by theoreticians and academics
oppresses the land below, called Balnibarbi. The scientific research
undertaken in Laputa and in Balnibarbi seems totally impractical, and its
residents too appear wholly out of touch with reality. Taking a short side trip
to Glubbdubdrib, Gulliver is able to witness the conjuring up of figures from
history, such as Julius Caesar and other military leaders, whom he finds
much less impressive than in writings (the most obvious restatement of the
"ancients versus moderns" theme in the book). After visiting the
Luggnaggians and the Struldbrugs, the latter of which are senile immortals
who prove that age does not bring wisdom, he is able to sail to Japan and
from there back to England.
Finally, on his fourth journey, Gulliver sets out as captain of a ship, but after
the mutiny of his crew and a long confinement in his cabin, he arrives in an
unknown land. This land is populated by Houyhnhnms, rational-thinking
horses who rule, and by Yahoos, brutish humanlike creatures who serve the
Houyhnhnms. Gulliver sets about learning their language, and when he can
speak he narrates his voyages to them and explains the constitution of
England. He is treated with great courtesy and kindness by the horses and is
enlightened by his many conversations with them and by his exposure to
their noble culture. He wants to stay with the Houyhnhnms, but his bared
body reveals to the horses that he is very much like a Yahoo, and he is
banished. Gulliver is grief-stricken but agrees to leave. He fashions a canoe
and makes his way to a nearby island, where he is picked up by a Portuguese
ship captain who treats him well (named Pedro de Mendez), though Gulliver
cannot help now seeing the captain—and all humans—as shamefully
Yahoolike. Gulliver then concludes his narrative with a claim that the lands
he has visited belong by rights to England, as her colonies, even though he
questions the whole idea of colonialism.
 2. DANIEL DEFOE
Daniel Defoe (1661 – 1731), born Daniel Foe, was an English writer,
journalist, and pamphleteer, who gained fame for his novels Robinson
Crusoe and Moll Flanders. He is notable for being one of the earliest
proponents of the novel, as he helped to popularise the form in Britain and is
among the founders of the English novel.

Robinson Crusoe (first published in 1719) is a fictional autobiography

(Defoe's initial inspiration for Crusoe is usually thought to be a Scottish
sailor named Alexander Selkirk) of the title character—a castaway who
spends 28 years on a remote tropical island near Venezuela. Novelist James
Joyce noted that the true symbol of the British conquest is Robinson Crusoe;
the friendship theme between Crusoe and Friday can also be seen in terms of
cultural imperialism. The book is also filled with religious aspects because
Defoe was a Puritan moralist, so a leitmotif of the novel is the Christian
notion of Providence.
Robinson Crusoe is an Englishman from the town of York in the 17 th
century, the youngest son of a merchant of German origin. Although his
father wants him to study law, Crusoe chooses the sea adventures, so he
embarks on a ship bound for London with a friend. When a storm causes the
near deaths of the two friends, Crusoe is abandoned but he still goes on to
set himself up as merchant on a ship leaving London. This trip is financially
successful and Crusoe starts another, but this one does not prove as
fortunate: the ship is seized by Moorish pirates, and Crusoe is enslaved to a
potentate in the North African town of Sallee. While on a fishing expedition,
he and a slave boy named Xury, break free and sail down the African coast.
A kindly Portuguese captain picks them up, buys Xury from Crusoe, and
takes Crusoe to Brazil. Here, Crusoe establishes himself as a plantation
owner and soon becomes successful, with the help of the captain.
Years later, he joins an expedition to bring slaves from Africa but he is
shipwrecked in a storm out to sea. His companions all die, save himself, and
three animals who survived the shipwreck, the captain's dog and two cats.
Having overcome his despair, Crusoe drags on the strange land wreck’s
remains like guns, powder, food, tools and builds himself a shelter. He
erects a cross that he inscribes with the date of his arrival (September 1,
1659) and makes a notch every day in order never to lose track of time, plus
that he keeps a journal of his household activities. In June next year, he falls
ill and hallucinates that an angel visits, warning him to repent. After
recovering, he realizes that God has delivered him from his earlier sins .
Crusoe makes a survey of the area and discovers he is on an island but
eventually he begins to feel more optimistic about being there, describing
himself as its “king.” He hunts, grows corn and rice, learns to make pottery
and raises goats and he even adopts a small parrot. He reads the Bible and
becomes religious, thanking God for his fate in which nothing is missing but
human society. Thinking of home, Crusoe builds a huge canoe from a cedar
tree trunk, but he discovers that he cannot move it to the sea. After building
a smaller boat, he rows around the island but nearly perishes when swept
away by a powerful current. Reaching shore, he hears his parrot calling his
name and is thankful for being saved once again.
After several years in peace, one day Crusoe is shocked to discover a man’s
footprint on the beach and decides it must belong to one of the cannibals
said to live in the region so, terrified, he arms himself and builds an
underground cellar. One evening he hears gunshots, and the next day he
sees a ship wrecked on his coast whom he investigates her to discover it was
empty. Later, Crusoe noticed few cannibals heading for shore with their
victims. One of the victims is killed, but the another one suddenly breaks
free and runs toward Crusoe’s dwelling. Crusoe protects him and defeats
most of the cannibals onshore. The victim vows total submission to Crusoe
in gratitude for his liberation. Crusoe names him Friday, to commemorate
the day on which his life was saved, and takes him as a companion, he
teaches him English and eventually converts him to Christianity.
Next, Friday informs Crusoe that the cannibals saved the men from the
shipwreck Crusoe witnessed earlier, and that those men, Spaniards, are
living nearby. Before they have a chance to leave and explore the
surroundings, they are surprised by the arrival of cannibals in canoes.
Friday and Crusoe kill most of them and release two of their prisoners.
Friday is overjoyed to discover that one of the prisoners is his father and the
other is a Spaniard, who informs Crusoe that there are other Spaniards
shipwrecked on the mainland . He sends Friday’s father and the Spaniard out
in a canoe to explore the nearby land, bring back the others, build a ship and
sail to a Spanish port.
Few days later, the sight of an approaching English ship- whom mutineers
have taken control- alarms Friday and Crusoe. They watch as eleven men
take three captives onshore in a boat. Nine of the men explore the land,
leaving two to guard the captives. Friday and Crusoe overpower these men
and release the captives, one of them being the English captain. Crusoe
strike a deal with him in which he helps the captain and the loyal sailors
retake the ship from the mutineers. Before they leave for England, Crusoe
shows the former mutineers how he lived on the island and states that there
will be more men coming.
On December 19, 1686, Crusoe leaves the Ireland and arrives in England on
June next year. Here, he finds his family is deceased except for two sisters
who believed him dead. As there was nothing in his father's will for him,
Crusoe departs for Lisbon to reclaim the profits of his estate in Brazil. He
marries but later his wife will die, so Crusoe finally departs for the East
Indies as a trader. He revisits his island, finding that the Spaniards are
governing it well and that it has become a prosperous colony.
3. SAMUEL RICHARDSON
Samuel Richardson (1689 – 1761) was an 18th-century English writer and
printer. He is best known for his three epistolary novels: Pamela: Or, Virtue
Rewarded, Clarissa: Or the History of a Young Lady and The History of Sir
Charles Grandison.
Clarissa, or, the History of a Young Lady is an epistolary novel by Samuel
Richardson, published in 1748. It tells the tragic story of a heroine whose
quest for virtue is continually thwarted by her family, and is one of the
longest novels in the English language.
Clarissa Harlowe is a virtuous, beautiful and young woman who is brought
to tragedy by the wickedness of her world. The Harlowes are an up-and-
coming family, possessing great wealth but little status. The other members
of the family are avaricious and Clarissa becomes the victim of their greed.
The original plan of her family was to concentrate the wealth and lands of
the Harlowes into the possession of Clarissa's brother James Harlowe,
whose wealth and political power will lead to his being granted a title.
The trouble starts when Richard Lovelace, a dashing libertine, comes to pay
court to Clarissa’s sister, Arabella, but is attracted by Clarissa instead.
Arabella’s jealousy combines with the resentment of their brother, James, set
the family against him. A duel between the two, in which Lovelace wounds
James but spares his life, crystallizes their hatred. The family forbids
Clarissa from corresponding with Lovelace, and commands her to marry a
horrible rich man named Roger Solmes, but she refuses and carries on a
secret correspondence with Lovelace. She also continues to secretly
correspond with her best friend, Anna Howe.
Finally, Lovelace takes advantage of Clarissa’s fear of a forced marriage by
tricking her into running away with him. Her reputation is ruined and her
family refuses to forgive her. Lovelace’s intention, however, is to force
Clarissa to compromise her strict morals, sully her reputation, and gain full
control over her. Without suspecting that she is playing into his hands, she
goes with him to London, where he secures lodgings at Mrs. Sinclair’s
house. Clarissa is unaware that this is a brothel and the women she meets
there are whores. Having been involved with (and ruined by) Lovelace in the
past, these women are jealous of Clarissa and encourage Lovelace to rape
her.
At the same time, Clarissa’s virtue has a powerful effect on Lovelace and
sometimes sways him away from his bad intentions. After several battles
between his wicked heart and his protesting conscience, Lovelace’s joy in
intrigue and the whores’ instigations seal Clarissa’s doom. Finally
suspecting Lovelace’s vileness, Clarissa escapes, but Lovelace finds her and
tricks her back to Mrs. Sinclair’s brothel. There, Mrs. Sinclair drugs Clarissa
and Lovelace rapes her while she is unconscious. Through this action,
Clarissa must marry Lovelace. It is suspected that Mrs. Sinclair (the brothel
manager) and the other prostitutes assist Lovelace during the rape. When she
awakes, Clarissa goes temporarily mad, and Lovelace regrets his action. He
begins to talk with more seriousness about marrying her, but also thinks he
will try to rape her again and see if he can get her consent, thus abandoning
her principles. Clarissa, sensing the danger, runs away, this time
successfully.
Once Clarissa has been raped, she stops eating and no longer worries about
worldly problems like reputation. She continues to seek reconciliation with
her family, but they remain adamant. One of Lovelace’s plots gone wrong
allows him to accidentally discover Clarissa’s location, but at the same time
it damages her health and cements her conviction of his wickedness.
Clarissa is sheltered by the kind but poor Smiths and during her sickness she
gains another worshipper - John Belford, a libertine who happens to be
Lovelace's best friend. Belford becomes Clarissa’s protector, keeping
Lovelace away but mediating between him and Clarissa. Lovelace is now
truly determined to marry Clarissa, but she prefers the idea of death to that
of marrying such a criminal. Her health steadily worsens, and she begins to
prepare for death.
With remarkable equanimity, Clarissa makes her will, appoints Belford her
executor, puts her affairs in order, and even orders a coffin. Belford is
amazed at the way Clarissa handles her approaching death and laments over
what Lovelace has done. In one of the many letters sent to Lovelace he
writes that "if the divine Clarissa asks me to slit thy throat, Lovelace, I shall
do it in an instance." Eventually, surrounded by strangers and her cousin
Col. Morden, Clarissa dies in the full consciousness of her virtue and
trusting in a better life after death.
The Harlowes finally see how wrong their treatment of Clarissa has been.
Mr. and Mrs. Harlowe die soon after, and James and Arabella marry badly
and are miserable for the rest of their lives. Anna, Hickman, Belford, and the
other good characters are rewarded with happy marriages. Belford takes on
the project of collecting the letters that tell Clarissa’s story so that it can be
an example to protect other women from similar fates.
Lovelace seems to have moved on but Belford sends him Clarissa's will. He
is shattered when he reads it and can live no longer. Col. Morden has gone
back to Italy and he knows that there is only one way to atone for his sins.
Lovelace asks Morden for a duel (although not directly) and they meet
somewhere in Italy. The duel ends, Morden leaves and Lovelace is taken to
his lodgings. The doctor is unable to do anything and Lovelace dies a day
afterwards. Before dying he says "LET THIS EXPIATE!" and the book
ends with an account of the fate of the other characters.
4. HENRY FIELDING
Henry Fielding (1707 – 1754) was an English novelist and dramatist known
for his rich earthy humour, satirical prowess, and as the author of the novels
Tom Jones and Joseph Andrews. The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling
is a comic novel first published in 1749 and divided in 18 smaller books.
The love between Tom Jones and Sophia Western reflects the romantic
comedy genre, popular in 18th-century Britain. The society theme reflects
the criticism of class friction acted as a biting social commentary and the
inclusion of prostitution in the plot was also original for its time.
The country gentleman Allworthy, who lives in Somersetshire with his
unmarried sister Bridget, arrives home from a trip to London to discover a
baby boy in is bed . He undertakes to uncover the parents of this foundling
and finds guilty a local woman named Jenny Jones. She admits being the
baby's mother but refuses to reveal the father's identity and Mr Allworthy
removes Jenny to a place where her reputation will be unknown.
Furthermore, he promises his sister to raise the boy, whom he names
Thomas, in his household. Soon after, Bridget marries Captain Blifil and
gives birth to a son of her own, named Blifil. The plot then turns to Mrs
Partridge, who has discovered that Jenny gave birth to a child and she
immediately suspects her husband; Captain Blifil informs Mr Allworthy, and
Partridge is found culpable.
The narrator skips forward twelve years wheren the young Blifil and Tom
Jones receive vastly different treatment from the other members of the
household. Allworthy is the only person who shows consistent affection for
Tom. The philosopher Square and the reverend Thwackum, the boys' tutors,
despise Tom and adore Blifil, since Tom is wild , unconscious in his acts
and Blifil is pious. Tom frequently steals apples and ducks to support the
family of Black George, one of Allworthy's servants. Tom tells all of his
secrets to Blifil, who then relates these to Thwackum or Allworthy, thereby
getting Tom into trouble. Tom spends much time with Squire Western since
his family is impressed by Tom's sportsmanship. Sophia, Squire's daughter,
falls deeply in love with Tom, but he has already bestowed his affection on
Molly Seagrim, the poor but feisty daughter of Black George, who will soon
born a child. Tom, at first oblivious to Sophia's charms and beauty, falls
deeply in love with her, but he remains with Molly out of honor. Tom's
commitment to Molly ends when he discovers that she has been having
affairs, which means Tom is not the father of her child and frees him to
confess his feelings to Sophia. Allworthy falls gravely ill and summons his
family to read out his will, which states that Blifil will inherit most of his
estate, although Tom is also provided for. A lawyer named Dowling arrives
and announces the sudden and unexpected death of Bridget Allworthy.
When the doctor announces that Allworthy will not die, Tom gets drunk on
both joy, Blifil calls Tom a "bastard" and Tom retaliates by hitting him.
After this fight, Tom, still drunk, is wandering the gardens thinking about
Sophia when Molly makes an appearance. After a quarter of an hour's
conversation, the two disappear into the bushes.
Mrs. Western, the aunt with whom Sophia spent much of her youth, comes
to stay at her brother's house. She and the Squire fight constantly, but they
unite over Mrs. Western's plan to marry Sophia to Blifil. Mrs. Western
promises not to reveal Sophia's love for Tom as long as Sophia submits to
receiving Blifil as a suitor. Blifil thus begins his courtship of Sophia, and
brags so much about his progress that Allworthy believes that Sophia must
love Blifil. Sophia, however, strongly opposes the proposal, and Squire
grows violent with her. Blifil tells Allworthy that Tom is a rascal who
cavorted drunkenly about the house, and Allworthy banishes Tom from the
county. Tom does not want to leave Sophia, but decides that he must follow
the honorable path. In Bristol, Tom happens to meet up with Partridge, who
becomes his loyal servant. Tom also rescues a Mrs. Waters from being
robbed, and they begin an affair at a local inn. Sophia, who has run away
from Squire Western's estate to avoid marrying Blifil, stops at this inn and
discovers that Tom is having an affair with Mrs. Waters. The Irishman
Fitzpatrick arrives at the inn searching for his wife, and Western arrives
searching for Sophia. On the way to London, Sophia rides with her cousin
Harriet, who is also Fitzpatrick's wife. In London, Sophia stays with her lady
relative Lady Bellaston. Tom and Partridge arrive in London soon after, and
they stay in the house of Mrs. Miller and her daughters, one of whom is
named Nancy. A young gentleman called Nightingale also inhabits the
house, and Tom soon realizes that he and Nancy are in love. Nancy falls
pregnant and Tom convinces Nightingale to marry her. Lady Bellaston and
Tom begin an affair, although Tom privately, continues to pursue Sophia.
When he and Sophia are reconciled, Tom breaks off the relationship with
Lady Bellaston by sending her a marriage proposal that scares her away.
Soon after, Mr. and Mrs. Western, Blifil, and Allworthy arrive in London,
and Squire Western locks Sophia in her bedroom. Mr. Fitzpatrick thinks
Tom is his wife's lover and begins a duel with Tom. In defending himself,
Tom stabs Fitzpatrick with the sword and is thrown into jail. Partridge visits
Tom in jail with the ghastly news that Mrs. Waters is Jenny Jones, Tom's
mother. Mrs. Waters meets with Allworthy and explains that Fitzpatrick is
still alive, and has admitted to initiating the duel. She also tells Allworthy
that a lawyer acting on behalf of an unnamed gentleman tried to persuade
her to conspire against Tom. Allworthy realizes that Blifil is this very
gentleman, and he decides never to speak to him again. Tom, however, takes
pity on Blifil and provides him with an annuity. Mrs.Waters also reveals that
Tom's mother was Bridget Allworthy. Tom is released from jail and he and
Allworthy are reunited as nephew and uncle. Mrs. Miller explains to Sophia
the reasons for Tom's marriage proposal to Lady Bellaston, and Sophia is
satisfied. Now that Tom is Allworthy's heir, Squire eagerly encourages the
marriage between Tom and Sophia. Finally, Sophia agrees to marry him and
they live happily on Western's estate with two children.
5. JANE AUSTEN
Jane Austen (1775 – 1817) was an English novelist whose works of
romantic fiction, realism and biting social commentary cementing her
historical importance among scholars and critics. With the release of Sense
and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park and Emma, she
achieved success as a published writer.
Pride and Prejudice is a novel by Jane Austen, first published in 1813. The
story follows the main character Elizabeth Bennet as she deals with issues of
manners, upbringing, morality, education and marriage in the society of the
landed gentry of early 19th-century England. Pride and Prejudice, like most
of Jane Austen's works, employs the narrative technique of free indirect
speech.
The news that a wealthy young gentleman and a very eligible bachelor
named Charles Bingley- accompanied by his fashionable sisters and his
good friend, Mr Darcy- has rented the manor of Netherfield Park causes a
great stir in the nearby village of Longbourn, especially in the Bennet
household. The Bennets have five unmarried daughters—from oldest to
youngest, Jane, Elizabeth, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia—and Mrs. Bennet is
desperate to see them all married. After Mr. Bennet pays a social visit to Mr.
Bingley, the Bennets attend a ball at which Mr. Bingley is present. He is
taken with Jane and spends much of the evening dancing with her. His close
friend, Mr. Darcy, is less pleased with the evening and haughtily refuses to
dance with Elizabeth. After the incident, Elizabeth resolves to match his
coldness and pride, his prejudice against country people, with her own
prideful anger—in biting wit and sometimes sarcastic remarks - directed
towards him. Elizabeth begins a friendship with Mr Wickham, a militia
officer who is of long personal acquaintance with Darcy—they grew up
together. At social functions over subsequent weeks, ironically however, Mr.
Darcy finds himself increasingly attracted to Elizabeth’s charm and
intelligence.
Mr Collins, the male relative who is to inherit Longbourn, makes an
appearance and stays with the Bennets. Recently ordained a clergyman, he is
employed as parish rector by the wealthy and patronising Lady Catherine de
Bourgh of Kent, so he takes courage and confides to Mrs Bennet that he
wishes to find a wife from among the Bennet sisters. He first offers to pursue
Jane; however, Mrs Bennet mentions that her eldest daughter is soon likely
to be engaged, and redirects his attentions to Elizabeth.
At the beginning of winter, the Bingleys and Darcy leave Netherfield and
return to London. Though appearing at the point of proposing marriage to
Jane, Mr Bingley abruptly quits Netherfield and returns to London, leaving
the lady confused and upset. Elizabeth is convinced that Darcy and Bingley's
sister have conspired to separate Jane and Bingley. A further shock arrives
with the news that Mr. Collins has become engaged to Charlotte Lucas,
Elizabeth’s best friend and the poor daughter of a local knight.
That spring, Elizabeth visits Charlotte, who now lives near the home of Mr.
Collins’s patron, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who is also Darcy’s aunt.
Darcy calls on Lady Catherine and encounters Elizabeth, whose presence
leads him to make a number of visits to the Collins’s home, where she is
staying. One day, he makes a shocking proposal of marriage, which
Elizabeth quickly refuses. Darcy leaves her but shortly thereafter delivers a
letter to her. In this letter, he admits that he urged Bingley to distance
himself from Jane, but claims he did so only because he thought their
romance was not serious. As for Wickham, he informs Elizabeth that the
young officer is a liar and that the real cause of their disagreement was
Wickham’s attempt to elope with his young sister, Georgiana Darcy.
This letter causes Elizabeth to reevaluate her feelings about Darcy. She
returns home and acts coldly toward Wickham. The militia is leaving town,
which makes the younger, rather man-crazy Bennet girls distraught. With
the arrival of June, Elizabeth goes on another journey, this time with the
Gardiners, who are relatives of the Bennets. The trip takes her to the North
and eventually to the neighborhood of Pemberley, Darcy’s estate. She visits
Pemberley and, after making sure that Darcy is away, she gets informations
from Darcy’s servants that he is a wonderful, generous master. Suddenly,
Darcy arrives and behaves cordially toward her. Making no mention of his
proposal, he entertains the Gardiners and invites Elizabeth to meet his sister.
Shortly thereafter, a letter arrives from home, telling Elizabeth that Lydia
has eloped with Wickham and that the couple is nowhere to be found.
Fearful of the disgrace such a situation would bring on her entire family,
Elizabeth hastens home. Just when all hope seems lost, a letter comes from
Mr. Gardiner saying that the couple has been found and that Wickham has
agreed to marry Lydia in exchange for an annual income. The Bennets are
convinced that Mr. Gardiner has paid off Wickham, but Elizabeth learns that
the source of the money, and of her family’s salvation, was none other than
Darcy. Now married, Wickham and Lydia return to Longbourn briefly, but
then they depart for Wickham’s new assignment in the North of England.

Soon, Bingley returns to Netherfield and resumes his courtship of Jane.

Darcy goes to stay with him and pays visits to the Bennets but makes no
mention of his desire to marry Elizabeth. Bingley, on the other hand, presses
his suit and proposes to Jane, to the delight of everyone but Bingley’s
haughty sister. While the family celebrates, Lady Catherine de Bourgh pays
a visit to Longbourn. She corners Elizabeth and says that she has heard that
Darcy, her nephew, is planning to marry her, so she demands that Elizabeth
promise to refuse him. Elizabeth spiritedly refuses, saying she is not
engaged to Darcy, but a little later Elizabeth and Darcy go out walking
together and he tells her that his feelings have not altered since the spring.
She tenderly accepts his proposal, and both Jane and Elizabeth are married.

6. CHARLES DICKENS
Charles Dickens (1812 – 1870) is one of the most popular English novelist
of the Victorian era. He wrote novels like David Copperfield, Oliver Twist,
Great Expectations or Hard Times. Unlike other authors who completed
entire novels before serialisation, Dickens often created the episodes as they
were being serialized .
David Copperfield is a novel by Charles Dickens, first published in 1850.
Like most of his works, it originally appeared in serial form a year earlier.
The story is told almost entirely from the point of view of the first person
narrator, David Copperfield himself, and was the first Dickens novel to be
written as such a narration. Critically, it is considered a Bildungsroman, a
novel of self-cultivation.
Now a grown man, David Copperfield tells the story of his youth. As a
young boy, he lives happily with his mother Clara and his nurse Peggotty,
because his father died before he was born. During David’s early childhood,
his mother marries the violent Mr. Murdstone, who brings his strict sister,
Miss Murdstone, into the house. The Murdstones treat David cruelly, and
David bites Mr. Murdstone’s hand during one beating, so The Murdstones
send David away to school.
Peggotty takes David to visit her family in Yarmouth, where David meets
Peggotty’s brother, Mr. Peggotty, and his two adopted children, Ham and
little Em’ly. Mr. Peggotty’s family lives in a boat turned upside down—a
space they share with Mrs. Gummidge, the widowed wife of Mr. Peggotty’s
brother. After this visit, David attends school at Salem House, which is run
by a man named Mr. Creakle. David befriends and idolizes an egotistical
young man named James Steerforth. David also befriends Tommy Traddles,
an unfortunate, fat young boy who is beaten more than the others.
David returns home for the holidays to find out that his mother has had a
baby boy. Soon after David goes back to Salem House, his mother and her
baby die and David has to return home immediately. Mr Murdstone sends
him to work in a factory in London, of which Murdstone is a joint owner.
His landlord, Mr Wilkins Micawber, is sent to a debtor's prison (the King's
Bench Prison) after going bankrupt, and is there for several months before
being released and moving to Plymouth. When Micawber leaves London to
escape his creditors, David decides to search for his father’s sister, Miss
Betsey Trotwood—his only living relative. He walks a long distance to Miss
Betsey’s home in Dover, and she takes him in on the advice of her mentally
unstable friend Mr. Dick, despite of Mr Murdstone who visits her to regain
custody of David. David's aunt renames him 'Trotwood Copperfield', soon
shortened to "Trot". Miss Betsey sends David to a school run by a man
named Doctor Strong and he moves in with Mr. Wickfield and his daughter,
Agnes, while he attends school. Agnes and David become best friends.
Among Wickfield’s boarders is Uriah Heep, a snakelike young man who
often involves himself in matters that are none of his business. David
graduates and goes to Yarmouth to visit Peggotty, who is now married to
Mr. Barkis, the carrier.
On his way to Yarmouth, David encounters James Steerforth, and they take
a detour to visit Steerforth’s mother. They arrive in Yarmouth, where
Steerforth and the Peggottys become fond of one another. When they return
from Yarmouth, Miss Betsey persuades David to pursue a career as a
proctor. David apprentices himself at the London firm of Spenlow and
Jorkins and takes up lodgings with a woman named Mrs. Crupp. Mr.
Spenlow invites David to his house for a weekend and here he meets
Spenlow’s daughter, Dora, and quickly falls in love with her.
In London, David is reunited with Tommy Traddles and Mr. Micawber.
Word reaches David, through Steerforth, that Mr. Barkis is terminally ill.
David journeys to Yarmouth to visit Peggotty in her hour of need. Little
Em’ly and Ham, now engaged, are to be married upon Mr. Barkis’s death.
David, however, finds Little Em’ly upset over her impending marriage.
When Mr. Barkis dies, Little Em’ly runs off with Steerforth, who she
believes will make her a lady. Mr. Peggotty is devastated but vows to find
Little Em’ly and bring her home. Miss Betsey visits London to inform David
that her financial security has been ruined because Mr. Wickfield has joined
into a partnership with Uriah Heep. Although David work as hard as he can
to make the life with Dora possible, Mr. Spenlow forbids Dora from
marrying David. Mr. Spenlow dies in a carriage accident that night, and
Dora goes to live with her two aunts. Meanwhile, Uriah Heep informs
Doctor Strong that he suspects Doctor Strong’s wife, Annie, of having an
affair with her young cousin, Jack Maldon. Dora and David marry, and Dora
proves a terrible housewife, but he loves her anyway and is generally happy.
Mr. Dick facilitates a reconciliation between Doctor Strong and Annie, who
was not, in fact, cheating on her husband. Miss Dartle, Mrs. Steerforth’s
ward, summons David and informs him that Steerforth has left Little Em’ly.
Miss Dartle adds that Steerforth’s servant, Littimer, has proposed to her and
that Little Em’ly has run away. David and Mr. Peggotty enlist the help of
Little Em’ly’s childhood friend Martha, who locates Little Em’ly and brings
Mr. Peggotty to her. Little Em’ly and Mr. Peggotty decide to move to
Australia, as do the Micawbers, who first save the day for Agnes and Miss
Betsey by exposing Uriah Heep’s fraud against Mr. Wickfield.
A powerful storm hits Yarmouth and kills Ham while he attempts to rescue a
shipwrecked sailor who turns out to be Steerforth. Meanwhile, Dora falls ill,
then dies and David leaves the country to travel abroad. His love for Agnes
grows. When David returns, he and Agnes, who has long harbored a secret
love for him, get married and have several children, including a daughter
named in honor of Betsey Trotwood. David pursues his writing career with
increasing commercial success. Everybody involved finally finds security
and happiness in their new lives in Australia.

7. W. M. THACKERAY
William Makepeace Thackeray (1811 – 1863) was an English novelist of
the 19th century. He was famous for his satirical works, particularly Vanity
Fair, a panoramic portrait of English society.
Vanity Fair: A Novel without a Hero is a novel by William Makepeace
Thackeray, first published in 1848, satirizing society in early 19th-century
Britain. The book's title comes from John Bunyan's allegorical story The
Pilgrim's Progress, widely read at the time of Thackeray's novel. Vanity fair
refers to a stop along the pilgrim's progress: a never-ending fair held in a
town called Vanity, which is meant to represent man's sinful attachment to
worldly things.
The novel is a satire of society as a whole, characterised by hypocrisy and
opportunism, but it is not a reforming novel; there is no suggestion that
social or political changes, or greater piety and moral reformism could
improve the nature of society. It thus paints a fairly bleak view of the human
condition. This bleak portrait is continued with Thackeray's own role as an
omniscient narrator, one of the writers best known for using the technique.
He continually offers asides about his characters and compares them to
actors and puppets, but his scorn goes even as far as his readers; accusing all
who may be interested in such "Vanity Fairs" as being either "of a lazy, or a
benevolent, or a sarcastic mood".
The story opens at Miss Pinkerton's Academy for Young Ladies, where the
principal protagonists Becky Sharp and Amelia Sedley have just completed
their studies and are preparing to depart for Amelia's house in Russell
Square. Becky is portrayed as a strong-willed and cunning young woman
determined to make her way in society, and Amelia Sedley as a good-
natured, loveable, though simple-minded young girl.
Rebecca first attempts to enter the sacred domain of Vanity Fair by inducing
Joseph Sedley, Amelia's brother (a stout, putty man and a hard drinker) to
marry her. George Osborne foils this plan because he intends to marry
Amelia and does not want a governess for a sister-in-law. Rebecca takes a
position as governess at Queen's Crawley, and marries Rawdon Crawley,
second son of Sir Pitt Crawley.
Because of his marriage, Rawdon's rich aunt disinherits him.
Now we must flit back to London to see what has become of Miss Amelia.
Far less interesting than Becky, and with nothing but her wax-doll face to
recommend her, yet all the young men clustered round her chair and battled
for a dance with her. She was now engaged to George Osborne, albeit his
sisters wondered, "What could George find in that creature?" So much did
they wonder this, that it affected George, and he concluded he was throwing
himself away on the chit. But poor Amelia adored him, and Captain
Dobbin, who favored Amelia himself, kept Osborne up to the mark in his
attentions. The infatuated girl cared nothing about the Napoleonic war that
was raging, the fate of Europe was to her only Lieutenant George Osborne;
while he, often away with his regiment, the Horse Guards, read her letters
hastily, murmuring, "Poor little Emmy-how fond she is of me! and gad!
what a headache that mixed punch has given me!"

George dies at Waterloo. Amelia would have starved but for William
Dobbin's anonymous contribution to her welfare. Joseph goes back to his
post in India, claiming such valor at Waterloo that he earns the nickname
"Waterloo Sedley." Actually he fled at the sound of the cannon. Both
Rebecca and Amelia give birth to sons.
Rebecca claims she will make Rawdon's fortune, but actually she hides
much of her loot, obtained from admiring gentlemen. When she becomes the
favorite of the great Lord Steyne, she accumulates both money and
diamonds. In the meantime innocent Rawdon draws closer to Lady Jane,
wife of Rawdon's older brother, Pitt, who has inherited from the rich aunt.
When Rawdon discovers Rebecca in her treachery, he is convinced that
money means more to her than he or the son whom she has always hated. He
refuses to see her again and takes a post in Coventry Island, where he dies of
yellow fever.
Because her parents are starving and she can neither provide for them nor
give little Georgy what she thinks he needs, Amelia gives up her son to his
grandfather Osborne. William Dobbin comes back from the service,
reconciles old Osborne to Amelia, whereat Osborne makes a will leaving
Georgy half of his fortune and providing for Amelia.
Rebecca, having lost the respectability of a husband, wanders in Europe for
a couple of years and finally meets Joseph, Georgy, Amelia, and William on
the Continent. Rebecca sets about to finish what she started to do at the first
of the book — that is, to ensnare Joseph. She does not marry him, but she
takes all his money and he dies in terror of her, the implication being that
she has, at least, hastened his death. At the end of the book Rebecca has the
money necessary to live in Vanity Fair; she appears to be respectable.
William has won Amelia. Rebecca has been the one who jolted Amelia into
recognition that George, her first love, wasn't worthy.
Little Rawdon, upon the death of his uncle Pitt and his cousin Pitt, becomes
the heir of Queen's Crawley. Little George, through the kindness of Dobbin,
has lost his distorted values obtained in Vanity Fair. The reader feels that
these young persons of the third generation will be better people than their
predecessors in Vanity Fair.
Vanitas vanitatum! Which of us is happy in this world? Let us shut up the
box and the puppets-our play is played out.
8. CHARLOTTE BRONTE
Charlotte Brontë (1816 – 1855) was an English novelist and poet, the
eldest of the three Brontë sisters whose novels are English literature
standards. She wrote the famous novel Jane Eyre in three volumes, divided
into 38 chapters.
Jane Eyre is a famous and influential novel published in London, England
in 1847 with the title Jane Eyre. An Autobiography under the pen name
"Currer Bell". The first American edition came out the following year.
Brontë dedicated the novel's second edition to William Makepeace
Thackeray; Brontë made clear her belief that "conventionality is not
morality" and "self-righteousness is not religion." Throughout the novel,
Brontë presents contrasts between characters who believe in and practice
what she considers a true Christianity, and those who pervert religion to
further their own ends.
J ane Eyre is a young orphan (her parents died of typhus) being raised by
Mrs. Reed, her cruel, wealthy aunt. A servant named Bessie provides Jane
with some of the few kindnesses she receives, telling her stories and singing
songs to her. One day, as punishment for fighting with her bullying cousin
John Reed, Jane’s aunt imprisons Jane in the red-room, the room in which
Jane’s Uncle Reed died. While locked in, Jane, believing that she sees her
uncle’s ghost, screams and faints. She wakes to find herself in the care of
Bessie and the kindly apothecary Mr. Lloyd, who suggests to Mrs. Reed that
Jane be sent away to school. To Jane’s delight, Mrs. Reed concurs.
Once at the Lowood School, Jane finds that her life is far from idyllic. The
school’s headmaster is Mr. Brocklehurst, a cruel, hypocritical, and abusive
man. Brocklehurst preaches a doctrine of poverty and privation to his
students while using the school’s funds to provide a wealthy and opulent
lifestyle for his own family. At Lowood, Jane befriends a young girl named
Helen Burns, whose strong, martyrlike attitude toward the school’s miseries
is both helpful and displeasing to Jane. A massive typhus epidemic sweeps
Lowood, and Helen dies of consumption. The epidemic also results in the
departure of Mr. Brocklehurst by attracting attention to the insalubrious
conditions at Lowood. After a group of more sympathetic gentlemen takes
Brocklehurst’s place, Jane’s life improves dramatically. She spends eight
more years at Lowood, six as a student and two as a teacher.
After teaching for two years, Jane yearns for new experiences. She accepts a
governess position at a manor called Thornfield, where she teaches a lively
French girl named Adèle. The distinguished housekeeper Mrs. Fairfax
presides over the estate. Jane’s employer at Thornfield is a dark,
impassioned man named Rochester, with whom Jane finds herself falling
secretly in love. She saves Rochester from a fire one night, which he claims
was started by a drunken servant named Grace Poole. But because Grace
Poole continues to work at Thornfield, Jane concludes that she has not been
told the entire story. Jane sinks into despondency when Rochester brings
home a beautiful but vicious woman named Blanche Ingram. Jane expects
Rochester to propose to Blanche. But Rochester instead proposes to Jane,
who accepts almost disbelievingly.
The wedding day arrives, and as Jane and Mr. Rochester prepare to
exchange their vows, the voice of Mr. Mason cries out that Rochester
already has a wife. Mason introduces himself as the brother of that wife—a
woman named Bertha. Mr. Mason testifies that Bertha, whom Rochester
married when he was a young man in Jamaica, is still alive. Rochester does
not deny Mason’s claims, but he explains that Bertha has gone mad. He
takes the wedding party back to Thornfield, where they witness the insane
Bertha Mason scurrying around on all fours and growling like an animal.
Rochester keeps Bertha hidden on the third story of Thornfield and pays
Grace Poole to keep his wife under control. Bertha was the real cause of the
mysterious fire earlier in the story. Knowing that it is impossible for her to
be with Rochester, Jane flees Thornfield.
Penniless and hungry, Jane is forced to sleep outdoors and beg for food. At
last, three siblings who live in a manor alternatively called Marsh End and
Moor House take her in. Their names are Mary, Diana, and St. John
(pronounced “Sinjin”) Rivers, and Jane quickly becomes friends with them.
St. John is a clergyman, and he finds Jane a job teaching at a charity school
in Morton. He surprises her one day by declaring that her uncle, John Eyre,
has died and left her a large fortune: 20,000 pounds. When Jane asks how he
received this news, he shocks her further by declaring that her uncle was
also his uncle: Jane and the Riverses are cousins. Jane immediately decides
to share her inheritance equally with her three newfound relatives.
St. John decides to travel to India as a missionary, and he urges Jane to
accompany him—as his wife. Jane agrees to go to India but refuses to marry
her cousin because she does not love him. St. John pressures her to
reconsider, and she nearly gives in. However, she realizes that she cannot
abandon forever the man she truly loves when one night she hears
Rochester’s voice calling her name over the moors. Jane immediately hurries
back to Thornfield and finds that it has been burned to the ground by Bertha
Mason, who lost her life in the fire. Rochester saved the servants but lost his
eyesight and one of his hands. Jane travels on to Rochester’s new residence,
Ferndean, where he lives with two servants named John and Mary.
At Ferndean, Rochester and Jane rebuild their relationship and soon marry.
At the end of her story, Jane writes that she has been married for ten blissful
years and that she and Rochester enjoy perfect equality in their life together.
She says that after two years of blindness, Rochester regained sight in one
eye and was able to behold their first son at his birth.

9. EMILY BRONTE
Emily Jane Brontë (1818 — 1848) was an English novelist and poet, now
best remembered for her only novel, Wuthering Heights, a classic of English
literature. Emily was the second eldest of the three surviving Brontë sisters,
between Charlotte and Anne. She published under the androgynous pen
name Ellis Bell.
Wuthering Heights was first published in 1847 under the pseudonym Ellis
Bell, and a posthumous second edition was edited by her sister Charlotte.
The name of the novel comes from the Yorkshire manor on the moors on
which the story centres. The narrative tells the tale of the all-encompassing
and passionate, yet thwarted, love between Heathcliff and Catherine
Earnshaw, and how this unresolved passion eventually destroys them and
many around them, revealing a depiction of mental and physical cruelty.
In the late winter months of 1801, a man named Lockwood rents a manor
house called Thrushcross Grange in the isolated moor country of England.
Here, he meets his dour landlord, Heathcliff, a wealthy man who lives in the
ancient manor of Wuthering Heights, four miles away from the Grange. In
this wild countryside, Lockwood asks his housekeeper, Nelly Dean, to tell
him the strange story of Wuthering Heights. Nelly consents, and Lockwood
writes down his recollections of her tale in his diary; these written
recollections form the main part of Wuthering Heights. Nelly remembers her
childhood. As a young girl, she works as a servant at Wuthering Heights for
the owner of the manor, Mr. Earnshaw, and his family. One day, Mr.
Earnshaw goes to Liverpool and returns home with an orphan boy whom he
will raise with his own children. At first, the Earnshaw children—a boy
named Hindley and his younger sister Catherine—detest the dark-skinned
Heathcliff. But Catherine quickly comes to love him, and the two soon grow
inseparable, spending their days playing on the moors. After his wife’s
death, Mr. Earnshaw grows to prefer Heathcliff to his own son, and when
Hindley continues his cruelty to Heathcliff, Mr. Earnshaw sends Hindley
away to college, keeping Heathcliff nearby.
Three years later, Mr. Earnshaw dies, and Hindley inherits Wuthering
Heights. He returns with a wife, Frances, and immediately seeks revenge on
Heathcliff. Now Heathcliff finds himself treated as a common laborer,
forced to work in the fields. He continues his close relationship with
Catherine and one night they wander to Thrushcross Grange, hoping to tease
Edgar and Isabella Linton, the cowardly, snobbish children who live there.
Catherine is bitten by a dog and is forced to stay at the Grange to recuperate
for five weeks, during which time Mrs. Linton works to make her a proper
young lady. By the time Catherine returns, she has become infatuated with
Edgar, and her relationship with Heathcliff grows more complicated.
When Frances dies after giving birth to a baby boy named Hareton, Hindley
becomes more alcoholic and behaves even more abusively toward
Heathcliff. Eventually, Catherine’s desire for social advancement prompts
her to become engaged to Edgar Linton, despite her overpowering love for
Heathcliff. Heathcliff runs away from Wuthering Heights, staying away for
three years, and returning shortly after Catherine and Edgar’s marriage.
When Heathcliff returns, he immediately sets about seeking revenge on all
who have wronged him. He deviously lends money to the drunken Hindley,
knowing that Hindley will increase his debts and fall into deeper
despondency and when Hindley dies, Heathcliff inherits the manor. He also
places himself in line to inherit Thrushcross Grange by marrying Isabella
Linton, whom he treats very cruelly. Catherine becomes ill, gives birth to a
daughter, and dies. Heathcliff begs her spirit to remain on Earth—she may
take whatever form she will, she may haunt him, drive him mad—just as
long as she does not leave him alone. Shortly thereafter, Isabella flees to
London and gives birth to Heathcliff’s son, named Linton after her family.
She keeps the boy with her there.
Thirteen years pass, during which Nelly Dean serves as Catherine’s
daughter’s nursemaid at Thrushcross Grange. Young Catherine is beautiful
and headstrong like her mother, but her temperament is modified by her
father’s gentler influence. Young Catherine grows up at the Grange with no
knowledge of Wuthering Heights; one day, however, wandering through the
moors, she discovers the manor, meets Hareton, and plays together with
him. Soon afterwards, Isabella dies, and Linton comes to live with
Heathcliff. Heathcliff treats his sickly, whining son even more cruelly than
he treated the boy’s mother.
Three years later, Catherine meets Heathcliff on the moors, and makes a
visit to Wuthering Heights to meet Linton. She and Linton begin a secret
romance conducted entirely through letters. When Nelly destroys
Catherine’s collection of letters, the girl begins sneaking out at night to
spend time with her frail young lover, who asks her to come back and nurse
him back to health. However, it quickly becomes apparent that Linton is
pursuing Catherine only because Heathcliff is forcing him to; Heathcliff
hopes that if Catherine marries Linton, his legal claim upon Thrushcross
Grange—and his revenge upon Edgar Linton—will be complete. One day,
as Edgar Linton grows ill and nears death, Heathcliff lures Nelly and
Catherine back to Wuthering Heights, and holds them prisoner until
Catherine marries Linton. Soon after the marriage, Edgar dies, and his death
is quickly followed by the death of the sickly Linton. Heathcliff now
controls both Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange. He forces
Catherine to live at Wuthering Heights and act as a common servant, while
he rents Thrushcross Grange to Lockwood.
Nelly’s story ends as she reaches the present. Lockwood, appalled, ends his
tenancy at Thrushcross Grange and returns to London. However, six months
later, he pays a visit to Nelly, and learns of further developments in the
story. Although Catherine originally mocked Hareton’s ignorance and
illiteracy (in an act of retribution, Heathcliff ended Hareton’s education after
Hindley died), Catherine grows to love Hareton as they live together at
Wuthering Heights. Heathcliff becomes more and more obsessed with the
memory of the elder Catherine, to the extent that he begins speaking to her
ghost. Everything he sees reminds him of her. Shortly after a night spent
walking on the moors, Heathcliff dies. Hareton and young Catherine inherit
Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange, and they plan to be married on
the next New Year’s Day. After hearing the end of the story, Lockwood goes
to visit the graves of Catherine and Heathcliff.
 Chapter III
I HAVE A CHANGE
The carrier's horse was the laziest horse in the world, I should hope, and shuffled along,
with his head down, as if he liked to keep people waiting to whom the packages were
directed. I fancied, indeed, that he sometimes chuckled audibly over this reflection, but
the carrier said he was only troubled with a cough. The carrier had a way of keeping his
head down, like his horse, and of drooping sleepily forward as he drove, with one of his
arms on each of his knees. I say 'drove', but it struck me that the cart would have gone to
Yarmouth quite as well without him, for the horse did all that; and as to conversation, he
had no idea of it but whistling.
Peggotty had a basket of refreshments on her knee, which would have lasted us out
handsomely, if we had been going to London by the same conveyance. We ate a good
deal, and slept a good deal. Peggotty always went to sleep with her chin upon the handle
of the basket, her hold of which never relaxed; and I could not have believed unless I had
heard her do it, that one defenceless woman could have snored so much.
We made so many deviations up and down lanes, and were such a long time delivering a
bedstead at a public-house, and calling at other places, that I was quite tired, and very
glad, when we saw Yarmouth. It looked rather spongy and soppy, I thought, as I carried
my eye over the great dull waste that lay across the river; and I could not help wondering,
if the world were really as round as my geography book said, how any part of it came to
be so flat. But I reflected that Yarmouth might be situated at one of the poles; which
would account for it.
As we drew a little nearer, and saw the whole adjacent prospect lying a straight low line
under the sky, I hinted to Peggotty that a mound or so might have improved it; and also
that if the land had been a little more separated from the sea, and the town and the tide
had not been quite so much mixed up, like toast and water, it would have been nicer. But
Peggotty said, with greater emphasis than usual, that we must take things as we found
them, and that, for her part, she was proud to call herself a Yarmouth Bloater.
When we got into the street (which was strange enough to me) and smelt the fish, and
pitch, and oakum, and tar, and saw the sailors walking about, and the carts jingling up
and down over the stones, I felt that I had done so busy a place an injustice; and said as
much to Peggotty, who heard my expressions of delight with great complacency, and told
me it was well known (I suppose to those who had the good fortune to be born Bloaters)
that Yarmouth was, upon the whole, the finest place in the universe.
'Here's my Am!' screamed Peggotty, 'growed out of knowledge!'
He was waiting for us, in fact, at the public-house; and asked me how I found myself, like
an old acquaintance. I did not feel, at first, that I knew him as well as he knew me,
because he had never come to our house since the night I was born, and naturally he had
the advantage of me. But our intimacy was much advanced by his taking me on his back
to carry me home. He was, now, a huge, strong fellow of six feet high, broad in
proportion, and round-shouldered; but with a simpering boy's face and curly light hair
that gave him quite a sheepish look. He was dressed in a canvas jacket, and a pair of such
very stiff trousers that they would have stood quite as well alone, without any legs in
them. And you couldn't so properly have said he wore a hat, as that he was covered in a-
top, like an old building, with something pitchy.
Ham carrying me on his back and a small box of ours under his arm, and Peggotty
carrying another small box of ours, we turned down lanes bestrewn with bits of chips and
little hillocks of sand, and went past gas-works, rope-walks, boat-builders' yards,
shipwrights' yards, ship-breakers' yards, caulkers' yards, riggers' lofts, smiths' forges, and
a great litter of such places, until we came out upon the dull waste I had already seen at a
distance; when Ham said,
'Yon's our house, Mas'r Davy!'
I looked in all directions, as far as I could stare over the wilderness, and away at the sea,
and away at the river, but no house could I make out. There was a black barge, or some
other kind of superannuated boat, not far off, high and dry on the ground, with an iron
funnel sticking out of it for a chimney and smoking very cosily; but nothing else in the
way of a habitation that was visible to me.
'That's not it?' said I. 'That ship-looking thing?'
'That's it, Mas'r Davy,' returned Ham.
If it had been Aladdin's palace, roc's egg and all, I suppose I could not have been more
charmed with the romantic idea of living in it. There was a delightful door cut in the side,
and it was roofed in, and there were little windows in it; but the wonderful charm of it
was, that it was a real boat which had no doubt been upon the water hundreds of times,
and which had never been intended to be lived in, on dry land. That was the captivation
of it to me. If it had ever been meant to be lived in, I might have thought it small, or
inconvenient, or lonely; but never having been designed for any such use, it became a
perfect abode.
It was beautifully clean inside, and as tidy as possible. There was a table, and a Dutch
clock, and a chest of drawers, and on the chest of drawers there was a tea-tray with a
painting on it of a lady with a parasol, taking a walk with a military-looking child who
was trundling a hoop. The tray was kept from tumbling down, by a bible; and the tray, if
it had tumbled down, would have smashed a quantity of cups and saucers and a teapot
that were grouped around the book. On the walls there were some common coloured
pictures, framed and glazed, of scripture subjects; such as I have never seen since in the
hands of pedlars, without seeing the whole interior of Peggotty's brother's house again, at
one view. Abraham in red going to sacrifice Isaac in blue, and Daniel in yellow cast into
a den of green lions, were the most prominent of these. Over the little mantelshelf, was a
picture of the 'Sarah Jane' lugger, built at Sunderland, with a real little wooden stern stuck
on to it; a work of art, combining composition with carpentry, which I considered to be
one of the most enviable possessions that the world could afford. There were some hooks
in the beams of the ceiling, the use of which I did not divine then; and some lockers and
boxes and conveniences of that sort, which served for seats and eked out the chairs.
All this I saw in the first glance after I crossed the threshold - child-like, according to my
theory - and then Peggotty opened a little door and showed me my bedroom. It was the
completest and most desirable bedroom ever seen - in the stern of the vessel; with a little
window, where the rudder used to go through; a little looking-glass, just the right height
for me, nailed against the wall, and framed with oyster-shells; a little bed, which there
was just room enough to get into; and a nosegay of seaweed in a blue mug on the table.
The walls were whitewashed as white as milk, and the patchwork counterpane made my
eyes quite ache with its brightness. One thing I particularly noticed in this delightful
house, was the smell of fish; which was so searching, that when I took out my pocket-
handkerchief to wipe my nose, I found it smelt exactly as if it had wrapped up a lobster.
On my imparting this discovery in confidence to Peggotty, she informed me that her
brother dealt in lobsters, crabs, and crawfish; and I afterwards found that a heap of these
creatures, in a state of wonderful conglomeration with one another, and never leaving off
pinching whatever they laid hold of, were usually to be found in a little wooden outhouse
where the pots and kettles were kept.
We were welcomed by a very civil woman in a white apron, whom I had seen curtseying
at the door when I was on Ham's back, about a quarter of a mile off. Likewise by a most
beautiful little girl (or I thought her so) with a necklace of blue beads on, who wouldn't
let me kiss her when I offered to, but ran away and hid herself. By and by, when we had
dined in a sumptuous manner off boiled dabs, melted butter, and potatoes, with a chop for
me, a hairy man with a very good-natured face came home. As he called Peggotty 'Lass',
and gave her a hearty smack on the cheek, I had no doubt, from the general propriety of
her conduct, that he was her brother; and so he turned out - being presently introduced to
me as Mr. Peggotty, the master of the house.
'Glad to see you, sir,' said Mr. Peggotty. 'You'll find us rough, sir, but you'll find us
ready.'
I thanked him, and replied that I was sure I should be happy in such a delightful place.
'How's your Ma, sir?' said Mr. Peggotty. 'Did you leave her pretty jolly?'
I gave Mr. Peggotty to understand that she was as jolly as I could wish, and that she
desired her compliments - which was a polite fiction on my part.
'I'm much obleeged to her, I'm sure,' said Mr. Peggotty. 'Well, sir, if you can make out
here, fur a fortnut, 'long wi' her,' nodding at his sister, 'and Ham, and little Em'ly, we shall
be proud of your company.'
Having done the honours of his house in this hospitable manner, Mr. Peggotty went out
to wash himself in a kettleful of hot water, remarking that 'cold would never get his muck
off'. He soon returned, greatly improved in appearance; but so rubicund, that I couldn't
help thinking his face had this in common with the lobsters, crabs, and crawfish, - that it
went into the hot water very black, and came out very red.
After tea, when the door was shut and all was made snug (the nights being cold and misty
now), it seemed to me the most delicious retreat that the imagination of man could
conceive. To hear the wind getting up out at sea, to know that the fog was creeping over
the desolate flat outside, and to look at the fire, and think that there was no house near but
this one, and this one a boat, was like enchantment. Little Em'ly had overcome her
shyness, and was sitting by my side upon the lowest and least of the lockers, which was
just large enough for us two, and just fitted into the chimney corner. Mrs. Peggotty with
the white apron, was knitting on the opposite side of the fire. Peggotty at her needlework
was as much at home with St. Paul's and the bit of wax-candle, as if they had never
known any other roof. Ham, who had been giving me my first lesson in all-fours, was
trying to recollect a scheme of telling fortunes with the dirty cards, and was printing off
fishy impressions of his thumb on all the cards he turned. Mr. Peggotty was smoking his
pipe. I felt it was a time for conversation and confidence.
'Mr. Peggotty!' says I.
'Sir,' says he.
'Did you give your son the name of Ham, because you lived in a sort of ark?'
Mr. Peggotty seemed to think it a deep idea, but answered:
'No, sir. I never giv him no name.'
'Who gave him that name, then?' said I, putting question number two of the catechism to
Mr. Peggotty.
'Why, sir, his father giv it him,' said Mr. Peggotty.
'I thought you were his father!'
'My brother Joe was his father,' said Mr. Peggotty.
'Dead, Mr. Peggotty?' I hinted, after a respectful pause.
'Drowndead,' said Mr. Peggotty.
I was very much surprised that Mr. Peggotty was not Ham's father, and began to wonder
whether I was mistaken about his relationship to anybody else there. I was so curious to
know, that I made up my mind to have it out with Mr. Peggotty.
'Little Em'ly,' I said, glancing at her. 'She is your daughter, isn't she, Mr. Peggotty?'
'No, sir. My brother-in-law, Tom, was her father.'
I couldn't help it. '- Dead, Mr. Peggotty?' I hinted, after another respectful silence.
'Drowndead,' said Mr. Peggotty.
I felt the difficulty of resuming the subject, but had not got to the bottom of it yet, and
must get to the bottom somehow. So I said:
'Haven't you ANY children, Mr. Peggotty?'
'No, master,' he answered with a short laugh. 'I'm a bacheldore.'
'A bachelor!' I said, astonished. 'Why, who's that, Mr. Peggotty?' pointing to the person in
the apron who was knitting.
'That's Missis Gummidge,' said Mr. Peggotty.
'Gummidge, Mr. Peggotty?'
But at this point Peggotty - I mean my own peculiar Peggotty - made such impressive
motions to me not to ask any more questions, that I could only sit and look at all the silent
company, until it was time to go to bed. Then, in the privacy of my own little cabin, she
informed me that Ham and Em'ly were an orphan nephew and niece, whom my host had
at different times adopted in their childhood, when they were left destitute: and that Mrs.
Gummidge was the widow of his partner in a boat, who had died very poor. He was but a
poor man himself, said Peggotty, but as good as gold and as true as steel - those were her
similes. The only subject, she informed me, on which he ever showed a violent temper or
swore an oath, was this generosity of his; and if it were ever referred to, by any one of
them, he struck the table a heavy blow with his right hand (had split it on one such
occasion), and swore a dreadful oath that he would be 'Gormed' if he didn't cut and run
for good, if it was ever mentioned again. It appeared, in answer to my inquiries, that
nobody had the least idea of the etymology of this terrible verb passive to be gormed; but
that they all regarded it as constituting a most solemn imprecation.
I was very sensible of my entertainer's goodness, and listened to the women's going to
bed in another little crib like mine at the opposite end of the boat, and to him and Ham
hanging up two hammocks for themselves on the hooks I had noticed in the roof, in a
very luxurious state of mind, enhanced by my being sleepy. As slumber gradually stole
upon me, I heard the wind howling out at sea and coming on across the flat so fiercely,
that I had a lazy apprehension of the great deep rising in the night. But I bethought myself
that I was in a boat, after all; and that a man like Mr. Peggotty was not a bad person to
have on board if anything did happen.
Nothing happened, however, worse than morning. Almost as soon as it shone upon the
oyster-shell frame of my mirror I was out of bed, and out with little Em'ly, picking up
stones upon the beach.
'You're quite a sailor, I suppose?' I said to Em'ly. I don't know that I supposed anything of
the kind, but I felt it an act of gallantry to say something; and a shining sail close to us
made such a pretty little image of itself, at the moment, in her bright eye, that it came into
my head to say this.
'No,' replied Em'ly, shaking her head, 'I'm afraid of the sea.'
'Afraid!' I said, with a becoming air of boldness, and looking very big at the mighty
ocean. 'I an't!'
'Ah! but it's cruel,' said Em'ly. 'I have seen it very cruel to some of our men. I have seen it
tear a boat as big as our house, all to pieces.'
'I hope it wasn't the boat that -'
'That father was drownded in?' said Em'ly. 'No. Not that one, I never see that boat.'
'Nor him?' I asked her.
Little Em'ly shook her head. 'Not to remember!'
Here was a coincidence! I immediately went into an explanation how I had never seen
my own father; and how my mother and I had always lived by ourselves in the happiest
state imaginable, and lived so then, and always meant to live so; and how my father's
grave was in the churchyard near our house, and shaded by a tree, beneath the boughs of
which I had walked and heard the birds sing many a pleasant morning. But there were
some differences between Em'ly's orphanhood and mine, it appeared. She had lost her
mother before her father; and where her father's grave was no one knew, except that it
was somewhere in the depths of the sea.
'Besides,' said Em'ly, as she looked about for shells and pebbles, 'your father was a
gentleman and your mother is a lady; and my father was a fisherman and my mother was
a fisherman's daughter, and my uncle Dan is a fisherman.'
'Dan is Mr. Peggotty, is he?' said I.
'Uncle Dan - yonder,' answered Em'ly, nodding at the boat-house.
'Yes. I mean him. He must be very good, I should think?'
'Good?' said Em'ly. 'If I was ever to be a lady, I'd give him a sky-blue coat with diamond
buttons, nankeen trousers, a red velvet waistcoat, a cocked hat, a large gold watch, a
silver pipe, and a box of money.'
I said I had no doubt that Mr. Peggotty well deserved these treasures. I must acknowledge
that I felt it difficult to picture him quite at his ease in the raiment proposed for him by
his grateful little niece, and that I was particularly doubtful of the policy of the cocked
hat; but I kept these sentiments to myself.
Little Em'ly had stopped and looked up at the sky in her enumeration of these articles, as
if they were a glorious vision. We went on again, picking up shells and pebbles.
'You would like to be a lady?' I said.
Emily looked at me, and laughed and nodded 'yes'.
'I should like it very much. We would all be gentlefolks together, then. Me, and uncle,
and Ham, and Mrs. Gummidge. We wouldn't mind then, when there comes stormy
weather. - Not for our own sakes, I mean. We would for the poor fishermen's, to be sure,
and we'd help 'em with money when they come to any hurt.' This seemed to me to be a
very satisfactory and therefore not at all improbable picture. I expressed my pleasure in
the contemplation of it, and little Em'ly was emboldened to say, shyly,
'Don't you think you are afraid of the sea, now?'
It was quiet enough to reassure me, but I have no doubt if I had seen a moderately large
wave come tumbling in, I should have taken to my heels, with an awful recollection of
her drowned relations. However, I said 'No,' and I added, 'You don't seem to be either,
though you say you are,' - for she was walking much too near the brink of a sort of old
jetty or wooden causeway we had strolled upon, and I was afraid of her falling over.
'I'm not afraid in this way,' said little Em'ly. 'But I wake when it blows, and tremble to
think of Uncle Dan and Ham and believe I hear 'em crying out for help. That's why I
should like so much to be a lady. But I'm not afraid in this way. Not a bit. Look here!'
She started from my side, and ran along a jagged timber which protruded from the place
we stood upon, and overhung the deep water at some height, without the least defence.
The incident is so impressed on my remembrance, that if I were a draughtsman I could
draw its form here, I dare say, accurately as it was that day, and little Em'ly springing
forward to her destruction (as it appeared to me), with a look that I have never forgotten,
directed far out to sea.
The light, bold, fluttering little figure turned and came back safe to me, and I soon
laughed at my fears, and at the cry I had uttered; fruitlessly in any case, for there was no
one near. But there have been times since, in my manhood, many times there have been,
when I have thought, Is it possible, among the possibilities of hidden things, that in the
sudden rashness of the child and her wild look so far off, there was any merciful
attraction of her into danger, any tempting her towards him permitted on the part of her
dead father, that her life might have a chance of ending that day? There has been a time
since when I have wondered whether, if the life before her could have been revealed to
me at a glance, and so revealed as that a child could fully comprehend it, and if her
preservation could have depended on a motion of my hand, I ought to have held it up to
save her. There has been a time since - I do not say it lasted long, but it has been - when I
have asked myself the question, would it have been better for little Em'ly to have had the
waters close above her head that morning in my sight; and when I have answered Yes, it
would have been.
This may be premature. I have set it down too soon, perhaps. But let it stand.
We strolled a long way, and loaded ourselves with things that we thought curious, and
put some stranded starfish carefully back into the water - I hardly know enough of the
race at this moment to be quite certain whether they had reason to feel obliged to us for
doing so, or the reverse - and then made our way home to Mr. Peggotty's dwelling. We
stopped under the lee of the lobster-outhouse to exchange an innocent kiss, and went in to
breakfast glowing with health and pleasure.
'Like two young mavishes,' Mr. Peggotty said. I knew this meant, in our local dialect, like
two young thrushes, and received it as a compliment.
Of course I was in love with little Em'ly. I am sure I loved that baby quite as truly, quite
as tenderly, with greater purity and more disinterestedness, than can enter into the best
love of a later time of life, high and ennobling as it is. I am sure my fancy raised up
something round that blue-eyed mite of a child, which etherealized, and made a very
angel of her. If, any sunny forenoon, she had spread a little pair of wings and flown away
before my eyes, I don't think I should have regarded it as much more than I had had
reason to expect.
We used to walk about that dim old flat at Yarmouth in a loving manner, hours and
hours. The days sported by us, as if Time had not grown up himself yet, but were a child
too, and always at play. I told Em'ly I adored her, and that unless she confessed she
adored me I should be reduced to the necessity of killing myself with a sword. She said
she did, and I have no doubt she did.
As to any sense of inequality, or youthfulness, or other difficulty in our way, little Em'ly
and I had no such trouble, because we had no future. We made no more provision for
growing older, than we did for growing younger. We were the admiration of Mrs.
Gummidge and Peggotty, who used to whisper of an evening when we sat, lovingly, on
our little locker side by side, 'Lor! wasn't it beautiful!' Mr. Peggotty smiled at us from
behind his pipe, and Ham grinned all the evening and did nothing else. They had
something of the sort of pleasure in us, I suppose, that they might have had in a pretty
toy, or a pocket model of the Colosseum.
I soon found out that Mrs. Gummidge did not always make herself so agreeable as she
might have been expected to do, under the circumstances of her residence with Mr.
Peggotty. Mrs. Gummidge's was rather a fretful disposition, and she whimpered more
sometimes than was comfortable for other parties in so small an establishment. I was very
sorry for her; but there were moments when it would have been more agreeable, I
thought, if Mrs. Gummidge had had a convenient apartment of her own to retire to, and
had stopped there until her spirits revived.
Mr. Peggotty went occasionally to a public-house called The Willing Mind. I discovered
this, by his being out on the second or third evening of our visit, and by Mrs.
Gummidge's looking up at the Dutch clock, between eight and nine, and saying he was
there, and that, what was more, she had known in the morning he would go there.
Mrs. Gummidge had been in a low state all day, and had burst into tears in the forenoon,
when the fire smoked. 'I am a lone lorn creetur',' were Mrs. Gummidge's words, when
that unpleasant occurrence took place, 'and everythink goes contrary with me.'
'Oh, it'll soon leave off,' said Peggotty - I again mean our Peggotty - 'and besides, you
know, it's not more disagreeable to you than to us.'
'I feel it more,' said Mrs. Gummidge.
It was a very cold day, with cutting blasts of wind. Mrs. Gummidge's peculiar corner of
the fireside seemed to me to be the warmest and snuggest in the place, as her chair was
certainly the easiest, but it didn't suit her that day at all. She was constantly complaining
of the cold, and of its occasioning a visitation in her back which she called 'the creeps'. At
last she shed tears on that subject, and said again that she was 'a lone lorn creetur' and
everythink went contrary with her'.
'It is certainly very cold,' said Peggotty. 'Everybody must feel it so.'
'I feel it more than other people,' said Mrs. Gummidge.
So at dinner; when Mrs. Gummidge was always helped immediately after me, to whom
the preference was given as a visitor of distinction. The fish were small and bony, and the
potatoes were a little burnt. We all acknowledged that we felt this something of a
disappointment; but Mrs. Gummidge said she felt it more than we did, and shed tears
again, and made that former declaration with great bitterness.
Accordingly, when Mr. Peggotty came home about nine o'clock, this unfortunate Mrs.
Gummidge was knitting in her corner, in a very wretched and miserable condition.
Peggotty had been working cheerfully. Ham had been patching up a great pair of
waterboots; and I, with little Em'ly by my side, had been reading to them. Mrs.
Gummidge had never made any other remark than a forlorn sigh, and had never raised
her eyes since tea.
'Well, Mates,' said Mr. Peggotty, taking his seat, 'and how are you?'
We all said something, or looked something, to welcome him, except Mrs. Gummidge,
who only shook her head over her knitting.
'What's amiss?' said Mr. Peggotty, with a clap of his hands. 'Cheer up, old Mawther!' (Mr.
Peggotty meant old girl.)
Mrs. Gummidge did not appear to be able to cheer up. She took out an old black silk
handkerchief and wiped her eyes; but instead of putting it in her pocket, kept it out, and
wiped them again, and still kept it out, ready for use.
'What's amiss, dame?' said Mr. Peggotty.
'Nothing,' returned Mrs. Gummidge. 'You've come from The Willing Mind, Dan'l?'
'Why yes, I've took a short spell at The Willing Mind tonight,' said Mr. Peggotty.
'I'm sorry I should drive you there,' said Mrs. Gummidge.
'Drive! I don't want no driving,' returned Mr. Peggotty with an honest laugh. 'I only go
too ready.'
'Very ready,' said Mrs. Gummidge, shaking her head, and wiping her eyes. 'Yes, yes, very
ready. I am sorry it should be along of me that you're so ready.'
'Along o' you! It an't along o' you!' said Mr. Peggotty. 'Don't ye believe a bit on it.'
'Yes, yes, it is,' cried Mrs. Gummidge. 'I know what I am. I know that I am a lone lorn
creetur', and not only that everythink goes contrary with me, but that I go contrary with
everybody. Yes, yes. I feel more than other people do, and I show it more. It's my
misfortun'.'
I really couldn't help thinking, as I sat taking in all this, that the misfortune extended to
some other members of that family besides Mrs. Gummidge. But Mr. Peggotty made no
such retort, only answering with another entreaty to Mrs. Gummidge to cheer up.
'I an't what I could wish myself to be,' said Mrs. Gummidge. 'I am far from it. I know
what I am. My troubles has made me contrary. I feel my troubles, and they make me
contrary. I wish I didn't feel 'em, but I do. I wish I could be hardened to 'em, but I an't. I
make the house uncomfortable. I don't wonder at it. I've made your sister so all day, and
Master Davy.'
Here I was suddenly melted, and roared out, 'No, you haven't, Mrs. Gummidge,' in great
mental distress.
'It's far from right that I should do it,' said Mrs. Gummidge. 'It an't a fit return. I had better
go into the house and die. I am a lone lorn creetur', and had much better not make myself
contrary here. If thinks must go contrary with me, and I must go contrary myself, let me
go contrary in my parish. Dan'l, I'd better go into the house, and die and be a riddance!'
Mrs. Gummidge retired with these words, and betook herself to bed. When she was gone,
Mr. Peggotty, who had not exhibited a trace of any feeling but the profoundest sympathy,
looked round upon us, and nodding his head with a lively expression of that sentiment
still animating his face, said in a whisper:
'She's been thinking of the old 'un!'
I did not quite understand what old one Mrs. Gummidge was supposed to have fixed her
mind upon, until Peggotty, on seeing me to bed, explained that it was the late Mr.
Gummidge; and that her brother always took that for a received truth on such occasions,
and that it always had a moving effect upon him. Some time after he was in his hammock
that night, I heard him myself repeat to Ham, 'Poor thing! She's been thinking of the old
'un!' And whenever Mrs. Gummidge was overcome in a similar manner during the
remainder of our stay (which happened some few times), he always said the same thing in
extenuation of the circumstance, and always with the tenderest commiseration.
So the fortnight slipped away, varied by nothing but the variation of the tide, which
altered Mr. Peggotty's times of going out and coming in, and altered Ham's engagements
also. When the latter was unemployed, he sometimes walked with us to show us the boats
and ships, and once or twice he took us for a row. I don't know why one slight set of
impressions should be more particularly associated with a place than another, though I
believe this obtains with most people, in reference especially to the associations of their
childhood. I never hear the name, or read the name, of Yarmouth, but I am reminded of a
certain Sunday morning on the beach, the bells ringing for church, little Em'ly leaning on
my shoulder, Ham lazily dropping stones into the water, and the sun, away at sea, just
breaking through the heavy mist, and showing us the ships, like their own shadows.
At last the day came for going home. I bore up against the separation from Mr. Peggotty
and Mrs. Gummidge, but my agony of mind at leaving little Em'ly was piercing. We went
arm-in-arm to the public-house where the carrier put up, and I promised, on the road, to
write to her. (I redeemed that promise afterwards, in characters larger than those in which
apartments are usually announced in manuscript, as being to let.) We were greatly
overcome at parting; and if ever, in my life, I have had a void made in my heart, I had
one made that day.
Now, all the time I had been on my visit, I had been ungrateful to my home again, and
had thought little or nothing about it. But I was no sooner turned towards it, than my
reproachful young conscience seemed to point that way with a ready finger; and I felt, all
the more for the sinking of my spirits, that it was my nest, and that my mother was my
comforter and friend.
This gained upon me as we went along; so that the nearer we drew, the more familiar the
objects became that we passed, the more excited I was to get there, and to run into her
arms. But Peggotty, instead of sharing in those transports, tried to check them (though
very kindly), and looked confused and out of sorts.
Blunderstone Rookery would come, however, in spite of her, when the carrier's horse
pleased - and did. How well I recollect it, on a cold grey afternoon, with a dull sky,
threatening rain!
The door opened, and I looked, half laughing and half crying in my pleasant agitation, for
my mother. It was not she, but a strange servant.
'Why, Peggotty!' I said, ruefully, 'isn't she come home?'
'Yes, yes, Master Davy,' said Peggotty. 'She's come home. Wait a bit, Master Davy, and
I'll - I'll tell you something.'
Between her agitation, and her natural awkwardness in getting out of the cart, Peggotty
was making a most extraordinary festoon of herself, but I felt too blank and strange to tell
her so. When she had got down, she took me by the hand; led me, wondering, into the
kitchen; and shut the door.
'Peggotty!' said I, quite frightened. 'What's the matter?'
'Nothing's the matter, bless you, Master Davy dear!' she answered, assuming an air of
sprightliness.
'Something's the matter, I'm sure. Where's mama?'
'Where's mama, Master Davy?' repeated Peggotty.
'Yes. Why hasn't she come out to the gate, and what have we come in here for? Oh,
Peggotty!' My eyes were full, and I felt as if I were going to tumble down.
'Bless the precious boy!' cried Peggotty, taking hold of me. 'What is it? Speak, my pet!'
'Not dead, too! Oh, she's not dead, Peggotty?'
Peggotty cried out No! with an astonishing volume of voice; and then sat down, and
began to pant, and said I had given her a turn.
I gave her a hug to take away the turn, or to give her another turn in the right direction,
and then stood before her, looking at her in anxious inquiry.
'You see, dear, I should have told you before now,' said Peggotty, 'but I hadn't an
opportunity. I ought to have made it, perhaps, but I couldn't azackly' - that was always the
substitute for exactly, in Peggotty's militia of words - 'bring my mind to it.'
'Go on, Peggotty,' said I, more frightened than before.
'Master Davy,' said Peggotty, untying her bonnet with a shaking hand, and speaking in a
breathless sort of way. 'What do you think? You have got a Pa!'
I trembled, and turned white. Something - I don't know what, or how - connected with the
grave in the churchyard, and the raising of the dead, seemed to strike me like an
unwholesome wind.
'A new one,' said Peggotty.
'A new one?' I repeated.
Peggotty gave a gasp, as if she were swallowing something that was very hard, and,
putting out her hand, said:
'Come and see him.'
'I don't want to see him.'
- 'And your mama,' said Peggotty.
I ceased to draw back, and we went straight to the best parlour, where she left me. On one
side of the fire, sat my mother; on the other, Mr. Murdstone. My mother dropped her
work, and arose hurriedly, but timidly I thought.
'Now, Clara my dear,' said Mr. Murdstone. 'Recollect! control yourself, always control
yourself! Davy boy, how do you do?'
I gave him my hand. After a moment of suspense, I went and kissed my mother: she
kissed me, patted me gently on the shoulder, and sat down again to her work. I could not
look at her, I could not look at him, I knew quite well that he was looking at us both; and
I turned to the window and looked out there, at some shrubs that were drooping their
heads in the cold.
As soon as I could creep away, I crept upstairs. My old dear bedroom was changed, and I
was to lie a long way off. I rambled downstairs to find anything that was like itself, so
altered it all seemed; and roamed into the yard. I very soon started back from there, for
the empty dog-kennel was filled up with a great dog - deep mouthed and black-haired
like Him - and he was very angry at the sight of me, and sprang out to get at me.

Text analysis
Dickens uses foreshadowing and cultivates an atmosphere of mystery in
order to make his story dramatic and capture our interest from the start. The
surreal circumstances under which David is born, including the appearance
of Miss Betsey, mark the first example of mystery in the novel. Although
Miss Betsey is absent for much of the story, she returns when David is in his
hour of most dire need. The darkness and abruptness established around
Miss Betsey in the opening chapter characterize her throughout the novel.
Likewise, David’s comment that Little Em’ly might have been better off in
the long run if the sea had swallowed her up as a child foreshadows painful
events that come later. By alluding to these future difficult circumstances
early in the novel, Dickens keeps us wondering what will happen to the
various characters as the novel unfolds. Throughout David Copperfield,
Dickens uses such foreshadowing not only to create suspense about future
events but also to establish an ominous tone.
Dickens portrays David as a gentle, naïve child in order to limit the novel’s
perspective and set up the dramatic irony of many of the story’s episodes.
We see many signs of David’s youth: his memory of Mr. Murdstone as
doglike, his failure to understand that Mr. Quinion and Mr. Murdstone make
jokes at his own expense, his memory of his mother’s hair and form, and so
on. We also see David’s innocence in his narrative voice, which focuses on
other characters’ best aspects and never hints at infidelity or betrayal.
Additionally, as a child, David often fears and dreads aspects of characters
that an adult would not. We might expect the adult David to rewrite the story
using his adult perspective to make sense of the things that baffled him as a
child. But David does not recast his childhood through an adult perspective.
As a result, we see the characters and the story as the young David did at the
time. David’s naïve voice preserves an element of surprise in the novel, as
David repeatedly fails to notice parts of the story that, if shown, would
reveal upcoming events.
By matching his characters’ physical traits to their emotional traits, Dickens
helps us categorize the many people we meet in the novel. Mr. Murdstone,
for example, sports a large black beard and evil-looking face that make him
appear like a beast—and indeed, he turns out to be a less than savory
character. In this way, David Copperfield is generally straightforward in its
depiction of good and evil characters. In most cases, characters are more or
less what they appear, which makes it easy for us to remember both their
outward appearances and internal traits. Also, because Dickens tends to
associate good with light and beauty and evil with dark and ugliness, the
images in the novel come into sharp contrast. Thus, when David’s mother
and Mr. Murdstone are together, the image is as physically and aesthetically
repugnant as it is morally unappealing. Though there are exceptions to this
general rule, the alliance of good with beauty and evil with ugliness persists
fairly regularly throughout David Copperfield.