David Copperfield

Chapter 27
Chapter 11 Self-Employment(3)
"I've pawned the crockery," said Mrs. Micawber, "six teaspoons, two salt spoons, and a sugar tong. But the twins are such a burden. I feel very sorry to think of papa and mamma." We have a few odds and ends to sell. But Mr. Micawber is never in the temper of selling them himself; Painful faux pas. So, Master Copperfield, if I beg you—”

I understood Mrs. Micawber's intention, and begged her to speak as much as she could.That night I took care of some small portable items for her; then almost every morning, before I went to the Morgue warehouse, I always went out for the same thing.

Mr. Micawber had several books in a little cupboard which he called a library.So I got rid of those books first, and I took those books one by one to a bookstall on Metropolitan Road, and sold them all regardless of the price.The stall owner who lived in the small house behind the bookstall was always drunk every night and scolded by his wife every morning.Many times, when I saw him early in the morning, he had either a bruise on his forehead or a bruised eye, evidence of the previous night's overdose (I'm afraid he was quarrelsome when he drank).So with a trembling hand, he fumbled for the necessary money in the pockets of the clothes scattered on the floor, while his wife held a baby in her arms and scolded him incessantly, sometimes throwing the money away. Lost it, let me come back next time, but his wife always had some money - I guess, he must have taken it when he was drunk - and we finished it secretly when we walked down the stairs together. deal.

When a deal was again done for Mrs. Micawber she gave a little celebration, usually a good dinner.These dinners always have a special taste in my impression.

At last Mr. Micawber came to the end of the road.One morning he was arrested and sent to the Supreme Court prison in Barlow.When he walked out the door, he told me that he was finished. At that time, I really thought his heart was dying, and so was I.But I heard shortly thereafter that he was still playing skittles with great gusto in prison.

On his most miserable Sunday, I would have liked to see him and have a meal with him.I asked for directions along the way to get there, and I was told that there I would see another place, and near that other place I would see an empty field, walk through the empty field, go straight, and meet a guard.I did all this one by one.When I finally met a guard, and remembered Roderick Langton in the debtors' prison, where there was a man with nothing but a ragged carpet, that guard showed up to my dull eyes and beating heart.

Mr. Micawber was waiting at the door, and we went up to his room (one floor below the penthouse) and wept a little.He told me earnestly to take him as a warning.And let me remember that if a man has an income of twenty pounds a year, and spends nineteen pounds nineteen and sixpence, he is happy; but if he spends twenty pounds a shilling, he is miserable.After that he took a shilling from me to the guard, handed me a bill to ask Mrs. Micawber for the money, and then cheered up.

We were sitting in front of the small fire, with a brick on each side of the rusty grate to keep from burning too much coal.Presently another debtor, Mr. Micawber's lodging, came out of the bakery with a loin of mutton for all three of us.Then Mr. Micawber sent me upstairs to "Captain Harpkin" in the head room, to express his kind regards, and to say that I was his good friend, and to ask Captain Harpkin to lend me a knife and fork. .

I took the things back, and with his blessing to Mr. Micawber.In his little room, there was a dirty woman, and two pale girls—his two shaggy-haired daughters.It was better, I thought, to borrow Captain Hampkin's knife and fork than Captain Hampkin's comb.The captain was indescribably shabby.He had sideburns all over his face, and he wore a battered brown overcoat with no other jacket underneath.I saw his bedding rolled up in a corner, the plates, saucers, pans he kept on a shelf; and I guessed (God only knows how I recognized it) that though those two shaggy girls were the captain's children, The dirty woman was not married to the captain.I stayed at the door shyly and timidly for at most 2 minutes, but I knew all this clearly.

A lunch has a gypsy flavor and is also very tasty.When I was done I returned the knife and fork to Captain Hapkins, and when I got back I told Mrs Micawber what had happened to comfort her.She fainted when I came back, and when we mentioned it afterwards, she thanked me with a small jug of sweetened egg oil.

I don't know how Mrs. Micawber got the money to support her family, if she sold the furniture, or by whom, except that I didn't sell it, but the furniture was sold, And it was taken away in a van, leaving only the bedding, a few chairs and the kitchen table.Mrs. Micawber-the children-the orphan-and I, with these belongings alone, camped in the two drawing-rooms of the empty house in Wenzelle, and lived in those rooms day and night.I forgot how long it was like this, but I remember a long time.Later Mrs. Micawber also wanted to move into the prison (Mr. Micawber was given a private room there).So I gave him back the key to the house, and he was very happy.Those beds, except mine, were sent to the Supreme Court prison, and I rented another hut not far from the prison to house my bed.I am very satisfied with my way of doing this, because I have established a deep relationship with their family during the adversity, and we can't bear to separate.The orphan also found a place near there for not much rent.While I was in a garret with a sloping roof, which had a pretty view of the pastures, it seemed to me that the cottage was the best possible place, considering Mr. Micawber's predicament.

At that time, as usual, I was still working in the Moe Ge warehouse with those few ordinary partners, with a feeling of humiliation as in the beginning.But it was a great blessing to me at the time that I never met any of them, nor spoke to the many young people I saw every day going in and out of the warehouse, eating, and wandering the streets.I was as unhappy as ever; I lived with an attitude of not being dependent on others.The only changes I'm aware of are: first, I've become more shabby; and second, I'm now relieved of the weight of many of the worries about the Micawbers—because their relatives and friends have come to help them when they're down. Get over it.They were happier in prison than they were many times outside.Relying on these help, I often have breakfast with them, I often get up at six o'clock, and wander around Old London Bridge in my free time, I am used to sitting on the ledge bricks there, observing the people passing by; The sun reflected in the water and reflected golden flames on the monument.Sometimes the orphan comes here and sees me, and I tell her strange anecdotes.When I went to prison in the evening, I sometimes walked on the playground with Mr. Micawber, and sometimes played cards with Mrs. Micawber, listening to her reminisce about her parents.Whether Mr. Murdstone knew about me, I don't know, because I never told the folks at Moore's Warehouse.

Although Mr. Micawber passed the critical moment, he was bound and implicated by the "deed".I have often heard them refer to that deed, which, as I now think, must have been a kind of deed previously made to the creditor, but I did not know it then, and confused it with the old German parchment which had something to do with the devil.It was only later that I realized that its effectiveness was not as good as before. In any case, it was no longer a hindrance to my future.Mrs. Micawber told me that "her natal family" had believed that Mr. Micawber should be released from prison under the Bankrupts Act.In that case, he would be free in six weeks.

"By then," said Mr. Micawber, "I will, thank God, be out of it, and be able to begin a new kind of life—if, at any rate, it doesn't come to me."

I recall that Mr. Micawber at that time presented a petition to the House of Commons to amend the prison for debt provisions.The reason why I record this matter here is because I use the old things in my diary combined with my life experience, and use the trivial things in the market and the way ordinary men and women make up stories to prove it; and, when writing my biography, I It may again be exemplified how some of the main characteristics, which had been developed unconsciously, are now continuously and gradually developed.

There was a club in the prison at that time, and Mr. Micawber was one of the great authorities because he belonged to the upper class.Mr. Micawber had published in the club the general outlines of his submission, and the members of the club were very much in favor of him.So Mr. Micawber (who was a thoroughly genial man, active in everything but his own, and who was always more than happy to deal with matters in which his interests had no conflict with him) began to write his submissions.Make a draft first, select a certain period, as long as everyone in the club and prison agrees, they can sign on it.

Although I was acquainted with them, when I heard about the approaching ceremony, I was so eager to see how they all came in one by one, so I took an hour's leave from the Morgue Warehouse, specially for the purpose of that day. Things arrange themselves in one place.The principal members of the club stood as far into the room as possible, and cheered Mr. Micawber by crowding him in front of the paper.My old friend Captain Hupkin approached the paper, and read it to all who were not acquainted with its contents.Then the door opened and everyone filed in, signing their names.Captain Hupkins said to everyone who filed in: "Have you read the papers?"—"Not yet."—"Would you like to hear me read?" If the man showed the slightest interest, Captain Hupkin read every word of the petition to him in a loud voice. If 2 people asked him to read it one by one, the captain would definitely read the petition [-] times.I still remember that every time he read the words "representatives of the people who are sitting in the parliament", "therefore, I respectfully apply to your court", "the unfortunate subjects of your merciful majesty", he would savor them proudly, as if These words are a kind of solid thing in his mouth, and he is willing to eat them.At this time, Mr. Micawber showed a little author's complacency, and while listening, he squinted (not seriously) at a certain place opposite him.

When I walked between Sadek and Blake Fryer every day, when I wandered in the quiet streets (the stones of which were probably crushed by my young feet by this time) I don't know how many of that group that passed me one by one while Captain Harpkin read the statement loudly are no longer there! When I gave them made-up stories, I thought about how much those stories, those fictional episodes, hung like a fog over the well-remembered horrors! I was not surprised when I went back to the old place--I seemed to see both I also pity the innocent and imaginative boy who walks before me, creating his world out of such special experiences and humble things.

(End of this chapter)