Dickensians! discussion
David Copperfield - Group Read 1
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May - June 2020: David Copperfield: chapters 45 - 64
I like how Aunt Betsey is a tower of strength. I accept that Victorian men (sometimes including Charles Dickens) thought there was such as thing as "forming a [woman's] mind". But I really don't like that David is so condescending with Traddles that he tries to do this with him too!
Neither do I like the idea that the young noodles are somehow responsible for the servants' theft. This is a sort of victim mentality, or worse, the "she asked for it" syndrome which persists today, in matters of female dress, etc. It diverts attention from the perpetrator.
I suspect this attitude was the norm then, so that David, in character, did not think twice about it. It could have been an extension of the idea that gentlemen had a naturally superior moral code, therefore working people would not hesitate to take advantage. Even when the page is sorry for his misdemeanours, he employs the dubious tactic of informing on the others.
However, we have seen from Charles Dickens's depiction of the Peggottys, that he views poor people as just as honourable - or dishonourable - in their actions as their social superiors. Yet again, he questions the accepted view.
Neither do I like the idea that the young noodles are somehow responsible for the servants' theft. This is a sort of victim mentality, or worse, the "she asked for it" syndrome which persists today, in matters of female dress, etc. It diverts attention from the perpetrator.
I suspect this attitude was the norm then, so that David, in character, did not think twice about it. It could have been an extension of the idea that gentlemen had a naturally superior moral code, therefore working people would not hesitate to take advantage. Even when the page is sorry for his misdemeanours, he employs the dubious tactic of informing on the others.
However, we have seen from Charles Dickens's depiction of the Peggottys, that he views poor people as just as honourable - or dishonourable - in their actions as their social superiors. Yet again, he questions the accepted view.


Her statements about Jip: "And I couldn't bear to slight him, because he was a little altered" and "I couldn't have any other dog but Jip…..I couldn't be such friends with another dog but Jip, because he wouldn't have known me before I was married, wouldn't have barked at Doady when he first came to our house." These express such loyalty. No matter who or what a person or pet is, Dora accepts them for who and what they are. She also values the history they have together. She understands the adage "new friends are silver but old friends are gold". No new dog for her; she's loyal to Jip, even if he ages and can no longer entertain her or be what he once was.
She would have these same attributes to everyone she knows and cares for.
That doesn't make her a good housewife and the servants need a stronger direction, but it does show a loyal and true heart.
Despite the humor; the situation with the servants is a bit puzzling. It implies that unless the employer is always watching, always underfoot, always suspicious & checking the silver, that the servants will rob them blind. It's a bit insulting to the servant class to say that they need constant vigilance and surveillance in order to do their job lawfully.
I didn't like the implication that a servant cannot do their job lawfully unless constantly under surveillance. I would hate to work for someone who distrusts me that much and shows it so readily.
One letter to Peggotty would have cleared this right up. She would either have taken over the running of the household or trained the hired help properly, setting them up for life. Everyone needs training and direction in any job in order to do it right and well. The servants of David & Dora don't have that.
As Robin has said…..the Victorian Wasting Disease. Oh dear. Poor Dora.

Jean, this is so fascinating! I know both pictures, but I had no idea that the second one was inspired by Dickens.
It’s funny: the girl looks pretty much like the Emily that is in my mind. Steerforth doesn’t, though.

I like that statement too. I see two different meanings in it.
The first one is the loyalty for her beloved pet, as you pointed out.
But I also see a second meaning: a deep nostalgia of those days when she was not married. In those time she was happy being her father’s child before, and her aunts’ plaything afterwards. No challenging skills were requested to her. No cookery-books, or account-books or unruly servants scared her. But with marriage, her childhood days were over: she was requested to be an adult, and not being able to be an “adult-wife”, was frustrating for her: that’s when she probably realised that she was not a brilliant person. David’s attempt “to form her mind” reminded her that she was not fit for her new role in life, and that her husband was not so happy with her. Jip represents those carefree days when all that was requested to her was playing and singing, and being beautiful.



Yes, that’s what I think too! Although Jip is more important to Dora than any other dog would be, because, like Dora says, he has known her before she was married. That is sad.

Jean, I was also confused by that passage about the narrator's modesty (or lack of it). I never could figure out where he stood with it! :)

Am I a bad person for crying over Jip getting older and not over Martha? It was quite emotional to hear Dora say that they should stick a just a little longer to each other with all that foreboding.


Still, this chapter has made me feel softer towards Dora. I've been a hard critic of her. She's not my favorite character; she's too passive and noodle-y (to use Jean's description). But maybe the world needs a few tender, cheerful, non-responsible bubble-heads.
Cindy wrote: "Did anyone else see it this way? Or am I just being too picky?..."
I think it's spot on, Cindy (and Petra). This paternalism of the gentlefolk goes hand in hand with half expecting the poorer people to be thieves and rogues. They feel they can "improve" them - if they're not too "bad".
Robin - you nearly made me spill my coffee laughing!
Milena - these Pre-Raphaelite paintings are perhaps more familiar to us Europeans, especially when they're housed in a country's capital. I too always feel startled to learn of another connection with a painting which is already known to me; far more so than if it is one I do not know :)
I really like your insight as to the double meaning behind Dora's words. David (as narrator) has made a little speech about how he yearns for the past, and his time at the Wickfields' house, but Dora too feels nostalgia for the time before her marriage. As Sara observed, Dora had probably never felt - never mind been told been told - that she was a failure until she met David.
In fact their marriage has not turned out for either of the couple as they had hoped. It's just that David grouses about it more!
France-Andrée - a pet who has features as much as Jip is surely a character in his own right, to feel sorry for ;) But actually the foreboding in this chapter is strong, as everyone has said. So that brings our emotions to the surface, I think. I do hope your head feels better tomorrow! Perhaps tomorrow's chapter will be more optimistic, and that might help :)
I think Dora's simplicity has won us all round. She's probably immensely annoying to live with, but she is sweet, and doesn't seem to have an ounce of malice in her. Even now her legs are too weak to support her, she does not complain, but spends her time being light-hearted and making the others happy.
I'm interested to see that both Dora and Mr Dick know they are different in some way, and not to be trusted with responsibility. They are both children, in their minds.
I think it's spot on, Cindy (and Petra). This paternalism of the gentlefolk goes hand in hand with half expecting the poorer people to be thieves and rogues. They feel they can "improve" them - if they're not too "bad".
Robin - you nearly made me spill my coffee laughing!
Milena - these Pre-Raphaelite paintings are perhaps more familiar to us Europeans, especially when they're housed in a country's capital. I too always feel startled to learn of another connection with a painting which is already known to me; far more so than if it is one I do not know :)
I really like your insight as to the double meaning behind Dora's words. David (as narrator) has made a little speech about how he yearns for the past, and his time at the Wickfields' house, but Dora too feels nostalgia for the time before her marriage. As Sara observed, Dora had probably never felt - never mind been told been told - that she was a failure until she met David.
In fact their marriage has not turned out for either of the couple as they had hoped. It's just that David grouses about it more!
France-Andrée - a pet who has features as much as Jip is surely a character in his own right, to feel sorry for ;) But actually the foreboding in this chapter is strong, as everyone has said. So that brings our emotions to the surface, I think. I do hope your head feels better tomorrow! Perhaps tomorrow's chapter will be more optimistic, and that might help :)
I think Dora's simplicity has won us all round. She's probably immensely annoying to live with, but she is sweet, and doesn't seem to have an ounce of malice in her. Even now her legs are too weak to support her, she does not complain, but spends her time being light-hearted and making the others happy.
I'm interested to see that both Dora and Mr Dick know they are different in some way, and not to be trusted with responsibility. They are both children, in their minds.

Petra wrote: "noodle-y (to use Jean's description)..."
It's actually Charles Dickens's, through David. Earlier, he says "we were both a couple of noodles". I do like it though :)
It's actually Charles Dickens's, through David. Earlier, he says "we were both a couple of noodles". I do like it though :)

Does anyone else think that in spite of Dora’s silliness she thought of Agnes as a rival? Her question to David, “Are you sure you don’t think, sometimes, it would have been better to have——“. I want to fill in the blank with - married Agnes. Even stupid girls have a radar for this sort of thing. Thoughts?

With David's literary success he seems to be extremely self aggrandizing and haughty toward Dora and his friend Traddles. He comes across as a bit of a twit and self-centered, once again considering he can improve Dora and even Traddles. With his own success he seems to be less accepting and increasingly dissatisfied (although not cruel or mean) that Dora couldn't be more suitable to his mind and purpose and like some kind of martyr has to take on the burden "to bear on my own shoulders what I must and be happy still." What his life might have been with someone like Agnes. At least he does recognize that his own heart was an "undisciplined heart when it first loved Dora," and it is his continued love for her that he must now try to discipline his heart to "adapt himself to Dora and be happy - and he states he was happy in this second year of marriage where he "made Dora's life all sunshine." He has decided that Dora'a mind is as "formed" as it will ever be and he will have to be happy with that! Sad foreshadowing with Dora's decline.
As Jean stated, there certainly is a question of which narrator we are hearing in this chapter as Dickens' own voice is present as well as both the young and old David. I have the Forster biography but haven't been able to read it as yet, but wondering if Dickens was ever regretful of how he treated his own wife, Catherine?

Am I a bad person for crying over Jip getting older and not over Martha? It was quite emotional to hear Dora say that they should stick a just a little lo..."
lol. No! I cried over Martha, but I was surprised that I did. I didn't cry over Jip, but it did tug at the heartstrings. Crying is not a right or wrong response. 🤗

I don't think she looks at Agnes as a rival, I think she looks at Agnes as what she feels she ought to be, but cannot be. She recognizes in Agnes all the qualities that are lacking in herself, but she is so "sweet" that she would never harbor a bad thought against Agnes for that. I still think that is how she would fill in your blank, though.
BTW, I love your observation about the keys.
Chapter 49:
To his surprise, David receives a letter from Mr Micawber. It is typically verbose: as David says, a "roundabout communication", but David makes allowances for Mr Micawber's flowery language and reads it more than once (as we reader also must) to get to the gist of what he is saying. Mr Micawber will be waiting outside the King’s Bench Prison in two days time, at seven p.m., and hopes he can see both David and Traddles there if possible.
David is still puzzling over this letter, when Traddles himself arrives, and tells David that he too has received a letter - but from Mrs. Micawber. They swap letters, and both read them carefully. Mrs Micawber's letter is written in similar vein, but is not quite so "lofty" in style. She say that Mr Micawber is not himself at all:
"Mr. T. can form no adequate idea of the change in Mr. Micawber’s conduct, of his wildness, of his violence. It has gradually augmented, until it assumes the appearance of aberration of intellect. Scarcely a day passes, I assure Mr. Traddles, on which some paroxysm does not take place."
She begs Traddles to see her husband and try to reason with him, and to recruit David too, if he can. They agree that they will meet with Mr Micawber as he suggested, and do what they can to help.
When they arrive at King’s Bench Prison, Mr Micawber is already there, even though they are early. He is not dressed with his usual style and care, although he has put aside his legal clothes. Mr Micawber attempts to be his old self, speaking at length and with his former gentility and cordiality. As time goes on, however, he asks that they should walk down a quiet side road, as he is is much affected, and there he breaks down in tears.
Traddles comments sympathetically that he seems in low spirits, and that he hopes it is not the Law which makes him so, as this is also Traddles's occupation. David goes on to mention Uriah Heep, and Mr Micawber replies with a torrent of emotions, showing the turmoil he feels:
"his appearance is foxy: not to say diabolical. You will allow me, as a private individual, to decline pursuing a subject which has lashed me to the utmost verge of desperation in my professional capacity"
and goes on in an hysterical way, to praise his wife to the skies, and wish he were dead. Traddles and David wonder if talking about it will help. Mr Micawber is in such a state that he says:
"Gentlemen ... do with me as you will! I am a straw upon the surface of the deep, and am tossed in all directions by the elephants—I beg your pardon; I should have said the elements"
and they determine to take him to Aunt Betsey's cottage, since Dora is not well.
Although neither Aunt Betsey nor Mr Dick have met Mr Micawber, David has spoken of him often, and they are keen to help if they can. Mr Dick quickly understands how upset Mr Micawber is, and shakes his hand repeatedly, to try and cheer him up. Mr Micawber is touched and grateful by this courtesy to a stranger, and finds it very affecting.
After enquiring how he and his family are, and receiving a Micawber-ish reply, Aunt Betsey gets straight to the point:
"‘They are as well, ma’am,’ he desperately observed after a pause, ‘as Aliens and Outcasts can ever hope to be.’
‘Lord bless you, sir!’ exclaimed my aunt, in her abrupt way. ‘What are you talking about?’"
Mr Micawber makes an attempt to explain, but stalls on the word "employer". Mr Dick helpfully reminds him, and Mr Micawber breaks out with a fresh torrent, saying that Heep had told him that if he were not working for him, he would probably be reduced to being a sword-swallower in a circus, Mrs Micawber would be playing a barrel-organ and their children would be contortionists. He attempts to carry on making the lemon punch, but his emotions are running so high that David begs to know what is the matter.
"What is the matter, gentlemen? What is NOT the matter? Villainy is the matter; baseness is the matter; deception, fraud, conspiracy, are the matter; and the name of the whole atrocious mass is—HEEP!"

Mr Micawber's tirade about Heep
Mr Micawber is completely taken over by the strength of his feelings, and roundly condemns Heep, until they fear that he will have some kind of paroxysm:
"‘I’ll put my hand in no man’s hand,’ said Mr. Micawber, gasping, puffing, and sobbing, to that degree that he was like a man fighting with cold water, ‘until I have—blown to fragments—the—a—detestable—serpent—HEEP! I’ll partake of no one’s hospitality, until I have—a—moved Mount Vesuvius—to eruption—on—a—the abandoned rascal—HEEP! Refreshment—a—underneath this roof—particularly punch—would—a—choke me—unless—I had—previously—choked the eyes—out of the head—a—of—interminable cheat, and liar—HEEP! I—a—I’ll know nobody—and—a—say nothing—and—a—live nowhere—until I have crushed—to—a—undiscoverable atoms—the—transcendent and immortal hypocrite and perjurer—HEEP!’"
This passionate diatribe continues for a good while, and they learn that there is an "inviolable secret from the whole world", something to do with Miss Wickfield, which he will reveal to them all at the hotel at Canterbury, with Mrs. Micawber, and there he "will expose intolerable ruffian—HEEP!"
Later, David receives a letter from Mr Micawber, apologising for his outburst, but also confirming this appointment.
To his surprise, David receives a letter from Mr Micawber. It is typically verbose: as David says, a "roundabout communication", but David makes allowances for Mr Micawber's flowery language and reads it more than once (as we reader also must) to get to the gist of what he is saying. Mr Micawber will be waiting outside the King’s Bench Prison in two days time, at seven p.m., and hopes he can see both David and Traddles there if possible.
David is still puzzling over this letter, when Traddles himself arrives, and tells David that he too has received a letter - but from Mrs. Micawber. They swap letters, and both read them carefully. Mrs Micawber's letter is written in similar vein, but is not quite so "lofty" in style. She say that Mr Micawber is not himself at all:
"Mr. T. can form no adequate idea of the change in Mr. Micawber’s conduct, of his wildness, of his violence. It has gradually augmented, until it assumes the appearance of aberration of intellect. Scarcely a day passes, I assure Mr. Traddles, on which some paroxysm does not take place."
She begs Traddles to see her husband and try to reason with him, and to recruit David too, if he can. They agree that they will meet with Mr Micawber as he suggested, and do what they can to help.
When they arrive at King’s Bench Prison, Mr Micawber is already there, even though they are early. He is not dressed with his usual style and care, although he has put aside his legal clothes. Mr Micawber attempts to be his old self, speaking at length and with his former gentility and cordiality. As time goes on, however, he asks that they should walk down a quiet side road, as he is is much affected, and there he breaks down in tears.
Traddles comments sympathetically that he seems in low spirits, and that he hopes it is not the Law which makes him so, as this is also Traddles's occupation. David goes on to mention Uriah Heep, and Mr Micawber replies with a torrent of emotions, showing the turmoil he feels:
"his appearance is foxy: not to say diabolical. You will allow me, as a private individual, to decline pursuing a subject which has lashed me to the utmost verge of desperation in my professional capacity"
and goes on in an hysterical way, to praise his wife to the skies, and wish he were dead. Traddles and David wonder if talking about it will help. Mr Micawber is in such a state that he says:
"Gentlemen ... do with me as you will! I am a straw upon the surface of the deep, and am tossed in all directions by the elephants—I beg your pardon; I should have said the elements"
and they determine to take him to Aunt Betsey's cottage, since Dora is not well.
Although neither Aunt Betsey nor Mr Dick have met Mr Micawber, David has spoken of him often, and they are keen to help if they can. Mr Dick quickly understands how upset Mr Micawber is, and shakes his hand repeatedly, to try and cheer him up. Mr Micawber is touched and grateful by this courtesy to a stranger, and finds it very affecting.
After enquiring how he and his family are, and receiving a Micawber-ish reply, Aunt Betsey gets straight to the point:
"‘They are as well, ma’am,’ he desperately observed after a pause, ‘as Aliens and Outcasts can ever hope to be.’
‘Lord bless you, sir!’ exclaimed my aunt, in her abrupt way. ‘What are you talking about?’"
Mr Micawber makes an attempt to explain, but stalls on the word "employer". Mr Dick helpfully reminds him, and Mr Micawber breaks out with a fresh torrent, saying that Heep had told him that if he were not working for him, he would probably be reduced to being a sword-swallower in a circus, Mrs Micawber would be playing a barrel-organ and their children would be contortionists. He attempts to carry on making the lemon punch, but his emotions are running so high that David begs to know what is the matter.
"What is the matter, gentlemen? What is NOT the matter? Villainy is the matter; baseness is the matter; deception, fraud, conspiracy, are the matter; and the name of the whole atrocious mass is—HEEP!"

Mr Micawber's tirade about Heep
Mr Micawber is completely taken over by the strength of his feelings, and roundly condemns Heep, until they fear that he will have some kind of paroxysm:
"‘I’ll put my hand in no man’s hand,’ said Mr. Micawber, gasping, puffing, and sobbing, to that degree that he was like a man fighting with cold water, ‘until I have—blown to fragments—the—a—detestable—serpent—HEEP! I’ll partake of no one’s hospitality, until I have—a—moved Mount Vesuvius—to eruption—on—a—the abandoned rascal—HEEP! Refreshment—a—underneath this roof—particularly punch—would—a—choke me—unless—I had—previously—choked the eyes—out of the head—a—of—interminable cheat, and liar—HEEP! I—a—I’ll know nobody—and—a—say nothing—and—a—live nowhere—until I have crushed—to—a—undiscoverable atoms—the—transcendent and immortal hypocrite and perjurer—HEEP!’"
This passionate diatribe continues for a good while, and they learn that there is an "inviolable secret from the whole world", something to do with Miss Wickfield, which he will reveal to them all at the hotel at Canterbury, with Mrs. Micawber, and there he "will expose intolerable ruffian—HEEP!"
Later, David receives a letter from Mr Micawber, apologising for his outburst, but also confirming this appointment.
I do wonder if Charles Dickens's father, John Dickens, was really so verbose in his letter-writing ... If so there's really no wonder he couldn't keep a job for very long!
This chapter was definitely the wordiest we have had yet! I do tire easily now, of Mr Micawber's pomposity and grandiloquence - not to mention the bathos :( Charles Dickens has made the point about him by now - this is just self-indulgence on the author's part, in my opinion, probably because of his father. I'm not sure Mr Micawber's letter need have been quite so long to be in character - and then a second letter from Mrs Micawber? Oh my. I'm sure I read each paragraph at least twice over to be sure. It's not just David and Traddles who were full of consternation. Does anyone else feel like this?
So why didn't David respond to Mrs Micawber's heartfelt first letter? That was a lead which didn't seem to go anywhere - and I think David would probably have mentioned it to Traddles at least, since Traddles had also lodged with the Micawbers for a long time.
Also, is it likely that the wily Uriah Heep would really have let anyone - let alone Mr Micawber - into his confidence enough for him to gain enough information to "expose" anything nefarious? Uriah Heep knows Mr Micawber has, let's say limitations in his money sense, so is he really going to trust him with financial secrets?
This is my least favourite chapter so far, as I found the humour so heavy-handed (although I did laugh at the elephants!)
But I did like the way that once again, Mr Dick's wise simplicity made Betsey Trotwood "proud", and was the trigger for the crux of the matter to be (thank goodness!) revealed.
This chapter was definitely the wordiest we have had yet! I do tire easily now, of Mr Micawber's pomposity and grandiloquence - not to mention the bathos :( Charles Dickens has made the point about him by now - this is just self-indulgence on the author's part, in my opinion, probably because of his father. I'm not sure Mr Micawber's letter need have been quite so long to be in character - and then a second letter from Mrs Micawber? Oh my. I'm sure I read each paragraph at least twice over to be sure. It's not just David and Traddles who were full of consternation. Does anyone else feel like this?
So why didn't David respond to Mrs Micawber's heartfelt first letter? That was a lead which didn't seem to go anywhere - and I think David would probably have mentioned it to Traddles at least, since Traddles had also lodged with the Micawbers for a long time.
Also, is it likely that the wily Uriah Heep would really have let anyone - let alone Mr Micawber - into his confidence enough for him to gain enough information to "expose" anything nefarious? Uriah Heep knows Mr Micawber has, let's say limitations in his money sense, so is he really going to trust him with financial secrets?
This is my least favourite chapter so far, as I found the humour so heavy-handed (although I did laugh at the elephants!)
But I did like the way that once again, Mr Dick's wise simplicity made Betsey Trotwood "proud", and was the trigger for the crux of the matter to be (thank goodness!) revealed.

Mr. and Mrs. Micawber go on too much sometimes for my tastes, but you are given a real sense of how extreme the situation is when you see how out of joint they are. They have always been such a united front before Micawber took this position...how bad is a thing if Mr. Micawber feels he cannot share his role in it with Mrs. Micawber.

I am so glad that maybe Heep will finally be exposed for the villain that he is.


I’m sure Heep thought he could easily control Mr Micawber because of his financial situation and inability to stay out of debt. Fingers crossed - this idea will backfire on Heep.


This sounds like Uriah Heep is forcing Mr Micawber to do something very corrupt since he feels that he's sold himself to the devil. It's going way beyond living above his income and going into debt. Mr Micawber cannot live with himself when he has this on his conscience.


I agree with Sara and Lori the word "fraud" has to be significant. I can't wait to see what Micawber will reveal about Heep, feels a little early to have the storyline with Heep wind down, but we are approaching the ending and lots of differents threads will end.
I agree, Charles Dickens certainly does have lots of threads to tie up. And he will, that's one of the great things about him :) I'm not sure any chapter has carried on with the same little story - we always seem to switch to another set of characters, so we can mull over the possibilities.


Sara, you are so right. Just when you start wondering about a particular character, up they pop. I started thinking about Emily a couple of days ago, and lo and behold! The very next chapter was about her. His timing is impeccable!

Chapter 50:
More months pass, and David does not hear from Martha, and fears Emily may be dead. Mr Peggotty does not hear either, but never loses his faith that Emily will eventually be recovered. He travels many miles, even to Naples, whenever he hears that she has been seen in a particular place.
Dora has met Mr Peggotty, and grown to trust him. The older David muses for a while, on the memory of their two figures in front of him, and of the old times in the boathouse. One evening Mr Peggotty tells David that Martha had been waiting for him, and had asked him not to leave London until he saw her again. He does not know why. Both speculate on this, but not a word more is said between them.
About a fortnight later, David is in the garden of his cottage when he sees Martha. She asks him to go with her, which he does immediately, and they take a coach to Golden Square (Soho, in London).
"the houses were once fair dwellings in the occupation of single families, but have, and had, long degenerated into poor lodgings let off in rooms ...
The house swarmed with inmates ... It [had] a broad panelled staircase, with massive balustrades of some dark wood; cornices above the doors, ornamented with carved fruit and flowers; and broad seats in the windows. But all these tokens of past grandeur were miserably decayed and dirty; rot, damp, and age, had weakened the flooring, which in many places was unsound and even unsafe ...
I saw, through other glassless windows, into other houses in a similar condition, and looked giddily down into a wretched yard, which was the common dust-heap of the mansion."
Climbing the staircase to the top, Martha stops in surprise, for she does not know the woman who has gone in her room. However David does: it is Rosa Dartle. Martha urges him into a side room where they may hear everything that goes on. Rosa Dartle is not alone, and there is a soft response to her haughty demand:
"At the sound of it, a thrill went through my frame. For it was Emily’s!"
David cannot see Emily, but has a good view of Miss Dartle:
"I could see her curled lip, and her cruel eyes intently fixed on one place, with a greedy triumph."
Her only desire is to gloat upon the fallen woman and "purchased slave" Emily, who in her rage she tortures her with her taunts and invectives. Emily begs for mercy, saying that she know she deserves this, but will not hear a word against her family, and stands up for their honour. However, it is of no use.

Rosa Dartle Confronts Emily - Fred Barnard
"I saw the flashing black eyes, and the passion-wasted figure; and I saw the scar, with its white track cutting through her lips, quivering and throbbing as she spoke ...
Her rage got the better of her again, for a moment; but it passed over her face like a spasm, and left her smiling."
Rosa Dartle threatens Emily, saying that unless she runs away into some obscure corner of the world where she may die, or lives openly as a fallen woman, her whole story will be exposed to her neighbours. Otherwise:
"Recollect[ion of] James Steerforth’s tenderness—he would have made you his serving-man’s wife, would he not?—or to feeling grateful to the upright and deserving creature who would have taken you as his gift ... marry that good man, and be happy in his condescension. If this will not do either, die! There are doorways and dust-heaps for such deaths, and such despair—find one, and take your flight to Heaven!"
David and Martha have heard this manic tirade, but David was reluctant to intervene, much as he felt impelled to, because he believed it was Dan Peggotty's right to see Emily first. At last he heard a familiar step on the stairs. Rosa Dartle issues a few vicious parting words, and she and Dan Peggotty pass on the stairs as he rushes in. On seeing her uncle, Emily cries out, and collapses in a faint. David rushes into the room to see Dan Peggotty supporting Emily, and tenderly covering Emily's face with his handkerchief, before carrying her "motionless and unconscious, down the stairs".
More months pass, and David does not hear from Martha, and fears Emily may be dead. Mr Peggotty does not hear either, but never loses his faith that Emily will eventually be recovered. He travels many miles, even to Naples, whenever he hears that she has been seen in a particular place.
Dora has met Mr Peggotty, and grown to trust him. The older David muses for a while, on the memory of their two figures in front of him, and of the old times in the boathouse. One evening Mr Peggotty tells David that Martha had been waiting for him, and had asked him not to leave London until he saw her again. He does not know why. Both speculate on this, but not a word more is said between them.
About a fortnight later, David is in the garden of his cottage when he sees Martha. She asks him to go with her, which he does immediately, and they take a coach to Golden Square (Soho, in London).
"the houses were once fair dwellings in the occupation of single families, but have, and had, long degenerated into poor lodgings let off in rooms ...
The house swarmed with inmates ... It [had] a broad panelled staircase, with massive balustrades of some dark wood; cornices above the doors, ornamented with carved fruit and flowers; and broad seats in the windows. But all these tokens of past grandeur were miserably decayed and dirty; rot, damp, and age, had weakened the flooring, which in many places was unsound and even unsafe ...
I saw, through other glassless windows, into other houses in a similar condition, and looked giddily down into a wretched yard, which was the common dust-heap of the mansion."
Climbing the staircase to the top, Martha stops in surprise, for she does not know the woman who has gone in her room. However David does: it is Rosa Dartle. Martha urges him into a side room where they may hear everything that goes on. Rosa Dartle is not alone, and there is a soft response to her haughty demand:
"At the sound of it, a thrill went through my frame. For it was Emily’s!"
David cannot see Emily, but has a good view of Miss Dartle:
"I could see her curled lip, and her cruel eyes intently fixed on one place, with a greedy triumph."
Her only desire is to gloat upon the fallen woman and "purchased slave" Emily, who in her rage she tortures her with her taunts and invectives. Emily begs for mercy, saying that she know she deserves this, but will not hear a word against her family, and stands up for their honour. However, it is of no use.

Rosa Dartle Confronts Emily - Fred Barnard
"I saw the flashing black eyes, and the passion-wasted figure; and I saw the scar, with its white track cutting through her lips, quivering and throbbing as she spoke ...
Her rage got the better of her again, for a moment; but it passed over her face like a spasm, and left her smiling."
Rosa Dartle threatens Emily, saying that unless she runs away into some obscure corner of the world where she may die, or lives openly as a fallen woman, her whole story will be exposed to her neighbours. Otherwise:
"Recollect[ion of] James Steerforth’s tenderness—he would have made you his serving-man’s wife, would he not?—or to feeling grateful to the upright and deserving creature who would have taken you as his gift ... marry that good man, and be happy in his condescension. If this will not do either, die! There are doorways and dust-heaps for such deaths, and such despair—find one, and take your flight to Heaven!"
David and Martha have heard this manic tirade, but David was reluctant to intervene, much as he felt impelled to, because he believed it was Dan Peggotty's right to see Emily first. At last he heard a familiar step on the stairs. Rosa Dartle issues a few vicious parting words, and she and Dan Peggotty pass on the stairs as he rushes in. On seeing her uncle, Emily cries out, and collapses in a faint. David rushes into the room to see Dan Peggotty supporting Emily, and tenderly covering Emily's face with his handkerchief, before carrying her "motionless and unconscious, down the stairs".
Wow what a rollercoaster of a chapter! Here the chapter title acts as a spoiler. For all David's fears, we know well that if "Mr Peggotty's Dream Comes True", this is going to be an ultimately optimistic one. But what a savage indictment of Emily's character she has to undergo first. Clearly Rosa Dartle has been driven a little mad by her jealous rage.
We have confirmation that Steerforth had attempted to marry Emily off to Littimer, and presumably it is from Littimer, the hired sneak, that the latest news of Emily has reached Rosa. (We're left to infer that.)
Throughout we want David to rush in and stop this merciless cruelty, don't we? So why doesn't he? Doesn't he care about Emily's suffering? Now that he knows she isn't dead as he had feared, why doesn't he rush in and stop this verbal abuse? Is he ... scared?
Waiting for Dan Peggotty hardly seems a good reason. It does, however, fit in with David's rather passive nature (except for the slap to Uriah's face!) He's a "wait and see" kind of person, not responding to Mrs Micawber's first letter, so she has to ask Traddles instead, leaving Agnes to the machinations of Uriah Heep, with just a word from her that she will be alright. He's neglected this one for years, and the knowledge of Mrs Micawber's distress for months, so the plea by the older David as narrator that he was "busy" does not hold up.
So, bringing these two together is a great dramatic moment for the novel, but I really think a first person narrator has difficulties here. It's perhaps a little easier to believe that David could "stay his hand" because he can't actually see Emily, but this had to be built in by careful scene-setting by Charles Dickens. Also, isn't it a massive coincidence that Rosa Dartle would had been informed by Littimer, and visit Emily on the very same evening that David would be led there by Martha? But most of all, I find it hard to credit that David would witness the torture and abuse of Emily without interfering.
Yet Dan Peggotty, by contrast, seems to grow in integrity every time we met him. As David says, he is steadfast.
I particularly like the descriptions in this chapter, from the dankness in David's garden, to the wonderful seedy, and decrepit building where Martha lives.
We have confirmation that Steerforth had attempted to marry Emily off to Littimer, and presumably it is from Littimer, the hired sneak, that the latest news of Emily has reached Rosa. (We're left to infer that.)
Throughout we want David to rush in and stop this merciless cruelty, don't we? So why doesn't he? Doesn't he care about Emily's suffering? Now that he knows she isn't dead as he had feared, why doesn't he rush in and stop this verbal abuse? Is he ... scared?
Waiting for Dan Peggotty hardly seems a good reason. It does, however, fit in with David's rather passive nature (except for the slap to Uriah's face!) He's a "wait and see" kind of person, not responding to Mrs Micawber's first letter, so she has to ask Traddles instead, leaving Agnes to the machinations of Uriah Heep, with just a word from her that she will be alright. He's neglected this one for years, and the knowledge of Mrs Micawber's distress for months, so the plea by the older David as narrator that he was "busy" does not hold up.
So, bringing these two together is a great dramatic moment for the novel, but I really think a first person narrator has difficulties here. It's perhaps a little easier to believe that David could "stay his hand" because he can't actually see Emily, but this had to be built in by careful scene-setting by Charles Dickens. Also, isn't it a massive coincidence that Rosa Dartle would had been informed by Littimer, and visit Emily on the very same evening that David would be led there by Martha? But most of all, I find it hard to credit that David would witness the torture and abuse of Emily without interfering.
Yet Dan Peggotty, by contrast, seems to grow in integrity every time we met him. As David says, he is steadfast.
I particularly like the descriptions in this chapter, from the dankness in David's garden, to the wonderful seedy, and decrepit building where Martha lives.
A little more ...
Apparently the discrepancies we can see might be because this scene was rewritten. It comes at the very end of the sixteenth installment, and we have 4 more installments yet, (including a double one) ie., 12 chapters. So I couldn't exactly agree, France-Andrée, that the novel is "approaching the ending" (although I knew what you meant) as yesterday we were only just over three quarters through a very long novel - and often printed in 2 volumes (mine is).
However by placing this scene here, Charles Dickens is indicating that in each monthly installment from now on, one particular storyline will be brought to a close. As Cindy said, his timing for bringing each set of characters back is "impeccable"!
As Charles Dickens first wrote it, a fortnight earlier, Rosa Dartle was originally in the scene, and David was accompanied by Mr. Peggotty. But as the scene now stands, Rosa leaves just as Mr. Peggotty arrives, and David (as the first-person narrator), stays hidden with Martha throughout. I'd like to have read the first draft though - what does anyone else think?
(It was published in early August, but radically re-written at the end of July.)
I also think there is an odd sort of echo here, of Jane Eyre! We mentioned before beginning this novel, that Charles Dickens had read Charlotte Brontë's novel shortly before. We are at the top of a crumbling mansion, and this scene reminds me a little of the "madwoman in the attic" (hope I do not spoil anything by using this euphemism here!) and if you think of the motivation for it in Jane Eyre, there are similarities. Also Rochester continually refers to Jane in terms of a fairy, and in this scene, Rosa (rather oddly, I thought, in the middle of her temper tantrum), calls Emily a "fairy spirit".
Apparently the discrepancies we can see might be because this scene was rewritten. It comes at the very end of the sixteenth installment, and we have 4 more installments yet, (including a double one) ie., 12 chapters. So I couldn't exactly agree, France-Andrée, that the novel is "approaching the ending" (although I knew what you meant) as yesterday we were only just over three quarters through a very long novel - and often printed in 2 volumes (mine is).
However by placing this scene here, Charles Dickens is indicating that in each monthly installment from now on, one particular storyline will be brought to a close. As Cindy said, his timing for bringing each set of characters back is "impeccable"!
As Charles Dickens first wrote it, a fortnight earlier, Rosa Dartle was originally in the scene, and David was accompanied by Mr. Peggotty. But as the scene now stands, Rosa leaves just as Mr. Peggotty arrives, and David (as the first-person narrator), stays hidden with Martha throughout. I'd like to have read the first draft though - what does anyone else think?
(It was published in early August, but radically re-written at the end of July.)
I also think there is an odd sort of echo here, of Jane Eyre! We mentioned before beginning this novel, that Charles Dickens had read Charlotte Brontë's novel shortly before. We are at the top of a crumbling mansion, and this scene reminds me a little of the "madwoman in the attic" (hope I do not spoil anything by using this euphemism here!) and if you think of the motivation for it in Jane Eyre, there are similarities. Also Rochester continually refers to Jane in terms of a fairy, and in this scene, Rosa (rather oddly, I thought, in the middle of her temper tantrum), calls Emily a "fairy spirit".


I have difficulty too with David not interrupting, is it because on some level he thinks Emily deserves what is said to her? or maybe that Miss Dartle needs to let go of her hatred? Even if those answers were the right one (and I don't think they are), I think anyone would have intervened and so I have had a little bit of difficulty with my suspension of disbelief in this chapter.

Rosa is consumed with her own constant disappointment, frustration and misery at being cast aside by Steerforth and treated as unimportant. She can barely suppress her physical instinct to strike Emily (she does swing at her but does not make contact) as she berates and threatens her. David is frozen and seems fearful of Rose's rage and dominance - and waits for Peggotty to arrive. - I think perhaps even Mr. Dick might have intervened in his calm manner if he were present. In the long view, Emily is saved upon Peggotty's arrival while Miss Dartle must return to the Steerforth home, the site of her frustrations and resentments - no refuge for her. Is there any sympathy for her? She is another character formed by her environment.

Poor Emily. After everything she has been through, she is set upon by this harpie and blamed for all of Steerforth's faults.

Emily, in the face of being so belittled and so distraught, is the honorable one here in the way she stands up for her family as Rosa criticizes them as well. Yay, Emily ... boo, Rosa! Yay, Peggotty ...boo, David!

So, I’m standing by my earlier thoughts about Steerforth legitimately being half afraid of Rosa.

According to Micheal Steig on
http://www.victorianweb.org/art/illus...
Although published in early August, this scene in the book was apparently re-written by Dickens at the end of July. In the original text Rosa Dartle was still in the room with Emily when both David and Mr. Peggotty enter the room together. As the scene now stands after Dickens' revision, Rosa has just departed, passes Mr. Peggotty on the stairway as he arrives, and David is hidden with Martha throughout. The following picture is one by Phiz who apparently didn't have much time to change his illustration before the August publication with its revision, so it does not actually show Rosa in the room but David does arrive with Mr. Peggotty. You can see David's hat on the table as he put it there when entering. There is also no sign of Martha.

Mr. Peggotty's dream comes true by Phiz (Hablot K. Browne). August 1850. Steel etching. Illustration for chapter 50, "Mr. Peggotty's Dream comes true," in Charles Dickens's David Copperfield. Source: Centenary Edition (1911), volume two.

Lori, I suspect Dickens wouldn't hesitate to have Rosa's diatribe continue if David intervened and he would now have her unleashing on both David and Emily making the scene worse - perhaps David also realized if he injected himself, matters would get out of hand, perhaps violently by Rosa. His presence would probably inflame her all the more. So, David could be very intimated or taking a cautious approach so not to make matters worse.
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I do question how reliable David is as a narrator. There are such contortions he gets into, right at the start, where Charles Dickens himself is clearly expressing his thoughts (and identical experience) through the narrator, the older David. And this is attempting to explaining the thoughts of the younger David. So we have a well-established and phenomenally popular author, (Charles Dickens), saying that he always represents himself as modest (which is clearly untrue) but inside feels no such modesty. Or is that the older David speaking? Or the younger one? And if "the more praise I got, the more I tried to deserve [it]" is true, how can any of these voices claim to have false modesty? Is it a double bluff - by someone? The permutations seem impossible to work out.
Also, not so much an unreliable narrator, but perhaps one constrained by his time. It's easy to miss that Dora had a miscarriage when the only clue is the allusion in the quotation I included about the spirit "taking wing". Perhaps the younger David cannot bear to think of it.