DC, Chp. 41-43

[Tristram]

Dear Fellow Curiosities,

we are not exactly near the end of the novel yet but still one can say we are approaching its final chapters – alas! –, and Dickens is still introducing new characters as well as keeping up suspense by giving no real cues as to how the different lines of action are going to be brought to an end. This week I was absolutely fascinated and riveted when reading Chapter 42 but before we are going to rush into that roller coaster ride let us first have a look at Chapter 41, which is entitled “Dora’s Aunts” – because those two ladies, Miss Lavinia and Miss Clarissa, are making their first appearance in the novel.

David has followed Agnes’s advice and sent a formal letter to Dora’s aunts in which he asked for their permission for him to come and see Dora as her suitor, and he now receives an invitation to present himself with a friend to give him mental support. He chooses Traddles as his companion, and he feels himself in need of a supporter since his former confidante, Miss Mills, has left England (and perhaps the story altogether) when her father decided to go to India. In this context, David once more shows the typical egocentrism of the lover – the naïve lover, I should say – when he complains:

”It was a great augmentation of my uneasiness to be bereaved, at this eventful crisis, of the inestimable services of Miss Mills. But Mr. Mills, who was always doing something or other to annoy me—or I felt as if he were, which was the same thing—had brought his conduct to a climax, by taking it into his head that he would go to India. Why should he go to India, except to harass me? To be sure he had nothing to do with any other part of the world, and had a good deal to do with that part; being entirely in the India trade, whatever that was (I had floating dreams myself concerning golden shawls and elephants' teeth); having been at Calcutta in his youth; and designing now to go out there again, in the capacity of resident partner. But this was nothing to me. However, it was so much to him that for India he was bound, and Julia with him; and Julia went into the country to take leave of her relations; and the house was put into a perfect suit of bills, announcing that it was to be let or sold, and that the furniture (Mangle and all) was to be taken at a valuation. So, here was another earthquake of which I became the sport, before I had recovered from the shock of its predecessor!”

It is supposed to be humorous but nevertheless it comes over as terribly puerile and wimpy to me. In fact there were a lot of things that annoyed me as a reader in that chapter. For instance, just consider the passage in which the narrator describes how his younger self and Traddles travelled to Putney: What do you think of David’s behaviour towards Traddles here? Especially when he goes on about Traddles’s peculiar hairstyle …

It is also interesting to see what Traddles says about how his intended, Sophy Crewler, is exploited by the family – to such a degree that they would not even have fancied that Sophy might want to get married and to lead a life of her own:

”’You see, Sophy being of so much use in the family, none of them could endure the thought of her ever being married. Indeed, they had quite settled among themselves that she never was to be married, and they called her the old maid.’”
”’There will be a deplorable scene, whenever we are married. It will be much more like a funeral, than a wedding. And they'll all hate me for taking her away!'”

Seems to me that we can increase our list of dysfunctional families featuring in David Copperfield. Of course, Dickens probably intends us to regard the Crewlers as exploitative, but at the same time – does he not, once again, draw the ideal of the self-sacrificing woman here which we can also find in Ruth Pinch and Little Nell? Apart from that, Sophy’s position in her family might not have been such an exceptional one at that time, for all we know. Maybe, lots of families in those days regarded one of their daughters as responsible for the rest of the family if the mother couldn’t do it all? My wife tells me that in Argentina, for instance, it was often taken for granted in the old days that the youngest daughter would remain single and devote her later years to looking after her parents in their old age.

David’s interview with Miss Clarissa and Miss Lavinia, who are no less eccentric than Aunt Betsey, eventually takes a promising course, not only because the two bird-like – Peter, did you notice? Of course you did! – ladies have had some disagreement with their late brother – a point that seems to obsess Miss Clarissa – but because Miss Lavinia seems to be an elder version of Miss Mills (there was one mildly melancholy episode about one Mr. Pidger, whom the two sisters always regarded as a putative suitor of Miss Lavinia’s), and the two sisters apparently take some proxy delight in furthering a romance between their niece and a young man who must have made a good impression on them. The two ladies grant David the permission to come and visit them and Dora on a regular basis in order to find out whether his feelings for Dora are able to stand the test of time, and they also show a keen interest in getting to know Aunt Betsey – an idea that fills David with apprehension at first but he soon finds that Aunt Betsey tries to tone down her eccentricities in order not to fall out with the Misses Spenlow.

At the end of his first visit, David is also granted an interview with Dora, whose behaviour – Peter, by the way, you can add a new name for David to your ever-growing list, which I am not going to render into print – is just sickening to me. Just think of her rudeness towards Traddles! However, David also seems to have some misgivings as to Dora’s maturity:

”One thing troubled me much, after we had fallen into this quiet train. It was, that Dora seemed by one consent to be regarded like a pretty toy or plaything. My aunt, with whom she gradually became familiar, always called her Little Blossom; and the pleasure of Miss Lavinia's life was to wait upon her, curl her hair, make ornaments for her, and treat her like a pet child. What Miss Lavinia did, her sister did as a matter of course. It was very odd to me; but they all seemed to treat Dora, in her degree, much as Dora treated Jip in his.”

When he mildly points out to her that she is not a child, she reacts in a way that makes it impossible to lead a sensible discussion, and so David, stricken with Dora’s charming outward appearance, gives it up and changes the subject. This does not bode too well for their married life considering that there is also Agnes, with whom David can talk about almost everything. All the while, his endeavours to prepare her for her role as his wife – by Victorian standards – avail to nothing:

”But the cookery-book made Dora’s head ache, and the figures made her cry.”

… and David comes to this unpromising conclusion:

”Consequently, the principal use to which the cookery-book was devoted, was being put down in the corner for Jip to stand upon. But Dora was so pleased, when she had trained him to stand upon it without offering to come off, and at the same time to hold the pencil-case in his mouth, that I was very glad I had bought it.
And we fell back on the guitar-case, and the flower-painting, and the songs about never leaving off dancing, Ta ra la! and were as happy as the week was long. I occasionally wished I could venture to hint to Miss Lavinia, that she treated the darling of my heart a little too much like a plaything; and I sometimes awoke, as it were, wondering to find that I had fallen into the general fault, and treated her like a plaything too—but not often.”

Dear me!

[Tristram]

And now for Chapter 42, the promised roller coaster ride! The title already looks very promising: “Mischief”!

The narrator starts this chapter by giving some details about the key to his success in life, and here I think it is easy to see the narrator and the author blend into one, which is why I include this rather lengthy quotation as we might want to discuss it in more detail.

”I feel as if it were not for me to record, even though this manuscript is intended for no eyes but mine, how hard I worked at that tremendous short-hand, and all improvement appertaining to it, in my sense of responsibility to Dora and her aunts. I will only add, to what I have already written of my perseverance at this time of my life, and of a patient and continuous energy which then began to be matured within me, and which I know to be the strong part of my character, if it have any strength at all, that there, on looking back, I find the source of my success. I have been very fortunate in worldly matters; many men have worked much harder, and not succeeded half so well; but I never could have done what I have done, without the habits of punctuality, order, and diligence, without the determination to concentrate myself on one object at a time, no matter how quickly its successor should come upon its heels, which I then formed. Heaven knows I write this, in no spirit of self-laudation. The man who reviews his own life, as I do mine, in going on here, from page to page, had need to have been a good man indeed, if he would be spared the sharp consciousness of many talents neglected, many opportunities wasted, many erratic and perverted feelings constantly at war within his breast, and defeating him. I do not hold one natural gift, I dare say, that I have not abused. My meaning simply is, that whatever I have tried to do in life, I have tried with all my heart to do well; that whatever I have devoted myself to, I have devoted myself to completely; that in great aims and in small, I have always been thoroughly in earnest. I have never believed it possible that any natural or improved ability can claim immunity from the companionship of the steady, plain, hard-working qualities, and hope to gain its end. There is no such thing as such fulfilment on this earth. Some happy talent, and some fortunate opportunity, may form the two sides of the ladder on which some men mount, but the rounds of that ladder must be made of stuff to stand wear and tear; and there is no substitute for thorough-going, ardent, and sincere earnestness. Never to put one hand to anything, on which I could throw my whole self; and never to affect depreciation of my work, whatever it was; I find, now, to have been my golden rules.”

As the title “Mischief” seems to imply, we are again given the pleasure of seeing Uriah Heep writhe and undulate his lank body: This time he accompanies Agnes and Mr. Wickfield on their visit to the Strongs, and David soon realizes that Uriah’s sharp eyes have also noticed that the relationship between Annie Strong and her cousin is fishy. What is more, Uriah does not hide before David his hard feelings towards Annie and Maldon nor his awareness of his newly-gained position of power:

”'He never could come into the office, without ordering and shoving me about,' said Uriah. 'One of your fine gentlemen he was! I was very meek and umble—and I am. But I didn't like that sort of thing—and I don't!'”
”'She is one of your lovely women, she is,' he pursued, when he had slowly restored his face to its natural form; 'and ready to be no friend to such as me, I know. She's just the person as would put my Agnes up to higher sort of game. Now, I ain't one of your lady's men, Master Copperfield; but I've had eyes in my ed, a pretty long time back. We umble ones have got eyes, mostly speaking—and we look out of 'em.'”
”'Now, I'm not a-going to let myself be run down, Copperfield,' he continued, raising that part of his countenance, where his red eyebrows would have been if he had had any, with malignant triumph, 'and I shall do what I can to put a stop to this friendship. I don't approve of it. I don't mind acknowledging to you that I've got rather a grudging disposition, and want to keep off all intruders. I ain't a-going, if I know it, to run the risk of being plotted against.'”

By the way, he also displays a grim sense of humour:

”'Why, though I am a lawyer, Master Copperfield,' he replied, with a dry grin, 'I mean, just at present, what I say.'”

David realizes that Uriah, both for the sake of revenge but also in order to destroy the friendship between Agnes and Annie, is going to inform the Doctor about his suspicions as to Maldon and Annie – and there is nothing David can do about it. Indeed, he even manages, with one of his lawyer’s wiles, to implicate David for his own course of action.

However, David is not particularly active on that score, either, and instead, he introduces Agnes to Dora, who soon become the best of friends. Later that night, David not only witnesses Uriah telling Dr. Strong what is going on behind his back but he also forces Mr. Wickfield and David himself to corroborate his insinuations. Dr. Strong’s reaction, however, does not completely meet Uriah’s expectations in that the old man does not even think of casting his wife out but instead he shows understanding for her affections – with a view to the great difference in age between himself and her – and asserts his convictions that Annie has never betrayed him in any of her actions. By the way, what do you think of the motives Dr. Strong mentions for having married Annie? Apparently Dr. Strong regards himself more as her protector than as her husband. Can this tell us anything about Dickens’s own penchant for younger women?

At the end of the interview, David openly falls out with Uriah since he understands that his enemy has repeatedly let him in on his plans in order to torment him, and he even forgets himself so much as to smack Uriah’s gob. Uriah apparently has no ill-will against David but professes his readiness to forgive him, although his words, “So you know what you’ve got to expect” seem like a threat. At least, David has hit him so hard that on the next day Uriah has to go to see a dentist and have a tooth pulled out.

There is some more mischief in this chapter: In one of her rare serious moments, Dora seems to have misgivings as to David’s love because she seems to consider herself inferior to Agnes.

Last not least David receives a letter from Mrs. Micawber in which she complains that her husband, who is still working for Uriah and who, finally, has been inspired with a zeal for his new profession, is becoming more and more secretive, distrustful and mean. What might that be supposed to forebode?

[Tristram]

Let us finally briefly have a look at Chapter 43, „Another Retrospect“, which is yet another example of Dickens’s masterful way of telling a story. There is hardly anything else than the wedding ceremony of David and Dora described here, but how delightfully Dickens does this. He manages to mention most of the people with whom David has struck up a friendship, and the result is that the readers can nearly feel as if they were themselves present at their wedding. I enjoyed reading this chapter a lot!

The narrator also gives information on a change in his personal circumstances when he says that he not only has mastered shorthand and started reporting on parliamentary debates – just look at the tongue-in-cheek criticism of politicians here:

”I have tamed that savage stenographic mystery. I make a respectable income by it. I am in high repute for my accomplishment in all pertaining to the art, and am joined with eleven others in reporting the debates in Parliament for a Morning Newspaper. Night after night, I record predictions that never come to pass, professions that are never fulfilled, explanations that are only meant to mystify. I wallow in words. Britannia, that unfortunate female, is always before me, like a trussed fowl: skewered through and through with office-pens, and bound hand and foot with red tape. I am sufficiently behind the scenes to know the worth of political life. I am quite an Infidel about it, and shall never be converted.”

Apart from that, David has also started writing fiction and begun to make his mark in that profession. This comes as a surprise, I think, because David’s starting to write stories appears rather unmotivated by anything that has gone on before – except maybe his role as a storyteller in Creakle’s school.

I also came across this little passage, which reminded me of the story that Dickens – when he was a child – used to walk past his later home Gad’s Hill with his father, who used to say that one day maybe Dickens would own that place if he worked hard:

”We have removed, from Buckingham Street, to a pleasant little cottage very near the one I looked at, when my enthusiasm first came on.”

Maybe Dickens was thinking of this episode in his own life?

What I did not like so much was David’s rather condescending attitude towards his good friend Traddles and Sophy, when he says:

”Sophy arrives at the house of Dora's aunts, in due course. She has the most agreeable of faces,—not absolutely beautiful, but extraordinarily pleasant,—and is one of the most genial, unaffected, frank, engaging creatures I have ever seen. Traddles presents her to us with great pride; and rubs his hands for ten minutes by the clock, with every individual hair upon his head standing on tiptoe, when I congratulate him in a corner on his choice.”

[[deleted user]]

I like David better than I did around the time he ran away to his aunt. I still think he is way too condescending though.

Also, I have been obsessed with youtube videos about Victorain history some time ago. So when I read the following quote:

with the flowers on the carpets looking as if freshly gathered, and the green leaves on the paper as if they had just come out;

My first thought was about how those Victorian wallpapers were painted green with arsenic - so David would have had fashionably poisonous wallpapers too probably.

I still do not think he and Dora will be truly happy together. And I hold my heart (I just start doubting, is that a saying in English too?) about Agnes being so near Uriah and his mother all the time. Because while David can be a bit annoying in his condescension, he clearly means well. Uriah on the other hand is simply mean. Yes, we were told about what made him like that, but he still is mean, and he gives me the shivers. A bad childhood might contribute to someone's choices, but it is no excuse to be a selfish, jealous prick with pointy elbows.

[Peter]

Tristram wrote: "Dear Fellow Curiosities,

we are not exactly near the end of the novel yet but still one can say we are approaching its final chapters – alas! –, and Dickens is still introducing new characters as ..."

Tristram

Ah, birds and nicknames. “Doady?” Rhymes with toady I imagine. Run David, run. Sadly, I fear David is ensnared by his own foolishness. This is just a guess but this novel must have more nicknames in it than any other. Surely, more nicknames for a single character.

As for birds, bird-like characters and bird cages there is wealth of them. A great novel indeed. :-)

[Julie]

Peter wrote: "Ah, birds and nicknames. “Doady?” Rhymes with toady I imagine."

Ouch! But too true.

[Julie]

Tristram wrote: "This week I was absolutely fascinated and riveted when reading Chapter 42"

Yes!!! I thought this chapter was so, so good!

The way the Doctor responds to the accusations about Annie makes me love him. Here I've been grumbling about how you have Annie and Em'ly both promised to these nice men (Dr. Strong and Ham) whom they don't love and should not be in a position where they have to marry them. And the story finally gets this!--at least in Annie's case.

And ok, Dr. Strong makes a mistake when he marries Annie without noticing she doesn't care for him. But at this point I am willing to absolve him because first, her mother pushed her into the marriage so how was he to know she didn't want to pursue it, especially because he's a little clueless and also modesty is stressed so hard in Victorian women that if she's not entirely forthcoming, that's not a no. And because secondly, when it's pointed out that he may have made a mistake, he understands immediately that it was wrong to put her into a position where she felt obligated to marry him.

And he's so honest!

I am a man quite unaccustomed to observe; and I cannot but believe that the observation of several people, of different ages and positions, all too plainly tending in one direction (and that so natural), is better than mine.

He knows he's a bit clueless! He acknowledges his flaws and the trouble they can get him into! He has enough humility to accept it when others point out he may have failed.

Plus, he really loves Annie: you can tell he really loves her because he believes strongly enough in her goodness that he won't entertain the possibility that she's done him wrong--and then he makes the self-sacrificing gesture of getting himself out of her way.

I think by doing this, he's going to give her the space she needs to come around to loving him romantically after all. She already admires him.

And I love the way Mr. Dick is playing go-between.

If I love this chapter because it gives me the Doctor to love, I also love it because it gives me more Heep to hate. I mean, he was hateful already, but he hits new lows here in striking at the Doctor and forcing everyone else to help him. And also, he's so TERRIBLE with David, and so brilliantly manipulative in such a stupid obstinate way: "there can’t be a quarrel without two parties, and I won’t be one. I will be a friend to you, in spite of you." Ugh! But David's really just putty in his hands. He can hit Heep, but he can't seem to break off their relationship (interesting that hitting Heep does seem to get David promoted from Master Copperfield to just plain Copperfield, however).

Also, what a description here: "His eyes, as he looked at me, seemed to take every shade of colour that could make eyes ugly."

This was such a good chapter!

[Bobbie]

I agree and it is such a sad chapter for Dr. Strong. And his reaction to Uriah's insinuations is so loyal to his wife and and to the blame on to himself. It is also so sad how he does begin to separate himself from Annie leaving her very unsure of what is happening with their relationship. I am sure we are all so anxious for Uriah to get his just desserts. I hope that will not take too long.

[Julie]

Bobbie wrote: "I agree and it is such a sad chapter for Dr. Strong. And his reaction to Uriah's insinuations is so loyal to his wife and and to the blame on to himself. It is also so sad how he does begin to sepa..."

I like the intro to the chapter too, the part Tristram quoted where David is sorting out his own character and how he works.

[Bobbie]

Yes, I did like that as well. Gives an insight into Dickens at that age.

[Ulysse]

Julie wrote: "Tristram wrote: "This week I was absolutely fascinated and riveted when reading Chapter 42"

Yes!!! I thought this chapter was so, so good!

The way the Doctor responds to the accusations about An..."

I must say, that slap on the face sure was satisfying. The way it was described too: how the outline of David's hand on Heep's face first goes white, then a brighter red than the face itself. That was a nice touch (if you'll pardon the pun). Only Dickens could observe a detail like that.

[Ulysse]

I enjoyed the wedding scene as well. Unlike Tristram, though, I did not feel the narrator's condescension when describing Traddles rubbing his hands for 10 minutes with his hair standing on end. I thought it rather moving. Besides, the unruly nature of Traddle's hair has become firmly established by now.

Did anybody notice the pregnant silence following Dora's question at the end of chapter 43?

'Are you happy now, you foolish boy?' says Dora, 'and sure you don't repent?'

The narrator does not give us David's reply. Ouch.

[Ulysse]

Tristram wrote: "And now for Chapter 42, the promised roller coaster ride! The title already looks very promising: “Mischief”!

The narrator starts this chapter by giving some details about the key to his success i..."

What does the narrator mean when he writes at the beginning of chapter 42: 'this manuscript is intended for no eyes but mine'? Is all of David Copperfield supposed to be a diary of sorts? And is the narrator trying to establish for himself alone whether or not he is the hero of his own life? Sounds like quite an elaborate way of going about it.

[Peter]

Tristram wrote: "And now for Chapter 42, the promised roller coaster ride! The title already looks very promising: “Mischief”!

The narrator starts this chapter by giving some details about the key to his success i..."

Tristram

You raise a good point about the age difference in marriage. I think we could expand the concept to look at any young, innocent, seemingly vulnerable female. Dickens sees a need for their protection or they will be corrupted in some way. I’m thinking of such characters as Florence Dombey, Kate Nickleby and, of course, Little Nell. In this novel we seem to have an even larger group of young females. Just consider some names ... Little Nell, Little Em’ly and Little Dorrit.

A pattern perhaps?

[Peter]

Ulysse wrote: "Tristram wrote: "And now for Chapter 42, the promised roller coaster ride! The title already looks very promising: “Mischief”!

The narrator starts this chapter by giving some details about the key..."

Hi Ulysse

An excellent question. When Dickens writes “intended for no eyes but mine” it is not an ambiguous statement is it? The first sentences of the first chapter, however, clearly state that the story the author is going to tell is meant to be very public The author invites his story to be judged by the public. Am I a hero or not is not an invitation to the readers to keep their opinions to themselves. It is the opening for some animated discussion.

It’s rather curious I’d say what the intention is.

[Tristram]

Jantine wrote: "My first thought was about how those Victorian wallpapers were painted green with arsenic - so David would have had fashionably poisonous wallpapers too probably."

I did not know that, Jantine, but I hope that as long as you did not lick the wallpapers, which would be a recourse in extreme bouts of boredom, but otherwise unusual behaviour, you must be pretty safe with poisonous wallpapers. Unlike the leaden waterpipes in older times or the indiscriminate use of opium the Victorians were prone to, or our own infatuation with asbestos in the 70s. Dear me!

[Tristram]

Peter wrote: "Tristram wrote: "Dear Fellow Curiosities,

we are not exactly near the end of the novel yet but still one can say we are approaching its final chapters – alas! –, and Dickens is still introducing n..."

To be quite honest, while I deplore David's pure choice of Heart's Desire, I must say that when I was his age I was also given to adore women of whom, in my heart of hearts, I knew I would never be too happy with. I especially remember one femme fatale who threw me into such despair that I even fell to reading Nietzsche ;-) I won't tell you more, though, may you press me however much ...

[Tristram]

Ulysse wrote: "Julie wrote: "Tristram wrote: "This week I was absolutely fascinated and riveted when reading Chapter 42"

Yes!!! I thought this chapter was so, so good!

The way the Doctor responds to the accusa..."

In a way, the mark of the slap (although it won't be permanent) reminds me of the mark Rosa Dartle got from Steerforth. Nevertheless, I'd say that Rosa is not by half as mean and scheming as Uriah although both of them surely have shifty and manipulative ways.

It is quite interesting that Annie is still blissfully ignorant of what is happening behind her back. On the other hand, this is also a sign of the fact that Doctor Strong's protectiveness has the effect of treating Annie not like a person who could make her own decisions but more like some thing that is to be taken care of. Even in his nobility the doctor keeps making the same mistake.

[Tristram]

Ulysse wrote: "I enjoyed the wedding scene as well. Unlike Tristram, though, I did not feel the narrator's condescension when describing Traddles rubbing his hands for 10 minutes with his hair standing on end. I ..."

David's silence after Dora's question is a good point. Is he already slowly waking up?

[Tristram]

Ulysse wrote: "Tristram wrote: "And now for Chapter 42, the promised roller coaster ride! The title already looks very promising: “Mischief”!

The narrator starts this chapter by giving some details about the key..."

I was asking myself exactly the same question: Why is David taking so many pains writing a full-blown manuscript when nobody is supposed to read it but himself? Indirectly, we may see Dickens at work here, who is putting some of his most intimate confessions into a novel, thereby opening himself without letting the reading public know how serious some of the things narrated were to Dickens himself.

[Tristram]

Peter wrote: "A pattern perhaps?"

Maybe, this is the price Dickens and his readers were supposed to pay for the author's cringeworthy tendency to put a certain idealization of womanhood on a pedestal?

[Julie]

Tristram wrote: "David's silence after Dora's question is a good point. Is he already slowly waking up?"

Well that would be extremely unfortunate timing.

[Julie]

Tristram wrote: "It is quite interesting that Annie is still blissfully ignorant of what is happening behind her back. On the other hand, this is also a sign of the fact that Doctor Strong's protectiveness has the effect of treating Annie not like a person who could make her own decisions but more like some thing that is to be taken care of. Even in his nobility the doctor keeps making the same mistake."

Yes, and this seems so incredibly true and human to me. It's so difficult for people to change themselves.

Ini Dr. Strong's defense, though, he may feel he can't offer Annie any other options because now that she's married to him all doors are closed. Divorce is not an attractive option given the times.

But he could at least apologize so she'll know why he's withdrawing, or has the option of telling him he doesn't need to withdraw. He could keep her in the know as a partner, not a pet.

[Kim]

Tristram wrote: "Peter wrote: " I won't tell you more, though, may you press me however much ...

Oh come on, won't you at least tell me? I'm dying to know now. :-)

[Kim]

Jantine wrote: "My first thought was about how those Victorian wallpapers were painted green with arsenic - so David would have had fashionably poisonous wallpapers too probably."

I knew nothing about wallpaper, well other than it is paper and you put it on your walls, but thanks to Jantine mentioning it and me not being able to resist, now I do:

In the 19th century paper began to be made in continuous rolls first by Louis Robert in France in 1798 and then in England by Fourdrinier who patented a machine that could make paper to any length in 1807. It was not until the Excise Office lifted its ban on the use of continuous paper for printing wallpaper in 1830 that this invention could start to be properly exploited.

In 1839 Harold Potter, the owner of a wallpaper mill in Lancashire patented a 4 color roller printing machine for wallpaper that could print 400 rolls per day. This machine was inspired by copper rollers used in the textile industry for printing chintz but for wallpaper printing it used a raised rather than an engraved pattern. Oil based inks were invented to work with this that would flow smoothly onto the rollers and coat the paper evenly. These early copper rollers were relatively small and so could not print large patterns so these new processes heavily influenced pattern design with most papers having small scale designs. On more expensive papers a larger hand block design was sometimes overprinted onto the small pattern.

Aniline dyes were discovered in 1856 increasing the choice and lowering the price of wallpaper colors. Arsenic and white lead were used in many Victorian papers as dyes which lead to widespread health issues for many workers in the industry, so that by the 1870s many firms were advertising their papers as being arsenic-free. As a consequence of these innovations, wallpaper production and use increased enormously as the price fell steadily throughout the 19th Century.

[Kim]

Ulysse wrote: "Is all of David Copperfield supposed to be a diary of sorts? "

I wondered the same thing. I have kept a diary for years, it gives me a hint of what happened on a certain day. If I had to be as exact as David is I'd lose my mind. A few weeks ago my husband and I froze our corn for the year. Before he went to buy it he asked me how many dozen he bought last year and how many quarts we got from it. I got last year's diary and saw this long description of that day:

Friday, August 23, 2019

We froze our corn today, we started around 3:00 and finished around 10:00. We had 20 dozen and got 25 quarts.

That's it for the day. I was amused to find this a few days later:

Wednesday, September 11, 2019

I know why sometimes I skip days between writing here, it's because nothing has happened to be written down. This is one of them.

I am no David Copperfield.

[Kim]

Traddles and I in conference with the Misses Spenlow

Chapter 41

Phiz

Commentary:

In the first illustration in the fourteenth monthly number, which was issued in June 1850 and comprises chapters 41 through 43, Phiz telegraphs how the marriage negotiations superintended by Tommy Traddles will end by providing numerous background clues in the book titles and the captions for embedded pictures. As Michael Steig has noted:

At times the use of such details may seem crude and obvious, as when David Copperfield's suit to Dora via her aunts in "Traddles and I, conference with the Misses Spenlow," is commented on by a trio of pictures captioned "The Momentous Question," "The Last Appeal," and "Arcadia," as well as the books Paradise Regained and The Loves of Angels, and the figurine of a girl picking the petals off a flower. It could be argued, I suppose, that the very obviousness of these details has a comic effect appropriate to David's passion for silly little Dora; but the same illustration contains two more details of greater significance: in a cage, two lovebirds sit apart while in small bowl one goldfish seems to pursue the other. If these pairs of creatures represent David and Dora, the fact that they are fulfilling their loves in small, enclosed containers from which there is no escape is a subtle and easily overlooked comment on the realities of the new status in life to which David so enthusiastically aspires. [Steig]

According to J. A. Hammerton (1910), the moment that Phiz has satirically realized in the courtship plot is this:

Both Miss Clarissa and Miss Lavinia leaned a little forward to speak, and became upright again when silent

In fact, the scene set in the maiden aunts' drawing-room in their bungalow at Putney encompasses almost a complete page of text, beginning:

"Mr. Copperfield!" said the sister with the letter.

I did something — bowed, I suppose — and was all attention, when the other sister struck in.

"My sister Lavinia," said she, "being conversant with matters of this nature, will state what we consider most calculated to promote the happiness of both parties."

I discovered afterwards that Miss Lavinia was an authority in affairs of the heart, by reason of there having anciently existed a certain Mr. Pidger, who played short whist, and was supposed to have been enamoured of her. My private opinion is, that this was entirely a gratuitous assumption, and that Pidger was altogether innocent of any such sentiments—to which he had never given any sort of expression that I could ever hear of. Both Miss Lavinia and Miss Clarissa had a superstition, however, that he would have declared his passion, if he had not been cut short in his youth (at about sixty) by over-drinking his constitution, and over-doing an attempt to set it right again by swilling Bath water. They had a lurking suspicion even, that he died of secret love; though I must say there was a picture of him in the house with a damask nose, which concealment did not appear to have ever preyed upon.

‘We will not,’ said Miss Lavinia, ‘enter on the past history of this matter. Our poor brother Francis’s death has cancelled that.’

‘We had not,’ said Miss Clarissa, ‘been in the habit of frequent association with our brother Francis; but there was no decided division or disunion between us. Francis took his road; we took ours. We considered it conducive to the happiness of all parties that it should be so. And it was so.’

Each of the sisters leaned a little forward to speak, shook her head after speaking, and became upright again when silent. Miss Clarissa never moved her arms. She sometimes played tunes upon them with her fingers—minuets and marches I should think—but never moved them.

Thus, the sister holding the letter, sharing the central position of the illustration, must be the younger of the two, Lavinia. Tommy Traddles, like Seth Pecksniff in Phiz's illustrations for Martin Chuzzlewit (1843-44), is readily identifiable by his rebellious hair; he has the same tonsure, clothing, and round, jovial visage seen in "Traddles makes a figure in parliament and I report him" in the May 1850 number. David Copperfield, too, is immediately recognizable by his awkward posture and lack of composure, his emotions suggested by a sort of halo of seven lines radiating from his head. Although this is Phiz's only representation of Dora's aunts, they, too, are immediately recognizable as the sisters of Dora's father as represented by Phiz in "I fall into Captivity" from the January 1850 number, the long neck and nose of Miss Lavinia echoing precisely those of Mr. Spenlow and thereby realizing Dickens's description of Dora's guardians being "two dry little elderly ladies, dressed in black [i. e., full mourning], and each looking wonderfully like a preparation in chip or tan of the late Mr. Spenlow". Steig has noted the series of emblems in the picture that represent the humourously amorous relationship of David and Dora, whose unseen presence is suggested by the statue on the piano, and the instrument itself immediately behind David:

a piano is also present which in view of the rest of the series may represent Dora's eternal singing of "enchanted ballads ... generally to the effect that, whatever was the matter, we ought always to dance, Ta ra la, Ta ra la!

The symbol of caged birds once again presents Phiz's comment upon the immaturity of the story's irrational "love birds," David and Dora; however, in this particular plate Phiz provides a parallel symbol, the pair of goldfish in the bowl situated between Traddles and the younger Miss Spenlow suggestive of the enclosed, insulated environment in which Dora has been raised; to marriage and the real world beyond her father's estate she will react like a fish out of water. Dickens compares the Spenlow sisters to birds, "having a sharp, brisk, sudden manner, and a little short, spruce way of adjusting themselves, like canaries". Thus, the caged birds immediately behind the elder Miss Spenlow may, in fact, represent the sisters' secluded existence at Putney, self- exiled from their brother, his wife, and their daughter Dora, by their jealousy of Mrs. Spenlow.

Phiz's editorial additions here are not entirely consistent with Dickens's text, since the novelist mentions "an old-fashioned clock ticking away on the chimney-piece" instead of a piano, and the young men's sitting "on a sofa" rather than chairs. However, in terms of composition, small chairs are preferable since they emphasize the figures, who occupy the stage symmetrically; the exception, of course, is the substantial chair occupied by Miss Lavinia, who queen-like receives the young men's petition. This first June illustration in its satirical visual touches is in sharp contrast to the last scene, "The Wanderer", whose embedded visual symbols — the shipping poster and map of the hemispheres — point to the larger world beyond the public-room at the inn which is representative of the masculine sphere. Phiz pokes fun at the cloying, enclosed domestic space, suggested by the cage and fishbowl, and typified by the maiden aunts' emphasis on furnishings, possessions, paintings, and bric a brac:

even the titles of the pictures on their walls — 'The Last Appeal' [above the piano], 'The Momentous Question' [above Miss Clarissa], and 'Arcadia' [above the double doorway, and perhaps implying what David hopes to enjoy with Dora, the sort of unreal existence posited in Christopher Marlowe's pastoral idyll "The Passionate Shepherd to His Love"] — comment on the nature of [David's] errand, and books — [beside Traddles] Loves of the Angels and Paradise Regained — anticipate his success. [Cohen 104]

The book entitled "Music" is intended to represent Dora, closeted somewhere nearby with his obstreperous dog.

[Kim]

[Kim]

"I wonder why you ever fell in love with me?" said Dora, beginning on another button of my coat."

Chapter 42

Fred Barnard

1872 Household Edition

Text Illustrated:

We made merry about Dora’s wanting to be liked, and Dora said I was a goose, and she didn’t like me at any rate, and the short evening flew away on gossamer-wings. The time was at hand when the coach was to call for us. I was standing alone before the fire, when Dora came stealing softly in, to give me that usual precious little kiss before I went.

‘Don’t you think, if I had had her for a friend a long time ago, Doady,’ said Dora, her bright eyes shining very brightly, and her little right hand idly busying itself with one of the buttons of my coat, ‘I might have been more clever perhaps?’

‘My love!’ said I, ‘what nonsense!’

‘Do you think it is nonsense?’ returned Dora, without looking at me. ‘Are you sure it is?’

‘Of course I am!’ ‘I have forgotten,’ said Dora, still turning the button round and round, ‘what relation Agnes is to you, you dear bad boy.’

‘No blood-relation,’ I replied; ‘but we were brought up together, like brother and sister.’

‘I wonder why you ever fell in love with me?’ said Dora, beginning on another button of my coat.

‘Perhaps because I couldn’t see you, and not love you, Dora!’

‘Suppose you had never seen me at all,’ said Dora, going to another button.

‘Suppose we had never been born!’ said I, gaily.

I wondered what she was thinking about, as I glanced in admiring silence at the little soft hand travelling up the row of buttons on my coat, and at the clustering hair that lay against my breast, and at the lashes of her downcast eyes, slightly rising as they followed her idle fingers. At length her eyes were lifted up to mine, and she stood on tiptoe to give me, more thoughtfully than usual, that precious little kiss—once, twice, three times—and went out of the room.

[Kim]

"He caught the hand in his, and we stood in that connection, looking at each other."

Chapter 42

Fred Barnard

Text Illustrated:

‘Well, Master Copperfield!’ said Uriah, meekly turning to me. ‘The thing hasn’t took quite the turn that might have been expected, for the old Scholar—what an excellent man!—is as blind as a brickbat; but this family’s out of the cart, I think!’

I needed but the sound of his voice to be so madly enraged as I never was before, and never have been since.

‘You villain,’ said I, ‘what do you mean by entrapping me into your schemes? How dare you appeal to me just now, you false rascal, as if we had been in discussion together?’

As we stood, front to front, I saw so plainly, in the stealthy exultation of his face, what I already so plainly knew; I mean that he forced his confidence upon me, expressly to make me miserable, and had set a deliberate trap for me in this very matter; that I couldn’t bear it. The whole of his lank cheek was invitingly before me, and I struck it with my open hand with that force that my fingers tingled as if I had burnt them.

He caught the hand in his, and we stood in that connexion, looking at each other. We stood so, a long time; long enough for me to see the white marks of my fingers die out of the deep red of his cheek, and leave it a deeper red.

‘Copperfield,’ he said at length, in a breathless voice, ‘have you taken leave of your senses?’

‘I have taken leave of you,’ said I, wresting my hand away. ‘You dog, I’ll know no more of you.’

‘Won’t you?’ said he, constrained by the pain of his cheek to put his hand there. ‘Perhaps you won’t be able to help it. Isn’t this ungrateful of you, now?’

‘I have shown you often enough,’ said I, ‘that I despise you. I have shown you now, more plainly, that I do. Why should I dread your doing your worst to all about you? What else do you ever do?’

He perfectly understood this allusion to the considerations that had hitherto restrained me in my communications with him. I rather think that neither the blow, nor the allusion, would have escaped me, but for the assurance I had had from Agnes that night. It is no matter.

[Kim]

Dora and Miss Mills

Chapter 43

Sol Eytinge Jr.

1867 Diamond Edition

Commentary:

The thirteenth illustration — "Dora and Miss Mills" — describes the relationship between the spoiled child of a socially prominent "proctor" in Doctors' Commons and her older friend and confident, Julia Mills. With her guitar and Jip sitting on the table, his "pagoda" on the floor in the foreground, the illustration cannot actually refer to David's clandestine meeting at Julia Mills' home in Chapter 37, "A Little Cold Water" (in which David reveals that his inheritance has evaporated), since David and Dora do not purchase the "Chinese house for Jip, with little bells on the top" until Chapter 43, "Another Retrospect." Since, however, Julia boards an East-Indiaman and sails from Gravesend in the previous chapter, the scene as Eytinge has composed it, including the two articles that epitomize Dora's cheerful impracticality (the guitar and pagoda), is an utter impossibility. Thus, Eytinge obviously did not feel bound to be literally truthful to the text he was illustrating.

Eytinge's version of Dora departs somewhat from the dark-haired, demure beauty of Phiz's in "I Fall into Captivity" and "Our Housekeeping", the guitar and a rather different pagoda appearing in Phiz's "My child-wife's old companion", in which Dora has becoming a presiding spirit via the medium of an oil portrait on the wall above the recently-widowed David.

[Kim]

I am married

Chapter 43

Phiz

Commentary:

In the second illustration in the fourteenth monthly number, which was issued in June 1850 and comprises chapters 41 through 43, Phiz bases the composition on the design of the first illustration in the serial publication, "Our pew at church", once again satirising the complacent Anglicanism of mid-nineteenth century Britain, suggested by the cobweb on the eighteenth-century statue and indifferent minister. As in the earlier picaresque novel Martin Chuzzlewit (1843-44), the entrapment of a fly in the web suggests victimization. The text illustrated is this:

My aunt sits with my hand in hers all the way. When we stop a little way short of the church, to put down Peggotty, whom we have brought on the box, she gives it a squeeze, and me a kiss.

‘God bless you, Trot! My own boy never could be dearer. I think of poor dear Baby this morning.’ ‘So do I. And of all I owe to you, dear aunt.’

‘Tut, child!’ says my aunt; and gives her hand in overflowing cordiality to Traddles, who then gives his to Mr. Dick, who then gives his to me, who then gives mine to Traddles, and then we come to the church door.

The church is calm enough, I am sure; but it might be a steam-power loom in full action, for any sedative effect it has on me. I am too far gone for that.

The rest is all a more or less incoherent dream.

A dream of their coming in with Dora; of the pew-opener arranging us, like a drill-sergeant, before the altar rails; of my wondering, even then, why pew-openers must always be the most disagreeable females procurable, and whether there is any religious dread of a disastrous infection of good-humour which renders it indispensable to set those vessels of vinegar upon the road to Heaven.

Of the clergyman and clerk appearing; of a few boatmen and some other people strolling in; of an ancient mariner behind me, strongly flavouring the church with rum; of the service beginning in a deep voice, and our all being very attentive.

Of Miss Lavinia, who acts as a semi-auxiliary bridesmaid, being the first to cry, and of her doing homage (as I take it) to the memory of Pidger, in sobs; of Miss Clarissa applying a smelling-bottle; of Agnes taking care of Dora; of my aunt endeavouring to represent herself as a model of sternness, with tears rolling down her face; of little Dora trembling very much, and making her responses in faint whispers.

Of our kneeling down together, side by side; of Dora’s trembling less and less, but always clasping Agnes by the hand; of the service being got through, quietly and gravely; of our all looking at each other in an April state of smiles and tears, when it is over; of my young wife being hysterical in the vestry, and crying for her poor papa, her dear papa.

Of her soon cheering up again, and our signing the register all round. Of my going into the gallery for Peggotty to bring her to sign it; of Peggotty’s hugging me in a corner, and telling me she saw my own dear mother married; of its being over, and our going away.

Of my walking so proudly and lovingly down the aisle with my sweet wife upon my arm, through a mist of half-seen people, pulpits, monuments, pews, fonts, organs, and church windows, in which there flutter faint airs of association with my childish church at home, so long ago. Of my walking so proudly and lovingly down the aisle with my sweet wife upon my arm, through a mist of half-seen people, pulpits, monuments, pews, fonts, organs, and church-windows, in which there flutter faint airs of association with my childish church at home, so long ago.

How, Phiz must have wondered, can a graphic artist communicate this sense of the onrush of objects described in the historic present in a loose series of periodic sentences each beginning with "Of"? The similarity to the first plate in the narrative-pictorial series, "Our pew at church", is obvious in the general layout of the church, including the central pillar (to the left of centre in both cases), the staircase, the cherubs, monuments, and — curiously — the elderly pew-openers situated down front left in both plates, the one in the earlier illustration, having let Mr. Murdstone into his pew, being fast asleep. Of the general layout of the church nave and its pews in this illustration Guiliano and Collins note: "Hablot Browne's 'I am Married' illustration — including, in the foreground, the pew opener with her keys — fails to show the pews, but the novel's first illustration, 'Our Pew at Church', shows the doors". Here, the pew-opener has control of her keys and is wide awake, enjoying the spectacle afforded by the young couple and the wedding party. Indeed, the whole atmosphere of the present plate is energized by the youth of the two principals and the more active nature of the much more youthful congregation.

One of the curious features of Phiz's composition is the prominence he accords to Mr. Dick (on Dora's right, down centre); the second is the relative obscurity of David's Aunt Betsey (glimpsed just behind Mr. Dick) and of his best friend, Tommy Traddles, just behind Dora and immediately recognizable by his rebellious hair. Moreover, despite their importance in Dickens's text, Phiz has placed Dora's aunts, Lavinia and Clarissa, at the foot of the staircase, up centre. Finally, since in the text David ascenbds to the gallery expressly to bring Peggotty down, her position in the balcony as the wedding party reaches the porch is also problematic since logically she should be downstairs, and probably close to David. That Phiz has left her upstairs in the gallery suggests that he is using her to complement the earlier part of Dickens's description of the wedding, and therefore she exists as a realisation of the moment before the one upon which Phiz has chosen to focus. In other words, the action- and character-crammed illustration encompasses the entire description of David and Dora's wedding. Thus, Phiz has retained Peggotty in the gallery as appropriate to his intention to graph visually a full page of text; likewise, because their presence would realize Dickens's humorous literary allusion but would disrupt the atmosphere of youthful exuberance and ideallism, he entirely dispenses with the supernumerary boatmen and the rum-soaked "ancient mariner", who does not interject his own personal narrative into the proceedings as Coleridge's does in the 1798 literary ballad.

Phiz's young women all too often resemble one another, so that Agnes and Dora here, and Martha in "The Wanderer" could be members of the same family. Thematically, the exterior similarities between the childish, incompetent Dora and the dutiful, mature Agnes are significant in that their narratives are complementary, the astute reader would find the position of Agnes in the illustration problematic since the text indicates that she supports Dora throughout the marriage service; Agnes should, therefore, be stationed immediately behind the bride as the wedding party advances down the aisle. Instead, Phiz has placed her at David's left, and has drawn her in full, rather than merely head and shoulders as he has done Betsey Trotwood.

[Kim]

[Peter]

Kim wrote: "Ulysse wrote: "Is all of David Copperfield supposed to be a diary of sorts? "

I wondered the same thing. I have kept a diary for years, it gives me a hint of what happened on a certain day. If I h..."

Oh Kim, what a delightful anecdote. If/when I ever visit you, however, please, no corn for me. Corn and my stomach are not friends. :-)

[Kim]

Here is David and Dora's wedding from the 1911 silent movie:

[Kim]

Peter wrote: "Kim wrote: "Ulysse wrote: "Is all of David Copperfield supposed to be a diary of sorts? "

I wondered the same thing. I have kept a diary for years, it gives me a hint of what happened on a certain..."

I had a friend at one time that used to say she was allergic to corn. She wouldn't touch it and I'd have to check everything to see if corn syrup was in it. I found from this that corn syrup and high fructose corn syrup are for some reason two different things, but I've never looked up why. Anyway, I asked her once what happened if she ate it what happened and she said she would get a migraine. A migraine? I've had a migraine since I was 11 most of the time, and if I didn't have a migraine I had a headache left over from a migraine. I must have eaten a lot of corn.

[Peter]

Kim wrote: "

"I wonder why you ever fell in love with me?" said Dora, beginning on another button of my coat."

Chapter 42

Fred Barnard

1872 Household Edition

Text Illustrated:

We made merry about Dora’s ..."

Great selection of illustrations Kim. Dora asks a David in her innocent, naive, and silly manner why he loved her. While I find Dora far too sweet for my taste, it is the question I would ask David as well.

David, why do you love Dora. :-)

[Peter]

Kim wrote: "

I am married

Chapter 43

Phiz

Commentary:

In the second illustration in the fourteenth monthly number, which was issued in June 1850 and comprises chapters 41 through 43, Phiz bases the compos..."

As the commentary notes in this very busy illustration as well as the other prominent church scene in this novel which is found in chapter two (Our Pew at Church) there is much going on, perhaps too much to see clearly. I take a deep breath and say that the colourized version supplied by Kim does help sort out and clarify what is what and who is who.

I am at glad that David and Dora are seen in the centre front of the illustration. This is the moment in time when they are first married and thus before the long slow fraying of their childish love and marriage begins.

[Tristram]

Kim wrote: "Tristram wrote: "Peter wrote: " I won't tell you more, though, may you press me however much ...

Oh come on, won't you at least tell me? I'm dying to know now. :-)"

No way. As Mr. Guppy says, there are strings to the human heart that had better not be vibrated. :-)

[Tristram]

Kim wrote: "Jantine wrote: "My first thought was about how those Victorian wallpapers were painted green with arsenic - so David would have had fashionably poisonous wallpapers too probably."

I knew nothing a..."

Thanks for the information. Reading a Dickens novel with friends really expands your knowledge!

[Tristram]

Kim wrote: "Ulysse wrote: "Is all of David Copperfield supposed to be a diary of sorts? "

I wondered the same thing. I have kept a diary for years, it gives me a hint of what happened on a certain day. If I h..."

What the heck is freezing corn?

By the way, do you know what King Louis XVI. wrote into his diary on the day of the Storming of the Bastille? He really did write, "Nothing."

[Ulysse]

Tristram wrote: "Kim wrote: "Ulysse wrote: "Is all of David Copperfield supposed to be a diary of sorts? "

I wondered the same thing. I have kept a diary for years, it gives me a hint of what happened on a certain..."

Well, for the French Monarchy it was the beginning of "nothing".

[Kim]

Tristram wrote: "By the way, do you know what King Louis XVI. wrote into his diary on the day of the Storming of the Bastille? He really did write, "Nothing.."

Sounds like someone I would have liked.

[Kim]

Freezing corn, that's always what we called it, I didn't realize some people may not know what it was. We freeze our corn the opposite of how my parents did. They would take ears of corn, put them in boiling water for a few minutes, let them cool, then cut all the corn from the cobs, put it in containers and freeze it. That is what we would have to eat when we wanted corn that year. They canned red beets, peas, and green beans, but corn was frozen. We cut the corn from the cob first, then I put four quarts of corn in a pot with two cups of water, 3/4 cup of sugar and 1 tablespoon of salt. I boil this for five minutes, cool it, and then put it into containers and freeze it. This year we got 40 1 quart containers and that will probably last us to next year when we do it all over again. We haven't needed to buy corn for years, but it is a lot of work and takes most of the day to do it. We don't do all the other vegetables that my parents did though except applesauce. We just made our applesauce last week. I don't know why those are the two foods we still make ourselves, but it is.

[Kim]

This isn't quite the way we do it, but you get the idea:

[Kim]

I couldn't find a picture of anyone cooking the corn, and we use containers not bags, but you get the idea. It also may give you an idea of how long all this takes.

[Tristram]

Ulysse wrote: "Tristram wrote: "Kim wrote: "Ulysse wrote: "Is all of David Copperfield supposed to be a diary of sorts? "

I wondered the same thing. I have kept a diary for years, it gives me a hint of what happ..."

Touché ;-)

[Tristram]

Kim wrote: "I couldn't find a picture of anyone cooking the corn, and we use containers not bags, but you get the idea. It also may give you an idea of how long all this takes."

Interesting. I have never seen anything like that before and can't imagine that anyone in Germany does this. But then, corn is not so very, very popular in Germany, although they grow a lot of it here, but mostly for animals or to turn it into fuel in some way that eludes me. Your reference to freezing corn really a-maized me ;-)

[Peter]

Tristram wrote: "Kim wrote: "I couldn't find a picture of anyone cooking the corn, and we use containers not bags, but you get the idea. It also may give you an idea of how long all this takes."

Interesting. I hav..."

Tristram

“a-maized” touché. :-)

[Julie]

Tristram wrote: "Kim wrote: "I couldn't find a picture of anyone cooking the corn, and we use containers not bags, but you get the idea. It also may give you an idea of how long all this takes."

Interesting. I hav..."

My grandparents used to do this!

Then again, my grandfather ate corn cut off the cob even when he didn't freeze it, because he had no teeth. I expect that is not a concern for you.