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For a time--at all events until my book should be completed, which wouldbe the work of several months--I took up my abode in my aunt's house atDover; and there, sitting in the window from which I had looked out atthe moon upon the sea, when that roof first gave me shelter, I quietlypursued my task.

In pursuance of my intention of referring to my own fictions only whentheir course should incidentally connect itself with the progress of mystory, I do not enter on the aspirations, the delights, anxieties, andtriumphs of my art. That I truly devoted myself to it with my strongestearnestness, and bestowed upon it every energy of my soul, I havealready said. If the books I have written be of any worth, they willsupply the rest. I shall otherwise have written to poor purpose, and therest will be of interest to no one.

Occasionally, I went to London; to lose myself in the swarm of lifethere, or to consult with Traddles on some business point. He hadmanaged for me, in my absence, with the soundest judgement; and myworldly affairs were prospering. As my notoriety began to bring uponme an enormous quantity of letters from people of whom I had noknowledge--chiefly about nothing, and extremely difficult to answer--Iagreed with Traddles to have my name painted up on his door. There, thedevoted postman on that beat delivered bushels of letters for me; andthere, at intervals, I laboured through them, like a Home Secretary ofState without the salary.

Among this correspondence, there dropped in, every now and then, anobliging proposal from one of the numerous outsiders always lurkingabout the Commons, to practise under cover of my name (if I would takethe necessary steps remaining to make a proctor of myself), and pay mea percentage on the profits. But I declined these offers; being alreadyaware that there were plenty of such covert practitioners in existence,and considering the Commons quite bad enough, without my doing anythingto make it worse.

The girls had gone home, when my name burst into bloom on Traddles'sdoor; and the sharp boy looked, all day, as if he had never heard ofSophy, shut up in a back room, glancing down from her work into a sootylittle strip of garden with a pump in it. But there I always found her,the same bright housewife; often humming her Devonshire ballads when nostrange foot was coming up the stairs, and blunting the sharp boy in hisofficial closet with melody.

I wondered, at first, why I so often found Sophy writing in a copy-book;and why she always shut it up when I appeared, and hurried it into thetable-drawer. But the secret soon came out. One day, Traddles (who hadjust come home through the drizzling sleet from Court) took a paper outof his desk, and asked me what I thought of that handwriting?

'Oh, DON'T, Tom!' cried Sophy, who was warming his slippers before thefire.

'My dear,' returned Tom, in a delighted state, 'why not? What do you sayto that writing, Copperfield?'

'It's extraordinarily legal and formal,' said I. 'I don't think I eversaw such a stiff hand.'

'Not like a lady's hand, is it?' said Traddles.

'A lady's!' I repeated. 'Bricks and mortar are more like a lady's hand!'

Traddles broke into a rapturous laugh, and informed me that it wasSophy's writing; that Sophy had vowed and declared he would need acopying-clerk soon, and she would be that clerk; that she had acquiredthis hand from a pattern; and that she could throw off--I forget howmany folios an hour. Sophy was very much confused by my being told allthis, and said that when 'Tom' was made a judge he wouldn't be so readyto proclaim it. Which 'Tom' denied; averring that he should always beequally proud of it, under all circumstances.

'What a thoroughly good and charming wife she is, my dear Traddles!'said I, when she had gone away, laughing.

'My dear Copperfield,' returned Traddles, 'she is, without anyexception, the dearest girl! The way she manages this place; herpunctuality, domestic knowledge, economy, and order; her cheerfulness,Copperfield!'

'Indeed, you have reason to commend her!' I returned. 'You are a happyfellow. I believe you make yourselves, and each other, two of thehappiest people in the world.'

'I am sure we ARE two of the happiest people,' returned Traddles. 'Iadmit that, at all events. Bless my soul, when I see her getting upby candle-light on these dark mornings, busying herself in the day'sarrangements, going out to market before the clerks come into the Inn,caring for no weather, devising the most capital little dinners out ofthe plainest materials, making puddings and pies, keeping everything inits right place, always so neat and ornamental herself, sitting upat night with me if it's ever so late, sweet-tempered and encouragingalways, and all for me, I positively sometimes can't believe it,Copperfield!'

He was tender of the very slippers she had been warming, as he put themon, and stretched his feet enjoyingly upon the fender.

'I positively sometimes can't believe it,' said Traddles. 'Then ourpleasures! Dear me, they are inexpensive, but they are quite wonderful!When we are at home here, of an evening, and shut the outer door, anddraw those curtains--which she made--where could we be more snug? Whenit's fine, and we go out for a walk in the evening, the streetsabound in enjoyment for us. We look into the glittering windows of thejewellers' shops; and I show Sophy which of the diamond-eyed serpents,coiled up on white satin rising grounds, I would give her if I couldafford it; and Sophy shows me which of the gold watches that arecapped and jewelled and engine-turned, and possessed of the horizontallever-escape-movement, and all sorts of things, she would buy for me ifshe could afford it; and we pick out the spoons and forks, fish-slices,butter-knives, and sugar-tongs, we should both prefer if we could bothafford it; and really we go away as if we had got them! Then, when westroll into the squares, and great streets, and see a house to let,sometimes we look up at it, and say, how would THAT do, if I was madea judge? And we parcel it out--such a room for us, such rooms for thegirls, and so forth; until we settle to our satisfaction that itwould do, or it wouldn't do, as the case may be. Sometimes, we go athalf-price to the pit of the theatre--the very smell of which is cheap,in my opinion, at the money--and there we thoroughly enjoy the play:which Sophy believes every word of, and so do I. In walking home,perhaps we buy a little bit of something at a cook's-shop, or a littlelobster at the fishmongers, and bring it here, and make a splendidsupper, chatting about what we have seen. Now, you know, Copperfield, ifI was Lord Chancellor, we couldn't do this!'

'You would do something, whatever you were, my dear Traddles,' thoughtI, 'that would be pleasant and amiable. And by the way,' I said aloud,'I suppose you never draw any skeletons now?'

'Really,' replied Traddles, laughing, and reddening, 'I can't whollydeny that I do, my dear Copperfield. For being in one of the back rowsof the King's Bench the other day, with a pen in my hand, the fancy cameinto my head to try how I had preserved that accomplishment. And I amafraid there's a skeleton--in a wig--on the ledge of the desk.'

After we had both laughed heartily, Traddles wound up by looking with asmile at the fire, and saying, in his forgiving way, 'Old Creakle!'

'I have a letter from that old--Rascal here,' said I. For I never wasless disposed to forgive him the way he used to batter Traddles, thanwhen I saw Traddles so ready to forgive him himself.

'From Creakle the schoolmaster?' exclaimed Traddles. 'No!'

'Among the persons who are attracted to me in my rising fame andfortune,' said I, looking over my letters, 'and who discover that theywere always much attached to me, is the self-same Creakle. He is nota schoolmaster now, Traddles. He is retired. He is a MiddlesexMagistrate.'

I thought Traddles might be surprised to hear it, but he was not so atall.

'How do you suppose he comes to be a Middlesex Magistrate?' said I.

'Oh dear me!' replied Traddles, 'it would be very difficult to answerthat question. Perhaps he voted for somebody, or lent money to somebody,or bought something of somebody, or otherwise obliged somebody, orjobbed for somebody, who knew somebody who got the lieutenant of thecounty to nominate him for the commission.'

'On the commission he is, at any rate,' said I. 'And he writes to mehere, that he will be glad to show me, in operation, the only truesystem of prison discipline; the only unchallengeable way of makingsincere and lasting converts and penitents--which, you know, is bysolitary confinement. What do you say?'

'To the system?' inquired Traddles, looking grave.

'No. To my accepting the offer, and your going with me?'

'I don't object,' said Traddles.

'Then I'll write to say so. You remember (to say nothing of ourtreatment) this same Creakle turning his son out of doors, I suppose,and the life he used to lead his wife and daughter?'

'Perfectly,' said Traddles.

'Yet, if you'll read his letter, you'll find he is the tenderest ofmen to prisoners convicted of the whole calendar of felonies,' said I;'though I can't find that his tenderness extends to any other class ofcreated beings.'

Traddles shrugged his shoulders, and was not at all surprised. I had notexpected him to be, and was not surprised myself; or my observation ofsimilar practical satires would have been but scanty. We arranged thetime of our visit, and I wrote accordingly to Mr. Creakle that evening.

On the appointed day--I think it was the next day, but nomatter--Traddles and I repaired to the prison where Mr. Creakle waspowerful. It was an immense and solid building, erected at a vastexpense. I could not help thinking, as we approached the gate, whatan uproar would have been made in the country, if any deluded man hadproposed to spend one half the money it had cost, on the erection of anindustrial school for the young, or a house of refuge for the deservingold.

In an office that might have been on the ground-floor of the Tower ofBabel, it was so massively constructed, we were presented to our oldschoolmaster; who was one of a group, composed of two or three of thebusier sort of magistrates, and some visitors they had brought. Hereceived me, like a man who had formed my mind in bygone years, andhad always loved me tenderly. On my introducing Traddles, Mr. Creakleexpressed, in like manner, but in an inferior degree, that he had alwaysbeen Traddles's guide, philosopher, and friend. Our venerable instructorwas a great deal older, and not improved in appearance. His face wasas fiery as ever; his eyes were as small, and rather deeper set. Thescanty, wet-looking grey hair, by which I remembered him, was almostgone; and the thick veins in his bald head were none the more agreeableto look at.

After some conversation among these gentlemen, from which I might havesupposed that there was nothing in the world to be legitimately takeninto account but the supreme comfort of prisoners, at any expense, andnothing on the wide earth to be done outside prison-doors, we beganour inspection. It being then just dinner-time, we went, first into thegreat kitchen, where every prisoner's dinner was in course of being setout separately (to be handed to him in his cell), with the regularityand precision of clock-work. I said aside, to Traddles, that I wonderedwhether it occurred to anybody, that there was a striking contrastbetween these plentiful repasts of choice quality, and the dinners, notto say of paupers, but of soldiers, sailors, labourers, the great bulkof the honest, working community; of whom not one man in five hundredever dined half so well. But I learned that the 'system' required highliving; and, in short, to dispose of the system, once for all, I foundthat on that head and on all others, 'the system' put an end to alldoubts, and disposed of all anomalies. Nobody appeared to have the leastidea that there was any other system, but THE system, to be considered.

As we were going through some of the magnificent passages, I inquired ofMr. Creakle and his friends what were supposed to be the main advantagesof this all-governing and universally over-riding system? I foundthem to be the perfect isolation of prisoners--so that no one man inconfinement there, knew anything about another; and the reduction ofprisoners to a wholesome state of mind, leading to sincere contritionand repentance.

Now, it struck me, when we began to visit individuals in their cells,and to traverse the passages in which those cells were, and to have themanner of the going to chapel and so forth, explained to us, that therewas a strong probability of the prisoners knowing a good deal about eachother, and of their carrying on a pretty complete system of intercourse.This, at the time I write, has been proved, I believe, to be the case;but, as it would have been flat blasphemy against the system to havehinted such a doubt then, I looked out for the penitence as diligentlyas I could.

And here again, I had great misgivings. I found as prevalent a fashionin the form of the penitence, as I had left outside in the forms of thecoats and waistcoats in the windows of the tailors' shops. I found avast amount of profession, varying very little in character: varyingvery little (which I thought exceedingly suspicious), even in words. Ifound a great many foxes, disparaging whole vineyards of inaccessiblegrapes; but I found very few foxes whom I would have trusted withinreach of a bunch. Above all, I found that the most professing men werethe greatest objects of interest; and that their conceit, their vanity,their want of excitement, and their love of deception (which manyof them possessed to an almost incredible extent, as their historiesshowed), all prompted to these professions, and were all gratified bythem.

However, I heard so repeatedly, in the course of our goings to and fro,of a certain Number Twenty Seven, who was the Favourite, and who reallyappeared to be a Model Prisoner, that I resolved to suspend my judgementuntil I should see Twenty Seven. Twenty Eight, I understood, was alsoa bright particular star; but it was his misfortune to have his glorya little dimmed by the extraordinary lustre of Twenty Seven. I heard somuch of Twenty Seven, of his pious admonitions to everybody around him,and of the beautiful letters he constantly wrote to his mother (whom heseemed to consider in a very bad way), that I became quite impatient tosee him.

I had to restrain my impatience for some time, on account of TwentySeven being reserved for a concluding effect. But, at last, we came tothe door of his cell; and Mr. Creakle, looking through a little hole init, reported to us, in a state of the greatest admiration, that he wasreading a Hymn Book.

There was such a rush of heads immediately, to see Number Twenty Sevenreading his Hymn Book, that the little hole was blocked up, six or sevenheads deep. To remedy this inconvenience, and give us an opportunity ofconversing with Twenty Seven in all his purity, Mr. Creakle directed thedoor of the cell to be unlocked, and Twenty Seven to be invited out intothe passage. This was done; and whom should Traddles and I then behold,to our amazement, in this converted Number Twenty Seven, but Uriah Heep!

He knew us directly; and said, as he came out--with the old writhe,--

'How do you do, Mr. Copperfield? How do you do, Mr. Traddles?'

This recognition caused a general admiration in the party. I ratherthought that everyone was struck by his not being proud, and takingnotice of us.

'Well, Twenty Seven,' said Mr. Creakle, mournfully admiring him. 'How doyou find yourself today?'

'I am very umble, sir!' replied Uriah Heep.

'You are always so, Twenty Seven,' said Mr. Creakle.

Here, another gentleman asked, with extreme anxiety: 'Are you quitecomfortable?'

'Yes, I thank you, sir!' said Uriah Heep, looking in that direction.'Far more comfortable here, than ever I was outside. I see my follies,now, sir. That's what makes me comfortable.'

Several gentlemen were much affected; and a third questioner, forcinghimself to the front, inquired with extreme feeling: 'How do you findthe beef?'

'Thank you, sir,' replied Uriah, glancing in the new direction of thisvoice, 'it was tougher yesterday than I could wish; but it's my duty tobear. I have committed follies, gentlemen,' said Uriah, looking roundwith a meek smile, 'and I ought to bear the consequences withoutrepining.' A murmur, partly of gratification at Twenty Seven's celestialstate of mind, and partly of indignation against the Contractor who hadgiven him any cause of complaint (a note of which was immediately madeby Mr. Creakle), having subsided, Twenty Seven stood in the midst ofus, as if he felt himself the principal object of merit in a highlymeritorious museum. That we, the neophytes, might have an excess oflight shining upon us all at once, orders were given to let out TwentyEight.

I had been so much astonished already, that I only felt a kind ofresigned wonder when Mr. Littimer walked forth, reading a good book!

'Twenty Eight,' said a gentleman in spectacles, who had not yet spoken,'you complained last week, my good fellow, of the cocoa. How has it beensince?'

'I thank you, sir,' said Mr. Littimer, 'it has been better made. If Imight take the liberty of saying so, sir, I don't think the milk whichis boiled with it is quite genuine; but I am aware, sir, that there isa great adulteration of milk, in London, and that the article in a purestate is difficult to be obtained.'

It appeared to me that the gentleman in spectacles backed his TwentyEight against Mr. Creakle's Twenty Seven, for each of them took his ownman in hand.

'What is your state of mind, Twenty Eight?' said the questioner inspectacles.

'I thank you, sir,' returned Mr. Littimer; 'I see my follies now, sir.I am a good deal troubled when I think of the sins of my formercompanions, sir; but I trust they may find forgiveness.'

'You are quite happy yourself?' said the questioner, noddingencouragement.

'I am much obliged to you, sir,' returned Mr. Littimer. 'Perfectly so.'

'Is there anything at all on your mind now?' said the questioner. 'Ifso, mention it, Twenty Eight.'

'Sir,' said Mr. Littimer, without looking up, 'if my eyes have notdeceived me, there is a gentleman present who was acquainted with mein my former life. It may be profitable to that gentleman to know, sir,that I attribute my past follies, entirely to having lived a thoughtlesslife in the service of young men; and to having allowed myself to be ledby them into weaknesses, which I had not the strength to resist. I hopethat gentleman will take warning, sir, and will not be offended at myfreedom. It is for his good. I am conscious of my own past follies. Ihope he may repent of all the wickedness and sin to which he has been aparty.'

I observed that several gentlemen were shading their eyes, each with onehand, as if they had just come into church.

'This does you credit, Twenty Eight,' returned the questioner. 'I shouldhave expected it of you. Is there anything else?'

'Sir,' returned Mr. Littimer, slightly lifting up his eyebrows, but nothis eyes, 'there was a young woman who fell into dissolute courses, thatI endeavoured to save, sir, but could not rescue. I beg that gentleman,if he has it in his power, to inform that young woman from me thatI forgive her her bad conduct towards myself, and that I call her torepentance--if he will be so good.'

'I have no doubt, Twenty Eight,' returned the questioner, 'that thegentleman you refer to feels very strongly--as we all must--what youhave so properly said. We will not detain you.'

'I thank you, sir,' said Mr. Littimer. 'Gentlemen, I wish you a goodday, and hoping you and your families will also see your wickedness, andamend!'

With this, Number Twenty Eight retired, after a glance between him andUriah; as if they were not altogether unknown to each other, throughsome medium of communication; and a murmur went round the group, as hisdoor shut upon him, that he was a most respectable man, and a beautifulcase.

'Now, Twenty Seven,' said Mr. Creakle, entering on a clear stage withhis man, 'is there anything that anyone can do for you? If so, mentionit.'

'I would umbly ask, sir,' returned Uriah, with a jerk of his malevolenthead, 'for leave to write again to mother.'

'It shall certainly be granted,' said Mr. Creakle.

'Thank you, sir! I am anxious about mother. I am afraid she ain't safe.'

Somebody incautiously asked, what from? But there was a scandalizedwhisper of 'Hush!'

'Immortally safe, sir,' returned Uriah, writhing in the direction ofthe voice. 'I should wish mother to be got into my state. I never shouldhave been got into my present state if I hadn't come here. I wish motherhad come here. It would be better for everybody, if they got took up,and was brought here.'

This sentiment gave unbounded satisfaction--greater satisfaction, Ithink, than anything that had passed yet.

'Before I come here,' said Uriah, stealing a look at us, as if he wouldhave blighted the outer world to which we belonged, if he could, 'I wasgiven to follies; but now I am sensible of my follies. There's a dealof sin outside. There's a deal of sin in mother. There's nothing but sineverywhere--except here.'

'You are quite changed?' said Mr. Creakle.

'Oh dear, yes, sir!' cried this hopeful penitent.

'You wouldn't relapse, if you were going out?' asked somebody else.

'Oh de-ar no, sir!'

'Well!' said Mr. Creakle, 'this is very gratifying. You have addressedMr. Copperfield, Twenty Seven. Do you wish to say anything further tohim?'

'You knew me, a long time before I came here and was changed, Mr.Copperfield,' said Uriah, looking at me; and a more villainous lookI never saw, even on his visage. 'You knew me when, in spite of myfollies, I was umble among them that was proud, and meek among them thatwas violent--you was violent to me yourself, Mr. Copperfield. Once, youstruck me a blow in the face, you know.'

General commiseration. Several indignant glances directed at me.

'But I forgive you, Mr. Copperfield,' said Uriah, making his forgivingnature the subject of a most impious and awful parallel, which I shallnot record. 'I forgive everybody. It would ill become me to bear malice.I freely forgive you, and I hope you'll curb your passions in future. Ihope Mr. W. will repent, and Miss W., and all of that sinful lot. You'vebeen visited with affliction, and I hope it may do you good; but you'dbetter have come here. Mr. W. had better have come here, and Miss W.too. The best wish I could give you, Mr. Copperfield, and give all ofyou gentlemen, is, that you could be took up and brought here. When Ithink of my past follies, and my present state, I am sure it would bebest for you. I pity all who ain't brought here!'

He sneaked back into his cell, amidst a little chorus of approbation;and both Traddles and I experienced a great relief when he was lockedin.

It was a characteristic feature in this repentance, that I was fain toask what these two men had done, to be there at all. That appeared to bethe last thing about which they had anything to say. I addressedmyself to one of the two warders, who, I suspected from certain latentindications in their faces, knew pretty well what all this stir wasworth.

'Do you know,' said I, as we walked along the passage, 'what felony wasNumber Twenty Seven's last "folly"?'

The answer was that it was a Bank case.

'A fraud on the Bank of England?' I asked. 'Yes, sir. Fraud, forgery,and conspiracy. He and some others. He set the others on. It was a deepplot for a large sum. Sentence, transportation for life. Twenty Sevenwas the knowingest bird of the lot, and had very nearly kept himselfsafe; but not quite. The Bank was just able to put salt upon histail--and only just.'

'Do you know Twenty Eight's offence?'

'Twenty Eight,' returned my informant, speaking throughout in a lowtone, and looking over his shoulder as we walked along the passage, toguard himself from being overheard, in such an unlawful referenceto these Immaculates, by Creakle and the rest; 'Twenty Eight (alsotransportation) got a place, and robbed a young master of a matter oftwo hundred and fifty pounds in money and valuables, the night beforethey were going abroad. I particularly recollect his case, from hisbeing took by a dwarf.'

'A what?'

'A little woman. I have forgot her name?'

'Not Mowcher?'

'That's it! He had eluded pursuit, and was going to America in a flaxenwig, and whiskers, and such a complete disguise as never you see in allyour born days; when the little woman, being in Southampton, methim walking along the street--picked him out with her sharp eye in amoment--ran betwixt his legs to upset him--and held on to him like grimDeath.'

'Excellent Miss Mowcher!' cried I.

'You'd have said so, if you had seen her, standing on a chair in thewitness-box at the trial, as I did,' said my friend. 'He cut her faceright open, and pounded her in the most brutal manner, when she tookhim; but she never loosed her hold till he was locked up. She held sotight to him, in fact, that the officers were obliged to take 'emboth together. She gave her evidence in the gamest way, and was highlycomplimented by the Bench, and cheered right home to her lodgings. Shesaid in Court that she'd have took him single-handed (on account of whatshe knew concerning him), if he had been Samson. And it's my belief shewould!'

It was mine too, and I highly respected Miss Mowcher for it.

We had now seen all there was to see. It would have been in vain torepresent to such a man as the Worshipful Mr. Creakle, that Twenty Sevenand Twenty Eight were perfectly consistent and unchanged; that exactlywhat they were then, they had always been; that the hypocritical knaveswere just the subjects to make that sort of profession in such a place;that they knew its market-value at least as well as we did, in theimmediate service it would do them when they were expatriated; ina word, that it was a rotten, hollow, painfully suggestive piece ofbusiness altogether. We left them to their system and themselves, andwent home wondering.

'Perhaps it's a good thing, Traddles,' said I, 'to have an unsound Hobbyridden hard; for it's the sooner ridden to death.'

'I hope so,' replied Traddles.