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Updated: June 9, 2025
I can myself see scarce a strained discordant note in the account of the short life and early death of Paul Dombey, and none in the description of the death of Paul Dombey's mother, or in the story of Tiny Tim, or in the record of David Copperfield's childhood and boyhood. Did space allow, I could support my position by quotations and example to any extent.
Perhaps Dickens avoided this episode because it was too literally near the truth in the life of the person who, all unconsciously, stood as the lay figure of David Copperfield's incomparable friend. It is, I believe, not generally known that Charles Dickens's father did in his last desolate days become a member of the Press.
"She is my ideal woman," returned Dan; "true and strong and tender; clear as crystal, pure as dawn. Like her!" He knocked the ashes from his pipe. "We do not marry our ideals," he went on. "We love with our hearts, not with our souls. The woman I shall marry" he sat gazing into the fire, a smile upon his face "she will be some sweet, clinging, childish woman, David Copperfield's Dora.
'And who's this shaver? said one of the gentlemen, taking hold of me. 'That's Davy, returned Mr. Murdstone. 'Davy who? said the gentleman. 'Jones? 'Copperfield, said Mr. Murdstone. 'What! Bewitching Mrs. Copperfield's encumbrance? cried the gentleman. 'The pretty little widow? 'Quinion, said Mr. Murdstone, 'take care, if you please. Somebody's sharp.
The latter lived over their shops or warehouses, and the former only aspired to a dull house in Bloomsbury, or, like David Copperfield's father-in-law, Mr. Spenlow, a villa at Norwood, or perhaps a country residence at Hampstead or Highgate.
It was sweet to hear Henry's honest bark at spaghetti and fish-salads, bay deep-mouthed welcome to Sam Weller's "'am and weal pie," and even Pickwick's "chops and tomato sauce," and David Copperfield's toasted muffins, as we drew near the chalk cliffs of England.
Instead of sighing, like Falstaff, "Oh for a fine young thief, of the age of two and twenty or thereabouts!" the hero sighs for a fine young idiot of similar age. When the hero is successful in his search and wooing, the novelist sometimes mercifully removes the young woman early, like David Copperfield's Dora, she bequeathing the bereaved husband, on her deathbed, to a woman of sense.
So it was no wonder that the young man felt more at home in this inn in old London than he had ever felt in an American caravansary. The shabby waiter who had served him at dinner appeared to him to be a true representation of the serving-man who had eaten most of David Copperfield's chops, and drained the little boy's half pint of port when he went up to school.
"Now I feel like David Copperfield's landlady, 'at last I have summat I can love! Oh, the mistakes that you WON'T make, Jo!" she apostrophized the baby. "The smart, capable, self-sufficient way that you'll manage everything!" "Do you really want me to take the boys away for a few days?" asked Billy, who was kneeling down for a better view of mother and child.
Micawber at David Copperfield's supper party, into the adjoining bedroom and sit by myself in the cold, I made the best of the somewhat dense clouds of smoke with which I was soon surrounded, and listened to the fragmentary plans for the next day.
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