Chapter 53 Chapter Forty-Nine I Fall Into the Clouds

One morning I received a letter from Canterbury to the Doctor's College.I read with some surprise: my dear sir: I have been away from my dear friend for some time, because things did not go my way.Whenever I am free from work, I miss the past and think about the old friendship, and I feel extremely happy.In fact, my dear sir, you are distinguished by your talents, and how dare I call my friend of my youth by Copperfield again!But that title will always be cherished and revered, along with the papers of my debts and mortgages, which Mrs. Micawber has kept in relation to our old tenants, and I dare do so in my honor. ensure.

Now the writer of the letter was in peril, a sinking ship, due to a combination of fault and bad luck.I cannot, therefore, extend my congratulations here, but leave them to those of a more virtuous character.If you can really read this letter to this point, sir, you must want to know what is the purpose of me writing this letter?Of course you have a reason to ask this question, and I must declare: I am not interested in money. It doesn't matter whether I have the ability to direct the thunder and release the anger, but I want to tell my husband here: I have no hope-no peace-no joy-my heart is no longer Back in my seat—and I can no longer strut my head before people.The fragrance of flowers and insects are poisonous, and the wine in a glass is full of bitterness.The insect poison is in full bloom, and the flowers will die forever.The sooner the better, I don't want to say more.

I was very distressed, and Mrs. Micawber, who was a heterowife and mother, was powerless to comfort me.I want to take a short-term escape and revisit the old place of pleasure in the capital within 48 hours.As for the place where I take refuge and nourish my heart, the Supreme Court Detention House is the place I must go.At 7:00 p.m. sharp the day after tomorrow, I shall, by God's will, be outside the south wall of the civil detention facility.Writing here is exactly the purpose of my letter has been achieved. If my old friend Mr. Copperfield, or my old friend Mr. Thomas Traddles of the Inner Court, could condescend to visit me, and renew my old friendship, it would be my life's wish.But I don't dare to ask for my wish.I have to admit that at the time and place mentioned above, you can see the remnants of the fallen tower

Wilkin Micawber P.S. I should explain: Mrs. Micawber is not yet aware of my plans. I read that letter several times.Although I know that Mr. Micawber's writing style has always been flashy, and he is very fond of writing long letters at all possible or impossible opportunities, I still believe that there is something important hidden under the hesitation of this letter.I put the letter down, thought about it, picked it up and read it again.I was still wondering and confused when Traddles came. "My dear friend," said I, "I have never been so glad to see you. You have come to my aid at the most opportune time. I have received a very nice letter from Mr. Micawber." Strange letter, Traddles."

"Really?" cried Traddles. "Is there such a thing? I have a letter from Mrs. Micawber!" said Traddles, and exchanged the letter with me.He was flushed from the walk, and his hair stood on end as if he had seen a living ghost from the combination of motion and excitement.After studying Mr. Micawber's letter, he raised his eyebrows and said to me: "'Command the thunder and let the anger go!' My God, Copperfield!"--I also raised my eyebrows to look at Micawber seriously. Letter from Mrs. The letter looks like this: Warmest regards to Mr. Thomas Traddles.If you remember anyone you have been fortunate enough to know, you may accept my plea and take the time to read this letter?I assure Mr. T. T. that I would never have ventured to interfere, unless I was in a state of perplexity.

-------- ① T·T is the abbreviation of Thomas Traddles. It is heartbreaking to say that Mr. Micawber, who was once very family-friendly, is now very estranged from his wife and family, which is why I am writing to Mr. Traddles for help.Mr. Micawber's behavior was very different from what he had been before, and he was more brutal than Mr. Traddles could have imagined.The change was getting worse and worse, and he was showing signs of insanity.Mr. Traddles may take my word for it—his attacks were almost daily.I'm used to hearing Mr. Micawber say he's been sold to the devil.He no longer trusts people that way but is suspicious and treacherous.Having said that, you can imagine what it was like.If you accidentally offend him, even the slightest thing (like asking him what he wants for dinner) can make him fussy and clamor for a divorce.Last night, when the twins asked for twopence to buy a local candy called "Lemon Treasure", he raised an oyster knife at him.

Forgive me, Mr. Traddles, for telling you about such trifles, but otherwise, how would Mr. T. know how much I am hurting? May I take the liberty of asking Mr. T to understand the purpose of my letter? Am I allowed to ask Mr. T for help?I am someone who understands Mr. T's heart. Women are sharp-eyed because of their special feelings and are not easy to be deceived.Mr. Micawber is going to London.Before breakfast this morning, he secretly wrote the address on a small piece of paper and hung it on an old brown bag.Although he tried his best to cover it up, I, who never forgot the love between husband and wife, still saw the last few words.This time, he wanted the carriage to be sent to Golden Cross Street.May I take the liberty of asking Mr. T to visit my husband there and give him reasonable advice?May I take the liberty of asking Mr. T to reconcile Mr. Micawber with his distressed family?Say no if I'm asking too much!

If Mr. Copperfield can still remember us unknown people, may Mr. T. send him my regards and repeat my same plea?Remember, please, that this letter is to be kept strictly confidential, and must never be mentioned to Mr. Micawber.I dare not have this extravagant hope, but if Meng Shihui is willing to reply to me, please send it to the Canterbury post office and hand it over to E·M.This will cause much less unfortunate consequences than the name of the recipient. Emma Micawber "What do you think of that letter?" asked Traddles, looking at me after I had read it twice. "What do you think of that one?" I asked, as I saw he was still reading with a frown.

"The two letters, taken together, I think," said Traddles, "have more meaning than what the Micawbers usually write in their letters—but I don't know what. Both letters Sincerely, I believe, without collusion. Poor man!" he meant Mrs. Micawber's letter.So we stood side by side comparing the two letters; "Anyhow, it will do her good to write to her, and tell her we must see Mr. Micawber." I greatly agree with this opinion, because at this point I feel remorse--I have given her previous letter so little attention.Her previous letter made me think a lot when I received it, as I said before.However, at that time, I had too many things of my own, coupled with the experience of getting along with that family and not hearing more news, I gradually put this matter aside.I used to think often of the Micawbers, too, but mainly of what kind of money debts they had incurred at Canterbury, and recalling how embarrassing it was for Mr. Micawber to see me when he became Uriah Heep's clerk.

At any rate, I wrote a letter of consolation to Mrs. Micawber in our own names and signed by both of us.Traddles and I had a long discussion, and speculations, as we walked into town to post the letter, which I shall not repeat here.We also invited my aunt to our discussion that afternoon; our only conclusion, however, was that we must be on time for Mr. Micawber's appointment. We arrived a quarter of an hour earlier than agreed, and Mr. Micawber was there.He stood facing the wall with his arms folded, looking sadly at the big iron nails on the wall, as if they were tree branches that he used as a hiding place when he was young.

When we greeted him, he was more embarrassed and less gentlemanly than before.For the trip, instead of the lawyer's black suit, he wore his old tight coat and leggings, but not much of the old style remained.As we talked to him, he gradually returned to normal; but his spectacles seemed less comfortable hanging there, and his stiff collar, though still as high as ever, was hanging down a little limply. "Gentlemen," said Mr. Micawber after chatting for a while, "you are friends in need and true friends. Please allow me to ask Mrs. Copperfield and Mrs. Copperfield now and in the future. Mrs. Traddles (that is to say, my friend Mr. Traddles does not appear to have been united with his beloved) in good health." We thanked him for his kindness, and we also gave a suitable answer.Then, pointing to the wall, he began, "Trust me, gentlemen," and I objected to the polite address, and asked him to talk to us as he used to. "My dear Copperfield," he answered, shaking my hand, "your sincerity conquers me. To what was once called the sanctuary of man--if I may say so myself--gives this A courtesy that speaks of a heart that honors our common nature. I say, I see again the quiet place where I spent the happiest days of my life." "I believe it is because of Mrs. Micawber," said I, "that I wish her well?" "Thank you," Mr. Micawber's face darkened at my words. "She's all right. Well," said Mr. Micawber, nodding sadly, "this is the prison! Here, for the first time in many years, Once you don’t hear the loud urging of debts, here, there will be no creditors knocking on the door, and there is no need to deal with lawsuits here, and the notice of continued imprisonment can only be thrown in from the door! Two,” Micawber said. Mr. said, "When the stone floor of the playground reflected the shadow of the iron nails on the wall, I once saw my children dodge the shadow and pass through the criss-cross shadow. I am familiar with every stone there. .If I appear weak, you must know to forgive me." "We've all changed since then, Mr. Micawber," said I. "Mr. Copperfield," said Mr. Micawber sadly, "when I lived in the Asylum I could have looked my fellows squarely in the face, and if he had offended me I could have struck him on the head. Now, I There is no longer such an honorable relationship with my kind." Mr. Micawber, turning his back sadly to the prison wall, took the arm I extended to him, and the arm Traddles extended to him on the other side, and we walked away together. "On the journey to the grave," recalled Mr. Micawber wistfully, "there are milestones; which a man would never cross if he were not in the right mind. That prison was, in all the troubles of my life, that kind of." "Oh, you are not in very good spirits, Mr. Micawber," said Traddles. "Yes, sir," said Mr. Micawber. "I hope," said Traddles, "that it's not your abhorrence of the law—for I'm a lawyer myself, you know." Mr. Micawber made no answer. "How is my friend Heep, Mr. Micawber?" said I, after a silence. "My dear Copperfield," said Mr. Micawber, suddenly becoming tense and pale, "I am sorry if you greet my employer as your friend; Greet as my friend, and I laugh at it. In whatever capacity you greet my employer, I beg your pardon, my answer will only be—whatever his health may be, his cunning appearance, not to mention Vicious and vicious. Permit me, in my humbleness, to decline to speak of a subject that has driven me to such an end in my profession." I apologize for inadvertently touching on the subject that excited him so much. "I can," said I, "avoid the mistakes of the past. Will I ask my old friends, Mr. and Miss Wickfield?" "Miss Wickfield has been a model," said Mr. Micawber, turning red now, "she is the embodiment of light. My dear Copperfield, she was the only brilliance in that miserable life." Starlight. From my respect for the young lady, and my admiration of her character, and my devotion to her because of her kindness, faithfulness, and kindness—” said Mr. Micawber, “take me to a secluded place, Because, honestly, in this state of mind, I can't stand this!" We helped him into a very narrow alley, and he took out a small handkerchief and stood with his back to the wall.If I had looked at him as closely as Traddles had, he would not have welcomed our company. "This is my destiny," sobbed Mr. Micawber undisguisedly—but even while he sobbed with some of his old good manners—"this is my destiny, gentlemen, our natures The better part of my affections is my punishment. The homage to Miss Wickfield is the arrow in my breast. Please leave me to wander. The vermin will come and finish me with redoubled speed. " We did not obey his request but stayed with him all the time.Later, he put away his small handkerchief, pulled up his stiff collar, and in order not to attract the attention of passers-by, he put his hat on one side and hummed a ditty.At this point, always apprehensive about his accident, I suggested that if he would take the car to Highgate, I should be very glad to introduce him to my aunt, and he could spend the night there. "You can make us a shot of that punch which you have always been good at making, Mr. Micawber," said I, "and forget your thoughts in the more pleasant recollections." "Gentlemen," replied Mr. Micawber, "I can do what you please! I am a blade of grass on the sea, to be blown about by elephants--forgive me, I should say weather. " We walked arm in arm again, and found that we just caught up with the carriage that was about to leave.We made our way safely to Highgate.I was restless and apprehensive, not knowing what to say or do--and apparently Traddles was the same.Mr. Micawber was largely brooding.He also occasionally tried to cheer himself up by humming a little tune, but the way his hat was askew, and the way his collar was pulled up to his eyes, only made his grief more touching. As Dora was ill we went to my aunt's instead of my house.On hearing the announcement, my aunt came out to meet Mr. Micawber with great cordiality.Mr. Micawber, having kissed her hand, retreated to the window again, and struggled with his own feelings with his handkerchief. Mr. Dick is at home.His natural sympathy with anyone who looked unhappy, and his instant recognition of such a person, caused him to shake hands with Mr. Micawber no less than six times in five minutes.It seemed to Mr. Micawber in his misery a touching passion, and it came from a stranger.Every time Mr. Micawber shook hands, he could only say: "My dear sir, you conquered me!" This greatly encouraged Mr. Dick, and he shook hands again with greater courage. "The gentleman's kindness," said Mr. Micawber to my aunt, "if you will allow me, madam, to take an analogy from the coarser national sports vocabulary--has knocked me out of my head. For a For someone who is struggling under the pressure of worry and restlessness, I assure you, this is an unbearable hospitality!" "My friend Mr. Dick is not an ordinary man," replied my aunt proudly. "I believe it," said Mr. Micawber, "my dear sir!" for Mr. Dick was shaking hands with him again; "I appreciate your kindness!" "What do you think?" asked Mr. Dick anxiously. "Nothing, my dear sir," returned Mr. Micawber with a sigh. "You should cheer up," said Mr. Dick, "and make yourself as comfortable as you can." These few friendly words, and Mr. Dick's renewed handshake, moved Mr. Micawber very much. "In the kaleidoscope of life's vicissitudes," he said, "I have encountered oases before, but never such a green one as this one!" At any other time, this would have made me happy; but now I think we're all tight and uncomfortable.Mr. Micawber was evidently torn between his inclinations to say something and his inclination to say nothing.Traddles sat in his chair, staring, his hair straightened still more, and his eyes alternated between the ground and Mr. Micawber, without attempting to say anything.And my aunt, though I saw her piercing eyes fix her new visitor seriously, was calmer than any of us; for she forced him to talk, whether he wanted to or not. "You are an old friend of my grandnephew, Mr. Micawber," said my aunt. "I have been looking forward to the opportunity of making your acquaintance." "Miss," replied Mr. Micawber, "I wish I had had the opportunity of acquainting you. I was not such a dishonorable creature as you see now." "I hope Mrs. Micawber and your family are well, sir," said my aunt. Mr. Micawber bowed his head. "Miss, they're just," he said, after a pause, and at last, desperately, "as safe as the needy and helpless could wish." "Good heavens, sir!" cried my aunt, in her stiff manner, "what do you mean!" "Our livelihood, miss," replied Mr. Micawber, "is at stake, and my employer—" At this point Mr. Micawber broke off in an embarrassing way, and began to peel the lemon.Those lemons, and all the ingredients for his punch, were displayed before him under my direction. "Your employer, you know," said Mr. Dick, touching him on the arm like a gentle prompter. "My dear sir," continued Mr. Micawber, "you have reminded me. I am very grateful to you." They shook hands again. "My employer, Miss--Mr. Heep--has said to me that if he didn't employ me, I'd probably be a charlatan, and eat knives and fire; if not, I could teach me The kids bend their limbs for money, and Mrs Micawber can play the accordion." Mr. Micawber waved the knife casually in his hand, to show that he would never do such a thing while he was alive.Then he resumed peeling the lemons with an air of desperation. My aunt put her elbows on the small round table beside her and watched him attentively.Though I would hate to be tempted to tell him what he would not have said, I would have taken him up at this point, if I hadn't seen him behave strangely at this moment—he put the lemon peel in In the jug, putting sugar into the snuff-dish, pouring alcohol into the empty bottle, and trying very determinedly to pour water out of the candle-dish, were his manners to attract attention.I knew something was wrong, and so it was--he clinked all the cups and plates together, got up from his chair, pulled out the little handkerchief, and let out a groan. "My dear Mr. Copperfield," said Mr. Micawber, covering his face with a handkerchief, "this one of all jobs requires meditation and dignity, and I cannot do it. It is impossible." gone." "Mr. Micawber," said I, "what on earth is that? Tell me, please. There are no outsiders here. " "No stranger, sir!" repeated Mr. Micawber, and all his secrets were revealed. "My God, it's just because there's no outsider that I'm in this mood. Why is that, gentlemen? Why not? Because of the scoundrel, because of baseness; because of deceit, fraud, conspiracy; all the names of bad things It's—Heep!" My aunt and grandma clapped their hands, and we all stood up as if possessed. "The struggle is over!" said Mr. Micawber, waving the little handkerchief wildly and excitedly, and moving his arms every now and then as if he were swimming with unimaginable difficulty. "I will never live that life again. I am a poor man, deprived of everything that would make life like life. In the past, I was held by that demon. Give me back my wife, give me back my family Give me Micawber instead of this poor little booted wretch, and swallow the knife to-morrow, and I'll do it, and I'll do it!" I've never seen such agitated people.I tried to calm him down so that we could have a good discussion; but he was getting more and more excited, and he couldn't listen to a word at all. "Before I blast that - oh - hideous viper - s.p. Any handshake! I'll accept no one's hospitality until I've moved -- oh -- Mount Vesuvius -- over the head of that shameful villain -- H. P. -- ah -- and detonated it! Before I smothered the - that liar - liar - H.P.'s eyes - oh - the lord's - oh - diet, especially the punch - oh - I couldn't swallow a bite! Before I crushed that - the greatest hypocrite and liar - and the perjurer - H.P. - into atoms that - oh - invisible to the naked eye - I - —oh—never know anybody—and never—oh—never say a word!" I was a little afraid Mr. Micawber would die on the spot.He looked terrible as he labored so hard to utter those vague sentences.Later, he fell on the chair, sweating profusely, staring at us, various abnormal colors appeared on his face, and his Adam's apple kept rising and falling, as if it was about to squeeze his forehead.He really looked like he was going to die.I wanted to help him, but he waved at me, still unwilling to listen to a word. "No, Copperfield!--until Miss Wickfield--oh--is compensated for her damages--from that rotten villain--S.P.--nothing to say! Absolutely Confidential - oh - don't tell - oh, nobody - next week today - oh - and very friendly gentlemen - to the Canterbury Hotel - oh - Mrs Micawber and I - - will be there - sing "Auld Lang Syne" together - and - oh - unmask the heinous villain - H.P.! Say nothing - oh - and don't want to hear anything Advice—go at once—to track down the damned unfaithful—H.P.—can't—oh—bye friend!" Having said all this, Mr. Micawber rushed out of the room, to our uneasiness, hope, and wonder, so that our spirits were no better than his.Even in that state, however, he could not suppress his penchant for writing letters; for when we were all anxious but hopeful and amazed, a nearby hotel sent me the following idyllic letter: Text message, this is what he wrote when he went to that hotel: top secret! my dear sir: I implore you, give my apologies to your great-uncle for my gaffe and disrespect just now.Because of the fierce battle in my heart, it is like a steaming volcano that has not burst out for a long time, and today it will be irresistible. This feeling can only be felt, not expressed in words. I have invited you all to meet at Canterbury this morning next week.My wife and I will join you in singing the famous song of Tweed, the immortal tax collector. It is also there.I'm afraid I couldn't make it clear at that time, so I made a special request. -------- ① Department of "Auld Lang Syne". Let me see that I have fulfilled my duty, and I will make up for my mistakes (because only after making up for it will I have a face to the world), and I will no longer be in this world.I only ask that my skeleton be placed in the place where the world belongs to, and that my stele be engraved with: There are so many deceased seniors in the small village, Everyone sleeps peacefully in their little graves① —and engraved with a humble name. Wilkin Micawber -------- ① This is the verse in the elegy written by the British poet Thomao Gray in the 18th century.