David Copperfield | Page 3

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DAVID COPPERFIELD
by CHARLES DICKENS

AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO THE HON. Mr. AND Mrs.
RICHARD WATSON, OF ROCKINGHAM,
NORTHAMPTONSHIRE.

CONTENTS
I. I Am Born II. I Observe III. I Have a Change IV. I Fall into Disgrace

V. I Am Sent Away VI. I Enlarge My Circle of Acquaintance VII. My
'First Half' at Salem House VIII. My Holidays. Especially One Happy
Afternoon IX. I Have a Memorable Birthday X. I Become Neglected,
and Am Provided For XI. I Begin Life on My Own Account, and Don't
Like It XII. Liking Life on My Own Account No Better, I Form a Great
Resolution XIII. The Sequel of My Resolution XIV. My Aunt Makes
up Her Mind About Me XV. I Make Another Beginning XVI. I Am a
New Boy in More Senses Than One XVII. Somebody Turns Up XVIII.
A Retrospect XIX. I Look About Me and Make a Discovery XX.
Steerforth's Home XXI. Little Em'ly XXII. Some Old Scenes, and
Some New People XXIII. I Corroborate Mr. Dick, and Choose a
Profession XXIV. My First Dissipation XXV. Good and Bad Angels
XXVI. I Fall into Captivity XXVII. Tommy Traddles XXVIII. Mr.
Micawber's Gauntlet XXIX. I Visit Steerforth at His Home, Again
XXX. A Loss XXXI. A Greater Loss XXXII. The Beginning of a Long
Journey XXXIII. Blissful XXXIV. My Aunt Astonishes Me XXXV.
Depression XXXVI. Enthusiasm XXXVII. A Little Cold Water
XXXVIII. A Dissolution of Partnership XXXIX. Wickfield and Heep
XL. The Wanderer XLI. Dora's Aunts XLII. Mischief XLIII. Another
Retrospect XLIV. Our Housekeeping XLV. Mr. Dick Fulfils My Aunt's
Predictions XLVI. Intelligence XLVII. Martha XLVIII. Domestic
XLIX. I Am Involved in Mystery L. Mr. Peggotty's Dream Comes True
LI. The Beginning of a Longer Journey LII. I Assist at an Explosion
LIII. Another Retrospect LIV. Mr. Micawber's Transactions LV.
Tempest LVI. The New Wound, and the Old LVII. The Emigrants
LVIII. Absence LIX. Return LX. Agnes LXI. I Am Shown Two
Interesting Penitents LXII. A Light Shines on My Way LXIII. A
Visitor LXIV. A Last Retrospect

PREFACE TO 1850 EDITION
I do not find it easy to get sufficiently far away from this Book, in the
first sensations of having finished it, to refer to it with the composure
which this formal heading would seem to require. My interest in it, is
so recent and strong; and my mind is so divided between pleasure and
regret - pleasure in the achievement of a long design, regret in the

separation from many companions - that I am in danger of wearying the
reader whom I love, with personal confidences, and private emotions.
Besides which, all that I could say of the Story, to any purpose, I have
endeavoured to say in it.
It would concern the reader little, perhaps, to know, how sorrowfully
the pen is laid down at the close of a two-years' imaginative task; or
how an Author feels as if he were dismissing some portion of himself
into the shadowy world, when a crowd of the creatures of his brain are
going from him for ever. Yet, I have nothing else to tell; unless, indeed,
I were to confess (which might be of less moment still) that no one can
ever believe this Narrative, in the reading, more than I have believed it
in the writing.
Instead of looking back, therefore, I will look forward. I cannot close
this Volume more agreeably to myself, than with a hopeful glance
towards the time when I shall again put forth my two green leaves once
a month, and with a faithful remembrance of the genial sun and
showers that have fallen on these leaves of David Copperfield, and
made me happy. London, October, 1850.
PREFACE TO THE CHARLES DICKENS EDITION
I REMARKED in the original Preface to this Book, that I did not find it
easy to get sufficiently far away from it, in the first sensations of
having finished it, to refer