CHAPTER VII

ST. MARTIN'S IN THE FIELDS AND ST. JOHN'S CHURCH, WESTMINSTER, WHERE DAVID COPPERFIELD FOUND PEGGOTTY, AND WHERE THE TWO MET MARTHA IN THEIR SEARCH FOR LITTLE EM LY

THE

HE story of Little Em'ly, Peggotty, and Ham is one of the Magdalen stories that the world will never tire of hearing.

Dickens was never more moving than when he wrote of Little Em'ly's trust, patience, and repentance; of Peggotty's loyal devotion; of Ham's almost reverential tenderness for his erring sweetheart, and of Martha's struggle to keep her pledge. Few of his readers have ever been able to keep back the tears over these special pages of "David Copperfield." I myself have long since given it up as a hopeless task.

And when one finishes the book it would be just as well to open that other and find the words of the Master, "Neither do I condemn

thee, go and sin no more," for these two gospels have done as much to expose the hypocrisy, cruelty, and stupidity of the "Holier than Thous" as anything written since the early days of the Christian era.

In following the golden threads woven into the warp and woof of this tragedy one or more of their ends can be found hidden in the two churches whose titles head this chapter. And as the buildings are still in existence, and almost as Mr. Dickens used them in his never-to-beforgotten masterpiece, it is eminently fitting that they should find their place in these chronicles.

The few changes apparent do not affect in any way our interest in the story nor do they rob the text of its truth. A slant has been given to the street on which the old church stands, and St. Martin's Lane has been widened and straightened until it can dip the more gracefully into Trafalgar Square and so on to the Strand; but the sombre, dignified pillars of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, their shoulders supporting the cornice and roof, the whole a mass of mellow soot soft as velvet, and the low marble steps leading to the portico are precisely as they were on that eventful night when David Copperfield, taking his way home by St. Mar

tin's Lane, came across Martha and then Peggotty.

"It had been a bitter day," he says, "and a cutting north east wind had blown for some time. The wind had gone down with the light, and so the snow had come on. It was a heavy, settled fall, I recollect, in great flakes; and it lay thick. The noise of wheels and tread of people were as hushed as if the streets had been strewn that depth with feathers.

was

"My shortest way home, and I naturally took the shortest way on such a night through St. Martin's Lane. Now, the church which gives its name to the lane, stood in a less free situation at that time; there being no open space before it, and the lane winding down to the Strand. As I passed the steps of the portico, I encountered, at the corner a woman's face. It looked in mine, passed across the narrow lane, and disappeared. I knew it. I had seen it somewhere. But I could not remember where. I had some association with it, that struck upon my heart directly; but I was thinking of anything else when it came upon me, and was confused.

"On the steps of the church, there was the stooping figure of a man, who had put down some burden on the smooth snow, to adjust it;

my seeing the face, and my seeing him, were simultaneous. I don't think I had stopped in my surprise; but, in any case, as I went on, he rose, turned, and came down towards me. I stood face to face with Mr. Peggotty! "Then I remembered the woman. Martha, to whom Emily had given the money that night in the kitchen. Martha Endell side by side with whom he would not have seen his dear niece, Ham had told me, for all the treasures wrecked in the sea.

It was

"We shook hands heartily. At first, neither of us could speak a word.

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'Mas'r Davy!' he said, gripping me tight, 'it do my 'art good to see you, Sir. Well met, well met!""

Weeks elapse since this meeting between Peggotty and Mas'r David, and another takes place at which David suggests that Martha, still a woman of the streets, may help in the finding of Emily.

"Do you know that she (Martha) is in London?' (Copperfield asked).

"I have seen her in the streets,' he (Peggotty) answered with a shiver.

"But you don't know,' said I, 'that Emily

was charitable to her, with Ham's help, long before she fled from home. Nor, that, when we met one night, and spoke together in the room yonder, over the way, she listened at the door.' "Mas'r Davy?' he replied in astonishment. 'That night when it snew so hard?'

"That night. I have never seen her since. I went back, after parting from you, to speak to her, but she was gone. I was unwilling to mention her to you then, and I am now; but she is the person of whom I speak, and with whom I think we should communicate. Do you understand?'

"Too well, Sir,' he replied. We had sunk our voices, almost to a whisper, and continued to speak in that tone.

"'You say you have seen her. Do you think that you could find her? I could only hope to do so by chance.'

"I think, Mas'r David, I know wheer to look.'

"It is dark. Being together, shall we go out now, and try to find her to-night?'

"He assented, and prepared to accompany

me.

"We had come, through Temple Bar, into the City. Conversing no more now, and walk