Quote 28
Or perhaps this is the Desert of Sahara! For, though Julia has a stately house, and mighty company, and sumptuous dinners every day, I see no green growth near her; nothing that can ever come to fruit or flower. What Julia calls "society," I see; among it Mr. Jack Maldon, from his Patent Place, sneering at the hand that gave it him, and speaking to me of the Doctor as "so charmingly antique." But when society is the name for such hollow gentlemen and ladies, Julia, and when its breeding is professed indifference to everything that can advance or can retard mankind, I think we must have lost ourselves in that same Desert of Sahara, and had better find the way out. (64.18)
In David's "Last Retrospect," he finds Julia Mills married to a rich man. But Julia Mills's marriage has drained the life from her, and makes her surroundings completely barren ("nothing that can ever come to fruit or flower"). David tells us that "society" is full of sneering, snide, unproductive people: "hollow gentlemen and ladies." And whatever you may say about the Peggottys, they are certainly neither "indiffer[ent]" nor "hollow."
Quote 29
[Mr. Murdstone] beat me then, as if he would have beaten me to death. Above all the noise we made, I heard them running up the stairs, and crying out—I heard my mother crying out—and Peggotty. Then he was gone; and the door was locked outside; and I was lying, fevered and hot, and torn, and sore, and raging in my puny way, upon the floor.
How well I recollect, when I became quiet, what an unnatural stillness seemed to reign through the whole house! How well I remember, when my smart and passion began to cool, how wicked I began to feel! (4.111-2)
This scene is awful. We have to admit that this is probably the most painful part of the novel for us, when Mr. Murdstone takes a switch and whips his poor, defenseless eight-year-old stepson for the "fault" of not having learned his lessons properly. It's just disgusting. The worst thing about this moment might be that, as David recovers from his beating, he feels "wicked." Beating makes its victim feel evil, as though the only way David can handle being whipped is to try and find ways to blame himself – as though that would make it justified or fair.
Quote 30
What I suffered from that placard, nobody can imagine. Whether it was possible for people to see me or not, I always fancied that somebody was reading it. It was no relief to turn round and find nobody; for wherever my back was, there I imagined somebody always to be. That cruel man with the wooden leg aggravated my sufferings. He was in authority; and if he ever saw me leaning against a tree, or a wall, or the house, he roared out from his lodge door in a stupendous voice, 'Hallo, you sir! You Copperfield! Show that badge conspicuous, or I'll report you!' The playground was a bare gravelled yard, open to all the back of the house and the offices; and I knew that the servants read it, and the butcher read it, and the baker read it; that everybody, in a word, who came backwards and forwards to the house, of a morning when I was ordered to walk there, read that I was to be taken care of, for I bit, I recollect that I positively began to have a dread of myself, as a kind of wild boy who did bite. (5.145)
The experience of having the whole world looking at David's sign – "Take care of him. He bites." – inspires David with this morbid sensitivity about the whole world's interest in him. He suddenly becomes horribly aware that he is seen by many strangers throughout the day. This awareness of social judgment makes David feel unfounded guilt "as a kind of wild boy who did bite." This sense that social judgment increases a sense of guilt gets repeated in the episode of poor Mrs. Annie Strong, who is so aware that the world thinks she is cheating on Doctor Strong.