Nicholas Nickleby
greens who were the most used to it, and cursing the others all round,
bade them go--but never mind where. I don’t know the German for it, or I
would put it delicately that way.
‘It is not for me to say by what means, or by what degrees, some wives
manage to keep down some husbands as they do, although I may have
my private opinion on the subject, and may think that no Member of
Parliament ought to be married, inasmuch as three married members out of
every four, must vote according to their wives’ consciences (if there be
such things), and not according to their own. All I need say, just now,
is, that the Baroness Von Koeldwethout somehow or other acquired great
control over the Baron Von Koeldwethout, and that, little by little, and
bit by bit, and day by day, and year by year, the baron got the worst of
some disputed question, or was slyly unhorsed from some old hobby;
and that by the time he was a fat hearty fellow of forty-eight or
thereabouts, he had no feasting, no revelry, no hunting train, and no
hunting--nothing in short that he liked, or used to have; and that,
although he was as fierce as a lion, and as bold as brass, he was
decidedly snubbed and put down, by his own lady, in his own castle of
Grogzwig.
‘Nor was this the whole extent of the baron’s misfortunes. About a year
after his nuptials, there came into the world a lusty young baron,
in whose honour a great many fireworks were let off, and a great many
dozens of wine drunk; but next year there came a young baroness, and
next year another young baron, and so on, every year, either a baron or
baroness (and one year both together), until the baron found himself
the father of a small family of twelve. Upon every one of these
anniversaries, the venerable Baroness Von Swillenhausen was nervously
sensitive for the well-being of her child the Baroness Von Koeldwethout;
and although it was not found that the good lady ever did anything
material towards contributing to her child’s recovery, still she made it
a point of duty to be as nervous as possible at the castle of Grogzwig,
and to divide her time between moral observations on the baron’s
housekeeping, and bewailing the hard lot of her unhappy daughter. And if
the Baron of Grogzwig, a little hurt and irritated at this, took heart,
and ventured to suggest that his wife was at least no worse off than the
wives of other barons, the Baroness Von Swillenhausen begged all
persons to take notice, that nobody but she, sympathised with her dear
daughter’s sufferings; upon which, her relations and friends remarked,
that to be sure she did cry a great deal more than her son-in-law, and
that if there were a hard-hearted brute alive, it was that Baron of
Grogzwig.
‘The poor baron bore it all as long as he could, and when he could bear
it no longer lost his appetite and his spirits, and sat himself gloomily
and dejectedly down. But there were worse troubles yet in store for
him, and as they came on, his melancholy and sadness increased. Times
changed. He got into debt. The Grogzwig coffers ran low, though the
Swillenhausen family had looked upon them as inexhaustible; and just
when the baroness was on the point of making a thirteenth addition to
the family pedigree, Von Koeldwethout discovered that he had no means of
replenishing them.
‘“I don’t see what is to be done,” said the baron. “I think I’ll kill
myself.”
‘This was a bright idea. The baron took an old hunting-knife from a
cupboard hard by, and having sharpened it on his boot, made what boys
call “an offer” at his throat.
‘“Hem!” said the baron, stopping short. “Perhaps it’s not sharp enough.”
‘The baron sharpened it again, and made another offer, when his hand was
arrested by a loud screaming among the young barons and baronesses, who
had a nursery in an upstairs tower with iron bars outside the window, to
prevent their tumbling out into the moat.
‘“If I had been a bachelor,” said the baron sighing, “I might have done
it fifty times over, without being interrupted. Hallo! Put a flask of
wine and the largest pipe in the little vaulted room behind the hall.”
‘One of the domestics, in a very kind manner, executed the baron’s order
in the course of half an hour or so, and Von Koeldwethout being apprised
thereof, strode to the vaulted room, the walls of which, being of dark
shining wood, gleamed in the light of the blazing logs which were piled
upon the hearth. The bottle and pipe were ready, and, upon the whole,
the place looked very comfortable.
‘“Leave the lamp,” said the baron.
‘“Anything else, my lord?” inquired the domestic.
‘“The room,” replied the baron. The domestic obeyed, and the baron
locked the door.
‘“I’ll smoke a last pipe,” said the baron, “and then I’ll be off.” So,
putting the knife upon the table till he wanted it, and tossing off a
goodly measure of wine, the Lord of Grogzwig threw himself back in his
chair, stretched his legs out before the fire, and puffed away.
‘He thought about a great many things--about his present troubles and
past days of bachelorship, and about the Lincoln greens, long since
dispersed up and down the country, no one knew whither: with the
exception of two who had been unfortunately beheaded, and four who had
killed themselves with drinking. His mind was running upon bears and
boars, when, in the process of draining his glass to the bottom,
he raised his eyes, and saw, for the first time and with unbounded
astonishment, that he was not alone.
‘No, he was not; for, on the opposite side of the fire, there sat with
folded arms a wrinkled hideous figure, with deeply sunk and bloodshot
eyes, and an immensely long cadaverous face, shadowed by jagged and
matted locks of coarse black hair. He wore a kind of tunic of a dull
bluish colour, which, the baron observed, on regarding it attentively,
was clasped or ornamented down the front with coffin handles. His legs,
too, were encased in coffin plates as though in armour; and over his
left shoulder he wore a short dusky cloak, which seemed made of a
remnant of some pall. He took no notice of the baron, but was intently
eyeing the fire.
‘“Halloa!” said the baron, stamping his foot to attract attention.
‘“Halloa!” replied the stranger, moving his eyes towards the baron, but
not his face or himself “What now?”
‘“What now!” replied the baron, nothing daunted by his hollow voice and
lustreless eyes. “I should ask that question. How did you get here?”
‘“Through the door,” replied the figure.
‘“What are you?” says the baron.
‘“A man,” replied the figure.
‘“I don’t believe it,” says the baron.
‘“Disbelieve it then,” says the figure.
‘“I will,” rejoined the baron.
‘The figure looked at the bold Baron of Grogzwig for some time, and then
said familiarly,
‘“There’s no coming over you, I see. I’m not a man!”
‘“What are you then?” asked the baron.
‘“A genius,” replied the figure.
‘“You don’t look much like one,” returned the baron scornfully.
‘“I am the Genius of Despair and Suicide,” said the apparition. “Now you
know me.”
‘With these words the apparition turned towards the baron, as if
composing himself for a talk--and, what was very remarkable, was, that
he threw his cloak aside, and displaying a stake, which was run through
the centre of his body, pulled it out with a jerk, and laid it on the
table, as composedly as if it had been a walking-stick.
‘“Now,” said the figure, glancing at the hunting-knife, “are you ready
for me?”
‘“Not quite,” rejoined the baron; “I must finish this pipe first.”
‘“Look sharp then,” said the figure.
‘“You seem in a hurry,” said the baron.
‘“Why, yes, I am,” answered the figure; “they’re doing a pretty brisk
business in my way, over in England and France just now, and my time is
a good deal taken up.”
‘“Do you drink?” said the baron, touching the bottle with the bowl of
his pipe.
‘“Nine times out of ten, and then very hard,” rejoined the figure,
drily.
‘“Never in moderation?” asked the baron.
‘“Never,” replied the figure, with a shudder, “that breeds
cheerfulness.”
‘The baron took another look at his new friend, whom he thought an
uncommonly queer customer, and at length inquired whether he took
any active part in such little proceedings as that which he had in
contemplation.
‘“No,” replied the figure evasively; “but I am always present.”
‘“Just to see fair, I suppose?” said the baron.
‘“Just that,” replied the figure, playing with his stake, and examining
the ferule. “Be as quick as you can, will you, for there’s a young
gentleman who is afflicted with too much money and leisure wanting me
now, I find.”
‘“Going to kill himself because he has too much money!” exclaimed the
baron, quite tickled. “Ha! ha! that’s a good one.” (This was the first
time the baron had laughed for many a long day.)
‘“I say,” expostulated the figure, looking very much scared; “don’t do
that again.”
‘“Why not?” demanded the baron.
‘“Because it gives me pain all over,” replied the figure. “Sigh as much
as you please: that does me good.”
‘The baron sighed mechanically at the mention of the word; the figure,
brightening up again, handed him the hunting-knife with most winning
politeness.
‘“It’s not a bad idea though,” said the baron, feeling the edge of the
weapon; “a man killing himself because he has too much money.”
‘“Pooh!” said the apparition, petulantly, “no better than a man’s
killing himself because he has none or little.”
‘Whether the genius unintentionally committed himself in saying this,
or whether he thought the baron’s mind was so thoroughly made up that it
didn’t matter what he said, I have no means of knowing. I only know that
the baron stopped his hand, all of a sudden, opened his eyes wide, and
looked as if quite a new light had come upon him for the first time.
‘“Why, certainly,” said Von Koeldwethout, “nothing is too bad to be
retrieved.”
‘“Except empty coffers,” cried the genius.
‘“Well; but they may be one day filled again,” said the baron.
‘“Scolding wives,” snarled the genius.
‘“Oh! They may be made quiet,” said the baron.
‘“Thirteen children,” shouted the genius.
‘“Can’t all go wrong, surely,” said the baron.
‘The genius was evidently growing very savage with the baron, for
holding these opinions all at once; but he tried to laugh it off, and
said if he would let him know when he had left off joking he should feel
obliged to him.
‘“But I am not joking; I was never farther from it,” remonstrated the
baron.
‘“Well, I am glad to hear that,” said the genius, looking very grim,
“because a joke, without any figure of speech, IS the death of me. Come!
Quit this dreary world at once.”
‘“I don’t know,” said the baron, playing with the knife; “it’s a dreary
one certainly, but I don’t think yours is much better, for you have
not the appearance of being particularly comfortable. That puts me in
mind--what security have I, that I shall be any the better for going
out of the world after all!” he cried, starting up; “I never thought of
that.”
‘“Dispatch,” cried the figure, gnashing his teeth.
‘“Keep off!” said the baron. ‘I’ll brood over miseries no longer, but
put a good face on the matter, and try the fresh air and the bears
again; and if that don’t do, I’ll talk to the baroness soundly, and cut
the Von Swillenhausens dead.’ With this the baron fell into his chair,
and laughed so loud and boisterously, that the room rang with it.
‘The figure fell back a pace or two, regarding the baron meanwhile with
a look of intense terror, and when he had ceased, caught up the stake,
plunged it violently into its body, uttered a frightful howl, and
disappeared.
‘Von Koeldwethout never saw it again. Having once made up his mind
to action, he soon brought the baroness and the Von Swillenhausens to