Nicholas Nickleby
patriotic cast. For instance, if any preposterous bill were brought
forward, for giving poor grubbing devils of authors a right to their own
property, I should like to say, that I for one would never consent to
opposing an insurmountable bar to the diffusion of literature among THE
PEOPLE,--you understand?--that the creations of the pocket, being man’s,
might belong to one man, or one family; but that the creations of the
brain, being God’s, ought as a matter of course to belong to the people
at large--and if I was pleasantly disposed, I should like to make a joke
about posterity, and say that those who wrote for posterity should be
content to be rewarded by the approbation OF posterity; it might take
with the house, and could never do me any harm, because posterity can’t
be expected to know anything about me or my jokes either--do you see?’
‘I see that, sir,’ replied Nicholas.
‘You must always bear in mind, in such cases as this, where our
interests are not affected,’ said Mr. Gregsbury, ‘to put it very strong
about the people, because it comes out very well at election-time; and
you could be as funny as you liked about the authors; because I believe
the greater part of them live in lodgings, and are not voters. This is
a hasty outline of the chief things you’d have to do, except waiting in
the lobby every night, in case I forgot anything, and should want fresh
cramming; and, now and then, during great debates, sitting in the
front row of the gallery, and saying to the people about--‘You see that
gentleman, with his hand to his face, and his arm twisted round the
pillar--that’s Mr. Gregsbury--the celebrated Mr. Gregsbury,’--with any
other little eulogium that might strike you at the moment. And for
salary,’ said Mr. Gregsbury, winding up with great rapidity; for he was
out of breath--‘and for salary, I don’t mind saying at once in round
numbers, to prevent any dissatisfaction--though it’s more than I’ve been
accustomed to give--fifteen shillings a week, and find yourself. There!’
With this handsome offer, Mr. Gregsbury once more threw himself back in
his chair, and looked like a man who had been most profligately liberal,
but is determined not to repent of it notwithstanding.
‘Fifteen shillings a week is not much,’ said Nicholas, mildly.
‘Not much! Fifteen shillings a week not much, young man?’ cried Mr
Gregsbury. ‘Fifteen shillings a--’
‘Pray do not suppose that I quarrel with the sum, sir,’ replied
Nicholas; ‘for I am not ashamed to confess, that whatever it may be in
itself, to me it is a great deal. But the duties and responsibilities
make the recompense small, and they are so very heavy that I fear to
undertake them.’
‘Do you decline to undertake them, sir?’ inquired Mr. Gregsbury, with his
hand on the bell-rope.
‘I fear they are too great for my powers, however good my will may be,
sir,’ replied Nicholas.
‘That is as much as to say that you had rather not accept the place,
and that you consider fifteen shillings a week too little,’ said Mr
Gregsbury, ringing. ‘Do you decline it, sir?’
‘I have no alternative but to do so,’ replied Nicholas.
‘Door, Matthews!’ said Mr. Gregsbury, as the boy appeared.
‘I am sorry I have troubled you unnecessarily, sir,’ said Nicholas.
‘I am sorry you have,’ rejoined Mr. Gregsbury, turning his back upon him.
‘Door, Matthews!’
‘Good-morning, sir,’ said Nicholas.
‘Door, Matthews!’ cried Mr. Gregsbury.
The boy beckoned Nicholas, and tumbling lazily downstairs before him,
opened the door, and ushered him into the street. With a sad and pensive
air, he retraced his steps homewards.
Smike had scraped a meal together from the remnant of last night’s
supper, and was anxiously awaiting his return. The occurrences of the
morning had not improved Nicholas’s appetite, and, by him, the dinner
remained untasted. He was sitting in a thoughtful attitude, with the
plate which the poor fellow had assiduously filled with the choicest
morsels, untouched, by his side, when Newman Noggs looked into the room.
‘Come back?’ asked Newman.
‘Yes,’ replied Nicholas, ‘tired to death: and, what is worse, might have
remained at home for all the good I have done.’
‘Couldn’t expect to do much in one morning,’ said Newman.
‘Maybe so, but I am sanguine, and did expect,’ said Nicholas, ‘and am
proportionately disappointed.’ Saying which, he gave Newman an account
of his proceedings.
‘If I could do anything,’ said Nicholas, ‘anything, however slight,
until Ralph Nickleby returns, and I have eased my mind by confronting
him, I should feel happier. I should think it no disgrace to work,
Heaven knows. Lying indolently here, like a half-tamed sullen beast,
distracts me.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Newman; ‘small things offer--they would pay the
rent, and more--but you wouldn’t like them; no, you could hardly be
expected to undergo it--no, no.’
‘What could I hardly be expected to undergo?’ asked Nicholas, raising
his eyes. ‘Show me, in this wide waste of London, any honest means by
which I could even defray the weekly hire of this poor room, and see if
I shrink from resorting to them! Undergo! I have undergone too much,
my friend, to feel pride or squeamishness now. Except--’ added Nicholas
hastily, after a short silence, ‘except such squeamishness as is common
honesty, and so much pride as constitutes self-respect. I see little
to choose, between assistant to a brutal pedagogue, and toad-eater to a
mean and ignorant upstart, be he member or no member.’
‘I hardly know whether I should tell you what I heard this morning, or
not,’ said Newman.
‘Has it reference to what you said just now?’ asked Nicholas.
‘It has.’
‘Then in Heaven’s name, my good friend, tell it me,’ said Nicholas. ‘For
God’s sake consider my deplorable condition; and, while I promise to
take no step without taking counsel with you, give me, at least, a vote
in my own behalf.’
Moved by this entreaty, Newman stammered forth a variety of most
unaccountable and entangled sentences, the upshot of which was, that
Mrs. Kenwigs had examined him, at great length that morning, touching
the origin of his acquaintance with, and the whole life, adventures, and
pedigree of, Nicholas; that Newman had parried these questions as
long as he could, but being, at length, hard pressed and driven into a
corner, had gone so far as to admit, that Nicholas was a tutor of
great accomplishments, involved in some misfortunes which he was not at
liberty to explain, and bearing the name of Johnson. That Mrs. Kenwigs,
impelled by gratitude, or ambition, or maternal pride, or maternal love,
or all four powerful motives conjointly, had taken secret conference
with Mr. Kenwigs, and had finally returned to propose that Mr. Johnson
should instruct the four Miss Kenwigses in the French language as spoken
by natives, at the weekly stipend of five shillings, current coin of
the realm; being at the rate of one shilling per week, per each Miss
Kenwigs, and one shilling over, until such time as the baby might be
able to take it out in grammar.
‘Which, unless I am very much mistaken,’ observed Mrs. Kenwigs in making
the proposition, ‘will not be very long; for such clever children, Mr
Noggs, never were born into this world, I do believe.’
‘There,’ said Newman, ‘that’s all. It’s beneath you, I know; but I
thought that perhaps you might--’
‘Might!’ cried Nicholas, with great alacrity; ‘of course I shall. I
accept the offer at once. Tell the worthy mother so, without delay, my
dear fellow; and that I am ready to begin whenever she pleases.’
Newman hastened, with joyful steps, to inform Mrs. Kenwigs of his
friend’s acquiescence, and soon returning, brought back word that they
would be happy to see him in the first floor as soon as convenient;
that Mrs. Kenwigs had, upon the instant, sent out to secure a second-hand
French grammar and dialogues, which had long been fluttering in the
sixpenny box at the bookstall round the corner; and that the family,
highly excited at the prospect of this addition to their gentility,
wished the initiatory lesson to come off immediately.
And here it may be observed, that Nicholas was not, in the ordinary
sense of the word, a young man of high spirit. He would resent an
affront to himself, or interpose to redress a wrong offered to another,
as boldly and freely as any knight that ever set lance in rest; but he
lacked that peculiar excess of coolness and great-minded selfishness,
which invariably distinguish gentlemen of high spirit. In truth, for our
own part, we are disposed to look upon such gentleman as being rather
incumbrances than otherwise in rising families: happening to be
acquainted with several whose spirit prevents their settling down to
any grovelling occupation, and only displays itself in a tendency to
cultivate moustachios, and look fierce; and although moustachios and
ferocity are both very pretty things in their way, and very much to be
commended, we confess to a desire to see them bred at the owner’s proper
cost, rather than at the expense of low-spirited people.
Nicholas, therefore, not being a high-spirited young man according to
common parlance, and deeming it a greater degradation to borrow, for the
supply of his necessities, from Newman Noggs, than to teach French to
the little Kenwigses for five shillings a week, accepted the offer with
the alacrity already described, and betook himself to the first floor
with all convenient speed.
Here, he was received by Mrs. Kenwigs with a genteel air, kindly intended
to assure him of her protection and support; and here, too, he found Mr
Lillyvick and Miss Petowker; the four Miss Kenwigses on their form of
audience; and the baby in a dwarf porter’s chair with a deal tray before
it, amusing himself with a toy horse without a head; the said horse
being composed of a small wooden cylinder, not unlike an Italian iron,
supported on four crooked pegs, and painted in ingenious resemblance of
red wafers set in blacking.
‘How do you do, Mr. Johnson?’ said Mrs. Kenwigs. ‘Uncle--Mr. Johnson.’
‘How do you do, sir?’ said Mr. Lillyvick--rather sharply; for he had not
known what Nicholas was, on the previous night, and it was rather an
aggravating circumstance if a tax collector had been too polite to a
teacher.
‘Mr. Johnson is engaged as private master to the children, uncle,’ said
Mrs. Kenwigs.
‘So you said just now, my dear,’ replied Mr. Lillyvick.
‘But I hope,’ said Mrs. Kenwigs, drawing herself up, ‘that that will not
make them proud; but that they will bless their own good fortune,
which has born them superior to common people’s children. Do you hear,
Morleena?’
‘Yes, ma,’ replied Miss Kenwigs.
‘And when you go out in the streets, or elsewhere, I desire that you
don’t boast of it to the other children,’ said Mrs. Kenwigs; ‘and that if
you must say anything about it, you don’t say no more than “We’ve got a
private master comes to teach us at home, but we ain’t proud, because ma
says it’s sinful.” Do you hear, Morleena?’
‘Yes, ma,’ replied Miss Kenwigs again.
‘Then mind you recollect, and do as I tell you,’ said Mrs. Kenwigs.
‘Shall Mr. Johnson begin, uncle?’
‘I am ready to hear, if Mr. Johnson is ready to commence, my dear,’ said
the collector, assuming the air of a profound critic. ‘What sort of
language do you consider French, sir?’
‘How do you mean?’ asked Nicholas.
‘Do you consider it a good language, sir?’ said the collector; ‘a pretty
language, a sensible language?’
‘A pretty language, certainly,’ replied Nicholas; ‘and as it has a name
for everything, and admits of elegant conversation about everything, I
presume it is a sensible one.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Mr. Lillyvick, doubtfully. ‘Do you call it a
cheerful language, now?’
‘Yes,’ replied Nicholas, ‘I should say it was, certainly.’