Nicholas Nickleby
‘I think that, for the present at all events, it will be better for
Miss Nickleby to come into the show-room with you, and try things on for
people,’ said Madame Mantalini. ‘She will not be able for the present to
be of much use in any other way; and her appearance will--’
‘Suit very well with mine, Madame Mantalini,’ interrupted Miss Knag. ‘So
it will; and to be sure I might have known that you would not be long in
finding that out; for you have so much taste in all those matters, that
really, as I often say to the young ladies, I do not know how, when, or
where, you possibly could have acquired all you know--hem--Miss Nickleby
and I are quite a pair, Madame Mantalini, only I am a little darker than
Miss Nickleby, and--hem--I think my foot may be a little smaller. Miss
Nickleby, I am sure, will not be offended at my saying that, when she
hears that our family always have been celebrated for small feet ever
since--hem--ever since our family had any feet at all, indeed, I think.
I had an uncle once, Madame Mantalini, who lived in Cheltenham, and
had a most excellent business as a tobacconist--hem--who had such small
feet, that they were no bigger than those which are usually joined to
wooden legs--the most symmetrical feet, Madame Mantalini, that even you
can imagine.’
‘They must have had something of the appearance of club feet, Miss
Knag,’ said Madame.
‘Well now, that is so like you,’ returned Miss Knag, ‘Ha! ha! ha! Of
club feet! Oh very good! As I often remark to the young ladies, “Well
I must say, and I do not care who knows it, of all the ready
humour--hem--I ever heard anywhere”--and I have heard a good deal; for
when my dear brother was alive (I kept house for him, Miss Nickleby), we
had to supper once a week two or three young men, highly celebrated
in those days for their humour, Madame Mantalini--“Of all the ready
humour,” I say to the young ladies, “I ever heard, Madame Mantalini’s
is the most remarkable--hem. It is so gentle, so sarcastic, and yet so
good-natured (as I was observing to Miss Simmonds only this morning),
that how, or when, or by what means she acquired it, is to me a mystery
indeed.”’
Here Miss Knag paused to take breath, and while she pauses it may be
observed--not that she was marvellously loquacious and marvellously
deferential to Madame Mantalini, since these are facts which require no
comment; but that every now and then, she was accustomed, in the torrent
of her discourse, to introduce a loud, shrill, clear ‘hem!’ the import
and meaning of which, was variously interpreted by her acquaintance;
some holding that Miss Knag dealt in exaggeration, and introduced the
monosyllable when any fresh invention was in course of coinage in her
brain; others, that when she wanted a word, she threw it in to gain
time, and prevent anybody else from striking into the conversation. It
may be further remarked, that Miss Knag still aimed at youth, although
she had shot beyond it, years ago; and that she was weak and vain, and
one of those people who are best described by the axiom, that you may
trust them as far as you can see them, and no farther.
‘You’ll take care that Miss Nickleby understands her hours, and so
forth,’ said Madame Mantalini; ‘and so I’ll leave her with you. You’ll
not forget my directions, Miss Knag?’
Miss Knag of course replied, that to forget anything Madame Mantalini
had directed, was a moral impossibility; and that lady, dispensing a
general good-morning among her assistants, sailed away.
‘Charming creature, isn’t she, Miss Nickleby?’ said Miss Knag, rubbing
her hands together.
‘I have seen very little of her,’ said Kate. ‘I hardly know yet.’
‘Have you seen Mr. Mantalini?’ inquired Miss Knag.
‘Yes; I have seen him twice.’
‘Isn’t HE a charming creature?’
‘Indeed he does not strike me as being so, by any means,’ replied Kate.
‘No, my dear!’ cried Miss Knag, elevating her hands. ‘Why, goodness
gracious mercy, where’s your taste? Such a fine tall, full-whiskered
dashing gentlemanly man, with such teeth and hair, and--hem--well now,
you DO astonish me.’
‘I dare say I am very foolish,’ replied Kate, laying aside her bonnet;
‘but as my opinion is of very little importance to him or anyone else,
I do not regret having formed it, and shall be slow to change it, I
think.’
‘He is a very fine man, don’t you think so?’ asked one of the young
ladies.
‘Indeed he may be, for anything I could say to the contrary,’ replied
Kate.
‘And drives very beautiful horses, doesn’t he?’ inquired another.
‘I dare say he may, but I never saw them,’ answered Kate.
‘Never saw them!’ interposed Miss Knag. ‘Oh, well! There it is at
once you know; how can you possibly pronounce an opinion about a
gentleman--hem--if you don’t see him as he turns out altogether?’
There was so much of the world--even of the little world of the country
girl--in this idea of the old milliner, that Kate, who was anxious, for
every reason, to change the subject, made no further remark, and left
Miss Knag in possession of the field.
After a short silence, during which most of the young people made a
closer inspection of Kate’s appearance, and compared notes respecting
it, one of them offered to help her off with her shawl, and the
offer being accepted, inquired whether she did not find black very
uncomfortable wear.
‘I do indeed,’ replied Kate, with a bitter sigh.
‘So dusty and hot,’ observed the same speaker, adjusting her dress for
her.
Kate might have said, that mourning is sometimes the coldest wear which
mortals can assume; that it not only chills the breasts of those it
clothes, but extending its influence to summer friends, freezes up their
sources of good-will and kindness, and withering all the buds of promise
they once so liberally put forth, leaves nothing but bared and rotten
hearts exposed. There are few who have lost a friend or relative
constituting in life their sole dependence, who have not keenly felt
this chilling influence of their sable garb. She had felt it acutely,
and feeling it at the moment, could not quite restrain her tears.
‘I am very sorry to have wounded you by my thoughtless speech,’ said
her companion. ‘I did not think of it. You are in mourning for some near
relation?’
‘For my father,’ answered Kate.
‘For what relation, Miss Simmonds?’ asked Miss Knag, in an audible
voice.
‘Her father,’ replied the other softly.
‘Her father, eh?’ said Miss Knag, without the slightest depression of
her voice. ‘Ah! A long illness, Miss Simmonds?’
‘Hush,’ replied the girl; ‘I don’t know.’
‘Our misfortune was very sudden,’ said Kate, turning away, ‘or I might
perhaps, at a time like this, be enabled to support it better.’
There had existed not a little desire in the room, according to
invariable custom, when any new ‘young person’ came, to know who Kate
was, and what she was, and all about her; but, although it might
have been very naturally increased by her appearance and emotion, the
knowledge that it pained her to be questioned, was sufficient to repress
even this curiosity; and Miss Knag, finding it hopeless to attempt
extracting any further particulars just then, reluctantly commanded
silence, and bade the work proceed.
In silence, then, the tasks were plied until half-past one, when a baked
leg of mutton, with potatoes to correspond, were served in the kitchen.
The meal over, and the young ladies having enjoyed the additional
relaxation of washing their hands, the work began again, and was again
performed in silence, until the noise of carriages rattling through the
streets, and of loud double knocks at doors, gave token that the day’s
work of the more fortunate members of society was proceeding in its
turn.
One of these double knocks at Madame Mantalini’s door, announced
the equipage of some great lady--or rather rich one, for there is
occasionally a distinction between riches and greatness--who had come
with her daughter to approve of some court-dresses which had been a long
time preparing, and upon whom Kate was deputed to wait, accompanied by
Miss Knag, and officered of course by Madame Mantalini.
Kate’s part in the pageant was humble enough, her duties being limited
to holding articles of costume until Miss Knag was ready to try them on,
and now and then tying a string, or fastening a hook-and-eye. She
might, not unreasonably, have supposed herself beneath the reach of any
arrogance, or bad humour; but it happened that the lady and daughter
were both out of temper that day, and the poor girl came in for
her share of their revilings. She was awkward--her hands were
cold--dirty--coarse--she could do nothing right; they wondered how
Madame Mantalini could have such people about her; requested they might
see some other young woman the next time they came; and so forth.
So common an occurrence would be hardly deserving of mention, but for
its effect. Kate shed many bitter tears when these people were gone,
and felt, for the first time, humbled by her occupation. She had, it is
true, quailed at the prospect of drudgery and hard service; but she had
felt no degradation in working for her bread, until she found herself
exposed to insolence and pride. Philosophy would have taught her that
the degradation was on the side of those who had sunk so low as to
display such passions habitually, and without cause: but she was too
young for such consolation, and her honest feeling was hurt. May not the
complaint, that common people are above their station, often take its
rise in the fact of UNcommon people being below theirs?
In such scenes and occupations the time wore on until nine o’clock, when
Kate, jaded and dispirited with the occurrences of the day, hastened
from the confinement of the workroom, to join her mother at the street
corner, and walk home:--the more sadly, from having to disguise her real
feelings, and feign to participate in all the sanguine visions of her
companion.
‘Bless my soul, Kate,’ said Mrs. Nickleby; ‘I’ve been thinking all day
what a delightful thing it would be for Madame Mantalini to take you
into partnership--such a likely thing too, you know! Why, your poor
dear papa’s cousin’s sister-in-law--a Miss Browndock--was taken into
partnership by a lady that kept a school at Hammersmith, and made her
fortune in no time at all. I forget, by-the-bye, whether that Miss
Browndock was the same lady that got the ten thousand pounds prize in
the lottery, but I think she was; indeed, now I come to think of it, I
am sure she was. “Mantalini and Nickleby”, how well it would sound!--and
if Nicholas has any good fortune, you might have Doctor Nickleby, the
head-master of Westminster School, living in the same street.’
‘Dear Nicholas!’ cried Kate, taking from her reticule her brother’s
letter from Dotheboys Hall. ‘In all our misfortunes, how happy it makes
me, mama, to hear he is doing well, and to find him writing in such
good spirits! It consoles me for all we may undergo, to think that he is
comfortable and happy.’
Poor Kate! she little thought how weak her consolation was, and how soon
she would be undeceived.
CHAPTER 18
Miss Knag, after doting on Kate Nickleby for three whole Days, makes
up her Mind to hate her for evermore. The Causes which led Miss Knag to
form this Resolution
There are many lives of much pain, hardship, and suffering, which,
having no stirring interest for any but those who lead them, are
disregarded by persons who do not want thought or feeling, but who
pamper their compassion and need high stimulants to rouse it.
There are not a few among the disciples of charity who require, in their
vocation, scarcely less excitement than the votaries of pleasure in
theirs; and hence it is that diseased sympathy and compassion are every