Nicholas Nickleby
is not a physician who is not proud of being called in to you. What
is their unanimous declaration? “My dear doctor,” said I to Sir Tumley
Snuffim, in this very room, the very last time he came. “My dear doctor,
what is my wife’s complaint? Tell me all. I can bear it. Is it nerves?”
“My dear fellow,” he said, “be proud of that woman; make much of her;
she is an ornament to the fashionable world, and to you. Her complaint
is soul. It swells, expands, dilates--the blood fires, the pulse
quickens, the excitement increases--Whew!”’ Here Mr. Wititterly, who, in
the ardour of his description, had flourished his right hand to within
something less than an inch of Mrs. Nickleby’s bonnet, drew it hastily
back again, and blew his nose as fiercely as if it had been done by some
violent machinery.
‘You make me out worse than I am, Henry,’ said Mrs. Wititterly, with a
faint smile.
‘I do not, Julia, I do not,’ said Mr. W. ‘The society in which
you move--necessarily move, from your station, connection, and
endowments--is one vortex and whirlpool of the most frightful
excitement. Bless my heart and body, can I ever forget the night you
danced with the baronet’s nephew at the election ball, at Exeter! It was
tremendous.’
‘I always suffer for these triumphs afterwards,’ said Mrs. Wititterly.
‘And for that very reason,’ rejoined her husband, ‘you must have a
companion, in whom there is great gentleness, great sweetness, excessive
sympathy, and perfect repose.’
Here, both Mr. and Mrs. Wititterly, who had talked rather at the Nicklebys
than to each other, left off speaking, and looked at their two hearers,
with an expression of countenance which seemed to say, ‘What do you
think of all this?’
‘Mrs. Wititterly,’ said her husband, addressing himself to Mrs. Nickleby,
‘is sought after and courted by glittering crowds and brilliant circles.
She is excited by the opera, the drama, the fine arts, the--the--the--’
‘The nobility, my love,’ interposed Mrs. Wititterly.
‘The nobility, of course,’ said Mr. Wititterly. ‘And the military. She
forms and expresses an immense variety of opinions on an immense variety
of subjects. If some people in public life were acquainted with Mrs
Wititterly’s real opinion of them, they would not hold their heads,
perhaps, quite as high as they do.’
‘Hush, Henry,’ said the lady; ‘this is scarcely fair.’
‘I mention no names, Julia,’ replied Mr. Wititterly; ‘and nobody is
injured. I merely mention the circumstance to show that you are no
ordinary person, that there is a constant friction perpetually going
on between your mind and your body; and that you must be soothed and
tended. Now let me hear, dispassionately and calmly, what are this young
lady’s qualifications for the office.’
In obedience to this request, the qualifications were all gone through
again, with the addition of many interruptions and cross-questionings
from Mr. Wititterly. It was finally arranged that inquiries should be
made, and a decisive answer addressed to Miss Nickleby under cover
of her uncle, within two days. These conditions agreed upon, the page
showed them down as far as the staircase window; and the big footman,
relieving guard at that point, piloted them in perfect safety to the
street-door.
‘They are very distinguished people, evidently,’ said Mrs. Nickleby, as
she took her daughter’s arm. ‘What a superior person Mrs. Wititterly is!’
‘Do you think so, mama?’ was all Kate’s reply.
‘Why, who can help thinking so, Kate, my love?’ rejoined her mother.
‘She is pale though, and looks much exhausted. I hope she may not be
wearing herself out, but I am very much afraid.’
These considerations led the deep-sighted lady into a calculation of
the probable duration of Mrs. Wititterly’s life, and the chances of the
disconsolate widower bestowing his hand on her daughter. Before reaching
home, she had freed Mrs. Wititterly’s soul from all bodily restraint;
married Kate with great splendour at St George’s, Hanover Square;
and only left undecided the minor question, whether a splendid
French-polished mahogany bedstead should be erected for herself in the
two-pair back of the house in Cadogan Place, or in the three-pair front:
between which apartments she could not quite balance the advantages, and
therefore adjusted the question at last, by determining to leave it to
the decision of her son-in-law.
The inquiries were made. The answer--not to Kate’s very great joy--was
favourable; and at the expiration of a week she betook herself, with all
her movables and valuables, to Mrs. Wititterly’s mansion, where for the
present we will leave her.
CHAPTER 22
Nicholas, accompanied by Smike, sallies forth to seek his Fortune. He
encounters Mr. Vincent Crummles; and who he was, is herein made manifest
The whole capital which Nicholas found himself entitled to, either in
possession, reversion, remainder, or expectancy, after paying his rent
and settling with the broker from whom he had hired his poor furniture,
did not exceed, by more than a few halfpence, the sum of twenty
shillings. And yet he hailed the morning on which he had resolved
to quit London, with a light heart, and sprang from his bed with an
elasticity of spirit which is happily the lot of young persons, or the
world would never be stocked with old ones.
It was a cold, dry, foggy morning in early spring. A few meagre shadows
flitted to and fro in the misty streets, and occasionally there loomed
through the dull vapour, the heavy outline of some hackney coach wending
homewards, which, drawing slowly nearer, rolled jangling by, scattering
the thin crust of frost from its whitened roof, and soon was lost again
in the cloud. At intervals were heard the tread of slipshod feet, and
the chilly cry of the poor sweep as he crept, shivering, to his early
toil; the heavy footfall of the official watcher of the night, pacing
slowly up and down and cursing the tardy hours that still intervened
between him and sleep; the rambling of ponderous carts and waggons; the
roll of the lighter vehicles which carried buyers and sellers to the
different markets; the sound of ineffectual knocking at the doors of
heavy sleepers--all these noises fell upon the ear from time to
time, but all seemed muffled by the fog, and to be rendered almost as
indistinct to the ear as was every object to the sight. The sluggish
darkness thickened as the day came on; and those who had the courage to
rise and peep at the gloomy street from their curtained windows, crept
back to bed again, and coiled themselves up to sleep.
Before even these indications of approaching morning were rife in busy
London, Nicholas had made his way alone to the city, and stood beneath
the windows of his mother’s house. It was dull and bare to see, but it
had light and life for him; for there was at least one heart within
its old walls to which insult or dishonour would bring the same blood
rushing, that flowed in his own veins.
He crossed the road, and raised his eyes to the window of the room where
he knew his sister slept. It was closed and dark. ‘Poor girl,’ thought
Nicholas, ‘she little thinks who lingers here!’
He looked again, and felt, for the moment, almost vexed that Kate was
not there to exchange one word at parting. ‘Good God!’ he thought,
suddenly correcting himself, ‘what a boy I am!’
‘It is better as it is,’ said Nicholas, after he had lounged on, a few
paces, and returned to the same spot. ‘When I left them before, and
could have said goodbye a thousand times if I had chosen, I spared them
the pain of leave-taking, and why not now?’ As he spoke, some fancied
motion of the curtain almost persuaded him, for the instant, that Kate
was at the window, and by one of those strange contradictions of feeling
which are common to us all, he shrunk involuntarily into a doorway, that
she might not see him. He smiled at his own weakness; said ‘God bless
them!’ and walked away with a lighter step.
Smike was anxiously expecting him when he reached his old lodgings, and
so was Newman, who had expended a day’s income in a can of rum and milk
to prepare them for the journey. They had tied up the luggage, Smike
shouldered it, and away they went, with Newman Noggs in company; for he
had insisted on walking as far as he could with them, overnight.
‘Which way?’ asked Newman, wistfully.
‘To Kingston first,’ replied Nicholas.
‘And where afterwards?’ asked Newman. ‘Why won’t you tell me?’
‘Because I scarcely know myself, good friend,’ rejoined Nicholas, laying
his hand upon his shoulder; ‘and if I did, I have neither plan nor
prospect yet, and might shift my quarters a hundred times before you
could possibly communicate with me.’
‘I am afraid you have some deep scheme in your head,’ said Newman,
doubtfully.
‘So deep,’ replied his young friend, ‘that even I can’t fathom it.
Whatever I resolve upon, depend upon it I will write you soon.’
‘You won’t forget?’ said Newman.
‘I am not very likely to,’ rejoined Nicholas. ‘I have not so many
friends that I shall grow confused among the number, and forget my best
one.’
Occupied in such discourse, they walked on for a couple of hours,
as they might have done for a couple of days if Nicholas had not sat
himself down on a stone by the wayside, and resolutely declared his
intention of not moving another step until Newman Noggs turned back.
Having pleaded ineffectually first for another half-mile, and afterwards
for another quarter, Newman was fain to comply, and to shape his course
towards Golden Square, after interchanging many hearty and affectionate
farewells, and many times turning back to wave his hat to the two
wayfarers when they had become mere specks in the distance.
‘Now listen to me, Smike,’ said Nicholas, as they trudged with stout
hearts onwards. ‘We are bound for Portsmouth.’
Smike nodded his head and smiled, but expressed no other emotion; for
whether they had been bound for Portsmouth or Port Royal would have been
alike to him, so they had been bound together.
‘I don’t know much of these matters,’ resumed Nicholas; ‘but Portsmouth
is a seaport town, and if no other employment is to be obtained, I
should think we might get on board some ship. I am young and active, and
could be useful in many ways. So could you.’
‘I hope so,’ replied Smike. ‘When I was at that--you know where I mean?’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Nicholas. ‘You needn’t name the place.’
‘Well, when I was there,’ resumed Smike; his eyes sparkling at the
prospect of displaying his abilities; ‘I could milk a cow, and groom a
horse, with anybody.’
‘Ha!’ said Nicholas, gravely. ‘I am afraid they don’t keep many animals
of either kind on board ship, Smike, and even when they have horses,
that they are not very particular about rubbing them down; still you can
learn to do something else, you know. Where there’s a will, there’s a
way.’
‘And I am very willing,’ said Smike, brightening up again.
‘God knows you are,’ rejoined Nicholas; ‘and if you fail, it shall go
hard but I’ll do enough for us both.’
‘Do we go all the way today?’ asked Smike, after a short silence.
‘That would be too severe a trial, even for your willing legs,’ said
Nicholas, with a good-humoured smile. ‘No. Godalming is some thirty and
odd miles from London--as I found from a map I borrowed--and I purpose
to rest there. We must push on again tomorrow, for we are not rich
enough to loiter. Let me relieve you of that bundle! Come!’
‘No, no,’ rejoined Smike, falling back a few steps. ‘Don’t ask me to
give it up to you.’
‘Why not?’ asked Nicholas.
‘Let me do something for you, at least,’ said Smike. ‘You will never let
me serve you as I ought. You will never know how I think, day and night,
of ways to please you.’
‘You are a foolish fellow to say it, for I know it well, and see it, or