Nicholas Nickleby
‘And just now,’ said Ralph, ‘we had better transact our own, perhaps.’
‘If you please,’ said Squeers.
‘Well,’ resumed Ralph, ‘it’s brief enough; soon broached; and I hope
easily concluded. You have advertised for an able assistant, sir?’
‘Precisely so,’ said Squeers.
‘And you really want one?’
‘Certainly,’ answered Squeers.
‘Here he is!’ said Ralph. ‘My nephew Nicholas, hot from school,
with everything he learnt there, fermenting in his head, and nothing
fermenting in his pocket, is just the man you want.’
‘I am afraid,’ said Squeers, perplexed with such an application from a
youth of Nicholas’s figure, ‘I am afraid the young man won’t suit me.’
‘Yes, he will,’ said Ralph; ‘I know better. Don’t be cast down, sir; you
will be teaching all the young noblemen in Dotheboys Hall in less than a
week’s time, unless this gentleman is more obstinate than I take him to
be.’
‘I fear, sir,’ said Nicholas, addressing Mr. Squeers, ‘that you object to
my youth, and to my not being a Master of Arts?’
‘The absence of a college degree IS an objection,’ replied Squeers,
looking as grave as he could, and considerably puzzled, no less by the
contrast between the simplicity of the nephew and the worldly manner of
the uncle, than by the incomprehensible allusion to the young noblemen
under his tuition.
‘Look here, sir,’ said Ralph; ‘I’ll put this matter in its true light in
two seconds.’
‘If you’ll have the goodness,’ rejoined Squeers.
‘This is a boy, or a youth, or a lad, or a young man, or a hobbledehoy,
or whatever you like to call him, of eighteen or nineteen, or
thereabouts,’ said Ralph.
‘That I see,’ observed the schoolmaster.
‘So do I,’ said Mr. Snawley, thinking it as well to back his new friend
occasionally.
‘His father is dead, he is wholly ignorant of the world, has no
resources whatever, and wants something to do,’ said Ralph. ‘I recommend
him to this splendid establishment of yours, as an opening which will
lead him to fortune if he turns it to proper account. Do you see that?’
‘Everybody must see that,’ replied Squeers, half imitating the sneer
with which the old gentleman was regarding his unconscious relative.
‘I do, of course,’ said Nicholas, eagerly.
‘He does, of course, you observe,’ said Ralph, in the same dry, hard
manner. ‘If any caprice of temper should induce him to cast aside this
golden opportunity before he has brought it to perfection, I consider
myself absolved from extending any assistance to his mother and sister.
Look at him, and think of the use he may be to you in half-a-dozen ways!
Now, the question is, whether, for some time to come at all events, he
won’t serve your purpose better than twenty of the kind of people
you would get under ordinary circumstances. Isn’t that a question for
consideration?’
‘Yes, it is,’ said Squeers, answering a nod of Ralph’s head with a nod
of his own.
‘Good,’ rejoined Ralph. ‘Let me have two words with you.’
The two words were had apart; in a couple of minutes Mr. Wackford Squeers
announced that Mr. Nicholas Nickleby was, from that moment, thoroughly
nominated to, and installed in, the office of first assistant master at
Dotheboys Hall.
‘Your uncle’s recommendation has done it, Mr. Nickleby,’ said Wackford
Squeers.
Nicholas, overjoyed at his success, shook his uncle’s hand warmly, and
could almost have worshipped Squeers upon the spot.
‘He is an odd-looking man,’ thought Nicholas. ‘What of that? Porson was
an odd-looking man, and so was Doctor Johnson; all these bookworms are.’
‘At eight o’clock tomorrow morning, Mr. Nickleby,’ said Squeers, ‘the
coach starts. You must be here at a quarter before, as we take these
boys with us.’
‘Certainly, sir,’ said Nicholas.
‘And your fare down, I have paid,’ growled Ralph. ‘So, you’ll have
nothing to do but keep yourself warm.’
Here was another instance of his uncle’s generosity! Nicholas felt his
unexpected kindness so much, that he could scarcely find words to thank
him; indeed, he had not found half enough, when they took leave of the
schoolmaster, and emerged from the Saracen’s Head gateway.
‘I shall be here in the morning to see you fairly off,’ said Ralph. ‘No
skulking!’
‘Thank you, sir,’ replied Nicholas; ‘I never shall forget this
kindness.’
‘Take care you don’t,’ replied his uncle. ‘You had better go home now,
and pack up what you have got to pack. Do you think you could find your
way to Golden Square first?’
‘Certainly,’ said Nicholas. ‘I can easily inquire.’
‘Leave these papers with my clerk, then,’ said Ralph, producing a small
parcel, ‘and tell him to wait till I come home.’
Nicholas cheerfully undertook the errand, and bidding his worthy
uncle an affectionate farewell, which that warm-hearted old gentleman
acknowledged by a growl, hastened away to execute his commission.
He found Golden Square in due course; Mr. Noggs, who had stepped out
for a minute or so to the public-house, was opening the door with a
latch-key, as he reached the steps.
‘What’s that?’ inquired Noggs, pointing to the parcel.
‘Papers from my uncle,’ replied Nicholas; ‘and you’re to have the
goodness to wait till he comes home, if you please.’
‘Uncle!’ cried Noggs.
‘Mr. Nickleby,’ said Nicholas in explanation.
‘Come in,’ said Newman.
Without another word he led Nicholas into the passage, and thence into
the official pantry at the end of it, where he thrust him into a chair,
and mounting upon his high stool, sat, with his arms hanging, straight
down by his sides, gazing fixedly upon him, as from a tower of
observation.
‘There is no answer,’ said Nicholas, laying the parcel on a table beside
him.
Newman said nothing, but folding his arms, and thrusting his head
forward so as to obtain a nearer view of Nicholas’s face, scanned his
features closely.
‘No answer,’ said Nicholas, speaking very loud, under the impression
that Newman Noggs was deaf.
Newman placed his hands upon his knees, and, without uttering a
syllable, continued the same close scrutiny of his companion’s face.
This was such a very singular proceeding on the part of an utter
stranger, and his appearance was so extremely peculiar, that Nicholas,
who had a sufficiently keen sense of the ridiculous, could not refrain
from breaking into a smile as he inquired whether Mr. Noggs had any
commands for him.
Noggs shook his head and sighed; upon which Nicholas rose, and remarking
that he required no rest, bade him good-morning.
It was a great exertion for Newman Noggs, and nobody knows to this day
how he ever came to make it, the other party being wholly unknown to
him, but he drew a long breath and actually said, out loud, without once
stopping, that if the young gentleman did not object to tell, he should
like to know what his uncle was going to do for him.
Nicholas had not the least objection in the world, but on the contrary
was rather pleased to have an opportunity of talking on the subject
which occupied his thoughts; so, he sat down again, and (his sanguine
imagination warming as he spoke) entered into a fervent and glowing
description of all the honours and advantages to be derived from his
appointment at that seat of learning, Dotheboys Hall.
‘But, what’s the matter--are you ill?’ said Nicholas, suddenly breaking
off, as his companion, after throwing himself into a variety of
uncouth attitudes, thrust his hands under the stool, and cracked his
finger-joints as if he were snapping all the bones in his hands.
Newman Noggs made no reply, but went on shrugging his shoulders and
cracking his finger-joints; smiling horribly all the time, and looking
steadfastly at nothing, out of the tops of his eyes, in a most ghastly
manner.
At first, Nicholas thought the mysterious man was in a fit, but, on
further consideration, decided that he was in liquor, under which
circumstances he deemed it prudent to make off at once. He looked back
when he had got the street-door open. Newman Noggs was still indulging
in the same extraordinary gestures, and the cracking of his fingers
sounded louder that ever.
CHAPTER 5
Nicholas starts for Yorkshire. Of his Leave-taking and his
Fellow-Travellers, and what befell them on the Road
If tears dropped into a trunk were charms to preserve its owner from
sorrow and misfortune, Nicholas Nickleby would have commenced his
expedition under most happy auspices. There was so much to be done, and
so little time to do it in; so many kind words to be spoken, and such
bitter pain in the hearts in which they rose to impede their utterance;
that the little preparations for his journey were made mournfully
indeed. A hundred things which the anxious care of his mother and sister
deemed indispensable for his comfort, Nicholas insisted on leaving
behind, as they might prove of some after use, or might be convertible
into money if occasion required. A hundred affectionate contests on
such points as these, took place on the sad night which preceded his
departure; and, as the termination of every angerless dispute brought
them nearer and nearer to the close of their slight preparations, Kate
grew busier and busier, and wept more silently.
The box was packed at last, and then there came supper, with some little
delicacy provided for the occasion, and as a set-off against the expense
of which, Kate and her mother had feigned to dine when Nicholas was out.
The poor lad nearly choked himself by attempting to partake of it,
and almost suffocated himself in affecting a jest or two, and forcing a
melancholy laugh. Thus, they lingered on till the hour of separating
for the night was long past; and then they found that they might as
well have given vent to their real feelings before, for they could not
suppress them, do what they would. So, they let them have their way, and
even that was a relief.
Nicholas slept well till six next morning; dreamed of home, or of what
was home once--no matter which, for things that are changed or gone will
come back as they used to be, thank God! in sleep--and rose quite brisk
and gay. He wrote a few lines in pencil, to say the goodbye which he was
afraid to pronounce himself, and laying them, with half his scanty stock
of money, at his sister’s door, shouldered his box and crept softly
downstairs.
‘Is that you, Hannah?’ cried a voice from Miss La Creevy’s sitting-room,
whence shone the light of a feeble candle.
‘It is I, Miss La Creevy,’ said Nicholas, putting down the box and
looking in.
‘Bless us!’ exclaimed Miss La Creevy, starting and putting her hand to
her curl-papers. ‘You’re up very early, Mr. Nickleby.’
‘So are you,’ replied Nicholas.
‘It’s the fine arts that bring me out of bed, Mr. Nickleby,’ returned the
lady. ‘I’m waiting for the light to carry out an idea.’
Miss La Creevy had got up early to put a fancy nose into a miniature of
an ugly little boy, destined for his grandmother in the country, who was
expected to bequeath him property if he was like the family.
‘To carry out an idea,’ repeated Miss La Creevy; ‘and that’s the great
convenience of living in a thoroughfare like the Strand. When I want
a nose or an eye for any particular sitter, I have only to look out of
window and wait till I get one.’
‘Does it take long to get a nose, now?’ inquired Nicholas, smiling.
‘Why, that depends in a great measure on the pattern,’ replied Miss La
Creevy. ‘Snubs and Romans are plentiful enough, and there are flats of
all sorts and sizes when there’s a meeting at Exeter Hall; but perfect
aquilines, I am sorry to say, are scarce, and we generally use them for
uniforms or public characters.’
‘Indeed!’ said Nicholas. ‘If I should meet with any in my travels, I’ll
endeavour to sketch them for you.’
‘You don’t mean to say that you are really going all the way down into