Chapter 16

Nicholas Nickleby

by Charles Dickens

Nicholas seeks to employ himself in a New Capacity, and being
unsuccessful, accepts an engagement as Tutor in a Private Family

The first care of Nicholas, next morning, was, to look after
some room in which, until better times dawned upon him, he could
contrive to exist, without trenching upon the hospitality of Newman
Noggs, who would have slept upon the stairs with pleasure, so that
his young friend was accommodated.

The vacant apartment to which the bill in the parlour window
bore reference, appeared, on inquiry, to be a small back-room on the
second floor, reclaimed from the leads, and overlooking a soot-
bespeckled prospect of tiles and chimney-pots. For the letting of
this portion of the house from week to week, on reasonable terms, the
parlour lodger was empowered to treat; he being deputed by the
landlord to dispose of the rooms as they became vacant, and to keep a
sharp look-out that the lodgers didn't run away. As a means of
securing the punctual discharge of which last service he was
permitted to live rent-free, lest he should at any time be tempted to
run away himself.

Of this chamber, Nicholas became the tenant; and having hired a
few common articles of furniture from a neighbouring broker, and paid
the first week's hire in advance, out of a small fund raised by the
conversion of some spare clothes into ready money, he sat himself
down to ruminate upon his prospects, which, like the prospect outside
his window, were sufficiently confined and dingy. As they by no
means improved on better acquaintance, and as familiarity breeds
contempt, he resolved to banish them from his thoughts by dint of
hard walking. So, taking up his hat, and leaving poor Smike to
arrange and rearrange the room with as much delight as if it had been
the costliest palace, he betook himself to the streets, and mingled
with the crowd which thronged them.

Although a man may lose a sense of his own importance when he is
a mere unit among a busy throng, all utterly regardless of him, it by
no means follows that he can dispossess himself, with equal facility,
of a very strong sense of the importance and magnitude of his cares.
The unhappy state of his own affairs was the one idea which occupied
the brain of Nicholas, walk as fast as he would; and when he tried to
dislodge it by speculating on the situation and prospects of the
people who surrounded him, he caught himself, in a few seconds,
contrasting their condition with his own, and gliding almost
imperceptibly back into his old train of thought again.

Occupied in these reflections, as he was making his way along
one of the great public thoroughfares of London, he chanced to raise
his eyes to a blue board, whereon was inscribed, in characters of
gold, 'General Agency Office; for places and situations of all kinds
inquire within.' It was a shop-front, fitted up with a gauze blind
and an inner door; and in the window hung a long and tempting array
of written placards, announcing vacant places of every grade, from a
secretary's to a foot-boy's.

Nicholas halted, instinctively, before this temple of promise,
and ran his eye over the capital-text openings in life which were so
profusely displayed. When he had completed his survey he walked on a
little way, and then back, and then on again; at length, after
pausing irresolutely several times before the door of the General
Agency Office, he made up his mind, and stepped in.

He found himself in a little floor-clothed room, with a high
desk railed off in one corner, behind which sat a lean youth with
cunning eyes and a protruding chin, whose performances in
capital-text darkened the window. He had a thick ledger lying open
before him, and with the fingers of his right hand inserted between
the leaves, and his eyes fixed on a very fat old lady in a
mob-cap--evidently the proprietress of the establishment--who was
airing herself at the fire, seemed to be only waiting her directions
to refer to some entries contained within its rusty clasps.

As there was a board outside, which acquainted the public that
servants-of-all-work were perpetually in waiting to be hired from ten
till four, Nicholas knew at once that some half-dozen strong young
women, each with pattens and an umbrella, who were sitting upon a
form in one corner, were in attendance for that purpose: especially
as the poor things looked anxious and weary. He was not quite so
certain of the callings and stations of two smart young ladies who
were in conversation with the fat lady before the fire, until--having
sat himself down in a corner, and remarked that he would wait until
the other customers had been served--the fat lady resumed the
dialogue which his entrance had interrupted.

'Cook, Tom,' said the fat lady, still airing herself as
aforesaid.

'Cook,' said Tom, turning over some leaves of the ledger.
'Well!'

'Read out an easy place or two,' said the fat lady.

'Pick out very light ones, if you please, young man,' interposed
a genteel female, in shepherd's-plaid boots, who appeared to be the
client.

'"Mrs Marker,"' said Tom, reading, '"Russell Place, Russell
Square; offers eighteen guineas; tea and sugar found. Two in family,
and see very little company. Five servants kept. No man. No
followers."'

'Oh Lor!' tittered the client. 'That won't do. Read another,
young man, will you?'

'"Mrs Wrymug,"' said Tom, '"Pleasant Place, Finsbury. Wages,
twelve guineas. No tea, no sugar. Serious family--"'

'Ah! you needn't mind reading that,' interrupted the client.

'"Three serious footmen,"' said Tom, impressively.

'Three? did you say?' asked the client in an altered tone.

'Three serious footmen,' replied Tom. '"Cook, housemaid, and
nursemaid; each female servant required to join the Little Bethel
Congregation three times every Sunday--with a serious footman. If
the cook is more serious than the footman, she will be expected to
improve the footman; if the footman is more serious than the cook, he
will be expected to improve the cook."'

'I'll take the address of that place,' said the client; 'I don't
know but what it mightn't suit me pretty well.'

'Here's another,' remarked Tom, turning over the leaves.
'"Family of Mr Gallanbile, MP. Fifteen guineas, tea and sugar, and
servants allowed to see male cousins, if godly. Note. Cold dinner
in the kitchen on the Sabbath, Mr Gallanbile being devoted to the
Observance question. No victuals whatever cooked on the Lord's Day,
with the exception of dinner for Mr and Mrs Gallanbile, which, being
a work of piety and necessity, is exempted. Mr Gallanbile dines late
on the day of rest, in order to prevent the sinfulness of the cook's
dressing herself."'

'I don't think that'll answer as well as the other,' said the
client, after a little whispering with her friend. 'I'll take the
other direction, if you please, young man. I can but come back
again, if it don't do.'

Tom made out the address, as requested, and the genteel client,
having satisfied the fat lady with a small fee, meanwhile, went away
accompanied by her friend.

As Nicholas opened his mouth, to request the young man to turn
to letter S, and let him know what secretaryships remained undisposed
of, there came into the office an applicant, in whose favour he
immediately retired, and whose appearance both surprised and
interested him.

This was a young lady who could be scarcely eighteen, of very
slight and delicate figure, but exquisitely shaped, who, walking
timidly up to the desk, made an inquiry, in a very low tone of voice,
relative to some situation as governess, or companion to a lady. She
raised her veil, for an instant, while she preferred the inquiry, and
disclosed a countenance of most uncommon beauty, though shaded by a
cloud of sadness, which, in one so young, was doubly remarkable.
Having received a card of reference to some person on the books, she
made the usual acknowledgment, and glided away.

She was neatly, but very quietly attired; so much so, indeed,
that it seemed as though her dress, if it had been worn by one who
imparted fewer graces of her own to it, might have looked poor and
shabby. Her attendant--for she had one--was a red-faced, round-
eyed, slovenly girl, who, from a certain roughness about the bare
arms that peeped from under her draggled shawl, and the half-washed-
out traces of smut and blacklead which tattooed her countenance, was
clearly of a kin with the servants-of-all-work on the form: between
whom and herself there had passed various grins and glances,
indicative of the freemasonry of the craft.

This girl followed her mistress; and, before Nicholas had
recovered from the first effects of his surprise and admiration, the
young lady was gone. It is not a matter of such complete and utter
improbability as some sober people may think, that he would have
followed them out, had he not been restrained by what passed between
the fat lady and her book-keeper.

'When is she coming again, Tom?' asked the fat lady.

'Tomorrow morning,' replied Tom, mending his pen.

'Where have you sent her to?' asked the fat lady.

'Mrs Clark's,' replied Tom.

'She'll have a nice life of it, if she goes there,' observed the
fat lady, taking a pinch of snuff from a tin box.

Tom made no other reply than thrusting his tongue into his
cheek, and pointing the feather of his pen towards
Nicholas--reminders which elicited from the fat lady an inquiry, of
'Now, sir, what can we do for you?'

Nicholas briefly replied, that he wanted to know whether there
was any such post to be had, as secretary or amanuensis to a
gentleman.

'Any such!' rejoined the mistress; 'a-dozen-such. An't there,
Tom?'

'I should think so,' answered that young gentleman; and as he
said it, he winked towards Nicholas, with a degree of familiarity
which he, no doubt, intended for a rather flattering compliment, but
with which Nicholas was most ungratefully disgusted.

Upon reference to the book, it appeared that the dozen
secretaryships had dwindled down to one. Mr Gregsbury, the great
member of parliament, of Manchester Buildings, Westminster, wanted a
young man, to keep his papers and correspondence in order; and
Nicholas was exactly the sort of young man that Mr Gregsbury
wanted.

'I don't know what the terms are, as he said he'd settle them
himself with the party,' observed the fat lady; 'but they must be
pretty good ones, because he's a member of parliament.'

Inexperienced as he was, Nicholas did not feel quite assured of
the force of this reasoning, or the justice of this conclusion; but
without troubling himself to question it, he took down the address,
and resolved to wait upon Mr Gregsbury without delay.

'I don't know what the number is,' said Tom; 'but Manchester
Buildings isn't a large place; and if the worst comes to the worst it
won't take you very long to knock at all the doors on both sides of
the way till you find him out. I say, what a good-looking gal that
was, wasn't she?'

'What girl?' demanded Nicholas, sternly.

'Oh yes. I know--what gal, eh?' whispered Tom, shutting one
eye, and cocking his chin in the air. 'You didn't see her, you
didn't--I say, don't you wish you was me, when she comes tomorrow
morning?'

Nicholas looked at the ugly clerk, as if he had a mind to reward
his admiration of the young lady by beating the ledger about his
ears, but he refrained, and strode haughtily out of the office;
setting at defiance, in his indignation, those ancient laws of
chivalry, which not only made it proper and lawful for all good
knights to hear the praise of the ladies to whom they were devoted,
but rendered it incumbent upon them to roam about the world, and
knock at head all such matter-of-fact and un-poetical characters, as
declined to exalt, above all the earth, damsels whom they had never
chanced to look upon or hear of--as if that were any excuse!

Thinking no longer of his own misfortunes, but wondering what
could be those of the beautiful girl he had seen, Nicholas, with many
wrong turns, and many inquiries, and almost as many misdirections,
bent his steps towards the place whither he had been directed.

Within the precincts of the ancient city of Westminster, and
within half a quarter of a mile of its ancient sanctuary, is a narrow
and dirty region, the sanctuary of the smaller members of Parliament
in modern days. It is all comprised in one street of gloomy lodging-
houses, from whose windows, in vacation-time, there frown long
melancholy rows of bills, which say, as plainly as did the
countenances of their occupiers, ranged on ministerial and opposition
benches in the session which slumbers with its fathers, 'To Let', 'To
Let'. In busier periods of the year these bills disappear, and the
houses swarm with legislators. There are legislators in the
parlours, in the first floor, in the second, in the third, in the
garrets; the small apartments reek with the breath of deputations and
delegates. In damp weather, the place is rendered close, by the
steams of moist acts of parliament and frouzy petitions; general
postmen grow faint as they enter its infected limits, and shabby
figures in quest of franks, flit restlessly to and fro like the
troubled ghosts of Complete Letter-writers departed. This is
Manchester Buildings; and here, at all hours of the night, may be
heard the rattling of latch-keys in their respective keyholes: with
now and then--when a gust of wind sweeping across the water which
washes the Buildings' feet, impels the sound towards its
entrance--the weak, shrill voice of some young member practising
tomorrow's speech. All the livelong day, there is a grinding of
organs and clashing and clanging of little boxes of music; for
Manchester Buildings is an eel-pot, which has no outlet but its
awkward mouth--a case-bottle which has no thoroughfare, and a short
and narrow neck--and in this respect it may be typical of the fate of
some few among its more adventurous residents, who, after wriggling
themselves into Parliament by violent efforts and contortions, find
that it, too, is no thoroughfare for them; that, like Manchester
Buildings, it leads to nothing beyond itself; and that they are fain
at last to back out, no wiser, no richer, not one whit more famous,
than they went in.

Into Manchester Buildings Nicholas turned, with the address of
the great Mr Gregsbury in his hand. As there was a stream of people
pouring into a shabby house not far from the entrance, he waited
until they had made their way in, and then making up to the servant,
ventured to inquire if he knew where Mr Gregsbury lived.

The servant was a very pale, shabby boy, who looked as if he had
slept underground from his infancy, as very likely he had. 'Mr
Gregsbury?' said he; 'Mr Gregsbury lodges here. It's all right. Come
in!'

Nicholas thought he might as well get in while he could, so in
he walked; and he had no sooner done so, than the boy shut the door,
and made off.

This was odd enough: but what was more embarrassing was, that
all along the passage, and all along the narrow stairs, blocking up
the window, and making the dark entry darker still, was a confused
crowd of persons with great importance depicted in their looks; who
were, to all appearance, waiting in silent expectation of some coming
event. From time to time, one man would whisper his neighbour, or a
little group would whisper together, and then the whisperers would
nod fiercely to each other, or give their heads a relentless shake,
as if they were bent upon doing something very desperate, and were
determined not to be put off, whatever happened.

As a few minutes elapsed without anything occurring to explain
this phenomenon, and as he felt his own position a peculiarly
uncomfortable one, Nicholas was on the point of seeking some
information from the man next him, when a sudden move was visible on
the stairs, and a voice was heard to cry, 'Now, gentleman, have the
goodness to walk up!'

So far from walking up, the gentlemen on the stairs began to
walk down with great alacrity, and to entreat, with extraordinary
politeness, that the gentlemen nearest the street would go first; the
gentlemen nearest the street retorted, with equal courtesy, that they
couldn't think of such a thing on any account; but they did it,
without thinking of it, inasmuch as the other gentlemen pressing some
half-dozen (among whom was Nicholas) forward, and closing up behind,
pushed them, not merely up the stairs, but into the very sitting-room
of Mr Gregsbury, which they were thus compelled to enter with most
unseemly precipitation, and without the means of retreat; the press
behind them, more than filling the apartment.

'Gentlemen,' said Mr Gregsbury, 'you are welcome. I am rejoiced
to see you.'

For a gentleman who was rejoiced to see a body of visitors, Mr
Gregsbury looked as uncomfortable as might be; but perhaps this was
occasioned by senatorial gravity, and a statesmanlike habit of
keeping his feelings under control. He was a tough, burly, thick-
headed gentleman, with a loud voice, a pompous manner, a tolerable
command of sentences with no meaning in them, and, in short, every
requisite for a very good member indeed.

'Now, gentlemen,' said Mr Gregsbury, tossing a great bundle of
papers into a wicker basket at his feet, and throwing himself back in
his chair with his arms over the elbows, 'you are dissatisfied with
my conduct, I see by the newspapers.'

'Yes, Mr Gregsbury, we are,' said a plump old gentleman in a
violent heat, bursting out of the throng, and planting himself in the
front.

'Do my eyes deceive me,' said Mr Gregsbury, looking towards the
speaker, 'or is that my old friend Pugstyles?'

'I am that man, and no other, sir,' replied the plump old
gentleman.

'Give me your hand, my worthy friend,' said Mr Gregsbury.
'Pugstyles, my dear friend, I am very sorry to see you here.'

'I am very sorry to be here, sir,' said Mr Pugstyles; 'but your
conduct, Mr Gregsbury, has rendered this deputation from your
constituents imperatively necessary.'

'My conduct, Pugstyles,' said Mr Gregsbury, looking round upon
the deputation with gracious magnanimity--'my conduct has been, and
ever will be, regulated by a sincere regard for the true and real
interests of this great and happy country. Whether I look at home,
or abroad; whether I behold the peaceful industrious communities of
our island home: her rivers covered with steamboats, her roads with
locomotives, her streets with cabs, her skies with balloons of a
power and magnitude hitherto unknown in the history of aeronautics in
this or any other nation--I say, whether I look merely at home, or,
stretching my eyes farther, contemplate the boundless prospect of
conquest and possession--achieved by British perseverance and British
valour--which is outspread before me, I clasp my hands, and turning
my eyes to the broad expanse above my head, exclaim, "Thank Heaven, I
am a Briton!"'

The time had been, when this burst of enthusiasm would have been
cheered to the very echo; but now, the deputation received it with
chilling coldness. The general impression seemed to be, that as an
explanation of Mr Gregsbury's political conduct, it did not enter
quite enough into detail; and one gentleman in the rear did not
scruple to remark aloud, that, for his purpose, it savoured rather
too much of a 'gammon' tendency.

'The meaning of that term--gammon,' said Mr Gregsbury, 'is
unknown to me. If it means that I grow a little too fervid, or
perhaps even hyperbolical, in extolling my native land, I admit the
full justice of the remark. I am proud of this free and happy
country. My form dilates, my eye glistens, my breast heaves, my
heart swells, my bosom burns, when I call to mind her greatness and
her glory.'

'We wish, sir,' remarked Mr Pugstyles, calmly, 'to ask you a few
questions.'

'If you please, gentlemen; my time is yours--and my
country's--and my country's--' said Mr Gregsbury.

This permission being conceded, Mr Pugstyles put on his
spectacles, and referred to a written paper which he drew from his
pocket; whereupon nearly every other member of the deputation pulled
a written paper from his pocket, to check Mr Pugstyles off, as he
read the questions.

This done, Mr Pugstyles proceeded to business.

'Question number one.--Whether, sir, you did not give a
voluntary pledge previous to your election, that in event of your
being returned, you would immediately put down the practice of
coughing and groaning in the House of Commons. And whether you did
not submit to be coughed and groaned down in the very first debate of
the session, and have since made no effort to effect a reform in this
respect? Whether you did not also pledge yourself to astonish the
government, and make them shrink in their shoes? And whether you
have astonished them, and made them shrink in their shoes, or
not?'

'Go on to the next one, my dear Pugstyles,' said Mr
Gregsbury.

'Have you any explanation to offer with reference to that
question, sir?' asked Mr Pugstyles.

'Certainly not,' said Mr Gregsbury.

The members of the deputation looked fiercely at each other, and
afterwards at the member. 'Dear Pugstyles' having taken a very long
stare at Mr Gregsbury over the tops of his spectacles, resumed his
list of inquiries.

'Question number two.--Whether, sir, you did not likewise give a
voluntary pledge that you would support your colleague on every
occasion; and whether you did not, the night before last, desert him
and vote upon the other side, because the wife of a leader on that
other side had invited Mrs Gregsbury to an evening party?'

'Go on,' said Mr Gregsbury.

'Nothing to say on that, either, sir?' asked the spokesman.

'Nothing whatever,' replied Mr Gregsbury. The deputation, who
had only seen him at canvassing or election time, were struck dumb by
his coolness. He didn't appear like the same man; then he was all
milk and honey; now he was all starch and vinegar. But men are so
different at different times!

'Question number three--and last,' said Mr Pugstyles,
emphatically. 'Whether, sir, you did not state upon the hustings,
that it was your firm and determined intention to oppose everything
proposed; to divide the house upon every question, to move for
returns on every subject, to place a motion on the books every day,
and, in short, in your own memorable words, to play the very devil
with everything and everybody?' With this comprehensive inquiry, Mr
Pugstyles folded up his list of questions, as did all his backers.

Mr Gregsbury reflected, blew his nose, threw himself further
back in his chair, came forward again, leaning his elbows on the
table, made a triangle with his two thumbs and his two forefingers,
and tapping his nose with the apex thereof, replied (smiling as he
said it), 'I deny everything.'

At this unexpected answer, a hoarse murmur arose from the
deputation; and the same gentleman who had expressed an opinion
relative to the gammoning nature of the introductory speech, again
made a monosyllabic demonstration, by growling out 'Resign!' Which
growl being taken up by his fellows, swelled into a very earnest and
general remonstrance.

'I am requested, sir, to express a hope,' said Mr Pugstyles,
with a distant bow, 'that on receiving a requisition to that effect
from a great majority of your constituents, you will not object at
once to resign your seat in favour of some candidate whom they think
they can better trust.'

To this, Mr Gregsbury read the following reply, which,
anticipating the request, he had composed in the form of a letter,
whereof copies had been made to send round to the newspapers.

'My Dear Mr Pugstyles,

'Next to the welfare of our beloved island--this great and free
and happy country, whose powers and resources are, I sincerely
believe, illimitable--I value that noble independence which is an
Englishman's proudest boast, and which I fondly hope to bequeath to
my children, untarnished and unsullied. Actuated by no personal
motives, but moved only by high and great constitutional
considerations; which I will not attempt to explain, for they are
really beneath the comprehension of those who have not made
themselves masters, as I have, of the intricate and arduous study of
politics; I would rather keep my seat, and intend doing so.

'Will you do me the favour to present my compliments to the
constituent body, and acquaint them with this circumstance?

'With great esteem,
'My dear Mr Pugstyles,
'&c.&c.'

'Then you will not resign, under any circumstances?' asked the
spokesman.

Mr Gregsbury smiled, and shook his head.

'Then, good-morning, sir,' said Pugstyles, angrily.

'Heaven bless you!' said Mr Gregsbury. And the deputation, with
many growls and scowls, filed off as quickly as the narrowness of the
staircase would allow of their getting down.

The last man being gone, Mr Gregsbury rubbed his hands and
chuckled, as merry fellows will, when they think they have said or
done a more than commonly good thing; he was so engrossed in this
self- congratulation, that he did not observe that Nicholas had been
left behind in the shadow of the window-curtains, until that young
gentleman, fearing he might otherwise overhear some soliloquy
intended to have no listeners, coughed twice or thrice, to attract
the member's notice.

'What's that?' said Mr Gregsbury, in sharp accents.

Nicholas stepped forward, and bowed.

'What do you do here, sir?' asked Mr Gregsbury; 'a spy upon my
privacy! A concealed voter! You have heard my answer, sir. Pray
follow the deputation.'

'I should have done so, if I had belonged to it, but I do not,'
said Nicholas.

'Then how came you here, sir?' was the natural inquiry of Mr
Gregsbury, MP. 'And where the devil have you come from, sir?' was
the question which followed it.

'I brought this card from the General Agency Office, sir,' said
Nicholas, 'wishing to offer myself as your secretary, and
understanding that you stood in need of one.'

'That's all you have come for, is it?' said Mr Gregsbury, eyeing
him in some doubt.

Nicholas replied in the affirmative.

'You have no connection with any of those rascally papers have
you?' said Mr Gregsbury. 'You didn't get into the room, to hear what
was going forward, and put it in print, eh?'

'I have no connection, I am sorry to say, with anything at
present,' rejoined Nicholas,--politely enough, but quite at his
ease.

'Oh!' said Mr Gregsbury. 'How did you find your way up here,
then?'

Nicholas related how he had been forced up by the deputation.

'That was the way, was it?' said Mr Gregsbury. 'Sit down.'

Nicholas took a chair, and Mr Gregsbury stared at him for a long
time, as if to make certain, before he asked any further questions,
that there were no objections to his outward appearance.

'You want to be my secretary, do you?' he said at length.

'I wish to be employed in that capacity, sir,' replied
Nicholas.

'Well,' said Mr Gregsbury; 'now what can you do?'

'I suppose,' replied Nicholas, smiling, 'that I can do what
usually falls to the lot of other secretaries.'

'What's that?' inquired Mr Gregsbury.

'What is it?' replied Nicholas.

'Ah! What is it?' retorted the member, looking shrewdly at him,
with his head on one side.

'A secretary's duties are rather difficult to define, perhaps,'
said Nicholas, considering. 'They include, I presume,
correspondence?'

'Good,' interposed Mr Gregsbury.

'The arrangement of papers and documents?'

'Very good.'

'Occasionally, perhaps, the writing from your dictation; and
possibly, sir,' said Nicholas, with a half-smile, 'the copying of
your speech for some public journal, when you have made one of more
than usual importance.'

'Certainly,' rejoined Mr Gregsbury. 'What else?'

'Really,' said Nicholas, after a moment's reflection, 'I am not
able, at this instant, to recapitulate any other duty of a secretary,
beyond the general one of making himself as agreeable and useful to
his employer as he can, consistently with his own respectability, and
without overstepping that line of duties which he undertakes to
perform, and which the designation of his office is usually
understood to imply.'

Mr Gregsbury looked fixedly at Nicholas for a short time, and
then glancing warily round the room, said in a suppressed voice:

'This is all very well, Mr--what is your name?'

'Nickleby.'

'This is all very well, Mr Nickleby, and very proper, so far as
it goes--so far as it goes, but it doesn't go far enough. There are
other duties, Mr Nickleby, which a secretary to a parliamentary
gentleman must never lose sight of. I should require to be crammed,
sir.'

'I beg your pardon,' interposed Nicholas, doubtful whether he
had heard aright.

'--To be crammed, sir,' repeated Mr Gregsbury.

'May I beg your pardon again, if I inquire what you mean, sir?'
said Nicholas.

'My meaning, sir, is perfectly plain,' replied Mr Gregsbury with
a solemn aspect. 'My secretary would have to make himself master of
the foreign policy of the world, as it is mirrored in the newspapers;
to run his eye over all accounts of public meetings, all leading
articles, and accounts of the proceedings of public bodies; and to
make notes of anything which it appeared to him might be made a point
of, in any little speech upon the question of some petition lying on
the table, or anything of that kind. Do you understand?'

'I think I do, sir,' replied Nicholas.

'Then,' said Mr Gregsbury, 'it would be necessary for him to
make himself acquainted, from day to day, with newspaper paragraphs
on passing events; such as "Mysterious disappearance, and supposed
suicide of a potboy," or anything of that sort, upon which I might
found a question to the Secretary of State for the Home Department.
Then, he would have to copy the question, and as much as I remembered
of the answer (including a little compliment about independence and
good sense); and to send the manuscript in a frank to the local
paper, with perhaps half-a-dozen lines of leader, to the effect, that
I was always to be found in my place in parliament, and never shrunk
from the responsible and arduous duties, and so forth. You see?'

Nicholas bowed.

'Besides which,' continued Mr Gregsbury, 'I should expect him,
now and then, to go through a few figures in the printed tables, and
to pick out a few results, so that I might come out pretty well on
timber duty questions, and finance questions, and so on; and I should
like him to get up a few little arguments about the disastrous
effects of a return to cash payments and a metallic currency, with a
touch now and then about the exportation of bullion, and the Emperor
of Russia, and bank notes, and all that kind of thing, which it's
only necessary to talk fluently about, because nobody understands it.
Do you take me?'

'I think I understand,' said Nicholas.

'With regard to such questions as are not political,' continued
Mr Gregsbury, warming; 'and which one can't be expected to care a
curse about, beyond the natural care of not allowing inferior people
to be as well off as ourselves--else where are our privileges?--I
should wish my secretary to get together a few little flourishing
speeches, of a 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.'

'It's very much changed since my time, then,' said the
collector, 'very much.'

'Was it a dismal one in your time?' asked Nicholas, scarcely
able to repress a smile.

'Very,' replied Mr Lillyvick, with some vehemence of manner.
'It's the war time that I speak of; the last war. It may be a
cheerful language. I should be sorry to contradict anybody; but I
can only say that I've heard the French prisoners, who were natives,
and ought to know how to speak it, talking in such a dismal manner,
that it made one miserable to hear them. Ay, that I have, fifty
times, sir--fifty times!'

Mr Lillyvick was waxing so cross, that Mrs Kenwigs thought it
expedient to motion to Nicholas not to say anything; and it was not
until Miss Petowker had practised several blandishments, to soften
the excellent old gentleman, that he deigned to break silence by
asking,

'What's the water in French, sir?'

'L'eau,' replied Nicholas.

'Ah!' said Mr Lillyvick, shaking his head mournfully, 'I thought
as much. Lo, eh? I don't think anything of that language--nothing
at all.'

'I suppose the children may begin, uncle?' said Mrs Kenwigs.

'Oh yes; they may begin, my dear,' replied the collector,
discontentedly. 'I have no wish to prevent them.'

This permission being conceded, the four Miss Kenwigses sat in a
row, with their tails all one way, and Morleena at the top: while
Nicholas, taking the book, began his preliminary explanations. Miss
Petowker and Mrs Kenwigs looked on, in silent admiration, broken only
by the whispered assurances of the latter, that Morleena would have
it all by heart in no time; and Mr Lillyvick regarded the group with
frowning and attentive eyes, lying in wait for something upon which
he could open a fresh discussion on the language.