Chapter 3

by Charles Dickens

　　Mr Ralph Nickleby receives Sad Tidings of his Brother, but bears upnobly against the Intelligence communicated to him. The Reader isinformed how he liked Nicholas, who is herein introduced, and howkindly he proposed to make his Fortune at onceHaving rendered his zealous assistance towards dispatching thelunch, with all that promptitude and energy which are among the mostimportant qualities that men of business can possess, Mr RalphNickleby took a cordial farewell of his fellow-speculators, and benthis steps westward in unwonted good humour. As he passed St Paul'she stepped aside into a doorway to set his watch, and with his handon the key and his eye on the cathedral dial, was intent upon sodoing, when a man suddenly stopped before him. It was Newman Noggs.'Ah! Newman,' said Mr Nickleby, looking up as he pursued hisoccupation. 'The letter about the mortgage has come, has it? Ithought it would.''Wrong,' replied Newman.'What! and nobody called respecting it?' inquired Mr Nickleby,pausing. Noggs shook his head.'What has come, then?' inquired Mr Nickleby.'I have,' said Newman.'What else?' demanded the master, sternly.'This,' said Newman, drawing a sealed letter slowly from his pocket.'Post-mark, Strand, black wax, black border, woman's hand, C. N. inthe corner.''Black wax?' said Mr Nickleby, glancing at the letter. 'I knowsomething of that hand, too. Newman, I shouldn't be surprised if mybrother were dead.''I don't think you would,' said Newman, quietly.'Why not, sir?' demanded Mr Nickleby.'You never are surprised,' replied Newman, 'that's all.'Mr Nickleby snatched the letter from his assistant, and fixing acold look upon him, opened, read it, put it in his pocket, andhaving now hit the time to a second, began winding up his watch.'It is as I expected, Newman,' said Mr Nickleby, while he was thusengaged. 'He is dead. Dear me! Well, that's sudden thing. Ishouldn't have thought it, really.' With these touching expressionsof sorrow, Mr Nickleby replaced his watch in his fob, and, fittingon his gloves to a nicety, turned upon his way, and walked slowlywestward with his hands behind him.'Children alive?' inquired Noggs, stepping up to him.'Why, that's the very thing,' replied Mr Nickleby, as though histhoughts were about them at that moment. 'They are both alive.''Both!' repeated Newman Noggs, in a low voice.'And the widow, too,' added Mr Nickleby, 'and all three in London,confound them; all three here, Newman.'Newman fell a little behind his master, and his face was curiouslytwisted as by a spasm; but whether of paralysis, or grief, or inwardlaughter, nobody but himself could possibly explain. The expressionof a man's face is commonly a help to his thoughts, or glossary onhis speech; but the countenance of Newman Noggs, in his ordinarymoods, was a problem which no stretch of ingenuity could solve.'Go home!' said Mr Nickleby, after they had walked a few paces:looking round at the clerk as if he were his dog. The words werescarcely uttered when Newman darted across the road, slunk among thecrowd, and disappeared in an instant.'Reasonable, certainly!' muttered Mr Nickleby to himself, as hewalked on, 'very reasonable! My brother never did anything for me,and I never expected it; the breath is no sooner out of his bodythan I am to be looked to, as the support of a great hearty woman,and a grown boy and girl. What are they to me! I never saw them.'Full of these, and many other reflections of a similar kind, MrNickleby made the best of his way to the Strand, and, referring tohis letter as if to ascertain the number of the house he wanted,stopped at a private door about half-way down that crowdedthoroughfare.A miniature painter lived there, for there was a large gilt framescrewed upon the street-door, in which were displayed, upon a blackvelvet ground, two portraits of naval dress coats with faces lookingout of them, and telescopes attached; one of a young gentleman in avery vermilion uniform, flourishing a sabre; and one of a literarycharacter with a high forehead, a pen and ink, six books, and acurtain. There was, moreover, a touching representation of a younglady reading a manuscript in an unfathomable forest, and a charmingwhole length of a large-headed little boy, sitting on a stool withhis legs fore-shortened to the size of salt-spoons. Besides theseworks of art, there were a great many heads of old ladies andgentlemen smirking at each other out of blue and brown skies, and anelegantly written card of terms with an embossed border.Mr Nickleby glanced at these frivolities with great contempt, andgave a double knock, which, having been thrice repeated, wasanswered by a servant girl with an uncommonly dirty face.'Is Mrs Nickleby at home, girl?' demanded Ralph sharply.'Her name ain't Nickleby,' said the girl, 'La Creevy, you mean.'Mr Nickleby looked very indignant at the handmaid on being thuscorrected, and demanded with much asperity what she meant; which shewas about to state, when a female voice proceeding from aperpendicular staircase at the end of the passage, inquired who waswanted.'Mrs Nickleby,' said Ralph.'It's the second floor, Hannah,' said the same voice; 'what a stupidthing you are! Is the second floor at home?''Somebody went out just now, but I think it was the attic which hadbeen a cleaning of himself,' replied the girl.'You had better see,' said the invisible female. 'Show thegentleman where the bell is, and tell him he mustn't knock doubleknocks for the second floor; I can't allow a knock except when thebell's broke, and then it must be two single ones.''Here,' said Ralph, walking in without more parley, 'I beg yourpardon; is that Mrs La what's-her-name?''Creevy--La Creevy,' replied the voice, as a yellow headdress bobbedover the banisters.'I'll speak to you a moment, ma'am, with your leave,' said Ralph.The voice replied that the gentleman was to walk up; but he hadwalked up before it spoke, and stepping into the first floor, wasreceived by the wearer of the yellow head-dress, who had a gown tocorrespond, and was of much the same colour herself. Miss La Creevywas a mincing young lady of fifty, and Miss La Creevy's apartmentwas the gilt frame downstairs on a larger scale and somethingdirtier.'Hem!' said Miss La Creevy, coughing delicately behind her blacksilk mitten. 'A miniature, I presume. A very strongly-markedcountenance for the purpose, sir. Have you ever sat before?''You mistake my purpose, I see, ma'am,' replied Mr Nickleby, in hisusual blunt fashion. 'I have no money to throw away on miniatures,ma'am, and nobody to give one to (thank God) if I had. Seeing youon the stairs, I wanted to ask a question of you, about some lodgershere.'Miss La Creevy coughed once more--this cough was to conceal herdisappointment--and said, 'Oh, indeed!''I infer from what you said to your servant, that the floor abovebelongs to you, ma'am,' said Mr Nickleby.Yes it did, Miss La Creevy replied. The upper part of the housebelonged to her, and as she had no necessity for the second-floorrooms just then, she was in the habit of letting them. Indeed,there was a lady from the country and her two children in them, atthat present speaking.'A widow, ma'am?' said Ralph.'Yes, she is a widow,' replied the lady.'A poor widow, ma'am,' said Ralph, with a powerful emphasis on thatlittle adjective which conveys so much.'Well, I'm afraid she is poor,' rejoined Miss La Creevy.'I happen to know that she is, ma'am,' said Ralph. 'Now, whatbusiness has a poor widow in such a house as this, ma'am?''Very true,' replied Miss La Creevy, not at all displeased with thisimplied compliment to the apartments. 'Exceedingly true.''I know her circumstances intimately, ma'am,' said Ralph; 'in fact,I am a relation of the family; and I should recommend you not tokeep them here, ma'am.''I should hope, if there was any incompatibility to meet thepecuniary obligations,' said Miss La Creevy with another cough,'that the lady's family would--''No they wouldn't, ma'am,' interrupted Ralph, hastily. 'Don't thinkit.''If I am to understand that,' said Miss La Creevy, 'the case wears avery different appearance.''You may understand it then, ma'am,' said Ralph, 'and make yourarrangements accordingly. I am the family, ma'am--at least, Ibelieve I am the only relation they have, and I think it right thatyou should know I can't support them in their extravagances. Howlong have they taken these lodgings for?''Only from week to week,' replied Miss La Creevy. 'Mrs Nicklebypaid the first week in advance.''Then you had better get them out at the end of it,' said Ralph.'They can't do better than go back to the country, ma'am; they arein everybody's way here.''Certainly,' said Miss La Creevy, rubbing her hands, 'if MrsNickleby took the apartments without the means of paying for them,it was very unbecoming a lady.''Of course it was, ma'am,' said Ralph.'And naturally,' continued Miss La Creevy, 'I who am, at present--hem--an unprotected female, cannot afford to lose by the apartments.''Of course you can't, ma'am,' replied Ralph.'Though at the same time,' added Miss La Creevy, who was plainlywavering between her good-nature and her interest, 'I have nothingwhatever to say against the lady, who is extremely pleasant andaffable, though, poor thing, she seems terribly low in her spirits;nor against the young people either, for nicer, or better-behavedyoung people cannot be.''Very well, ma'am,' said Ralph, turning to the door, for theseencomiums on poverty irritated him; 'I have done my duty, andperhaps more than I ought: of course nobody will thank me for sayingwhat I have.''I am sure I am very much obliged to you at least, sir,' said MissLa Creevy in a gracious manner. 'Would you do me the favour to lookat a few specimens of my portrait painting?''You're very good, ma'am,' said Mr Nickleby, making off with greatspeed; 'but as I have a visit to pay upstairs, and my time isprecious, I really can't.''At any other time when you are passing, I shall be most happy,'said Miss La Creevy. 'Perhaps you will have the kindness to take acard of terms with you? Thank you--good-morning!''Good-morning, ma'am,' said Ralph, shutting the door abruptly afterhim to prevent any further conversation. 'Now for my sister-in-law.Bah!'Climbing up another perpendicular flight, composed with greatmechanical ingenuity of nothing but corner stairs, Mr Ralph Nicklebystopped to take breath on the landing, when he was overtaken by thehandmaid, whom the politeness of Miss La Creevy had dispatched toannounce him, and who had apparently been making a variety ofunsuccessful attempts, since their last interview, to wipe her dirtyface clean, upon an apron much dirtier.'What name?' said the girl.'Nickleby,' replied Ralph.'Oh! Mrs Nickleby,' said the girl, throwing open the door, 'here'sMr Nickleby.'A lady in deep mourning rose as Mr Ralph Nickleby entered, butappeared incapable of advancing to meet him, and leant upon the armof a slight but very beautiful girl of about seventeen, who had beensitting by her. A youth, who appeared a year or two older, steppedforward and saluted Ralph as his uncle.'Oh,' growled Ralph, with an ill-favoured frown, 'you are Nicholas,I suppose?''That is my name, sir,' replied the youth.'Put my hat down,' said Ralph, imperiously. 'Well, ma'am, how doyou do? You must bear up against sorrow, ma'am; I always do.''Mine was no common loss!' said Mrs Nickleby, applying herhandkerchief to her eyes.'It was no uncommon loss, ma'am,' returned Ralph, as he coollyunbuttoned his spencer. 'Husbands die every day, ma'am, and wivestoo.''And brothers also, sir,' said Nicholas, with a glance of indignation.'Yes, sir, and puppies, and pug-dogs likewise,' replied his uncle,taking a chair. 'You didn't mention in your letter what mybrother's complaint was, ma'am.''The doctors could attribute it to no particular disease,' said MrsNickleby; shedding tears. 'We have too much reason to fear that hedied of a broken heart.''Pooh!' said Ralph, 'there's no such thing. I can understand aman's dying of a broken neck, or suffering from a broken arm, or abroken head, or a broken leg, or a broken nose; but a broken heart!--nonsense, it's the cant of the day. If a man can't pay his debts,he dies of a broken heart, and his widow's a martyr.''Some people, I believe, have no hearts to break,' observedNicholas, quietly.'How old is this boy, for God's sake?' inquired Ralph, wheeling backhis chair, and surveying his nephew from head to foot with intensescorn.'Nicholas is very nearly nineteen,' replied the widow.'Nineteen, eh!' said Ralph; 'and what do you mean to do for yourbread, sir?''Not to live upon my mother,' replied Nicholas, his heart swellingas he spoke.'You'd have little enough to live upon, if you did,' retorted theuncle, eyeing him contemptuously.'Whatever it be,' said Nicholas, flushed with anger, 'I shall notlook to you to make it more.''Nicholas, my dear, recollect yourself,' remonstrated Mrs Nickleby.'Dear Nicholas, pray,' urged the young lady.'Hold your tongue, sir,' said Ralph. 'Upon my word! Finebeginnings, Mrs Nickleby--fine beginnings!'Mrs Nickleby made no other reply than entreating Nicholas by agesture to keep silent; and the uncle and nephew looked at eachother for some seconds without speaking. The face of the old manwas stern, hard-featured, and forbidding; that of the young one,open, handsome, and ingenuous. The old man's eye was keen with thetwinklings of avarice and cunning; the young man's bright with thelight of intelligence and spirit. His figure was somewhat slight,but manly and well formed; and, apart from all the grace of youthand comeliness, there was an emanation from the warm young heart inhis look and bearing which kept the old man down.However striking such a contrast as this may be to lookers-on, noneever feel it with half the keenness or acuteness of perfection withwhich it strikes to the very soul of him whose inferiority it marks.It galled Ralph to the heart's core, and he hated Nicholas from thathour.The mutual inspection was at length brought to a close by Ralphwithdrawing his eyes, with a great show of disdain, and callingNicholas 'a boy.' This word is much used as a term of reproach byelderly gentlemen towards their juniors: probably with the view ofdeluding society into the belief that if they could be young again,they wouldn't on any account.'Well, ma'am,' said Ralph, impatiently, 'the creditors haveadministered, you tell me, and there's nothing left for you?''Nothing,' replied Mrs Nickleby.'And you spent what little money you had, in coming all the way toLondon, to see what I could do for you?' pursued Ralph.'I hoped,' faltered Mrs Nickleby, 'that you might have anopportunity of doing something for your brother's children. It washis dying wish that I should appeal to you in their behalf.''I don't know how it is,' muttered Ralph, walking up and down theroom, 'but whenever a man dies without any property of his own, healways seems to think he has a right to dispose of other people's.What is your daughter fit for, ma'am?''Kate has been well educated,' sobbed Mrs Nickleby. 'Tell youruncle, my dear, how far you went in French and extras.'The poor girl was about to murmur something, when her uncle stoppedher, very unceremoniously.'We must try and get you apprenticed at some boarding-school,' saidRalph. 'You have not been brought up too delicately for that, Ihope?''No, indeed, uncle,' replied the weeping girl. 'I will try to doanything that will gain me a home and bread.''Well, well,' said Ralph, a little softened, either by his niece'sbeauty or her distress (stretch a point, and say the latter). 'Youmust try it, and if the life is too hard, perhaps dressmaking ortambour-work will come lighter. Have you ever done anything, sir?'(turning to his nephew.)'No,' replied Nicholas, bluntly.'No, I thought not!' said Ralph. 'This is the way my brotherbrought up his children, ma'am.''Nicholas has not long completed such education as his poor fathercould give him,' rejoined Mrs Nickleby, 'and he was thinking of--''Of making something of him someday,' said Ralph. 'The old story;always thinking, and never doing. If my brother had been a man ofactivity and prudence, he might have left you a rich woman, ma'am:and if he had turned his son into the world, as my father turned me,when I wasn't as old as that boy by a year and a half, he would havebeen in a situation to help you, instead of being a burden upon you,and increasing your distress. My brother was a thoughtless,inconsiderate man, Mrs Nickleby, and nobody, I am sure, can havebetter reason to feel that, than you.'This appeal set the widow upon thinking that perhaps she might havemade a more successful venture with her one thousand pounds, andthen she began to reflect what a comfortable sum it would have beenjust then; which dismal thoughts made her tears flow faster, and inthe excess of these griefs she (being a well-meaning woman enough,but weak withal) fell first to deploring her hard fate, and then toremarking, with many sobs, that to be sure she had been a slave topoor Nicholas, and had often told him she might have married better(as indeed she had, very often), and that she never knew in hislifetime how the money went, but that if he had confided in her theymight all have been better off that day; with other bitterrecollections common to most married ladies, either during theircoverture, or afterwards, or at both periods. Mrs Nicklebyconcluded by lamenting that the dear departed had never deigned toprofit by her advice, save on one occasion; which was a strictlyveracious statement, inasmuch as he had only acted upon it once, andhad ruined himself in consequence.Mr Ralph Nickleby heard all this with a half-smile; and when thewidow had finished, quietly took up the subject where it had beenleft before the above outbreak.'Are you willing to work, sir?' he inquired, frowning on his nephew.'Of course I am,' replied Nicholas haughtily.'Then see here, sir,' said his uncle. 'This caught my eye thismorning, and you may thank your stars for it.'With this exordium, Mr Ralph Nickleby took a newspaper from hispocket, and after unfolding it, and looking for a short time amongthe advertisements, read as follows:'"Education.--At Mr Wackford Squeers's Academy, Dotheboys Hall, atthe delightful village of Dotheboys, near Greta Bridge in Yorkshire,Youth are boarded, clothed, booked, furnished with pocket-money,provided with all necessaries, instructed in all languages livingand dead, mathematics, orthography, geometry, astronomy,trigonometry, the use of the globes, algebra, single stick (ifrequired), writing, arithmetic, fortification, and every otherbranch of classical literature. Terms, twenty guineas per annum.No extras, no vacations, and diet unparalleled. Mr Squeers is intown, and attends daily, from one till four, at the Saracen's Head,Snow Hill. N.B. An able assistant wanted. Annual salary 5 pounds.A Master of Arts would be preferred."'There!' said Ralph, folding the paper again. 'Let him get thatsituation, and his fortune is made.''But he is not a Master of Arts,' said Mrs Nickleby.'That,' replied Ralph, 'that, I think, can be got over.''But the salary is so small, and it is such a long way off, uncle!'faltered Kate.'Hush, Kate my dear,' interposed Mrs Nickleby; 'your uncle must knowbest.''I say,' repeated Ralph, tartly, 'let him get that situation, andhis fortune is made. If he don't like that, let him get one forhimself. Without friends, money, recommendation, or knowledge ofbusiness of any kind, let him find honest employment in London,which will keep him in shoe leather, and I'll give him a thousandpounds. At least,' said Mr Ralph Nickleby, checking himself, 'Iwould if I had it.''Poor fellow!' said the young lady. 'Oh! uncle, must we beseparated so soon!''Don't tease your uncle with questions when he is thinking only forour good, my love,' said Mrs Nickleby. 'Nicholas, my dear, I wishyou would say something.''Yes, mother, yes,' said Nicholas, who had hitherto remained silentand absorbed in thought. 'If I am fortunate enough to be appointedto this post, sir, for which I am so imperfectly qualified, whatwill become of those I leave behind?''Your mother and sister, sir,' replied Ralph, 'will be provided for,in that case (not otherwise), by me, and placed in some sphere oflife in which they will be able to be independent. That will be myimmediate care; they will not remain as they are, one week afteryour departure, I will undertake.''Then,' said Nicholas, starting gaily up, and wringing his uncle'shand, 'I am ready to do anything you wish me. Let us try ourfortune with Mr Squeers at once; he can but refuse.''He won't do that,' said Ralph. 'He will be glad to have you on myrecommendation. Make yourself of use to him, and you'll rise to bea partner in the establishment in no time. Bless me, only think! ifhe were to die, why your fortune's made at once.''To be sure, I see it all,' said poor Nicholas, delighted with athousand visionary ideas, that his good spirits and his inexperiencewere conjuring up before him. 'Or suppose some young nobleman whois being educated at the Hall, were to take a fancy to me, and gethis father to appoint me his travelling tutor when he left, and whenwe come back from the continent, procured me some handsome appointment.Eh! uncle?''Ah, to be sure!' sneered Ralph.'And who knows, but when he came to see me when I was settled (as hewould of course), he might fall in love with Kate, who would bekeeping my house, and--and marry her, eh! uncle? Who knows?''Who, indeed!' snarled Ralph.'How happy we should be!' cried Nicholas with enthusiasm. 'The painof parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again. Kate will be abeautiful woman, and I so proud to hear them say so, and mother sohappy to be with us once again, and all these sad times forgotten,and--' The picture was too bright a one to bear, and Nicholas,fairly overpowered by it, smiled faintly, and burst into tears.This simple family, born and bred in retirement, and whollyunacquainted with what is called the world--a conventional phrasewhich, being interpreted, often signifieth all the rascals in it--mingled their tears together at the thought of their firstseparation; and, this first gush of feeling over, were proceeding todilate with all the buoyancy of untried hope on the bright prospectsbefore them, when Mr Ralph Nickleby suggested, that if they losttime, some more fortunate candidate might deprive Nicholas of thestepping-stone to fortune which the advertisement pointed out, andso undermine all their air-built castles. This timely remindereffectually stopped the conversation. Nicholas, having carefullycopied the address of Mr Squeers, the uncle and nephew issued forthtogether in quest of that accomplished gentleman; Nicholas firmlypersuading himself that he had done his relative great injustice indisliking him at first sight; and Mrs Nickleby being at some painsto inform her daughter that she was sure he was a much more kindlydisposed person than he seemed; which, Miss Nickleby dutifullyremarked, he might very easily be.To tell the truth, the good lady's opinion had been not a littleinfluenced by her brother-in-law's appeal to her betterunderstanding, and his implied compliment to her high deserts; andalthough she had dearly loved her husband, and still doted on herchildren, he had struck so successfully on one of those littlejarring chords in the human heart (Ralph was well acquainted withits worst weaknesses, though he knew nothing of its best), that shehad already begun seriously to consider herself the amiable andsuffering victim of her late husband's imprudence.