Chapter 41

by Charles Dickens

　　Containing some Romantic Passages between Mrs Nickleby and theGentleman in the Small-clothes next DoorEver since her last momentous conversation with her son, MrsNickleby had begun to display unusual care in the adornment of herperson, gradually superadding to those staid and matronlyhabiliments, which had, up to that time, formed her ordinary attire,a variety of embellishments and decorations, slight perhaps inthemselves, but, taken together, and considered with reference tothe subject of her disclosure, of no mean importance. Even herblack dress assumed something of a deadly-lively air from the jauntystyle in which it was worn; and, eked out as its lingeringattractions were; by a prudent disposal, here and there, of certainjuvenile ornaments of little or no value, which had, for that reasonalone, escaped the general wreck and been permitted to slumberpeacefully in odd corners of old drawers and boxes where daylightseldom shone, her mourning garments assumed quite a new character.From being the outward tokens of respect and sorrow for the dead,they became converted into signals of very slaughterous and killingdesigns upon the living.Mrs Nickleby might have been stimulated to this proceeding by alofty sense of duty, and impulses of unquestionable excellence. Shemight, by this time, have become impressed with the sinfulness oflong indulgence in unavailing woe, or the necessity of setting aproper example of neatness and decorum to her blooming daughter.Considerations of duty and responsibility apart, the change mighthave taken its rise in feelings of the purest and most disinterestedcharity. The gentleman next door had been vilified by Nicholas;rudely stigmatised as a dotard and an idiot; and for these attacksupon his understanding, Mrs Nickleby was, in some sort, accountable.She might have felt that it was the act of a good Christian to showby all means in her power, that the abused gentleman was neither theone nor the other. And what better means could she adopt, towardsso virtuous and laudable an end, than proving to all men, in her ownperson, that his passion was the most rational and reasonable in theworld, and just the very result, of all others, which discreet andthinking persons might have foreseen, from her incautiouslydisplaying her matured charms, without reserve, under the very eye,as it were, of an ardent and too-susceptible man?'Ah!' said Mrs Nickleby, gravely shaking her head; 'if Nicholas knewwhat his poor dear papa suffered before we were engaged, when I usedto hate him, he would have a little more feeling. Shall I everforget the morning I looked scornfully at him when he offered tocarry my parasol? Or that night, when I frowned at him? It was amercy he didn't emigrate. It very nearly drove him to it.'Whether the deceased might not have been better off if he hademigrated in his bachelor days, was a question which his relict didnot stop to consider; for Kate entered the room, with her workbox,in this stage of her reflections; and a much slighter interruption,or no interruption at all, would have diverted Mrs Nickleby'sthoughts into a new channel at any time.'Kate, my dear,' said Mrs Nickleby; 'I don't know how it is, but afine warm summer day like this, with the birds singing in everydirection, always puts me in mind of roast pig, with sage and onionsauce, and made gravy.''That's a curious association of ideas, is it not, mama?''Upon my word, my dear, I don't know,' replied Mrs Nickleby. 'Roastpig; let me see. On the day five weeks after you were christened,we had a roast--no, that couldn't have been a pig, either, because Irecollect there were a pair of them to carve, and your poor papa andI could never have thought of sitting down to two pigs--they musthave been partridges. Roast pig! I hardly think we ever could havehad one, now I come to remember, for your papa could never bear thesight of them in the shops, and used to say that they always put himin mind of very little babies, only the pigs had much fairercomplexions; and he had a horror of little babies, to, because hecouldn't very well afford any increase to his family, and had anatural dislike to the subject. It's very odd now, what can haveput that in my head! I recollect dining once at Mrs Bevan's, inthat broad street round the corner by the coachmaker's, where thetipsy man fell through the cellar-flap of an empty house nearly aweek before the quarter-day, and wasn't found till the new tenantwent in--and we had roast pig there. It must be that, I think, thatreminds me of it, especially as there was a little bird in the roomthat would keep on singing all the time of dinner--at least, not alittle bird, for it was a parrot, and he didn't sing exactly, for hetalked and swore dreadfully: but I think it must be that. Indeed Iam sure it must. Shouldn't you say so, my dear?''I should say there was not a doubt about it, mama,' returned Kate,with a cheerful smile.'No; but do you think so, Kate?' said Mrs Nickleby, with as muchgravity as if it were a question of the most imminent and thrillinginterest. 'If you don't, say so at once, you know; because it'sjust as well to be correct, particularly on a point of this kind,which is very curious and worth settling while one thinks about it.'Kate laughingly replied that she was quite convinced; and as hermama still appeared undetermined whether it was not absolutelyessential that the subject should be renewed, proposed that theyshould take their work into the summer-house, and enjoy the beautyof the afternoon. Mrs Nickleby readily assented, and to the summer-house they repaired, without further discussion.'Well, I will say,' observed Mrs Nickleby, as she took her seat,'that there never was such a good creature as Smike. Upon my word,the pains he has taken in putting this little arbour to rights, andtraining the sweetest flowers about it, are beyond anything I couldhave--I wish he wouldn't put all the gravel on your side, Kate, mydear, though, and leave nothing but mould for me.''Dear mama,' returned Kate, hastily, 'take this seat--do--to obligeme, mama.''No, indeed, my dear. I shall keep my own side,' said Mrs Nickleby.'Well! I declare!'Kate looked up inquiringly.'If he hasn't been,' said Mrs Nickleby, 'and got, from somewhereor other, a couple of roots of those flowers that I said I was sofond of, the other night, and asked you if you were not--no, thatyou said you were so fond of, the other night, and asked me if Iwasn't--it's the same thing. Now, upon my word, I take that as verykind and attentive indeed! I don't see,' added Mrs Nickleby,looking narrowly about her, 'any of them on my side, but I supposethey grow best near the gravel. You may depend upon it they do,Kate, and that's the reason they are all near you, and he has putthe gravel there, because it's the sunny side. Upon my word, that'svery clever now! I shouldn't have had half as much thought myself!''Mama,' said Kate, bending over her work so that her face wasalmost hidden, 'before you were married--''Dear me, Kate,' interrupted Mrs Nickleby, 'what in the name ofgoodness graciousness makes you fly off to the time before I wasmarried, when I'm talking to you about his thoughtfulness andattention to me? You don't seem to take the smallest interest inthe garden.''Oh! mama,' said Kate, raising her face again, 'you know I do.''Well then, my dear, why don't you praise the neatness andprettiness with which it's kept?' said Mrs Nickleby. 'How very oddyou are, Kate!''I do praise it, mama,' answered Kate, gently. 'Poor fellow!''I scarcely ever hear you, my dear,' retorted Mrs Nickleby; 'that'sall I've got to say.' By this time the good lady had been a longwhile upon one topic, so she fell at once into her daughter's littletrap, if trap it were, and inquired what she had been going to say.'About what, mama?' said Kate, who had apparently quite forgottenher diversion.'Lor, Kate, my dear,' returned her mother, 'why, you're asleep orstupid! About the time before I was married.''Oh yes!' said Kate, 'I remember. I was going to ask, mama, beforeyou were married, had you many suitors?''Suitors, my dear!' cried Mrs Nickleby, with a smile of wonderfulcomplacency. 'First and last, Kate, I must have had a dozen atleast.''Mama!' returned Kate, in a tone of remonstrance.'I had indeed, my dear,' said Mrs Nickleby; 'not including your poorpapa, or a young gentleman who used to go, at that time, to the samedancing school, and who would send gold watches and bracelets to ourhouse in gilt-edged paper, (which were always returned,) and whoafterwards unfortunately went out to Botany Bay in a cadet ship--aconvict ship I mean--and escaped into a bush and killed sheep, (Idon't know how they got there,) and was going to be hung, only heaccidentally choked himself, and the government pardoned him. Thenthere was young Lukin,' said Mrs Nickleby, beginning with her leftthumb and checking off the names on her fingers--'Mogley--Tipslark--Cabbery--Smifser--'Having now reached her little finger, Mrs Nickleby was carrying theaccount over to the other hand, when a loud 'Hem!' which appeared tocome from the very foundation of the garden-wall, gave both herselfand her daughter a violent start.'Mama! what was that?' said Kate, in a low tone of voice.'Upon my word, my dear,' returned Mrs Nickleby, considerablystartled, 'unless it was the gentleman belonging to the next house,I don't know what it could possibly--''A--hem!' cried the same voice; and that, not in the tone of anordinary clearing of the throat, but in a kind of bellow, which wokeup all the echoes in the neighbourhood, and was prolonged to anextent which must have made the unseen bellower quite black in theface.'I understand it now, my dear,' said Mrs Nickleby, laying her handon Kate's; 'don't be alarmed, my love, it's not directed to you, andis not intended to frighten anybody. Let us give everybody theirdue, Kate; I am bound to say that.'So saying, Mrs Nickleby nodded her head, and patted the back of herdaughter's hand, a great many times, and looked as if she could tellsomething vastly important if she chose, but had self-denial, thankHeaven; and wouldn't do it.'What do you mean, mama?' demanded Kate, in evident surprise.'Don't be flurried, my dear,' replied Mrs Nickleby, looking towardsthe garden-wall, 'for you see I'm not, and if it would be excusablein anybody to be flurried, it certainly would--under all thecircumstances--be excusable in me, but I am not, Kate--not at all.''It seems designed to attract our attention, mama,' said Kate.'It is designed to attract our attention, my dear; at least,'rejoined Mrs Nickleby, drawing herself up, and patting herdaughter's hand more blandly than before, 'to attract the attentionof one of us. Hem! you needn't be at all uneasy, my dear.'Kate looked very much perplexed, and was apparently about to ask forfurther explanation, when a shouting and scuffling noise, as of anelderly gentleman whooping, and kicking up his legs on loose gravel,with great violence, was heard to proceed from the same direction asthe former sounds; and before they had subsided, a large cucumberwas seen to shoot up in the air with the velocity of a sky-rocket,whence it descended, tumbling over and over, until it fell at MrsNickleby's feet.This remarkable appearance was succeeded by another of a preciselysimilar description; then a fine vegetable marrow, of unusuallylarge dimensions, was seen to whirl aloft, and come toppling down;then, several cucumbers shot up together; and, finally, the air wasdarkened by a shower of onions, turnip-radishes, and other smallvegetables, which fell rolling and scattering, and bumping about, inall directions.As Kate rose from her seat, in some alarm, and caught her mother'shand to run with her into the house, she felt herself ratherretarded than assisted in her intention; and following the directionof Mrs Nickleby's eyes, was quite terrified by the apparition of anold black velvet cap, which, by slow degrees, as if its wearer wereascending a ladder or pair of steps, rose above the wall dividingtheir garden from that of the next cottage, (which, like their own,was a detached building,) and was gradually followed by a very largehead, and an old face, in which were a pair of most extraordinarygrey eyes: very wild, very wide open, and rolling in their sockets,with a dull, languishing, leering look, most ugly to behold.'Mama!' cried Kate, really terrified for the moment, 'why do youstop, why do you lose an instant? Mama, pray come in!''Kate, my dear,' returned her mother, still holding back, 'how canyou be so foolish? I'm ashamed of you. How do you suppose you areever to get through life, if you're such a coward as this? What doyou want, sir?' said Mrs Nickleby, addressing the intruder with asort of simpering displeasure. 'How dare you look into thisgarden?''Queen of my soul,' replied the stranger, folding his handstogether, 'this goblet sip!''Nonsense, sir,' said Mrs Nickleby. 'Kate, my love, pray be quiet.''Won't you sip the goblet?' urged the stranger, with his headimploringly on one side, and his right hand on his breast. 'Oh, dosip the goblet!''I shall not consent to do anything of the kind, sir,' said MrsNickleby. 'Pray, begone.''Why is it,' said the old gentleman, coming up a step higher, andleaning his elbows on the wall, with as much complacency as if hewere looking out of window, 'why is it that beauty is alwaysobdurate, even when admiration is as honourable and respectful asmine?' Here he smiled, kissed his hand, and made several low bows.'Is it owing to the bees, who, when the honey season is over, andthey are supposed to have been killed with brimstone, in reality flyto Barbary and lull the captive Moors to sleep with their drowsysongs? Or is it,' he added, dropping his voice almost to a whisper,'in consequence of the statue at Charing Cross having been latelyseen, on the Stock Exchange at midnight, walking arm-in-arm with thePump from Aldgate, in a riding-habit?''Mama,' murmured Kate, 'do you hear him?''Hush, my dear!' replied Mrs Nickleby, in the same tone of voice,'he is very polite, and I think that was a quotation from the poets.Pray, don't worry me so--you'll pinch my arm black and blue. Goaway, sir!''Quite away?' said the gentleman, with a languishing look. 'Oh!quite away?''Yes,' returned Mrs Nickleby, 'certainly. You have no businesshere. This is private property, sir; you ought to know that.''I do know,' said the old gentleman, laying his finger on his nose,with an air of familiarity, most reprehensible, 'that this is asacred and enchanted spot, where the most divine charms'--here hekissed his hand and bowed again--'waft mellifluousness over theneighbours' gardens, and force the fruit and vegetables intopremature existence. That fact I am acquainted with. But will youpermit me, fairest creature, to ask you one question, in the absenceof the planet Venus, who has gone on business to the Horse Guards,and would otherwise--jealous of your superior charms--interposebetween us?''Kate,' observed Mrs Nickleby, turning to her daughter, 'it's veryawkward, positively. I really don't know what to say to thisgentleman. One ought to be civil, you know.''Dear mama,' rejoined Kate, 'don't say a word to him, but let usrun away as fast as we can, and shut ourselves up till Nicholascomes home.'Mrs Nickleby looked very grand, not to say contemptuous, at thishumiliating proposal; and, turning to the old gentleman, who hadwatched them during these whispers with absorbing eagerness, said:'If you will conduct yourself, sir, like the gentleman I shouldimagine you to be, from your language and--and--appearance, (quitethe counterpart of your grandpapa, Kate, my dear, in his best days,)and will put your question to me in plain words, I will answer it.'If Mrs Nickleby's excellent papa had borne, in his best days, aresemblance to the neighbour now looking over the wall, he must havebeen, to say the least, a very queer-looking old gentleman in hisprime. Perhaps Kate thought so, for she ventured to glance at hisliving portrait with some attention, as he took off his black velvetcap, and, exhibiting a perfectly bald head, made a long series ofbows, each accompanied with a fresh kiss of the hand. Afterexhausting himself, to all appearance, with this fatiguingperformance, he covered his head once more, pulled the cap verycarefully over the tips of his ears, and resuming his formerattitude, said,'The question is--'Here he broke off to look round in every direction, and satisfyhimself beyond all doubt that there were no listeners near. Assuredthat there were not, he tapped his nose several times, accompanyingthe action with a cunning look, as though congratulating himself onhis caution; and stretching out his neck, said in a loud whisper,'Are you a princess?''You are mocking me, sir,' replied Mrs Nickleby, making a feint ofretreating towards the house.'No, but are you?' said the old gentleman.'You know I am not, sir,' replied Mrs Nickleby.'Then are you any relation to the Archbishop of Canterbury?'inquired the old gentleman with great anxiety, 'or to the Pope ofRome? Or the Speaker of the House of Commons? Forgive me, if I amwrong, but I was told you were niece to the Commissioners of Paving,and daughter-in-law to the Lord Mayor and Court of Common Council,which would account for your relationship to all three.''Whoever has spread such reports, sir,' returned Mrs Nickleby, withsome warmth, 'has taken great liberties with my name, and one whichI am sure my son Nicholas, if he was aware of it, would not allowfor an instant. The idea!' said Mrs Nickleby, drawing herself up,'niece to the Commissioners of Paving!''Pray, mama, come away!' whispered Kate.'"Pray mama!" Nonsense, Kate,' said Mrs Nickleby, angrily, 'butthat's just the way. If they had said I was niece to a pipingbullfinch, what would you care? But I have no sympathy,' whimperedMrs Nickleby. 'I don't expect it, that's one thing.''Tears!' cried the old gentleman, with such an energetic jump, thathe fell down two or three steps and grated his chin against thewall. 'Catch the crystal globules--catch 'em--bottle 'em up--cork'em tight--put sealing wax on the top--seal 'em with a cupid--label'em "Best quality"--and stow 'em away in the fourteen binn, with abar of iron on the top to keep the thunder off!'Issuing these commands, as if there were a dozen attendants allactively engaged in their execution, he turned his velvet cap insideout, put it on with great dignity so as to obscure his right eye andthree-fourths of his nose, and sticking his arms a-kimbo, lookedvery fiercely at a sparrow hard by, till the bird flew away, when heput his cap in his pocket with an air of great satisfaction, andaddressed himself with respectful demeanour to Mrs Nickleby.'Beautiful madam,' such were his words, 'if I have made any mistakewith regard to your family or connections, I humbly beseech you topardon me. If I supposed you to be related to Foreign Powers orNative Boards, it is because you have a manner, a carriage, adignity, which you will excuse my saying that none but yourself(with the single exception perhaps of the tragic muse, when playingextemporaneously on the barrel organ before the East India Company)can parallel. I am not a youth, ma'am, as you see; and althoughbeings like you can never grow old, I venture to presume that we arefitted for each other.''Really, Kate, my love!' said Mrs Nickleby faintly, and lookinganother way.'I have estates, ma'am,' said the old gentleman, flourishing hisright hand negligently, as if he made very light of such matters,and speaking very fast; 'jewels, lighthouses, fish-ponds, a whaleryof my own in the North Sea, and several oyster-beds of great profitin the Pacific Ocean. If you will have the kindness to step down tothe Royal Exchange and to take the cocked-hat off the stoutestbeadle's head, you will find my card in the lining of the crown,wrapped up in a piece of blue paper. My walking-stick is also to beseen on application to the chaplain of the House of Commons, who isstrictly forbidden to take any money for showing it. I have enemiesabout me, ma'am,' he looked towards his house and spoke very low,'who attack me on all occasions, and wish to secure my property. Ifyou bless me with your hand and heart, you can apply to the LordChancellor or call out the military if necessary--sending mytoothpick to the commander-in-chief will be sufficient--and so clearthe house of them before the ceremony is performed. After that,love, bliss and rapture; rapture, love and bliss. Be mine, be mine!'Repeating these last words with great rapture and enthusiasm, theold gentleman put on his black velvet cap again, and looking up intothe sky in a hasty manner, said something that was not quiteintelligible concerning a balloon he expected, and which was ratherafter its time.'Be mine, be mine!' repeated the old gentleman.'Kate, my dear,' said Mrs Nickleby, 'I have hardly the power tospeak; but it is necessary for the happiness of all parties thatthis matter should be set at rest for ever.''Surely there is no necessity for you to say one word, mama?'reasoned Kate.'You will allow me, my dear, if you please, to judge for myself,'said Mrs Nickleby.'Be mine, be mine!' cried the old gentleman.'It can scarcely be expected, sir,' said Mrs Nickleby, fixing hereyes modestly on the ground, 'that I should tell a stranger whetherI feel flattered and obliged by such proposals, or not. Theycertainly are made under very singular circumstances; still at thesame time, as far as it goes, and to a certain extent of course'(Mrs Nickleby's customary qualification), 'they must be gratifyingand agreeable to one's feelings.''Be mine, be mine,' cried the old gentleman. 'Gog and Magog, Gogand Magog. Be mine, be mine!''It will be sufficient for me to say, sir,' resumed Mrs Nickleby,with perfect seriousness--'and I'm sure you'll see the propriety oftaking an answer and going away--that I have made up my mind toremain a widow, and to devote myself to my children. You may notsuppose I am the mother of two children--indeed many people havedoubted it, and said that nothing on earth could ever make 'embelieve it possible--but it is the case, and they are both grown up.We shall be very glad to have you for a neighbour--very glad;delighted, I'm sure--but in any other character it's quiteimpossible, quite. As to my being young enough to marry again, thatperhaps may be so, or it may not be; but I couldn't think of it foran instant, not on any account whatever. I said I never would, andI never will. It's a very painful thing to have to rejectproposals, and I would much rather that none were made; at the sametime this is the answer that I determined long ago to make, and thisis the answer I shall always give.'These observations were partly addressed to the old gentleman,partly to Kate, and partly delivered in soliloquy. Towards theirconclusion, the suitor evinced a very irreverent degree ofinattention, and Mrs Nickleby had scarcely finished speaking, when,to the great terror both of that lady and her daughter, he suddenlyflung off his coat, and springing on the top of the wall, threwhimself into an attitude which displayed his small-clothes and greyworsteds to the fullest advantage, and concluded by standing on oneleg, and repeating his favourite bellow with increased vehemence.While he was still dwelling on the last note, and embellishing itwith a prolonged flourish, a dirty hand was observed to glidestealthily and swiftly along the top of the wall, as if in pursuitof a fly, and then to clasp with the utmost dexterity one of the oldgentleman's ankles. This done, the companion hand appeared, andclasped the other ankle.Thus encumbered the old gentleman lifted his legs awkwardly once ortwice, as if they were very clumsy and imperfect pieces ofmachinery, and then looking down on his own side of the wall, burstinto a loud laugh.'It's you, is it?' said the old gentleman.'Yes, it's me,' replied a gruff voice.'How's the Emperor of Tartary?' said the old gentleman.'Oh! he's much the same as usual,' was the reply. 'No better and noworse.''The young Prince of China,' said the old gentleman, with muchinterest. 'Is he reconciled to his father-in-law, the great potatosalesman?''No,' answered the gruff voice; 'and he says he never will be,that's more.''If that's the case,' observed the old gentleman, 'perhaps I'dbetter come down.''Well,' said the man on the other side, 'I think you had, perhaps.'One of the hands being then cautiously unclasped, the old gentlemandropped into a sitting posture, and was looking round to smile andbow to Mrs Nickleby, when he disappeared with some precipitation, asif his legs had been pulled from below.Very much relieved by his disappearance, Kate was turning to speakto her mama, when the dirty hands again became visible, and wereimmediately followed by the figure of a coarse squat man, whoascended by the steps which had been recently occupied by theirsingular neighbour.'Beg your pardon, ladies,' said this new comer, grinning andtouching his hat. 'Has he been making love to either of you?''Yes,' said Kate.'Ah!' rejoined the man, taking his handkerchief out of his hat andwiping his face, 'he always will, you know. Nothing will preventhis making love.''I need not ask you if he is out of his mind, poor creature,' saidKate.'Why no,' replied the man, looking into his hat, throwing hishandkerchief in at one dab, and putting it on again. 'That's prettyplain, that is.''Has he been long so?' asked Kate.'A long while.''And is there no hope for him?' said Kate, compassionately'Not a bit, and don't deserve to be,' replied the keeper. 'He's adeal pleasanter without his senses than with 'em. He was thecruellest, wickedest, out-and-outerest old flint that ever drawedbreath.''Indeed!' said Kate.'By George!' replied the keeper, shaking his head so emphaticallythat he was obliged to frown to keep his hat on. 'I never comeacross such a vagabond, and my mate says the same. Broke his poorwife's heart, turned his daughters out of doors, drove his sons intothe streets; it was a blessing he went mad at last, through eviltempers, and covetousness, and selfishness, and guzzling, anddrinking, or he'd have drove many others so. Hope for him, an oldrip! There isn't too much hope going' but I'll bet a crown thatwhat there is, is saved for more deserving chaps than him, anyhow.'With which confession of his faith, the keeper shook his head again,as much as to say that nothing short of this would do, if thingswere to go on at all; and touching his hat sulkily--not that he wasin an ill humour, but that his subject ruffled him--descended theladder, and took it away.During this conversation, Mrs Nickleby had regarded the man with asevere and steadfast look. She now heaved a profound sigh, andpursing up her lips, shook her head in a slow and doubtful manner.'Poor creature!' said Kate.'Ah! poor indeed!' rejoined Mrs Nickleby. 'It's shameful that suchthings should be allowed. Shameful!''How can they be helped, mama?' said Kate, mournfully. 'Theinfirmities of nature--''Nature!' said Mrs Nickleby. 'What! Do you suppose this poorgentleman is out of his mind?''Can anybody who sees him entertain any other opinion, mama?''Why then, I just tell you this, Kate,' returned Mrs Nickleby,'that, he is nothing of the kind, and I am surprised you can be soimposed upon. It's some plot of these people to possess themselvesof his property--didn't he say so himself? He may be a little oddand flighty, perhaps, many of us are that; but downright mad! andexpress himself as he does, respectfully, and in quite poeticallanguage, and making offers with so much thought, and care, andprudence--not as if he ran into the streets, and went down upon hisknees to the first chit of a girl he met, as a madman would! No,no, Kate, there's a great deal too much method in his madness;depend upon that, my dear.'