The Life And Adventures Of Nicholas Nickleby

C >> Charles Dickens >> The Life And Adventures Of Nicholas Nickleby


They dined together, sumptuously. The wine flowed freely, as indeed
it had done all day. Sir Mulberry drank to recompense himself for his
recent abstinence; the young lord, to drown his indignation; and the
remainder of the party, because the wine was of the best and they had
nothing to pay. It was nearly midnight when they rushed out, wild,
burning with wine, their blood boiling, and their brains on fire, to the
gaming-table.

Here, they encountered another party, mad like themselves. The
excitement of play, hot rooms, and glaring lights was not calculated to
allay the fever of the time. In that giddy whirl of noise and confusion,
the men were delirious. Who thought of money, ruin, or the morrow, in
the savage intoxication of the moment? More wine was called for, glass
after glass was drained, their parched and scalding mouths were cracked
with thirst. Down poured the wine like oil on blazing fire. And still
the riot went on. The debauchery gained its height; glasses were dashed
upon the floor by hands that could not carry them to lips; oaths were
shouted out by lips which could scarcely form the words to vent them
in; drunken losers cursed and roared; some mounted on the tables, waving
bottles above their heads and bidding defiance to the rest; some danced,
some sang, some tore the cards and raved. Tumult and frenzy reigned
supreme; when a noise arose that drowned all others, and two men,
seizing each other by the throat, struggled into the middle of the room.

A dozen voices, until now unheard, called aloud to part them. Those who
had kept themselves cool, to win, and who earned their living in such
scenes, threw themselves upon the combatants, and, forcing them asunder,
dragged them some space apart.

'Let me go!' cried Sir Mulberry, in a thick hoarse voice; 'he struck
me! Do you hear? I say, he struck me. Have I a friend here? Who is this?
Westwood. Do you hear me say he struck me?'

'I hear, I hear,' replied one of those who held him. 'Come away for
tonight!'

'I will not, by G--,' he replied. 'A dozen men about us saw the blow.'

'Tomorrow will be ample time,' said the friend.

'It will not be ample time!' cried Sir Mulberry. 'Tonight, at once,
here!' His passion was so great, that he could not articulate, but stood
clenching his fist, tearing his hair, and stamping upon the ground.

'What is this, my lord?' said one of those who surrounded him. 'Have
blows passed?'

'ONE blow has,' was the panting reply. 'I struck him. I proclaim it
to all here! I struck him, and he knows why. I say, with him, let this
quarrel be adjusted now. Captain Adams,' said the young lord, looking
hurriedly about him, and addressing one of those who had interposed,
'let me speak with you, I beg.'

The person addressed stepped forward, and taking the young man's arm,
they retired together, followed shortly afterwards by Sir Mulberry and
his friend.

It was a profligate haunt of the worst repute, and not a place in which
such an affair was likely to awaken any sympathy for either party, or
to call forth any further remonstrance or interposition. Elsewhere, its
further progress would have been instantly prevented, and time allowed
for sober and cool reflection; but not there. Disturbed in their orgies,
the party broke up; some reeled away with looks of tipsy gravity; others
withdrew noisily discussing what had just occurred; the gentlemen of
honour who lived upon their winnings remarked to each other, as they
went out, that Hawk was a good shot; and those who had been most noisy,
fell fast asleep upon the sofas, and thought no more about it.

Meanwhile, the two seconds, as they may be called now, after a long
conference, each with his principal, met together in another room. Both
utterly heartless, both men upon town, both thoroughly initiated in its
worst vices, both deeply in debt, both fallen from some higher estate,
both addicted to every depravity for which society can find some genteel
name and plead its most depraving conventionalities as an excuse, they
were naturally gentlemen of most unblemished honour themselves, and of
great nicety concerning the honour of other people.

These two gentlemen were unusually cheerful just now; for the affair was
pretty certain to make some noise, and could scarcely fail to enhance
their reputations.

'This is an awkward affair, Adams,' said Mr Westwood, drawing himself
up.

'Very,' returned the captain; 'a blow has been struck, and there is but
one course, OF course.'

'No apology, I suppose?' said Mr Westwood.

'Not a syllable, sir, from my man, if we talk till doomsday,' returned
the captain. 'The original cause of dispute, I understand, was some
girl or other, to whom your principal applied certain terms, which
Lord Frederick, defending the girl, repelled. But this led to a
long recrimination upon a great many sore subjects, charges, and
counter-charges. Sir Mulberry was sarcastic; Lord Frederick was excited,
and struck him in the heat of provocation, and under circumstances of
great aggravation. That blow, unless there is a full retraction on the
part of Sir Mulberry, Lord Frederick is ready to justify.'

'There is no more to be said,' returned the other, 'but to settle the
hour and the place of meeting. It's a responsibility; but there is a
strong feeling to have it over. Do you object to say at sunrise?'

'Sharp work,' replied the captain, referring to his watch; 'however, as
this seems to have been a long time breeding, and negotiation is only a
waste of words, no.'

'Something may possibly be said, out of doors, after what passed in the
other room, which renders it desirable that we should be off without
delay, and quite clear of town,' said Mr Westwood. 'What do you say to
one of the meadows opposite Twickenham, by the river-side?'

The captain saw no objection.

'Shall we join company in the avenue of trees which leads from Petersham
to Ham House, and settle the exact spot when we arrive there?' said Mr
Westwood.

To this the captain also assented. After a few other preliminaries,
equally brief, and having settled the road each party should take to
avoid suspicion, they separated.

'We shall just have comfortable time, my lord,' said the captain, when
he had communicated the arrangements, 'to call at my rooms for a case of
pistols, and then jog coolly down. If you will allow me to dismiss your
servant, we'll take my cab; for yours, perhaps, might be recognised.'

What a contrast, when they reached the street, to the scene they had
just left! It was already daybreak. For the flaring yellow light within,
was substituted the clear, bright, glorious morning; for a hot, close
atmosphere, tainted with the smell of expiring lamps, and reeking with
the steams of riot and dissipation, the free, fresh, wholesome air. But
to the fevered head on which that cool air blew, it seemed to come laden
with remorse for time misspent and countless opportunities neglected.
With throbbing veins and burning skin, eyes wild and heavy, thoughts
hurried and disordered, he felt as though the light were a reproach, and
shrunk involuntarily from the day as if he were some foul and hideous
thing.

'Shivering?' said the captain. 'You are cold.'

'Rather.'

'It does strike cool, coming out of those hot rooms. Wrap that cloak
about you. So, so; now we're off.'

They rattled through the quiet streets, made their call at the captain's
lodgings, cleared the town, and emerged upon the open road, without
hindrance or molestation.

Fields, trees, gardens, hedges, everything looked very beautiful; the
young man scarcely seemed to have noticed them before, though he had
passed the same objects a thousand times. There was a peace and serenity
upon them all, strangely at variance with the bewilderment and confusion
of his own half-sobered thoughts, and yet impressive and welcome. He had
no fear upon his mind; but, as he looked about him, he had less anger;
and though all old delusions, relative to his worthless late companion,
were now cleared away, he rather wished he had never known him than
thought of its having come to this.

The past night, the day before, and many other days and nights beside,
all mingled themselves up in one unintelligible and senseless whirl; he
could not separate the transactions of one time from those of another.
Now, the noise of the wheels resolved itself into some wild tune in
which he could recognise scraps of airs he knew; now, there was nothing
in his ears but a stunning and bewildering sound, like rushing water.
But his companion rallied him on being so silent, and they talked and
laughed boisterously. When they stopped, he was a little surprised to
find himself in the act of smoking; but, on reflection, he remembered
when and where he had taken the cigar.

They stopped at the avenue gate and alighted, leaving the carriage to
the care of the servant, who was a smart fellow, and nearly as well
accustomed to such proceedings as his master. Sir Mulberry and his
friend were already there. All four walked in profound silence up the
aisle of stately elm trees, which, meeting far above their heads, formed
a long green perspective of Gothic arches, terminating, like some old
ruin, in the open sky.

After a pause, and a brief conference between the seconds, they, at
length, turned to the right, and taking a track across a little meadow,
passed Ham House and came into some fields beyond. In one of these, they
stopped. The ground was measured, some usual forms gone through, the two
principals were placed front to front at the distance agreed upon, and
Sir Mulberry turned his face towards his young adversary for the first
time. He was very pale, his eyes were bloodshot, his dress disordered,
and his hair dishevelled. For the face, it expressed nothing but violent
and evil passions. He shaded his eyes with his hand; grazed at his
opponent, steadfastly, for a few moments; and, then taking the weapon
which was tendered to him, bent his eyes upon that, and looked up no
more until the word was given, when he instantly fired.

The two shots were fired, as nearly as possible, at the same instant. In
that instant, the young lord turned his head sharply round, fixed upon
his adversary a ghastly stare, and without a groan or stagger, fell down
dead.

'He's gone!' cried Westwood, who, with the other second, had run up to
the body, and fallen on one knee beside it.

'His blood on his own head,' said Sir Mulberry. 'He brought this upon
himself, and forced it upon me.'

'Captain Adams,' cried Westwood, hastily, 'I call you to witness that
this was fairly done. Hawk, we have not a moment to lose. We must leave
this place immediately, push for Brighton, and cross to France with all
speed. This has been a bad business, and may be worse, if we delay
a moment. Adams, consult your own safety, and don't remain here; the
living before the dead; goodbye!'

With these words, he seized Sir Mulberry by the arm, and hurried him
away. Captain Adams--only pausing to convince himself, beyond all
question, of the fatal result--sped off in the same direction, to
concert measures with his servant for removing the body, and securing
his own safety likewise.

So died Lord Frederick Verisopht, by the hand which he had loaded with
gifts, and clasped a thousand times; by the act of him, but for whom,
and others like him, he might have lived a happy man, and died with
children's faces round his bed.

The sun came proudly up in all his majesty, the noble river ran its
winding course, the leaves quivered and rustled in the air, the birds
poured their cheerful songs from every tree, the short-lived butterfly
fluttered its little wings; all the light and life of day came on; and,
amidst it all, and pressing down the grass whose every blade bore twenty
tiny lives, lay the dead man, with his stark and rigid face turned
upwards to the sky.



CHAPTER 51

The Project of Mr Ralph Nickleby and his Friend approaching a successful
Issue, becomes unexpectedly known to another Party, not admitted into
their Confidence


In an old house, dismal dark and dusty, which seemed to have withered,
like himself, and to have grown yellow and shrivelled in hoarding him
from the light of day, as he had in hoarding his money, lived Arthur
Gride. Meagre old chairs and tables, of spare and bony make, and hard
and cold as misers' hearts, were ranged, in grim array, against the
gloomy walls; attenuated presses, grown lank and lantern-jawed in
guarding the treasures they enclosed, and tottering, as though from
constant fear and dread of thieves, shrunk up in dark corners, whence
they cast no shadows on the ground, and seemed to hide and cower from
observation. A tall grim clock upon the stairs, with long lean hands and
famished face, ticked in cautious whispers; and when it struck the time,
in thin and piping sounds, like an old man's voice, rattled, as if it
were pinched with hunger.

No fireside couch was there, to invite repose and comfort. Elbow-chairs
there were, but they looked uneasy in their minds, cocked their arms
suspiciously and timidly, and kept upon their guard. Others, were
fantastically grim and gaunt, as having drawn themselves up to their
utmost height, and put on their fiercest looks to stare all comers out
of countenance. Others, again, knocked up against their neighbours, or
leant for support against the wall--somewhat ostentatiously, as if to
call all men to witness that they were not worth the taking. The dark
square lumbering bedsteads seemed built for restless dreams; the musty
hangings seemed to creep in scanty folds together, whispering among
themselves, when rustled by the wind, their trembling knowledge of the
tempting wares that lurked within the dark and tight-locked closets.

From out the most spare and hungry room in all this spare and hungry
house there came, one morning, the tremulous tones of old Gride's voice,
as it feebly chirruped forth the fag end of some forgotten song, of
which the burden ran:

Ta--ran--tan--too,
Throw the old shoe,
And may the wedding be lucky!

which he repeated, in the same shrill quavering notes, again and again,
until a violent fit of coughing obliged him to desist, and to pursue in
silence, the occupation upon which he was engaged.

This occupation was, to take down from the shelves of a worm-eaten
wardrobe a quantity of frouzy garments, one by one; to subject each to
a careful and minute inspection by holding it up against the light, and
after folding it with great exactness, to lay it on one or other of
two little heaps beside him. He never took two articles of clothing out
together, but always brought them forth, singly, and never failed to
shut the wardrobe door, and turn the key, between each visit to its
shelves.

'The snuff-coloured suit,' said Arthur Gride, surveying a threadbare
coat. 'Did I look well in snuff-colour? Let me think.'

The result of his cogitations appeared to be unfavourable, for he folded
the garment once more, laid it aside, and mounted on a chair to get down
another, chirping while he did so:

Young, loving, and fair,
Oh what happiness there!
The wedding is sure to be lucky!

'They always put in "young,"' said old Arthur, 'but songs are only
written for the sake of rhyme, and this is a silly one that the poor
country-people sang, when I was a little boy. Though stop--young is
quite right too--it means the bride--yes. He, he, he! It means the
bride. Oh dear, that's good. That's very good. And true besides, quite
true!'

In the satisfaction of this discovery, he went over the verse again,
with increased expression, and a shake or two here and there. He then
resumed his employment.

'The bottle-green,' said old Arthur; 'the bottle-green was a famous
suit to wear, and I bought it very cheap at a pawnbroker's, and there
was--he, he, he!--a tarnished shilling in the waistcoat pocket. To think
that the pawnbroker shouldn't have known there was a shilling in it! I
knew it! I felt it when I was examining the quality. Oh, what a dull dog
of a pawnbroker! It was a lucky suit too, this bottle-green. The very
day I put it on first, old Lord Mallowford was burnt to death in
his bed, and all the post-obits fell in. I'll be married in the
bottle-green. Peg. Peg Sliderskew--I'll wear the bottle-green!'

This call, loudly repeated twice or thrice at the room-door, brought
into the apartment a short, thin, weasen, blear-eyed old woman,
palsy-stricken and hideously ugly, who, wiping her shrivelled face upon
her dirty apron, inquired, in that subdued tone in which deaf people
commonly speak:

'Was that you a calling, or only the clock a striking? My hearing gets
so bad, I never know which is which; but when I hear a noise, I know it
must be one of you, because nothing else never stirs in the house.'

'Me, Peg, me,' said Arthur Gride, tapping himself on the breast to
render the reply more intelligible.

'You, eh?' returned Peg. 'And what do YOU want?'

'I'll be married in the bottle-green,' cried Arthur Gride.

'It's a deal too good to be married in, master,' rejoined Peg, after
a short inspection of the suit. 'Haven't you got anything worse than
this?'

'Nothing that'll do,' replied old Arthur.

'Why not do?' retorted Peg. 'Why don't you wear your every-day clothes,
like a man--eh?'

'They an't becoming enough, Peg,' returned her master.

'Not what enough?' said Peg.

'Becoming.'

'Becoming what?' said Peg, sharply. 'Not becoming too old to wear?'

Arthur Gride muttered an imprecation on his housekeeper's deafness, as
he roared in her ear:

'Not smart enough! I want to look as well as I can.'

'Look?' cried Peg. 'If she's as handsome as you say she is, she won't
look much at you, master, take your oath of that; and as to how you look
yourself--pepper-and-salt, bottle-green, sky-blue, or tartan-plaid will
make no difference in you.'

With which consolatory assurance, Peg Sliderskew gathered up the chosen
suit, and folding her skinny arms upon the bundle, stood, mouthing, and
grinning, and blinking her watery eyes, like an uncouth figure in some
monstrous piece of carving.

'You're in a funny humour, an't you, Peg?' said Arthur, with not the
best possible grace.

'Why, isn't it enough to make me?' rejoined the old woman. 'I shall,
soon enough, be put out, though, if anybody tries to domineer it over
me: and so I give you notice, master. Nobody shall be put over Peg
Sliderskew's head, after so many years; you know that, and so I needn't
tell you! That won't do for me--no, no, nor for you. Try that once, and
come to ruin--ruin--ruin!'

'Oh dear, dear, I shall never try it,' said Arthur Gride, appalled by
the mention of the word, 'not for the world. It would be very easy to
ruin me; we must be very careful; more saving than ever, with another
mouth to feed. Only we--we mustn't let her lose her good looks, Peg,
because I like to see 'em.'

'Take care you don't find good looks come expensive,' returned Peg,
shaking her forefinger.

'But she can earn money herself, Peg,' said Arthur Gride, eagerly
watching what effect his communication produced upon the old woman's
countenance: 'she can draw, paint, work all manner of pretty things for
ornamenting stools and chairs: slippers, Peg, watch-guards, hair-chains,
and a thousand little dainty trifles that I couldn't give you half the
names of. Then she can play the piano, (and, what's more, she's got
one), and sing like a little bird. She'll be very cheap to dress and
keep, Peg; don't you think she will?'

'If you don't let her make a fool of you, she may,' returned Peg.

'A fool of ME!' exclaimed Arthur. 'Trust your old master not to be
fooled by pretty faces, Peg; no, no, no--nor by ugly ones neither, Mrs
Sliderskew,' he softly added by way of soliloquy.

'You're a saying something you don't want me to hear,' said Peg; 'I know
you are.'

'Oh dear! the devil's in this woman,' muttered Arthur; adding with an
ugly leer, 'I said I trusted everything to you, Peg. That was all.'

'You do that, master, and all your cares are over,' said Peg
approvingly.

'WHEN I do that, Peg Sliderskew,' thought Arthur Gride, 'they will be.'

Although he thought this very distinctly, he durst not move his lips
lest the old woman should detect him. He even seemed half afraid that
she might have read his thoughts; for he leered coaxingly upon her, as
he said aloud:

'Take up all loose stitches in the bottle-green with the best black
silk. Have a skein of the best, and some new buttons for the coat,
and--this is a good idea, Peg, and one you'll like, I know--as I have
never given her anything yet, and girls like such attentions, you shall
polish up a sparking necklace that I have got upstairs, and I'll give
it her upon the wedding morning--clasp it round her charming little neck
myself--and take it away again next day. He, he, he! I'll lock it up for
her, Peg, and lose it. Who'll be made the fool of there, I wonder, to
begin with--eh, Peg?'

Mrs Sliderskew appeared to approve highly of this ingenious scheme, and
expressed her satisfaction by various rackings and twitchings of
her head and body, which by no means enhanced her charms. These she
prolonged until she had hobbled to the door, when she exchanged them
for a sour malignant look, and twisting her under-jaw from side to side,
muttered hearty curses upon the future Mrs Gride, as she crept slowly
down the stairs, and paused for breath at nearly every one.

'She's half a witch, I think,' said Arthur Gride, when he found himself
again alone. 'But she's very frugal, and she's very deaf. Her living
costs me next to nothing; and it's no use her listening at keyholes; for
she can't hear. She's a charming woman--for the purpose; a most discreet
old housekeeper, and worth her weight in--copper.'

Having extolled the merits of his domestic in these high terms, old
Arthur went back to the burden of his song. The suit destined to grace
his approaching nuptials being now selected, he replaced the others with
no less care than he had displayed in drawing them from the musty nooks
where they had silently reposed for many years.

Startled by a ring at the door, he hastily concluded this operation, and
locked the press; but there was no need for any particular hurry, as the
discreet Peg seldom knew the bell was rung unless she happened to cast
her dim eyes upwards, and to see it shaking against the kitchen ceiling.
After a short delay, however, Peg tottered in, followed by Newman Noggs.

'Ah! Mr Noggs!' cried Arthur Gride, rubbing his hands. 'My good friend,
Mr Noggs, what news do you bring for me?'

Newman, with a steadfast and immovable aspect, and his fixed eye very
fixed indeed, replied, suiting the action to the word, 'A letter. From
Mr Nickleby. Bearer waits.'

'Won't you take a--a--'

Newman looked up, and smacked his lips.

'--A chair?' said Arthur Gride.

'No,' replied Newman. 'Thankee.'

Arthur opened the letter with trembling hands, and devoured its contents
with the utmost greediness; chuckling rapturously over it, and reading
it several times, before he could take it from before his eyes. So
many times did he peruse and re-peruse it, that Newman considered it
expedient to remind him of his presence.

'Answer,' said Newman. 'Bearer waits.'

'True,' replied old Arthur. 'Yes--yes; I almost forgot, I do declare.'

'I thought you were forgetting,' said Newman.

'Quite right to remind me, Mr Noggs. Oh, very right indeed,' said
Arthur. 'Yes. I'll write a line. I'm--I'm--rather flurried, Mr Noggs.
The news is--'

'Bad?' interrupted Newman.

'No, Mr Noggs, thank you; good, good. The very best of news. Sit down.
I'll get the pen and ink, and write a line in answer. I'll not detain
you long. I know you're a treasure to your master, Mr Noggs. He speaks
of you in such terms, sometimes, that, oh dear! you'd be astonished. I
may say that I do too, and always did. I always say the same of you.'

'That's "Curse Mr Noggs with all my heart!" then, if you do,' thought
Newman, as Gride hurried out.

The letter had fallen on the ground. Looking carefully about him for an
instant, Newman, impelled by curiosity to know the result of the design
he had overheard from his office closet, caught it up and rapidly read
as follows:


'GRIDE.

'I saw Bray again this morning, and proposed the day after tomorrow (as
you suggested) for the marriage. There is no objection on his part, and
all days are alike to his daughter. We will go together, and you must be
with me by seven in the morning. I need not tell you to be punctual.

'Make no further visits to the girl in the meantime. You have been
there, of late, much oftener than you should. She does not languish for
you, and it might have been dangerous. Restrain your youthful ardour for
eight-and-forty hours, and leave her to the father. You only undo what
he does, and does well.

'Yours,

'RALPH NICKLEBY.'


A footstep was heard without. Newman dropped the letter on the same spot
again, pressed it with his foot to prevent its fluttering away, regained
his seat in a single stride, and looked as vacant and unconscious as
ever mortal looked. Arthur Gride, after peering nervously about him,
spied it on the ground, picked it up, and sitting down to write, glanced
at Newman Noggs, who was staring at the wall with an intensity so
remarkable, that Arthur was quite alarmed.