Stories from Dickens

  *I. HOW NICHOLAS NICKLEBY CAME TO DOTHEBOYS HALL*

  "Education.--At Mr. Wackford Squeers's Academy, Dotheboys Hall, at thedelightful village of Dotheboys, near Greta Bridge in Yorkshire, Youthare boarded, clothed, booked, furnished with pocket-money, provided withall necessaries, instructed in all languages living and dead,mathematics, orthography, geometry, astronomy, trigonometry, the use ofthe globes, algebra, single stick (if required), writing, arithmetic,fortification, and every other branch of classical literature. Terms,twenty guineas per annum. No extras, no vacations, and dietunparalleled. Mr. Squeers is in town, and attends daily, from one tillfour, at the Saracen's Head, Snow Hill. N.B. An able assistant wanted.Annual salary L5. A Master of Arts would be preferred."

  To Nicholas Nickleby, a young man of nineteen, who had come to Londonseeking his fortune, this advertisement in a daily paper seemed agodsend--that is, provided he could secure the position referred to inthe last two lines. It is true the salary was not large; but hereflected that his board and living would be included, and that a youngman of his education and ability would be bound to rise. He evenfancied himself, in a rosy-colored future, at the head of this modelschool, Dotheboys Hall, in the delightful village of Dotheboys, nearGreta Bridge, in Yorkshire.

  But it would not do to sit dreaming. Some one else might snap up thisgolden opportunity. Nicholas brushed his clothes carefully and lost notime in calling upon Mr. Squeers, at the tavern called the Saracen'sHead.

  Mr. Squeers's appearance was not prepossessing. He had but one eyewhich, while it was unquestionably useful, was decidedly not ornamental,being of a greenish gray and in shape resembling the fan-light of astreet-door. The blank side of his face was much wrinkled and puckeredup, which gave him a very sinister appearance, especially when hesmiled, at which times his expression bordered closely on the villanous.He was about two or three and fifty, and a trifle below the middle size;and he wore a white neckerchief with long ends, and a suit of scholasticblack.

  Mr. Squeers was standing in a box by one of the coffee-room fireplaces,fitted with one such table as is usually seen in coffee-rooms. In acorner of the seat was a very small deal trunk, tied round with a scantypiece of cord; and on the trunk was perched--his lace-up half-boots andcorduroy trousers dangling in the air--a diminutive boy, with hisshoulders drawn up to his ears, and his hands planted on his knees, whoglanced timidly at the schoolmaster, from time to time, with evidentdread. Presently the boy chanced to give a violent sneeze.

  "Hallo, sir!" growled the schoolmaster, turning round. "What's that,sir?"

  "Nothing, please, sir," replied the little boy.

  "Nothing, sir!" exclaimed Mr. Squeers.

  "Please, sir, I sneezed," rejoined the boy, trembling till the littletrunk shook under him.

  "Oh! sneezed, did you?" retorted Mr. Squeers. "Then what did you say'nothing' for, sir?"

  In default of a better answer to this question, the little boy screwed acouple of knuckles into each of his eyes and began to cry; wherefore Mr.Squeers knocked him off the trunk with a blow on one side of his face,and knocked him on again with a blow on the other.

  "Wait till I get you down to Yorkshire, my young gentleman," said Mr.Squeers, "and then I'll give you the rest. Will you hold that noise,sir?"

  "Ye-ye-yes," sobbed the little boy, rubbing his face very hard.

  "Then do so at once, sir," said Squeers. "Do you hear?"

  The little boy rubbed his face harder, as if to keep the tears back;and, beyond alternately sniffing and choking, gave no farther vent tohis emotions.

  "Mr. Squeers," said the waiter, looking in at this juncture, "here's agentleman asking for you at the bar."

  "Show the gentleman in, Richard," replied Mr. Squeers, in a soft voice."Put your handkerchief in your pocket, you little scoundrel!"

  The schoolmaster had scarcely uttered these words in a fierce whisper,when the stranger entered. Affecting not to see him, Mr. Squeersfeigned to be intent upon mending a pen, and offering benevolent adviceto his youthful pupil.

  "My dear child," said Mr. Squeers, "all people have their trials. Thisearly trial of yours that is fit to make your little heart burst andyour very eyes come out of your head with crying, what is it? Nothing;less than nothing. You are leaving your friends, but you will have afather in me, my dear, and a mother in Mrs. Squeers. At the delightfulvillage of Dotheboys, near Greta Bridge in Yorkshire, where youth areboarded, clothed, booked, washed, furnished with pocket-money, providedwith all necessaries--"

  "Mr. Squeers, I believe," said Nicholas Nickleby, as that worthy manstopped to cough.

  "The same, sir. What can I do for you?"

  "I came in answer to an advertisement in this morning's paper," saidNicholas. "I believe you desire an assistant."

  "I do, sir," rejoined Mr. Squeers, coolly; "but if you are applying forthe place, don't you think you're too young?"

  "I hope not, sir, and I have a fair education. I could--"

  "Could what?" interrupted the schoolmaster. "Could you lick the boys ifthey needed it?"

  "I do not usually believe in that sort of punishment--" hesitatedNicholas.

  "Could you do it?" urged Mr. Squeers.

  "I think--if they needed it--I could lick anybody in your school,"smiled Nicholas.

  "Well, why didn't you say so? I guess I had better take you. I've gotto leave town at eight o'clock to-morrow morning, and haven't time tolook around. So be on hand sharp!"

  Nicholas thanked him and promised to be on hand.

  The next day he was as good as his word, and reached the tavern a littlein advance of the appointed hour.

  He found Mr. Squeers sitting at breakfast, with the little boy beforenoticed, and four others who had turned up by some lucky chance sincethe interview of the previous day, ranged in a row on the opposite seat.Mr. Squeers had before him a small measure of coffee, a plate of hottoast, and a cold round of beef; but he was at that moment intent onpreparing breakfast for the little boys.

  "This is twopenn'orth of milk, is it, waiter?" said he, looking downinto a large blue mug, and slanting it gently, so as to get an accurateview of the quantity of liquid contained in it.

  "That's twopenn'orth, sir," replied the waiter.

  "What a rare article milk is, to be sure, in London!" said Mr. Squeers,with a sigh. "Just fill that mug up with lukewarm water, William, willyou?"

  "To the wery top, sir?" inquired the waiter. "Why, the milk will bedrownded."

  "Never you mind that," replied Mr. Squeers. "Serve it right for being sodear! You ordered that thick bread and butter for three, did you?"

  "Coming directly, sir."

  "You needn't hurry yourself," said Squeers; "there's plenty of time.Conquer your passions, boys, and don't be eager after vittles." As heuttered this moral precept, Mr. Squeers took a large bite out of thecold beef, and recognized Nicholas.

  "Sit down, Mr. Nickleby," said Squeers. "Here we are, a breakfasting,you see!"

  Nicholas did not see that anybody was breakfasting except Mr. Squeers;but he bowed with all becoming reverence, and looked as cheerful as hecould.

  "Oh! that's the milk and water, is it, William?" said Squeers. "Verygood; don't forget the bread and butter presently."

  At this fresh mention of the bread and butter the five little boyslooked very eager, and followed the waiter out with their eyes;meanwhile Mr. Squeers tasted the milk and water.

  "Ah!" said that gentleman, smacking his lips, "here's richness! Thinkof the many beggars and orphans in the streets that would be glad ofthis, little boys. A shocking thing hunger is, isn't it, Mr. Nickleby?"

  "Very shocking, sir," said Nicholas.

  "When I say number one," pursued Mr. Squeers, putting the mug before thechildren, "the boy on the left hand nearest the window may take a drink;and when I say number two, the boy next him will go in, and so till wecome to number five, which is the last boy. Are you ready?"

  "Yes, sir," cried all the little boys with great ea
gerness.

  "That's right," said Squeers, calmly getting on with his breakfast;"keep ready till I tell you to begin. Subdue your appetites, my dears,and you've conquered human natur. This is the way we inculcate strengthof mind, Mr. Nickleby," said the schoolmaster, turning to Nicholas, andspeaking with his mouth very full of beef and toast.

  Nicholas murmured something--he knew not what--in reply; and the littleboys, dividing their gaze between the mug, the bread and butter (whichhad by this time arrived), and every morsel which Mr. Squeers took intohis mouth, remained with strained eyes in torments of expectation.

  "Thank God for a good breakfast," said Squeers when he had finished."Number one may take a drink."

  Number one seized the mug ravenously, and had just drunk enough to makehim wish for more, when Mr. Squeers gave the signal for number two, whogave up at the same interesting moment to number three; and the processwas repeated until the milk and water terminated with number five.

  "And now," said the schoolmaster, dividing the bread and butter forthree into as many portions as there were children, "you had better looksharp with your breakfast, for the horn will blow in a minute or two,and then every boy leaves off."

  Permission being thus given to fall to, the boys began to eatvoraciously and in desperate haste; while the schoolmaster (who was inhigh good-humor after his meal) picked his teeth with a fork, and lookedsmilingly on. In a very short time the horn was heard.

  "I thought it wouldn't be long," said Squeers, jumping up and producinga little basket from under the seat; "put what you haven't had time toeat in here, boys! You'll want it on the road!"

  Nicholas was considerably startled by these very economicalarrangements; but he had no time to reflect upon them, for the littleboys had to be got up to the top of the coach, and this task was in hisdepartment. But soon they were all stowed away, and the coach startedoff with a flourish.

  The journey proved long and hard, however. They were detained severaltimes by the bad roads and inclement weather, so that it was not untilnightfall of the second day that they reached their destination.

  "Jump out," said Squeers. "Hallo there! come and put this horse up. Bequick, will you!"

  While the schoolmaster was uttering these and other impatient cries,Nicholas had time to observe that the school was a long, cold-lookinghouse, one story high, with a few straggling outbuildings behind, and abarn and stable adjoining. After the lapse of a minute or two, thenoise of somebody unlocking the yard-gate was heard, and presently atall, lean boy, with a lantern in his hand, issued forth.

  "Is that you, Smike?" cried Squeers.

  "Yes, sir," replied the boy.

  "Then why the devil didn't you come before?"

  "Please, sir, I fell asleep over the fire," answered Smike, withhumility.

  "Fire! what fire? Where's there a fire?" demanded the schoolmaster,sharply.

  "Only in the kitchen, sir," replied the boy. "Missus said, as I wassitting up, I might go in there for a warm."

  "Your Missus is a fool," retorted Squeers. "You'd have been a deuceddeal more wakeful in the cold, I'll engage."

  By this time Mr. Squeers had dismounted; and after ordering the boy tosee to the pony, and to take care that he hadn't any more corn thatnight, he told Nicholas to wait at the front door a minute while he wentround and let him in.

  A host of unpleasant misgivings, which had been crowding upon Nicholasduring the whole journey, thronged into his mind with redoubled forcewhen he was left alone. And as he looked up at the dreary house anddark windows, and upon the wild country round, covered with snow, hefelt a depression of heart and spirit which he had never experiencedbefore.

  Presently he was ushered into a cheerless-looking parlor where stood alarge, angular woman about half a head taller than Mr. Squeers.

  "This is the new young man, my dear," said that gentleman.

  "Oh," replied Mrs. Squeers, nodding her head at Nicholas, and eyeing himcoldly from top to toe.

  "He'll take a meal with us to-night," said Squeers, "and go among theboys to-morrow morning. You can give him a shakedown here, to-night,can't you?"

  "We must manage it somehow," replied the lady. "You don't much mind howyou sleep, I suppose, sir?"

  "No, indeed," replied Nicholas, "I am not particular."

  "That's lucky," said Mrs. Squeers. And as the lady's humor wasconsidered to lie chiefly in retort, Mr. Squeers laughed heartily, andseemed to expect that Nicholas should do the same.

  After some conversation between the master and mistress relative to thesuccess of Mr. Squeers's trip, and the people who had paid, and thepeople who had made default in payment, a young servant girl brought ina Yorkshire pie and some cold beef, which being set upon the table, theboy Smike appeared with a jug of ale.

  Mr. Squeers was emptying his great-coat pockets of letters to differentboys, and other small documents, which he had brought down in them. Theboy glanced, with an anxious and timid expression, at the papers, as ifwith a sickly hope that one among them might relate to him. The lookwas a very painful one, and went to Nicholas's heart at once, for ittold a long and very sad history.

  It induced him to consider the boy more attentively, and he wassurprised to observe the extraordinary mixture of garments which formedhis dress. Although he could not have been less than eighteen ornineteen years old, and was tall for that age, he wore a skeleton suit,such as is usually put upon very little boys, and which, though mostabsurdly short in the arms and legs, was quite wide enough for his thinbody. In order that the lower part of his legs might be in perfectkeeping with this singular dress, he had a very large pair of boots,originally made for tops, which might have been once worn by some stoutfarmer, but were now too patched and tattered for a beggar. He was lame;and as he feigned to be busy in arranging the table, he glanced at theletters with a look so keen, and yet so dispirited and hopeless, thatNicholas could hardly bear to watch him.

  "What are you bothering about there, Smike?" cried Mrs. Squeers; "letthe things alone, can't you?"

  "Eh!" said Squeers, looking up. "Oh! it's you, is it?"

  "Yes, sir," replied the youth, pressing his hands together, as though tocontrol, by force, the nervous wandering of his fingers; "Is there--"

  "Well!" said Squeers.

  "Have you--did anybody--has nothing been heard--about me?"

  "Devil a bit," replied Squeers, testily.

  The lad withdrew his eyes, and, putting his hand to his face, movedtowards the door.

  "Not a word," resumed Squeers, "and never will be. Now, this is apretty sort of thing, isn't it, that you should have been left here allthese years, and no money paid after the first six--nor no notice taken,nor no clue to be got who you belong to? It's a pretty sort of thingthat I should have to feed a great fellow like you, and never hope toget one penny for it, isn't it?"

  The boy put his hand to his head as if he were making an effort torecollect something, and then, looking vacantly at his questioner,gradually broke into a smile, and limped away.

  "I'll tell you what, Squeers," remarked his wife, as the door closed, "Ithink that young chap's turning silly."

  "I hope not," said the schoolmaster; "for he's a handy fellowout-of-doors, and worth his meat and drink anyway. I should think he'dhave wit enough for us, though, if he was."

  Supper being over, Mr. Squeers yawned fearfully and was of opinion thatit was high time to go to bed. Upon this, Mrs. Squeers and a servantdragged in a small straw mattress and a couple of blankets, and arrangedthem into a couch for Nicholas.

  "We'll put you into a regular bedroom with the boys to-morrow,Nickleby," said Squeers. "Good-night. Seven o'clock, in the morning,mind."

  The next morning, when Nicholas appeared in the main room, he found Mrs.Squeers very much distressed.

  "I can't find the school spoon," she said.

  "Never mind it, my dear," observed Squeers in a soothing manner; "it'sof no consequence."

  "No consequence! why, how you talk!" retorted Mr
s. Squeers, sharply;"isn't it brimstone morning?"

  "I forgot, my dear," rejoined Squeers; "yes, it certainly is. We purifythe boys' bloods now and then, Nickleby."

  "Purify fiddlesticks' ends!" said his lady. "Don't think, young man,that we go to the expense of brimstone and molasses, just to purifythem; because if you think we carry on the business in that way, you'llfind yourself mistaken, and so I tell you plainly."

  "My dear," said Squeers, frowning. "Hem!"

  "Oh! nonsense," rejoined Mrs. Squeers. "If the young man comes to be ateacher here, let him understand, at once, that we don't want anyfoolery about the boys. They have the brimstone and treacle, partlybecause if they hadn't something or other in the way of medicine they'dbe always ailing and giving a world of trouble, and partly because itspoils their appetites and comes cheaper than breakfast and dinner. Soit does them good and us good at the same time, and that's fair enough,I'm sure."

  A vast deal of searching and rummaging ensued, and it proving fruitless,Smike was called in, and pushed by Mrs. Squeers and boxed by Mr.Squeers; which course of treatment brightening his intellects, enabledhim to suggest that possibly Mrs. Squeers might have the spoon in herpocket--as indeed turned out to be the case. But as Mrs. Squeers hadpreviously protested that she was quite certain she had not got it,Smike received another box on the ear for presuming to contradict hismistress; so that he gained nothing of advantage by his idea.

  "But come," said Squeers, "let's go to the schoolroom; and lend me ahand with my school-coat, will you?"

  Nicholas assisted his master to put on an old shooting-jacket; andSqueers, arming himself with his cane, led the way across a yard, to adoor in the rear of the house.

  "There," said the schoolmaster, as they stepped in together; "this isour shop, Nickleby!"

  It was such a crowded scene, and there were so many objects to attractattention, that, at first, Nicholas stared about him, really withoutseeing anything at all. By degrees, however, the place resolved itselfinto a bare and dirty room, with a couple of windows, stopped up withold copybooks and paper. There were two rickety desks, cut and notched,and inked in every possible way; two or three forms; a detached desk forSqueers, and another for his assistant. The ceiling was supported, likethat of a barn, by crossbeams and rafters, and the walls were so stainedand discolored that it was impossible to tell whether they had ever beentouched with paint or whitewash.

  But the pupils! How the last faint traces of hope, the remotestglimmering of any good to be derived from his efforts in this den, fadedfrom the mind of Nicholas as he looked in dismay around! Pale andhaggard faces, lank and bony figures, children with the countenances ofold men, boys of stunted growth, and others whose long, meagre legswould hardly bear their stooping bodies, all crowded on the viewtogether.

  NICHOLAS AND SMIKE.]

  And yet this scene, painful as it was, had its grotesque features. Mrs.Squeers stood at one of the desks, presiding over an immense basin ofbrimstone and treacle, of which delicious compound she administered alarge instalment to each boy in succession, using for the purpose acommon wooden spoon, which might have been originally manufactured forsome gigantic top, and which widened every young gentleman's mouthconsiderably; they being all obliged, under heavy penalties, to take inthe whole of the bowl at a gulp.

  "Now," said Squeers, giving the desk a great rap with his cane whichmade half the little boys nearly jump out of their boots, "is thatphysicking over?"

  "Just over," said Mrs. Squeers, choking the last boy in her hurry, andtapping the crown of his head with the wooden spoon to restore him."Here, you Smike; take away now. Look sharp!"

  Smike shuffled out with the basin, and Mrs. Squeers having called up alittle boy with a curly head and wiped her hands upon it, hurried outafter him into a species of wash-house, where there was a small fire anda large kettle, together with a number of little wooden bowls which werearranged upon a board. Into these bowls Mrs. Squeers, assisted by thehungry servant, poured a brown composition, which looked like dilutedpincushions without the covers, and was called porridge. A minute wedgeof brown bread was inserted in each bowl, and when they had eaten theirporridge by means of the bread, the boys ate the bread itself, and hadfinished their breakfast; whereupon Mr. Squeers said, in a solemn voice,"For what we have received, may the Lord make us truly thankful!"--andwent away to his own.

  Nicholas filled his stomach with a bowl of porridge, for much the samereason which induces some savages to swallow earth--lest they should behungry when there is nothing to eat. Having disposed of a slice ofbread and butter, allotted to him in virtue of his office, he sathimself down to wait for school-time.

  He could not but observe how silent and sad the boys all seemed to be.There was none of the noise and clamor of a schoolroom; none of itsboisterous play or hearty mirth. The children sat crouching andshivering together, and seemed to lack the spirit to move about. Theonly pupil who seemed at all playful was Master Squeers, son of themaster, and as his chief amusement was to tread upon the other boys'toes in his new boots, his flow of spirits was rather disagreeable thanotherwise.

  After some half-hour's delay Mr. Squeers reappeared, and the boys tooktheir places and their books, of which latter there might be about oneto eight learners. A few minutes having elapsed, during which Mr.Squeers looked very profound, as if he had a perfect apprehension ofwhat was inside all the books, and could say every word of theircontents by heart if he only chose to take the trouble, that gentlemancalled up the first class.

  Obedient to this summons there ranged themselves in front of theschoolmaster's desk half-a-dozen scarecrows, out at knees and elbows,one of whom placed a torn and filthy book beneath his learned eye.

  "This is the first class in English spelling and philosophy, Nickleby,"said Squeers, beckoning Nicholas to stand beside him. "We'll get up aLatin one, and hand that over to you. Now, then, where's the first boy?"

  "Please, sir, he's cleaning the back parlor window," said the temporaryhead of the class.

  "So he is, to be sure," rejoined Squeers. "We go upon the practical modeof teaching, Nickleby; the regular education system. C-l-e-a-n, clean,verb active, to make bright, to scour. When the boy knows this out ofbook, he goes and does it. Second boy, what's a horse?"

  "A beast, sir," replied the boy.

  "So it is," said Squeers, "and as you're perfect in that, go and lookafter _my_ horse, and rub him down well, or I'll rub you down. The restof the class go and draw water till somebody tells you to leave off, forit's washing-day to-morrow, and they want the coppers filled."

  So saying, he dismissed the first class to their experiments inpractical philosophy, and eyed Nicholas with a look, half cunning andhalf doubtful, as if he were not altogether certain what he might thinkof him by this time.

  "That's the way we do it, Nickleby," he said, after a pause.

  Nicholas shrugged his shoulders in a manner that was scarcelyperceptible, and said he saw it was.

  "And a very good way it is, too," said Squeers. "Now, just take themfourteen little boys and hear them some reading, because, you know, youmust begin to be useful. Idling about here won't do."

  Mr. Squeers said this, as if it had suddenly occurred to him, eitherthat he must not say too much to his assistant, or that his assistantdid not say enough to him in praise of the establishment. The childrenwere arranged in a semicircle round the new master, and he was soonlistening to their dull, drawling recital of those stories of interestwhich are to be found in the spelling books.

  In this exciting occupation the morning lagged heavily on. At oneo'clock the boys, having previously had their appetites thoroughly takenaway by stir-about and potatoes, sat down in the kitchen to some hardsalt beef, of which Nicholas was graciously permitted to take hisportion to his own solitary desk, to eat it there in peace. After this,there was another hour of crouching in the schoolroom and shivering withcold; and this was a fair sample of the school day at Dotheboys Hall.

  There was a small s
tove in the corner of the room, and by it Nicholassat down, when the school was dismissed, so heavy-hearted that it seemedto him as though every bit of joy had gone out of the world. Thecruelty and coarseness of Squeers were revolting, and yet Nicholas didnot know how to resent it or which way to turn. He had cast his lothere, and here he must abide.

  As he was absorbed in these meditations, he all at once encountered theupturned face of Smike, who was on his knees before the stove, picking afew stray cinders from the hearth and planting them on the fire. He hadpaused to steal a look at Nicholas, and when he saw that he wasobserved, shrank back, as if expecting a blow.

  "You need not fear me," said Nicholas, kindly. "Are you cold?"

  "N-n-o."

  "You are shivering."

  "I am not cold," replied Smike, quickly. "I am used to it."

  There was such an obvious fear of giving offence in his manner, and hewas such a timid, broken-spirited creature, that Nicholas could not helpexclaiming, "Poor fellow!"

  If he had struck the drudge, he would have slunk away without a word.But now he burst into tears.

  "Oh, dear, oh, dear!" he cried, covering his face with his cracked andhorny hands. "My heart will break. It will, it will!"

  "Hush!" said Nicholas, laying his hand upon his shoulder. "Be a man;you are nearly one by years, God help you."

  "By years!" cried Smike. "Oh, dear, dear, how many of them! How manyof them since I was a little child, younger than any that are here now!Where are they all?"

  "Whom do you speak of?" inquired Nicholas, wishing to rouse the poor,half-witted creature to reason. "Tell me."

  "My friends," he replied, "myself--my--oh! what sufferings mine havebeen!"

  "There is always hope," said Nicholas; he knew not what to say.

  "No," rejoined the other, "no; none for me. Do you remember the boythat died here?"

  "I was not here, you know," said Nicholas, gently; "but what of him?"

  "Why," replied the youth, drawing closer to his questioner's side, "Iwas with him at night, and when it was all silent he cried no more forfriends he wished to come and sit with him, but began to see faces roundhis bed that came from home; he said they smiled, and talked to him; andhe died at last lifting his head to kiss them. Do you hear?"

  "Yes, yes," rejoined Nicholas.

  "What faces will smile on me when I die!" cried his companion,shivering. "Who will talk to me in those long nights! They cannot comefrom home; they would frighten me, if they did, for I don't know what itis, and shouldn't know them. Pain and fear, pain and fear for me, aliveor dead. No hope, no hope!"

  The bell rang to bed, and the boy, subsiding at the sound into his usuallistless state, crept away as if anxious to avoid notice. It was with aheavy heart that Nicholas soon afterwards--no, not retired; there was noretirement there--followed to his dirty and crowded dormitory.