from Miss Havisham begging Pip to come to see her. He went, and she told
him she realized now too late how wicked her plans had been, and begged
him with tears to try to forgive her. Pip, sore as his own heart was,
forgave her freely, and he was glad ever afterward that he had done so,
for that same evening, while he was standing near her, her yellowed
wedding veil, sweeping too near the hearth, caught fire and in an
instant her whole dress burst into flame. Pip worked desperately to put
out the fire, but she was so frightfully burned that it was plain she
could not live long. His own hands and arms were painfully injured, so
that he returned to London with one arm, for the time being, almost
useless.
Compeyson, meanwhile, made friends with Orlick, and between them they
wrote Pip a letter, decoying him to a lonely hut in the marshes. When he
came there Orlick threw a noose over his head, tied him to the wall and
would have killed him with a great stone-hammer but for Herbert, who
broke down the door and rushed in just in time to put Orlick to flight
and to save Pip's life. Herbert had picked up the letter Pip had thrown
down, read it, seen in it something suspicious, and had followed from
London.
Pip saw now there was no time to lose if he would save Magwitch. They
made haste to London, and when night fell, took the convict in the
rowboat and rowing a few miles down the river, waited to board a steamer
bound for Germany.
What happened next happened very speedily. They were about to board the
steamer when a boat containing Compeyson and some police shot out from
the bank, Compeyson calling on Magwitch to surrender. The two boats
clashed together, and the steamer, unable to stop, ran them both down.
At the same moment Magwitch seized Compeyson and they went into the
water together.
When Pip came to himself the steamer had gone, his own boat had sunk and
he and Herbert had been dragged aboard the other. A few minutes later
Magwitch was picked up, badly injured in the chest, and was handcuffed.
But they did not find Compeyson--the other had killed him in that
fearful struggle under water.
That night Magwitch was lodged in jail. Before many days he was tried
for returning to England and was sentenced to be hanged. But it was
clear before the trial ended that his injury would never let him live to
suffer this penalty.
And now, as he saw the convict lying day by day drawing nearer to death,
calling him "dear boy" and watching for his face, all the loathing and
repugnance Pip had felt for him vanished away. He had sat beside the
sick man at his trial; now he sat beside his cot each day in his cell,
holding his hand. He knew there could be no longer any possibility of
his taking the fortune the convict would leave, for, being condemned to
death, all Magwitch's property went to the Crown. But he did not tell
this to Magwitch.
One thing he discovered, however, which he told the dying man. This
concerned Estella. As the film of death came over the convict's face Pip
said:
"Dear Magwitch, you had a child once, whom you loved and lost. She is
living still. She is a lady and very beautiful. And I love her!" And
hearing this last glad news, Magwitch died.
Before this happened Herbert had left England for Egypt where his
business took him. Left alone, after the strain, Pip fell sick of a
fever and in the midst of this found himself arrested for debt.
That was the last he knew for many weeks. When he came to himself he
found Joe, the true-hearted blacksmith, nursing him. He had paid Pip's
debts. Miss Havisham was dead and Orlick had been sent to jail for
robbing Uncle Pumblechook's house.
Joe's faithfulness smote Pip with a sense of his own ingratitude. After
a visit to the old forge with Joe and Biddy, now Joe's wife, Pip felt
how true were the old friends. He buried for ever the past false pride
and folly and knew himself for all his trials a nobler man.
He sailed to Egypt, where he became a clerk in Herbert's business house,
and finally a partner, and it was eleven years before he was in England
again.
Then, one day he went down to the old ruined house where Miss Havisham
had lived.
He entered the weed-grown garden, and there on a bench, a sad, beautiful
widow, sat Estella. Her husband had treated her brutally till he died,
and she had learned through suffering to know that she had a heart and
had thrown away the one thing that could have made her happy--Pip's
love.
When Pip and she left the old house that day it was hand in hand, never
to part again.
LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
Published 1839
_Scene_: London, Portsmouth and the Country
_Time_: About 1830
CHARACTERS
Nicholas Nickleby A young gentleman
Mrs. Nickleby His mother
Kate His sister
Ralph Nickleby His uncle
A miserly money-lender
Noggs Ralph Nickleby's clerk
Squeers The proprietor of Dotheboys Hall, a
country school for boys
Mrs. Squeers His wife
Fanny Their daughter
Wackford Their son
Smike A poor drudge at Dotheboys Hall
Befriended by Nicholas. In reality Ralph Nickleby's son
Madame Mantalini A London dressmaker
Kate's first employer
Mr. Mantalini Her husband
Miss Knag Her forewoman
Sir Mulberry Hawk A dissolute man of the world
Lord Frederick Verisopht A young nobleman
Hawk's friend
Mr. Vincent Crummles Manager of a theater in Portsmouth
Mrs. Crummles His wife
Ninetta Their daughter
Known as "The Infant Phenomenon"
Mrs. Wititterly A would-be fashionable lady
Kate's second employer
The Cheeryble Brothers Twin merchants
Nicholas's benefactors
Bray A spendthrift and invalid
Madeline His daughter
Gride A miser
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
I
NICHOLAS AT DOTHEBOYS HALL
Once on a time, in England, there were two brothers named Nickleby who
had grown up to be very different men. Ralph was a rich and miserly
money-lender who gained his wealth by persecuting the poor of London--a
thin, cold-hearted, crafty man with a cruel smile. The other, who lived
in the country, was generous but poor, so that when he died he left his
wife and two children, Nicholas and Kate, with hardly a penny to keep
them from starving.
In their trouble the mother decided to go and try to obtain help from
her husband's brother, Ralph Nickleby.
Ralph was angry when he learned they had come to London, for he loved
his gold better than anything else in the world. He lived in Golden
Square, a very rich part of the city, in a great fine house, all alone
save for one servant, and he kept only one clerk.
This clerk, who was named Noggs, had one glass eye and long, bony
fingers which he had an uncomfortable habit of cracking together when he
spoke to any one. He had once been rich, but he had given his money to
Ralph Nickleby to invest for him, and the money-lender had ended by
getting it all, so that the poor man at last had to become the other's
clerk. When he first saw Nicholas and Kate, Noggs was sorry enough for
them, because he knew it would be little help they would get from their
stingy uncle.
Nicholas was proud-mettled, and his very bearing angered the
money-lender. He called him a young puppy, and a pauper besides, to
which Nicholas replied with heat and spirit. His mother succeeded in
smoothing things over for the time, and though Ralph Nickleby from that
moment hated the boy, he grudgingly promised her to get him a situation
as a teacher.
The school the miser selected was one called Dotheboys Hall, a long,
cold-looking, tumble-down building, one story high, in a dreary part of
the country. It belonged to a man named Squeers, a burly, ruffianly
hypocrite, who pretended to the world to be a kind, fatherly master, but
in fact treated his pupils with such cruelty that almost the only ones
ever sent there were poor little orphans, whose guardians were glad to
get rid of them. Squeers had an oily, wrinkled face and flat shiny hair,
brushed straight up from his forehead. His sleeves were too long and his
trousers too short, and he carried a leather whip about in his pocket to
punish the boys with.
Mrs. Squeers was a fat woman, who wore a soiled dressing-gown, kept her
hair in curl papers all day, and always had a yellow handkerchief tied
around her neck. She was as cruel as her husband. They had one daughter
and a son named Wackford. The latter they kept as plump as could be, so
he would serve as an advertisement of the school; the rest of the boys,
however, were pale and thin.
No wonder, for they got almost nothing to eat. For dinner all they had
was a bowl of thin porridge with a wedge of bread for a spoon. When they
had eaten the porridge they ate the spoon. Once a week they were forced
to swallow a dreadful mixture of brimstone and sulphur, because this
dose took away their appetites so that they ate less for several days
afterward. They were made to sleep five in a bed, and were poorly
clothed, for whenever a new boy came Mrs. Squeers took his clothes away
from him for Wackford, and made the new boy wear any old ones she could
find. They were allowed to write only letters telling how happy they
were there, and when letters came for any of them, Mrs. Squeers opened
them first and took for herself any money that they contained.
There was no attempt at teaching at Dotheboys Hall. The books were dirty
and torn and the classes were scarecrows. All the boys were made to work
hard at chores about the place, and were flogged almost every day, so
that their lives were miserable. What Squeers wanted was the money
their guardians paid him for keeping them.
This was the kind of school for which Nicholas found himself hired at
very low wages as a teacher.
He knew nothing about it yet, however, and thought himself lucky and his
uncle kind as he bade his mother and Kate good-by and took the coach for
Dotheboys Hall. Noggs, Ralph Nickleby's one-eyed clerk, was there to see
him off, and put a letter into his hand as he started. Nicholas was so
sad at leaving the two he loved best in the world, that he put it into
his pocket and for the time forgot all about it.
On his arrival next day Nicholas's heart sank into his boots. When he
saw the boys gathered in the barn, which served for a school-room, he
was ready to die with shame and disgust to think he was to be a teacher
in such a place.
But he had no money to take him back to London, and because he did not
want to make his mother and Kate unhappy, he wrote them as cheerfully as
he could. The letter Noggs had given him he remembered at last to read.
It told him the writer feared his uncle had deceived him in regard to
the school, and said if Nicholas needed a friend at any time, he would
find one in him, Noggs. These kind words from the old clerk brought
tears to Nicholas's eyes.
Of all the wretched boys there Nicholas pitied most a poor fellow named
Smike, whom Squeers had made a drudge. He was tall and lanky and wore a
little boy's suit, too short in the arms and legs. He had been placed
there when a child, and the man who had brought him had disappeared and
left no money to pay for his keep. Squeers's cruelties had made the
unfortunate lad simple-minded. Besides this he was lame. Nicholas helped
Smike all he could, and the poor fellow was so grateful that he followed
the other about like a slave.
Squeers's daughter was named Fanny. She had red hair, which she wore in
five exact rows on the top of her head. She thought herself very
beautiful and at once fell in love with Nicholas. As he could not help
showing that he did not like her, Miss Fanny grew spiteful and in
revenge began to persecute Smike, knowing Nicholas liked him.
Smike stood this as long as he could, but at last one day he ran away.
Squeers was furious. He took one chaise and Mrs. Squeers another, and
off they went in different directions to find him. Nicholas was
miserable, for he knew Smike would be caught. Sure enough, on the second
day Mrs. Squeers returned, dragging her victim. When Squeers arrived
Smike was taken from the cellar, where he had been locked up, and
brought before the assembled boys for a public thrashing.
At the rain of brutal blows which began Nicholas's blood boiled. He
stepped forward, crying "Stop!"
For answer Squeers struck him savagely in the face with his heavy ruler.
Then Nicholas threw away his self-control, and leaping on the bully, to
the unmeasured delight of the boys, took the ruler from him and thrashed
him until he cried for mercy. All the while Mrs. Squeers was trying to
drag the victor away by his coat tails, while the spiteful Miss Fanny
threw inkstands at his head.
When his arm was tired Nicholas gave Squeers a final blow, which knocked
him senseless into a corner, coolly went to his room, packed his few
belongings in a bundle and left Dotheboys Hall for ever.
He was two hundred and fifty miles from London and had very little
money. Snow was falling and for that night he took refuge in an empty
barn. In the morning he awoke, startled, to see a figure sitting by him.
It was Smike, who had followed him.
The poor creature fell on his knees. "Let me go with you!" he cried. "I
want no clothes and I can beg my food. I will be your faithful servant.
Only let me go with you."
"And so you shall!" said Nicholas. "Come!" He rose, took up his bundle,
gave his hand to Smike and so they set out toward London together.
II
NICHOLAS BECOMES AN ACTOR
Meanwhile Ralph Nickleby, the money-lender, had given Kate and her
mother leave to live in a rickety, unoccupied house which he owned. It
was a dingy building on an old wharf, but Noggs, the clerk, himself
cleaned and furnished one of its rooms so that it was fairly
comfortable. When they were settled Ralph took Kate to a dressmaker's,
where he got her a situation, hoping thus they would not call on him for
any money.
The dressmaker called herself Madame Mantalini. Her real name was
Muntle, but she thought the other sounded better. Her husband was a
plump, lazy man with huge side-whiskers, who spent most of the time
curling them and betting on horse-races. He gambled away all the money
Madame Mantalini made, but he pretended to be terribly fond of her, and
was always calling her his "little fairy" and his "heart's delight," so
that the silly woman always forgave him. He tried to kiss Kate the first
day, which made her detest him.
At Madame Mantalini's Kate had to stand up all day trying on dresses for
rich ladies, who were often rude to her. And because they preferred to
be waited on by the pretty, rosy-cheeked girl, Miss Knag, the ugly
forewoman, hated the child, and did all she could to make her unhappy.
Kate's mother used to wait each evening on the street corner outside,
and they would walk home together. They had no idea what trouble
Nicholas was having all this time, because he had written them such
cheerful letters, and whenever they felt sadder than usual they would
comfort themselves by thinking how well he was getting along and what a
fine position he had.
If they could have seen him when he finally got to London after running
away from Dotheboys Hall, they would hardly have known him. Both he and
poor Smike were hungry and muddy and tired. Remembering Noggs's kind
letter, Nicholas went first to the little garret where the clerk lived,
and through him he found a cheap room on the roof of the building, which
he rented for himself and Smike. Then he started out to find his mother
and Kate.
He would have hastened if he had guessed what was happening or how badly
Kate had been treated by Ralph Nickleby.
The evening before, as it happened, Kate had been invited to dinner at
her uncle's fine house, and there she had met two dissipated young
men--Lord Frederick Verisopht and Sir Mulberry Hawk, the latter of whom
had looked at her and talked to her so rudely that she had indignantly
left the table and gone home. She had not slept a wink that night, and
the next morning, to make her and her mother more wretched still, Ralph
Nickleby called with a letter he had just received from Fanny Squeers,
declaring that Nicholas was a thief and a scoundrel; that he had tried
to murder her father and all his family, and had run off with one of the
pupils of Dotheboys Hall.
To be sure, neither of them believed it, but if made them very unhappy.
And then, just as Ralph was reading them the last line of the letter, in
came Nicholas! You may be sure he comforted them and told them it was a
lie. He told Ralph what he thought of him also in stern language, which
made his uncle angrier than ever.
Then, seeing that his presence was making things worse, and realizing in
what poverty his dear ones were, and that they were so wholly dependent
on Ralph for help, Nicholas came to a very brave determination. He told
them that, as he could not help them himself, he would go away from them
until his fortune bettered. So, bidding them good-by, and telling his
uncle he should keep watch over them and that if any harm came to them
he would hold him accountable, Nicholas went sadly back to his garret
room and to Smike.
He tried hard for some days to find a situation, but failed, and he
would not take money from Noggs, who was so poor himself. So at last,
with Smike, he set out on foot for Portsmouth, which was a seaport,
thinking there they might find a chance to go as sailors in some ship.
At an inn on the way, however, Nicholas met a man who caused him to
change all his plans. This man was a Mr. Vincent Crummles. When Nicholas
first saw him in the inn he was teaching his two sons to make-believe
fight with swords. They were practising for a play, for Mr. Crummles was
manager of a theater in Portsmouth, and he proposed that Nicholas join
the company and become an actor.
There seemed nothing else to do, so Nicholas agreed, and next day they
went to the Portsmouth theater, where he was introduced to all the
company.
It was a very curious mixture. There was Mrs. Crummles, who took the
tickets, and little Miss Crummles, whom the bills called "The Infant
Phenomenon," and who was always said to be only ten years old. There was
a slim young man with weak eyes who played the lover, and a fat man with
a turned-up nose who played the funny countryman, and a shabby old man
whose breath smelled of gin, who took the part of the good old banker
with the gray side-whiskers. Then there was the lady who acted the rôle
of the wicked adventuress, and all the others.
Nicholas had to begin by writing a play which had parts for all of them,
and it proved a great success. Smike, whom he drilled himself, took the
part of a hungry boy, and he looked so starved, naturally, from his life
with Squeers, that he was tremendously applauded.
One of the other actors was so jealous at the play's success that he
sent Nicholas a challenge to a duel, but Nicholas walked on to the stage
before the whole company and knocked the actor down, and after that he
had no trouble and was a great favorite.
He might have stayed a long time at Mr. Crummles's theater, for he had
earned quite a good deal of money, but one day he got a letter from
Noggs, the clerk, telling him that all was not well with his mother and
Kate. And without waiting an hour, Nicholas resigned from the company
and, with Smike, set out again for London.
III
NICHOLAS COMES TO KATE'S RESCUE
Noggs was right. Ralph Nickleby had never ceased to persecute Kate and
her mother. In fact, when he had invited Kate to the dinner at which she
had been insulted, it was for his own evil purpose. He had done so,
hoping she might impress the foolish young Lord Verisopht, whose money
he was hoping to get, and whom he wished to attract to his house.
The young nobleman, as Ralph had intended, fell in love with Kate's
sweet face at once, and found out from her uncle where she lived.
She had lost her first position at the dressmaker's (for Mr. Mantalini
had thrown away his wife's money on race-horses until the sheriff had
seized the business), and she was acting now as companion to a Mrs.
Wititterly, a pale, languid lady who considered herself a very
fashionable person indeed, and was always suffering from imaginary
ailments. Lord Frederick and Sir Mulberry Hawk came often to the house,
pretending to flatter Mrs. Wititterly, but really to see Kate, who
heartily disliked them both.
Mrs. Wititterly at last came to realize that the two men at whose
attentions she had felt so flattered really cared only for her young
companion, and, being vain and jealous, she tormented and scolded Kate
till the poor girl's life was a burden.
At length, feeling that she could endure it no longer, Kate went to
Ralph and begged him with tears to help her find another situation, but
the money-lender refused to aid her. Noggs, the clerk, was sorry for
her, but could do nothing except write to Nicholas, and this was the
reason for the letter that had brought Nicholas post-haste back to
London.
Just what kind of persecution Kate had had to bear he learned by
accident almost as soon as he got there.
As he sat in a coffee-house he suddenly heard the words, "little Kate
Nickleby," spoken by a man behind him. He turned and listened.
Four men whom he had never seen were drinking toasts to her, and
Nicholas grew hot with rage at the coarse words they used. Sitting
there, scarcely able to contain himself, he heard the whole story of his
Uncle Ralph's plot, he heard his sister's sufferings derided, her
goodness jeered at, her beauty made the subject of insolent jests. One
of the four men, of course, was Lord Frederick Verisopht, and the
coarsest and the most vulgar of them all, as may be guessed, was Sir
Mulberry Hawk.
White with anger, Nicholas confronted the party and, throwing down his
card on the table, declared that the lady in question was his sister,
and demanded of Hawk his name. Hawk refused to answer. Nicholas called
him a liar and a coward, and seating himself, swore the other should not
leave his sight before he knew who he was.
When Hawk attempted to enter his carriage Nicholas sprang on to the
step. The other, in a fury, struck him with the whip, and Nicholas,
wrenching it from him, with one blow laid open Hawk's cheek. The horse,
frightened at the struggle, started off at a terrific speed, and
Nicholas felt himself hurled to the ground.
As he rose, he saw the runaway horse, whirling across the pavement,
upset the carriage with a crash of breaking glass. Nicholas had no doubt
that the man it held had been frightfully hurt if not killed. He felt
faint from his own fall, and it was with difficulty that he reached
Noggs's garret, whither, before the adventure in the coffee-room, he
had sent Smike to announce his coming.
His first step now was to write a letter to Ralph, telling him he at
last knew what a villain he was, and that he and his mother and sister
cast him off for ever, with shame that they had ever asked his aid. The
next day Nicholas took Kate from the Wititterly house and his mother
from her poor lodging, and rented them rooms in another part of the
city. Then he started out to find some employment for himself.
For a long time he was unsuccessful, but one day (and a very lucky day
Nicholas thought it ever afterward) he met on the street a round-faced,
jolly-looking old gentleman, with whom he fell into conversation, and
before long, almost without knowing it, he had told him all his
troubles.
This old gentleman was named Cheeryble, and the firm to which he
belonged was Cheeryble Brothers. He and his twin brother had come to
London, barefoot, when they were boys, and though they had grown very
rich, they had never forgotten what it was to be poor and wretched. The
old gentleman asked Nicholas to come with him to his office and there
they met the other Mr. Cheeryble.
Nicholas could scarcely tell the two brothers apart, for they were like
as two peas. They were precisely the same size, wore clothes just alike
and laughed in the same key. Each had even lost exactly the same number
of teeth. They were loved by everybody, for they went through life
doing good wherever they could. They both liked Nicholas at once, and
the upshot was that they gave him a position in their counting-room and
rented a pleasant cottage near by for his mother and Kate.
So there Nicholas took up work and they were all happy and
comfortable--very different from Ralph Nickleby, the money-lender, in
his fine house, with only the memory of his own wickedness for company.
IV
WHAT HAPPENED TO EVERYBODY