Nicholas seeks to employ himself in a New Capacity,and being unsuccessful, accepts an engagement asTutor in a Private Family.
The first care of Nicholas, next morning, was, to look aftersome room in which, until better times dawned upon him,he could contrive to exist, without trenching upon thehospitality of Newman Noggs, who would have slept upon thestairs with pleasure, so that his young friend was accommodated.
The vacant apartment to which the bill in the parlour windowbore reference, appeared, on inquiry, to be a small back-room onthe second floor, reclaimed from the leads, and overlooking a sootbespeckled prospect of tiles and chimney-pots. For the letting ofthis portion of the house from week to week, on reasonable terms,the parlour lodger was empowered to treat; he being deputed bythe landlord to dispose of the rooms as they became vacant, and tokeep a sharp look-out that the lodgers didn’t run away. As a meansof securing the punctual discharge of which last service he waspermitted to live rent-free, lest he should at any time be temptedto run away himself.
Of this chamber, Nicholas became the tenant; and having hireda few common articles of furniture from a neighbouring broker,and paid the first week’s hire in advance, out of a small fundraised by the conversion of some spare clothes into ready money,he sat himself down to ruminate upon his prospects, which, likethe prospect outside his window, were sufficiently confined and dingy. As they by no means improved on better acquaintance, andas familiarity breeds contempt, he resolved to banish them fromhis thoughts by dint of hard walking. So, taking up his hat, andleaving poor Smike to arrange and rearrange the room with asmuch delight as if it had been the costliest palace, he betookhimself to the streets, and mingled with the crowd which throngedthem.
Although a man may lose a sense of his own importance whenhe is a mere unit among a busy throng, all utterly regardless ofhim, it by no means follows that he can dispossess himself, withequal facility, of a very strong sense of the importance andmagnitude of his cares. The unhappy state of his own affairs wasthe one idea which occupied the brain of Nicholas, walk as fast ashe would; and when he tried to dislodge it by speculating on thesituation and prospects of the people who surrounded him, hecaught himself, in a few seconds, contrasting their condition withhis own, and gliding almost imperceptibly back into his old train ofthought again.
Occupied in these reflections, as he was making his way alongone of the great public thoroughfares of London, he chanced toraise his eyes to a blue board, whereon was inscribed, incharacters of gold, ‘General Agency Office; for places andsituations of all kinds inquire within.’ It was a shop-front, fitted upwith a gauze blind and an inner door; and in the window hung along and tempting array of written placards, announcing vacantplaces of every grade, from a secretary’s to a foot-boy’s.
Nicholas halted, instinctively, before this temple of promise,and ran his eye over the capital-text openings in life which were soprofusely displayed. When he had completed his survey he walked on a little way, and then back, and then on again; at length, afterpausing irresolutely several times before the door of the GeneralAgency Office, he made up his mind, and stepped in.
He found himself in a little floor-clothed room, with a high deskrailed off in one corner, behind which sat a lean youth withcunning eyes and a protruding chin, whose performances incapital-text darkened the window. He had a thick ledger lyingopen before him, and with the fingers of his right hand insertedbetween the leaves, and his eyes fixed on a very fat old lady in amob-cap—evidently the proprietress of the establishment—whowas airing herself at the fire, seemed to be only waiting herdirections to refer to some entries contained within its rustyclasps.
As there was a board outside, which acquainted the public thatservants-of-all-work were perpetually in waiting to be hired fromten till four, Nicholas knew at once that some half-dozen strongyoung women, each with pattens and an umbrella, who weresitting upon a form in one corner, were in attendance for thatpurpose: especially as the poor things looked anxious and weary.
He was not quite so certain of the callings and stations of twosmart young ladies who were in conversation with the fat ladybefore the fire, until—having sat himself down in a corner, andremarked that he would wait until the other customers had beenserved—the fat lady resumed the dialogue which his entrance hadinterrupted.
‘Cook, Tom,’ said the fat lady, still airing herself as aforesaid.
‘Cook,’ said Tom, turning over some leaves of the ledger. ‘Well!’
‘Read out an easy place or two,’ said the fat lady.
‘Pick out very light ones, if you please, young man,’ interposed a genteel female, in shepherd’s-plaid boots, who appeared to bethe client.
‘“Mrs Marker,”’ said Tom, reading, ‘“Russell Place, RussellSquare; offers eighteen guineas; tea and sugar found. Two infamily, and see very little company. Five servants kept. No man.
No followers.”’
‘Oh Lor!’ tittered the client. ‘That won’t do. Read another,young man, will you?’
‘“Mrs Wrymug,”’ said Tom, ‘“Pleasant Place, Finsbury. Wages,twelve guineas. No tea, no sugar. Serious family—”’
‘Ah! you needn’t mind reading that,’ interrupted the client.
‘“Three serious footmen,”’ said Tom, impressively.
‘Three? did you say?’ asked the client in an altered tone.
‘Three serious footmen,’ replied Tom. ‘“Cook, housemaid, andnursemaid; each female servant required to join the Little BethelCongregation three times every Sunday—with a serious footman.
If the cook is more serious than the footman, she will be expectedto improve the footman; if the footman is more serious than thecook, he will be expected to improve the cook.”’
‘I’ll take the address of that place,’ said the client; ‘I don’t knowbut what it mightn’t suit me pretty well.’
‘Here’s another,’ remarked Tom, turning over the leaves.
‘“Family of Mr Gallanbile, MP. Fifteen guineas, tea and sugar, andservants allowed to see male cousins, if godly. Note. Cold dinner inthe kitchen on the Sabbath, Mr Gallanbile being devoted to theObservance question. No victuals whatever cooked on the Lord’sDay, with the exception of dinner for Mr and Mrs Gallanbile,which, being a work of piety and necessity, is exempted. MrGallanbile dines late on the day of rest, in order to prevent the sinfulness of the cook’s dressing herself.”’
‘I don’t think that’ll answer as well as the other,’ said the client,after a little whispering with her friend. ‘I’ll take the otherdirection, if you please, young man. I can but come back again, if itdon’t do.’
Tom made out the address, as requested, and the genteel client,having satisfied the fat lady with a small fee, meanwhile, wentaway accompanied by her friend.
As Nicholas opened his mouth, to request the young man toturn to letter S, and let him know what secretaryships remainedundisposed of, there came into the office an applicant, in whosefavour he immediately retired, and whose appearance bothsurprised and interested him.
This was a young lady who could be scarcely eighteen, of veryslight and delicate figure, but exquisitely shaped, who, walkingtimidly up to the desk, made an inquiry, in a very low tone ofvoice, relative to some situation as governess, or companion to alady. She raised her veil, for an instant, while she preferred theinquiry, and disclosed a countenance of most uncommon beauty,though shaded by a cloud of sadness, which, in one so young, wasdoubly remarkable. Having received a card of reference to someperson on the books, she made the usual acknowledgment, andglided away.
She was neatly, but very quietly attired; so much so, indeed,that it seemed as though her dress, if it had been worn by one whoimparted fewer graces of her own to it, might have looked poorand shabby. Her attendant—for she had one—was a red-faced,round-eyed, slovenly girl, who, from a certain roughness about thebare arms that peeped from under her draggled shawl, and the half-washed-out traces of smut and blacklead which tattooed hercountenance, was clearly of a kin with the servants-of-all-work onthe form: between whom and herself there had passed variousgrins and glances, indicative of the freemasonry of the craft.
This girl followed her mistress; and, before Nicholas hadrecovered from the first effects of his surprise and admiration, theyoung lady was gone. It is not a matter of such complete and utterimprobability as some sober people may think, that he would havefollowed them out, had he not been restrained by what passedbetween the fat lady and her book-keeper.
‘When is she coming again, Tom?’ asked the fat lady.
‘Tomorrow morning,’ replied Tom, mending his pen.
‘Where have you sent her to?’ asked the fat lady.
‘Mrs Clark’s,’ replied Tom.
‘She’ll have a nice life of it, if she goes there,’ observed the fatlady, taking a pinch of snuff from a tin box.
Tom made no other reply than thrusting his tongue into hischeek, and pointing the feather of his pen towards Nicholas—reminders which elicited from the fat lady an inquiry, of ‘Now, sir,what can we do for you?’
Nicholas briefly replied, that he wanted to know whether therewas any such post to be had, as secretary or amanuensis to agentleman.
‘Any such!’ rejoined the mistress; ‘a-dozen-such. An’t there,Tom?’
‘I should think so,’ answered that young gentleman; and as hesaid it, he winked towards Nicholas, with a degree of familiaritywhich he, no doubt, intended for a rather flattering compliment,but with which Nicholas was most ungratefully disgusted.
Upon reference to the book, it appeared that the dozensecretaryships had dwindled down to one. Mr Gregsbury, thegreat member of parliament, of Manchester Buildings,Westminster, wanted a young man, to keep his papers andcorrespondence in order; and Nicholas was exactly the sort ofyoung man that Mr Gregsbury wanted.
‘I don’t know what the terms are, as he said he’d settle themhimself with the party,’ observed the fat lady; ‘but they must bepretty good ones, because he’s a member of parliament.’
Inexperienced as he was, Nicholas did not feel quite assured ofthe force of this reasoning, or the justice of this conclusion; butwithout troubling himself to question it, he took down the address,and resolved to wait upon Mr Gregsbury without delay.
‘I don’t know what the number is,’ said Tom; ‘but ManchesterBuildings isn’t a large place; and if the worst comes to the worst itwon’t take you very long to knock at all the doors on both sides ofthe way till you find him out. I say, what a good-looking gal thatwas, wasn’t she?’
‘What girl?’ demanded Nicholas, sternly.
‘Oh yes. I know—what gal, eh?’ whispered Tom, shutting oneeye, and cocking his chin in the air. ‘You didn’t see her, youdidn’t—I say, don’t you wish you was me, when she comestomorrow morning?’
Nicholas looked at the ugly clerk, as if he had a mind to rewardhis admiration of the young lady by beating the ledger about hisears, but he refrained, and strode haughtily out of the office;setting at defiance, in his indignation, those ancient laws ofchivalry, which not only made it proper and lawful for all goodknights to hear the praise of the ladies to whom they were devoted, but rendered it incumbent upon them to roam about theworld, and knock at head all such matter-of-fact and un-poeticalcharacters, as declined to exalt, above all the earth, damsels whomthey had never chanced to look upon or hear of—as if that wereany excuse!
Thinking no longer of his own misfortunes, but wondering whatcould be those of the beautiful girl he had seen, Nicholas, withmany wrong turns, and many inquiries, and almost as manymisdirections, bent his steps towards the place whither he hadbeen directed.
Within the precincts of the ancient city of Westminster, andwithin half a quarter of a mile of its ancient sanctuary, is a narrowand dirty region, the sanctuary of the smaller members ofParliament in modern days. It is all comprised in one street ofgloomy lodging-houses, from whose windows, in vacation-time,there frown long melancholy rows of bills, which say, as plainly asdid the countenances of their occupiers, ranged on ministerial andopposition benches in the session which slumbers with its fathers,‘To Let’, ‘To Let’. In busier periods of the year these billsdisappear, and the houses swarm with legislators. There arelegislators in the parlours, in the first floor, in the second, in thethird, in the garrets; the small apartments reek with the breath ofdeputations and delegates. In damp weather, the place is renderedclose, by the steams of moist acts of parliament and frouzypetitions; general postmen grow faint as they enter its infectedlimits, and shabby figures in quest of franks, flit restlessly to andfro like the troubled ghosts of Complete Letter-writers departed.
This is Manchester Buildings; and here, at all hours of the night,may be heard the rattling of latch-keys in their respective keyholes: with now and then—when a gust of wind sweepingacross the water which washes the Buildings’ feet, impels thesound towards its entrance—the weak, shrill voice of some youngmember practising tomorrow’s speech. All the livelong day, thereis a grinding of organs and clashing and clanging of little boxes ofmusic; for Manchester Buildings is an eel-pot, which has no outletbut its awkward mouth—a case-bottle which has no thoroughfare,and a short and narrow neck—and in this respect it may be typicalof the fate of some few among its more adventurous residents,who, after wriggling themselves into Parliament by violent effortsand contortions, find that it, too, is no thoroughfare for them; that,like Manchester Buildings, it leads to nothing beyond itself; andthat they are fain at last to back out, no wiser, no richer, not onewhit more famous, than they went in.
Into Manchester Buildings Nicholas turned, with the address ofthe great Mr Gregsbury in his hand. As there was a stream ofpeople pouring into a shabby house not far from the entrance, hewaited until they had made their way in, and then making up tothe servant, ventured to inquire if he knew where Mr Gregsburylived.
The servant was a very pale, shabby boy, who looked as if hehad slept underground from his infancy, as very likely he had. ‘MrGregsbury?’ said he; ‘Mr Gregsbury lodges here. It’s all right.
Come in!’
Nicholas thought he might as well get in while he could, so inhe walked; and he had no sooner done so, than the boy shut thedoor, and made off.
This was odd enough: but what was more embarrassing was,that all along the passage, and all along the narrow stairs, blocking up the window, and making the dark entry darker still, was aconfused crowd of persons with great importance depicted in theirlooks; who were, to all appearance, waiting in silent expectation ofsome coming event. From time to time, one man would whisperhis neighbour, or a little group would whisper together, and thenthe whisperers would nod fiercely to each other, or give theirheads a relentless shake, as if they were bent upon doingsomething very desperate, and were determined not to be put off,whatever happened.
As a few minutes elapsed without anything occurring to explainthis phenomenon, and as he felt his own position a peculiarlyuncomfortable one, Nicholas was on the point of seeking someinformation from the man next him, when a sudden move wasvisible on the stairs, and a voice was heard to cry, ‘Now,gentleman, have the goodness to walk up!’
So far from walking up, the gentlemen on the stairs began towalk down with great alacrity, and to entreat, with extraordinarypoliteness, that the gentlemen nearest the street would go first;the gentlemen nearest the street retorted, with equal courtesy,that they couldn’t think of such a thing on any account; but theydid it, without thinking of it, inasmuch as the other gentlemenpressing some half-dozen (among whom was Nicholas) forward,and closing up behind, pushed them, not merely up the stairs, butinto the very sitting-room of Mr Gregsbury, which they were thuscompelled to enter with most unseemly precipitation, and withoutthe means of retreat; the press behind them, more than filling theapartment.
‘Gentlemen,’ said Mr Gregsbury, ‘you are welcome. I amrejoiced to see you.’
For a gentleman who was rejoiced to see a body of visitors, MrGregsbury looked as uncomfortable as might be; but perhaps thiswas occasioned by senatorial gravity, and a statesmanlike habit ofkeeping his feelings under control. He was a tough, burly, thickheaded gentleman, with a loud voice, a pompous manner, atolerable command of sentences with no meaning in them, and, inshort, every requisite for a very good member indeed.
‘Now, gentlemen,’ said Mr Gregsbury, tossing a great bundle ofpapers into a wicker basket at his feet, and throwing himself backin his chair with his arms over the elbows, ‘you are dissatisfiedwith my conduct, I see by the newspapers.’
‘Yes, Mr Gregsbury, we are,’ said a plump old gentleman in aviolent heat, bursting out of the throng, and planting himself inthe front.
‘Do my eyes deceive me,’ said Mr Gregsbury, looking towardsthe speaker, ‘or is that my old friend Pugstyles?’
‘I am that man, and no other, sir,’ replied the plump oldgentleman.
‘Give me your hand, my worthy friend,’ said Mr Gregsbury.
‘Pugstyles, my dear friend, I am very sorry to see you here.’
‘I am very sorry to be here, sir,’ said Mr Pugstyles; ‘but yourconduct, Mr Gregsbury, has rendered this deputation from yourconstituents imperatively necessary.’
‘My conduct, Pugstyles,’ said Mr Gregsbury, looking roundupon the deputation with gracious magnanimity—’ my conducthas been, and ever will be, regulated by a sincere regard for thetrue and real interests of this great and happy country. Whether Ilook at home, or abroad; whether I behold the peaceful industriouscommunities of our island home: her rivers covered with steamboats, her roads with locomotives, her streets with cabs, herskies with balloons of a power and magnitude hitherto unknownin the history of aeronautics in this or any other nation—I say,whether I look merely at home, or, stretching my eyes farther,contemplate the boundless prospect of conquest and possession—achieved by British perseverance and British valour—which isoutspread before me, I clasp my hands, and turning my eyes to thebroad expanse above my head, exclaim, “Thank Heaven, I am aBriton!”’
The time had been, when this burst of enthusiasm would havebeen cheered to the very echo; but now, the deputation received itwith chilling coldness. The general impression seemed to be, thatas an explanation of Mr Gregsbury’s political conduct, it did notenter quite enough into detail; and one gentleman in the rear didnot scruple to remark aloud, that, for his purpose, it savouredrather too much of a ‘gammon’ tendency.
‘The meaning of that term—gammon,’ said Mr Gregsbury, ‘isunknown to me. If it means that I grow a little too fervid, orperhaps even hyperbolical, in extolling my native land, I admit thefull justice of the remark. I am proud of this free and happycountry. My form dilates, my eye glistens, my breast heaves, myheart swells, my bosom burns, when I call to mind her greatnessand her glory.’
‘We wish, sir,’ remarked Mr Pugstyles, calmly, ‘to ask you a fewquestions.’
‘If you please, gentlemen; my time is yours—and mycountry’s—and my country’s—’ said Mr Gregsbury.
This permission being conceded, Mr Pugstyles put on hisspectacles, and referred to a written paper which he drew from his pocket; whereupon nearly every other member of the deputationpulled a written paper from his pocket, to check Mr Pugstyles off,as he read the questions.
This done, Mr Pugstyles proceeded to business.
‘Question number one.—Whether, sir, you did not give avoluntary pledge previous to your election, that in event of yourbeing returned, you would immediately put down the practice ofcoughing and groaning in the House of Commons. And whetheryou did not submit to be coughed and groaned down in the veryfirst debate of the session, and have since made no effort to effect areform in this respect? Whether you did not also pledge yourself toastonish the government, and make them shrink in their shoes?
And whether you have astonished them, and made them shrink intheir shoes, or not?’
‘Go on to the next one, my dear Pugstyles,’ said Mr Gregsbury.
‘Have you any explanation to offer with reference to thatquestion, sir?’ asked Mr Pugstyles.
‘Certainly not,’ said Mr Gregsbury.
The members of the deputation looked fiercely at each other,and afterwards at the member. ‘Dear Pugstyles’ having taken avery long stare at Mr Gregsbury over the tops of his spectacles,resumed his list of inquiries.
‘Question number two.—Whether, sir, you did not likewise givea voluntary pledge that you would support your colleague on everyoccasion; and whether you did not, the night before last, deserthim and vote upon the other side, because the wife of a leader onthat other side had invited Mrs Gregsbury to an evening party?’
‘Go on,’ said Mr Gregsbury.
‘Nothing to say on that, either, sir?’ asked the spokesman.
‘Nothing whatever,’ replied Mr Gregsbury. The deputation, whohad only seen him at canvassing or election time, were struckdumb by his coolness. He didn’t appear like the same man; thenhe was all milk and honey; now he was all starch and vinegar. Butmen are so different at different times!
‘Question number three—and last,’ said Mr Pugstyles,emphatically. ‘Whether, sir, you did not state upon the hustings,that it was your firm and determined intention to opposeeverything proposed; to divide the house upon every question, tomove for returns on every subject, to place a motion on the booksevery day, and, in short, in your own memorable words, to play thevery devil with everything and everybody?’ With thiscomprehensive inquiry, Mr Pugstyles folded up his list ofquestions, as did all his backers.
Mr Gregsbury reflected, blew his nose, threw himself furtherback in his chair, came forward again, leaning his elbows on thetable, made a triangle with his two thumbs and his two forefingers,and tapping his nose with the apex th............