Dickensians! discussion

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

Installments 12 - 15 : Chapters 37 - 48



"The Brothers Cheeryble" - Harold Copping - 1924 (Colour lithography from "Character Sketches from Dickens")

LINKS TO CHAPTERS

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XII
Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

XIII
Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

XIV
Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

XV
Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

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Installment 12:

Chapter 37: Nicholas finds further Favour in the Eyes of the brothers Cheeryble and Mr Timothy Linkinwater. The brothers give a Banquet on a great Annual Occasion. Nicholas, on returning Home from it, receives a mysterious and important Disclosure from the Lips of Mrs. Nickleby

The square where the Cheeryble brothers have their counting house is:

“a quiet, little-frequented, retired spot, favourable to melancholy and contemplation, and appointments of long-waiting; … It is so quiet, that you can almost hear the ticking of your own watch when you stop to cool in its refreshing atmosphere.”

Within the Cheeryble brothers’ offices Mr Timothy Linkinwater performs his tasks scrupulously, as he has done ever day, and keeps everything in meticulous order:

“the old clerk performed the minutest actions of the day, and arranged the minutest articles in the little room, in a precise and regular order, which could not have been exceeded if it had actually been a real glass case, fitted with the choicest curiosities.”

A blind blackbird whom Tim had rescued from starvation, lives there in a large snug cage and:

“at that moment it would be very difficult to determine which of the two was the happier, the bird or Tim Linkinwater.”

Everything and everybody in the counting house seems to reflect the kindly spirit of the Cheeryble brothers. Nicholas takes all this in on his very first morning, and works hard - even in his own time - to learn bookkeeping and the business. Tim Linkinwater is anxious about Nicholas’s ability, and worries about entrusting the precious ledgers to such an inexperienced young man, but after two weeks lets him try his hand, watching with strained and eager eyes:



“Nicholas initiated into the arcana of Tim’s books” - Charles Stanley Reinhart - 1875

After a while Tim is convinced and feels triumphant:

“’There an’t such a young man as this in all London,’ said Tim, clapping Nicholas on the back; ‘not one. Don’t tell me! The city can’t produce his equal. I challenge the city to do it!’”



“Mr. Linkinwater Intimates His Approval of Nicholas” - Hablot K. Browne (Phiz) - 1839

Tim Linkinwater feels gratified that the Cheerybles’ business will go on as well as ever even after he has died.



“Nicholas in the Counting House” - Harry Furniss - 1910

There is a party later, in honour of Tim’s birthday. The brothers Cheeryble have bought a costly gold snuff-box for him, and enclose a bank note worth more than its value ten times told.

Nicholas, a friend of Tim’s, and Tim’s sister attend the party. She is particularly upset not to have her cap, and a boy has been sent to collect it from where she lives. Even though the boarding house where she lives is only 5 yards away, the boy is taking a long time. The narrator tells us that it is not surprising, as the boy has been diverted several times:

“he had taken the air, in the first instance, behind a hackney coach that went to Camberwell, and had followed two Punches afterwards and had seen the Stilts home to their own door.”

Eventually the cap arrives safely, and they are seated for dinner. The brothers say grace between them:

“Whereupon the apoplectic butler whisked off the top of the soup tureen, and shot, all at once, into a state of violent activity.”

There is a great deal of animated conversation. Tim’s younger sister talks about incidents in Tim’s life that she has been told about. Everyone teases him good-naturedly about a sweetheart he was reputed to have had 35 years earlier, and toasts Mr. Linkinwater, with champagne and port wine. In a quieter moment, Ned Cheeryble also toasts their mother, who had died on the same day.

“‘Good Lord!’ thought Nicholas, ‘and there are scores of people of their own station, knowing all this, and twenty thousand times more, who wouldn’t ask these men to dinner because they eat with their knives and never went to school!’”

Ned then orders a magnum of double diamond [beer], and all the servants are also invited to to join in on this annual occasion for merriment. One of the servants makes an extra toast to their:

“free, generous-spirited masters as them as has treated us so handsome this day. And here’s thanking of ‘em for all their goodness as is so constancy a diffusing of itself over everywhere, and wishing they may live long and die happy!”

Later, they play cards, have coffee and sandwiches and and a bowl of bishop [fruit punch]. Tim, a little tipsy by now, confides in Nicholas that he had indeed courted a beautiful woman, but she had been in such a hurry to get married, and he delayed too long so that she married someone else. He bought a print for himself, of someone who looks just like her, to remember her by.

Nicholas doesn’t return home until midnight, to find his mother and Smike waiting up for him, having expected him to return two hours earlier. But they had got one well, because Mrs. Nickleby had related a long complicated history of her family to Smike:

“and Smike had sat wondering what it was all about, and whether it was learnt from a book, or said out of Mrs. Nickleby’s own head; so that they got on together very pleasantly.”

Nicholas begins to tell them about the party, whereupon Mrs. Nickleby hints heavily to Smike that he should be in bed. Once they are alone Mrs Nickleby asks Nicholas to excuse her, saying that she knows he won’t mind but she prefers not to put her nightcap on in front of anyone else, especially a young man. She chatters on in her usual way, and Nicholas laughs, and tells her all about his evening, saying that he wished Kate had also been able to hear it all.

However Mrs Nickleby says that Kate is already in bed, and has been for a couple of hours. She is glad, because she would like his advice:

“’it’s a very delightful and consoling thing to have a grown-up son that one can put confidence in, and advise with; indeed I don’t know any use there would be in having sons at all, unless people could put confidence in them.’
Nicholas stopped in the middle of a sleepy yawn, as his mother began to speak: and looked at her with fixed attention.”

After several verbal diversions and prevarication, during which Nicholas treats her kindly, Mrs Nickleby reaches her intended subject of the gentleman in the next house. Nicholas is amazed at this new topic, especially when his mother tells him that the bottom of his garden joins the bottom of theirs, and that he tends to stare at her. She says she had thought at first, that he might be curious about them all, as new neighbours:

“’But when he began to throw his cucumbers over our wall—’
‘To throw his cucumbers over our wall!’ repeated Nicholas, in great astonishment.
‘Yes, Nicholas, my dear,’ replied Mrs. Nickleby in a very serious tone; ‘his cucumbers over our wall. And vegetable marrows likewise.’
‘Confound his impudence!’ said Nicholas, firing immediately. ‘What does he mean by that?’”

But Mrs Nickleby looks both placidly triumphant and confusedly modest. Remembering Nicholas’s father making proposals, she goes on:

“to be sure there can be no doubt that he has taken a very singular way of showing it. Still at the same time, his attentions are … a flattering sort of thing; and although I should never dream of marrying again with a dear girl like Kate still unsettled in life—”

She tells Nicholas that her admirer has been whispering to her.

As Nicholas expostulates, his mother says that she feels sorry for the man, and hopes he will not do anything rash, and goes on to recount several cases of which she has read in the papers. Nicholas is vexed and concerned but cannot help smiling, and tries to be patient:

“what has he done, mother, what has he said? …You know, there is no language of vegetables, which converts a cucumber into a formal declaration of attachment.”

His mother tells him that the neighbour has done all sort of things, looking at her very expressively with his hand on his heart, very respectfully and tenderly, and:

“there are the presents which come pouring over the wall every day, and very fine they certainly are, very fine; we had one of the cucumbers at dinner yesterday, and think of pickling the rest for next winter.”

He has proposed marriage and an elopement. What should she do?

Nicholas asks her if Kate knows about this, and then gives her a strong speech about respecting his father’s memory. He says he could easily put a stop to it, but:

“I should not interfere in a matter so ridiculous, and attach importance to it, until you have vindicated yourself … Absurd old idiot!”

Nicholas is confident that she can discourage him without his help, and they both retire for the night. The narrator tells us that Mrs Nickleby is too fond of her children to marry again:

“But, although there was no evil and little real selfishness in Mrs. Nickleby’s heart, she had a weak head and a vain one; and there was something so flattering in being sought (and vainly sought) in marriage”

She cannot see this her son’s way, as “preposterous, and doting, and ridiculous”. The man is to be pitied, because he does not know that it is a hopeless case. Looking in her mirror she thinks with satisfaction that she had been complimented on her youthful looks; such that when Nicholas reached 21 she would look more like his sister than his mother.

Mrs. Nickleby looks out the window and admits to herself that she is short-sighted, and yet:

“upon my word, I think there’s another large vegetable marrow sticking, at this moment, on the broken glass bottles at the top of the wall!”

And a little more …

There are quite a few details which might mystify in this long chapter, both about the party and in Mrs Nickleby’s chatter. I’ve put a couple in the summary and will explain a few here.

The office section:

Clocks - Tim has his own favourite clocks in London to set his clock by. At this time the most accurate local one was reputed to be the “Horse Guards Clock” at the War Office in Whitehall, which would be set by Greenwich Mean time (located in South London, the meridian line in Greenwich represents the Prime Meridian of the world). But Tim, the East-ender, thinks this is “a pleasant fiction, invented by jealous West-enders”.

**

Stationary items - Tim’s little enclosed glass partition has “the choicest curiosities. Paper, pens, ink, ruler, sealing-wax, wafers, pounce-box, string-box, fire-box, Tim’s hat …”

Wafers - small gummed discs used to seal the flaps of a folded letter before the invention of envelopes

Pounce-box - a box with a perforated lid from which one could shake “pounce” - a cuttle-bone compound that helped to blot ink on parchment

Fire-box - contained flint and tinder for melting sealing-wax

**

The party section:

Bowl of bishop - not "stinking bishop" as I first wondered, which is a sort of English cheese (and definitely not as some notes inaccurately and hilariously paraphrase - making me laugh all over again - "a bishop came to call"! 😆🤣) .... "bishop" here is a sweet drink made of wine, citrus juice, sugar and spices.

The boy who was sent 5 yards to collect the cap “had taken the air, in the first instance, behind a hackney coach that went to Camberwell, and had followed two Punches afterwards and had seen the Stilts home to their own door.”

So he had (illicitly) hopped onto the back of a cab, and then got involved with street entertainers on his way back.

“Punch and Judy” is a puppet show. They are glove puppets whose show is performed in a portable booth. Punch is a wife-beater … there’s also a policeman and a crocodile. We still have them at the seaside.

“Stilts” are the long wooden poles attached to a performer’s legs. Wearing these they would juggle, dance and perform acrobatic feats. Now they would usually be seen in a circus.

(Henry Mayhew chronicled a lot of types of open air entertainment, and our modern side read of The Victorian City: Everyday Life in Dickens' London by Judith Flanders includes a section on it.)

**
Mrs Nickleby’s revelatory section:

blue-coat boy - Blue-coat boys were charity school pupils (we talked of these in our read of Dombey and Son) whose uniform was a blue coat and a blue cap. The most famous one was Christ’s Hospital, founded in 1553 and known as the “Blue Coat School”.

Daniel Lambert (1770 - 1809) was famous for his obesity, and exhibited himself as a curiosity all round the country. At his death he weighed 52 stone 11 pounds (or 739 pounds)

Miss Biffin - Sarah Biffin or Beffin (1784 - 1850) was born limbless and grew to only 37" tall. (She had the medical condition phocomelia.) She earned a living by painting miniatures by holding a brush in her mouth - and by exhibiting herself as a freak. (Oh those Victorians! 😡) More on this artist here https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sarah_B...

Musical glass - technically this is called an armonica. It was a musical instrument consisting of assorted glass jars filled differing amounts of water. The level of water and size of glass determined the note produced.

If there are others, please ask (and I’ll do my best!)

Thoughts on …

Mrs Nickleby’s “Ramblings”?

It’s perhaps a moot point whether Mrs Nickleby is actually rambling because she’s silly. I’ve mentioned her “inner monologue” quite a lot, and don’t personally think she is senile or confabulating. Many critics just metaphorically shrug their shoulders and don’t look any further than her silliness - put in merely as a comic figure - particularly since she is based on Elizabeth Dickens.

But in this chapter she is essentially clear-headed. Yes, she goes off at a tangent sometimes, but this can happen to people who are naturally gregarious, but then denied of much company and spend their days alone. If she has few inner resources and ways to spend her time, it could just be her natural chattiness, feeling deprived of the social life she needs. If we ignore her chattiness, we can see how many of these “inner thoughts” are of the real world outside her mind.

She knows exactly what her amorous neighbour wants, with his phallic-shaped vegetable missiles. (I have to confess that I laughed until I cried when I first read this episode, and I was outside in the garden too, so goodness knows what people thought! And every time since, it still seems the funniest thing I have ever read, for some reason.)

Nicholas is keen to pass off anyone noticing his mother in this way with ridicule. First he says how unlikely it is that anyone would want to court her. Well we all know that youngsters cannot imagine their parents ever being sexual beings; it either disgusts or amuses them. But we can work out that Mrs Nickleby, although called “old” by those comparing her with 17 year-old Kate, is probably only in her forties, or even a little younger, as Nicholas is either 19 or 20 by now. Assessing herself favourably in the looking glass is not mere wishful thinking. She knows that she is still desirable.

The second reaction Nicholas has is to scoff: “there is no language of vegetables”. But Mrs Nickleby goes through her neighbour’s attempts at courting, how it increases step by step, and giving clear instances. She does not want to tell Kate - her young, innocent daughter. But she must be wondering if ignoring a possible suitor is wise. Granted he must be eccentric, but he apparently owns or rents a cottage in Bow, and does not work, so must have financial means. This security would be very important to a female of her age and class, and with no independent resources.

The narrator tells us that Mrs Nickleby still feels for her husband, but is flattered. We also know she feels sorry for her neighbour. She is not sure what to do, and probably wants Nicholas to confirm that she is doing the right thing in not encouraging him. She has approached the head of the Victorian family, genuinely asking for advice - and I’m not sure she gets it! 🤔

Robert L. Caserio (in Harold Bloom’s modern critical views on Charles Dickens) pinpoints this chapter as the point of peripety for Mrs Nickleby, viz. “the moral habit or venture where a character challenges prevailing convention, and enacts a significant reversal in [her] own life”.

She has another chance of marriage in this chapter, and how she acts will shape her for better or worse (pardon the pun!) It is an example of how she chooses not just to think, but what to do will damn her or save her.

Unlike Kate, Mrs Nickleby will not shrink from embarrassment when confronted by her suitor’s erotic aggression, and she refuses to believe that he is mad. This can be interpreted as her vanity - but there is another way of looking at it.

Charles Dickens wants as always, to both amuse and instruct. He wants us to consider, along with Mrs Nickleby, that the gentleman is not mad - or at least not merely because he is aggressively and directly erotic. Robert L. Caserio says:

“The good marriage has to include some of that direct force. Without it marriage might be the kind of beneficent yet rather impersonally sterile and sad alliance it is in that oddly married couple, the Cheeryble brothers”

I think every other marriage we have seen so far has not been companionable, or loving, but merely a “system of annoyance”, as mentioned before, except perhaps for the Crummles’s. (And we hope of course that both Nicholas and Kate will make good marriages, in every sense.)

Robert L. Caserio believes Mrs Nickleby to be one of the few genuinely wise people in the book, holding her own counsel, standing outside the narrative, and unaffected by others:

“she is considerably less silly than she has seemed to be up to the point of reversal … had she been thoroughly silly or mad she would have married him … this is the first time she has stopped daydreaming; she does not give way to wish fulfillment”.

It’s an attractive theory, although remembering what Charles Dickens (as the narrator) tells us:

“But, although there was no evil and little real selfishness in Mrs. Nickleby’s heart, she had a weak head and a vain one; and there was something so flattering in being sought (and vainly sought) in marriage”

I’m not sure it’s that simple. We’ll have to see what happens next in Mrs Nickleby’s story arc. And until then, I’m just going to enjoy the ludicrous humour! Since her actions so far have been inconsequential to the plot, her true value here is as a comedy character.

This is another (long - phew! 😌) chapter of two parts, and one of my favourite details in the first section is about Tim Linkinwater’s blackbird.

Birds in cages were to become one of Charles Dickens’s favourite motifs, and indeed birds proliferate in Victorian fiction and poetry. So often a bird in a cage is a symbol of being trapped, either by circumstances or life in general. Here though we may be surprised, as Tim Linkinwater’s blackbird is happy in his cage, after being rescued from his wretched life of suffering and starvation. For me this reflects Tim himself who has chosen to live in his glass partitioned “cage”, within the counting house. It is his whole life, and when he thinks he is going to be superannuated, he defends it vigorously.

So my favourite quotation today is from that section:

“Tim would utter a melodious chirrup, and cry ‘Dick;’ … come to the side of the cage in three small jumps, and, thrusting his bill between the bars, turn his sightless head towards his old master—and at that moment it would be very difficult to determine which of the two was the happier, the bird or Tim Linkinwater.”

Who could not smile at this - or the absurdity of the romantic vegetables.

Your thoughts on this uplifting chapter?

Thank you so much,Jean, for this abundance of interesting details.

I noticed the caged and ageless blackbird (there are a few of them in Dickens novels (Dombey and Son indeed), and the clock and the stationary articles.

It was quite a feat to sum up Mrs Nickleby's galimatias - just as it was quite a feat to invent such a character! There are of course a few underlying truths beneath her "ramblings" and Nicholas seems to have found a way of dealing with her without offending her.

I just adored this chapter. Once I was invited into the Cheeryble brothers counting house, I wanted to work there too. Oh, to have bosses like Charles and Ned! My favorite quote has to be the way they split up the saying of grace. I'm completely charmed by these two.

I do think Nicholas gave his mother a bit too much credit, when he advises her to do what her good sense tells her, despite Caserio's very interesting theory! But I'm open to change my mind.

I LOVE the stationery definitions, Jean. Thank you so much--I am a bit of a stationery nut, particularly loving older items, but knew nothing of things like this!

Bionic Jean wrote: " Well we all know that youngsters cannot imagine their parents ever being sexual beings; it either disgusts or amuses them."

That's very true, and I suspect it accounts for Nicholas' reaction. Of course, I don't know how (or whether) Dickens will pursue this development. But unlike Nicholas, I have to say I don't find it ridiculous as such. From what I know of customs in the 19th century (and before), with many people dying at relatively young ages, the early death of a spouse was common; and it was taken for granted that the surviving spouse would remarry. (And as Jean noted, Mrs. Nickleby at about 40 isn't a withered ancient!)

However, IMO, hasty marriages based on a couple's inadequate knowledge of each other weren't any better an idea in the 19th century than they are today; and we have to guess that this guy's interest in Mrs. Nickleby is based primarily on her looks, since he's never carried on a conversation with her. (If he did, he might want to run as fast and far in another direction as possible....)

My advice to the would-be suitor (since couples in that day didn't "date") would have been to ask Nicholas for permission to sometimes call on her socially for a while, of an evening, and get to know each other, with other family present --not to toss vegetables over the wall and suggest an elopement! But since he already opted for the latter strategy, he may have killed any chance of getting Nicholas to take such a request seriously, let alone favorably.

I loved all of the passages you quoted, Jean, and had underlined them myself, especially:

“Good Lord!’ thought Nicholas, ‘and there are scores of people of their own station, knowing all this, and twenty thousand times more, who wouldn’t ask these men to dinner because they eat with their knives and never went to school!", and

“’it’s a very delightful and consoling thing to have a grown-up son that one can put confidence in, and advise with; indeed I don’t know any use there would be in having sons at all, unless people could put confidence in them. I just felt this showed Mrs. Nickleby's total self absorption - that the sole purpose of her son's life should be to take care of her.

I also loved this one: "Mrs. Nickleby had entertained Smike with a genealogical account of her family..., and Smike had sat wondering what it was all about, and whether it was learnt from a book, or said out of Mrs. Nickleby's own head; so that they got on together very pleasantly. Again, this passage just reminded me of how good to the core Smike is!

Regarding the cucumber episode, Jean, you made me laugh! I did not even associate it with a sexual connotation, but it does make perfect sense. However, the landing of "another large vegetable-marrow sticking at the moment on the broken glass bottles at the top of the wall! is a rather ominous foreboding for the development of that relationship. LOL

"Robert L. Caserio believes Mrs Nickleby to be one of the few genuinely wise people in the book.". This stretches my imagination right now.

"He has proposed marriage and an elopement. What should she do?" Can we be sure that the libidonous neighbor has really proposed to Mrs. Nickleby? She's always correcting herself when telling stories so I have my doubts she got this right, too.

And lastly, I love these illustrations: The color one by Copping, and the one by Reinhart who is rapidly becoming a favorite illustrator for me.

With a flick of his quill Dickens opens this chapter with grace, sensitivity, and gentleness. To me, the first three three paragraphs of this chapter are Dickens’s best writing in the novel so far. We know by the end of chapter 37 that we have arrived in a better place with better people.

There is a subtle nature in manner in which comparisons are presented to us. The Cheeryble brothers contrast with Ralph Nickleby, the faithful employee Timothy Linkinwater contrasts with the disgruntled Newman Noggs, the contented but handicapped blackbird in his cage is parallel to Smike. Both the blackbird and Smike have been taken in by kindly people and are now safe. The honourable Cheeryble brothers create an economic ecosystem that is not found in the businesses or personalities of the Mantalini’s, Ralph Nickleby, the Wititterly’s, Squeers, or, to an extent the fullness of the Crummles circus.

We briefly touched on the nature and the value of finding a home in recent chapters. Here, in chapter 37 both a home for a family and a home environment to work has been found. The gentleness and humour of the vegetable garden courtship of Mrs Nickleby and her sighting of the vegetable-marrow sticking on the broken glass bottles at the top of the wall (read Freud into that?) is gentle when compared to the Verisopht/Hawk pursuit of Kate.

I confess to finding Mrs Nickleby tiresome, but in this chapter she did wait up for her son to come home. Even if her motives were humorous in motivation and intent, that act, with her daughter safe sound asleep, and her patiently waiting for her son to come home must be seen as an image of love.

Peter, I love your thoughts on this chapter, especially about Mrs Nickleby. As she began speaking, I began setting myself up to feel irritated but by the end of that section, I realized that she’d actually had a conversation with Nicholas. And while it was centered on her in one way, it also had to do with this neighbor/stranger and ultimately the family. There was a two way give and take going on, at least much more than we’ve seen previously in the novel.

Thank you, Jean, for the fantastic information from Robert L. Caserio. That gives me a lot to think about. My take while reading the scene between Mrs Nickleby and Nicholas was much like Sue just said. Yes, it revealed yet again her silliness, her vanity, and her babbling, but when she took pity on the neighbor near the end of the chapter, I was impressed by her attitude. I suppose this duality is shown the in quote Shirley mentioned: "It’s a very delightful and consoling thing to have a grown-up son that one can put confidence in, and advise with; indeed I don’t know any use there would be in having sons at all, unless people could put confidence in them." When I read that first part of that statement, I thought of my own sons on the cusp of manhood, agreed, and thought 'how sweet'. Then the second part of the statement deflated me!

Oh, the vegetables! I laughed out loud as well. And the repetition of it all. I underlined 4 instances of the word 'vegetables' and 'cucumbers'; it kept getting funnier and funnier!

Peter, those comparisons are brilliant!

I agree Kelly - I particularly enjoyed the comparison of the blackbird with Smike Peter.

So many great points made by everyone, and the quotations selected made me smile all over again. 😆

22 friends have found this thread now, so I hope for more comments, and that the pace is still OK. We now have another long chapter ... and oh my goodness, take a deep breath ready, as we have lots of action and drama today!

Chapter 38: Comprises certain Particulars arising out of a Visit of Condolence, which may prove important hereafter. Smike unexpectedly encounters a very old Friend, who invites him to his House, and will take no Denial

Kate is enjoying the tranquility of her new life, particularly after her recent trials and suffering. Her happy personality of old is restored, and she looks even more beautiful.

Miss La Creevy has been working to put the house to rights with her hammers and nails and so on. However, she has noticed that Smike is more troubled. He is such a “worn and feeble creature”, and not exactly ill, but she believes that now he realises how deficient he is mentally, and:

“sits brooding by himself, with such a look of pain as I could scarcely bear to see, and then get up and leave the room: so sorrowfully, and in such dejection, that I cannot tell you how it has hurt me.”

He is nowhere near as happy and light-hearted as he used to be, though he is still devoted to them. Miss La Creevy decides to ask Smike to escort her back to the Strand to her home, and if she talks all the way, she thinks he is bound to laugh at something.

So she and Smike get on the the omnibus, after a great ceremony of saying goodbyes, and we turn our attention to other characters in the narrative.

Sir Mulberry Hawk, meanwhile:

“With a shattered limb, a body severely bruised, a face disfigured by half-healed scars, and pallid from the exhaustion of recent pain and fever,”

is recuperating on a couch, from the injuries he received. It will take several weeks, and Lord Verisopht:

“the young lord—the only member of the party who was not thoroughly irredeemable, and who really had a kind heart”

faithfully attends to him. He reads items of interest out of the newspaper, and willingly plays gambling games, which Sir Mulberry Hawk wins with triumph, time after time. Mr. Pyke and Mr. Pluck are in the next room. They annoy him by laughing and drinking heavily, but when he complains, they are not sympathetic, and carry on drinking and wink at each other.



"Hawk, Verisopht, Pyke, and Pluck" - Sol Eytinge, Jr. - 1867 (characters, not illustration)

Ralph Nickleby visits, and Sir Mulberry Hawk’s manservant tries to turn him away as instructed, but Ralph Nickleby is insistent, and bribes the servant to persuade Sir Mulberry Hawk to see him. Sir Mulberry Hawk is violently angry at first, but when he considers that it might be a matter of business, he allows his man to admit him.

Ralph Nickleby expresses his concern for Sir Mulberry Hawk. His:

“manner was one of profound humility and respect; and the low tone of voice was that, which the gentlest consideration for a sick man would have taught a visitor to assume. But the expression of his face … was in extraordinary contrast; and … all that part of his features which was not cast into shadow by his protruding and contracted brows, bore the impress of a sarcastic smile.”

Ralph says that there are some bills of Lord Frederick Verisophts to renew, but that he is there about something else. He is grieved that his nephew inflicted such a heavy punishment on him, and is:

“anxious to tell you that I disown this vagabond—that I acknowledge him as no kin of mine—and that I leave him to take his deserts from you, and every man besides. You may wring his neck if you please. I shall not interfere.”

Sir Mulberry Hawk baulks at the word “punishment” but it is not noticed. As for the gossip, Ralph then goes on to tell Mulberry that everyone has heard about this incident. There has even been a song composed about it:

“‘It’s a lie!’ said Sir Mulberry; ‘I tell you it’s all a lie. The mare took fright.’”

Ralph’s expression is as hard as iron, as Sir Mulberry Hawk raves about the revenge he will take. He will maim Nicholas for life, and:

“’I’ll do more than that; I’ll drag that pattern of chastity, that pink of prudery, the delicate sister, through—’

It might have been that even Ralph’s cold blood tingled in his cheeks at that moment …”

or it might have been that Sir Mulberry Hawk remembered who he was talking to, and that when they were children, the Nickleby brothers - her father and Ralph the knave and usurer, must have felt some affection for each other. Whichever it was:

“He stopped, and menacing with his hand, confirmed the unuttered threat with a tremendous oath.”

Ralph comments that Nicholas is a mere boy, and looking thoughtful, casually mentions that he believes Sir Mulberry Hawk used to box. He goes on to say that Nicholas is there in London, seeking him out even now.

Lord Verisopht reenters, and asks what the riot is all about. Ralph begins to tells him why Sir Mulberry is so angry, but he interrupts with “threats and oaths against Nicholas, almost as ferocious[..] as before…

[but] the manner of Lord Frederick Verisopht, who at the commencement had been twirling his whiskers with a most dandified and listless air, underwent a complete alteration.”

Lord Frederick Verisopht refuses to listen and tells Sir Mulberry Hawk that he will not be a party to a cowardly attack on Nicholas. He tells Hawk that he should have given his name and address, to ensure the proprieties were observed. He blames himself as much as Sir Mulberry Hawk for not taking a stand before, which had resulted in Hawk’s injuries.



“If you had told him who you were; if you had given him your card … ” - Fred Barnard - 1875

Besides, his conduct toward Miss Nickleby was wrong, and he had brought this upon himself. Lord Verisopht believes that Kate is a virtuous girl, and any brother would have defended her the way Nicholas did:

“And I only wish, with all my heart and soul, that any one of us came out of this matter half as well as he does.”

Sir Frederick Verisoft leaves the two men astonished, and agreeing between themselves how green he is.

Meanwhile, we go back to find Miss La Creevy and Smike, who have arrived at her home. She encourages him to stay and have a little food and drink, and it is after dusk when he starts back to Bow. It is a longish walk, but a straight one, and he knows the way. He peeps into the shop windows as he passes by, slowing down a little:

“when the clocks struck three-quarters past eight; roused by the sound, he hurried on at a very quick pace, and was crossing the corner of a by-street when he felt himself violently brought to, with a jerk so sudden that he was obliged to cling to a lamp-post to save himself from falling.”



“A Sudden Recognition, Unexpected on Both Sides” - Hablot K. Browne (Phiz) - February 1839

Smike is in despair. He recognises the voice and knows that Wackford Squeers, Jr. has him caught by the legs while Mr. Squeers has hooked his coat collar with the handle of his umbrella.

“One glance showed him this; and in that one glance the terrified creature became utterly powerless and unable to utter a sound.”

Mr. Squeers reels him in, and triumphantly throws him into a coach:

“Oh, what a delicious go is this here, good Lord!”

He beats Smike savagely within the coach:

“‘I never threshed a boy in a hackney coach before,’ said Mr. Squeers, when he stopped to rest. ‘There’s inconveniency in it, but the novelty gives it a sort of relish, too!’”

Smike listens to Squeers as he tells him that not only did he run away but had stolen the clothes he had been wearing (including one wellington boot and one shoe). Smike is stunned and stupified, now having no friends.

The journey seems endless, and they stop at Mr. Snawley’s home, where the Squeers have been staying, because:

“the Saracen, having experience of Master Wackford’s appetite, had declined to receive him on any other terms than as a full-grown customer.”

Mr. Squeers tells the Snawleys that he had raised Smike like his own son, and Smike showed his gratitude by running away.

Mr Snawley agrees, and asks where Smike has been living all this time. Mr Squeers demands to know if he has been with Nicholas, but no amount of threats and cuffs will induce Smike to answer. Nicholas has been his one true friend and he will not involve him. He even thinks that Nicholas might get into trouble if he does.

“Such were the thoughts—if to visions so imperfect and undefined as those which wandered through his enfeebled brain, the term can be applied—which were present to the mind of Smike, and rendered him deaf alike to intimidation and persuasion.”

Mr. Squeers takes away Smike’s shoes and outer clothes, and locks him in a tiny upstairs room, where Smike dwells on unhappy thoughts and vague bad memories:

“He crept to bed the same listless, hopeless, blighted creature, that Nicholas had first found him at the Yorkshire school.”

And a little more ...

What makes a Victorian gentleman?

This needs some explanation, because as modern readers we may be inclined to interpret behaviour according to what we think is fair. Instead we need to don our “Victorian lenses”.

Traditionally a gentleman was from the upper class of Victorian society. They would be landowners with inherited wealth, who did not work. Certain professions were accepted: army officers, church ministers, lawyers and doctors could all be counted as gentlemen (although not surgeons, who had no medical training at this time. Ironically this is why even now in England, a surgeon is called “Mr Brown” rather than “Dr. Brown”. It is assumed now to be a mark of respect, but had its origins in their lack of medical qualifications).

Increasingly with the industrial revolution, other professions started to be acceptable, and the term began to trickle down. Bankers and those who rose to be wealthy industrialists were rewarded with honorary titles (e.g. Sir) by Queen Victoria. We know that since she has been on the throne for just 2 years at the time of Nicholas Nickleby, society is on the cusp of change.

Centuries earlier, William Horman coined what has become a proverb: “Manners maketh man”. Translated simply, the proverb states that politeness, good manners and civility are essential to humanity. Certainly for Victorians, “Manners maketh the gentleman” - and this is true even today.

Sir Mulberry Hawk is a gentleman by birth, but decidedly not by his behaviour and manners. He should have a "gentleman's gentleman" to attend to him, taking care of his daily needs as to his appointments, his food, and his dress. Good examples in 20th century popular fiction of these servants who themselves behave as as gentlemen, are Bunter, in Dorothy L. Sayers's stories about Lord Peter Wimsey, and Jeeves, in P.G. Wodehouse's stories about Bertie Wooster. But the uncouth Sir Mulberry Hawk has a servant to match his own manners, who is referred to as a "man" - a simple manservant rather than a gentleman - and who we see can easily be bribed.

Ralph Nickleby can choose to adopt gentlemanly manners when he chooses, and both he and Nicholas’s father were born to a gentleman, so had that opportunity to remain gentlemen. Now though, Ralph’s money dealings are so suspect - he is a usurer, plus he lives in a very dubious area - that his clients all look down on him.

Several characters have commented on Nicholas’s gentlemanly manners. One of Mrs Kenwigs’s friends (or was it perhaps one of the theatre troupe) joked earlier about gentleman gambling and drinking all night, riding to hounds and being generally dissolute, and her friends said that that was an aristocrat, not a gentleman. It was a joke, of course, but pointed up the truth that at this time, a title no longer indicated that someone was truly a gentleman in every sense.

Gentlemanly behaviour for Victorians was more or less adopted from the rules of chivalry; it was a religious moral and social code. In Victorian society this required being Christian (Jews were not yet considered to be gentlemen, and were relegated to being money-lenders like Ralph, or even a fence, according to records from the time 😟). Gentlemen were expected to be very polite, and to exemplify honest and kind behaviour, especially towards women. Words such as noble, honourable and courteous are also key.

We see this from Nicholas, and also from Newman Noggs, who is a gentleman who has fallen on hard times (and has been disgraced by his drinking habit). Nobody else so far really counts as a gentleman. Sadly even the Cheeryble brothers are not exactly gentlemen 😟, as Nicholas rather priggishly observes at their party, although he recognises their essential goodness and kind deeds. However they dress like farmers, and their social etiquette is not up to standard, despite their extreme generosity. Here are Nicholas’s thoughts on their non-gentlemanly status, from ch 37:

“‘Good Lord!’ thought Nicholas, ‘and there are scores of people of their own station, knowing all this, and twenty thousand times more, who wouldn’t ask these men to dinner because they eat with their knives and never went to school!’”

Over the next few years I suspect those like Cheeryble brothers’ status in society would change.

It is confusing for us to enter into the Victorian idea of a gentleman, perhaps because we still have the concept today, but it is watered down to an attitude or courtesy, plus a residual attention to dress, (although a superbly dressed lout could still never count as a gentleman today). I’ll give you two personal examples (under a spoiler as our modern ideas are really off-topic).

(view spoiler)[1. One chap I worked with, jokily referred to himself as a “young fogey” (i.e. a pun on an old fogey). He was quite old-fashioned; always opened doors for women, carried any heavy luggage, and gave up his seat in the bus or train etc. These are accepted signs of being a gentleman now. Whenever we walked anywhere together, such as to the tube station, he always walked on one particular side of me, deliberately walking around me to enable this, if it was the “wrong side”. I found it slightly off-putting, as we were invariably in the middle of a conversation!

For a long time I assumed this was to put himself on the side of the road, i.e. between me and the traffic. Then I realised it wasn’t consistent, so asked him (we know each other very well!) He instantly replied “to leave my sword-arm free”! It was said with a smile but semi-seriously.

Now oddly enough, we don’t carry swords in London nowadays, (the carrying of any offensive weapon is actually illegal in Great Britain) but this is what he had been brought up to do, as part of the chivalric courtesy of protecting females. I always find it quite funny, but it is kindly meant.

2. Another time was working in a team of three, where I was the only female. Our rooms were in a corner, with large open areas between ours and another set of three. One evening I had to interview a rather dodgy, muscle-bound thug (perhaps a descendant of Bill Sikes …) about his naughty son. It was OK … I think I got through to him a bit, and kept my desk between us. But at the end when he had left, I let out a frustrated sort of release of tension - and instantly my team-mates (2 different chaps) were there jammed in the doorway, presumably having just dropped their own interviewees! They were relieved to see I was perfectly alright, and I apologised, saying that the worst moment was near the end, when he had offered to show me his tattoos *shudder*. (hide spoiler)]

So you see the idea of a “gentleman” is still alive and well in England today, although nowadays it just seems like kind and caring behaviour.

Note - For more on Victorian gentlemen, see The Idea of the Gentleman in the Victorian Novel by Robin Gilmour (1981)

And about ...

Victorian rules of etiquette

This follows on from the idea of being a gentleman. Lord Frederick Verisopht has remembered that as well as an aristocrat, he is at heart a gentleman (and YAY for him!) despite his dissolute and coarse aristocratic friend Sir Mulberry Hawk dragging him down. (Mr Pyke and Mr Pluck wouldn’t really count; they are not gentlemen in any sense of the word.) The part that follows is Lord Frederick Verisopht giving us a clear indication of what is acceptable behaviour in a conflict between two gentlemen:

“If you had told him who you were; if you had given him your card, and found out, afterwards, that his station or character prevented your fighting him, it would have been bad enough then; upon my soul it would have been bad enough then. As it is, you did wrong.”

Once they had exchanged cards, then in Victorian society a formal fight would be arranged, with agreed weapons such as pistols or rapiers, or none, such as boxing rather than the bare-knuckle fighting of the lower classes. In 1839, the time of this installment, boxing would be conducted under the “London Prize Ring Rules”, which you might have heard of later as called the Marquess of Queensberry rules https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marques...
(Quoting “the Marquess of Queensberry rules” has made its way into idiomatic English English, as a colloquial expression for anything that is decent and fair.)

This whole system of exchanging cards was to ensure good sportsmanship and fair play between well-bred gentlemen. This is what Nicholas was trying to establish with Sir Mulberry Hawk - the detailed arrangements of time, place and weapons to be agreed later - and which Lord Frederick Verisopht is shocked and mortified at his friend’s uncouth and ungentlemanly refusal to engage in.

Only a gentleman would challenge another gentleman in this way. Therefore for the part I highlighted in bold, Lord Verisopht is saying that if Nicholas had been in a different class, for instance a labourer (which he clearly is not) then there would have been an excuse for Sir Mulberry Hawk not to demean himself by fighting him formally. He would not have been a worthy opponent. But Lord Verisopht says that he is doubly in breach of gentlemanly etiquette, because he did not even give Nicholas his card.

Lord Frederick Verisopht is absolutely right according to the social etiquette of the time. He feels ashamed on his friend’s behalf, and knows that Nicholas was more gentlemanly in his behaviour, especially in protecting his virtuous sister, than any of the four of them had been.

The structure

1. Once again, we have a long double (or even triple) chapter, in terms of scenes. I was intrigued too by the literary device we do not often see now, of leaving the action to continue whilst looking at other characters. We have the omniscient narrator saying of the omnibus containing Miss La Creevy and Smike:

“Leaving it to pursue its journey at the pleasure of the conductor aforementioned … this narrative may embrace the opportunity of ascertaining the condition of Sir Mulberry Hawk”

2. Plus we have another tell-tale sign of an unplanned serial here. Charles Dickens did not expect his contemporary readers to be able to remember Mr Snawley - a minor character only mentioned in chapter 4. After all, that was back in June 1838 and it is now February 1839 - a whole 8 months later (it’s hard enough for us!) So again, as with the interrupted omnibus journey, we hear the author’s voice from outside the narrative:

“Mr Snawley may be remembered as the sleek and sanctified gentleman who confided two sons (in law) to the parental care of Mr. Squeers, as narrated in the fourth chapter of this history.”

It’s a dead giveaway really, and we would not see this in a modern novel.

3. Just a little one ... I think Charles Dickens has deliberately contrasted the attack on a privileged bully (Hawk), with a bully's attack on a poor defenceless boy (Smike).

My favourite quotation today, is about Lord Verisopht:

“the young lord—the only member of the party who was not thoroughly irredeemable, and who really had a kind heart”.

Lord Frederick Verisopht may be weedy, but in this episode he's my hero! 🥰 I thought he really showed his mettle in this chapter. He is young and impressionable, so it has taken a lot of courage to stand his ground among his older friends, and insist on what he thinks is right.

Sir Mulberry Hawk may be a “gentleman” by birth, but he is not gentlemanly in any other way. He is a despicable coarse oaf 😡

Oh that portentous clock! And poor Smike. Did this episode remind anyone of another, earlier novel (view spoiler)[ Oliver Twist (hide spoiler)] where (view spoiler)[ Oliver is recaptured for Fagin by Bill Sikes and Nancy (hide spoiler)]?

I really enjoyed the dark plate by Fred Barnard - and also the original one by Hablot Knight Browne. The details of the vibrant street life are so good in this one. It makes me wonder who teaches French at the ladies Seminary on the first floor, what is going on in the background with the coach, and the bricklayers chatting on the left, and the woman on the right smoking a pipe and selling her ... roasted chestnuts perhaps.

Over to you ... I'm excited to know what you say, and hope everyone's managing to keep up!

Poor Smike! He just froze up when he encountered Squeers. It's not surprising considering his slower reactions, and because Squeers had been beating him for years. Smike feels defenseless in Squeers' presence.

Squeers probably has several reasons to capture Smike. It's a way to get back at Nicholas who will come looking for Smike. Smike can also be a source of free labor around the school again. Squeers is such a sadistic man that he enjoys beating someone who can't fight back, and has no family to press charges.

I've been enjoying all the illustrations that you have been posting, Jean.

I hated Squeers and junior capturing poor Smike, but was happy to see that Lord Frederick acknowledged that he had not acted gentlemanly but rather cowardly, and that he does not want to support any attack on Nicholas. He is indeed "not thoroughly unredeemable".

Ralph's words were rather hateful.

Bionic Jean wrote: "The structure

1. Once again, we have a long double (or even triple) chapter, in terms of scenes. I was intrigued too by the literary device we do not often see now, of leaving the action to contin..."

Hi Jean

Yes, there does seem to be a layering of physical assaults going on in the novel. It seems each one has its own motivations or reasons (if a fight or assault is a reasoned exercise). Each separate physical scene seems to be building toward something even more shocking.

The delightful Browne illustration is a fine example of his work. In it we have multiple characters, each with a specific look on their face. How hard that is to accomplish given the relatively small size of the plate. I found the background detail of the illustration both suggestive and reflexive. In the background we see two horses galloping behind a coach. The coach driver’s hand is raised and holding a whip. I find this part of the illustration both looks forward and anticipates the mad dash that Squeers will take with the captive Smike and reflective of the earlier violent conflict between Nicholas and Hawk.

It is no coincidence that Squeers uses his umbrella to hook onto Smike. Squeers is standing in front of a fishing tackle store. The advertisement of the fish on a pole affixed over the store is placed by Browne directly over poor Smike who has been hooked by Squeers.

Your observation of how the seller of apples and the bricklayers compliment the aspect of the street scene is a perfect addition to the plate.

As you know I’m a huge fan of Hablot Browne.

Oh they're apples! 🤣 I thought they were a bit big for roast chestnuts, but thought I could see smoke coming off them. We still have roast chestnut sellers in London, but as you know the Victorian street food industry was huge, as not many people had the ability to do their own cooking. (Lots about this in Judith Flanders's The Victorian City: Everyday Life in Dickens' London)

I like all your thoughts about Hablot Knight Browne's coded messages, Peter 😊

What another unfortunate twist we have as we were not expecting Smike to get back into Squeers hands. Perhaps we should have worried since we knew that he was in London. It’s a big city, but…

Actually Lord Verisoft gave us another twist, or at least a twist on Ralph’s thinking. I almost liked him after he chided Hawk.

I appreciate all the additional information, Jean. I’m enjoying NN so much more than when I listened to the audio last summer. I needed all this extra info and explanations then.

Last year my granddaughter and I bought some of those roasted nuts from a vendor on the Westminster Bridge. We enjoyed them so much that the next night we went back for more.

Miss La Creevy continues to amaze with the level of her perception of those around her, especially those she cares about. It’s sad that her attempt to help Smike unwittingly led to his capture. I think this will be hard for her to handle.

I was struck by Lord Verisopht’s words to Hawk. He went into detail on why he was dismayed and certainly disagreed with any plan for retaliation. I wonder if this will interfere with any plans Ralph has for him?

Bionic Jean wrote: "Oh they're apples! 🤣 I thought they were a bit big for roast chestnuts, but thought I could see smoke coming off them. We still have roast chestnut sellers in London, but as you know the Victorian ..."

Hi Jean

You are so right about Judith Flanders’s book. I looked it up again on Goodreads and there was your excellent review of it. Connie G also has read and reviewed it as I have. It is a book that would fit nicely under a Christmas tree next month. 😊

Really, any/all of Flanders’ books on Victorian England are worth reading.

Great comments all, and I'm so pleased to see Connie and Kathleen (not C) returning - how lovely that you've had London roasted chestnuts Kathleen! I sometimes wonder if friends here think I live so much in the Victorian world in my mind that I am fantasising about such things 😂 So it's good to have corroborative evidence. I have to admit I had wondered when you stated your intention to read Nicholas Nickleby first, prior to our read, but know we all approach things differently. (Cozy-Pug used to like to do this too) so I'm pleased the in-depth read is working out well for you.

Yes, do read the book Peter, and perhaps take a peek at our side-read thread. I read it on kindle, and then bought the book for the diagrams and photos, but they are ridiculously tiny for the size of page, so I passed it on and just keep the text.

Chapter 39: In which another old Friend encounters Smike, very opportunely and to some Purpose

The next morning, a mail coach from the North of England clatters through Islington and south towards St Paul’s Cathedral. Who should be travelling on the outside but the newly married John Browdie. His wedding to Matilda Price had been postponed, because his father had died. Inside the coach are Tilda, and Fanny Squeers, her bridesmaid:

“a slumbering figure, so muffled in shawl and cloak, that it would have been matter of impossibility to guess at its sex but for a brown beaver bonnet and green veil which ornamented the head, and which, having been crushed and flattened, for two hundred and fifty miles”

Fanny snores on, while John and his new wife are admiring the vast size of St. Paul’s Cathedral and of the post office nearby. John wakes up Fanny, who is asleep in the carriage. John laughs, saying that they should charge for double letters, and wonders where the Lord Mayor of London lives. He wakes Fanny, but she is cross, accusing Tilda of kicking her all night:

“Don’t deny it, ‘Tilda… because you have, and it’s no use to go attempting to say you haven’t. You mightn’t have known it in your sleep, ‘Tilda, but I haven’t closed my eyes for a single wink, and so I think I am to be believed.”

John directs the coach driver to take them to the “Sarah’s Head” inn, and Fanny corrects him crossly, saying that it is the Saracen’s Head. The coach driver now knows where to go, and John is satisfied that they are going to the “Sarah’s Son’s Head”. He intends to enjoy himself in London, and begins by kissing his new wife - and Fanny too - although she protests with scratches and struggles.

They rest in their rooms at the Saracen’s Head, and meet up again at about noon. Miss Squeers has carefully dressed in white, and has bedecked herself in roses and coral jewellery. The waiter is touched by such a display, and looks very hard at her. Haughtily she asks if her father is there, but the waiter doesn’t know. As if he was just anybody! Miss Squeers is most indignant. John Browdie says he had better go and find out, and meanwhile mutters to himself about the small size of the portions.

The waiter returns to say that Miss Squeers’ father does not have lodgings at the inn, but he comes daily and should arrive presently. After a few minutes later, he shows Mr Squeers and young Wackford upstairs. Mr. Squeers is surprised to see them so John explains how they wanted to see London once they were married. Mr Squeers then lectures them about how they should save their money for educating their children rather than wasting it on a honeymoon—because children will come soon enough.

He goes on to tell his daughter that it is time for her to marry, but Fanny claims she can wait. Tilda remarks sarcastically that the men can evidently wait too, which:

“might have provoked a rather acrimonious retort from Miss Squeers, who [was] of a constitutionally vicious temper”

and memories of her own unsuccessful designs upon Mr Browdie. Mr. Squeers accidentally prevents a quarrel from starting up between the young women by informing them that he has captured Smike, and relates how he came across him. Fanny is delighted, and John Browdie gives him a few “congratulatory” thumps on the chest which make Mr Squeers stagger. He tells them he is keeping Smike at his lodgings and has booked places on a coach for the next day:

“So it’s very lucky you come today, or you’d have missed us; and as it is, unless you could come and tea with me tonight, we shan’t see anything more of you before we go away.”

To his great surprise, John Browide says they wouldn’t miss it for anything. The narrator says that Mr Squeers “would have considered twice before he gave it” if he had known.

Mr. Browdie is oddly excitable after Mr. Squeers’ visit, and Fanny is worried that he is going mad, but Tilda says that she has seen him like this before, and it was nothing serious, but he would be ill later. Sure enough, John Browdie becomes ill and dizzy at the Snawleys’ after tea, when it is getting dusk. His wife tells everyone that he merely needs to lie down. Somehow they get him upstairs, and later Tilda returns to the company to tell them all that he is asleep:

“Now, the fact was, that at that particular moment, John Browdie was sitting on the bed with the reddest face ever seen, cramming the corner of the pillow into his mouth, to prevent his roaring out loud with laughter.”



“John Browdie effects Smike’s escape through subterfuge” - Charles Stanley Reinhart - 1875

John creeps into the bedroom where Smike is being held captive and quickly puts his hand over Smike’s mouth, to prevent him from calling out.



“Darting in, covered Smike’s mouth with his huge hand before he could utter a sound” - Fred Barnard - 1875

He doesn’t know why Smike didn’t kick and squeal and call for the police - but stops himself from scolding him - and says he must not brag, because Smike is a broken down chap; a weak creature.

John Browdie tells Smike he will help him escape, and unscrews the lock on the door, to make it look as if Smike did it himself. Smike shows him where Squeers had put his clothes, and John fits them back on him, although not very well.

Smike is very scared, but John promises that even if Squeers does find out quite soon, he will put him on the wrong scent. He adds as an afterthought that Smike is to tell the “young master” (Nicholas) that he is now spliced (married) to Tilda Price, and he is not at all jealous. The memory of Nicholas tucking into the bread and butter nearly makes him give a loud guffaw, but he manages to contain it.

He gets Smike downstairs and urges him to run:

“Smike needed no second bidding. Opening the house-door gently, and casting a look of mingled gratitude and terror at his deliverer, he took the direction which had been indicated to him, and sped away like the wind.”

John Browdie watches and listens on the stairs for a full hour, and then creeps back to bad, smothering himself with the bedclothes and hardly able to stop his silent laughter.

This is the end of Installment 12. Installment 13 will begin on Wednesday

I absolutely loved this chapter, and hope you did too! I tried to include transliterations of Charles Dickens's oh so idiosyncratic "Yorkshire" accent where necessary ...

But I’ve written such long information posts on “Victorian Gentlemen” and “Victorian rules of etiquette” for the previous two days, and the "Victorian pregnancy" one just before (hope they are helpful) so will pass this over now for your thoughts, and look forward to seeing you on Wednesday 😊

Jean


Your richly detailed insights and commentaries are very valuable to us. Thank you. Take a deep breath and a shortish rest.

What a delightful chapter. John and Tilda are married and it sounds like Miss Squeers should prepare for a long wait for her Prince (or dare I suggest, a real frog) to come along.

Embedded in this chapter are some interesting plot and structure elements. We have a marriage between two good people who are aligned with The Nicholas Nickleby part of the contrasting camps of characters. We know that Browdie has helped Nicholas in the past, and Nicholas, a gentleman, promptly paid his debt to Browdie.

Through a clever bit of plotting by Dickens John and Tilda with Miss Squeers in tow come into contact with Mr Squeers and the captive Smike. This furthers the plot and allows John to free Smike from his incarceration, gives the readers a delightful chapter of upbeat humour, and shows us how the positive contacts and friends of Nicholas are able to overcome the negative forces in the novel headed by Ralph Nickleby.

Smike’s escape may well be a harbinger that the forces of good will defeat the forces of evil. How, of course, the reader must be patient.

For now, let’s all laugh along with John Browdie.

It is nice to see how Nicholas is making good, loyal friends. Wherever he goes, someone helps him and Smike. Ralph, on the other hand, has to manipulate people, relying on their personal feelings of greed, hatred or pride, to help him with his evil plans.

Jean, your "information posts on “Victorian Gentlemen” and “Victorian rules of etiquette” for the previous two days, and the "Victorian pregnancy" one just before" were VERY helpful. I enjoyed every word. Thank you so much for the continued information that is making my read of this book much richer than it would have been on my own. This group has been one of my best GR discoveries!

This chapter was so pleasing for me to read, not only because of the good deed we see John doing, Smike's escape, and the evidence that John and Tilda are truly happy, but also because of, like Peter says, the clever plotting. Seeing these "old" characters pop back in to the story worked well. We met back up with Squeers a few chapters prior, so the reemergence of his daughter makes sense. But along with her come the delightful John and his wife, Tilda, who never fails to make me smile when she gets under Fanny's skin! It would be John who would help Smike escape.

The idea of John giggling and guffawing into his pillowcase was just delightful. 😄

I loved the portrait we see of John Browdie, sitting on the bed, stuffing part of the pillow in his mouth to stifle his laughter. And then after he has assisted Smike out of the house, lying under the covers to again stifle any possible sound of laughter. What a good man he is.

And I agree, Nicholas has made friends of some sort wherever he has traveled during the span of this book—among good people. Those who have bad intentions towards him or others he seems to ignore or dismiss as potential enemies. Or actively dislike, such
as Hawk and, obviously, Squeers.

The first sentence of Chapter 39 really grabbed me:

The night fraught with so much bitterness…coach traversed with cheerful noise…

It was the contrast between the bold words. Plus, Dickens definitely has a penchant for long, complex sentences.

Kathleen wrote: "Plus, Dickens definitely has a penchant for long, complex sentences. "

Literary understatement, LOL!

This book is getting more exciting chapter by chapter! I'm sorry I am behind on the comments but I have been devoted in my reading.

I laughed when Kathleen wrote about Dickens's "long, complex sentences". He puts my BA in English literature to work, and keeps me busy diagramming sentences when absolutely necessary! (An wonderful example below).

Most people today are not sophisticated enough in their reading skills to take the time to immerse themselves in the eloquence of rhetoric!

From one of my favorite sections of Ch 37 in which we are given a description of The Square " . . . in which the counting-house of the brothers Cheeryble was situated . . . "

"It is a quiet, little-frequented, retired spot, favourable to melancholy and contemplation, and appointments of long-waiting; and up and down its every side the Appointed saunters idly by the hour together, wakening the echoes with the monotonous sound of his footsteps on the smooth worn stones, and counting first the windows and then the very bricks of the tall silent houses that hem him round about."

I'm so happy you have found this thread Lee, as we hadn't heard from you in a while ... I hope not too many people are finding these long chapters tricky to fit into their busy lives. It is so worth it!

Yes, complex sentences for sure. Because I read on kindle and need the font expanded, the first sentence of the most recent two chapters I have read each took 3 "pages" (screens) 😂But then I only profit from reading them over again a few times 😊

as I did from your quotation, thanks Lee. Plus it occurs to me that there is a specific reason why passers-by might stand and count the windows ...

A little more ...

Window Tax

In England from 1696 onwards a window tax was imposed. It was supposed to be "fair" in that houses with more than ten windows were liable for additional taxes, which increased in line with the number of windows. But in cities, many people would live in tenement buildings - as many of the characters in Nicholas Nickleby do - and they would be liable for heavy taxes, (added to the rent by landlords) despite being relatively poor.

Many houses ended up boarding up their windows, and when in 1766 the number of allowable windows was reduced to 7, nearly two thirds of the houses in England and Wales which formerly had 7 windows "magically" had fewer.

Poor people were not getting enough light and ventilation, and there were outbreaks of typhus, smallpox and cholera. Just 6 years after Nicholas Nickleby a report was published (in Sunderland, up north) that the Health Committee had:

"...witnessed the very evil effect and operation of the window tax; and they do not hesitate to declare that it is their unanimous opinion that the blocking up of the numerous windows caused by the anxiety of their owners to escape the payment of the tax, has, in very many instances, greatly aggravated, and has even...in some cases been the primary cause of much sickness and mortality."

A campaign to repeal this law gained momentum and it was eventually scrapped in 1851 (for context, just after David Copperfield and when Charles Dickens was beginning to write Bleak House).

More here https://www.parliament.uk/about/livin...

HURRAH for John Browdie!! The whole chapter was delightful and I was filled with such satisfaction that John assisted Smike to escape.

Thanks for the info on the window tax. It seems throughout Europe there were often (and still today) taxes on the outer appearance of buildings and homes in particular. When I lived in Italy in the 90's, it surprised me to see the drabness of the homes from the outside and then when I got inside it could be pretty amazing. Well, they were taxed on how nice it looked on the outside!

This has been quite an installment. I’m getting caught up and through the commentary now. So much fantastic information on gentlemen and etiquette so thank you, Jean, for all the extra work you provide for our benefit. It is truly amazing and makes these reads so much more worthwhile.

If Mrs. Nickleby were to remarry, would that mean she would be financially stable? Who is providing for her (and Kate) now? Is it Ralph? Or did her husband leave behind something for them to live off of?

Thank goodness for John Browdie. While I can’t say his dialogue was easy to read, it was fantastic to see him again. I was worried when Smike left Miss La Creevy’s to walk home after the clock was referred to in the chapter. It’s ok that this part was a little predictable- because it gave us the ending we all wanted for Smike! Hooray!

Kathleen wrote: "The night fraught with so much bitterness…coach traversed with cheerful noise…

It was the contrast between the bold words ..."

I always say one of the reasons I love Charles Dickens's writing so much is because he can make me cry one moment and then laugh the next. I have found that life is often absurd in that way. And here you have isolated a perfect instance Kathleen of how he can switch between opposites, and yet carry us along with perfect conviction 😊

Chris - That's interesting! I did not know that, but it makes sense of how shabby some buildings appear, as you say. I remember from our side read of Pictures from Italy how disappointed Charles Dickens was in Rome, and how he took against some of the uncared-for villages too.

The first time I read this Lori, like most modern readers, I suspect, I had no idea of where the installments ended. But how relieved I am that Charles Dickens did not leave poor Smike locked up in that room at the end of an installment, or his readers would have been biting their nails and on tenterhooks for a whole month!

Kelly and Lori - it's so good to hear my "and a little more"s are useful, thank you 😊

"If Mrs. Nickleby were to remarry, would that mean she would be financially stable?" Well we hope so, Lori but it would depend on her new husband, and the neighbour sounds a bit eccentric at the moment. Time will tell. She must wonder that herself!

"Who is providing for her (and Kate) now? Is it Ralph? Or did her husband leave behind something for them to live off of?"

Nicholas is the only one earning a wage, and the Cheerybles are also renting them the cottage for virtually nothing - what we call "a peppercorn rent". Remember when the brothers wanted it to be rent-free, but thought that would look too much like charity, so they gleefully plotted together as to how they could make sure the rent was paid back in kind, and started with the free furniture? 😊

Nicholas's father lost all his money in unwise financial speculation, and all the household items had to be sold. That's why Mrs Nickleby is always regretting the loss of her silver spoons and amethyst jewellery. So there's no money from that quarter!

And Ralph cast them off without a penny once Nicholas had returned to the family. His promise to look after his sister-in-law and niece only held for as long as Nicholas stayed away. Such a mean and despicable act 😡. That's why they were initially staying with Miss La Creevy after Nicholas left the theatre troupe, as they had nowhere else to go except the workhouse ... until Nicholas met his fairy godfathers 🥰

I have finally caught up again and will only say how frightening it was to have Smike back in Squeers hands and how delightful to have him freed by John Browdie (who has proved to be a solid fellow).

My only other comment will to be thank you so much, Jean, for the information on the Window Tax. What a strange tax to levy and what a terrible result from having the windows boarded. I never cease to be amazed and excited by how much I learn reading with this group!

I just finished Chapter 38 and even though I’m behind one day, my heart is so heavy with sadness for Smike that I just had to pop in here and commiserate with friends who might feel the same.

It’s all written so well, that I almost couldn’t finish reading it because I dreaded what would come next. Dickens is so good at pulling on my heart strings!

I'm so thankful that Dickens released Smike from the clutches of the Squeers so quickly! I was so afraid he would be hauled back to Yorkshire! And so much mirth in this chapter... the wily John Browdie adds to our cheerful cast of characters!

And I also want to thank you for the information on the Window Tax. How awful that such a measure was undertaken without thoughtful consideration of the consequences. Those poor tenement dwellers! I'm amazed it took so long to repeal the tax.

Thank you Jean for the excellent explanation regarding Mrs. Nickleby and how she is being taken care of. I thought it may be Nicholas’ and partly Kate’s (when she had a job) responsibility. All of the details about her husband all came back to me after your post. I appreciate the reminder very much.

Bridget - I hope by now you have had some relief by reading the next chapter! Yes, Smike hooked by Squeers and all that ensued was truly horrific, despite the comedy of Hablot Knight Browne’s illustration, and the enthusiastic glee Squeers brings to his acts of savagery. He really is a diabolical figure, isn’t he?

We picked up the portentous clock, but as Lori said since we were rooting for Smike, and desperate that she should be rescued it didn’t matter (and was so clever of Charles Dickens, as he didn’t let us down and give us more tragedy but actually enabled us to enter into and enjoy John Browdie’s rescue even more.)

Oh I know what you mean, Lori … this story moves so fast and things change so quickly for the characters that details can easily be forgotten - especially if they were only originally mentioned once, or as asides.

More on the history of Window Tax

It was because of Lee’s quotation that I even thought of mentioning about window tax. I’m so pleased it is illuminating, Sara, Shirley and Chris. Yes, it is a strange sort of quirk in English law ...

I first came across it in the mid-20th century as a child, visiting stately homes. Many still belonged to the aristocratic families, who opened them to the public for tours. But inheritance taxes meant that aristocrats were increasingly “impoverished” i.e. rich in land, property and investments but with little ready cash. Thus the buildings fell into disrepair.

It was over a hundred years since the tax had been repealed in 1851, and the windows had been boarded up for all that time, with no money to repair and replace them with glazed ones. I used to wonder why these huge posh country houses had boarded-up windows, as the only ones like that I saw in ordinary life were derelict properties, or where they were awaiting repair.

Because of the huge hike in death duties (inheritance tax) through the 50s and 60s, which peaked in 1969 with the highest marginal rate fixed at 85% of amounts in excess of £750,000, (worth about 1 and a quarter million pounds today) many owners of stately homes either donated their houses to the National Trust - with a lifetime guarantee to live in part of it - or expanded into other areas. This is how the English Safari Parks began … but that’s another story!

As the National Trust began to acquire more stately homes, they would repair and reglaze the boarded up windows, so they are not not as much in evidence now, although there still are some (and how much “restoration” should be done is another huge off-topic topic for English people. Repairing of stone work with different materials? Stripping of ivy? Painting in different colours etc.)

The original tax in 1696 was targeted at landowners with huge estates but it is easy to see how it was misapplied. And this is exactly the sort of objection Charles Dickens had to various actions by governmental bodies. He did not think that the Poor Law or its 1834 amendment was essentially evil. It was designed to help those in need. But the way it was applied - as we saw in detail during our group read of Oliver Twist - led to much suffering.