own respectability, and without overstepping that line of duties which he undertakes to perform, and which the designation of his office is usually understood to imply.’
Mr. Gregsbury looked fixedly at Nicholas for a short time, and then glancing warily round the room, said in a suppressed voice:
‘This is all very well, Mr—what is your name?’
‘Nickleby.’
‘This is all very well, Mr. Nickleby, and very proper, so far as it goes—so far as it goes, but it doesn’t go far enough. There are other duties, Mr Nickleby, which a secretary to a parliamentary gentleman must never lose sight of. I should require to be crammed, sir.’
‘I beg your pardon,’ interposed Nicholas, doubtful whether he had heard aright.
‘—To be crammed, sir,’ repeated Mr. Gregsbury.
‘May I beg your pardon again, if I inquire what you mean, sir?’ said Nicholas.
‘My meaning, sir, is perfectly plain,’ replied Mr. Gregsbury with a solemn aspect. ‘My secretary would have to make himself master of the foreign policy of the world, as it is mirrored in the newspapers; to run his eye over all accounts of public meetings, all leading articles, and accounts of the proceedings of public bodies; and to make notes of anything which it appeared to him might be made a point of, in any little speech upon the question of some petition lying on the table, or anything of that kind. Do you understand?’
‘I think I do, sir,’ replied Nicholas.
‘Then,’ said Mr. Gregsbury, ‘it would be necessary for him to make himself acquainted, from day to day, with newspaper paragraphs on passing events; such as “Mysterious disappearance, and supposed suicide of a potboy,” or anything of that sort, upon which I might found a question to the Secretary of State for the Home Department. Then, he would have to copy the question, and as much as I remembered of the answer (including a little compliment about independence and good sense); and to send the manuscript in a frank to the local paper, with perhaps half-a-dozen lines of leader, to the effect, that I was always to be found in my place in parliament, and never shrunk from the responsible and arduous duties, and so forth. You see?’
Nicholas bowed.
‘Besides which,’ continued Mr. Gregsbury, ‘I should expect him, now and then, to go through a few figures in the printed tables, and to pick out a few results, so that I might come out pretty well on timber duty questions, and finance questions, and so on; and I should like him to get up a few little arguments about the disastrous effects of a return to cash payments and a metallic currency, with a touch now and then about the exportation of bullion, and the Emperor of Russia, and bank notes, and all that kind of thing, which it’s only necessary to talk fluently about, because nobody understands it. Do you take me?’
‘I think I understand,’ said Nicholas.
‘With regard to such questions as are not political,’ continued Mr Gregsbury, warming; ‘and which one can’t be expected to care a curse about, beyond the natural care of not allowing inferior people to be as well off as ourselves—else where are our privileges?—I should wish my secretary to get together a few little flourishing speeches, of a patriotic cast. For instance, if any preposterous bill were brought forward, for giving poor grubbing devils of authors a right to their own property, I should like to say, that I for one would never consent to opposing an insurmountable bar to the diffusion of literature among the people,—you understand?—that the creations of the pocket, being man’s, might belong to one man, or one family; but that the creations of the brain, being God’s, ought as a matter of course to belong to the people at large—and if I was pleasantly disposed, I should like to make a joke about posterity, and say that those who wrote for posterity should be content to be rewarded by the approbation of posterity; it might take with the house, and could never do me any harm, because posterity can’t be expected to know anything about me or my jokes either—do you see?’
‘I see that, sir,’ replied Nicholas.
‘You must always bear in mind, in such cases as this, where our interests are not affected,’ said Mr. Gregsbury, ‘to put it very strong about the people, because it comes out very well at election-time; and you could be as funny as you liked about the authors; because I believe the greater part of them live in lodgings, and are not voters. This is a hasty outline of the chief things you’d have to do, except waiting in the lobby every night, in case I forgot anything, and should want fresh cramming; and, now and then, during great debates, sitting in the front row of the gallery, and saying to the people about—‘You see that gentleman, with his hand to his face, and his arm twisted round the pillar—that’s Mr Gregsbury—the celebrated Mr. Gregsbury,’—with any other little eulogium that might strike you at the moment. And for salary,’ said Mr Gregsbury, winding up with great rapidity; for he was out of breath—‘and for salary, I don’t mind saying at once in round numbers, to prevent any dissatisfaction—though it’s more than I’ve been accustomed to give—fifteen shillings a week, and find yourself. There!’
With this handsome offer, Mr. Gregsbury once more threw himself back in his chair, and looked like a man who had been most profligately liberal, but is determined not to repent of it notwithstanding.
‘Fifteen shillings a week is not much,’ said Nicholas, mildly.
‘Not much! Fifteen shillings a week not much, young man?’ cried Mr Gregsbury. ‘Fifteen shillings a—’
‘Pray do not suppose that I quarrel with the sum, sir,’ replied Nicholas; ‘for I am not ashamed to confess, that whatever it may be in itself, to me it is a great deal. But the duties and responsibilities make the recompense small, and they are so very heavy that I fear to undertake them.’
‘Do you decline to undertake them, sir?’ inquired Mr. Gregsbury, with his hand on the bell-rope.
‘I fear they are too great for my powers, however good my will may be, sir,’ replied Nicholas.
‘That is as much as to say that you had rather not accept the place, and that you consider fifteen shillings a week too little,’ said Mr. Gregsbury, ringing. ‘Do you decline it, sir?’
‘I have no alternative but to do so,’ replied Nicholas.
‘Door, Matthews!’ said Mr. Gregsbury, as the boy appeared.
‘I am sorry I have troubled you unnecessarily, sir,’ said Nicholas.
‘I am sorry you have,’ rejoined Mr. Gregsbury, turning his back upon him. ‘Door, Matthews!’
‘Good-morning, sir,’ said Nicholas.
‘Door, Matthews!’ cried Mr. Gregsbury.
The boy beckoned Nicholas, and tumbling lazily downstairs before him, opened the door, and ushered him into the street. With a sad and pensive air, he retraced his steps homewards.
Smike had scraped a meal together from the remnant of last night’s supper, and was anxiously awaiting his return. The occurrences of the morning had not improved Nicholas’s appetite, and, by him, the dinner remained untasted. He was sitting in a thoughtful attitude, with the plate which the poor fellow had assiduously filled with the choicest morsels, untouched, by his side, when Newman Noggs looked into the room.
‘Come back?’ asked Newman.
‘Yes,’ replied Nicholas, ‘tired to death: and, what is worse, might have remained at home for all the good I have done.’
‘Couldn’t expect to do much in one morning,’ said Newman.
‘Maybe so, but I am sanguine, and did expect,’ said Nicholas, ‘and am proportionately disappointed.’ Saying which, he gave Newman an account of his proceedings.
‘If I could do anything,’ said Nicholas, ‘anything, however slight, until Ralph Nickleby returns, and I have eased my mind by confronting him, I should feel happier. I should think it no disgrace to work, Heaven knows. Lying indolently here, like a half-tamed sullen beast, distracts