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Updated: June 7, 2025
'Don't you, man? 'I apprehend you never supposed my worldly circumstances to be very good, replied the assistant. 'You know what my position is, and always has been, here. 'I apprehend, if you come to that, said Mr. Creakle, with his veins swelling again bigger than ever, 'that you've been in a wrong position altogether, and mistook this for a charity school. Mr.
What Arnold lamented was that England has too often been represented in Ireland, and here also when Irish questions were discussed, by "the genuine, unmitigated Murdstone the common middle-class Englishman, who has come forth from Salem House and Mr. Creakle. He is seen in full force, of course, in the Protestant North; but throughout Ireland he is a prominent figure of the English garrison.
Creakle cuts a joke before he beats him, and we laugh at it, miserable little dogs, we laugh, with our visages as white as ashes, and our hearts sinking into our boots. Here I sit at the desk again, on a drowsy summer afternoon. A buzz and hum go up around me, as if the boys were so many bluebottles. I would give the world to go to sleep. I sit with my eye on Mr.
Old Creakle! I should like to see him again, too! 'He was a brute to you, Traddles, said I, indignantly; for his good humour made me feel as if I had seen him beaten but yesterday. 'Do you think so? returned Traddles. 'Really? Perhaps he was rather. But it's all over, a long while. Old Creakle! 'You were brought up by an uncle, then? said I. 'Of course I was! said Traddles.
Creakle, who was prowling about the passage, and handsomely flogged for disorderly conduct in the bedroom. Whatever I had within me that was romantic and dreamy, was encouraged by so much story-telling in the dark; and in that respect the pursuit may not have been very profitable to me.
The wooden-legged man turned me about so as to exhibit the placard; and having afforded time for a full survey of it, turned me about again, with my face to Mr. Creakle, and posted himself at Mr. Creakle's side. Mr. Creakle's face was fiery, and his eyes were small, and deep in his head; he had thick veins in his forehead, a little nose, and a large chin.
On my introducing Traddles, Mr. Creakle expressed, in like manner, but in an inferior degree, that he had always been Traddles's guide, philosopher, and friend. Our venerable instructor was a great deal older, and not improved in appearance. His face was as fiery as ever; his eyes were as small, and rather deeper set.
Mr. Creakle, looking hard at Mr. Mell, put his hand on Tungay's shoulder, and got his feet upon the form close by, and sat upon the desk. After still looking hard at Mr. Mell from his throne, as he shook his head, and rubbed his hands, and remained in the same state of agitation, Mr. Creakle turned to Steerforth, and said: 'Now, sir, as he don't condescend to tell me, what is this?
Creakle had laid about him with a heavy hand, I would have given all I had, for lawful permission to get down and thrash him, and let all the boys out like so many caged sparrows. We went to the Golden Cross at Charing Cross, then a mouldy sort of establishment in a close neighbourhood.
Of the three figures selected in particular, Creakle is a caricature; Murdstone, though not exactly that, is a repulsive exception; and Quinion is so mere a comparse or "super" that to base any generalisation on him is absurd. The dislike of the British public to be "talked book to" may be healthy or unhealthy; but if it takes no great heed of this kind of talking book, small blame to it!
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