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diff --git a/old/hardt10.txt b/old/hardt10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0d3defd --- /dev/null +++ b/old/hardt10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12513 @@ +*The Project Gutenberg Etext of Hard Times, by Charles Dickens* +#15 in our series by Charles Dickens + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. 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Plant nothing else, +and root out everything else. You can only form the minds of +reasoning animals upon Facts: nothing else will ever be of any +service to them. This is the principle on which I bring up my own +children, and this is the principle on which I bring up these +children. Stick to Facts, sir!' + +The scene was a plain, bare, monotonous vault of a school-room, and +the speaker's square forefinger emphasized his observations by +underscoring every sentence with a line on the schoolmaster's +sleeve. The emphasis was helped by the speaker's square wall of a +forehead, which had his eyebrows for its base, while his eyes found +commodious cellarage in two dark caves, overshadowed by the wall. +The emphasis was helped by the speaker's mouth, which was wide, +thin, and hard set. The emphasis was helped by the speaker's +voice, which was inflexible, dry, and dictatorial. The emphasis +was helped by the speaker's hair, which bristled on the skirts of +his bald head, a plantation of firs to keep the wind from its +shining surface, all covered with knobs, like the crust of a plum +pie, as if the head had scarcely warehouse-room for the hard facts +stored inside. The speaker's obstinate carriage, square coat, +square legs, square shoulders, - nay, his very neckcloth, trained +to take him by the throat with an unaccommodating grasp, like a +stubborn fact, as it was, - all helped the emphasis. + +'In this life, we want nothing but Facts, sir; nothing but Facts!' + +The speaker, and the schoolmaster, and the third grown person +present, all backed a little, and swept with their eyes the +inclined plane of little vessels then and there arranged in order, +ready to have imperial gallons of facts poured into them until they +were full to the brim. + + + +CHAPTER II - MURDERING THE INNOCENTS + + + +THOMAS GRADGRIND, sir. A man of realities. A man of facts and +calculations. A man who proceeds upon the principle that two and +two are four, and nothing over, and who is not to be talked into +allowing for anything over. Thomas Gradgrind, sir - peremptorily +Thomas - Thomas Gradgrind. With a rule and a pair of scales, and +the multiplication table always in his pocket, sir, ready to weigh +and measure any parcel of human nature, and tell you exactly what +it comes to. It is a mere question of figures, a case of simple +arithmetic. You might hope to get some other nonsensical belief +into the head of George Gradgrind, or Augustus Gradgrind, or John +Gradgrind, or Joseph Gradgrind (all supposititious, non-existent +persons), but into the head of Thomas Gradgrind - no, sir! + +In such terms Mr. Gradgrind always mentally introduced himself, +whether to his private circle of acquaintance, or to the public in +general. In such terms, no doubt, substituting the words 'boys and +girls,' for 'sir,' Thomas Gradgrind now presented Thomas Gradgrind +to the little pitchers before him, who were to be filled so full of +facts. + +Indeed, as he eagerly sparkled at them from the cellarage before +mentioned, he seemed a kind of cannon loaded to the muzzle with +facts, and prepared to blow them clean out of the regions of +childhood at one discharge. He seemed a galvanizing apparatus, +too, charged with a grim mechanical substitute for the tender young +imaginations that were to be stormed away. + +'Girl number twenty,' said Mr. Gradgrind, squarely pointing with +his square forefinger, 'I don't know that girl. Who is that girl?' + +'Sissy Jupe, sir,' explained number twenty, blushing, standing up, +and curtseying. + +'Sissy is not a name,' said Mr. Gradgrind. 'Don't call yourself +Sissy. Call yourself Cecilia.' + +'It's father as calls me Sissy, sir,' returned the young girl in a +trembling voice, and with another curtsey. + +'Then he has no business to do it,' said Mr. Gradgrind. 'Tell him +he mustn't. Cecilia Jupe. Let me see. What is your father?' + +'He belongs to the horse-riding, if you please, sir.' + +Mr. Gradgrind frowned, and waved off the objectionable calling with +his hand. + +'We don't want to know anything about that, here. You mustn't tell +us about that, here. Your father breaks horses, don't he?' + +'If you please, sir, when they can get any to break, they do break +horses in the ring, sir.' + +'You mustn't tell us about the ring, here. Very well, then. +Describe your father as a horsebreaker. He doctors sick horses, I +dare say?' + +'Oh yes, sir.' + +'Very well, then. He is a veterinary surgeon, a farrier, and +horsebreaker. Give me your definition of a horse.' + +(Sissy Jupe thrown into the greatest alarm by this demand.) + +'Girl number twenty unable to define a horse!' said Mr. Gradgrind, +for the general behoof of all the little pitchers. 'Girl number +twenty possessed of no facts, in reference to one of the commonest +of animals! Some boy's definition of a horse. Bitzer, yours.' + +The square finger, moving here and there, lighted suddenly on +Bitzer, perhaps because he chanced to sit in the same ray of +sunlight which, darting in at one of the bare windows of the +intensely white-washed room, irradiated Sissy. For, the boys and +girls sat on the face of the inclined plane in two compact bodies, +divided up the centre by a narrow interval; and Sissy, being at the +corner of a row on the sunny side, came in for the beginning of a +sunbeam, of which Bitzer, being at the corner of a row on the other +side, a few rows in advance, caught the end. But, whereas the girl +was so dark-eyed and dark-haired, that she seemed to receive a +deeper and more lustrous colour from the sun, when it shone upon +her, the boy was so light-eyed and light-haired that the self-same +rays appeared to draw out of him what little colour he ever +possessed. His cold eyes would hardly have been eyes, but for the +short ends of lashes which, by bringing them into immediate +contrast with something paler than themselves, expressed their +form. His short-cropped hair might have been a mere continuation +of the sandy freckles on his forehead and face. His skin was so +unwholesomely deficient in the natural tinge, that he looked as +though, if he were cut, he would bleed white. + +'Bitzer,' said Thomas Gradgrind. 'Your definition of a horse.' + +'Quadruped. Graminivorous. Forty teeth, namely twenty-four +grinders, four eye-teeth, and twelve incisive. Sheds coat in the +spring; in marshy countries, sheds hoofs, too. Hoofs hard, but +requiring to be shod with iron. Age known by marks in mouth.' +Thus (and much more) Bitzer. + +'Now girl number twenty,' said Mr. Gradgrind. 'You know what a +horse is.' + +She curtseyed again, and would have blushed deeper, if she could +have blushed deeper than she had blushed all this time. Bitzer, +after rapidly blinking at Thomas Gradgrind with both eyes at once, +and so catching the light upon his quivering ends of lashes that +they looked like the antennae of busy insects, put his knuckles to +his freckled forehead, and sat down again. + +The third gentleman now stepped forth. A mighty man at cutting and +drying, he was; a government officer; in his way (and in most other +people's too), a professed pugilist; always in training, always +with a system to force down the general throat like a bolus, always +to be heard of at the bar of his little Public-office, ready to +fight all England. To continue in fistic phraseology, he had a +genius for coming up to the scratch, wherever and whatever it was, +and proving himself an ugly customer. He would go in and damage +any subject whatever with his right, follow up with his left, stop, +exchange, counter, bore his opponent (he always fought All England) +to the ropes, and fall upon him neatly. He was certain to knock +the wind out of common sense, and render that unlucky adversary +deaf to the call of time. And he had it in charge from high +authority to bring about the great public-office Millennium, when +Commissioners should reign upon earth. + +'Very well,' said this gentleman, briskly smiling, and folding his +arms. 'That's a horse. Now, let me ask you girls and boys, Would +you paper a room with representations of horses?' + +After a pause, one half of the children cried in chorus, 'Yes, +sir!' Upon which the other half, seeing in the gentleman's face +that Yes was wrong, cried out in chorus, 'No, sir!' - as the custom +is, in these examinations. + +'Of course, No. Why wouldn't you?' + +A pause. One corpulent slow boy, with a wheezy manner of +breathing, ventured the answer, Because he wouldn't paper a room at +all, but would paint it. + +'You must paper it,' said the gentleman, rather warmly. + +'You must paper it,' said Thomas Gradgrind, 'whether you like it or +not. Don't tell us you wouldn't paper it. What do you mean, boy?' + +'I'll explain to you, then,' said the gentleman, after another and +a dismal pause, 'why you wouldn't paper a room with representations +of horses. Do you ever see horses walking up and down the sides of +rooms in reality - in fact? Do you?' + +'Yes, sir!' from one half. 'No, sir!' from the other. + +'Of course no,' said the gentleman, with an indignant look at the +wrong half. 'Why, then, you are not to see anywhere, what you +don't see in fact; you are not to have anywhere, what you don't +have in fact. What is called Taste, is only another name for +Fact.' Thomas Gradgrind nodded his approbation. + +'This is a new principle, a discovery, a great discovery,' said the +gentleman. 'Now, I'll try you again. Suppose you were going to +carpet a room. Would you use a carpet having a representation of +flowers upon it?' + +There being a general conviction by this time that 'No, sir!' was +always the right answer to this gentleman, the chorus of NO was +very strong. Only a few feeble stragglers said Yes: among them +Sissy Jupe. + +'Girl number twenty,' said the gentleman, smiling in the calm +strength of knowledge. + +Sissy blushed, and stood up. + +'So you would carpet your room - or your husband's room, if you +were a grown woman, and had a husband - with representations of +flowers, would you?' said the gentleman. 'Why would you?' + +'If you please, sir, I am very fond of flowers,' returned the girl. + +'And is that why you would put tables and chairs upon them, and +have people walking over them with heavy boots?' + +'It wouldn't hurt them, sir. They wouldn't crush and wither, if +you please, sir. They would be the pictures of what was very +pretty and pleasant, and I would fancy - ' + +'Ay, ay, ay! But you mustn't fancy,' cried the gentleman, quite +elated by coming so happily to his point. 'That's it! You are +never to fancy.' + +'You are not, Cecilia Jupe,' Thomas Gradgrind solemnly repeated, +'to do anything of that kind.' + +'Fact, fact, fact!' said the gentleman. And 'Fact, fact, fact!' +repeated Thomas Gradgrind. + +'You are to be in all things regulated and governed,' said the +gentleman, 'by fact. We hope to have, before long, a board of +fact, composed of commissioners of fact, who will force the people +to be a people of fact, and of nothing but fact. You must discard +the word Fancy altogether. You have nothing to do with it. You +are not to have, in any object of use or ornament, what would be a +contradiction in fact. You don't walk upon flowers in fact; you +cannot be allowed to walk upon flowers in carpets. You don't find +that foreign birds and butterflies come and perch upon your +crockery; you cannot be permitted to paint foreign birds and +butterflies upon your crockery. You never meet with quadrupeds +going up and down walls; you must not have quadrupeds represented +upon walls. You must use,' said the gentleman, 'for all these +purposes, combinations and modifications (in primary colours) of +mathematical figures which are susceptible of proof and +demonstration. This is the new discovery. This is fact. This is +taste.' + +The girl curtseyed, and sat down. She was very young, and she +looked as if she were frightened by the matter-of-fact prospect the +world afforded. + +'Now, if Mr. M'Choakumchild,' said the gentleman, 'will proceed to +give his first lesson here, Mr. Gradgrind, I shall be happy, at +your request, to observe his mode of procedure.' + +Mr. Gradgrind was much obliged. 'Mr. M'Choakumchild, we only wait +for you.' + +So, Mr. M'Choakumchild began in his best manner. He and some one +hundred and forty other schoolmasters, had been lately turned at +the same time, in the same factory, on the same principles, like so +many pianoforte legs. He had been put through an immense variety +of paces, and had answered volumes of head-breaking questions. +Orthography, etymology, syntax, and prosody, biography, astronomy, +geography, and general cosmography, the sciences of compound +proportion, algebra, land-surveying and levelling, vocal music, and +drawing from models, were all at the ends of his ten chilled +fingers. He had worked his stony way into Her Majesty's most +Honourable Privy Council's Schedule B, and had taken the bloom off +the higher branches of mathematics and physical science, French, +German, Latin, and Greek. He knew all about all the Water Sheds of +all the world (whatever they are), and all the histories of all the +peoples, and all the names of all the rivers and mountains, and all +the productions, manners, and customs of all the countries, and all +their boundaries and bearings on the two and thirty points of the +compass. Ah, rather overdone, M'Choakumchild. If he had only +learnt a little less, how infinitely better he might have taught +much more! + +He went to work in this preparatory lesson, not unlike Morgiana in +the Forty Thieves: looking into all the vessels ranged before him, +one after another, to see what they contained. Say, good +M'Choakumchild. When from thy boiling store, thou shalt fill each +jar brim full by-and-by, dost thou think that thou wilt always kill +outright the robber Fancy lurking within - or sometimes only maim +him and distort him! + + + +CHAPTER III - A LOOPHOLE + + + +MR. GRADGRIND walked homeward from the school, in a state of +considerable satisfaction. It was his school, and he intended it +to be a model. He intended every child in it to be a model - just +as the young Gradgrinds were all models. + +There were five young Gradgrinds, and they were models every one. +They had been lectured at, from their tenderest years; coursed, +like little hares. Almost as soon as they could run alone, they +had been made to run to the lecture-room. The first object with +which they had an association, or of which they had a remembrance, +was a large black board with a dry Ogre chalking ghastly white +figures on it. + +Not that they knew, by name or nature, anything about an Ogre Fact +forbid! I only use the word to express a monster in a lecturing +castle, with Heaven knows how many heads manipulated into one, +taking childhood captive, and dragging it into gloomy statistical +dens by the hair. + +No little Gradgrind had ever seen a face in the moon; it was up in +the moon before it could speak distinctly. No little Gradgrind had +ever learnt the silly jingle, Twinkle, twinkle, little star; how I +wonder what you are! No little Gradgrind had ever known wonder on +the subject, each little Gradgrind having at five years old +dissected the Great Bear like a Professor Owen, and driven +Charles's Wain like a locomotive engine-driver. No little +Gradgrind had ever associated a cow in a field with that famous cow +with the crumpled horn who tossed the dog who worried the cat who +killed the rat who ate the malt, or with that yet more famous cow +who swallowed Tom Thumb: it had never heard of those celebrities, +and had only been introduced to a cow as a graminivorous ruminating +quadruped with several stomachs. + +To his matter-of-fact home, which was called Stone Lodge, Mr. +Gradgrind directed his steps. He had virtually retired from the +wholesale hardware trade before he built Stone Lodge, and was now +looking about for a suitable opportunity of making an arithmetical +figure in Parliament. Stone Lodge was situated on a moor within a +mile or two of a great town - called Coketown in the present +faithful guide-book. + +A very regular feature on the face of the country, Stone Lodge was. +Not the least disguise toned down or shaded off that uncompromising +fact in the landscape. A great square house, with a heavy portico +darkening the principal windows, as its master's heavy brows +overshadowed his eyes. A calculated, cast up, balanced, and proved +house. Six windows on this side of the door, six on that side; a +total of twelve in this wing, a total of twelve in the other wing; +four-and-twenty carried over to the back wings. A lawn and garden +and an infant avenue, all ruled straight like a botanical account- +book. Gas and ventilation, drainage and water-service, all of the +primest quality. Iron clamps and girders, fire-proof from top to +bottom; mechanical lifts for the housemaids, with all their brushes +and brooms; everything that heart could desire. + +Everything? Well, I suppose so. The little Gradgrinds had +cabinets in various departments of science too. They had a little +conchological cabinet, and a little metallurgical cabinet, and a +little mineralogical cabinet; and the specimens were all arranged +and labelled, and the bits of stone and ore looked as though they +might have been broken from the parent substances by those +tremendously hard instruments their own names; and, to paraphrase +the idle legend of Peter Piper, who had never found his way into +their nursery, If the greedy little Gradgrinds grasped at more than +this, what was it for good gracious goodness' sake, that the greedy +little Gradgrinds grasped it! + +Their father walked on in a hopeful and satisfied frame of mind. +He was an affectionate father, after his manner; but he would +probably have described himself (if he had been put, like Sissy +Jupe, upon a definition) as 'an eminently practical' father. He +had a particular pride in the phrase eminently practical, which was +considered to have a special application to him. Whatsoever the +public meeting held in Coketown, and whatsoever the subject of such +meeting, some Coketowner was sure to seize the occasion of alluding +to his eminently practical friend Gradgrind. This always pleased +the eminently practical friend. He knew it to be his due, but his +due was acceptable. + +He had reached the neutral ground upon the outskirts of the town, +which was neither town nor country, and yet was either spoiled, +when his ears were invaded by the sound of music. The clashing and +banging band attached to the horse-riding establishment, which had +there set up its rest in a wooden pavilion, was in full bray. A +flag, floating from the summit of the temple, proclaimed to mankind +that it was 'Sleary's Horse-riding' which claimed their suffrages. +Sleary himself, a stout modern statue with a money-box at its +elbow, in an ecclesiastical niche of early Gothic architecture, +took the money. Miss Josephine Sleary, as some very long and very +narrow strips of printed bill announced, was then inaugurating the +entertainments with her graceful equestrian Tyrolean flower-act. +Among the other pleasing but always strictly moral wonders which +must be seen to be believed, Signor Jupe was that afternoon to +'elucidate the diverting accomplishments of his highly trained +performing dog Merrylegs.' He was also to exhibit 'his astounding +feat of throwing seventy-five hundred-weight in rapid succession +backhanded over his head, thus forming a fountain of solid iron in +mid-air, a feat never before attempted in this or any other +country, and which having elicited such rapturous plaudits from +enthusiastic throngs it cannot be withdrawn.' The same Signor Jupe +was to 'enliven the varied performances at frequent intervals with +his chaste Shaksperean quips and retorts.' Lastly, he was to wind +them up by appearing in his favourite character of Mr. William +Button, of Tooley Street, in 'the highly novel and laughable hippo- +comedietta of The Tailor's Journey to Brentford.' + +Thomas Gradgrind took no heed of these trivialities of course, but +passed on as a practical man ought to pass on, either brushing the +noisy insects from his thoughts, or consigning them to the House of +Correction. But, the turning of the road took him by the back of +the booth, and at the back of the booth a number of children were +congregated in a number of stealthy attitudes, striving to peep in +at the hidden glories of the place. + +This brought him to a stop. 'Now, to think of these vagabonds,' +said he, 'attracting the young rabble from a model school.' + +A space of stunted grass and dry rubbish being between him and the +young rabble, he took his eyeglass out of his waistcoat to look for +any child he knew by name, and might order off. Phenomenon almost +incredible though distinctly seen, what did he then behold but his +own metallurgical Louisa, peeping with all her might through a hole +in a deal board, and his own mathematical Thomas abasing himself on +the ground to catch but a hoof of the graceful equestrian Tyrolean +flower-act! + +Dumb with amazement, Mr. Gradgrind crossed to the spot where his +family was thus disgraced, laid his hand upon each erring child, +and said: + +'Louisa!! Thomas!!' + +Both rose, red and disconcerted. But, Louisa looked at her father +with more boldness than Thomas did. Indeed, Thomas did not look at +him, but gave himself up to be taken home like a machine. + +'In the name of wonder, idleness, and folly!' said Mr. Gradgrind, +leading each away by a hand; 'what do you do here?' + +'Wanted to see what it was like,' returned Louisa, shortly. + +'What it was like?' + +'Yes, father.' + +There was an air of jaded sullenness in them both, and particularly +in the girl: yet, struggling through the dissatisfaction of her +face, there was a light with nothing to rest upon, a fire with +nothing to burn, a starved imagination keeping life in itself +somehow, which brightened its expression. Not with the brightness +natural to cheerful youth, but with uncertain, eager, doubtful +flashes, which had something painful in them, analogous to the +changes on a blind face groping its way. + +She was a child now, of fifteen or sixteen; but at no distant day +would seem to become a woman all at once. Her father thought so as +he looked at her. She was pretty. Would have been self-willed (he +thought in his eminently practical way) but for her bringing-up. + +'Thomas, though I have the fact before me, I find it difficult to +believe that you, with your education and resources, should have +brought your sister to a scene like this.' + +'I brought him, father,' said Louisa, quickly. 'I asked him to +come.' + +'I am sorry to hear it. I am very sorry indeed to hear it. It +makes Thomas no better, and it makes you worse, Louisa.' + +She looked at her father again, but no tear fell down her cheek. + +'You! Thomas and you, to whom the circle of the sciences is open; +Thomas and you, who may be said to be replete with facts; Thomas +and you, who have been trained to mathematical exactness; Thomas +and you, here!' cried Mr. Gradgrind. 'In this degraded position! +I am amazed.' + +'I was tired, father. I have been tired a long time,' said Louisa. + +'Tired? Of what?' asked the astonished father. + +'I don't know of what - of everything, I think.' + +'Say not another word,' returned Mr. Gradgrind. 'You are childish. +I will hear no more.' He did not speak again until they had walked +some half-a-mile in silence, when he gravely broke out with: 'What +would your best friends say, Louisa? Do you attach no value to +their good opinion? What would Mr. Bounderby say?' At the mention +of this name, his daughter stole a look at him, remarkable for its +intense and searching character. He saw nothing of it, for before +he looked at her, she had again cast down her eyes! + +'What,' he repeated presently, 'would Mr. Bounderby say?' All the +way to Stone Lodge, as with grave indignation he led the two +delinquents home, he repeated at intervals 'What would Mr. +Bounderby say?' - as if Mr. Bounderby had been Mrs. Grundy. + + + +CHAPTER IV - MR. BOUNDERBY + + + +NOT being Mrs. Grundy, who was Mr. Bounderby? + +Why, Mr. Bounderby was as near being Mr. Gradgrind's bosom friend, +as a man perfectly devoid of sentiment can approach that spiritual +relationship towards another man perfectly devoid of sentiment. So +near was Mr. Bounderby - or, if the reader should prefer it, so far +off. + +He was a rich man: banker, merchant, manufacturer, and what not. +A big, loud man, with a stare, and a metallic laugh. A man made +out of a coarse material, which seemed to have been stretched to +make so much of him. A man with a great puffed head and forehead, +swelled veins in his temples, and such a strained skin to his face +that it seemed to hold his eyes open, and lift his eyebrows up. A +man with a pervading appearance on him of being inflated like a +balloon, and ready to start. A man who could never sufficiently +vaunt himself a self-made man. A man who was always proclaiming, +through that brassy speaking-trumpet of a voice of his, his old +ignorance and his old poverty. A man who was the Bully of +humility. + +A year or two younger than his eminently practical friend, Mr. +Bounderby looked older; his seven or eight and forty might have had +the seven or eight added to it again, without surprising anybody. +He had not much hair. One might have fancied he had talked it off; +and that what was left, all standing up in disorder, was in that +condition from being constantly blown about by his windy +boastfulness. + +In the formal drawing-room of Stone Lodge, standing on the +hearthrug, warming himself before the fire, Mr. Bounderby delivered +some observations to Mrs. Gradgrind on the circumstance of its +being his birthday. He stood before the fire, partly because it +was a cool spring afternoon, though the sun shone; partly because +the shade of Stone Lodge was always haunted by the ghost of damp +mortar; partly because he thus took up a commanding position, from +which to subdue Mrs. Gradgrind. + +'I hadn't a shoe to my foot. As to a stocking, I didn't know such +a thing by name. I passed the day in a ditch, and the night in a +pigsty. That's the way I spent my tenth birthday. Not that a +ditch was new to me, for I was born in a ditch.' + +Mrs. Gradgrind, a little, thin, white, pink-eyed bundle of shawls, +of surpassing feebleness, mental and bodily; who was always taking +physic without any effect, and who, whenever she showed a symptom +of coming to life, was invariably stunned by some weighty piece of +fact tumbling on her; Mrs. Gradgrind hoped it was a dry ditch? + +'No! As wet as a sop. A foot of water in it,' said Mr. Bounderby. + +'Enough to give a baby cold,' Mrs. Gradgrind considered. + +'Cold? I was born with inflammation of the lungs, and of +everything else, I believe, that was capable of inflammation,' +returned Mr. Bounderby. 'For years, ma'am, I was one of the most +miserable little wretches ever seen. I was so sickly, that I was +always moaning and groaning. I was so ragged and dirty, that you +wouldn't have touched me with a pair of tongs.' + +Mrs. Gradgrind faintly looked at the tongs, as the most appropriate +thing her imbecility could think of doing. + +'How I fought through it, I don't know,' said Bounderby. 'I was +determined, I suppose. I have been a determined character in later +life, and I suppose I was then. Here I am, Mrs. Gradgrind, anyhow, +and nobody to thank for my being here, but myself.' + +Mrs. Gradgrind meekly and weakly hoped that his mother - + +'My mother? Bolted, ma'am!' said Bounderby. + +Mrs. Gradgrind, stunned as usual, collapsed and gave it up. + +'My mother left me to my grandmother,' said Bounderby; 'and, +according to the best of my remembrance, my grandmother was the +wickedest and the worst old woman that ever lived. If I got a +little pair of shoes by any chance, she would take 'em off and sell +'em for drink. Why, I have known that grandmother of mine lie in +her bed and drink her four-teen glasses of liquor before +breakfast!' + +Mrs. Gradgrind, weakly smiling, and giving no other sign of +vitality, looked (as she always did) like an indifferently executed +transparency of a small female figure, without enough light behind +it. + +'She kept a chandler's shop,' pursued Bounderby, 'and kept me in an +egg-box. That was the cot of my infancy; an old egg-box. As soon +as I was big enough to run away, of course I ran away. Then I +became a young vagabond; and instead of one old woman knocking me +about and starving me, everybody of all ages knocked me about and +starved me. They were right; they had no business to do anything +else. I was a nuisance, an incumbrance, and a pest. I know that +very well.' + +His pride in having at any time of his life achieved such a great +social distinction as to be a nuisance, an incumbrance, and a pest, +was only to be satisfied by three sonorous repetitions of the +boast. + +'I was to pull through it, I suppose, Mrs. Gradgrind. Whether I +was to do it or not, ma'am, I did it. I pulled through it, though +nobody threw me out a rope. Vagabond, errand-boy, vagabond, +labourer, porter, clerk, chief manager, small partner, Josiah +Bounderby of Coketown. Those are the antecedents, and the +culmination. Josiah Bounderby of Coketown learnt his letters from +the outsides of the shops, Mrs. Gradgrind, and was first able to +tell the time upon a dial-plate, from studying the steeple clock of +St. Giles's Church, London, under the direction of a drunken +cripple, who was a convicted thief, and an incorrigible vagrant. +Tell Josiah Bounderby of Coketown, of your district schools and +your model schools, and your training schools, and your whole +kettle-of-fish of schools; and Josiah Bounderby of Coketown, tells +you plainly, all right, all correct - he hadn't such advantages - +but let us have hard-headed, solid-fisted people - the education +that made him won't do for everybody, he knows well - such and such +his education was, however, and you may force him to swallow +boiling fat, but you shall never force him to suppress the facts of +his life.' + +Being heated when he arrived at this climax, Josiah Bounderby of +Coketown stopped. He stopped just as his eminently practical +friend, still accompanied by the two young culprits, entered the +room. His eminently practical friend, on seeing him, stopped also, +and gave Louisa a reproachful look that plainly said, 'Behold your +Bounderby!' + +'Well!' blustered Mr. Bounderby, 'what's the matter? What is young +Thomas in the dumps about?' + +He spoke of young Thomas, but he looked at Louisa. + +'We were peeping at the circus,' muttered Louisa, haughtily, +without lifting up her eyes, 'and father caught us.' + +'And, Mrs. Gradgrind,' said her husband in a lofty manner, 'I +should as soon have expected to find my children reading poetry.' + +'Dear me,' whimpered Mrs. Gradgrind. 'How can you, Louisa and +Thomas! I wonder at you. I declare you're enough to make one +regret ever having had a family at all. I have a great mind to say +I wish I hadn't. Then what would you have done, I should like to +know?' + +Mr. Gradgrind did not seem favourably impressed by these cogent +remarks. He frowned impatiently. + +'As if, with my head in its present throbbing state, you couldn't +go and look at the shells and minerals and things provided for you, +instead of circuses!' said Mrs. Gradgrind. 'You know, as well as I +do, no young people have circus masters, or keep circuses in +cabinets, or attend lectures about circuses. What can you possibly +want to know of circuses then? I am sure you have enough to do, if +that's what you want. With my head in its present state, I +couldn't remember the mere names of half the facts you have got to +attend to.' + +'That's the reason!' pouted Louisa. + +'Don't tell me that's the reason, because it can't be nothing of +the sort,' said Mrs. Gradgrind. 'Go and be somethingological +directly.' Mrs. Gradgrind was not a scientific character, and +usually dismissed her children to their studies with this general +injunction to choose their pursuit. + +In truth, Mrs. Gradgrind's stock of facts in general was woefully +defective; but Mr. Gradgrind in raising her to her high matrimonial +position, had been influenced by two reasons. Firstly, she was +most satisfactory as a question of figures; and, secondly, she had +'no nonsense' about her. By nonsense he meant fancy; and truly it +is probable she was as free from any alloy of that nature, as any +human being not arrived at the perfection of an absolute idiot, +ever was. + +The simple circumstance of being left alone with her husband and +Mr. Bounderby, was sufficient to stun this admirable lady again +without collision between herself and any other fact. So, she once +more died away, and nobody minded her. + +'Bounderby,' said Mr. Gradgrind, drawing a chair to the fireside, +'you are always so interested in my young people - particularly in +Louisa - that I make no apology for saying to you, I am very much +vexed by this discovery. I have systematically devoted myself (as +you know) to the education of the reason of my family. The reason +is (as you know) the only faculty to which education should be +addressed. 'And yet, Bounderby, it would appear from this +unexpected circumstance of to-day, though in itself a trifling one, +as if something had crept into Thomas's and Louisa's minds which is +- or rather, which is not - I don't know that I can express myself +better than by saying - which has never been intended to be +developed, and in which their reason has no part.' + +'There certainly is no reason in looking with interest at a parcel +of vagabonds,' returned Bounderby. 'When I was a vagabond myself, +nobody looked with any interest at me; I know that.' + +'Then comes the question; said the eminently practical father, with +his eyes on the fire, 'in what has this vulgar curiosity its rise?' + +'I'll tell you in what. In idle imagination.' + +'I hope not,' said the eminently practical; 'I confess, however, +that the misgiving has crossed me on my way home.' + +'In idle imagination, Gradgrind,' repeated Bounderby. 'A very bad +thing for anybody, but a cursed bad thing for a girl like Louisa. +I should ask Mrs. Gradgrind's pardon for strong expressions, but +that she knows very well I am not a refined character. Whoever +expects refinement in me will be disappointed. I hadn't a refined +bringing up.' + +'Whether,' said Gradgrind, pondering with his hands in his pockets, +and his cavernous eyes on the fire, 'whether any instructor or +servant can have suggested anything? Whether Louisa or Thomas can +have been reading anything? Whether, in spite of all precautions, +any idle story-book can have got into the house? Because, in minds +that have been practically formed by rule and line, from the cradle +upwards, this is so curious, so incomprehensible.' + +'Stop a bit!' cried Bounderby, who all this time had been standing, +as before, on the hearth, bursting at the very furniture of the +room with explosive humility. 'You have one of those strollers' +children in the school.' + +'Cecilia Jupe, by name,' said Mr. Gradgrind, with something of a +stricken look at his friend. + +'Now, stop a bit!' cried Bounderby again. 'How did she come +there?' + +'Why, the fact is, I saw the girl myself, for the first time, only +just now. She specially applied here at the house to be admitted, +as not regularly belonging to our town, and - yes, you are right, +Bounderby, you are right.' + +'Now, stop a bit!' cried Bounderby, once more. 'Louisa saw her +when she came?' + +'Louisa certainly did see her, for she mentioned the application to +me. But Louisa saw her, I have no doubt, in Mrs. Gradgrind's +presence.' + +'Pray, Mrs. Gradgrind,' said Bounderby, 'what passed?' + +'Oh, my poor health!' returned Mrs. Gradgrind. 'The girl wanted to +come to the school, and Mr. Gradgrind wanted girls to come to the +school, and Louisa and Thomas both said that the girl wanted to +come, and that Mr. Gradgrind wanted girls to come, and how was it +possible to contradict them when such was the fact!' + +'Now I tell you what, Gradgrind!' said Mr. Bounderby. 'Turn this +girl to the right about, and there's an end of it.' + +'I am much of your opinion.' + +'Do it at once,' said Bounderby, 'has always been my motto from a +child. When I thought I would run away from my egg-box and my +grandmother, I did it at once. Do you the same. Do this at once!' + +'Are you walking?' asked his friend. 'I have the father's address. +Perhaps you would not mind walking to town with me?' + +'Not the least in the world,' said Mr. Bounderby, 'as long as you +do it at once!' + +So, Mr. Bounderby threw on his hat - he always threw it on, as +expressing a man who had been far too busily employed in making +himself, to acquire any fashion of wearing his hat - and with his +hands in his pockets, sauntered out into the hall. 'I never wear +gloves,' it was his custom to say. 'I didn't climb up the ladder +in them. - Shouldn't be so high up, if I had.' + +Being left to saunter in the hall a minute or two while Mr. +Gradgrind went up-stairs for the address, he opened the door of the +children's study and looked into that serene floor-clothed +apartment, which, notwithstanding its book-cases and its cabinets +and its variety of learned and philosophical appliances, had much +of the genial aspect of a room devoted to hair-cutting. Louisa +languidly leaned upon the window looking out, without looking at +anything, while young Thomas stood sniffing revengefully at the +fire. Adam Smith and Malthus, two younger Gradgrinds, were out at +lecture in custody; and little Jane, after manufacturing a good +deal of moist pipe-clay on her face with slate-pencil and tears, +had fallen asleep over vulgar fractions. + +'It's all right now, Louisa: it's all right, young Thomas,' said +Mr. Bounderby; 'you won't do so any more. I'll answer for it's +being all over with father. Well, Louisa, that's worth a kiss, +isn't it?' + +'You can take one, Mr. Bounderby,' returned Louisa, when she had +coldly paused, and slowly walked across the room, and ungraciously +raised her cheek towards him, with her face turned away. + +'Always my pet; ain't you, Louisa?' said Mr. Bounderby. 'Good-bye, +Louisa!' + +He went his way, but she stood on the same spot, rubbing the cheek +he had kissed, with her handkerchief, until it was burning red. +She was still doing this, five minutes afterwards. + +'What are you about, Loo?' her brother sulkily remonstrated. +'You'll rub a hole in your face.' + +'You may cut the piece out with your penknife if you like, Tom. I +wouldn't cry!' + + + +CHAPTER V - THE KEYNOTE + + + +COKETOWN, to which Messrs. Bounderby and Gradgrind now walked, was +a triumph of fact; it had no greater taint of fancy in it than Mrs. +Gradgrind herself. Let us strike the key-note, Coketown, before +pursuing our tune. + +It was a town of red brick, or of brick that would have been red if +the smoke and ashes had allowed it; but as matters stood, it was a +town of unnatural red and black like the painted face of a savage. +It was a town of machinery and tall chimneys, out of which +interminable serpents of smoke trailed themselves for ever and +ever, and never got uncoiled. It had a black canal in it, and a +river that ran purple with ill-smelling dye, and vast piles of +building full of windows where there was a rattling and a trembling +all day long, and where the piston of the steam-engine worked +monotonously up and down, like the head of an elephant in a state +of melancholy madness. It contained several large streets all very +like one another, and many small streets still more like one +another, inhabited by people equally like one another, who all went +in and out at the same hours, with the same sound upon the same +pavements, to do the same work, and to whom every day was the same +as yesterday and to-morrow, and every year the counterpart of the +last and the next. + +These attributes of Coketown were in the main inseparable from the +work by which it was sustained; against them were to be set off, +comforts of life which found their way all over the world, and +elegancies of life which made, we will not ask how much of the fine +lady, who could scarcely bear to hear the place mentioned. The +rest of its features were voluntary, and they were these. + +You saw nothing in Coketown but what was severely workful. If the +members of a religious persuasion built a chapel there - as the +members of eighteen religious persuasions had done - they made it a +pious warehouse of red brick, with sometimes (but this is only in +highly ornamental examples) a bell in a birdcage on the top of it. +The solitary exception was the New Church; a stuccoed edifice with +a square steeple over the door, terminating in four short pinnacles +like florid wooden legs. All the public inscriptions in the town +were painted alike, in severe characters of black and white. The +jail might have been the infirmary, the infirmary might have been +the jail, the town-hall might have been either, or both, or +anything else, for anything that appeared to the contrary in the +graces of their construction. Fact, fact, fact, everywhere in the +material aspect of the town; fact, fact, fact, everywhere in the +immaterial. The M'Choakumchild school was all fact, and the school +of design was all fact, and the relations between master and man +were all fact, and everything was fact between the lying-in +hospital and the cemetery, and what you couldn't state in figures, +or show to be purchaseable in the cheapest market and saleable in +the dearest, was not, and never should be, world without end, Amen. + +A town so sacred to fact, and so triumphant in its assertion, of +course got on well? Why no, not quite well. No? Dear me! + +No. Coketown did not come out of its own furnaces, in all respects +like gold that had stood the fire. First, the perplexing mystery +of the place was, Who belonged to the eighteen denominations? +Because, whoever did, the labouring people did not. It was very +strange to walk through the streets on a Sunday morning, and note +how few of them the barbarous jangling of bells that was driving +the sick and nervous mad, called away from their own quarter, from +their own close rooms, from the corners of their own streets, where +they lounged listlessly, gazing at all the church and chapel going, +as at a thing with which they had no manner of concern. Nor was it +merely the stranger who noticed this, because there was a native +organization in Coketown itself, whose members were to be heard of +in the House of Commons every session, indignantly petitioning for +acts of parliament that should make these people religious by main +force. Then came the Teetotal Society, who complained that these +same people would get drunk, and showed in tabular statements that +they did get drunk, and proved at tea parties that no inducement, +human or Divine (except a medal), would induce them to forego their +custom of getting drunk. Then came the chemist and druggist, with +other tabular statements, showing that when they didn't get drunk, +they took opium. Then came the experienced chaplain of the jail, +with more tabular statements, outdoing all the previous tabular +statements, and showing that the same people would resort to low +haunts, hidden from the public eye, where they heard low singing +and saw low dancing, and mayhap joined in it; and where A. B., aged +twenty-four next birthday, and committed for eighteen months' +solitary, had himself said (not that he had ever shown himself +particularly worthy of belief) his ruin began, as he was perfectly +sure and confident that otherwise he would have been a tip-top +moral specimen. Then came Mr. Gradgrind and Mr. Bounderby, the two +gentlemen at this present moment walking through Coketown, and both +eminently practical, who could, on occasion, furnish more tabular +statements derived from their own personal experience, and +illustrated by cases they had known and seen, from which it clearly +appeared - in short, it was the only clear thing in the case - that +these same people were a bad lot altogether, gentlemen; that do +what you would for them they were never thankful for it, gentlemen; +that they were restless, gentlemen; that they never knew what they +wanted; that they lived upon the best, and bought fresh butter; and +insisted on Mocha coffee, and rejected all but prime parts of meat, +and yet were eternally dissatisfied and unmanageable. In short, it +was the moral of the old nursery fable: + + +There was an old woman, and what do you think? +She lived upon nothing but victuals and drink; +Victuals and drink were the whole of her diet, +And yet this old woman would NEVER be quiet. + + +Is it possible, I wonder, that there was any analogy between the +case of the Coketown population and the case of the little +Gradgrinds? Surely, none of us in our sober senses and acquainted +with figures, are to be told at this time of day, that one of the +foremost elements in the existence of the Coketown working-people +had been for scores of years, deliberately set at nought? That +there was any Fancy in them demanding to be brought into healthy +existence instead of struggling on in convulsions? That exactly in +the ratio as they worked long and monotonously, the craving grew +within them for some physical relief - some relaxation, encouraging +good humour and good spirits, and giving them a vent - some +recognized holiday, though it were but for an honest dance to a +stirring band of music - some occasional light pie in which even +M'Choakumchild had no finger - which craving must and would be +satisfied aright, or must and would inevitably go wrong, until the +laws of the Creation were repealed? + +'This man lives at Pod's End, and I don't quite know Pod's End,' +said Mr. Gradgrind. 'Which is it, Bounderby?' + +Mr. Bounderby knew it was somewhere down town, but knew no more +respecting it. So they stopped for a moment, looking about. + +Almost as they did so, there came running round the corner of the +street at a quick pace and with a frightened look, a girl whom Mr. +Gradgrind recognized. 'Halloa!' said he. 'Stop! Where are you +going! Stop!' Girl number twenty stopped then, palpitating, and +made him a curtsey. + +'Why are you tearing about the streets,' said Mr. Gradgrind, 'in +this improper manner?' + +'I was - I was run after, sir,' the girl panted, 'and I wanted to +get away.' + +'Run after?' repeated Mr. Gradgrind. 'Who would run after you?' + +The question was unexpectedly and suddenly answered for her, by the +colourless boy, Bitzer, who came round the corner with such blind +speed and so little anticipating a stoppage on the pavement, that +he brought himself up against Mr. Gradgrind's waistcoat and +rebounded into the road. + +'What do you mean, boy?' said Mr. Gradgrind. 'What are you doing? +How dare you dash against - everybody - in this manner?' Bitzer +picked up his cap, which the concussion had knocked off; and +backing, and knuckling his forehead, pleaded that it was an +accident. + +'Was this boy running after you, Jupe?' asked Mr. Gradgrind. + +'Yes, sir,' said the girl reluctantly. + +'No, I wasn't, sir!' cried Bitzer. 'Not till she run away from me. +But the horse-riders never mind what they say, sir; they're famous +for it. You know the horse-riders are famous for never minding +what they say,' addressing Sissy. 'It's as well known in the town +as - please, sir, as the multiplication table isn't known to the +horse-riders.' Bitzer tried Mr. Bounderby with this. + +'He frightened me so,' said the girl, 'with his cruel faces!' + +'Oh!' cried Bitzer. 'Oh! An't you one of the rest! An't you a +horse-rider! I never looked at her, sir. I asked her if she would +know how to define a horse to-morrow, and offered to tell her +again, and she ran away, and I ran after her, sir, that she might +know how to answer when she was asked. You wouldn't have thought +of saying such mischief if you hadn't been a horse-rider?' + +'Her calling seems to be pretty well known among 'em,' observed Mr. +Bounderby. 'You'd have had the whole school peeping in a row, in a +week.' + +'Truly, I think so,' returned his friend. 'Bitzer, turn you about +and take yourself home. Jupe, stay here a moment. Let me hear of +your running in this manner any more, boy, and you will hear of me +through the master of the school. You understand what I mean. Go +along.' + +The boy stopped in his rapid blinking, knuckled his forehead again, +glanced at Sissy, turned about, and retreated. + +'Now, girl,' said Mr. Gradgrind, 'take this gentleman and me to +your father's; we are going there. What have you got in that +bottle you are carrying?' + +'Gin,' said Mr. Bounderby. + +'Dear, no, sir! It's the nine oils.' + +'The what?' cried Mr. Bounderby. + +'The nine oils, sir, to rub father with.' + +'Then,' said Mr. Bounderby, with a loud short laugh, 'what the +devil do you rub your father with nine oils for?' + +'It's what our people aways use, sir, when they get any hurts in +the ring,' replied the girl, looking over her shoulder, to assure +herself that her pursuer was gone. 'They bruise themselves very +bad sometimes.' + +'Serve 'em right,' said Mr. Bounderby, 'for being idle.' She +glanced up at his face, with mingled astonishment and dread. + +'By George!' said Mr. Bounderby, 'when I was four or five years +younger than you, I had worse bruises upon me than ten oils, twenty +oils, forty oils, would have rubbed off. I didn't get 'em by +posture-making, but by being banged about. There was no rope- +dancing for me; I danced on the bare ground and was larruped with +the rope.' + +Mr. Gradgrind, though hard enough, was by no means so rough a man +as Mr. Bounderby. His character was not unkind, all things +considered; it might have been a very kind one indeed, if he had +only made some round mistake in the arithmetic that balanced it, +years ago. He said, in what he meant for a reassuring tone, as +they turned down a narrow road, 'And this is Pod's End; is it, +Jupe?' + +'This is it, sir, and - if you wouldn't mind, sir - this is the +house.' + +She stopped, at twilight, at the door of a mean little public- +house, with dim red lights in it. As haggard and as shabby, as if, +for want of custom, it had itself taken to drinking, and had gone +the way all drunkards go, and was very near the end of it. + +'It's only crossing the bar, sir, and up the stairs, if you +wouldn't mind, and waiting there for a moment till I get a candle. +If you should hear a dog, sir, it's only Merrylegs, and he only +barks.' + +'Merrylegs and nine oils, eh!' said Mr. Bounderby, entering last +with his metallic laugh. 'Pretty well this, for a self-made man!' + + + +CHAPTER VI - SLEARY'S HORSEMANSHIP + + + +THE name of the public-house was the Pegasus's Arms. The Pegasus's +legs might have been more to the purpose; but, underneath the +winged horse upon the sign-board, the Pegasus's Arms was inscribed +in Roman letters. Beneath that inscription again, in a flowing +scroll, the painter had touched off the lines: + + +Good malt makes good beer, +Walk in, and they'll draw it here; +Good wine makes good brandy, +Give us a call, and you'll find it handy. + + +Framed and glazed upon the wall behind the dingy little bar, was +another Pegasus - a theatrical one - with real gauze let in for his +wings, golden stars stuck on all over him, and his ethereal harness +made of red silk. + +As it had grown too dusky without, to see the sign, and as it had +not grown light enough within to see the picture, Mr. Gradgrind and +Mr. Bounderby received no offence from these idealities. They +followed the girl up some steep corner-stairs without meeting any +one, and stopped in the dark while she went on for a candle. They +expected every moment to hear Merrylegs give tongue, but the highly +trained performing dog had not barked when the girl and the candle +appeared together. + +'Father is not in our room, sir,' she said, with a face of great +surprise. 'If you wouldn't mind walking in, I'll find him +directly.' They walked in; and Sissy, having set two chairs for +them, sped away with a quick light step. It was a mean, shabbily +furnished room, with a bed in it. The white night-cap, embellished +with two peacock's feathers and a pigtail bolt upright, in which +Signor Jupe had that very afternoon enlivened the varied +performances with his chaste Shaksperean quips and retorts, hung +upon a nail; but no other portion of his wardrobe, or other token +of himself or his pursuits, was to be seen anywhere. As to +Merrylegs, that respectable ancestor of the highly trained animal +who went aboard the ark, might have been accidentally shut out of +it, for any sign of a dog that was manifest to eye or ear in the +Pegasus's Arms. + +They heard the doors of rooms above, opening and shutting as Sissy +went from one to another in quest of her father; and presently they +heard voices expressing surprise. She came bounding down again in +a great hurry, opened a battered and mangy old hair trunk, found it +empty, and looked round with her hands clasped and her face full of +terror. + +'Father must have gone down to the Booth, sir. I don't know why he +should go there, but he must be there; I'll bring him in a minute!' +She was gone directly, without her bonnet; with her long, dark, +childish hair streaming behind her. + +'What does she mean!' said Mr. Gradgrind. 'Back in a minute? It's +more than a mile off.' + +Before Mr. Bounderby could reply, a young man appeared at the door, +and introducing himself with the words, 'By your leaves, +gentlemen!' walked in with his hands in his pockets. His face, +close-shaven, thin, and sallow, was shaded by a great quantity of +dark hair, brushed into a roll all round his head, and parted up +the centre. His legs were very robust, but shorter than legs of +good proportions should have been. His chest and back were as much +too broad, as his legs were too short. He was dressed in a +Newmarket coat and tight-fitting trousers; wore a shawl round his +neck; smelt of lamp-oil, straw, orange-peel, horses' provender, and +sawdust; and looked a most remarkable sort of Centaur, compounded +of the stable and the play-house. Where the one began, and the +other ended, nobody could have told with any precision. This +gentleman was mentioned in the bills of the day as Mr. E. W. B. +Childers, so justly celebrated for his daring vaulting act as the +Wild Huntsman of the North American Prairies; in which popular +performance, a diminutive boy with an old face, who now accompanied +him, assisted as his infant son: being carried upside down over +his father's shoulder, by one foot, and held by the crown of his +head, heels upwards, in the palm of his father's hand, according to +the violent paternal manner in which wild huntsmen may be observed +to fondle their offspring. Made up with curls, wreaths, wings, +white bismuth, and carmine, this hopeful young person soared into +so pleasing a Cupid as to constitute the chief delight of the +maternal part of the spectators; but in private, where his +characteristics were a precocious cutaway coat and an extremely +gruff voice, he became of the Turf, turfy. + +'By your leaves, gentlemen,' said Mr. E. W. B. Childers, glancing +round the room. 'It was you, I believe, that were wishing to see +Jupe!' + +'It was,' said Mr. Gradgrind. 'His daughter has gone to fetch him, +but I can't wait; therefore, if you please, I will leave a message +for him with you.' + +'You see, my friend,' Mr. Bounderby put in, 'we are the kind of +people who know the value of time, and you are the kind of people +who don't know the value of time.' + +'I have not,' retorted Mr. Childers, after surveying him from head +to foot, 'the honour of knowing you, - but if you mean that you can +make more money of your time than I can of mine, I should judge +from your appearance, that you are about right.' + +'And when you have made it, you can keep it too, I should think,' +said Cupid. + +'Kidderminster, stow that!' said Mr. Childers. (Master +Kidderminster was Cupid's mortal name.) + +'What does he come here cheeking us for, then?' cried Master +Kidderminster, showing a very irascible temperament. 'If you want +to cheek us, pay your ochre at the doors and take it out.' + +'Kidderminster,' said Mr. Childers, raising his voice, 'stow that! +- Sir,' to Mr. Gradgrind, 'I was addressing myself to you. You may +or you may not be aware (for perhaps you have not been much in the +audience), that Jupe has missed his tip very often, lately.' + +'Has - what has he missed?' asked Mr. Gradgrind, glancing at the +potent Bounderby for assistance. + +'Missed his tip.' + +'Offered at the Garters four times last night, and never done 'em +once,' said Master Kidderminster. 'Missed his tip at the banners, +too, and was loose in his ponging.' + +'Didn't do what he ought to do. Was short in his leaps and bad in +his tumbling,' Mr. Childers interpreted. + +'Oh!' said Mr. Gradgrind, 'that is tip, is it?' + +'In a general way that's missing his tip,' Mr. E. W. B. Childers +answered. + +'Nine oils, Merrylegs, missing tips, garters, banners, and Ponging, +eh!' ejaculated Bounderby, with his laugh of laughs. 'Queer sort +of company, too, for a man who has raised himself!' + +'Lower yourself, then,' retorted Cupid. 'Oh Lord! if you've raised +yourself so high as all that comes to, let yourself down a bit.' + +'This is a very obtrusive lad!' said Mr. Gradgrind, turning, and +knitting his brows on him. + +'We'd have had a young gentleman to meet you, if we had known you +were coming,' retorted Master Kidderminster, nothing abashed. +'It's a pity you don't have a bespeak, being so particular. You're +on the Tight-Jeff, ain't you?' + +'What does this unmannerly boy mean,' asked Mr. Gradgrind, eyeing +him in a sort of desperation, 'by Tight-Jeff?' + +'There! Get out, get out!' said Mr. Childers, thrusting his young +friend from the room, rather in the prairie manner. 'Tight-Jeff or +Slack-Jeff, it don't much signify: it's only tight-rope and slack- +rope. You were going to give me a message for Jupe?' + +'Yes, I was.' + +'Then,' continued Mr. Childers, quickly, 'my opinion is, he will +never receive it. Do you know much of him?' + +'I never saw the man in my life.' + +'I doubt if you ever will see him now. It's pretty plain to me, +he's off.' + +'Do you mean that he has deserted his daughter?' + +'Ay! I mean,' said Mr. Childers, with a nod, 'that he has cut. He +was goosed last night, he was goosed the night before last, he was +goosed to-day. He has lately got in the way of being always +goosed, and he can't stand it.' + +'Why has he been - so very much - Goosed?' asked Mr. Gradgrind, +forcing the word out of himself, with great solemnity and +reluctance. + +'His joints are turning stiff, and he is getting used up,' said +Childers. 'He has his points as a Cackler still, but he can't get +a living out of them.' + +'A Cackler!' Bounderby repeated. 'Here we go again!' + +'A speaker, if the gentleman likes it better,' said Mr. E. W. B. +Childers, superciliously throwing the interpretation over his +shoulder, and accompanying it with a shake of his long hair - which +all shook at once. 'Now, it's a remarkable fact, sir, that it cut +that man deeper, to know that his daughter knew of his being +goosed, than to go through with it.' + +'Good!' interrupted Mr. Bounderby. 'This is good, Gradgrind! A +man so fond of his daughter, that he runs away from her! This is +devilish good! Ha! ha! Now, I'll tell you what, young man. I +haven't always occupied my present station of life. I know what +these things are. You may be astonished to hear it, but my mother +- ran away from me.' + +E. W. B. Childers replied pointedly, that he was not at all +astonished to hear it. + +'Very well,' said Bounderby. 'I was born in a ditch, and my mother +ran away from me. Do I excuse her for it? No. Have I ever +excused her for it? Not I. What do I call her for it? I call her +probably the very worst woman that ever lived in the world, except +my drunken grandmother. There's no family pride about me, there's +no imaginative sentimental humbug about me. I call a spade a +spade; and I call the mother of Josiah Bounderby of Coketown, +without any fear or any favour, what I should call her if she had +been the mother of Dick Jones of Wapping. So, with this man. He +is a runaway rogue and a vagabond, that's what he is, in English.' + +'It's all the same to me what he is or what he is not, whether in +English or whether in French,' retorted Mr. E. W. B. Childers, +facing about. 'I am telling your friend what's the fact; if you +don't like to hear it, you can avail yourself of the open air. You +give it mouth enough, you do; but give it mouth in your own +building at least,' remonstrated E. W. B. with stern irony. 'Don't +give it mouth in this building, till you're called upon. You have +got some building of your own I dare say, now?' + +'Perhaps so,' replied Mr. Bounderby, rattling his money and +laughing. + +'Then give it mouth in your own building, will you, if you please?' +said Childers. 'Because this isn't a strong building, and too much +of you might bring it down!' + +Eyeing Mr. Bounderby from head to foot again, he turned from him, +as from a man finally disposed of, to Mr. Gradgrind. + +'Jupe sent his daughter out on an errand not an hour ago, and then +was seen to slip out himself, with his hat over his eyes, and a +bundle tied up in a handkerchief under his arm. She will never +believe it of him, but he has cut away and left her.' + +'Pray,' said Mr. Gradgrind, 'why will she never believe it of him?' + +'Because those two were one. Because they were never asunder. +Because, up to this time, he seemed to dote upon her,' said +Childers, taking a step or two to look into the empty trunk. Both +Mr. Childers and Master Kidderminster walked in a curious manner; +with their legs wider apart than the general run of men, and with a +very knowing assumption of being stiff in the knees. This walk was +common to all the male members of Sleary's company, and was +understood to express, that they were always on horseback. + +'Poor Sissy! He had better have apprenticed her,' said Childers, +giving his hair another shake, as he looked up from the empty box. +'Now, he leaves her without anything to take to.' + +'It is creditable to you, who have never been apprenticed, to +express that opinion,' returned Mr. Gradgrind, approvingly. + +'I never apprenticed? I was apprenticed when I was seven year +old.' + +'Oh! Indeed?' said Mr. Gradgrind, rather resentfully, as having +been defrauded of his good opinion. 'I was not aware of its being +the custom to apprentice young persons to - ' + +'Idleness,' Mr. Bounderby put in with a loud laugh. 'No, by the +Lord Harry! Nor I!' + +'Her father always had it in his head,' resumed Childers, feigning +unconsciousness of Mr. Bounderby's existence, 'that she was to be +taught the deuce-and-all of education. How it got into his head, I +can't say; I can only say that it never got out. He has been +picking up a bit of reading for her, here - and a bit of writing +for her, there - and a bit of ciphering for her, somewhere else - +these seven years.' + +Mr. E. W. B. Childers took one of his hands out of his pockets, +stroked his face and chin, and looked, with a good deal of doubt +and a little hope, at Mr. Gradgrind. From the first he had sought +to conciliate that gentleman, for the sake of the deserted girl. + +'When Sissy got into the school here,' he pursued, 'her father was +as pleased as Punch. I couldn't altogether make out why, myself, +as we were not stationary here, being but comers and goers +anywhere. I suppose, however, he had this move in his mind - he +was always half-cracked - and then considered her provided for. If +you should happen to have looked in to-night, for the purpose of +telling him that you were going to do her any little service,' said +Mr. Childers, stroking his face again, and repeating his look, 'it +would be very fortunate and well-timed; very fortunate and well- +timed.' + +'On the contrary,' returned Mr. Gradgrind. 'I came to tell him +that her connections made her not an object for the school, and +that she must not attend any more. Still, if her father really has +left her, without any connivance on her part - Bounderby, let me +have a word with you.' + +Upon this, Mr. Childers politely betook himself, with his +equestrian walk, to the landing outside the door, and there stood +stroking his face, and softly whistling. While thus engaged, he +overheard such phrases in Mr. Bounderby's voice as 'No. I say no. +I advise you not. I say by no means.' While, from Mr. Gradgrind, +he heard in his much lower tone the words, 'But even as an example +to Louisa, of what this pursuit which has been the subject of a +vulgar curiosity, leads to and ends in. Think of it, Bounderby, in +that point of view.' + +Meanwhile, the various members of Sleary's company gradually +gathered together from the upper regions, where they were +quartered, and, from standing about, talking in low voices to one +another and to Mr. Childers, gradually insinuated themselves and +him into the room. There were two or three handsome young women +among them, with their two or three husbands, and their two or +three mothers, and their eight or nine little children, who did the +fairy business when required. The father of one of the families +was in the habit of balancing the father of another of the families +on the top of a great pole; the father of a third family often made +a pyramid of both those fathers, with Master Kidderminster for the +apex, and himself for the base; all the fathers could dance upon +rolling casks, stand upon bottles, catch knives and balls, twirl +hand-basins, ride upon anything, jump over everything, and stick at +nothing. All the mothers could (and did) dance, upon the slack +wire and the tight-rope, and perform rapid acts on bare-backed +steeds; none of them were at all particular in respect of showing +their legs; and one of them, alone in a Greek chariot, drove six in +hand into every town they came to. They all assumed to be mighty +rakish and knowing, they were not very tidy in their private +dresses, they were not at all orderly in their domestic +arrangements, and the combined literature of the whole company +would have produced but a poor letter on any subject. Yet there +was a remarkable gentleness and childishness about these people, a +special inaptitude for any kind of sharp practice, and an untiring +readiness to help and pity one another, deserving often of as much +respect, and always of as much generous construction, as the every- +day virtues of any class of people in the world. + +Last of all appeared Mr. Sleary: a stout man as already mentioned, +with one fixed eye, and one loose eye, a voice (if it can be called +so) like the efforts of a broken old pair of bellows, a flabby +surface, and a muddled head which was never sober and never drunk. + +'Thquire!' said Mr. Sleary, who was troubled with asthma, and whose +breath came far too thick and heavy for the letter s, 'Your +thervant! Thith ith a bad piethe of bithnith, thith ith. You've +heard of my Clown and hith dog being thuppothed to have morrithed?' + +He addressed Mr. Gradgrind, who answered 'Yes.' + +'Well, Thquire,' he returned, taking off his hat, and rubbing the +lining with his pocket-handkerchief, which he kept inside for the +purpose. 'Ith it your intenthion to do anything for the poor girl, +Thquire?' + +'I shall have something to propose to her when she comes back,' +said Mr. Gradgrind. + +'Glad to hear it, Thquire. Not that I want to get rid of the +child, any more than I want to thtand in her way. I'm willing to +take her prentith, though at her age ith late. My voithe ith a +little huthky, Thquire, and not eathy heard by them ath don't know +me; but if you'd been chilled and heated, heated and chilled, +chilled and heated in the ring when you wath young, ath often ath I +have been, your voithe wouldn't have lathted out, Thquire, no more +than mine.' + +'I dare say not,' said Mr. Gradgrind. + +'What thall it be, Thquire, while you wait? Thall it be Therry? +Give it a name, Thquire!' said Mr. Sleary, with hospitable ease. + +'Nothing for me, I thank you,' said Mr. Gradgrind. + +'Don't thay nothing, Thquire. What doth your friend thay? If you +haven't took your feed yet, have a glath of bitterth.' + +Here his daughter Josephine - a pretty fair-haired girl of +eighteen, who had been tied on a horse at two years old, and had +made a will at twelve, which she always carried about with her, +expressive of her dying desire to be drawn to the grave by the two +piebald ponies - cried, 'Father, hush! she has come back!' Then +came Sissy Jupe, running into the room as she had run out of it. +And when she saw them all assembled, and saw their looks, and saw +no father there, she broke into a most deplorable cry, and took +refuge on the bosom of the most accomplished tight-rope lady +(herself in the family-way), who knelt down on the floor to nurse +her, and to weep over her. + +'Ith an internal thame, upon my thoul it ith,' said Sleary. + +'O my dear father, my good kind father, where are you gone? You +are gone to try to do me some good, I know! You are gone away for +my sake, I am sure! And how miserable and helpless you will be +without me, poor, poor father, until you come back!' It was so +pathetic to hear her saying many things of this kind, with her face +turned upward, and her arms stretched out as if she were trying to +stop his departing shadow and embrace it, that no one spoke a word +until Mr. Bounderby (growing impatient) took the case in hand. + +'Now, good people all,' said he, 'this is wanton waste of time. +Let the girl understand the fact. Let her take it from me, if you +like, who have been run away from, myself. Here, what's your name! +Your father has absconded - deserted you - and you mustn't expect +to see him again as long as you live.' + +They cared so little for plain Fact, these people, and were in that +advanced state of degeneracy on the subject, that instead of being +impressed by the speaker's strong common sense, they took it in +extraordinary dudgeon. The men muttered 'Shame!' and the women +'Brute!' and Sleary, in some haste, communicated the following +hint, apart to Mr. Bounderby. + +'I tell you what, Thquire. To thpeak plain to you, my opinion ith +that you had better cut it thort, and drop it. They're a very good +natur'd people, my people, but they're accuthtomed to be quick in +their movementh; and if you don't act upon my advithe, I'm damned +if I don't believe they'll pith you out o' winder.' + +Mr. Bounderby being restrained by this mild suggestion, Mr. +Gradgrind found an opening for his eminently practical exposition +of the subject. + +'It is of no moment,' said he, 'whether this person is to be +expected back at any time, or the contrary. He is gone away, and +there is no present expectation of his return. That, I believe, is +agreed on all hands.' + +'Thath agreed, Thquire. Thick to that!' From Sleary. + +'Well then. I, who came here to inform the father of the poor +girl, Jupe, that she could not be received at the school any more, +in consequence of there being practical objections, into which I +need not enter, to the reception there of the children of persons +so employed, am prepared in these altered circumstances to make a +proposal. I am willing to take charge of you, Jupe, and to educate +you, and provide for you. The only condition (over and above your +good behaviour) I make is, that you decide now, at once, whether to +accompany me or remain here. Also, that if you accompany me now, +it is understood that you communicate no more with any of your +friends who are here present. These observations comprise the +whole of the case.' + +'At the thame time,' said Sleary, 'I mutht put in my word, Thquire, +tho that both thides of the banner may be equally theen. If you +like, Thethilia, to be prentitht, you know the natur of the work +and you know your companionth. Emma Gordon, in whothe lap you're a +lying at prethent, would be a mother to you, and Joth'phine would +be a thithter to you. I don't pretend to be of the angel breed +myself, and I don't thay but what, when you mith'd your tip, you'd +find me cut up rough, and thwear an oath or two at you. But what I +thay, Thquire, ith, that good tempered or bad tempered, I never did +a horthe a injury yet, no more than thwearing at him went, and that +I don't expect I thall begin otherwithe at my time of life, with a +rider. I never wath much of a Cackler, Thquire, and I have thed my +thay.' + +The latter part of this speech was addressed to Mr. Gradgrind, who +received it with a grave inclination of his head, and then +remarked: + +'The only observation I will make to you, Jupe, in the way of +influencing your decision, is, that it is highly desirable to have +a sound practical education, and that even your father himself +(from what I understand) appears, on your behalf, to have known and +felt that much.' + +The last words had a visible effect upon her. She stopped in her +wild crying, a little detached herself from Emma Gordon, and turned +her face full upon her patron. The whole company perceived the +force of the change, and drew a long breath together, that plainly +said, 'she will go!' + +'Be sure you know your own mind, Jupe,' Mr. Gradgrind cautioned +her; 'I say no more. Be sure you know your own mind!' + +'When father comes back,' cried the girl, bursting into tears again +after a minute's silence, 'how will he ever find me if I go away!' + +'You may be quite at ease,' said Mr. Gradgrind, calmly; he worked +out the whole matter like a sum: 'you may be quite at ease, Jupe, +on that score. In such a case, your father, I apprehend, must find +out Mr. - ' + +'Thleary. Thath my name, Thquire. Not athamed of it. Known all +over England, and alwayth paythe ith way.' + +'Must find out Mr. Sleary, who would then let him know where you +went. I should have no power of keeping you against his wish, and +he would have no difficulty, at any time, in finding Mr. Thomas +Gradgrind of Coketown. I am well known.' + +'Well known,' assented Mr. Sleary, rolling his loose eye. 'You're +one of the thort, Thquire, that keepth a prethiouth thight of money +out of the houthe. But never mind that at prethent.' + +There was another silence; and then she exclaimed, sobbing with her +hands before her face, 'Oh, give me my clothes, give me my clothes, +and let me go away before I break my heart!' + +The women sadly bestirred themselves to get the clothes together - +it was soon done, for they were not many - and to pack them in a +basket which had often travelled with them. Sissy sat all the time +upon the ground, still sobbing, and covering her eyes. Mr. +Gradgrind and his friend Bounderby stood near the door, ready to +take her away. Mr. Sleary stood in the middle of the room, with +the male members of the company about him, exactly as he would have +stood in the centre of the ring during his daughter Josephine's +performance. He wanted nothing but his whip. + +The basket packed in silence, they brought her bonnet to her, and +smoothed her disordered hair, and put it on. Then they pressed +about her, and bent over her in very natural attitudes, kissing and +embracing her: and brought the children to take leave of her; and +were a tender-hearted, simple, foolish set of women altogether. + +'Now, Jupe,' said Mr. Gradgrind. 'If you are quite determined, +come!' + +But she had to take her farewell of the male part of the company +yet, and every one of them had to unfold his arms (for they all +assumed the professional attitude when they found themselves near +Sleary), and give her a parting kiss - Master Kidderminster +excepted, in whose young nature there was an original flavour of +the misanthrope, who was also known to have harboured matrimonial +views, and who moodily withdrew. Mr. Sleary was reserved until the +last. Opening his arms wide he took her by both her hands, and +would have sprung her up and down, after the riding-master manner +of congratulating young ladies on their dismounting from a rapid +act; but there was no rebound in Sissy, and she only stood before +him crying. + +'Good-bye, my dear!' said Sleary. 'You'll make your fortun, I +hope, and none of our poor folkth will ever trouble you, I'll pound +it. I with your father hadn't taken hith dog with him; ith a ill- +conwenienth to have the dog out of the billth. But on thecond +thoughth, he wouldn't have performed without hith mathter, tho ith +ath broad ath ith long!' + +With that he regarded her attentively with his fixed eye, surveyed +his company with his loose one, kissed her, shook his head, and +handed her to Mr. Gradgrind as to a horse. + +'There the ith, Thquire,' he said, sweeping her with a professional +glance as if she were being adjusted in her seat, 'and the'll do +you juthtithe. Good-bye, Thethilia!' + +'Good-bye, Cecilia!' 'Good-bye, Sissy!' 'God bless you, dear!' +In a variety of voices from all the room. + +But the riding-master eye had observed the bottle of the nine oils +in her bosom, and he now interposed with 'Leave the bottle, my +dear; ith large to carry; it will be of no uthe to you now. Give +it to me!' + +'No, no!' she said, in another burst of tears. 'Oh, no! Pray let +me keep it for father till he comes back! He will want it when he +comes back. He had never thought of going away, when he sent me +for it. I must keep it for him, if you please!' + +'Tho be it, my dear. (You thee how it ith, Thquire!) Farewell, +Thethilia! My latht wordth to you ith thith, Thtick to the termth +of your engagement, be obedient to the Thquire, and forget uth. +But if, when you're grown up and married and well off, you come +upon any horthe-riding ever, don't be hard upon it, don't be croth +with it, give it a Bethpeak if you can, and think you might do +wurth. People mutht be amuthed, Thquire, thomehow,' continued +Sleary, rendered more pursy than ever, by so much talking; 'they +can't be alwayth a working, nor yet they can't be alwayth a +learning. Make the betht of uth; not the wurtht. I've got my +living out of the horthe-riding all my life, I know; but I +conthider that I lay down the philothophy of the thubject when I +thay to you, Thquire, make the betht of uth: not the wurtht!' + +The Sleary philosophy was propounded as they went downstairs and +the fixed eye of Philosophy - and its rolling eye, too - soon lost +the three figures and the basket in the darkness of the street. + + + +CHAPTER VII - MRS. SPARSIT + + + +MR. BOUNDERBY being a bachelor, an elderly lady presided over his +establishment, in consideration of a certain annual stipend. Mrs. +Sparsit was this lady's name; and she was a prominent figure in +attendance on Mr. Bounderby's car, as it rolled along in triumph +with the Bully of humility inside. + +For, Mrs. Sparsit had not only seen different days, but was highly +connected. She had a great aunt living in these very times called +Lady Scadgers. Mr. Sparsit, deceased, of whom she was the relict, +had been by the mother's side what Mrs. Sparsit still called 'a +Powler.' Strangers of limited information and dull apprehension +were sometimes observed not to know what a Powler was, and even to +appear uncertain whether it might be a business, or a political +party, or a profession of faith. The better class of minds, +however, did not need to be informed that the Powlers were an +ancient stock, who could trace themselves so exceedingly far back +that it was not surprising if they sometimes lost themselves - +which they had rather frequently done, as respected horse-flesh, +blind-hookey, Hebrew monetary transactions, and the Insolvent +Debtors' Court. + +The late Mr. Sparsit, being by the mother's side a Powler, married +this lady, being by the father's side a Scadgers. Lady Scadgers +(an immensely fat old woman, with an inordinate appetite for +butcher's meat, and a mysterious leg which had now refused to get +out of bed for fourteen years) contrived the marriage, at a period +when Sparsit was just of age, and chiefly noticeable for a slender +body, weakly supported on two long slim props, and surmounted by no +head worth mentioning. He inherited a fair fortune from his uncle, +but owed it all before he came into it, and spent it twice over +immediately afterwards. Thus, when he died, at twenty-four (the +scene of his decease, Calais, and the cause, brandy), he did not +leave his widow, from whom he had been separated soon after the +honeymoon, in affluent circumstances. That bereaved lady, fifteen +years older than he, fell presently at deadly feud with her only +relative, Lady Scadgers; and, partly to spite her ladyship, and +partly to maintain herself, went out at a salary. And here she was +now, in her elderly days, with the Coriolanian style of nose and +the dense black eyebrows which had captivated Sparsit, making Mr. +Bounderby's tea as he took his breakfast. + +If Bounderby had been a Conqueror, and Mrs. Sparsit a captive +Princess whom he took about as a feature in his state-processions, +he could not have made a greater flourish with her than he +habitually did. Just as it belonged to his boastfulness to +depreciate his own extraction, so it belonged to it to exalt Mrs. +Sparsit's. In the measure that he would not allow his own youth to +have been attended by a single favourable circumstance, he +brightened Mrs. Sparsit's juvenile career with every possible +advantage, and showered waggon-loads of early roses all over that +lady's path. 'And yet, sir,' he would say, 'how does it turn out +after all? Why here she is at a hundred a year (I give her a +hundred, which she is pleased to term handsome), keeping the house +of Josiah Bounderby of Coketown!' + +Nay, he made this foil of his so very widely known, that third +parties took it up, and handled it on some occasions with +considerable briskness. It was one of the most exasperating +attributes of Bounderby, that he not only sang his own praises but +stimulated other men to sing them. There was a moral infection of +clap-trap in him. Strangers, modest enough elsewhere, started up +at dinners in Coketown, and boasted, in quite a rampant way, of +Bounderby. They made him out to be the Royal arms, the Union-Jack, +Magna Charta, John Bull, Habeas Corpus, the Bill of Rights, An +Englishman's house is his castle, Church and State, and God save +the Queen, all put together. And as often (and it was very often) +as an orator of this kind brought into his peroration, + + +'Princes and lords may flourish or may fade, +A breath can make them, as a breath has made,' + + +- it was, for certain, more or less understood among the company +that he had heard of Mrs. Sparsit. + +'Mr. Bounderby,' said Mrs. Sparsit, 'you are unusually slow, sir, +with your breakfast this morning.' + +'Why, ma'am,' he returned, 'I am thinking about Tom Gradgrind's +whim;' Tom Gradgrind, for a bluff independent manner of speaking - +as if somebody were always endeavouring to bribe him with immense +sums to say Thomas, and he wouldn't; 'Tom Gradgrind's whim, ma'am, +of bringing up the tumbling-girl.' + +'The girl is now waiting to know,' said Mrs. Sparsit, 'whether she +is to go straight to the school, or up to the Lodge.' + +'She must wait, ma'am,' answered Bounderby, 'till I know myself. +We shall have Tom Gradgrind down here presently, I suppose. If he +should wish her to remain here a day or two longer, of course she +can, ma'am.' + +'Of course she can if you wish it, Mr. Bounderby.' + +'I told him I would give her a shake-down here, last night, in +order that he might sleep on it before he decided to let her have +any association with Louisa.' + +'Indeed, Mr. Bounderby? Very thoughtful of you!' Mrs. Sparsit's +Coriolanian nose underwent a slight expansion of the nostrils, and +her black eyebrows contracted as she took a sip of tea. + +'It's tolerably clear to me,' said Bounderby, 'that the little puss +can get small good out of such companionship.' + +'Are you speaking of young Miss Gradgrind, Mr. Bounderby?' + +'Yes, ma'am, I'm speaking of Louisa.' + +'Your observation being limited to "little puss,"' said Mrs. +Sparsit, 'and there being two little girls in question, I did not +know which might be indicated by that expression.' + +'Louisa,' repeated Mr. Bounderby. 'Louisa, Louisa.' + +'You are quite another father to Louisa, sir.' Mrs. Sparsit took a +little more tea; and, as she bent her again contracted eyebrows +over her steaming cup, rather looked as if her classical +countenance were invoking the infernal gods. + +'If you had said I was another father to Tom - young Tom, I mean, +not my friend Tom Gradgrind - you might have been nearer the mark. +I am going to take young Tom into my office. Going to have him +under my wing, ma'am.' + +'Indeed? Rather young for that, is he not, sir?' Mrs. Spirit's +'sir,' in addressing Mr. Bounderby, was a word of ceremony, rather +exacting consideration for herself in the use, than honouring him. + +'I'm not going to take him at once; he is to finish his educational +cramming before then,' said Bounderby. 'By the Lord Harry, he'll +have enough of it, first and last! He'd open his eyes, that boy +would, if he knew how empty of learning my young maw was, at his +time of life.' Which, by the by, he probably did know, for he had +heard of it often enough. 'But it's extraordinary the difficulty I +have on scores of such subjects, in speaking to any one on equal +terms. Here, for example, I have been speaking to you this morning +about tumblers. Why, what do you know about tumblers? At the time +when, to have been a tumbler in the mud of the streets, would have +been a godsend to me, a prize in the lottery to me, you were at the +Italian Opera. You were coming out of the Italian Opera, ma'am, in +white satin and jewels, a blaze of splendour, when I hadn't a penny +to buy a link to light you.' + +'I certainly, sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit, with a dignity serenely +mournful, 'was familiar with the Italian Opera at a very early +age.' + +'Egad, ma'am, so was I,' said Bounderby, ' - with the wrong side of +it. A hard bed the pavement of its Arcade used to make, I assure +you. People like you, ma'am, accustomed from infancy to lie on +Down feathers, have no idea how hard a paving-stone is, without +trying it. No, no, it's of no use my talking to you about +tumblers. I should speak of foreign dancers, and the West End of +London, and May Fair, and lords and ladies and honourables.' + +'I trust, sir,' rejoined Mrs. Sparsit, with decent resignation, 'it +is not necessary that you should do anything of that kind. I hope +I have learnt how to accommodate myself to the changes of life. If +I have acquired an interest in hearing of your instructive +experiences, and can scarcely hear enough of them, I claim no merit +for that, since I believe it is a general sentiment.' + +'Well, ma'am,' said her patron, 'perhaps some people may be pleased +to say that they do like to hear, in his own unpolished way, what +Josiah Bounderby, of Coketown, has gone through. But you must +confess that you were born in the lap of luxury, yourself. Come, +ma'am, you know you were born in the lap of luxury.' + +'I do not, sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit with a shake of her head, +'deny it.' + +Mr. Bounderby was obliged to get up from table, and stand with his +back to the fire, looking at her; she was such an enhancement of +his position. + +'And you were in crack society. Devilish high society,' he said, +warming his legs. + +'It is true, sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit, with an affectation of +humility the very opposite of his, and therefore in no danger of +jostling it. + +'You were in the tiptop fashion, and all the rest of it,' said Mr. +Bounderby. + +'Yes, sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit, with a kind of social widowhood +upon her. 'It is unquestionably true.' + +Mr. Bounderby, bending himself at the knees, literally embraced his +legs in his great satisfaction and laughed aloud. Mr. and Miss +Gradgrind being then announced, he received the former with a shake +of the hand, and the latter with a kiss. + +'Can Jupe be sent here, Bounderby?' asked Mr. Gradgrind. + +Certainly. So Jupe was sent there. On coming in, she curtseyed to +Mr. Bounderby, and to his friend Tom Gradgrind, and also to Louisa; +but in her confusion unluckily omitted Mrs. Sparsit. Observing +this, the blustrous Bounderby had the following remarks to make: + +'Now, I tell you what, my girl. The name of that lady by the +teapot, is Mrs. Sparsit. That lady acts as mistress of this house, +and she is a highly connected lady. Consequently, if ever you come +again into any room in this house, you will make a short stay in it +if you don't behave towards that lady in your most respectful +manner. Now, I don't care a button what you do to me, because I +don't affect to be anybody. So far from having high connections I +have no connections at all, and I come of the scum of the earth. +But towards that lady, I do care what you do; and you shall do what +is deferential and respectful, or you shall not come here.' + +'I hope, Bounderby,' said Mr. Gradgrind, in a conciliatory voice, +'that this was merely an oversight.' + +'My friend Tom Gradgrind suggests, Mrs. Sparsit,' said Bounderby, +'that this was merely an oversight. Very likely. However, as you +are aware, ma'am, I don't allow of even oversights towards you.' + +'You are very good indeed, sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit, shaking her +head with her State humility. 'It is not worth speaking of.' + +Sissy, who all this time had been faintly excusing herself with +tears in her eyes, was now waved over by the master of the house to +Mr. Gradgrind. She stood looking intently at him, and Louisa stood +coldly by, with her eyes upon the ground, while he proceeded thus: + +'Jupe, I have made up my mind to take you into my house; and, when +you are not in attendance at the school, to employ you about Mrs. +Gradgrind, who is rather an invalid. I have explained to Miss +Louisa - this is Miss Louisa - the miserable but natural end of +your late career; and you are to expressly understand that the +whole of that subject is past, and is not to be referred to any +more. From this time you begin your history. You are, at present, +ignorant, I know.' + +'Yes, sir, very,' she answered, curtseying. + +'I shall have the satisfaction of causing you to be strictly +educated; and you will be a living proof to all who come into +communication with you, of the advantages of the training you will +receive. You will be reclaimed and formed. You have been in the +habit now of reading to your father, and those people I found you +among, I dare say?' said Mr. Gradgrind, beckoning her nearer to him +before he said so, and dropping his voice. + +'Only to father and Merrylegs, sir. At least I mean to father, +when Merrylegs was always there.' + +'Never mind Merrylegs, Jupe,' said Mr. Gradgrind, with a passing +frown. 'I don't ask about him. I understand you to have been in +the habit of reading to your father?' + +'O, yes, sir, thousands of times. They were the happiest - O, of +all the happy times we had together, sir!' + +It was only now when her sorrow broke out, that Louisa looked at +her. + +'And what,' asked Mr. Gradgrind, in a still lower voice, 'did you +read to your father, Jupe?' + +'About the Fairies, sir, and the Dwarf, and the Hunchback, and the +Genies,' she sobbed out; 'and about - ' + +'Hush!' said Mr. Gradgrind, 'that is enough. Never breathe a word +of such destructive nonsense any more. Bounderby, this is a case +for rigid training, and I shall observe it with interest.' + +'Well,' returned Mr. Bounderby, 'I have given you my opinion +already, and I shouldn't do as you do. But, very well, very well. +Since you are bent upon it, very well!' + +So, Mr. Gradgrind and his daughter took Cecilia Jupe off with them +to Stone Lodge, and on the way Louisa never spoke one word, good or +bad. And Mr. Bounderby went about his daily pursuits. And Mrs. +Sparsit got behind her eyebrows and meditated in the gloom of that +retreat, all the evening. + + + +CHAPTER VIII - NEVER WONDER + + + +LET us strike the key-note again, before pursuing the tune. + +When she was half a dozen years younger, Louisa had been overheard +to begin a conversation with her brother one day, by saying 'Tom, I +wonder' - upon which Mr. Gradgrind, who was the person overhearing, +stepped forth into the light and said, 'Louisa, never wonder!' + +Herein lay the spring of the mechanical art and mystery of +educating the reason without stooping to the cultivation of the +sentiments and affections. Never wonder. By means of addition, +subtraction, multiplication, and division, settle everything +somehow, and never wonder. Bring to me, says M'Choakumchild, +yonder baby just able to walk, and I will engage that it shall +never wonder. + +Now, besides very many babies just able to walk, there happened to +be in Coketown a considerable population of babies who had been +walking against time towards the infinite world, twenty, thirty, +forty, fifty years and more. These portentous infants being +alarming creatures to stalk about in any human society, the +eighteen denominations incessantly scratched one another's faces +and pulled one another's hair by way of agreeing on the steps to be +taken for their improvement - which they never did; a surprising +circumstance, when the happy adaptation of the means to the end is +considered. Still, although they differed in every other +particular, conceivable and inconceivable (especially +inconceivable), they were pretty well united on the point that +these unlucky infants were never to wonder. Body number one, said +they must take everything on trust. Body number two, said they +must take everything on political economy. Body number three, +wrote leaden little books for them, showing how the good grown-up +baby invariably got to the Savings-bank, and the bad grown-up baby +invariably got transported. Body number four, under dreary +pretences of being droll (when it was very melancholy indeed), made +the shallowest pretences of concealing pitfalls of knowledge, into +which it was the duty of these babies to be smuggled and inveigled. +But, all the bodies agreed that they were never to wonder. + +There was a library in Coketown, to which general access was easy. +Mr. Gradgrind greatly tormented his mind about what the people read +in this library: a point whereon little rivers of tabular +statements periodically flowed into the howling ocean of tabular +statements, which no diver ever got to any depth in and came up +sane. It was a disheartening circumstance, but a melancholy fact, +that even these readers persisted in wondering. They wondered +about human nature, human passions, human hopes and fears, the +struggles, triumphs and defeats, the cares and joys and sorrows, +the lives and deaths of common men and women! They sometimes, +after fifteen hours' work, sat down to read mere fables about men +and women, more or less like themselves, and about children, more +or less like their own. They took De Foe to their bosoms, instead +of Euclid, and seemed to be on the whole more comforted by +Goldsmith than by Cocker. Mr. Gradgrind was for ever working, in +print and out of print, at this eccentric sum, and he never could +make out how it yielded this unaccountable product. + +'I am sick of my life, Loo. I, hate it altogether, and I hate +everybody except you,' said the unnatural young Thomas Gradgrind in +the hair-cutting chamber at twilight. + +'You don't hate Sissy, Tom?' + +'I hate to be obliged to call her Jupe. And she hates me,' said +Tom, moodily. + +'No, she does not, Tom, I am sure!' + +'She must,' said Tom. 'She must just hate and detest the whole +set-out of us. They'll bother her head off, I think, before they +have done with her. Already she's getting as pale as wax, and as +heavy as - I am.' + +Young Thomas expressed these sentiments sitting astride of a chair +before the fire, with his arms on the back, and his sulky face on +his arms. His sister sat in the darker corner by the fireside, now +looking at him, now looking at the bright sparks as they dropped +upon the hearth. + +'As to me,' said Tom, tumbling his hair all manner of ways with his +sulky hands, 'I am a Donkey, that's what I am. I am as obstinate +as one, I am more stupid than one, I get as much pleasure as one, +and I should like to kick like one.' + +'Not me, I hope, Tom?' + +'No, Loo; I wouldn't hurt you. I made an exception of you at +first. I don't know what this - jolly old - Jaundiced Jail,' Tom +had paused to find a sufficiently complimentary and expressive name +for the parental roof, and seemed to relieve his mind for a moment +by the strong alliteration of this one, 'would be without you.' + +'Indeed, Tom? Do you really and truly say so?' + +'Why, of course I do. What's the use of talking about it!' +returned Tom, chafing his face on his coat-sleeve, as if to mortify +his flesh, and have it in unison with his spirit. + +'Because, Tom,' said his sister, after silently watching the sparks +awhile, 'as I get older, and nearer growing up, I often sit +wondering here, and think how unfortunate it is for me that I can't +reconcile you to home better than I am able to do. I don't know +what other girls know. I can't play to you, or sing to you. I +can't talk to you so as to lighten your mind, for I never see any +amusing sights or read any amusing books that it would be a +pleasure or a relief to you to talk about, when you are tired.' + +'Well, no more do I. I am as bad as you in that respect; and I am +a Mule too, which you're not. If father was determined to make me +either a Prig or a Mule, and I am not a Prig, why, it stands to +reason, I must be a Mule. And so I am,' said Tom, desperately. + +'It's a great pity,' said Louisa, after another pause, and speaking +thoughtfully out of her dark corner: 'it's a great pity, Tom. +It's very unfortunate for both of us.' + +'Oh! You,' said Tom; 'you are a girl, Loo, and a girl comes out of +it better than a boy does. I don't miss anything in you. You are +the only pleasure I have - you can brighten even this place - and +you can always lead me as you like.' + +'You are a dear brother, Tom; and while you think I can do such +things, I don't so much mind knowing better. Though I do know +better, Tom, and am very sorry for it.' She came and kissed him, +and went back into her corner again. + +'I wish I could collect all the Facts we hear so much about,' said +Tom, spitefully setting his teeth, 'and all the Figures, and all +the people who found them out: and I wish I could put a thousand +barrels of gunpowder under them, and blow them all up together! +However, when I go to live with old Bounderby, I'll have my +revenge.' + +'Your revenge, Tom?' + +'I mean, I'll enjoy myself a little, and go about and see +something, and hear something. I'll recompense myself for the way +in which I have been brought up.' + +'But don't disappoint yourself beforehand, Tom. Mr. Bounderby +thinks as father thinks, and is a great deal rougher, and not half +so kind.' + +'Oh!' said Tom, laughing; 'I don't mind that. I shall very well +know how to manage and smooth old Bounderby!' + +Their shadows were defined upon the wall, but those of the high +presses in the room were all blended together on the wall and on +the ceiling, as if the brother and sister were overhung by a dark +cavern. Or, a fanciful imagination - if such treason could have +been there - might have made it out to be the shadow of their +subject, and of its lowering association with their future. + +'What is your great mode of smoothing and managing, Tom? Is it a +secret?' + +'Oh!' said Tom, 'if it is a secret, it's not far off. It's you. +You are his little pet, you are his favourite; he'll do anything +for you. When he says to me what I don't like, I shall say to him, +"My sister Loo will be hurt and disappointed, Mr. Bounderby. She +always used to tell me she was sure you would be easier with me +than this." That'll bring him about, or nothing will.' + +After waiting for some answering remark, and getting none, Tom +wearily relapsed into the present time, and twined himself yawning +round and about the rails of his chair, and rumpled his head more +and more, until he suddenly looked up, and asked: + +'Have you gone to sleep, Loo?' + +'No, Tom. I am looking at the fire.' + +'You seem to find more to look at in it than ever I could find,' +said Tom. 'Another of the advantages, I suppose, of being a girl.' + +'Tom,' enquired his sister, slowly, and in a curious tone, as if +she were reading what she asked in the fire, and it was not quite +plainly written there, 'do you look forward with any satisfaction +to this change to Mr. Bounderby's?' + +'Why, there's one thing to be said of it,' returned Tom, pushing +his chair from him, and standing up; 'it will be getting away from +home.' + +'There is one thing to be said of it,' Louisa repeated in her +former curious tone; 'it will be getting away from home. Yes.' + +'Not but what I shall be very unwilling, both to leave you, Loo, +and to leave you here. But I must go, you know, whether I like it +or not; and I had better go where I can take with me some advantage +of your influence, than where I should lose it altogether. Don't +you see?' + +'Yes, Tom.' + +The answer was so long in coming, though there was no indecision in +it, that Tom went and leaned on the back of her chair, to +contemplate the fire which so engrossed her, from her point of +view, and see what he could make of it. + +'Except that it is a fire,' said Tom, 'it looks to me as stupid and +blank as everything else looks. What do you see in it? Not a +circus?' + +'I don't see anything in it, Tom, particularly. But since I have +been looking at it, I have been wondering about you and me, grown +up.' + +'Wondering again!' said Tom. + +'I have such unmanageable thoughts,' returned his sister, 'that +they will wonder.' + +'Then I beg of you, Louisa,' said Mrs. Gradgrind, who had opened +the door without being heard, 'to do nothing of that description, +for goodness' sake, you inconsiderate girl, or I shall never hear +the last of it from your father. And, Thomas, it is really +shameful, with my poor head continually wearing me out, that a boy +brought up as you have been, and whose education has cost what +yours has, should be found encouraging his sister to wonder, when +he knows his father has expressly said that she is not to do it.' + +Louisa denied Tom's participation in the offence; but her mother +stopped her with the conclusive answer, 'Louisa, don't tell me, in +my state of health; for unless you had been encouraged, it is +morally and physically impossible that you could have done it.' + +'I was encouraged by nothing, mother, but by looking at the red +sparks dropping out of the fire, and whitening and dying. It made +me think, after all, how short my life would be, and how little I +could hope to do in it.' + +'Nonsense!' said Mrs. Gradgrind, rendered almost energetic. +'Nonsense! Don't stand there and tell me such stuff, Louisa, to my +face, when you know very well that if it was ever to reach your +father's ears I should never hear the last of it. After all the +trouble that has been taken with you! After the lectures you have +attended, and the experiments you have seen! After I have heard +you myself, when the whole of my right side has been benumbed, +going on with your master about combustion, and calcination, and +calorification, and I may say every kind of ation that could drive +a poor invalid distracted, to hear you talking in this absurd way +about sparks and ashes! I wish,' whimpered Mrs. Gradgrind, taking +a chair, and discharging her strongest point before succumbing +under these mere shadows of facts, 'yes, I really do wish that I +had never had a family, and then you would have known what it was +to do without me!' + + + +CHAPTER IX - SISSY'S PROGRESS + + + +SISSY JUPE had not an easy time of it, between Mr. M'Choakumchild +and Mrs. Gradgrind, and was not without strong impulses, in the +first months of her probation, to run away. It hailed facts all +day long so very hard, and life in general was opened to her as +such a closely ruled ciphering-book, that assuredly she would have +run away, but for only one restraint. + +It is lamentable to think of; but this restraint was the result of +no arithmetical process, was self-imposed in defiance of all +calculation, and went dead against any table of probabilities that +any Actuary would have drawn up from the premises. The girl +believed that her father had not deserted her; she lived in the +hope that he would come back, and in the faith that he would be +made the happier by her remaining where she was. + +The wretched ignorance with which Jupe clung to this consolation, +rejecting the superior comfort of knowing, on a sound arithmetical +basis, that her father was an unnatural vagabond, filled Mr. +Gradgrind with pity. Yet, what was to be done? M'Choakumchild +reported that she had a very dense head for figures; that, once +possessed with a general idea of the globe, she took the smallest +conceivable interest in its exact measurements; that she was +extremely slow in the acquisition of dates, unless some pitiful +incident happened to be connected therewith; that she would burst +into tears on being required (by the mental process) immediately to +name the cost of two hundred and forty-seven muslin caps at +fourteen-pence halfpenny; that she was as low down, in the school, +as low could be; that after eight weeks of induction into the +elements of Political Economy, she had only yesterday been set +right by a prattler three feet high, for returning to the question, +'What is the first principle of this science?' the absurd answer, +'To do unto others as I would that they should do unto me.' + +Mr. Gradgrind observed, shaking his head, that all this was very +bad; that it showed the necessity of infinite grinding at the mill +of knowledge, as per system, schedule, blue book, report, and +tabular statements A to Z; and that Jupe 'must be kept to it.' So +Jupe was kept to it, and became low-spirited, but no wiser. + +'It would be a fine thing to be you, Miss Louisa!' she said, one +night, when Louisa had endeavoured to make her perplexities for +next day something clearer to her. + +'Do you think so?' + +'I should know so much, Miss Louisa. All that is difficult to me +now, would be so easy then.' + +'You might not be the better for it, Sissy.' + +Sissy submitted, after a little hesitation, 'I should not be the +worse, Miss Louisa.' To which Miss Louisa answered, 'I don't know +that.' + +There had been so little communication between these two - both +because life at Stone Lodge went monotonously round like a piece of +machinery which discouraged human interference, and because of the +prohibition relative to Sissy's past career - that they were still +almost strangers. Sissy, with her dark eyes wonderingly directed +to Louisa's face, was uncertain whether to say more or to remain +silent. + +'You are more useful to my mother, and more pleasant with her than +I can ever be,' Louisa resumed. 'You are pleasanter to yourself, +than I am to myself.' + +'But, if you please, Miss Louisa,' Sissy pleaded, 'I am - O so +stupid!' + +Louisa, with a brighter laugh than usual, told her she would be +wiser by-and-by. + +'You don't know,' said Sissy, half crying, 'what a stupid girl I +am. All through school hours I make mistakes. Mr. and Mrs. +M'Choakumchild call me up, over and over again, regularly to make +mistakes. I can't help them. They seem to come natural to me.' + +'Mr. and Mrs. M'Choakumchild never make any mistakes themselves, I +suppose, Sissy?' + +'O no!' she eagerly returned. 'They know everything.' + +'Tell me some of your mistakes.' + +'I am almost ashamed,' said Sissy, with reluctance. 'But to-day, +for instance, Mr. M'Choakumchild was explaining to us about Natural +Prosperity.' + +'National, I think it must have been,' observed Louisa. + +'Yes, it was. - But isn't it the same?' she timidly asked. + +'You had better say, National, as he said so,' returned Louisa, +with her dry reserve. + +'National Prosperity. And he said, Now, this schoolroom is a +Nation. And in this nation, there are fifty millions of money. +Isn't this a prosperous nation? Girl number twenty, isn't this a +prosperous nation, and a'n't you in a thriving state?' + +'What did you say?' asked Louisa. + +'Miss Louisa, I said I didn't know. I thought I couldn't know +whether it was a prosperous nation or not, and whether I was in a +thriving state or not, unless I knew who had got the money, and +whether any of it was mine. But that had nothing to do with it. +It was not in the figures at all,' said Sissy, wiping her eyes. + +'That was a great mistake of yours,' observed Louisa. + +'Yes, Miss Louisa, I know it was, now. Then Mr. M'Choakumchild +said he would try me again. And he said, This schoolroom is an +immense town, and in it there are a million of inhabitants, and +only five-and-twenty are starved to death in the streets, in the +course of a year. What is your remark on that proportion? And my +remark was - for I couldn't think of a better one - that I thought +it must be just as hard upon those who were starved, whether the +others were a million, or a million million. And that was wrong, +too.' + +'Of course it was.' + +'Then Mr. M'Choakumchild said he would try me once more. And he +said, Here are the stutterings - ' + +'Statistics,' said Louisa. + +'Yes, Miss Louisa - they always remind me of stutterings, and +that's another of my mistakes - of accidents upon the sea. And I +find (Mr. M'Choakumchild said) that in a given time a hundred +thousand persons went to sea on long voyages, and only five hundred +of them were drowned or burnt to death. What is the percentage? +And I said, Miss;' here Sissy fairly sobbed as confessing with +extreme contrition to her greatest error; 'I said it was nothing.' + +'Nothing, Sissy?' + +'Nothing, Miss - to the relations and friends of the people who +were killed. I shall never learn,' said Sissy. 'And the worst of +all is, that although my poor father wished me so much to learn, +and although I am so anxious to learn, because he wished me to, I +am afraid I don't like it.' + +Louisa stood looking at the pretty modest head, as it drooped +abashed before her, until it was raised again to glance at her +face. Then she asked: + +'Did your father know so much himself, that he wished you to be +well taught too, Sissy?' + +Sissy hesitated before replying, and so plainly showed her sense +that they were entering on forbidden ground, that Louisa added, 'No +one hears us; and if any one did, I am sure no harm could be found +in such an innocent question.' + +'No, Miss Louisa,' answered Sissy, upon this encouragement, shaking +her head; 'father knows very little indeed. It's as much as he can +do to write; and it's more than people in general can do to read +his writing. Though it's plain to me.' + +'Your mother?' + +'Father says she was quite a scholar. She died when I was born. +She was;' Sissy made the terrible communication nervously; 'she was +a dancer.' + +'Did your father love her?' Louisa asked these questions with a +strong, wild, wandering interest peculiar to her; an interest gone +astray like a banished creature, and hiding in solitary places. + +'O yes! As dearly as he loves me. Father loved me, first, for her +sake. He carried me about with him when I was quite a baby. We +have never been asunder from that time.' + +'Yet he leaves you now, Sissy?' + +'Only for my good. Nobody understands him as I do; nobody knows +him as I do. When he left me for my good - he never would have +left me for his own - I know he was almost broken-hearted with the +trial. He will not be happy for a single minute, till he comes +back.' + +'Tell me more about him,' said Louisa, 'I will never ask you again. +Where did you live?' + +'We travelled about the country, and had no fixed place to live in. +Father's a;' Sissy whispered the awful word, 'a clown.' + +'To make the people laugh?' said Louisa, with a nod of +intelligence. + +'Yes. But they wouldn't laugh sometimes, and then father cried. +Lately, they very often wouldn't laugh, and he used to come home +despairing. Father's not like most. Those who didn't know him as +well as I do, and didn't love him as dearly as I do, might believe +he was not quite right. Sometimes they played tricks upon him; but +they never knew how he felt them, and shrunk up, when he was alone +with me. He was far, far timider than they thought!' + +'And you were his comfort through everything?' + +She nodded, with the tears rolling down her face. 'I hope so, and +father said I was. It was because he grew so scared and trembling, +and because he felt himself to be a poor, weak, ignorant, helpless +man (those used to be his words), that he wanted me so much to know +a great deal, and be different from him. I used to read to him to +cheer his courage, and he was very fond of that. They were wrong +books - I am never to speak of them here - but we didn't know there +was any harm in them.' + +'And he liked them?' said Louisa, with a searching gaze on Sissy +all this time. + +'O very much! They kept him, many times, from what did him real +harm. And often and often of a night, he used to forget all his +troubles in wondering whether the Sultan would let the lady go on +with the story, or would have her head cut off before it was +finished.' + +'And your father was always kind? To the last?' asked Louisa +contravening the great principle, and wondering very much. + +'Always, always!' returned Sissy, clasping her hands. 'Kinder and +kinder than I can tell. He was angry only one night, and that was +not to me, but Merrylegs. Merrylegs;' she whispered the awful +fact; 'is his performing dog.' + +'Why was he angry with the dog?' Louisa demanded. + +'Father, soon after they came home from performing, told Merrylegs +to jump up on the backs of the two chairs and stand across them - +which is one of his tricks. He looked at father, and didn't do it +at once. Everything of father's had gone wrong that night, and he +hadn't pleased the public at all. He cried out that the very dog +knew he was failing, and had no compassion on him. Then he beat +the dog, and I was frightened, and said, "Father, father! Pray +don't hurt the creature who is so fond of you! O Heaven forgive +you, father, stop!" And he stopped, and the dog was bloody, and +father lay down crying on the floor with the dog in his arms, and +the dog licked his face.' + +Louisa saw that she was sobbing; and going to her, kissed her, took +her hand, and sat down beside her. + +'Finish by telling me how your father left you, Sissy. Now that I +have asked you so much, tell me the end. The blame, if there is +any blame, is mine, not yours.' + +'Dear Miss Louisa,' said Sissy, covering her eyes, and sobbing yet; +'I came home from the school that afternoon, and found poor father +just come home too, from the booth. And he sat rocking himself +over the fire, as if he was in pain. And I said, "Have you hurt +yourself, father?" (as he did sometimes, like they all did), and he +said, "A little, my darling." And when I came to stoop down and +look up at his face, I saw that he was crying. The more I spoke to +him, the more he hid his face; and at first he shook all over, and +said nothing but "My darling;" and "My love!"' + +Here Tom came lounging in, and stared at the two with a coolness +not particularly savouring of interest in anything but himself, and +not much of that at present. + +'I am asking Sissy a few questions, Tom,' observed his sister. +'You have no occasion to go away; but don't interrupt us for a +moment, Tom dear.' + +'Oh! very well!' returned Tom. 'Only father has brought old +Bounderby home, and I want you to come into the drawing-room. +Because if you come, there's a good chance of old Bounderby's +asking me to dinner; and if you don't, there's none.' + +'I'll come directly.' + +'I'll wait for you,' said Tom, 'to make sure.' + +Sissy resumed in a lower voice. 'At last poor father said that he +had given no satisfaction again, and never did give any +satisfaction now, and that he was a shame and disgrace, and I +should have done better without him all along. I said all the +affectionate things to him that came into my heart, and presently +he was quiet and I sat down by him, and told him all about the +school and everything that had been said and done there. When I +had no more left to tell, he put his arms round my neck, and kissed +me a great many times. Then he asked me to fetch some of the stuff +he used, for the little hurt he had had, and to get it at the best +place, which was at the other end of town from there; and then, +after kissing me again, he let me go. When I had gone down-stairs, +I turned back that I might be a little bit more company to him yet, +and looked in at the door, and said, "Father dear, shall I take +Merrylegs?" Father shook his head and said, "No, Sissy, no; take +nothing that's known to be mine, my darling;" and I left him +sitting by the fire. Then the thought must have come upon him, +poor, poor father! of going away to try something for my sake; for +when I came back, he was gone.' + +'I say! Look sharp for old Bounderby, Loo!' Tom remonstrated. + +'There's no more to tell, Miss Louisa. I keep the nine oils ready +for him, and I know he will come back. Every letter that I see in +Mr. Gradgrind's hand takes my breath away and blinds my eyes, for I +think it comes from father, or from Mr. Sleary about father. Mr. +Sleary promised to write as soon as ever father should be heard of, +and I trust to him to keep his word.' + +'Do look sharp for old Bounderby, Loo!' said Tom, with an impatient +whistle. 'He'll be off if you don't look sharp!' + +After this, whenever Sissy dropped a curtsey to Mr. Gradgrind in +the presence of his family, and said in a faltering way, 'I beg +your pardon, sir, for being troublesome - but - have you had any +letter yet about me?' Louisa would suspend the occupation of the +moment, whatever it was, and look for the reply as earnestly as +Sissy did. And when Mr. Gradgrind regularly answered, 'No, Jupe, +nothing of the sort,' the trembling of Sissy's lip would be +repeated in Louisa's face, and her eyes would follow Sissy with +compassion to the door. Mr. Gradgrind usually improved these +occasions by remarking, when she was gone, that if Jupe had been +properly trained from an early age she would have remonstrated to +herself on sound principles the baselessness of these fantastic +hopes. Yet it did seem (though not to him, for he saw nothing of +it) as if fantastic hope could take as strong a hold as Fact. + +This observation must be limited exclusively to his daughter. As +to Tom, he was becoming that not unprecedented triumph of +calculation which is usually at work on number one. As to Mrs. +Gradgrind, if she said anything on the subject, she would come a +little way out of her wrappers, like a feminine dormouse, and say: + +'Good gracious bless me, how my poor head is vexed and worried by +that girl Jupe's so perseveringly asking, over and over again, +about her tiresome letters! Upon my word and honour I seem to be +fated, and destined, and ordained, to live in the midst of things +that I am never to hear the last of. It really is a most +extraordinary circumstance that it appears as if I never was to +hear the last of anything!' + +At about this point, Mr. Gradgrind's eye would fall upon her; and +under the influence of that wintry piece of fact, she would become +torpid again. + + + +CHAPTER X - STEPHEN BLACKPOOL + + + +I ENTERTAIN a weak idea that the English people are as hard-worked +as any people upon whom the sun shines. I acknowledge to this +ridiculous idiosyncrasy, as a reason why I would give them a little +more play. + +In the hardest working part of Coketown; in the innermost +fortifications of that ugly citadel, where Nature was as strongly +bricked out as killing airs and gases were bricked in; at the heart +of the labyrinth of narrow courts upon courts, and close streets +upon streets, which had come into existence piecemeal, every piece +in a violent hurry for some one man's purpose, and the whole an +unnatural family, shouldering, and trampling, and pressing one +another to death; in the last close nook of this great exhausted +receiver, where the chimneys, for want of air to make a draught, +were built in an immense variety of stunted and crooked shapes, as +though every house put out a sign of the kind of people who might +be expected to be born in it; among the multitude of Coketown, +generically called 'the Hands,' - a race who would have found more +favour with some people, if Providence had seen fit to make them +only hands, or, like the lower creatures of the seashore, only +hands and stomachs - lived a certain Stephen Blackpool, forty years +of age. + +Stephen looked older, but he had had a hard life. It is said that +every life has its roses and thorns; there seemed, however, to have +been a misadventure or mistake in Stephen's case, whereby somebody +else had become possessed of his roses, and he had become possessed +of the same somebody else's thorns in addition to his own. He had +known, to use his words, a peck of trouble. He was usually called +Old Stephen, in a kind of rough homage to the fact. + +A rather stooping man, with a knitted brow, a pondering expression +of face, and a hard-looking head sufficiently capacious, on which +his iron-grey hair lay long and thin, Old Stephen might have passed +for a particularly intelligent man in his condition. Yet he was +not. He took no place among those remarkable 'Hands,' who, piecing +together their broken intervals of leisure through many years, had +mastered difficult sciences, and acquired a knowledge of most +unlikely things. He held no station among the Hands who could make +speeches and carry on debates. Thousands of his compeers could +talk much better than he, at any time. He was a good power-loom +weaver, and a man of perfect integrity. What more he was, or what +else he had in him, if anything, let him show for himself. + +The lights in the great factories, which looked, when they were +illuminated, like Fairy palaces - or the travellers by express- +train said so - were all extinguished; and the bells had rung for +knocking off for the night, and had ceased again; and the Hands, +men and women, boy and girl, were clattering home. Old Stephen was +standing in the street, with the old sensation upon him which the +stoppage of the machinery always produced - the sensation of its +having worked and stopped in his own head. + +'Yet I don't see Rachael, still!' said he. + +It was a wet night, and many groups of young women passed him, with +their shawls drawn over their bare heads and held close under their +chins to keep the rain out. He knew Rachael well, for a glance at +any one of these groups was sufficient to show him that she was not +there. At last, there were no more to come; and then he turned +away, saying in a tone of disappointment, 'Why, then, ha' missed +her!' + +But, he had not gone the length of three streets, when he saw +another of the shawled figures in advance of him, at which he +looked so keenly that perhaps its mere shadow indistinctly +reflected on the wet pavement - if he could have seen it without +the figure itself moving along from lamp to lamp, brightening and +fading as it went - would have been enough to tell him who was +there. Making his pace at once much quicker and much softer, he +darted on until he was very near this figure, then fell into his +former walk, and called 'Rachael!' + +She turned, being then in the brightness of a lamp; and raising her +hood a little, showed a quiet oval face, dark and rather delicate, +irradiated by a pair of very gentle eyes, and further set off by +the perfect order of her shining black hair. It was not a face in +its first bloom; she was a woman five and thirty years of age. + +'Ah, lad! 'Tis thou?' When she had said this, with a smile which +would have been quite expressed, though nothing of her had been +seen but her pleasant eyes, she replaced her hood again, and they +went on together. + +'I thought thou wast ahind me, Rachael?' + +'No.' + +'Early t'night, lass?' + +''Times I'm a little early, Stephen! 'times a little late. I'm +never to be counted on, going home.' + +'Nor going t'other way, neither, 't seems to me, Rachael?' + +'No, Stephen.' + +He looked at her with some disappointment in his face, but with a +respectful and patient conviction that she must be right in +whatever she did. The expression was not lost upon her; she laid +her hand lightly on his arm a moment as if to thank him for it. + +'We are such true friends, lad, and such old friends, and getting +to be such old folk, now.' + +'No, Rachael, thou'rt as young as ever thou wast.' + +'One of us would be puzzled how to get old, Stephen, without 't +other getting so too, both being alive,' she answered, laughing; +'but, anyways, we're such old friends, and t' hide a word of honest +truth fro' one another would be a sin and a pity. 'Tis better not +to walk too much together. 'Times, yes! 'Twould be hard, indeed, +if 'twas not to be at all,' she said, with a cheerfulness she +sought to communicate to him. + +''Tis hard, anyways, Rachael.' + +'Try to think not; and 'twill seem better.' + +'I've tried a long time, and 'ta'nt got better. But thou'rt right; +'t might mak fok talk, even of thee. Thou hast been that to me, +Rachael, through so many year: thou hast done me so much good, and +heartened of me in that cheering way, that thy word is a law to me. +Ah, lass, and a bright good law! Better than some real ones.' + +'Never fret about them, Stephen,' she answered quickly, and not +without an anxious glance at his face. 'Let the laws be.' + +'Yes,' he said, with a slow nod or two. 'Let 'em be. Let +everything be. Let all sorts alone. 'Tis a muddle, and that's +aw.' + +'Always a muddle?' said Rachael, with another gentle touch upon his +arm, as if to recall him out of the thoughtfulness, in which he was +biting the long ends of his loose neckerchief as he walked along. +The touch had its instantaneous effect. He let them fall, turned a +smiling face upon her, and said, as he broke into a good-humoured +laugh, 'Ay, Rachael, lass, awlus a muddle. That's where I stick. +I come to the muddle many times and agen, and I never get beyond +it.' + +They had walked some distance, and were near their own homes. The +woman's was the first reached. It was in one of the many small +streets for which the favourite undertaker (who turned a handsome +sum out of the one poor ghastly pomp of the neighbourhood) kept a +black ladder, in order that those who had done their daily groping +up and down the narrow stairs might slide out of this working world +by the windows. She stopped at the corner, and putting her hand in +his, wished him good night. + +'Good night, dear lass; good night!' + +She went, with her neat figure and her sober womanly step, down the +dark street, and he stood looking after her until she turned into +one of the small houses. There was not a flutter of her coarse +shawl, perhaps, but had its interest in this man's eyes; not a tone +of her voice but had its echo in his innermost heart. + +When she was lost to his view, he pursued his homeward way, +glancing up sometimes at the sky, where the clouds were sailing +fast and wildly. But, they were broken now, and the rain had +ceased, and the moon shone, - looking down the high chimneys of +Coketown on the deep furnaces below, and casting Titanic shadows of +the steam-engines at rest, upon the walls where they were lodged. +The man seemed to have brightened with the night, as he went on. + +His home, in such another street as the first, saving that it was +narrower, was over a little shop. How it came to pass that any +people found it worth their while to sell or buy the wretched +little toys, mixed up in its window with cheap newspapers and pork +(there was a leg to be raffled for to-morrow-night), matters not +here. He took his end of candle from a shelf, lighted it at +another end of candle on the counter, without disturbing the +mistress of the shop who was asleep in her little room, and went +upstairs into his lodging. + +It was a room, not unacquainted with the black ladder under various +tenants; but as neat, at present, as such a room could be. A few +books and writings were on an old bureau in a corner, the furniture +was decent and sufficient, and, though the atmosphere was tainted, +the room was clean. + +Going to the hearth to set the candle down upon a round three- +legged table standing there, he stumbled against something. As he +recoiled, looking down at it, it raised itself up into the form of +a woman in a sitting attitude. + +'Heaven's mercy, woman!' he cried, falling farther off from the +figure. 'Hast thou come back again!' + +Such a woman! A disabled, drunken creature, barely able to +preserve her sitting posture by steadying herself with one begrimed +hand on the floor, while the other was so purposeless in trying to +push away her tangled hair from her face, that it only blinded her +the more with the dirt upon it. A creature so foul to look at, in +her tatters, stains and splashes, but so much fouler than that in +her moral infamy, that it was a shameful thing even to see her. + +After an impatient oath or two, and some stupid clawing of herself +with the hand not necessary to her support, she got her hair away +from her eyes sufficiently to obtain a sight of him. Then she sat +swaying her body to and fro, and making gestures with her unnerved +arm, which seemed intended as the accompaniment to a fit of +laughter, though her face was stolid and drowsy. + +'Eigh, lad? What, yo'r there?' Some hoarse sounds meant for this, +came mockingly out of her at last; and her head dropped forward on +her breast. + +'Back agen?' she screeched, after some minutes, as if he had that +moment said it. 'Yes! And back agen. Back agen ever and ever so +often. Back? Yes, back. Why not?' + +Roused by the unmeaning violence with which she cried it out, she +scrambled up, and stood supporting herself with her shoulders +against the wall; dangling in one hand by the string, a dunghill- +fragment of a bonnet, and trying to look scornfully at him. + +'I'll sell thee off again, and I'll sell thee off again, and I'll +sell thee off a score of times!' she cried, with something between +a furious menace and an effort at a defiant dance. 'Come awa' from +th' bed!' He was sitting on the side of it, with his face hidden +in his hands. 'Come awa! from 't. 'Tis mine, and I've a right to +t'!' + +As she staggered to it, he avoided her with a shudder, and passed - +his face still hidden - to the opposite end of the room. She threw +herself upon the bed heavily, and soon was snoring hard. He sunk +into a chair, and moved but once all that night. It was to throw a +covering over her; as if his hands were not enough to hide her, +even in the darkness. + + + +CHAPTER XI - NO WAY OUT + + + +THE Fairy palaces burst into illumination, before pale morning +showed the monstrous serpents of smoke trailing themselves over +Coketown. A clattering of clogs upon the pavement; a rapid ringing +of bells; and all the melancholy mad elephants, polished and oiled +up for the day's monotony, were at their heavy exercise again. + +Stephen bent over his loom, quiet, watchful, and steady. A special +contrast, as every man was in the forest of looms where Stephen +worked, to the crashing, smashing, tearing piece of mechanism at +which he laboured. Never fear, good people of an anxious turn of +mind, that Art will consign Nature to oblivion. Set anywhere, side +by side, the work of GOD and the work of man; and the former, even +though it be a troop of Hands of very small account, will gain in +dignity from the comparison. + +So many hundred Hands in this Mill; so many hundred horse Steam +Power. It is known, to the force of a single pound weight, what +the engine will do; but, not all the calculators of the National +Debt can tell me the capacity for good or evil, for love or hatred, +for patriotism or discontent, for the decomposition of virtue into +vice, or the reverse, at any single moment in the soul of one of +these its quiet servants, with the composed faces and the regulated +actions. There is no mystery in it; there is an unfathomable +mystery in the meanest of them, for ever. - Supposing we were to +reverse our arithmetic for material objects, and to govern these +awful unknown quantities by other means! + +The day grew strong, and showed itself outside, even against the +flaming lights within. The lights were turned out, and the work +went on. The rain fell, and the Smoke-serpents, submissive to the +curse of all that tribe, trailed themselves upon the earth. In the +waste-yard outside, the steam from the escape pipe, the litter of +barrels and old iron, the shining heaps of coals, the ashes +everywhere, were shrouded in a veil of mist and rain. + +The work went on, until the noon-bell rang. More clattering upon +the pavements. The looms, and wheels, and Hands all out of gear +for an hour. + +Stephen came out of the hot mill into the damp wind and cold wet +streets, haggard and worn. He turned from his own class and his +own quarter, taking nothing but a little bread as he walked along, +towards the hill on which his principal employer lived, in a red +house with black outside shutters, green inside blinds, a black +street door, up two white steps, BOUNDERBY (in letters very like +himself) upon a brazen plate, and a round brazen door-handle +underneath it, like a brazen full-stop. + +Mr. Bounderby was at his lunch. So Stephen had expected. Would +his servant say that one of the Hands begged leave to speak to him? +Message in return, requiring name of such Hand. Stephen Blackpool. +There was nothing troublesome against Stephen Blackpool; yes, he +might come in. + +Stephen Blackpool in the parlour. Mr. Bounderby (whom he just knew +by sight), at lunch on chop and sherry. Mrs. Sparsit netting at +the fireside, in a side-saddle attitude, with one foot in a cotton +stirrup. It was a part, at once of Mrs. Sparsit's dignity and +service, not to lunch. She supervised the meal officially, but +implied that in her own stately person she considered lunch a +weakness. + +'Now, Stephen,' said Mr. Bounderby, 'what's the matter with you?' + +Stephen made a bow. Not a servile one - these Hands will never do +that! Lord bless you, sir, you'll never catch them at that, if +they have been with you twenty years! - and, as a complimentary +toilet for Mrs. Sparsit, tucked his neckerchief ends into his +waistcoat. + +'Now, you know,' said Mr. Bounderby, taking some sherry, 'we have +never had any difficulty with you, and you have never been one of +the unreasonable ones. You don't expect to be set up in a coach +and six, and to be fed on turtle soup and venison, with a gold +spoon, as a good many of 'em do!' Mr. Bounderby always represented +this to be the sole, immediate, and direct object of any Hand who +was not entirely satisfied; 'and therefore I know already that you +have not come here to make a complaint. Now, you know, I am +certain of that, beforehand.' + +'No, sir, sure I ha' not coom for nowt o' th' kind.' + +Mr. Bounderby seemed agreeably surprised, notwithstanding his +previous strong conviction. 'Very well,' he returned. 'You're a +steady Hand, and I was not mistaken. Now, let me hear what it's +all about. As it's not that, let me hear what it is. What have +you got to say? Out with it, lad!' + +Stephen happened to glance towards Mrs. Sparsit. 'I can go, Mr. +Bounderby, if you wish it,' said that self-sacrificing lady, making +a feint of taking her foot out of the stirrup. + +Mr. Bounderby stayed her, by holding a mouthful of chop in +suspension before swallowing it, and putting out his left hand. +Then, withdrawing his hand and swallowing his mouthful of chop, he +said to Stephen: + +'Now you know, this good lady is a born lady, a high lady. You are +not to suppose because she keeps my house for me, that she hasn't +been very high up the tree - ah, up at the top of the tree! Now, +if you have got anything to say that can't be said before a born +lady, this lady will leave the room. If what you have got to say +can be said before a born lady, this lady will stay where she is.' + +'Sir, I hope I never had nowt to say, not fitten for a born lady to +year, sin' I were born mysen',' was the reply, accompanied with a +slight flush. + +'Very well,' said Mr. Bounderby, pushing away his plate, and +leaning back. 'Fire away!' + +'I ha' coom,' Stephen began, raising his eyes from the floor, after +a moment's consideration, 'to ask yo yor advice. I need 't +overmuch. I were married on Eas'r Monday nineteen year sin, long +and dree. She were a young lass - pretty enow - wi' good accounts +of herseln. Well! She went bad - soon. Not along of me. Gonnows +I were not a unkind husband to her.' + +'I have heard all this before,' said Mr. Bounderby. 'She took to +drinking, left off working, sold the furniture, pawned the clothes, +and played old Gooseberry.' + +'I were patient wi' her.' + +('The more fool you, I think,' said Mr. Bounderby, in confidence to +his wine-glass.) + +'I were very patient wi' her. I tried to wean her fra 't ower and +ower agen. I tried this, I tried that, I tried t'other. I ha' +gone home, many's the time, and found all vanished as I had in the +world, and her without a sense left to bless herseln lying on bare +ground. I ha' dun 't not once, not twice - twenty time!' + +Every line in his face deepened as he said it, and put in its +affecting evidence of the suffering he had undergone. + +'From bad to worse, from worse to worsen. She left me. She +disgraced herseln everyways, bitter and bad. She coom back, she +coom back, she coom back. What could I do t' hinder her? I ha' +walked the streets nights long, ere ever I'd go home. I ha' gone +t' th' brigg, minded to fling myseln ower, and ha' no more on't. I +ha' bore that much, that I were owd when I were young.' + +Mrs. Sparsit, easily ambling along with her netting-needles, raised +the Coriolanian eyebrows and shook her head, as much as to say, +'The great know trouble as well as the small. Please to turn your +humble eye in My direction.' + +'I ha' paid her to keep awa' fra' me. These five year I ha' paid +her. I ha' gotten decent fewtrils about me agen. I ha' lived hard +and sad, but not ashamed and fearfo' a' the minnits o' my life. +Last night, I went home. There she lay upon my har-stone! There +she is!' + +In the strength of his misfortune, and the energy of his distress, +he fired for the moment like a proud man. In another moment, he +stood as he had stood all the time - his usual stoop upon him; his +pondering face addressed to Mr. Bounderby, with a curious +expression on it, half shrewd, half perplexed, as if his mind were +set upon unravelling something very difficult; his hat held tight +in his left hand, which rested on his hip; his right arm, with a +rugged propriety and force of action, very earnestly emphasizing +what he said: not least so when it always paused, a little bent, +but not withdrawn, as he paused. + +'I was acquainted with all this, you know,' said Mr. Bounderby, +'except the last clause, long ago. It's a bad job; that's what it +is. You had better have been satisfied as you were, and not have +got married. However, it's too late to say that.' + +'Was it an unequal marriage, sir, in point of years?' asked Mrs. +Sparsit. + +'You hear what this lady asks. Was it an unequal marriage in point +of years, this unlucky job of yours?' said Mr. Bounderby. + +'Not e'en so. I were one-and-twenty myseln; she were twenty +nighbut.' + +'Indeed, sir?' said Mrs. Sparsit to her Chief, with great +placidity. 'I inferred, from its being so miserable a marriage, +that it was probably an unequal one in point of years.' + +Mr. Bounderby looked very hard at the good lady in a side-long way +that had an odd sheepishness about it. He fortified himself with a +little more sherry. + +'Well? Why don't you go on?' he then asked, turning rather +irritably on Stephen Blackpool. + +'I ha' coom to ask yo, sir, how I am to be ridded o' this woman.' +Stephen infused a yet deeper gravity into the mixed expression of +his attentive face. Mrs. Sparsit uttered a gentle ejaculation, as +having received a moral shock. + +'What do you mean?' said Bounderby, getting up to lean his back +against the chimney-piece. 'What are you talking about? You took +her for better for worse.' + +'I mun' be ridden o' her. I cannot bear 't nommore. I ha' lived +under 't so long, for that I ha' had'n the pity and comforting +words o' th' best lass living or dead. Haply, but for her, I +should ha' gone battering mad.' + +'He wishes to be free, to marry the female of whom he speaks, I +fear, sir,' observed Mrs. Sparsit in an undertone, and much +dejected by the immorality of the people. + +'I do. The lady says what's right. I do. I were a coming to 't. +I ha' read i' th' papers that great folk (fair faw 'em a'! I +wishes 'em no hurt!) are not bonded together for better for worst +so fast, but that they can be set free fro' their misfortnet +marriages, an' marry ower agen. When they dunnot agree, for that +their tempers is ill-sorted, they has rooms o' one kind an' another +in their houses, above a bit, and they can live asunders. We fok +ha' only one room, and we can't. When that won't do, they ha' gowd +an' other cash, an' they can say "This for yo' an' that for me," +an' they can go their separate ways. We can't. Spite o' all that, +they can be set free for smaller wrongs than mine. So, I mun be +ridden o' this woman, and I want t' know how?' + +'No how,' returned Mr. Bounderby. + +'If I do her any hurt, sir, there's a law to punish me?' + +'Of course there is.' + +'If I flee from her, there's a law to punish me?' + +'Of course there is.' + +'If I marry t'oother dear lass, there's a law to punish me?' + +'Of course there is.' + +'If I was to live wi' her an' not marry her - saying such a thing +could be, which it never could or would, an' her so good - there's +a law to punish me, in every innocent child belonging to me?' + +'Of course there is.' + +'Now, a' God's name,' said Stephen Blackpool, 'show me the law to +help me!' + +'Hem! There's a sanctity in this relation of life,' said Mr. +Bounderby, 'and - and - it must be kept up.' + +'No no, dunnot say that, sir. 'Tan't kep' up that way. Not that +way. 'Tis kep' down that way. I'm a weaver, I were in a fact'ry +when a chilt, but I ha' gotten een to see wi' and eern to year wi'. +I read in th' papers every 'Sizes, every Sessions - and you read +too - I know it! - with dismay - how th' supposed unpossibility o' +ever getting unchained from one another, at any price, on any +terms, brings blood upon this land, and brings many common married +fok to battle, murder, and sudden death. Let us ha' this, right +understood. Mine's a grievous case, an' I want - if yo will be so +good - t' know the law that helps me.' + +'Now, I tell you what!' said Mr. Bounderby, putting his hands in +his pockets. 'There is such a law.' + +Stephen, subsiding into his quiet manner, and never wandering in +his attention, gave a nod. + +'But it's not for you at all. It costs money. It costs a mint of +money.' + +'How much might that be?' Stephen calmly asked. + +'Why, you'd have to go to Doctors' Commons with a suit, and you'd +have to go to a court of Common Law with a suit, and you'd have to +go to the House of Lords with a suit, and you'd have to get an Act +of Parliament to enable you to marry again, and it would cost you +(if it was a case of very plain sailing), I suppose from a thousand +to fifteen hundred pound,' said Mr. Bounderby. 'Perhaps twice the +money.' + +'There's no other law?' + +'Certainly not.' + +'Why then, sir,' said Stephen, turning white, and motioning with +that right hand of his, as if he gave everything to the four winds, +''tis a muddle. 'Tis just a muddle a'toogether, an' the sooner I +am dead, the better.' + +(Mrs. Sparsit again dejected by the impiety of the people.) + +'Pooh, pooh! Don't you talk nonsense, my good fellow,' said Mr. +Bounderby, 'about things you don't understand; and don't you call +the Institutions of your country a muddle, or you'll get yourself +into a real muddle one of these fine mornings. The institutions of +your country are not your piece-work, and the only thing you have +got to do, is, to mind your piece-work. You didn't take your wife +for fast and for loose; but for better for worse. If she has +turned out worse - why, all we have got to say is, she might have +turned out better.' + +''Tis a muddle,' said Stephen, shaking his head as he moved to the +door. ''Tis a' a muddle!' + +'Now, I'll tell you what!' Mr. Bounderby resumed, as a valedictory +address. 'With what I shall call your unhallowed opinions, you +have been quite shocking this lady: who, as I have already told +you, is a born lady, and who, as I have not already told you, has +had her own marriage misfortunes to the tune of tens of thousands +of pounds - tens of Thousands of Pounds!' (he repeated it with +great relish). 'Now, you have always been a steady Hand hitherto; +but my opinion is, and so I tell you plainly, that you are turning +into the wrong road. You have been listening to some mischievous +stranger or other - they're always about - and the best thing you +can do is, to come out of that. Now you know;' here his +countenance expressed marvellous acuteness; 'I can see as far into +a grindstone as another man; farther than a good many, perhaps, +because I had my nose well kept to it when I was young. I see +traces of the turtle soup, and venison, and gold spoon in this. +Yes, I do!' cried Mr. Bounderby, shaking his head with obstinate +cunning. 'By the Lord Harry, I do!' + +With a very different shake of the head and deep sigh, Stephen +said, 'Thank you, sir, I wish you good day.' So he left Mr. +Bounderby swelling at his own portrait on the wall, as if he were +going to explode himself into it; and Mrs. Sparsit still ambling on +with her foot in her stirrup, looking quite cast down by the +popular vices. + + + +CHAPTER XII - THE OLD WOMAN + + + +OLD STEPHEN descended the two white steps, shutting the black door +with the brazen door-plate, by the aid of the brazen full-stop, to +which he gave a parting polish with the sleeve of his coat, +observing that his hot hand clouded it. He crossed the street with +his eyes bent upon the ground, and thus was walking sorrowfully +away, when he felt a touch upon his arm. + +It was not the touch he needed most at such a moment - the touch +that could calm the wild waters of his soul, as the uplifted hand +of the sublimest love and patience could abate the raging of the +sea - yet it was a woman's hand too. It was an old woman, tall and +shapely still, though withered by time, on whom his eyes fell when +he stopped and turned. She was very cleanly and plainly dressed, +had country mud upon her shoes, and was newly come from a journey. +The flutter of her manner, in the unwonted noise of the streets; +the spare shawl, carried unfolded on her arm; the heavy umbrella, +and little basket; the loose long-fingered gloves, to which her +hands were unused; all bespoke an old woman from the country, in +her plain holiday clothes, come into Coketown on an expedition of +rare occurrence. Remarking this at a glance, with the quick +observation of his class, Stephen Blackpool bent his attentive face +- his face, which, like the faces of many of his order, by dint of +long working with eyes and hands in the midst of a prodigious +noise, had acquired the concentrated look with which we are +familiar in the countenances of the deaf - the better to hear what +she asked him. + +'Pray, sir,' said the old woman, 'didn't I see you come out of that +gentleman's house?' pointing back to Mr. Bounderby's. 'I believe +it was you, unless I have had the bad luck to mistake the person in +following?' + +'Yes, missus,' returned Stephen, 'it were me.' + +'Have you - you'll excuse an old woman's curiosity - have you seen +the gentleman?' + +'Yes, missus.' + +'And how did he look, sir? Was he portly, bold, outspoken, and +hearty?' As she straightened her own figure, and held up her head +in adapting her action to her words, the idea crossed Stephen that +he had seen this old woman before, and had not quite liked her. + +'O yes,' he returned, observing her more attentively, 'he were all +that.' + +'And healthy,' said the old woman, 'as the fresh wind?' + +'Yes,' returned Stephen. 'He were ett'n and drinking - as large +and as loud as a Hummobee.' + +'Thank you!' said the old woman, with infinite content. 'Thank +you!' + +He certainly never had seen this old woman before. Yet there was a +vague remembrance in his mind, as if he had more than once dreamed +of some old woman like her. + +She walked along at his side, and, gently accommodating himself to +her humour, he said Coketown was a busy place, was it not? To +which she answered 'Eigh sure! Dreadful busy!' Then he said, she +came from the country, he saw? To which she answered in the +affirmative. + +'By Parliamentary, this morning. I came forty mile by +Parliamentary this morning, and I'm going back the same forty mile +this afternoon. I walked nine mile to the station this morning, +and if I find nobody on the road to give me a lift, I shall walk +the nine mile back to-night. That's pretty well, sir, at my age!' +said the chatty old woman, her eye brightening with exultation. + +''Deed 'tis. Don't do't too often, missus.' + +'No, no. Once a year,' she answered, shaking her head. 'I spend +my savings so, once every year. I come regular, to tramp about the +streets, and see the gentlemen.' + +'Only to see 'em?' returned Stephen. + +'That's enough for me,' she replied, with great earnestness and +interest of manner. 'I ask no more! I have been standing about, +on this side of the way, to see that gentleman,' turning her head +back towards Mr. Bounderby's again, 'come out. But, he's late this +year, and I have not seen him. You came out instead. Now, if I am +obliged to go back without a glimpse of him - I only want a glimpse +- well! I have seen you, and you have seen him, and I must make +that do.' Saying this, she looked at Stephen as if to fix his +features in her mind, and her eye was not so bright as it had been. + +With a large allowance for difference of tastes, and with all +submission to the patricians of Coketown, this seemed so +extraordinary a source of interest to take so much trouble about, +that it perplexed him. But they were passing the church now, and +as his eye caught the clock, he quickened his pace. + +He was going to his work? the old woman said, quickening hers, too, +quite easily. Yes, time was nearly out. On his telling her where +he worked, the old woman became a more singular old woman than +before. + +'An't you happy?' she asked him. + +'Why - there's awmost nobbody but has their troubles, missus.' He +answered evasively, because the old woman appeared to take it for +granted that he would be very happy indeed, and he had not the +heart to disappoint her. He knew that there was trouble enough in +the world; and if the old woman had lived so long, and could count +upon his having so little, why so much the better for her, and none +the worse for him. + +'Ay, ay! You have your troubles at home, you mean?' she said. + +'Times. Just now and then,' he answered, slightly. + +'But, working under such a gentleman, they don't follow you to the +Factory?' + +No, no; they didn't follow him there, said Stephen. All correct +there. Everything accordant there. (He did not go so far as to +say, for her pleasure, that there was a sort of Divine Right there; +but, I have heard claims almost as magnificent of late years.) + +They were now in the black by-road near the place, and the Hands +were crowding in. The bell was ringing, and the Serpent was a +Serpent of many coils, and the Elephant was getting ready. The +strange old woman was delighted with the very bell. It was the +beautifullest bell she had ever heard, she said, and sounded grand! + +She asked him, when he stopped good-naturedly to shake hands with +her before going in, how long he had worked there? + +'A dozen year,' he told her. + +'I must kiss the hand,' said she, 'that has worked in this fine +factory for a dozen year!' And she lifted it, though he would have +prevented her, and put it to her lips. What harmony, besides her +age and her simplicity, surrounded her, he did not know, but even +in this fantastic action there was a something neither out of time +nor place: a something which it seemed as if nobody else could +have made as serious, or done with such a natural and touching air. + +He had been at his loom full half an hour, thinking about this old +woman, when, having occasion to move round the loom for its +adjustment, he glanced through a window which was in his corner, +and saw her still looking up at the pile of building, lost in +admiration. Heedless of the smoke and mud and wet, and of her two +long journeys, she was gazing at it, as if the heavy thrum that +issued from its many stories were proud music to her. + +She was gone by and by, and the day went after her, and the lights +sprung up again, and the Express whirled in full sight of the Fairy +Palace over the arches near: little felt amid the jarring of the +machinery, and scarcely heard above its crash and rattle. Long +before then his thoughts had gone back to the dreary room above the +little shop, and to the shameful figure heavy on the bed, but +heavier on his heart. + +Machinery slackened; throbbing feebly like a fainting pulse; +stopped. The bell again; the glare of light and heat dispelled; +the factories, looming heavy in the black wet night - their tall +chimneys rising up into the air like competing Towers of Babel. + +He had spoken to Rachael only last night, it was true, and had +walked with her a little way; but he had his new misfortune on him, +in which no one else could give him a moment's relief, and, for the +sake of it, and because he knew himself to want that softening of +his anger which no voice but hers could effect, he felt he might so +far disregard what she had said as to wait for her again. He +waited, but she had eluded him. She was gone. On no other night +in the year could he so ill have spared her patient face. + +O! Better to have no home in which to lay his head, than to have a +home and dread to go to it, through such a cause. He ate and +drank, for he was exhausted - but he little knew or cared what; and +he wandered about in the chill rain, thinking and thinking, and +brooding and brooding. + +No word of a new marriage had ever passed between them; but Rachael +had taken great pity on him years ago, and to her alone he had +opened his closed heart all this time, on the subject of his +miseries; and he knew very well that if he were free to ask her, +she would take him. He thought of the home he might at that moment +have been seeking with pleasure and pride; of the different man he +might have been that night; of the lightness then in his now heavy- +laden breast; of the then restored honour, self-respect, and +tranquillity all torn to pieces. He thought of the waste of the +best part of his life, of the change it made in his character for +the worse every day, of the dreadful nature of his existence, bound +hand and foot, to a dead woman, and tormented by a demon in her +shape. He thought of Rachael, how young when they were first +brought together in these circumstances, how mature now, how soon +to grow old. He thought of the number of girls and women she had +seen marry, how many homes with children in them she had seen grow +up around her, how she had contentedly pursued her own lone quiet +path - for him - and how he had sometimes seen a shade of +melancholy on her blessed face, that smote him with remorse and +despair. He set the picture of her up, beside the infamous image +of last night; and thought, Could it be, that the whole earthly +course of one so gentle, good, and self-denying, was subjugate to +such a wretch as that! + +Filled with these thoughts - so filled that he had an unwholesome +sense of growing larger, of being placed in some new and diseased +relation towards the objects among which he passed, of seeing the +iris round every misty light turn red - he went home for shelter. + + + +CHAPTER XIII - RACHAEL + + + +A CANDLE faintly burned in the window, to which the black ladder +had often been raised for the sliding away of all that was most +precious in this world to a striving wife and a brood of hungry +babies; and Stephen added to his other thoughts the stern +reflection, that of all the casualties of this existence upon +earth, not one was dealt out with so unequal a hand as Death. The +inequality of Birth was nothing to it. For, say that the child of +a King and the child of a Weaver were born to-night in the same +moment, what was that disparity, to the death of any human creature +who was serviceable to, or beloved by, another, while this +abandoned woman lived on! + +From the outside of his home he gloomily passed to the inside, with +suspended breath and with a slow footstep. He went up to his door, +opened it, and so into the room. + +Quiet and peace were there. Rachael was there, sitting by the bed. + +She turned her head, and the light of her face shone in upon the +midnight of his mind. She sat by the bed, watching and tending his +wife. That is to say, he saw that some one lay there, and he knew +too well it must be she; but Rachael's hands had put a curtain up, +so that she was screened from his eyes. Her disgraceful garments +were removed, and some of Rachael's were in the room. Everything +was in its place and order as he had always kept it, the little +fire was newly trimmed, and the hearth was freshly swept. It +appeared to him that he saw all this in Rachael's face, and looked +at nothing besides. While looking at it, it was shut out from his +view by the softened tears that filled his eyes; but not before he +had seen how earnestly she looked at him, and how her own eyes were +filled too. + +She turned again towards the bed, and satisfying herself that all +was quiet there, spoke in a low, calm, cheerful voice. + +'I am glad you have come at last, Stephen. You are very late.' + +'I ha' been walking up an' down.' + +'I thought so. But 'tis too bad a night for that. The rain falls +very heavy, and the wind has risen.' + +The wind? True. It was blowing hard. Hark to the thundering in +the chimney, and the surging noise! To have been out in such a +wind, and not to have known it was blowing! + +'I have been here once before, to-day, Stephen. Landlady came +round for me at dinner-time. There was some one here that needed +looking to, she said. And 'deed she was right. All wandering and +lost, Stephen. Wounded too, and bruised.' + +He slowly moved to a chair and sat down, drooping his head before +her. + +'I came to do what little I could, Stephen; first, for that she +worked with me when we were girls both, and for that you courted +her and married her when I was her friend - ' + +He laid his furrowed forehead on his hand, with a low groan. + +'And next, for that I know your heart, and am right sure and +certain that 'tis far too merciful to let her die, or even so much +as suffer, for want of aid. Thou knowest who said, "Let him who is +without sin among you cast the first stone at her!" There have +been plenty to do that. Thou art not the man to cast the last +stone, Stephen, when she is brought so low.' + +'O Rachael, Rachael!' + +'Thou hast been a cruel sufferer, Heaven reward thee!' she said, in +compassionate accents. 'I am thy poor friend, with all my heart +and mind.' + +The wounds of which she had spoken, seemed to be about the neck of +the self-made outcast. She dressed them now, still without showing +her. She steeped a piece of linen in a basin, into which she +poured some liquid from a bottle, and laid it with a gentle hand +upon the sore. The three-legged table had been drawn close to the +bedside, and on it there were two bottles. This was one. + +It was not so far off, but that Stephen, following her hands with +his eyes, could read what was printed on it in large letters. He +turned of a deadly hue, and a sudden horror seemed to fall upon +him. + +'I will stay here, Stephen,' said Rachael, quietly resuming her +seat, 'till the bells go Three. 'Tis to be done again at three, +and then she may be left till morning.' + +'But thy rest agen to-morrow's work, my dear.' + +'I slept sound last night. I can wake many nights, when I am put +to it. 'Tis thou who art in need of rest - so white and tired. +Try to sleep in the chair there, while I watch. Thou hadst no +sleep last night, I can well believe. To-morrow's work is far +harder for thee than for me.' + +He heard the thundering and surging out of doors, and it seemed to +him as if his late angry mood were going about trying to get at +him. She had cast it out; she would keep it out; he trusted to her +to defend him from himself. + +'She don't know me, Stephen; she just drowsily mutters and stares. +I have spoken to her times and again, but she don't notice! 'Tis +as well so. When she comes to her right mind once more, I shall +have done what I can, and she never the wiser.' + +'How long, Rachael, is 't looked for, that she'll be so?' + +'Doctor said she would haply come to her mind to-morrow.' + +His eyes fell again on the bottle, and a tremble passed over him, +causing him to shiver in every limb. She thought he was chilled +with the wet. 'No,' he said, 'it was not that. He had had a +fright.' + +'A fright?' + +'Ay, ay! coming in. When I were walking. When I were thinking. +When I - ' It seized him again; and he stood up, holding by the +mantel-shelf, as he pressed his dank cold hair down with a hand +that shook as if it were palsied. + +'Stephen!' + +She was coming to him, but he stretched out his arm to stop her. + +'No! Don't, please; don't. Let me see thee setten by the bed. +Let me see thee, a' so good, and so forgiving. Let me see thee as +I see thee when I coom in. I can never see thee better than so. +Never, never, never!' + +He had a violent fit of trembling, and then sunk into his chair. +After a time he controlled himself, and, resting with an elbow on +one knee, and his head upon that hand, could look towards Rachael. +Seen across the dim candle with his moistened eyes, she looked as +if she had a glory shining round her head. He could have believed +she had. He did believe it, as the noise without shook the window, +rattled at the door below, and went about the house clamouring and +lamenting. + +'When she gets better, Stephen, 'tis to be hoped she'll leave thee +to thyself again, and do thee no more hurt. Anyways we will hope +so now. And now I shall keep silence, for I want thee to sleep.' + +He closed his eyes, more to please her than to rest his weary head; +but, by slow degrees as he listened to the great noise of the wind, +he ceased to hear it, or it changed into the working of his loom, +or even into the voices of the day (his own included) saying what +had been really said. Even this imperfect consciousness faded away +at last, and he dreamed a long, troubled dream. + +He thought that he, and some one on whom his heart had long been +set - but she was not Rachael, and that surprised him, even in the +midst of his imaginary happiness - stood in the church being +married. While the ceremony was performing, and while he +recognized among the witnesses some whom he knew to be living, and +many whom he knew to be dead, darkness came on, succeeded by the +shining of a tremendous light. It broke from one line in the table +of commandments at the altar, and illuminated the building with the +words. They were sounded through the church, too, as if there were +voices in the fiery letters. Upon this, the whole appearance +before him and around him changed, and nothing was left as it had +been, but himself and the clergyman. They stood in the daylight +before a crowd so vast, that if all the people in the world could +have been brought together into one space, they could not have +looked, he thought, more numerous; and they all abhorred him, and +there was not one pitying or friendly eye among the millions that +were fastened on his face. He stood on a raised stage, under his +own loom; and, looking up at the shape the loom took, and hearing +the burial service distinctly read, he knew that he was there to +suffer death. In an instant what he stood on fell below him, and +he was gone. + +- Out of what mystery he came back to his usual life, and to places +that he knew, he was unable to consider; but he was back in those +places by some means, and with this condemnation upon him, that he +was never, in this world or the next, through all the unimaginable +ages of eternity, to look on Rachael's face or hear her voice. +Wandering to and fro, unceasingly, without hope, and in search of +he knew not what (he only knew that he was doomed to seek it), he +was the subject of a nameless, horrible dread, a mortal fear of one +particular shape which everything took. Whatsoever he looked at, +grew into that form sooner or later. The object of his miserable +existence was to prevent its recognition by any one among the +various people he encountered. Hopeless labour! If he led them +out of rooms where it was, if he shut up drawers and closets where +it stood, if he drew the curious from places where he knew it to be +secreted, and got them out into the streets, the very chimneys of +the mills assumed that shape, and round them was the printed word. + +The wind was blowing again, the rain was beating on the house-tops, +and the larger spaces through which he had strayed contracted to +the four walls of his room. Saving that the fire had died out, it +was as his eyes had closed upon it. Rachael seemed to have fallen +into a doze, in the chair by the bed. She sat wrapped in her +shawl, perfectly still. The table stood in the same place, close +by the bedside, and on it, in its real proportions and appearance, +was the shape so often repeated. + +He thought he saw the curtain move. He looked again, and he was +sure it moved. He saw a hand come forth and grope about a little. +Then the curtain moved more perceptibly, and the woman in the bed +put it back, and sat up. + +With her woful eyes, so haggard and wild, so heavy and large, she +looked all round the room, and passed the corner where he slept in +his chair. Her eyes returned to that corner, and she put her hand +over them as a shade, while she looked into it. Again they went +all round the room, scarcely heeding Rachael if at all, and +returned to that corner. He thought, as she once more shaded them +- not so much looking at him, as looking for him with a brutish +instinct that he was there - that no single trace was left in those +debauched features, or in the mind that went along with them, of +the woman he had married eighteen years before. But that he had +seen her come to this by inches, he never could have believed her +to be the same. + +All this time, as if a spell were on him, he was motionless and +powerless, except to watch her. + +Stupidly dozing, or communing with her incapable self about +nothing, she sat for a little while with her hands at her ears, and +her head resting on them. Presently, she resumed her staring round +the room. And now, for the first time, her eyes stopped at the +table with the bottles on it. + +Straightway she turned her eyes back to his corner, with the +defiance of last night, and moving very cautiously and softly, +stretched out her greedy hand. She drew a mug into the bed, and +sat for a while considering which of the two bottles she should +choose. Finally, she laid her insensate grasp upon the bottle that +had swift and certain death in it, and, before his eyes, pulled out +the cork with her teeth. + +Dream or reality, he had no voice, nor had he power to stir. If +this be real, and her allotted time be not yet come, wake, Rachael, +wake! + +She thought of that, too. She looked at Rachael, and very slowly, +very cautiously, poured out the contents. The draught was at her +lips. A moment and she would be past all help, let the whole world +wake and come about her with its utmost power. But in that moment +Rachael started up with a suppressed cry. The creature struggled, +struck her, seized her by the hair; but Rachael had the cup. + +Stephen broke out of his chair. 'Rachael, am I wakin' or dreamin' +this dreadfo' night?' + +''Tis all well, Stephen. I have been asleep, myself. 'Tis near +three. Hush! I hear the bells.' + +The wind brought the sounds of the church clock to the window. +They listened, and it struck three. Stephen looked at her, saw how +pale she was, noted the disorder of her hair, and the red marks of +fingers on her forehead, and felt assured that his senses of sight +and hearing had been awake. She held the cup in her hand even now. + +'I thought it must be near three,' she said, calmly pouring from +the cup into the basin, and steeping the linen as before. 'I am +thankful I stayed! 'Tis done now, when I have put this on. There! +And now she's quiet again. The few drops in the basin I'll pour +away, for 'tis bad stuff to leave about, though ever so little of +it.' As she spoke, she drained the basin into the ashes of the +fire, and broke the bottle on the hearth. + +She had nothing to do, then, but to cover herself with her shawl +before going out into the wind and rain. + +'Thou'lt let me walk wi' thee at this hour, Rachael?' + +'No, Stephen. 'Tis but a minute, and I'm home.' + +'Thou'rt not fearfo';' he said it in a low voice, as they went out +at the door; 'to leave me alone wi' her!' + +As she looked at him, saying, 'Stephen?' he went down on his knee +before her, on the poor mean stairs, and put an end of her shawl to +his lips. + +'Thou art an Angel. Bless thee, bless thee!' + +'I am, as I have told thee, Stephen, thy poor friend. Angels are +not like me. Between them, and a working woman fu' of faults, +there is a deep gulf set. My little sister is among them, but she +is changed.' + +She raised her eyes for a moment as she said the words; and then +they fell again, in all their gentleness and mildness, on his face. + +'Thou changest me from bad to good. Thou mak'st me humbly wishfo' +to be more like thee, and fearfo' to lose thee when this life is +ower, and a' the muddle cleared awa'. Thou'rt an Angel; it may be, +thou hast saved my soul alive!' + +She looked at him, on his knee at her feet, with her shawl still in +his hand, and the reproof on her lips died away when she saw the +working of his face. + +'I coom home desp'rate. I coom home wi'out a hope, and mad wi' +thinking that when I said a word o' complaint I was reckoned a +unreasonable Hand. I told thee I had had a fright. It were the +Poison-bottle on table. I never hurt a livin' creetur; but +happenin' so suddenly upon 't, I thowt, "How can I say what I might +ha' done to myseln, or her, or both!"' + +She put her two hands on his mouth, with a face of terror, to stop +him from saying more. He caught them in his unoccupied hand, and +holding them, and still clasping the border of her shawl, said +hurriedly: + +'But I see thee, Rachael, setten by the bed. I ha' seen thee, aw +this night. In my troublous sleep I ha' known thee still to be +there. Evermore I will see thee there. I nevermore will see her +or think o' her, but thou shalt be beside her. I nevermore will +see or think o' anything that angers me, but thou, so much better +than me, shalt be by th' side on't. And so I will try t' look t' +th' time, and so I will try t' trust t' th' time, when thou and me +at last shall walk together far awa', beyond the deep gulf, in th' +country where thy little sister is.' + +He kissed the border of her shawl again, and let her go. She bade +him good night in a broken voice, and went out into the street. + +The wind blew from the quarter where the day would soon appear, and +still blew strongly. It had cleared the sky before it, and the +rain had spent itself or travelled elsewhere, and the stars were +bright. He stood bare-headed in the road, watching her quick +disappearance. As the shining stars were to the heavy candle in +the window, so was Rachael, in the rugged fancy of this man, to the +common experiences of his life. + + + +CHAPTER XIV - THE GREAT MANUFACTURER + + + +TIME went on in Coketown like its own machinery: so much material +wrought up, so much fuel consumed, so many powers worn out, so much +money made. But, less inexorable than iron, steel, and brass, it +brought its varying seasons even into that wilderness of smoke and +brick, and made the only stand that ever was made in the place +against its direful uniformity. + +'Louisa is becoming,' said Mr. Gradgrind, 'almost a young woman.' + +Time, with his innumerable horse-power, worked away, not minding +what anybody said, and presently turned out young Thomas a foot +taller than when his father had last taken particular notice of +him. + +'Thomas is becoming,' said Mr. Gradgrind, 'almost a young man.' + +Time passed Thomas on in the mill, while his father was thinking +about it, and there he stood in a long-tailed coat and a stiff +shirt-collar. + +'Really,' said Mr. Gradgrind, 'the period has arrived when Thomas +ought to go to Bounderby.' + +Time, sticking to him, passed him on into Bounderby's Bank, made +him an inmate of Bounderby's house, necessitated the purchase of +his first razor, and exercised him diligently in his calculations +relative to number one. + +The same great manufacturer, always with an immense variety of work +on hand, in every stage of development, passed Sissy onward in his +mill, and worked her up into a very pretty article indeed. + +'I fear, Jupe,' said Mr. Gradgrind, 'that your continuance at the +school any longer would be useless.' + +'I am afraid it would, sir,' Sissy answered with a curtsey. + +'I cannot disguise from you, Jupe,' said Mr. Gradgrind, knitting +his brow, 'that the result of your probation there has disappointed +me; has greatly disappointed me. You have not acquired, under Mr. +and Mrs. M'Choakumchild, anything like that amount of exact +knowledge which I looked for. You are extremely deficient in your +facts. Your acquaintance with figures is very limited. You are +altogether backward, and below the mark.' + +'I am sorry, sir,' she returned; 'but I know it is quite true. Yet +I have tried hard, sir.' + +'Yes,' said Mr. Gradgrind, 'yes, I believe you have tried hard; I +have observed you, and I can find no fault in that respect.' + +'Thank you, sir. I have thought sometimes;' Sissy very timid here; +'that perhaps I tried to learn too much, and that if I had asked to +be allowed to try a little less, I might have - ' + +'No, Jupe, no,' said Mr. Gradgrind, shaking his head in his +profoundest and most eminently practical way. 'No. The course you +pursued, you pursued according to the system - the system - and +there is no more to be said about it. I can only suppose that the +circumstances of your early life were too unfavourable to the +development of your reasoning powers, and that we began too late. +Still, as I have said already, I am disappointed.' + +'I wish I could have made a better acknowledgment, sir, of your +kindness to a poor forlorn girl who had no claim upon you, and of +your protection of her.' + +'Don't shed tears,' said Mr. Gradgrind. 'Don't shed tears. I +don't complain of you. You are an affectionate, earnest, good +young woman - and - and we must make that do.' + +'Thank you, sir, very much,' said Sissy, with a grateful curtsey. + +'You are useful to Mrs. Gradgrind, and (in a generally pervading +way) you are serviceable in the family also; so I understand from +Miss Louisa, and, indeed, so I have observed myself. I therefore +hope,' said Mr. Gradgrind, 'that you can make yourself happy in +those relations.' + +'I should have nothing to wish, sir, if - ' + +'I understand you,' said Mr. Gradgrind; 'you still refer to your +father. I have heard from Miss Louisa that you still preserve that +bottle. Well! If your training in the science of arriving at +exact results had been more successful, you would have been wiser +on these points. I will say no more.' + +He really liked Sissy too well to have a contempt for her; +otherwise he held her calculating powers in such very slight +estimation that he must have fallen upon that conclusion. Somehow +or other, he had become possessed by an idea that there was +something in this girl which could hardly be set forth in a tabular +form. Her capacity of definition might be easily stated at a very +low figure, her mathematical knowledge at nothing; yet he was not +sure that if he had been required, for example, to tick her off +into columns in a parliamentary return, he would have quite known +how to divide her. + +In some stages of his manufacture of the human fabric, the +processes of Time are very rapid. Young Thomas and Sissy being +both at such a stage of their working up, these changes were +effected in a year or two; while Mr. Gradgrind himself seemed +stationary in his course, and underwent no alteration. + +Except one, which was apart from his necessary progress through the +mill. Time hustled him into a little noisy and rather dirty +machinery, in a by-comer, and made him Member of Parliament for +Coketown: one of the respected members for ounce weights and +measures, one of the representatives of the multiplication table, +one of the deaf honourable gentlemen, dumb honourable gentlemen, +blind honourable gentlemen, lame honourable gentlemen, dead +honourable gentlemen, to every other consideration. Else wherefore +live we in a Christian land, eighteen hundred and odd years after +our Master? + +All this while, Louisa had been passing on, so quiet and reserved, +and so much given to watching the bright ashes at twilight as they +fell into the grate, and became extinct, that from the period when +her father had said she was almost a young woman - which seemed but +yesterday - she had scarcely attracted his notice again, when he +found her quite a young woman. + +'Quite a young woman,' said Mr. Gradgrind, musing. 'Dear me!' + +Soon after this discovery, he became more thoughtful than usual for +several days, and seemed much engrossed by one subject. On a +certain night, when he was going out, and Louisa came to bid him +good-bye before his departure - as he was not to be home until late +and she would not see him again until the morning - he held her in +his arms, looking at her in his kindest manner, and said: + +'My dear Louisa, you are a woman!' + +She answered with the old, quick, searching look of the night when +she was found at the Circus; then cast down her eyes. 'Yes, +father.' + +'My dear,' said Mr. Gradgrind, 'I must speak with you alone and +seriously. Come to me in my room after breakfast to-morrow, will +you?' + +'Yes, father.' + +'Your hands are rather cold, Louisa. Are you not well?' + +'Quite well, father.' + +'And cheerful?' + +She looked at him again, and smiled in her peculiar manner. 'I am +as cheerful, father, as I usually am, or usually have been.' + +'That's well,' said Mr. Gradgrind. So, he kissed her and went +away; and Louisa returned to the serene apartment of the +haircutting character, and leaning her elbow on her hand, looked +again at the short-lived sparks that so soon subsided into ashes. + +'Are you there, Loo?' said her brother, looking in at the door. He +was quite a young gentleman of pleasure now, and not quite a +prepossessing one. + +'Dear Tom,' she answered, rising and embracing him, 'how long it is +since you have been to see me!' + +'Why, I have been otherwise engaged, Loo, in the evenings; and in +the daytime old Bounderby has been keeping me at it rather. But I +touch him up with you when he comes it too strong, and so we +preserve an understanding. I say! Has father said anything +particular to you to-day or yesterday, Loo?' + +'No, Tom. But he told me to-night that he wished to do so in the +morning.' + +'Ah! That's what I mean,' said Tom. 'Do you know where he is to- +night?' - with a very deep expression. + +'No.' + +'Then I'll tell you. He's with old Bounderby. They are having a +regular confab together up at the Bank. Why at the Bank, do you +think? Well, I'll tell you again. To keep Mrs. Sparsit's ears as +far off as possible, I expect.' + +With her hand upon her brother's shoulder, Louisa still stood +looking at the fire. Her brother glanced at her face with greater +interest than usual, and, encircling her waist with his arm, drew +her coaxingly to him. + +'You are very fond of me, an't you, Loo?' + +'Indeed I am, Tom, though you do let such long intervals go by +without coming to see me.' + +'Well, sister of mine,' said Tom, 'when you say that, you are near +my thoughts. We might be so much oftener together - mightn't we? +Always together, almost - mightn't we? It would do me a great deal +of good if you were to make up your mind to I know what, Loo. It +would be a splendid thing for me. It would be uncommonly jolly!' + +Her thoughtfulness baffled his cunning scrutiny. He could make +nothing of her face. He pressed her in his arm, and kissed her +cheek. She returned the kiss, but still looked at the fire. + +'I say, Loo! I thought I'd come, and just hint to you what was +going on: though I supposed you'd most likely guess, even if you +didn't know. I can't stay, because I'm engaged to some fellows to- +night. You won't forget how fond you are of me?' + +'No, dear Tom, I won't forget.' + +'That's a capital girl,' said Tom. 'Good-bye, Loo.' + +She gave him an affectionate good-night, and went out with him to +the door, whence the fires of Coketown could be seen, making the +distance lurid. She stood there, looking steadfastly towards them, +and listening to his departing steps. They retreated quickly, as +glad to get away from Stone Lodge; and she stood there yet, when he +was gone and all was quiet. It seemed as if, first in her own fire +within the house, and then in the fiery haze without, she tried to +discover what kind of woof Old Time, that greatest and longest- +established Spinner of all, would weave from the threads he had +already spun into a woman. But his factory is a secret place, his +work is noiseless, and his Hands are mutes. + + + +CHAPTER XV - FATHER AND DAUGHTER + + + +ALTHOUGH Mr. Gradgrind did not take after Blue Beard, his room was +quite a blue chamber in its abundance of blue books. Whatever they +could prove (which is usually anything you like), they proved +there, in an army constantly strengthening by the arrival of new +recruits. In that charmed apartment, the most complicated social +questions were cast up, got into exact totals, and finally settled +- if those concerned could only have been brought to know it. As +if an astronomical observatory should be made without any windows, +and the astronomer within should arrange the starry universe solely +by pen, ink, and paper, so Mr. Gradgrind, in his Observatory (and +there are many like it), had no need to cast an eye upon the +teeming myriads of human beings around him, but could settle all +their destinies on a slate, and wipe out all their tears with one +dirty little bit of sponge. + +To this Observatory, then: a stern room, with a deadly statistical +clock in it, which measured every second with a beat like a rap +upon a coffin-lid; Louisa repaired on the appointed morning. A +window looked towards Coketown; and when she sat down near her +father's table, she saw the high chimneys and the long tracts of +smoke looming in the heavy distance gloomily. + +'My dear Louisa,' said her father, 'I prepared you last night to +give me your serious attention in the conversation we are now going +to have together. You have been so well trained, and you do, I am +happy to say, so much justice to the education you have received, +that I have perfect confidence in your good sense. You are not +impulsive, you are not romantic, you are accustomed to view +everything from the strong dispassionate ground of reason and +calculation. From that ground alone, I know you will view and +consider what I am going to communicate.' + +He waited, as if he would have been glad that she said something. +But she said never a word. + +'Louisa, my dear, you are the subject of a proposal of marriage +that has been made to me.' + +Again he waited, and again she answered not one word. This so far +surprised him, as to induce him gently to repeat, 'a proposal of +marriage, my dear.' To which she returned, without any visible +emotion whatever: + +'I hear you, father. I am attending, I assure you.' + +'Well!' said Mr. Gradgrind, breaking into a smile, after being for +the moment at a loss, 'you are even more dispassionate than I +expected, Louisa. Or, perhaps, you are not unprepared for the +announcement I have it in charge to make?' + +'I cannot say that, father, until I hear it. Prepared or +unprepared, I wish to hear it all from you. I wish to hear you +state it to me, father.' + +Strange to relate, Mr. Gradgrind was not so collected at this +moment as his daughter was. He took a paper-knife in his hand, +turned it over, laid it down, took it up again, and even then had +to look along the blade of it, considering how to go on. + +'What you say, my dear Louisa, is perfectly reasonable. I have +undertaken then to let you know that - in short, that Mr. Bounderby +has informed me that he has long watched your progress with +particular interest and pleasure, and has long hoped that the time +might ultimately arrive when he should offer you his hand in +marriage. That time, to which he has so long, and certainly with +great constancy, looked forward, is now come. Mr. Bounderby has +made his proposal of marriage to me, and has entreated me to make +it known to you, and to express his hope that you will take it into +your favourable consideration.' + +Silence between them. The deadly statistical clock very hollow. +The distant smoke very black and heavy. + +'Father,' said Louisa, 'do you think I love Mr. Bounderby?' + +Mr. Gradgrind was extremely discomfited by this unexpected +question. 'Well, my child,' he returned, 'I - really - cannot take +upon myself to say.' + +'Father,' pursued Louisa in exactly the same voice as before, 'do +you ask me to love Mr. Bounderby?' + +'My dear Louisa, no. No. I ask nothing.' + +'Father,' she still pursued, 'does Mr. Bounderby ask me to love +him?' + +'Really, my dear,' said Mr. Gradgrind, 'it is difficult to answer +your question - ' + +'Difficult to answer it, Yes or No, father? + +'Certainly, my dear. Because;' here was something to demonstrate, +and it set him up again; 'because the reply depends so materially, +Louisa, on the sense in which we use the expression. Now, Mr. +Bounderby does not do you the injustice, and does not do himself +the injustice, of pretending to anything fanciful, fantastic, or (I +am using synonymous terms) sentimental. Mr. Bounderby would have +seen you grow up under his eyes, to very little purpose, if he +could so far forget what is due to your good sense, not to say to +his, as to address you from any such ground. Therefore, perhaps +the expression itself - I merely suggest this to you, my dear - may +be a little misplaced.' + +'What would you advise me to use in its stead, father?' + +'Why, my dear Louisa,' said Mr. Gradgrind, completely recovered by +this time, 'I would advise you (since you ask me) to consider this +question, as you have been accustomed to consider every other +question, simply as one of tangible Fact. The ignorant and the +giddy may embarrass such subjects with irrelevant fancies, and +other absurdities that have no existence, properly viewed - really +no existence - but it is no compliment to you to say, that you know +better. Now, what are the Facts of this case? You are, we will +say in round numbers, twenty years of age; Mr. Bounderby is, we +will say in round numbers, fifty. There is some disparity in your +respective years, but in your means and positions there is none; on +the contrary, there is a great suitability. Then the question +arises, Is this one disparity sufficient to operate as a bar to +such a marriage? In considering this question, it is not +unimportant to take into account the statistics of marriage, so far +as they have yet been obtained, in England and Wales. I find, on +reference to the figures, that a large proportion of these +marriages are contracted between parties of very unequal ages, and +that the elder of these contracting parties is, in rather more than +three-fourths of these instances, the bridegroom. It is remarkable +as showing the wide prevalence of this law, that among the natives +of the British possessions in India, also in a considerable part of +China, and among the Calmucks of Tartary, the best means of +computation yet furnished us by travellers, yield similar results. +The disparity I have mentioned, therefore, almost ceases to be +disparity, and (virtually) all but disappears.' + +'What do you recommend, father,' asked Louisa, her reserved +composure not in the least affected by these gratifying results, +'that I should substitute for the term I used just now? For the +misplaced expression?' + +'Louisa,' returned her father, 'it appears to me that nothing can +be plainer. Confining yourself rigidly to Fact, the question of +Fact you state to yourself is: Does Mr. Bounderby ask me to marry +him? Yes, he does. The sole remaining question then is: Shall I +marry him? I think nothing can be plainer than that?' + +'Shall I marry him?' repeated Louisa, with great deliberation. + +'Precisely. And it is satisfactory to me, as your father, my dear +Louisa, to know that you do not come to the consideration of that +question with the previous habits of mind, and habits of life, that +belong to many young women.' + +'No, father,' she returned, 'I do not.' + +'I now leave you to judge for yourself,' said Mr. Gradgrind. 'I +have stated the case, as such cases are usually stated among +practical minds; I have stated it, as the case of your mother and +myself was stated in its time. The rest, my dear Louisa, is for +you to decide.' + +From the beginning, she had sat looking at him fixedly. As he now +leaned back in his chair, and bent his deep-set eyes upon her in +his turn, perhaps he might have seen one wavering moment in her, +when she was impelled to throw herself upon his breast, and give +him the pent-up confidences of her heart. But, to see it, he must +have overleaped at a bound the artificial barriers he had for many +years been erecting, between himself and all those subtle essences +of humanity which will elude the utmost cunning of algebra until +the last trumpet ever to be sounded shall blow even algebra to +wreck. The barriers were too many and too high for such a leap. +With his unbending, utilitarian, matter-of-fact face, he hardened +her again; and the moment shot away into the plumbless depths of +the past, to mingle with all the lost opportunities that are +drowned there. + +Removing her eyes from him, she sat so long looking silently +towards the town, that he said, at length: 'Are you consulting the +chimneys of the Coketown works, Louisa?' + +'There seems to be nothing there but languid and monotonous smoke. +Yet when the night comes, Fire bursts out, father!' she answered, +turning quickly. + +'Of course I know that, Louisa. I do not see the application of +the remark.' To do him justice he did not, at all. + +She passed it away with a slight motion of her hand, and +concentrating her attention upon him again, said, 'Father, I have +often thought that life is very short.' - This was so distinctly +one of his subjects that he interposed. + +'It is short, no doubt, my dear. Still, the average duration of +human life is proved to have increased of late years. The +calculations of various life assurance and annuity offices, among +other figures which cannot go wrong, have established the fact.' + +'I speak of my own life, father.' + +'O indeed? Still,' said Mr. Gradgrind, 'I need not point out to +you, Louisa, that it is governed by the laws which govern lives in +the aggregate.' + +'While it lasts, I would wish to do the little I can, and the +little I am fit for. What does it matter?' + +Mr. Gradgrind seemed rather at a loss to understand the last four +words; replying, 'How, matter? What matter, my dear?' + +'Mr. Bounderby,' she went on in a steady, straight way, without +regarding this, 'asks me to marry him. The question I have to ask +myself is, shall I marry him? That is so, father, is it not? You +have told me so, father. Have you not?' + +'Certainly, my dear.' + +'Let it be so. Since Mr. Bounderby likes to take me thus, I am +satisfied to accept his proposal. Tell him, father, as soon as you +please, that this was my answer. Repeat it, word for word, if you +can, because I should wish him to know what I said.' + +'It is quite right, my dear,' retorted her father approvingly, 'to +be exact. I will observe your very proper request. Have you any +wish in reference to the period of your marriage, my child?' + +'None, father. What does it matter!' + +Mr. Gradgrind had drawn his chair a little nearer to her, and taken +her hand. But, her repetition of these words seemed to strike with +some little discord on his ear. He paused to look at her, and, +still holding her hand, said: + +'Louisa, I have not considered it essential to ask you one +question, because the possibility implied in it appeared to me to +be too remote. But perhaps I ought to do so. You have never +entertained in secret any other proposal?' + +'Father,' she returned, almost scornfully, 'what other proposal can +have been made to me? Whom have I seen? Where have I been? What +are my heart's experiences?' + +'My dear Louisa,' returned Mr. Gradgrind, reassured and satisfied. +'You correct me justly. I merely wished to discharge my duty.' + +'What do I know, father,' said Louisa in her quiet manner, 'of +tastes and fancies; of aspirations and affections; of all that part +of my nature in which such light things might have been nourished? +What escape have I had from problems that could be demonstrated, +and realities that could be grasped?' As she said it, she +unconsciously closed her hand, as if upon a solid object, and +slowly opened it as though she were releasing dust or ash. + +'My dear,' assented her eminently practical parent, 'quite true, +quite true.' + +'Why, father,' she pursued, 'what a strange question to ask me! +The baby-preference that even I have heard of as common among +children, has never had its innocent resting-place in my breast. +You have been so careful of me, that I never had a child's heart. +You have trained me so well, that I never dreamed a child's dream. +You have dealt so wisely with me, father, from my cradle to this +hour, that I never had a child's belief or a child's fear.' + +Mr. Gradgrind was quite moved by his success, and by this testimony +to it. 'My dear Louisa,' said he, 'you abundantly repay my care. +Kiss me, my dear girl.' + +So, his daughter kissed him. Detaining her in his embrace, he +said, 'I may assure you now, my favourite child, that I am made +happy by the sound decision at which you have arrived. Mr. +Bounderby is a very remarkable man; and what little disparity can +be said to exist between you - if any - is more than +counterbalanced by the tone your mind has acquired. It has always +been my object so to educate you, as that you might, while still in +your early youth, be (if I may so express myself) almost any age. +Kiss me once more, Louisa. Now, let us go and find your mother.' + +Accordingly, they went down to the drawing-room, where the esteemed +lady with no nonsense about her, was recumbent as usual, while +Sissy worked beside her. She gave some feeble signs of returning +animation when they entered, and presently the faint transparency +was presented in a sitting attitude. + +'Mrs. Gradgrind,' said her husband, who had waited for the +achievement of this feat with some impatience, 'allow me to present +to you Mrs. Bounderby.' + +'Oh!' said Mrs. Gradgrind, 'so you have settled it! Well, I'm sure +I hope your health may be good, Louisa; for if your head begins to +split as soon as you are married, which was the case with mine, I +cannot consider that you are to be envied, though I have no doubt +you think you are, as all girls do. However, I give you joy, my +dear - and I hope you may now turn all your ological studies to +good account, I am sure I do! I must give you a kiss of +congratulation, Louisa; but don't touch my right shoulder, for +there's something running down it all day long. And now you see,' +whimpered Mrs. Gradgrind, adjusting her shawls after the +affectionate ceremony, 'I shall be worrying myself, morning, noon, +and night, to know what I am to call him!' + +'Mrs. Gradgrind,' said her husband, solemnly, 'what do you mean?' + +'Whatever I am to call him, Mr. Gradgrind, when he is married to +Louisa! I must call him something. It's impossible,' said Mrs. +Gradgrind, with a mingled sense of politeness and injury, 'to be +constantly addressing him and never giving him a name. I cannot +call him Josiah, for the name is insupportable to me. You yourself +wouldn't hear of Joe, you very well know. Am I to call my own son- +in-law, Mister! Not, I believe, unless the time has arrived when, +as an invalid, I am to be trampled upon by my relations. Then, +what am I to call him!' + +Nobody present having any suggestion to offer in the remarkable +emergency, Mrs. Gradgrind departed this life for the time being, +after delivering the following codicil to her remarks already +executed: + +'As to the wedding, all I ask, Louisa, is, - and I ask it with a +fluttering in my chest, which actually extends to the soles of my +feet, - that it may take place soon. Otherwise, I know it is one +of those subjects I shall never hear the last of.' + +When Mr. Gradgrind had presented Mrs. Bounderby, Sissy had suddenly +turned her head, and looked, in wonder, in pity, in sorrow, in +doubt, in a multitude of emotions, towards Louisa. Louisa had +known it, and seen it, without looking at her. From that moment +she was impassive, proud and cold - held Sissy at a distance - +changed to her altogether. + + + +CHAPTER XVI - HUSBAND AND WIFE + + + +MR. BOUNDERBY'S first disquietude on hearing of his happiness, was +occasioned by the necessity of imparting it to Mrs. Sparsit. He +could not make up his mind how to do that, or what the consequences +of the step might be. Whether she would instantly depart, bag and +baggage, to Lady Scadgers, or would positively refuse to budge from +the premises; whether she would be plaintive or abusive, tearful or +tearing; whether she would break her heart, or break the looking- +glass; Mr. Bounderby could not all foresee. However, as it must be +done, he had no choice but to do it; so, after attempting several +letters, and failing in them all, he resolved to do it by word of +mouth. + +On his way home, on the evening he set aside for this momentous +purpose, he took the precaution of stepping into a chemist's shop +and buying a bottle of the very strongest smelling-salts. 'By +George!' said Mr. Bounderby, 'if she takes it in the fainting way, +I'll have the skin off her nose, at all events!' But, in spite of +being thus forearmed, he entered his own house with anything but a +courageous air; and appeared before the object of his misgivings, +like a dog who was conscious of coming direct from the pantry. + +'Good evening, Mr. Bounderby!' + +'Good evening, ma'am, good evening.' He drew up his chair, and +Mrs. Sparsit drew back hers, as who should say, 'Your fireside, +sir. I freely admit it. It is for you to occupy it all, if you +think proper.' + +'Don't go to the North Pole, ma'am!' said Mr. Bounderby. + +'Thank you, sir,' said Mrs. Sparsit, and returned, though short of +her former position. + +Mr. Bounderby sat looking at her, as, with the points of a stiff, +sharp pair of scissors, she picked out holes for some inscrutable +ornamental purpose, in a piece of cambric. An operation which, +taken in connexion with the bushy eyebrows and the Roman nose, +suggested with some liveliness the idea of a hawk engaged upon the +eyes of a tough little bird. She was so steadfastly occupied, that +many minutes elapsed before she looked up from her work; when she +did so Mr. Bounderby bespoke her attention with a hitch of his +head. + +'Mrs. Sparsit, ma'am,' said Mr. Bounderby, putting his hands in his +pockets, and assuring himself with his right hand that the cork of +the little bottle was ready for use, 'I have no occasion to say to +you, that you are not only a lady born and bred, but a devilish +sensible woman.' + +'Sir,' returned the lady, 'this is indeed not the first time that +you have honoured me with similar expressions of your good +opinion.' + +'Mrs. Sparsit, ma'am,' said Mr. Bounderby, 'I am going to astonish +you.' + +'Yes, sir?' returned Mrs. Sparsit, interrogatively, and in the most +tranquil manner possible. She generally wore mittens, and she now +laid down her work, and smoothed those mittens. + +'I am going, ma'am,' said Bounderby, 'to marry Tom Gradgrind's +daughter.' + +'Yes, sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit. 'I hope you may be happy, Mr. +Bounderby. Oh, indeed I hope you may be happy, sir!' And she said +it with such great condescension as well as with such great +compassion for him, that Bounderby, - far more disconcerted than if +she had thrown her workbox at the mirror, or swooned on the +hearthrug, - corked up the smelling-salts tight in his pocket, and +thought, 'Now confound this woman, who could have even guessed that +she would take it in this way!' + +'I wish with all my heart, sir,' said Mrs. Sparsit, in a highly +superior manner; somehow she seemed, in a moment, to have +established a right to pity him ever afterwards; 'that you may be +in all respects very happy.' + +'Well, ma'am,' returned Bounderby, with some resentment in his +tone: which was clearly lowered, though in spite of himself, 'I am +obliged to you. I hope I shall be.' + +'Do you, sir!' said Mrs. Sparsit, with great affability. 'But +naturally you do; of course you do.' + +A very awkward pause on Mr. Bounderby's part, succeeded. Mrs. +Sparsit sedately resumed her work and occasionally gave a small +cough, which sounded like the cough of conscious strength and +forbearance. + +'Well, ma'am,' resumed Bounderby, 'under these circumstances, I +imagine it would not be agreeable to a character like yours to +remain here, though you would be very welcome here.' + +'Oh, dear no, sir, I could on no account think of that!' Mrs. +Sparsit shook her head, still in her highly superior manner, and a +little changed the small cough - coughing now, as if the spirit of +prophecy rose within her, but had better be coughed down. + +'However, ma'am,' said Bounderby, 'there are apartments at the +Bank, where a born and bred lady, as keeper of the place, would be +rather a catch than otherwise; and if the same terms - ' + +'I beg your pardon, sir. You were so good as to promise that you +would always substitute the phrase, annual compliment.' + +'Well, ma'am, annual compliment. If the same annual compliment +would be acceptable there, why, I see nothing to part us, unless +you do.' + +'Sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit. 'The proposal is like yourself, and +if the position I shall assume at the Bank is one that I could +occupy without descending lower in the social scale - ' + +'Why, of course it is,' said Bounderby. 'If it was not, ma'am, you +don't suppose that I should offer it to a lady who has moved in the +society you have moved in. Not that I care for such society, you +know! But you do.' + +'Mr. Bounderby, you are very considerate.' + +'You'll have your own private apartments, and you'll have your +coals and your candles, and all the rest of it, and you'll have +your maid to attend upon you, and you'll have your light porter to +protect you, and you'll be what I take the liberty of considering +precious comfortable,' said Bounderby. + + 'Sir,' rejoined Mrs. Sparsit, 'say no more. In yielding up my +trust here, I shall not be freed from the necessity of eating the +bread of dependence:' she might have said the sweetbread, for that +delicate article in a savoury brown sauce was her favourite supper: +'and I would rather receive it from your hand, than from any other. +Therefore, sir, I accept your offer gratefully, and with many +sincere acknowledgments for past favours. And I hope, sir,' said +Mrs. Sparsit, concluding in an impressively compassionate manner, +'I fondly hope that Miss Gradgrind may be all you desire, and +deserve!' + +Nothing moved Mrs. Sparsit from that position any more. It was in +vain for Bounderby to bluster or to assert himself in any of his +explosive ways; Mrs. Sparsit was resolved to have compassion on +him, as a Victim. She was polite, obliging, cheerful, hopeful; +but, the more polite, the more obliging, the more cheerful, the +more hopeful, the more exemplary altogether, she; the forlorner +Sacrifice and Victim, he. She had that tenderness for his +melancholy fate, that his great red countenance used to break out +into cold perspirations when she looked at him. + +Meanwhile the marriage was appointed to be solemnized in eight +weeks' time, and Mr. Bounderby went every evening to Stone Lodge as +an accepted wooer. Love was made on these occasions in the form of +bracelets; and, on all occasions during the period of betrothal, +took a manufacturing aspect. Dresses were made, jewellery was +made, cakes and gloves were made, settlements were made, and an +extensive assortment of Facts did appropriate honour to the +contract. The business was all Fact, from first to last. The +Hours did not go through any of those rosy performances, which +foolish poets have ascribed to them at such times; neither did the +clocks go any faster, or any slower, than at other seasons. The +deadly statistical recorder in the Gradgrind observatory knocked +every second on the head as it was born, and buried it with his +accustomed regularity. + +So the day came, as all other days come to people who will only +stick to reason; and when it came, there were married in the church +of the florid wooden legs - that popular order of architecture - +Josiah Bounderby Esquire of Coketown, to Louisa eldest daughter of +Thomas Gradgrind Esquire of Stone Lodge, M.P. for that borough. +And when they were united in holy matrimony, they went home to +breakfast at Stone Lodge aforesaid. + +There was an improving party assembled on the auspicious occasion, +who knew what everything they had to eat and drink was made of, and +how it was imported or exported, and in what quantities, and in +what bottoms, whether native or foreign, and all about it. The +bridesmaids, down to little Jane Gradgrind, were, in an +intellectual point of view, fit helpmates for the calculating boy; +and there was no nonsense about any of the company. + +After breakfast, the bridegroom addressed them in the following +terms: + +'Ladies and gentlemen, I am Josiah Bounderby of Coketown. Since +you have done my wife and myself the honour of drinking our healths +and happiness, I suppose I must acknowledge the same; though, as +you all know me, and know what I am, and what my extraction was, +you won't expect a speech from a man who, when he sees a Post, says +"that's a Post," and when he sees a Pump, says "that's a Pump," and +is not to be got to call a Post a Pump, or a Pump a Post, or either +of them a Toothpick. If you want a speech this morning, my friend +and father-in-law, Tom Gradgrind, is a Member of Parliament, and +you know where to get it. I am not your man. However, if I feel a +little independent when I look around this table to-day, and +reflect how little I thought of marrying Tom Gradgrind's daughter +when I was a ragged street-boy, who never washed his face unless it +was at a pump, and that not oftener than once a fortnight, I hope I +may be excused. So, I hope you like my feeling independent; if you +don't, I can't help it. I do feel independent. Now I have +mentioned, and you have mentioned, that I am this day married to +Tom Gradgrind's daughter. I am very glad to be so. It has long +been my wish to be so. I have watched her bringing-up, and I +believe she is worthy of me. At the same time - not to deceive you +- I believe I am worthy of her. So, I thank you, on both our +parts, for the good-will you have shown towards us; and the best +wish I can give the unmarried part of the present company, is this: +I hope every bachelor may find as good a wife as I have found. And +I hope every spinster may find as good a husband as my wife has +found.' + +Shortly after which oration, as they were going on a nuptial trip +to Lyons, in order that Mr. Bounderby might take the opportunity of +seeing how the Hands got on in those parts, and whether they, too, +required to be fed with gold spoons; the happy pair departed for +the railroad. The bride, in passing down-stairs, dressed for her +journey, found Tom waiting for her - flushed, either with his +feelings, or the vinous part of the breakfast. + +'What a game girl you are, to be such a first-rate sister, Loo!' +whispered Tom. + +She clung to him as she should have clung to some far better nature +that day, and was a little shaken in her reserved composure for the +first time. + +'Old Bounderby's quite ready,' said Tom. 'Time's up. Good-bye! I +shall be on the look-out for you, when you come back. I say, my +dear Loo! AN'T it uncommonly jolly now!' + + +END OF THE FIRST BOOK + + + + +BOOK THE SECOND - REAPING + + + + +CHAPTER I - EFFECTS IN THE BANK + + + +A SUNNY midsummer day. There was such a thing sometimes, even in +Coketown. + +Seen from a distance in such weather, Coketown lay shrouded in a +haze of its own, which appeared impervious to the sun's rays. You +only knew the town was there, because you knew there could have +been no such sulky blotch upon the prospect without a town. A blur +of soot and smoke, now confusedly tending this way, now that way, +now aspiring to the vault of Heaven, now murkily creeping along the +earth, as the wind rose and fell, or changed its quarter: a dense +formless jumble, with sheets of cross light in it, that showed +nothing but masses of darkness:- Coketown in the distance was +suggestive of itself, though not a brick of it could be seen. + +The wonder was, it was there at all. It had been ruined so often, +that it was amazing how it had borne so many shocks. Surely there +never was such fragile china-ware as that of which the millers of +Coketown were made. Handle them never so lightly, and they fell to +pieces with such ease that you might suspect them of having been +flawed before. They were ruined, when they were required to send +labouring children to school; they were ruined when inspectors were +appointed to look into their works; they were ruined, when such +inspectors considered it doubtful whether they were quite justified +in chopping people up with their machinery; they were utterly +undone, when it was hinted that perhaps they need not always make +quite so much smoke. Besides Mr. Bounderby's gold spoon which was +generally received in Coketown, another prevalent fiction was very +popular there. It took the form of a threat. Whenever a +Coketowner felt he was ill-used - that is to say, whenever he was +not left entirely alone, and it was proposed to hold him +accountable for the consequences of any of his acts - he was sure +to come out with the awful menace, that he would 'sooner pitch his +property into the Atlantic.' This had terrified the Home Secretary +within an inch of his life, on several occasions. + +However, the Coketowners were so patriotic after all, that they +never had pitched their property into the Atlantic yet, but, on the +contrary, had been kind enough to take mighty good care of it. So +there it was, in the haze yonder; and it increased and multiplied. + +The streets were hot and dusty on the summer day, and the sun was +so bright that it even shone through the heavy vapour drooping over +Coketown, and could not be looked at steadily. Stokers emerged +from low underground doorways into factory yards, and sat on steps, +and posts, and palings, wiping their swarthy visages, and +contemplating coals. The whole town seemed to be frying in oil. +There was a stifling smell of hot oil everywhere. The steam- +engines shone with it, the dresses of the Hands were soiled with +it, the mills throughout their many stories oozed and trickled it. +The atmosphere of those Fairy palaces was like the breath of the +simoom: and their inhabitants, wasting with heat, toiled languidly +in the desert. But no temperature made the melancholy mad +elephants more mad or more sane. Their wearisome heads went up and +down at the same rate, in hot weather and cold, wet weather and +dry, fair weather and foul. The measured motion of their shadows +on the walls, was the substitute Coketown had to show for the +shadows of rustling woods; while, for the summer hum of insects, it +could offer, all the year round, from the dawn of Monday to the +night of Saturday, the whirr of shafts and wheels. + +Drowsily they whirred all through this sunny day, making the +passenger more sleepy and more hot as he passed the humming walls +of the mills. Sun-blinds, and sprinklings of water, a little +cooled the main streets and the shops; but the mills, and the +courts and alleys, baked at a fierce heat. Down upon the river +that was black and thick with dye, some Coketown boys who were at +large - a rare sight there - rowed a crazy boat, which made a +spumous track upon the water as it jogged along, while every dip of +an oar stirred up vile smells. But the sun itself, however +beneficent, generally, was less kind to Coketown than hard frost, +and rarely looked intently into any of its closer regions without +engendering more death than life. So does the eye of Heaven itself +become an evil eye, when incapable or sordid hands are interposed +between it and the things it looks upon to bless. + +Mrs. Sparsit sat in her afternoon apartment at the Bank, on the +shadier side of the frying street. Office-hours were over: and at +that period of the day, in warm weather, she usually embellished +with her genteel presence, a managerial board-room over the public +office. Her own private sitting-room was a story higher, at the +window of which post of observation she was ready, every morning, +to greet Mr. Bounderby, as he came across the road, with the +sympathizing recognition appropriate to a Victim. He had been +married now a year; and Mrs. Sparsit had never released him from +her determined pity a moment. + +The Bank offered no violence to the wholesome monotony of the town. +It was another red brick house, with black outside shutters, green +inside blinds, a black street-door up two white steps, a brazen +door-plate, and a brazen door-handle full stop. It was a size +larger than Mr. Bounderby's house, as other houses were from a size +to half-a-dozen sizes smaller; in all other particulars, it was +strictly according to pattern. + +Mrs. Sparsit was conscious that by coming in the evening-tide among +the desks and writing implements, she shed a feminine, not to say +also aristocratic, grace upon the office. Seated, with her +needlework or netting apparatus, at the window, she had a self- +laudatory sense of correcting, by her ladylike deportment, the rude +business aspect of the place. With this impression of her +interesting character upon her, Mrs. Sparsit considered herself, in +some sort, the Bank Fairy. The townspeople who, in their passing +and repassing, saw her there, regarded her as the Bank Dragon +keeping watch over the treasures of the mine. + +What those treasures were, Mrs. Sparsit knew as little as they did. +Gold and silver coin, precious paper, secrets that if divulged +would bring vague destruction upon vague persons (generally, +however, people whom she disliked), were the chief items in her +ideal catalogue thereof. For the rest, she knew that after office- +hours, she reigned supreme over all the office furniture, and over +a locked-up iron room with three locks, against the door of which +strong chamber the light porter laid his head every night, on a +truckle bed, that disappeared at cockcrow. Further, she was lady +paramount over certain vaults in the basement, sharply spiked off +from communication with the predatory world; and over the relics of +the current day's work, consisting of blots of ink, worn-out pens, +fragments of wafers, and scraps of paper torn so small, that +nothing interesting could ever be deciphered on them when Mrs. +Sparsit tried. Lastly, she was guardian over a little armoury of +cutlasses and carbines, arrayed in vengeful order above one of the +official chimney-pieces; and over that respectable tradition never +to be separated from a place of business claiming to be wealthy - a +row of fire-buckets - vessels calculated to be of no physical +utility on any occasion, but observed to exercise a fine moral +influence, almost equal to bullion, on most beholders. + +A deaf serving-woman and the light porter completed Mrs. Sparsit's +empire. The deaf serving-woman was rumoured to be wealthy; and a +saying had for years gone about among the lower orders of Coketown, +that she would be murdered some night when the Bank was shut, for +the sake of her money. It was generally considered, indeed, that +she had been due some time, and ought to have fallen long ago; but +she had kept her life, and her situation, with an ill-conditioned +tenacity that occasioned much offence and disappointment. + +Mrs. Sparsit's tea was just set for her on a pert little table, +with its tripod of legs in an attitude, which she insinuated after +office-hours, into the company of the stern, leathern-topped, long +board-table that bestrode the middle of the room. The light porter +placed the tea-tray on it, knuckling his forehead as a form of +homage. + +'Thank you, Bitzer,' said Mrs. Sparsit. + +'Thank you, ma'am,' returned the light porter. He was a very light +porter indeed; as light as in the days when he blinkingly defined a +horse, for girl number twenty. + +'All is shut up, Bitzer?' said Mrs. Sparsit. + +'All is shut up, ma'am.' + +'And what,' said Mrs. Sparsit, pouring out her tea, 'is the news of +the day? Anything?' + +'Well, ma'am, I can't say that I have heard anything particular. +Our people are a bad lot, ma'am; but that is no news, +unfortunately.' + +'What are the restless wretches doing now?' asked Mrs. Sparsit. + +'Merely going on in the old way, ma'am. Uniting, and leaguing, and +engaging to stand by one another.' + +'It is much to be regretted,' said Mrs. Sparsit, making her nose +more Roman and her eyebrows more Coriolanian in the strength of her +severity, 'that the united masters allow of any such class- +combinations.' + +'Yes, ma'am,' said Bitzer. + +'Being united themselves, they ought one and all to set their faces +against employing any man who is united with any other man,' said +Mrs. Sparsit. + +'They have done that, ma'am,' returned Bitzer; 'but it rather fell +through, ma'am.' + +'I do not pretend to understand these things,' said Mrs. Sparsit, +with dignity, 'my lot having been signally cast in a widely +different sphere; and Mr. Sparsit, as a Powler, being also quite +out of the pale of any such dissensions. I only know that these +people must be conquered, and that it's high time it was done, once +for all.' + +'Yes, ma'am,' returned Bitzer, with a demonstration of great +respect for Mrs. Sparsit's oracular authority. 'You couldn't put +it clearer, I am sure, ma'am.' + +As this was his usual hour for having a little confidential chat +with Mrs. Sparsit, and as he had already caught her eye and seen +that she was going to ask him something, he made a pretence of +arranging the rulers, inkstands, and so forth, while that lady went +on with her tea, glancing through the open window, down into the +street. + +'Has it been a busy day, Bitzer?' asked Mrs. Sparsit. + +'Not a very busy day, my lady. About an average day.' He now and +then slided into my lady, instead of ma'am, as an involuntary +acknowledgment of Mrs. Sparsit's personal dignity and claims to +reverence. + +'The clerks,' said Mrs. Sparsit, carefully brushing an +imperceptible crumb of bread and butter from her left-hand mitten, +'are trustworthy, punctual, and industrious, of course?' + +'Yes, ma'am, pretty fair, ma'am. With the usual exception.' + +He held the respectable office of general spy and informer in the +establishment, for which volunteer service he received a present at +Christmas, over and above his weekly wage. He had grown into an +extremely clear-headed, cautious, prudent young man, who was safe +to rise in the world. His mind was so exactly regulated, that he +had no affections or passions. All his proceedings were the result +of the nicest and coldest calculation; and it was not without cause +that Mrs. Sparsit habitually observed of him, that he was a young +man of the steadiest principle she had ever known. Having +satisfied himself, on his father's death, that his mother had a +right of settlement in Coketown, this excellent young economist had +asserted that right for her with such a steadfast adherence to the +principle of the case, that she had been shut up in the workhouse +ever since. It must be admitted that he allowed her half a pound +of tea a year, which was weak in him: first, because all gifts +have an inevitable tendency to pauperise the recipient, and +secondly, because his only reasonable transaction in that commodity +would have been to buy it for as little as he could possibly give, +and sell it for as much as he could possibly get; it having been +clearly ascertained by philosophers that in this is comprised the +whole duty of man - not a part of man's duty, but the whole. + +'Pretty fair, ma'am. With the usual exception, ma'am,' repeated +Bitzer. + +'Ah - h!' said Mrs. Sparsit, shaking her head over her tea-cup, and +taking a long gulp. + +'Mr. Thomas, ma'am, I doubt Mr. Thomas very much, ma'am, I don't +like his ways at all.' + +'Bitzer,' said Mrs. Sparsit, in a very impressive manner, 'do you +recollect my having said anything to you respecting names?' + +'I beg your pardon, ma'am. It's quite true that you did object to +names being used, and they're always best avoided.' + +'Please to remember that I have a charge here,' said Mrs. Sparsit, +with her air of state. 'I hold a trust here, Bitzer, under Mr. +Bounderby. However improbable both Mr. Bounderby and myself might +have deemed it years ago, that he would ever become my patron, +making me an annual compliment, I cannot but regard him in that +light. From Mr. Bounderby I have received every acknowledgment of +my social station, and every recognition of my family descent, that +I could possibly expect. More, far more. Therefore, to my patron +I will be scrupulously true. And I do not consider, I will not +consider, I cannot consider,' said Mrs. Sparsit, with a most +extensive stock on hand of honour and morality, 'that I should be +scrupulously true, if I allowed names to be mentioned under this +roof, that are unfortunately - most unfortunately - no doubt of +that - connected with his.' + +Bitzer knuckled his forehead again, and again begged pardon. + +'No, Bitzer,' continued Mrs. Sparsit, 'say an individual, and I +will hear you; say Mr. Thomas, and you must excuse me.' + +'With the usual exception, ma'am,' said Bitzer, trying back, 'of an +individual.' + +'Ah - h!' Mrs. Sparsit repeated the ejaculation, the shake of the +head over her tea-cup, and the long gulp, as taking up the +conversation again at the point where it had been interrupted. + +'An individual, ma'am,' said Bitzer, 'has never been what he ought +to have been, since he first came into the place. He is a +dissipated, extravagant idler. He is not worth his salt, ma'am. +He wouldn't get it either, if he hadn't a friend and relation at +court, ma'am!' + +'Ah - h!' said Mrs. Sparsit, with another melancholy shake of her +head. + +'I only hope, ma'am,' pursued Bitzer, 'that his friend and relation +may not supply him with the means of carrying on. Otherwise, +ma'am, we know out of whose pocket that money comes.' + +'Ah - h!' sighed Mrs. Sparsit again, with another melancholy shake +of her head. + +'He is to be pitied, ma'am. The last party I have alluded to, is +to be pitied, ma'am,' said Bitzer. + +'Yes, Bitzer,' said Mrs. Sparsit. 'I have always pitied the +delusion, always.' + +'As to an individual, ma'am,' said Bitzer, dropping his voice and +drawing nearer, 'he is as improvident as any of the people in this +town. And you know what their improvidence is, ma'am. No one +could wish to know it better than a lady of your eminence does.' + +'They would do well,' returned Mrs. Sparsit, 'to take example by +you, Bitzer.' + +'Thank you, ma'am. But, since you do refer to me, now look at me, +ma'am. I have put by a little, ma'am, already. That gratuity +which I receive at Christmas, ma'am: I never touch it. I don't +even go the length of my wages, though they're not high, ma'am. +Why can't they do as I have done, ma'am? What one person can do, +another can do.' + +This, again, was among the fictions of Coketown. Any capitalist +there, who had made sixty thousand pounds out of sixpence, always +professed to wonder why the sixty thousand nearest Hands didn't +each make sixty thousand pounds out of sixpence, and more or less +reproached them every one for not accomplishing the little feat. +What I did you can do. Why don't you go and do it? + +'As to their wanting recreations, ma'am,' said Bitzer, 'it's stuff +and nonsense. I don't want recreations. I never did, and I never +shall; I don't like 'em. As to their combining together; there are +many of them, I have no doubt, that by watching and informing upon +one another could earn a trifle now and then, whether in money or +good will, and improve their livelihood. Then, why don't they +improve it, ma'am! It's the first consideration of a rational +creature, and it's what they pretend to want.' + +'Pretend indeed!' said Mrs. Sparsit. + +'I am sure we are constantly hearing, ma'am, till it becomes quite +nauseous, concerning their wives and families,' said Bitzer. 'Why +look at me, ma'am! I don't want a wife and family. Why should +they?' + +'Because they are improvident,' said Mrs. Sparsit. + +'Yes, ma'am,' returned Bitzer, 'that's where it is. If they were +more provident and less perverse, ma'am, what would they do? They +would say, "While my hat covers my family," or "while my bonnet +covers my family," - as the case might be, ma'am - "I have only one +to feed, and that's the person I most like to feed."' + +'To be sure,' assented Mrs. Sparsit, eating muffin. + +'Thank you, ma'am,' said Bitzer, knuckling his forehead again, in +return for the favour of Mrs. Sparsit's improving conversation. +'Would you wish a little more hot water, ma'am, or is there +anything else that I could fetch you?' + +'Nothing just now, Bitzer.' + +'Thank you, ma'am. I shouldn't wish to disturb you at your meals, +ma'am, particularly tea, knowing your partiality for it,' said +Bitzer, craning a little to look over into the street from where he +stood; 'but there's a gentleman been looking up here for a minute +or so, ma'am, and he has come across as if he was going to knock. +That is his knock, ma'am, no doubt.' + +He stepped to the window; and looking out, and drawing in his head +again, confirmed himself with, 'Yes, ma'am. Would you wish the +gentleman to be shown in, ma'am?' + +'I don't know who it can be,' said Mrs. Sparsit, wiping her mouth +and arranging her mittens. + +'A stranger, ma'am, evidently.' + +'What a stranger can want at the Bank at this time of the evening, +unless he comes upon some business for which he is too late, I +don't know,' said Mrs. Sparsit, 'but I hold a charge in this +establishment from Mr. Bounderby, and I will never shrink from it. +If to see him is any part of the duty I have accepted, I will see +him. Use your own discretion, Bitzer.' + +Here the visitor, all unconscious of Mrs. Sparsit's magnanimous +words, repeated his knock so loudly that the light porter hastened +down to open the door; while Mrs. Sparsit took the precaution of +concealing her little table, with all its appliances upon it, in a +cupboard, and then decamped up-stairs, that she might appear, if +needful, with the greater dignity. + +'If you please, ma'am, the gentleman would wish to see you,' said +Bitzer, with his light eye at Mrs. Sparsit's keyhole. So, Mrs. +Sparsit, who had improved the interval by touching up her cap, took +her classical features down-stairs again, and entered the board- +room in the manner of a Roman matron going outside the city walls +to treat with an invading general. + +The visitor having strolled to the window, and being then engaged +in looking carelessly out, was as unmoved by this impressive entry +as man could possibly be. He stood whistling to himself with all +imaginable coolness, with his hat still on, and a certain air of +exhaustion upon him, in part arising from excessive summer, and in +part from excessive gentility. For it was to be seen with half an +eye that he was a thorough gentleman, made to the model of the +time; weary of everything, and putting no more faith in anything +than Lucifer. + +'I believe, sir,' quoth Mrs. Sparsit, 'you wished to see me.' + +'I beg your pardon,' he said, turning and removing his hat; 'pray +excuse me.' + +'Humph!' thought Mrs. Sparsit, as she made a stately bend. 'Five +and thirty, good-looking, good figure, good teeth, good voice, good +breeding, well-dressed, dark hair, bold eyes.' All which Mrs. +Sparsit observed in her womanly way - like the Sultan who put his +head in the pail of water - merely in dipping down and coming up +again. + +'Please to be seated, sir,' said Mrs. Sparsit. + +'Thank you. Allow me.' He placed a chair for her, but remained +himself carelessly lounging against the table. 'I left my servant +at the railway looking after the luggage - very heavy train and +vast quantity of it in the van - and strolled on, looking about me. +Exceedingly odd place. Will you allow me to ask you if it's always +as black as this?' + +'In general much blacker,' returned Mrs. Sparsit, in her +uncompromising way. + +'Is it possible! Excuse me: you are not a native, I think?' + +'No, sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit. 'It was once my good or ill +fortune, as it may be - before I became a widow - to move in a very +different sphere. My husband was a Powler.' + +'Beg your pardon, really!' said the stranger. 'Was - ?' + +Mrs. Sparsit repeated, 'A Powler.' + +'Powler Family,' said the stranger, after reflecting a few moments. +Mrs. Sparsit signified assent. The stranger seemed a little more +fatigued than before. + +'You must be very much bored here?' was the inference he drew from +the communication. + +'I am the servant of circumstances, sir,' said Mrs. Sparsit, 'and I +have long adapted myself to the governing power of my life.' + +'Very philosophical,' returned the stranger, 'and very exemplary +and laudable, and - ' It seemed to be scarcely worth his while to +finish the sentence, so he played with his watch-chain wearily. + +'May I be permitted to ask, sir,' said Mrs. Sparsit, 'to what I am +indebted for the favour of - ' + +'Assuredly,' said the stranger. 'Much obliged to you for reminding +me. I am the bearer of a letter of introduction to Mr. Bounderby, +the banker. Walking through this extraordinarily black town, while +they were getting dinner ready at the hotel, I asked a fellow whom +I met; one of the working people; who appeared to have been taking +a shower-bath of something fluffy, which I assume to be the raw +material - ' + +Mrs. Sparsit inclined her head. + +' - Raw material - where Mr. Bounderby, the banker, might reside. +Upon which, misled no doubt by the word Banker, he directed me to +the Bank. Fact being, I presume, that Mr. Bounderby the Banker +does not reside in the edifice in which I have the honour of +offering this explanation?' + +'No, sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit, 'he does not.' + +'Thank you. I had no intention of delivering my letter at the +present moment, nor have I. But strolling on to the Bank to kill +time, and having the good fortune to observe at the window,' +towards which he languidly waved his hand, then slightly bowed, 'a +lady of a very superior and agreeable appearance, I considered that +I could not do better than take the liberty of asking that lady +where Mr. Bounderby the Banker does live. Which I accordingly +venture, with all suitable apologies, to do.' + +The inattention and indolence of his manner were sufficiently +relieved, to Mrs. Sparsit's thinking, by a certain gallantry at +ease, which offered her homage too. Here he was, for instance, at +this moment, all but sitting on the table, and yet lazily bending +over her, as if he acknowledged an attraction in her that made her +charming - in her way. + +'Banks, I know, are always suspicious, and officially must be,' +said the stranger, whose lightness and smoothness of speech were +pleasant likewise; suggesting matter far more sensible and humorous +than it ever contained - which was perhaps a shrewd device of the +founder of this numerous sect, whosoever may have been that great +man: 'therefore I may observe that my letter - here it is - is +from the member for this place - Gradgrind - whom I have had the +pleasure of knowing in London.' + +Mrs. Sparsit recognized the hand, intimated that such confirmation +was quite unnecessary, and gave Mr. Bounderby's address, with all +needful clues and directions in aid. + +'Thousand thanks,' said the stranger. 'Of course you know the +Banker well?' + +'Yes, sir,' rejoined Mrs. Sparsit. 'In my dependent relation +towards him, I have known him ten years.' + +'Quite an eternity! I think he married Gradgrind's daughter?' + +'Yes,' said Mrs. Sparsit, suddenly compressing her mouth, 'he had +that - honour.' + +'The lady is quite a philosopher, I am told?' + +'Indeed, sir,' said Mrs. Sparsit. 'Is she?' + +'Excuse my impertinent curiosity,' pursued the stranger, fluttering +over Mrs. Sparsit's eyebrows, with a propitiatory air, 'but you +know the family, and know the world. I am about to know the +family, and may have much to do with them. Is the lady so very +alarming? Her father gives her such a portentously hard-headed +reputation, that I have a burning desire to know. Is she +absolutely unapproachable? Repellently and stunningly clever? I +see, by your meaning smile, you think not. You have poured balm +into my anxious soul. As to age, now. Forty? Five and thirty?' + +Mrs. Sparsit laughed outright. 'A chit,' said she. 'Not twenty +when she was married.' + +'I give you my honour, Mrs. Powler,' returned the stranger, +detaching himself from the table, 'that I never was so astonished +in my life!' + +It really did seem to impress him, to the utmost extent of his +capacity of being impressed. He looked at his informant for full a +quarter of a minute, and appeared to have the surprise in his mind +all the time. 'I assure you, Mrs. Powler,' he then said, much +exhausted, 'that the father's manner prepared me for a grim and +stony maturity. I am obliged to you, of all things, for correcting +so absurd a mistake. Pray excuse my intrusion. Many thanks. Good +day!' + +He bowed himself out; and Mrs. Sparsit, hiding in the window +curtain, saw him languishing down the street on the shady side of +the way, observed of all the town. + +'What do you think of the gentleman, Bitzer?' she asked the light +porter, when he came to take away. + +'Spends a deal of money on his dress, ma'am.' + +'It must be admitted,' said Mrs. Sparsit, 'that it's very +tasteful.' + +'Yes, ma'am,' returned Bitzer, 'if that's worth the money.' + +'Besides which, ma'am,' resumed Bitzer, while he was polishing the +table, 'he looks to me as if he gamed.' + +'It's immoral to game,' said Mrs. Sparsit. + +'It's ridiculous, ma'am,' said Bitzer, 'because the chances are +against the players.' + +Whether it was that the heat prevented Mrs. Sparsit from working, +or whether it was that her hand was out, she did no work that +night. She sat at the window, when the sun began to sink behind +the smoke; she sat there, when the smoke was burning red, when the +colour faded from it, when darkness seemed to rise slowly out of +the ground, and creep upward, upward, up to the house-tops, up the +church steeple, up to the summits of the factory chimneys, up to +the sky. Without a candle in the room, Mrs. Sparsit sat at the +window, with her hands before her, not thinking much of the sounds +of evening; the whooping of boys, the barking of dogs, the rumbling +of wheels, the steps and voices of passengers, the shrill street +cries, the clogs upon the pavement when it was their hour for going +by, the shutting-up of shop-shutters. Not until the light porter +announced that her nocturnal sweetbread was ready, did Mrs. Sparsit +arouse herself from her reverie, and convey her dense black +eyebrows - by that time creased with meditation, as if they needed +ironing out-up-stairs. + +'O, you Fool!' said Mrs. Sparsit, when she was alone at her supper. +Whom she meant, she did not say; but she could scarcely have meant +the sweetbread. + + + +CHAPTER II - MR. JAMES HARTHOUSE + + + +THE Gradgrind party wanted assistance in cutting the throats of the +Graces. They went about recruiting; and where could they enlist +recruits more hopefully, than among the fine gentlemen who, having +found out everything to be worth nothing, were equally ready for +anything? + +Moreover, the healthy spirits who had mounted to this sublime +height were attractive to many of the Gradgrind school. They liked +fine gentlemen; they pretended that they did not, but they did. +They became exhausted in imitation of them; and they yaw-yawed in +their speech like them; and they served out, with an enervated air, +the little mouldy rations of political economy, on which they +regaled their disciples. There never before was seen on earth such +a wonderful hybrid race as was thus produced. + +Among the fine gentlemen not regularly belonging to the Gradgrind +school, there was one of a good family and a better appearance, +with a happy turn of humour which had told immensely with the House +of Commons on the occasion of his entertaining it with his (and the +Board of Directors) view of a railway accident, in which the most +careful officers ever known, employed by the most liberal managers +ever heard of, assisted by the finest mechanical contrivances ever +devised, the whole in action on the best line ever constructed, had +killed five people and wounded thirty-two, by a casualty without +which the excellence of the whole system would have been positively +incomplete. Among the slain was a cow, and among the scattered +articles unowned, a widow's cap. And the honourable member had so +tickled the House (which has a delicate sense of humour) by putting +the cap on the cow, that it became impatient of any serious +reference to the Coroner's Inquest, and brought the railway off +with Cheers and Laughter. + +Now, this gentleman had a younger brother of still better +appearance than himself, who had tried life as a Cornet of +Dragoons, and found it a bore; and had afterwards tried it in the +train of an English minister abroad, and found it a bore; and had +then strolled to Jerusalem, and got bored there; and had then gone +yachting about the world, and got bored everywhere. To whom this +honourable and jocular, member fraternally said one day, 'Jem, +there's a good opening among the hard Fact fellows, and they want +men. I wonder you don't go in for statistics.' Jem, rather taken +by the novelty of the idea, and very hard up for a change, was as +ready to 'go in' for statistics as for anything else. So, he went +in. He coached himself up with a blue-book or two; and his brother +put it about among the hard Fact fellows, and said, 'If you want to +bring in, for any place, a handsome dog who can make you a devilish +good speech, look after my brother Jem, for he's your man.' After +a few dashes in the public meeting way, Mr. Gradgrind and a council +of political sages approved of Jem, and it was resolved to send him +down to Coketown, to become known there and in the neighbourhood. +Hence the letter Jem had last night shown to Mrs. Sparsit, which +Mr. Bounderby now held in his hand; superscribed, 'Josiah +Bounderby, Esquire, Banker, Coketown. Specially to introduce James +Harthouse, Esquire. Thomas Gradgrind.' + +Within an hour of the receipt of this dispatch and Mr. James +Harthouse's card, Mr. Bounderby put on his hat and went down to the +Hotel. There he found Mr. James Harthouse looking out of window, +in a state of mind so disconsolate, that he was already half- +disposed to 'go in' for something else. + +'My name, sir,' said his visitor, 'is Josiah Bounderby, of +Coketown.' + +Mr. James Harthouse was very happy indeed (though he scarcely +looked so) to have a pleasure he had long expected. + +'Coketown, sir,' said Bounderby, obstinately taking a chair, 'is +not the kind of place you have been accustomed to. Therefore, if +you will allow me - or whether you will or not, for I am a plain +man - I'll tell you something about it before we go any further.' + +Mr. Harthouse would be charmed. + +'Don't be too sure of that,' said Bounderby. 'I don't promise it. +First of all, you see our smoke. That's meat and drink to us. +It's the healthiest thing in the world in all respects, and +particularly for the lungs. If you are one of those who want us to +consume it, I differ from you. We are not going to wear the +bottoms of our boilers out any faster than we wear 'em out now, for +all the humbugging sentiment in Great Britain and Ireland.' + +By way of 'going in' to the fullest extent, Mr. Harthouse rejoined, +'Mr. Bounderby, I assure you I am entirely and completely of your +way of thinking. On conviction.' + +'I am glad to hear it,' said Bounderby. 'Now, you have heard a lot +of talk about the work in our mills, no doubt. You have? Very +good. I'll state the fact of it to you. It's the pleasantest work +there is, and it's the lightest work there is, and it's the best- +paid work there is. More than that, we couldn't improve the mills +themselves, unless we laid down Turkey carpets on the floors. +Which we're not a-going to do.' + +'Mr. Bounderby, perfectly right.' + +'Lastly,' said Bounderby, 'as to our Hands. There's not a Hand in +this town, sir, man, woman, or child, but has one ultimate object +in life. That object is, to be fed on turtle soup and venison with +a gold spoon. Now, they're not a-going - none of 'em - ever to be +fed on turtle soup and venison with a gold spoon. And now you know +the place.' + +Mr. Harthouse professed himself in the highest degree instructed +and refreshed, by this condensed epitome of the whole Coketown +question. + +'Why, you see,' replied Mr. Bounderby, 'it suits my disposition to +have a full understanding with a man, particularly with a public +man, when I make his acquaintance. I have only one thing more to +say to you, Mr. Harthouse, before assuring you of the pleasure with +which I shall respond, to the utmost of my poor ability, to my +friend Tom Gradgrind's letter of introduction. You are a man of +family. Don't you deceive yourself by supposing for a moment that +I am a man of family. I am a bit of dirty riff-raff, and a genuine +scrap of tag, rag, and bobtail.' + +If anything could have exalted Jem's interest in Mr. Bounderby, it +would have been this very circumstance. Or, so he told him. + +'So now,' said Bounderby, 'we may shake hands on equal terms. I +say, equal terms, because although I know what I am, and the exact +depth of the gutter I have lifted myself out of, better than any +man does, I am as proud as you are. I am just as proud as you are. +Having now asserted my independence in a proper manner, I may come +to how do you find yourself, and I hope you're pretty well.' + +The better, Mr. Harthouse gave him to understand as they shook +hands, for the salubrious air of Coketown. Mr. Bounderby received +the answer with favour. + +'Perhaps you know,' said he, 'or perhaps you don't know, I married +Tom Gradgrind's daughter. If you have nothing better to do than to +walk up town with me, I shall be glad to introduce you to Tom +Gradgrind's daughter.' + +'Mr. Bounderby,' said Jem, 'you anticipate my dearest wishes.' + +They went out without further discourse; and Mr. Bounderby piloted +the new acquaintance who so strongly contrasted with him, to the +private red brick dwelling, with the black outside shutters, the +green inside blinds, and the black street door up the two white +steps. In the drawing-room of which mansion, there presently +entered to them the most remarkable girl Mr. James Harthouse had +ever seen. She was so constrained, and yet so careless; so +reserved, and yet so watchful; so cold and proud, and yet so +sensitively ashamed of her husband's braggart humility - from which +she shrunk as if every example of it were a cut or a blow; that it +was quite a new sensation to observe her. In face she was no less +remarkable than in manner. Her features were handsome; but their +natural play was so locked up, that it seemed impossible to guess +at their genuine expression. Utterly indifferent, perfectly self- +reliant, never at a loss, and yet never at her ease, with her +figure in company with them there, and her mind apparently quite +alone - it was of no use 'going in' yet awhile to comprehend this +girl, for she baffled all penetration. + +From the mistress of the house, the visitor glanced to the house +itself. There was no mute sign of a woman in the room. No +graceful little adornment, no fanciful little device, however +trivial, anywhere expressed her influence. Cheerless and +comfortless, boastfully and doggedly rich, there the room stared at +its present occupants, unsoftened and unrelieved by the least trace +of any womanly occupation. As Mr. Bounderby stood in the midst of +his household gods, so those unrelenting divinities occupied their +places around Mr. Bounderby, and they were worthy of one another, +and well matched. + +'This, sir,' said Bounderby, 'is my wife, Mrs. Bounderby: Tom +Gradgrind's eldest daughter. Loo, Mr. James Harthouse. Mr. +Harthouse has joined your father's muster-roll. If he is not Tom +Gradgrind's colleague before long, I believe we shall at least hear +of him in connexion with one of our neighbouring towns. You +observe, Mr. Harthouse, that my wife is my junior. I don't know +what she saw in me to marry me, but she saw something in me, I +suppose, or she wouldn't have married me. She has lots of +expensive knowledge, sir, political and otherwise. If you want to +cram for anything, I should be troubled to recommend you to a +better adviser than Loo Bounderby.' + +To a more agreeable adviser, or one from whom he would be more +likely to learn, Mr. Harthouse could never be recommended. + +'Come!' said his host. 'If you're in the complimentary line, +you'll get on here, for you'll meet with no competition. I have +never been in the way of learning compliments myself, and I don't +profess to understand the art of paying 'em. In fact, despise 'em. +But, your bringing-up was different from mine; mine was a real +thing, by George! You're a gentleman, and I don't pretend to be +one. I am Josiah Bounderby of Coketown, and that's enough for me. +However, though I am not influenced by manners and station, Loo +Bounderby may be. She hadn't my advantages - disadvantages you +would call 'em, but I call 'em advantages - so you'll not waste +your power, I dare say.' + +'Mr. Bounderby,' said Jem, turning with a smile to Louisa, 'is a +noble animal in a comparatively natural state, quite free from the +harness in which a conventional hack like myself works.' + +'You respect Mr. Bounderby very much,' she quietly returned. 'It +is natural that you should.' + +He was disgracefully thrown out, for a gentleman who had seen so +much of the world, and thought, 'Now, how am I to take this?' + +'You are going to devote yourself, as I gather from what Mr. +Bounderby has said, to the service of your country. You have made +up your mind,' said Louisa, still standing before him where she had +first stopped - in all the singular contrariety of her self- +possession, and her being obviously very ill at ease - 'to show the +nation the way out of all its difficulties.' + +'Mrs. Bounderby,' he returned, laughing, 'upon my honour, no. I +will make no such pretence to you. I have seen a little, here and +there, up and down; I have found it all to be very worthless, as +everybody has, and as some confess they have, and some do not; and +I am going in for your respected father's opinions - really because +I have no choice of opinions, and may as well back them as anything +else.' + +'Have you none of your own?' asked Louisa. + +'I have not so much as the slightest predilection left. I assure +you I attach not the least importance to any opinions. The result +of the varieties of boredom I have undergone, is a conviction +(unless conviction is too industrious a word for the lazy sentiment +I entertain on the subject), that any set of ideas will do just as +much good as any other set, and just as much harm as any other set. +There's an English family with a charming Italian motto. What will +be, will be. It's the only truth going!' + +This vicious assumption of honesty in dishonesty - a vice so +dangerous, so deadly, and so common - seemed, he observed, a little +to impress her in his favour. He followed up the advantage, by +saying in his pleasantest manner: a manner to which she might +attach as much or as little meaning as she pleased: 'The side that +can prove anything in a line of units, tens, hundreds, and +thousands, Mrs. Bounderby, seems to me to afford the most fun, and +to give a man the best chance. I am quite as much attached to it +as if I believed it. I am quite ready to go in for it, to the same +extent as if I believed it. And what more could I possibly do, if +I did believe it!' + +'You are a singular politician,' said Louisa. + +'Pardon me; I have not even that merit. We are the largest party +in the state, I assure you, Mrs. Bounderby, if we all fell out of +our adopted ranks and were reviewed together.' + +Mr. Bounderby, who had been in danger of bursting in silence, +interposed here with a project for postponing the family dinner +till half-past six, and taking Mr. James Harthouse in the meantime +on a round of visits to the voting and interesting notabilities of +Coketown and its vicinity. The round of visits was made; and Mr. +James Harthouse, with a discreet use of his blue coaching, came off +triumphantly, though with a considerable accession of boredom. + +In the evening, he found the dinner-table laid for four, but they +sat down only three. It was an appropriate occasion for Mr. +Bounderby to discuss the flavour of the hap'orth of stewed eels he +had purchased in the streets at eight years old; and also of the +inferior water, specially used for laying the dust, with which he +had washed down that repast. He likewise entertained his guest +over the soup and fish, with the calculation that he (Bounderby) +had eaten in his youth at least three horses under the guise of +polonies and saveloys. These recitals, Jem, in a languid manner, +received with 'charming!' every now and then; and they probably +would have decided him to 'go in' for Jerusalem again to-morrow +morning, had he been less curious respecting Louisa. + +'Is there nothing,' he thought, glancing at her as she sat at the +head of the table, where her youthful figure, small and slight, but +very graceful, looked as pretty as it looked misplaced; 'is there +nothing that will move that face?' + +Yes! By Jupiter, there was something, and here it was, in an +unexpected shape. Tom appeared. She changed as the door opened, +and broke into a beaming smile. + +A beautiful smile. Mr. James Harthouse might not have thought so +much of it, but that he had wondered so long at her impassive face. +She put out her hand - a pretty little soft hand; and her fingers +closed upon her brother's, as if she would have carried them to her +lips. + +'Ay, ay?' thought the visitor. 'This whelp is the only creature +she cares for. So, so!' + +The whelp was presented, and took his chair. The appellation was +not flattering, but not unmerited. + +'When I was your age, young Tom,' said Bounderby, 'I was punctual, +or I got no dinner!' + +'When you were my age,' resumed Tom, 'you hadn't a wrong balance to +get right, and hadn't to dress afterwards.' + +'Never mind that now,' said Bounderby. + +'Well, then,' grumbled Tom. 'Don't begin with me.' + +'Mrs. Bounderby,' said Harthouse, perfectly hearing this under- +strain as it went on; 'your brother's face is quite familiar to me. +Can I have seen him abroad? Or at some public school, perhaps?' + +'No,' she resumed, quite interested, 'he has never been abroad yet, +and was educated here, at home. Tom, love, I am telling Mr. +Harthouse that he never saw you abroad.' + +'No such luck, sir,' said Tom. + +There was little enough in him to brighten her face, for he was a +sullen young fellow, and ungracious in his manner even to her. So +much the greater must have been the solitude of her heart, and her +need of some one on whom to bestow it. 'So much the more is this +whelp the only creature she has ever cared for,' thought Mr. James +Harthouse, turning it over and over. 'So much the more. So much +the more.' + +Both in his sister's presence, and after she had left the room, the +whelp took no pains to hide his contempt for Mr. Bounderby, +whenever he could indulge it without the observation of that +independent man, by making wry faces, or shutting one eye. Without +responding to these telegraphic communications, Mr. Harthouse +encouraged him much in the course of the evening, and showed an +unusual liking for him. At last, when he rose to return to his +hotel, and was a little doubtful whether he knew the way by night, +the whelp immediately proffered his services as guide, and turned +out with him to escort him thither. + + + +CHAPTER III - THE WHELP + + + +IT was very remarkable that a young gentleman who had been brought +up under one continuous system of unnatural restraint, should be a +hypocrite; but it was certainly the case with Tom. It was very +strange that a young gentleman who had never been left to his own +guidance for five consecutive minutes, should be incapable at last +of governing himself; but so it was with Tom. It was altogether +unaccountable that a young gentleman whose imagination had been +strangled in his cradle, should be still inconvenienced by its +ghost in the form of grovelling sensualities; but such a monster, +beyond all doubt, was Tom. + +'Do you smoke?' asked Mr. James Harthouse, when they came to the +hotel. + +'I believe you!' said Tom. + +He could do no less than ask Tom up; and Tom could do no less than +go up. What with a cooling drink adapted to the weather, but not +so weak as cool; and what with a rarer tobacco than was to be +bought in those parts; Tom was soon in a highly free and easy state +at his end of the sofa, and more than ever disposed to admire his +new friend at the other end. + +Tom blew his smoke aside, after he had been smoking a little while, +and took an observation of his friend. 'He don't seem to care +about his dress,' thought Tom, 'and yet how capitally he does it. +What an easy swell he is!' + +Mr. James Harthouse, happening to catch Tom's eye, remarked that he +drank nothing, and filled his glass with his own negligent hand. + +'Thank'ee,' said Tom. 'Thank'ee. Well, Mr. Harthouse, I hope you +have had about a dose of old Bounderby to-night.' Tom said this +with one eye shut up again, and looking over his glass knowingly, +at his entertainer. + +'A very good fellow indeed!' returned Mr. James Harthouse. + +'You think so, don't you?' said Tom. And shut up his eye again. + +Mr. James Harthouse smiled; and rising from his end of the sofa, +and lounging with his back against the chimney-piece, so that he +stood before the empty fire-grate as he smoked, in front of Tom and +looking down at him, observed: + +'What a comical brother-in-law you are!' + +'What a comical brother-in-law old Bounderby is, I think you mean,' +said Tom. + +'You are a piece of caustic, Tom,' retorted Mr. James Harthouse. + +There was something so very agreeable in being so intimate with +such a waistcoat; in being called Tom, in such an intimate way, by +such a voice; in being on such off-hand terms so soon, with such a +pair of whiskers; that Tom was uncommonly pleased with himself. + +'Oh! I don't care for old Bounderby,' said he, 'if you mean that. +I have always called old Bounderby by the same name when I have +talked about him, and I have always thought of him in the same way. +I am not going to begin to be polite now, about old Bounderby. It +would be rather late in the day.' + +'Don't mind me,' returned James; 'but take care when his wife is +by, you know.' + +'His wife?' said Tom. 'My sister Loo? O yes!' And he laughed, +and took a little more of the cooling drink. + +James Harthouse continued to lounge in the same place and attitude, +smoking his cigar in his own easy way, and looking pleasantly at +the whelp, as if he knew himself to be a kind of agreeable demon +who had only to hover over him, and he must give up his whole soul +if required. It certainly did seem that the whelp yielded to this +influence. He looked at his companion sneakingly, he looked at him +admiringly, he looked at him boldly, and put up one leg on the +sofa. + +'My sister Loo?' said Tom. 'She never cared for old Bounderby.' + +'That's the past tense, Tom,' returned Mr. James Harthouse, +striking the ash from his cigar with his little finger. 'We are in +the present tense, now.' + +'Verb neuter, not to care. Indicative mood, present tense. First +person singular, I do not care; second person singular, thou dost +not care; third person singular, she does not care,' returned Tom. + +'Good! Very quaint!' said his friend. 'Though you don't mean it.' + +'But I do mean it,' cried Tom. 'Upon my honour! Why, you won't +tell me, Mr. Harthouse, that you really suppose my sister Loo does +care for old Bounderby.' + +'My dear fellow,' returned the other, 'what am I bound to suppose, +when I find two married people living in harmony and happiness?' + +Tom had by this time got both his legs on the sofa. If his second +leg had not been already there when he was called a dear fellow, he +would have put it up at that great stage of the conversation. +Feeling it necessary to do something then, he stretched himself out +at greater length, and, reclining with the back of his head on the +end of the sofa, and smoking with an infinite assumption of +negligence, turned his common face, and not too sober eyes, towards +the face looking down upon him so carelessly yet so potently. + +'You know our governor, Mr. Harthouse,' said Tom, 'and therefore, +you needn't be surprised that Loo married old Bounderby. She never +had a lover, and the governor proposed old Bounderby, and she took +him.' + +'Very dutiful in your interesting sister,' said Mr. James +Harthouse. + +'Yes, but she wouldn't have been as dutiful, and it would not have +come off as easily,' returned the whelp, 'if it hadn't been for +me.' + +The tempter merely lifted his eyebrows; but the whelp was obliged +to go on. + +'I persuaded her,' he said, with an edifying air of superiority. +'I was stuck into old Bounderby's bank (where I never wanted to +be), and I knew I should get into scrapes there, if she put old +Bounderby's pipe out; so I told her my wishes, and she came into +them. She would do anything for me. It was very game of her, +wasn't it?' + +'It was charming, Tom!' + +'Not that it was altogether so important to her as it was to me,' +continued Tom coolly, 'because my liberty and comfort, and perhaps +my getting on, depended on it; and she had no other lover, and +staying at home was like staying in jail - especially when I was +gone. It wasn't as if she gave up another lover for old Bounderby; +but still it was a good thing in her.' + +'Perfectly delightful. And she gets on so placidly.' + +'Oh,' returned Tom, with contemptuous patronage, 'she's a regular +girl. A girl can get on anywhere. She has settled down to the +life, and she don't mind. It does just as well as another. +Besides, though Loo is a girl, she's not a common sort of girl. +She can shut herself up within herself, and think - as I have often +known her sit and watch the fire - for an hour at a stretch.' + +'Ay, ay? Has resources of her own,' said Harthouse, smoking +quietly. + +'Not so much of that as you may suppose,' returned Tom; 'for our +governor had her crammed with all sorts of dry bones and sawdust. +It's his system.' + +'Formed his daughter on his own model?' suggested Harthouse. + +'His daughter? Ah! and everybody else. Why, he formed Me that +way!' said Tom. + +'Impossible!' + +'He did, though,' said Tom, shaking his head. 'I mean to say, Mr. +Harthouse, that when I first left home and went to old Bounderby's, +I was as flat as a warming-pan, and knew no more about life, than +any oyster does.' + +'Come, Tom! I can hardly believe that. A joke's a joke.' + +'Upon my soul!' said the whelp. 'I am serious; I am indeed!' He +smoked with great gravity and dignity for a little while, and then +added, in a highly complacent tone, 'Oh! I have picked up a little +since. I don't deny that. But I have done it myself; no thanks to +the governor.' + +'And your intelligent sister?' + +'My intelligent sister is about where she was. She used to +complain to me that she had nothing to fall back upon, that girls +usually fall back upon; and I don't see how she is to have got over +that since. But she don't mind,' he sagaciously added, puffing at +his cigar again. 'Girls can always get on, somehow.' + +'Calling at the Bank yesterday evening, for Mr. Bounderby's +address, I found an ancient lady there, who seems to entertain +great admiration for your sister,' observed Mr. James Harthouse, +throwing away the last small remnant of the cigar he had now smoked +out. + +'Mother Sparsit!' said Tom. 'What! you have seen her already, have +you?' + +His friend nodded. Tom took his cigar out of his mouth, to shut up +his eye (which had grown rather unmanageable) with the greater +expression, and to tap his nose several times with his finger. + +'Mother Sparsit's feeling for Loo is more than admiration, I should +think,' said Tom. 'Say affection and devotion. Mother Sparsit +never set her cap at Bounderby when he was a bachelor. Oh no!' + +These were the last words spoken by the whelp, before a giddy +drowsiness came upon him, followed by complete oblivion. He was +roused from the latter state by an uneasy dream of being stirred up +with a boot, and also of a voice saying: 'Come, it's late. Be +off!' + +'Well!' he said, scrambling from the sofa. 'I must take my leave +of you though. I say. Yours is very good tobacco. But it's too +mild.' + +'Yes, it's too mild,' returned his entertainer. + +'It's - it's ridiculously mild,' said Tom. 'Where's the door! +Good night!' + +He had another odd dream of being taken by a waiter through a +mist, which, after giving him some trouble and difficulty, resolved +itself into the main street, in which he stood alone. He then +walked home pretty easily, though not yet free from an impression +of the presence and influence of his new friend - as if he were +lounging somewhere in the air, in the same negligent attitude, +regarding him with the same look. + +The whelp went home, and went to bed. If he had had any sense of +what he had done that night, and had been less of a whelp and more +of a brother, he might have turned short on the road, might have +gone down to the ill-smelling river that was dyed black, might have +gone to bed in it for good and all, and have curtained his head for +ever with its filthy waters. + + + +CHAPTER IV - MEN AND BROTHERS + + + +'OH, my friends, the down-trodden operatives of Coketown! Oh, my +friends and fellow-countrymen, the slaves of an iron-handed and a +grinding despotism! Oh, my friends and fellow-sufferers, and +fellow-workmen, and fellow-men! I tell you that the hour is come, +when we must rally round one another as One united power, and +crumble into dust the oppressors that too long have battened upon +the plunder of our families, upon the sweat of our brows, upon the +labour of our hands, upon the strength of our sinews, upon the God- +created glorious rights of Humanity, and upon the holy and eternal +privileges of Brotherhood!' + +'Good!' 'Hear, hear, hear!' 'Hurrah!' and other cries, arose in +many voices from various parts of the densely crowded and +suffocatingly close Hall, in which the orator, perched on a stage, +delivered himself of this and what other froth and fume he had in +him. He had declaimed himself into a violent heat, and was as +hoarse as he was hot. By dint of roaring at the top of his voice +under a flaring gaslight, clenching his fists, knitting his brows, +setting his teeth, and pounding with his arms, he had taken so much +out of himself by this time, that he was brought to a stop, and +called for a glass of water. + +As he stood there, trying to quench his fiery face with his drink +of water, the comparison between the orator and the crowd of +attentive faces turned towards him, was extremely to his +disadvantage. Judging him by Nature's evidence, he was above the +mass in very little but the stage on which he stood. In many great +respects he was essentially below them. He was not so honest, he +was not so manly, he was not so good-humoured; he substituted +cunning for their simplicity, and passion for their safe solid +sense. An ill-made, high-shouldered man, with lowering brows, and +his features crushed into an habitually sour expression, he +contrasted most unfavourably, even in his mongrel dress, with the +great body of his hearers in their plain working clothes. Strange +as it always is to consider any assembly in the act of submissively +resigning itself to the dreariness of some complacent person, lord +or commoner, whom three-fourths of it could, by no human means, +raise out of the slough of inanity to their own intellectual level, +it was particularly strange, and it was even particularly +affecting, to see this crowd of earnest faces, whose honesty in the +main no competent observer free from bias could doubt, so agitated +by such a leader. + +Good! Hear, hear! Hurrah! The eagerness both of attention and +intention, exhibited in all the countenances, made them a most +impressive sight. There was no carelessness, no languor, no idle +curiosity; none of the many shades of indifference to be seen in +all other assemblies, visible for one moment there. That every man +felt his condition to be, somehow or other, worse than it might be; +that every man considered it incumbent on him to join the rest, +towards the making of it better; that every man felt his only hope +to be in his allying himself to the comrades by whom he was +surrounded; and that in this belief, right or wrong (unhappily +wrong then), the whole of that crowd were gravely, deeply, +faithfully in earnest; must have been as plain to any one who chose +to see what was there, as the bare beams of the roof and the +whitened brick walls. Nor could any such spectator fail to know in +his own breast, that these men, through their very delusions, +showed great qualities, susceptible of being turned to the happiest +and best account; and that to pretend (on the strength of sweeping +axioms, howsoever cut and dried) that they went astray wholly +without cause, and of their own irrational wills, was to pretend +that there could be smoke without fire, death without birth, +harvest without seed, anything or everything produced from nothing. + +The orator having refreshed himself, wiped his corrugated forehead +from left to right several times with his handkerchief folded into +a pad, and concentrated all his revived forces, in a sneer of great +disdain and bitterness. + +'But oh, my friends and brothers! Oh, men and Englishmen, the +down-trodden operatives of Coketown! What shall we say of that man +- that working-man, that I should find it necessary so to libel the +glorious name - who, being practically and well acquainted with the +grievances and wrongs of you, the injured pith and marrow of this +land, and having heard you, with a noble and majestic unanimity +that will make Tyrants tremble, resolve for to subscribe to the +funds of the United Aggregate Tribunal, and to abide by the +injunctions issued by that body for your benefit, whatever they may +be - what, I ask you, will you say of that working-man, since such +I must acknowledge him to be, who, at such a time, deserts his +post, and sells his flag; who, at such a time, turns a traitor and +a craven and a recreant, who, at such a time, is not ashamed to +make to you the dastardly and humiliating avowal that he will hold +himself aloof, and will not be one of those associated in the +gallant stand for Freedom and for Right?' + +The assembly was divided at this point. There were some groans and +hisses, but the general sense of honour was much too strong for the +condemnation of a man unheard. 'Be sure you're right, +Slackbridge!' 'Put him up!' 'Let's hear him!' Such things were +said on many sides. Finally, one strong voice called out, 'Is the +man heer? If the man's heer, Slackbridge, let's hear the man +himseln, 'stead o' yo.' Which was received with a round of +applause. + +Slackbridge, the orator, looked about him with a withering smile; +and, holding out his right hand at arm's length (as the manner of +all Slackbridges is), to still the thundering sea, waited until +there was a profound silence. + +'Oh, my friends and fellow-men!' said Slackbridge then, shaking his +head with violent scorn, 'I do not wonder that you, the prostrate +sons of labour, are incredulous of the existence of such a man. +But he who sold his birthright for a mess of pottage existed, and +Judas Iscariot existed, and Castlereagh existed, and this man +exists!' + +Here, a brief press and confusion near the stage, ended in the man +himself standing at the orator's side before the concourse. He was +pale and a little moved in the face - his lips especially showed +it; but he stood quiet, with his left hand at his chin, waiting to +be heard. There was a chairman to regulate the proceedings, and +this functionary now took the case into his own hands. + +'My friends,' said he, 'by virtue o' my office as your president, I +askes o' our friend Slackbridge, who may be a little over hetter in +this business, to take his seat, whiles this man Stephen Blackpool +is heern. You all know this man Stephen Blackpool. You know him +awlung o' his misfort'ns, and his good name.' + +With that, the chairman shook him frankly by the hand, and sat down +again. Slackbridge likewise sat down, wiping his hot forehead - +always from left to right, and never the reverse way. + +'My friends,' Stephen began, in the midst of a dead calm; 'I ha' +hed what's been spok'n o' me, and 'tis lickly that I shan't mend +it. But I'd liefer you'd hearn the truth concernin myseln, fro my +lips than fro onny other man's, though I never cud'n speak afore so +monny, wi'out bein moydert and muddled.' + +Slackbridge shook his head as if he would shake it off, in his +bitterness. + +'I'm th' one single Hand in Bounderby's mill, o' a' the men theer, +as don't coom in wi' th' proposed reg'lations. I canna coom in wi' +'em. My friends, I doubt their doin' yo onny good. Licker they'll +do yo hurt.' + +Slackbridge laughed, folded his arms, and frowned sarcastically. + +'But 't an't sommuch for that as I stands out. If that were aw, +I'd coom in wi' th' rest. But I ha' my reasons - mine, yo see - +for being hindered; not on'y now, but awlus - awlus - life long!' + +Slackbridge jumped up and stood beside him, gnashing and tearing. +'Oh, my friends, what but this did I tell you? Oh, my fellow- +countrymen, what warning but this did I give you? And how shows +this recreant conduct in a man on whom unequal laws are known to +have fallen heavy? Oh, you Englishmen, I ask you how does this +subornation show in one of yourselves, who is thus consenting to +his own undoing and to yours, and to your children's and your +children's children's?' + +There was some applause, and some crying of Shame upon the man; but +the greater part of the audience were quiet. They looked at +Stephen's worn face, rendered more pathetic by the homely emotions +it evinced; and, in the kindness of their nature, they were more +sorry than indignant. + +''Tis this Delegate's trade for t' speak,' said Stephen, 'an' he's +paid for 't, an' he knows his work. Let him keep to 't. Let him +give no heed to what I ha had'n to bear. That's not for him. +That's not for nobbody but me.' + +There was a propriety, not to say a dignity in these words, that +made the hearers yet more quiet and attentive. The same strong +voice called out, 'Slackbridge, let the man be heern, and howd thee +tongue!' Then the place was wonderfully still. + +'My brothers,' said Stephen, whose low voice was distinctly heard, +'and my fellow-workmen - for that yo are to me, though not, as I +knows on, to this delegate here - I ha but a word to sen, and I +could sen nommore if I was to speak till Strike o' day. I know +weel, aw what's afore me. I know weel that yo aw resolve to ha +nommore ado wi' a man who is not wi' yo in this matther. I know +weel that if I was a lyin parisht i' th' road, yo'd feel it right +to pass me by, as a forrenner and stranger. What I ha getn, I mun +mak th' best on.' + +'Stephen Blackpool,' said the chairman, rising, 'think on 't agen. +Think on 't once agen, lad, afore thou'rt shunned by aw owd +friends.' + +There was an universal murmur to the same effect, though no man +articulated a word. Every eye was fixed on Stephen's face. To +repent of his determination, would be to take a load from all their +minds. He looked around him, and knew that it was so. Not a grain +of anger with them was in his heart; he knew them, far below their +surface weaknesses and misconceptions, as no one but their fellow- +labourer could. + +'I ha thowt on 't, above a bit, sir. I simply canna coom in. I +mun go th' way as lays afore me. I mun tak my leave o' aw heer.' + +He made a sort of reverence to them by holding up his arms, and +stood for the moment in that attitude; not speaking until they +slowly dropped at his sides. + +'Monny's the pleasant word as soom heer has spok'n wi' me; monny's +the face I see heer, as I first seen when I were yoong and lighter +heart'n than now. I ha' never had no fratch afore, sin ever I were +born, wi' any o' my like; Gonnows I ha' none now that's o' my +makin'. Yo'll ca' me traitor and that - yo I mean t' say,' +addressing Slackbridge, 'but 'tis easier to ca' than mak' out. So +let be.' + +He had moved away a pace or two to come down from the platform, +when he remembered something he had not said, and returned again. + +'Haply,' he said, turning his furrowed face slowly about, that he +might as it were individually address the whole audience, those +both near and distant; 'haply, when this question has been tak'n up +and discoosed, there'll be a threat to turn out if I'm let to work +among yo. I hope I shall die ere ever such a time cooms, and I +shall work solitary among yo unless it cooms - truly, I mun do 't, +my friends; not to brave yo, but to live. I ha nobbut work to live +by; and wheerever can I go, I who ha worked sin I were no heighth +at aw, in Coketown heer? I mak' no complaints o' bein turned to +the wa', o' bein outcasten and overlooken fro this time forrard, +but hope I shall be let to work. If there is any right for me at +aw, my friends, I think 'tis that.' + +Not a word was spoken. Not a sound was audible in the building, +but the slight rustle of men moving a little apart, all along the +centre of the room, to open a means of passing out, to the man with +whom they had all bound themselves to renounce companionship. +Looking at no one, and going his way with a lowly steadiness upon +him that asserted nothing and sought nothing, Old Stephen, with all +his troubles on his head, left the scene. + +Then Slackbridge, who had kept his oratorical arm extended during +the going out, as if he were repressing with infinite solicitude +and by a wonderful moral power the vehement passions of the +multitude, applied himself to raising their spirits. Had not the +Roman Brutus, oh, my British countrymen, condemned his son to +death; and had not the Spartan mothers, oh my soon to be victorious +friends, driven their flying children on the points of their +enemies' swords? Then was it not the sacred duty of the men of +Coketown, with forefathers before them, an admiring world in +company with them, and a posterity to come after them, to hurl out +traitors from the tents they had pitched in a sacred and a God-like +cause? The winds of heaven answered Yes; and bore Yes, east, west, +north, and south. And consequently three cheers for the United +Aggregate Tribunal! + +Slackbridge acted as fugleman, and gave the time. The multitude of +doubtful faces (a little conscience-stricken) brightened at the +sound, and took it up. Private feeling must yield to the common +cause. Hurrah! The roof yet vibrated with the cheering, when the +assembly dispersed. + +Thus easily did Stephen Blackpool fall into the loneliest of lives, +the life of solitude among a familiar crowd. The stranger in the +land who looks into ten thousand faces for some answering look and +never finds it, is in cheering society as compared with him who +passes ten averted faces daily, that were once the countenances of +friends. Such experience was to be Stephen's now, in every waking +moment of his life; at his work, on his way to it and from it, at +his door, at his window, everywhere. By general consent, they even +avoided that side of the street on which he habitually walked; and +left it, of all the working men, to him only. + +He had been for many years, a quiet silent man, associating but +little with other men, and used to companionship with his own +thoughts. He had never known before the strength of the want in +his heart for the frequent recognition of a nod, a look, a word; or +the immense amount of relief that had been poured into it by drops +through such small means. It was even harder than he could have +believed possible, to separate in his own conscience his +abandonment by all his fellows from a baseless sense of shame and +disgrace. + +The first four days of his endurance were days so long and heavy, +that he began to be appalled by the prospect before him. Not only +did he see no Rachael all the time, but he avoided every chance of +seeing her; for, although he knew that the prohibition did not yet +formally extend to the women working in the factories, he found +that some of them with whom he was acquainted were changed to him, +and he feared to try others, and dreaded that Rachael might be even +singled out from the rest if she were seen in his company. So, he +had been quite alone during the four days, and had spoken to no +one, when, as he was leaving his work at night, a young man of a +very light complexion accosted him in the street. + +'Your name's Blackpool, ain't it?' said the young man. + +Stephen coloured to find himself with his hat in his hand, in his +gratitude for being spoken to, or in the suddenness of it, or both. +He made a feint of adjusting the lining, and said, 'Yes.' + +'You are the Hand they have sent to Coventry, I mean?' said Bitzer, +the very light young man in question. + +Stephen answered 'Yes,' again. + +'I supposed so, from their all appearing to keep away from you. +Mr. Bounderby wants to speak to you. You know his house, don't +you?' + +Stephen said 'Yes,' again. + +'Then go straight up there, will you?' said Bitzer. 'You're +expected, and have only to tell the servant it's you. I belong to +the Bank; so, if you go straight up without me (I was sent to fetch +you), you'll save me a walk.' + +Stephen, whose way had been in the contrary direction, turned +about, and betook himself as in duty bound, to the red brick castle +of the giant Bounderby. + + + +CHAPTER V - MEN AND MASTERS + + + +'WELL, Stephen,' said Bounderby, in his windy manner, 'what's this +I hear? What have these pests of the earth been doing to you? +Come in, and speak up.' + +It was into the drawing-room that he was thus bidden. A tea-table +was set out; and Mr. Bounderby's young wife, and her brother, and a +great gentleman from London, were present. To whom Stephen made +his obeisance, closing the door and standing near it, with his hat +in his hand. + +'This is the man I was telling you about, Harthouse,' said Mr. +Bounderby. The gentleman he addressed, who was talking to Mrs. +Bounderby on the sofa, got up, saying in an indolent way, 'Oh +really?' and dawdled to the hearthrug where Mr. Bounderby stood. + +'Now,' said Bounderby, 'speak up!' + +After the four days he had passed, this address fell rudely and +discordantly on Stephen's ear. Besides being a rough handling of +his wounded mind, it seemed to assume that he really was the self- +interested deserter he had been called. + +'What were it, sir,' said Stephen, 'as yo were pleased to want wi' +me?' + +'Why, I have told you,' returned Bounderby. 'Speak up like a man, +since you are a man, and tell us about yourself and this +Combination.' + +'Wi' yor pardon, sir,' said Stephen Blackpool, 'I ha' nowt to sen +about it.' + +Mr. Bounderby, who was always more or less like a Wind, finding +something in his way here, began to blow at it directly. + +'Now, look here, Harthouse,' said he, 'here's a specimen of 'em. +When this man was here once before, I warned this man against the +mischievous strangers who are always about - and who ought to be +hanged wherever they are found - and I told this man that he was +going in the wrong direction. Now, would you believe it, that +although they have put this mark upon him, he is such a slave to +them still, that he's afraid to open his lips about them?' + +'I sed as I had nowt to sen, sir; not as I was fearfo' o' openin' +my lips.' + +'You said! Ah! I know what you said; more than that, I know what +you mean, you see. Not always the same thing, by the Lord Harry! +Quite different things. You had better tell us at once, that that +fellow Slackbridge is not in the town, stirring up the people to +mutiny; and that he is not a regular qualified leader of the +people: that is, a most confounded scoundrel. You had better tell +us so at once; you can't deceive me. You want to tell us so. Why +don't you?' + +'I'm as sooary as yo, sir, when the people's leaders is bad,' said +Stephen, shaking his head. 'They taks such as offers. Haply 'tis +na' the sma'est o' their misfortuns when they can get no better.' + +The wind began to get boisterous. + +'Now, you'll think this pretty well, Harthouse,' said Mr. +Bounderby. 'You'll think this tolerably strong. You'll say, upon +my soul this is a tidy specimen of what my friends have to deal +with; but this is nothing, sir! You shall hear me ask this man a +question. Pray, Mr. Blackpool' - wind springing up very fast - +'may I take the liberty of asking you how it happens that you +refused to be in this Combination?' + +'How 't happens?' + +'Ah!' said Mr. Bounderby, with his thumbs in the arms of his coat, +and jerking his head and shutting his eyes in confidence with the +opposite wall: 'how it happens.' + +'I'd leefer not coom to 't, sir; but sin you put th' question - an' +not want'n t' be ill-manner'n - I'll answer. I ha passed a +promess.' + +'Not to me, you know,' said Bounderby. (Gusty weather with +deceitful calms. One now prevailing.) + +'O no, sir. Not to yo.' + +'As for me, any consideration for me has had just nothing at all to +do with it,' said Bounderby, still in confidence with the wall. +'If only Josiah Bounderby of Coketown had been in question, you +would have joined and made no bones about it?' + +'Why yes, sir. 'Tis true.' + +'Though he knows,' said Mr. Bounderby, now blowing a gale, 'that +there are a set of rascals and rebels whom transportation is too +good for! Now, Mr. Harthouse, you have been knocking about in the +world some time. Did you ever meet with anything like that man out +of this blessed country?' And Mr. Bounderby pointed him out for +inspection, with an angry finger. + +'Nay, ma'am,' said Stephen Blackpool, staunchly protesting against +the words that had been used, and instinctively addressing himself +to Louisa, after glancing at her face. 'Not rebels, nor yet +rascals. Nowt o' th' kind, ma'am, nowt o' th' kind. They've not +doon me a kindness, ma'am, as I know and feel. But there's not a +dozen men amoong 'em, ma'am - a dozen? Not six - but what believes +as he has doon his duty by the rest and by himseln. God forbid as +I, that ha' known, and had'n experience o' these men aw my life - +I, that ha' ett'n an' droonken wi' 'em, an' seet'n wi' 'em, and +toil'n wi' 'em, and lov'n 'em, should fail fur to stan by 'em wi' +the truth, let 'em ha' doon to me what they may!' + +He spoke with the rugged earnestness of his place and character - +deepened perhaps by a proud consciousness that he was faithful to +his class under all their mistrust; but he fully remembered where +he was, and did not even raise his voice. + +'No, ma'am, no. They're true to one another, faithfo' to one +another, 'fectionate to one another, e'en to death. Be poor amoong +'em, be sick amoong 'em, grieve amoong 'em for onny o' th' monny +causes that carries grief to the poor man's door, an' they'll be +tender wi' yo, gentle wi' yo, comfortable wi' yo, Chrisen wi' yo. +Be sure o' that, ma'am. They'd be riven to bits, ere ever they'd +be different.' + +'In short,' said Mr. Bounderby, 'it's because they are so full of +virtues that they have turned you adrift. Go through with it while +you are about it. Out with it.' + +'How 'tis, ma'am,' resumed Stephen, appearing still to find his +natural refuge in Louisa's face, 'that what is best in us fok, +seems to turn us most to trouble an' misfort'n an' mistake, I +dunno. But 'tis so. I know 'tis, as I know the heavens is over me +ahint the smoke. We're patient too, an' wants in general to do +right. An' I canna think the fawt is aw wi' us.' + +'Now, my friend,' said Mr. Bounderby, whom he could not have +exasperated more, quite unconscious of it though he was, than by +seeming to appeal to any one else, 'if you will favour me with your +attention for half a minute, I should like to have a word or two +with you. You said just now, that you had nothing to tell us about +this business. You are quite sure of that before we go any +further.' + +'Sir, I am sure on 't.' + +'Here's a gentleman from London present,' Mr. Bounderby made a +backhanded point at Mr. James Harthouse with his thumb, 'a +Parliament gentleman. I should like him to hear a short bit of +dialogue between you and me, instead of taking the substance of it +- for I know precious well, beforehand, what it will be; nobody +knows better than I do, take notice! - instead of receiving it on +trust from my mouth.' + +Stephen bent his head to the gentleman from London, and showed a +rather more troubled mind than usual. He turned his eyes +involuntarily to his former refuge, but at a look from that quarter +(expressive though instantaneous) he settled them on Mr. +Bounderby's face. + +'Now, what do you complain of?' asked Mr. Bounderby. + +'I ha' not coom here, sir,' Stephen reminded him, 'to complain. I +coom for that I were sent for.' + +'What,' repeated Mr. Bounderby, folding his arms, 'do you people, +in a general way, complain of?' + +Stephen looked at him with some little irresolution for a moment, +and then seemed to make up his mind. + +'Sir, I were never good at showin o 't, though I ha had'n my share +in feeling o 't. 'Deed we are in a muddle, sir. Look round town - +so rich as 'tis - and see the numbers o' people as has been +broughten into bein heer, fur to weave, an' to card, an' to piece +out a livin', aw the same one way, somehows, 'twixt their cradles +and their graves. Look how we live, an' wheer we live, an' in what +numbers, an' by what chances, and wi' what sameness; and look how +the mills is awlus a goin, and how they never works us no nigher to +ony dis'ant object - ceptin awlus, Death. Look how you considers +of us, and writes of us, and talks of us, and goes up wi' yor +deputations to Secretaries o' State 'bout us, and how yo are awlus +right, and how we are awlus wrong, and never had'n no reason in us +sin ever we were born. Look how this ha growen an' growen, sir, +bigger an' bigger, broader an' broader, harder an' harder, fro year +to year, fro generation unto generation. Who can look on 't, sir, +and fairly tell a man 'tis not a muddle?' + +'Of course,' said Mr. Bounderby. 'Now perhaps you'll let the +gentleman know, how you would set this muddle (as you're so fond of +calling it) to rights.' + +'I donno, sir. I canna be expecten to 't. 'Tis not me as should +be looken to for that, sir. 'Tis them as is put ower me, and ower +aw the rest of us. What do they tak upon themseln, sir, if not to +do't?' + +'I'll tell you something towards it, at any rate,' returned Mr. +Bounderby. 'We will make an example of half a dozen Slackbridges. +We'll indict the blackguards for felony, and get 'em shipped off to +penal settlements.' + +Stephen gravely shook his head. + +'Don't tell me we won't, man,' said Mr. Bounderby, by this time +blowing a hurricane, 'because we will, I tell you!' + +'Sir,' returned Stephen, with the quiet confidence of absolute +certainty, 'if yo was t' tak a hundred Slackbridges - aw as there +is, and aw the number ten times towd - an' was t' sew 'em up in +separate sacks, an' sink 'em in the deepest ocean as were made ere +ever dry land coom to be, yo'd leave the muddle just wheer 'tis. +Mischeevous strangers!' said Stephen, with an anxious smile; 'when +ha we not heern, I am sure, sin ever we can call to mind, o' th' +mischeevous strangers! 'Tis not by them the trouble's made, sir. +'Tis not wi' them 't commences. I ha no favour for 'em - I ha no +reason to favour 'em - but 'tis hopeless and useless to dream o' +takin them fro their trade, 'stead o' takin their trade fro them! +Aw that's now about me in this room were heer afore I coom, an' +will be heer when I am gone. Put that clock aboard a ship an' pack +it off to Norfolk Island, an' the time will go on just the same. +So 'tis wi' Slackbridge every bit.' + +Reverting for a moment to his former refuge, he observed a +cautionary movement of her eyes towards the door. Stepping back, +he put his hand upon the lock. But he had not spoken out of his +own will and desire; and he felt it in his heart a noble return for +his late injurious treatment to be faithful to the last to those +who had repudiated him. He stayed to finish what was in his mind. + +'Sir, I canna, wi' my little learning an' my common way, tell the +genelman what will better aw this - though some working men o' this +town could, above my powers - but I can tell him what I know will +never do 't. The strong hand will never do 't. Vict'ry and +triumph will never do 't. Agreeing fur to mak one side unnat'rally +awlus and for ever right, and toother side unnat'rally awlus and +for ever wrong, will never, never do 't. Nor yet lettin alone will +never do 't. Let thousands upon thousands alone, aw leading the +like lives and aw faw'en into the like muddle, and they will be as +one, and yo will be as anoother, wi' a black unpassable world +betwixt yo, just as long or short a time as sich-like misery can +last. Not drawin nigh to fok, wi' kindness and patience an' cheery +ways, that so draws nigh to one another in their monny troubles, +and so cherishes one another in their distresses wi' what they need +themseln - like, I humbly believe, as no people the genelman ha +seen in aw his travels can beat - will never do 't till th' Sun +turns t' ice. Most o' aw, rating 'em as so much Power, and +reg'latin 'em as if they was figures in a soom, or machines: +wi'out loves and likens, wi'out memories and inclinations, wi'out +souls to weary and souls to hope - when aw goes quiet, draggin on +wi' 'em as if they'd nowt o' th' kind, and when aw goes onquiet, +reproachin 'em for their want o' sitch humanly feelins in their +dealins wi' yo - this will never do 't, sir, till God's work is +onmade.' + +Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if +anything more were expected of him. + +'Just stop a moment,' said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the +face. 'I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, +that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also +told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look- +out.' + +'I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo.' + +'Now it's clear to me,' said Mr. Bounderby, 'that you are one of +those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, +sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of your life, my +friend.' + +Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that indeed he had other +business to do for his life. + +'You are such a waspish, raspish, ill-conditioned chap, you see,' +said Mr. Bounderby, 'that even your own Union, the men who know you +best, will have nothing to do with you. I never thought those +fellows could be right in anything; but I tell you what! I so far +go along with them for a novelty, that I'll have nothing to do with +you either.' + +Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. + +'You can finish off what you're at,' said Mr. Bounderby, with a +meaning nod, 'and then go elsewhere.' + +'Sir, yo know weel,' said Stephen expressively, 'that if I canna +get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer.' + +The reply was, 'What I know, I know; and what you know, you know. +I have no more to say about it.' + +Stephen glanced at Louisa again, but her eyes were raised to his no +more; therefore, with a sigh, and saying, barely above his breath, +'Heaven help us aw in this world!' he departed. + + + +CHAPTER VI - FADING AWAY + + + +IT was falling dark when Stephen came out of Mr. Bounderby's house. +The shadows of night had gathered so fast, that he did not look +about him when he closed the door, but plodded straight along the +street. Nothing was further from his thoughts than the curious old +woman he had encountered on his previous visit to the same house, +when he heard a step behind him that he knew, and turning, saw her +in Rachael's company. + +He saw Rachael first, as he had heard her only. + +'Ah, Rachael, my dear! Missus, thou wi' her!' + +'Well, and now you are surprised to be sure, and with reason I must +say,' the old woman returned. 'Here I am again, you see.' + +'But how wi' Rachael?' said Stephen, falling into their step, +walking between them, and looking from the one to the other. + +'Why, I come to be with this good lass pretty much as I came to be +with you,' said the old woman, cheerfully, taking the reply upon +herself. 'My visiting time is later this year than usual, for I +have been rather troubled with shortness of breath, and so put it +off till the weather was fine and warm. For the same reason I +don't make all my journey in one day, but divide it into two days, +and get a bed to-night at the Travellers' Coffee House down by the +railroad (a nice clean house), and go back Parliamentary, at six in +the morning. Well, but what has this to do with this good lass, +says you? I'm going to tell you. I have heard of Mr. Bounderby +being married. I read it in the paper, where it looked grand - oh, +it looked fine!' the old woman dwelt on it with strange enthusiasm: +'and I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. Now, if +you'll believe me, she hasn't come out of that house since noon to- +day. So not to give her up too easily, I was waiting about, a +little last bit more, when I passed close to this good lass two or +three times; and her face being so friendly I spoke to her, and she +spoke to me. There!' said the old woman to Stephen, 'you can make +all the rest out for yourself now, a deal shorter than I can, I +dare say!' + +Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propensity to +dislike this old woman, though her manner was as honest and simple +as a manner possibly could be. With a gentleness that was as +natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the +subject that interested her in her old age. + +'Well, missus,' said he, 'I ha seen the lady, and she were young +and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, +as I ha never seen the like on.' + +'Young and handsome. Yes!' cried the old woman, quite delighted. +'As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!' + +'Aye, missus, I suppose she be,' said Stephen. But with a doubtful +glance at Rachael. + +'Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife,' returned +the old woman. + +Stephen nodded assent. 'Though as to master,' said he, glancing +again at Rachael, 'not master onny more. That's aw enden 'twixt +him and me.' + +'Have you left his work, Stephen?' asked Rachael, anxiously and +quickly. + +'Why, Rachael,' he replied, 'whether I ha lef'n his work, or +whether his work ha lef'n me, cooms t' th' same. His work and me +are parted. 'Tis as weel so - better, I were thinkin when yo coom +up wi' me. It would ha brought'n trouble upon trouble if I had +stayed theer. Haply 'tis a kindness to monny that I go; haply 'tis +a kindness to myseln; anyways it mun be done. I mun turn my face +fro Coketown fur th' time, and seek a fort'n, dear, by beginnin +fresh.' + +'Where will you go, Stephen?' + +'I donno t'night,' said he, lifting off his hat, and smoothing his +thin hair with the flat of his hand. 'But I'm not goin t'night, +Rachael, nor yet t'morrow. 'Tan't easy overmuch t' know wheer t' +turn, but a good heart will coom to me.' + +Herein, too, the sense of even thinking unselfishly aided him. +Before he had so much as closed Mr. Bounderby's door, he had +reflected that at least his being obliged to go away was good for +her, as it would save her from the chance of being brought into +question for not withdrawing from him. Though it would cost him a +hard pang to leave her, and though he could think of no similar +place in which his condemnation would not pursue him, perhaps it +was almost a relief to be forced away from the endurance of the +last four days, even to unknown difficulties and distresses. + +So he said, with truth, 'I'm more leetsome, Rachael, under 't, than +I could'n ha believed.' It was not her part to make his burden +heavier. She answered with her comforting smile, and the three +walked on together. + +Age, especially when it strives to be self-reliant and cheerful, +finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so +decent and contented, and made so light of her infirmities, though +they had increased upon her since her former interview with +Stephen, that they both took an interest in her. She was too +sprightly to allow of their walking at a slow pace on her account, +but she was very grateful to be talked to, and very willing to talk +to any extent: so, when they came to their part of the town, she +was more brisk and vivacious than ever. + +'Come to my poor place, missus,' said Stephen, 'and tak a coop o' +tea. Rachael will coom then; and arterwards I'll see thee safe t' +thy Travellers' lodgin. 'T may be long, Rachael, ere ever I ha th' +chance o' thy coompany agen.' + +They complied, and the three went on to the house where he lodged. +When they turned into a narrow street, Stephen glanced at his +window with a dread that always haunted his desolate home; but it +was open, as he had left it, and no one was there. The evil spirit +of his life had flitted away again, months ago, and he had heard no +more of her since. The only evidence of her last return now, were +the scantier moveables in his room, and the grayer hair upon his +head. + +He lighted a candle, set out his little tea-board, got hot water +from below, and brought in small portions of tea and sugar, a loaf, +and some butter from the nearest shop. The bread was new and +crusty, the butter fresh, and the sugar lump, of course - in +fulfilment of the standard testimony of the Coketown magnates, that +these people lived like princes, sir. Rachael made the tea (so +large a party necessitated the borrowing of a cup), and the visitor +enjoyed it mightily. It was the first glimpse of sociality the +host had had for many days. He too, with the world a wide heath +before him, enjoyed the meal - again in corroboration of the +magnates, as exemplifying the utter want of calculation on the part +of these people, sir. + +'I ha never thowt yet, missus,' said Stephen, 'o' askin thy name.' + +The old lady announced herself as 'Mrs. Pegler.' + +'A widder, I think?' said Stephen. + +'Oh, many long years!' Mrs. Pegler's husband (one of the best on +record) was already dead, by Mrs. Pegler's calculation, when +Stephen was born. + +''Twere a bad job, too, to lose so good a one,' said Stephen. +'Onny children?' + +Mrs. Pegler's cup, rattling against her saucer as she held it, +denoted some nervousness on her part. 'No,' she said. 'Not now, +not now.' + +'Dead, Stephen,' Rachael softly hinted. + +'I'm sooary I ha spok'n on 't,' said Stephen, 'I ought t' hadn in +my mind as I might touch a sore place. I - I blame myseln.' + +While he excused himself, the old lady's cup rattled more and more. +'I had a son,' she said, curiously distressed, and not by any of +the usual appearances of sorrow; 'and he did well, wonderfully +well. But he is not to be spoken of if you please. He is - ' +Putting down her cup, she moved her hands as if she would have +added, by her action, 'dead!' Then she said aloud, 'I have lost +him.' + +Stephen had not yet got the better of his having given the old lady +pain, when his landlady came stumbling up the narrow stairs, and +calling him to the door, whispered in his ear. Mrs. Pegler was by +no means deaf, for she caught a word as it was uttered. + +'Bounderby!' she cried, in a suppressed voice, starting up from the +table. 'Oh hide me! Don't let me be seen for the world. Don't +let him come up till I've got away. Pray, pray!' She trembled, +and was excessively agitated; getting behind Rachael, when Rachael +tried to reassure her; and not seeming to know what she was about. + +'But hearken, missus, hearken,' said Stephen, astonished. "Tisn't +Mr. Bounderby; 'tis his wife. Yo'r not fearfo' o' her. Yo was +hey-go-mad about her, but an hour sin.' + +'But are you sure it's the lady, and not the gentleman?' she asked, +still trembling. + +'Certain sure!' + +'Well then, pray don't speak to me, nor yet take any notice of me,' +said the old woman. 'Let me be quite to myself in this corner.' + +Stephen nodded; looking to Rachael for an explanation, which she +was quite unable to give him; took the candle, went downstairs, and +in a few moments returned, lighting Louisa into the room. She was +followed by the whelp. + +Rachael had risen, and stood apart with her shawl and bonnet in her +hand, when Stephen, himself profoundly astonished by this visit, +put the candle on the table. Then he too stood, with his doubled +hand upon the table near it, waiting to be addressed. + +For the first time in her life Louisa had come into one of the +dwellings of the Coketown Hands; for the first time in her life she +was face to face with anything like individuality in connection +with them. She knew of their existence by hundreds and by +thousands. She knew what results in work a given number of them +would produce in a given space of time. She knew them in crowds +passing to and from their nests, like ants or beetles. But she +knew from her reading infinitely more of the ways of toiling +insects than of these toiling men and women. + +Something to be worked so much and paid so much, and there ended; +something to be infallibly settled by laws of supply and demand; +something that blundered against those laws, and floundered into +difficulty; something that was a little pinched when wheat was +dear, and over-ate itself when wheat was cheap; something that +increased at such a rate of percentage, and yielded such another +percentage of crime, and such another percentage of pauperism; +something wholesale, of which vast fortunes were made; something +that occasionally rose like a sea, and did some harm and waste +(chiefly to itself), and fell again; this she knew the Coketown +Hands to be. But, she had scarcely thought more of separating them +into units, than of separating the sea itself into its component +drops. + +She stood for some moments looking round the room. From the few +chairs, the few books, the common prints, and the bed, she glanced +to the two women, and to Stephen. + +'I have come to speak to you, in consequence of what passed just +now. I should like to be serviceable to you, if you will let me. +Is this your wife?' + +Rachael raised her eyes, and they sufficiently answered no, and +dropped again. + +'I remember,' said Louisa, reddening at her mistake; 'I recollect, +now, to have heard your domestic misfortunes spoken of, though I +was not attending to the particulars at the time. It was not my +meaning to ask a question that would give pain to any one here. If +I should ask any other question that may happen to have that +result, give me credit, if you please, for being in ignorance how +to speak to you as I ought.' + +As Stephen had but a little while ago instinctively addressed +himself to her, so she now instinctively addressed herself to +Rachael. Her manner was short and abrupt, yet faltering and timid. + +'He has told you what has passed between himself and my husband? +You would be his first resource, I think.' + +'I have heard the end of it, young lady,' said Rachael. + +'Did I understand, that, being rejected by one employer, he would +probably be rejected by all? I thought he said as much?' + +'The chances are very small, young lady - next to nothing - for a +man who gets a bad name among them.' + +'What shall I understand that you mean by a bad name?' + +'The name of being troublesome.' + +'Then, by the prejudices of his own class, and by the prejudices of +the other, he is sacrificed alike? Are the two so deeply separated +in this town, that there is no place whatever for an honest workman +between them?' + +Rachael shook her head in silence. + +'He fell into suspicion,' said Louisa, 'with his fellow-weavers, +because - he had made a promise not to be one of them. I think it +must have been to you that he made that promise. Might I ask you +why he made it?' + +Rachael burst into tears. 'I didn't seek it of him, poor lad. I +prayed him to avoid trouble for his own good, little thinking he'd +come to it through me. But I know he'd die a hundred deaths, ere +ever he'd break his word. I know that of him well.' + +Stephen had remained quietly attentive, in his usual thoughtful +attitude, with his hand at his chin. He now spoke in a voice +rather less steady than usual. + +'No one, excepting myseln, can ever know what honour, an' what +love, an' respect, I bear to Rachael, or wi' what cause. When I +passed that promess, I towd her true, she were th' Angel o' my +life. 'Twere a solemn promess. 'Tis gone fro' me, for ever.' + +Louisa turned her head to him, and bent it with a deference that +was new in her. She looked from him to Rachael, and her features +softened. 'What will you do?' she asked him. And her voice had +softened too. + +'Weel, ma'am,' said Stephen, making the best of it, with a smile; +'when I ha finished off, I mun quit this part, and try another. +Fortnet or misfortnet, a man can but try; there's nowt to be done +wi'out tryin' - cept laying down and dying.' + +'How will you travel?' + +'Afoot, my kind ledy, afoot.' + +Louisa coloured, and a purse appeared in her hand. The rustling of +a bank-note was audible, as she unfolded one and laid it on the +table. + +'Rachael, will you tell him - for you know how, without offence - +that this is freely his, to help him on his way? Will you entreat +him to take it?' + +'I canna do that, young lady,' she answered, turning her head +aside. 'Bless you for thinking o' the poor lad wi' such +tenderness. But 'tis for him to know his heart, and what is right +according to it.' + +Louisa looked, in part incredulous, in part frightened, in part +overcome with quick sympathy, when this man of so much self- +command, who had been so plain and steady through the late +interview, lost his composure in a moment, and now stood with his +hand before his face. She stretched out hers, as if she would have +touched him; then checked herself, and remained still. + +'Not e'en Rachael,' said Stephen, when he stood again with his face +uncovered, 'could mak sitch a kind offerin, by onny words, kinder. +T' show that I'm not a man wi'out reason and gratitude, I'll tak +two pound. I'll borrow 't for t' pay 't back. 'Twill be the +sweetest work as ever I ha done, that puts it in my power t' +acknowledge once more my lastin thankfulness for this present +action.' + +She was fain to take up the note again, and to substitute the much +smaller sum he had named. He was neither courtly, nor handsome, +nor picturesque, in any respect; and yet his manner of accepting +it, and of expressing his thanks without more words, had a grace in +it that Lord Chesterfield could not have taught his son in a +century. + +Tom had sat upon the bed, swinging one leg and sucking his walking- +stick with sufficient unconcern, until the visit had attained this +stage. Seeing his sister ready to depart, he got up, rather +hurriedly, and put in a word. + +'Just wait a moment, Loo! Before we go, I should like to speak to +him a moment. Something comes into my head. If you'll step out on +the stairs, Blackpool, I'll mention it. Never mind a light, man!' +Tom was remarkably impatient of his moving towards the cupboard, to +get one. 'It don't want a light.' + +Stephen followed him out, and Tom closed the room door, and held +the lock in his hand. + +'I say!' he whispered. 'I think I can do you a good turn. Don't +ask me what it is, because it may not come to anything. But +there's no harm in my trying.' + +His breath fell like a flame of fire on Stephen's ear, it was so +hot. + +'That was our light porter at the Bank,' said Tom, 'who brought you +the message to-night. I call him our light porter, because I +belong to the Bank too.' + +Stephen thought, 'What a hurry he is in!' He spoke so confusedly. + +'Well!' said Tom. 'Now look here! When are you off?' + +'T' day's Monday,' replied Stephen, considering. 'Why, sir, Friday +or Saturday, nigh 'bout.' + +'Friday or Saturday,' said Tom. 'Now look here! I am not sure +that I can do you the good turn I want to do you - that's my +sister, you know, in your room - but I may be able to, and if I +should not be able to, there's no harm done. So I tell you what. +You'll know our light porter again?' + +'Yes, sure,' said Stephen. + +'Very well,' returned Tom. 'When you leave work of a night, +between this and your going away, just hang about the Bank an hour +or so, will you? Don't take on, as if you meant anything, if he +should see you hanging about there; because I shan't put him up to +speak to you, unless I find I can do you the service I want to do +you. In that case he'll have a note or a message for you, but not +else. Now look here! You are sure you understand.' + +He had wormed a finger, in the darkness, through a button-hole of +Stephen's coat, and was screwing that corner of the garment tight +up round and round, in an extraordinary manner. + +'I understand, sir,' said Stephen. + +'Now look here!' repeated Tom. 'Be sure you don't make any mistake +then, and don't forget. I shall tell my sister as we go home, what +I have in view, and she'll approve, I know. Now look here! You're +all right, are you? You understand all about it? Very well then. +Come along, Loo!' + +He pushed the door open as he called to her, but did not return +into the room, or wait to be lighted down the narrow stairs. He +was at the bottom when she began to descend, and was in the street +before she could take his arm. + +Mrs. Pegler remained in her corner until the brother and sister +were gone, and until Stephen came back with the candle in his hand. +She was in a state of inexpressible admiration of Mrs. Bounderby, +and, like an unaccountable old woman, wept, 'because she was such a +pretty dear.' Yet Mrs. Pegler was so flurried lest the object of +her admiration should return by chance, or anybody else should +come, that her cheerfulness was ended for that night. It was late +too, to people who rose early and worked hard; therefore the party +broke up; and Stephen and Rachael escorted their mysterious +acquaintance to the door of the Travellers' Coffee House, where +they parted from her. + +They walked back together to the corner of the street where Rachael +lived, and as they drew nearer and nearer to it, silence crept upon +them. When they came to the dark corner where their unfrequent +meetings always ended, they stopped, still silent, as if both were +afraid to speak. + +'I shall strive t' see thee agen, Rachael, afore I go, but if not - +' + +'Thou wilt not, Stephen, I know. 'Tis better that we make up our +minds to be open wi' one another.' + +'Thou'rt awlus right. 'Tis bolder and better. I ha been thinkin +then, Rachael, that as 'tis but a day or two that remains, 'twere +better for thee, my dear, not t' be seen wi' me. 'T might bring +thee into trouble, fur no good.' + +''Tis not for that, Stephen, that I mind. But thou know'st our old +agreement. 'Tis for that.' + +'Well, well,' said he. "Tis better, onnyways.' + +'Thou'lt write to me, and tell me all that happens, Stephen?' + +'Yes. What can I say now, but Heaven be wi' thee, Heaven bless +thee, Heaven thank thee and reward thee!' + +'May it bless thee, Stephen, too, in all thy wanderings, and send +thee peace and rest at last!' + +'I towd thee, my dear,' said Stephen Blackpool - 'that night - that +I would never see or think o' onnything that angered me, but thou, +so much better than me, should'st be beside it. Thou'rt beside it +now. Thou mak'st me see it wi' a better eye. Bless thee. Good +night. Good-bye!' + +It was but a hurried parting in a common street, yet it was a +sacred remembrance to these two common people. Utilitarian +economists, skeletons of schoolmasters, Commissioners of Fact, +genteel and used-up infidels, gabblers of many little dog's-eared +creeds, the poor you will have always with you. Cultivate in them, +while there is yet time, the utmost graces of the fancies and +affections, to adorn their lives so much in need of ornament; or, +in the day of your triumph, when romance is utterly driven out of +their souls, and they and a bare existence stand face to face, +Reality will take a wolfish turn, and make an end of you. + +Stephen worked the next day, and the next, uncheered by a word from +any one, and shunned in all his comings and goings as before. At +the end of the second day, he saw land; at the end of the third, +his loom stood empty. + +He had overstayed his hour in the street outside the Bank, on each +of the two first evenings; and nothing had happened there, good or +bad. That he might not be remiss in his part of the engagement, he +resolved to wait full two hours, on this third and last night. + +There was the lady who had once kept Mr. Bounderby's house, sitting +at the first-floor window as he had seen her before; and there was +the light porter, sometimes talking with her there, and sometimes +looking over the blind below which had BANK upon it, and sometimes +coming to the door and standing on the steps for a breath of air. +When he first came out, Stephen thought he might be looking for +him, and passed near; but the light porter only cast his winking +eyes upon him slightly, and said nothing. + +Two hours were a long stretch of lounging about, after a long day's +labour. Stephen sat upon the step of a door, leaned against a wall +under an archway, strolled up and down, listened for the church +clock, stopped and watched children playing in the street. Some +purpose or other is so natural to every one, that a mere loiterer +always looks and feels remarkable. When the first hour was out, +Stephen even began to have an uncomfortable sensation upon him of +being for the time a disreputable character. + +Then came the lamplighter, and two lengthening lines of light all +down the long perspective of the street, until they were blended +and lost in the distance. Mrs. Sparsit closed the first-floor +window, drew down the blind, and went up-stairs. Presently, a +light went up-stairs after her, passing first the fanlight of the +door, and afterwards the two staircase windows, on its way up. By +and by, one corner of the second-floor blind was disturbed, as if +Mrs. Sparsit's eye were there; also the other corner, as if the +light porter's eye were on that side. Still, no communication was +made to Stephen. Much relieved when the two hours were at last +accomplished, he went away at a quick pace, as a recompense for so +much loitering. + +He had only to take leave of his landlady, and lie down on his +temporary bed upon the floor; for his bundle was made up for to- +morrow, and all was arranged for his departure. He meant to be +clear of the town very early; before the Hands were in the streets. + +It was barely daybreak, when, with a parting look round his room, +mournfully wondering whether he should ever see it again, he went +out. The town was as entirely deserted as if the inhabitants had +abandoned it, rather than hold communication with him. Everything +looked wan at that hour. Even the coming sun made but a pale waste +in the sky, like a sad sea. + +By the place where Rachael lived, though it was not in his way; by +the red brick streets; by the great silent factories, not trembling +yet; by the railway, where the danger-lights were waning in the +strengthening day; by the railway's crazy neighbourhood, half +pulled down and half built up; by scattered red brick villas, where +the besmoked evergreens were sprinkled with a dirty powder, like +untidy snuff-takers; by coal-dust paths and many varieties of +ugliness; Stephen got to the top of the hill, and looked back. + +Day was shining radiantly upon the town then, and the bells were +going for the morning work. Domestic fires were not yet lighted, +and the high chimneys had the sky to themselves. Puffing out their +poisonous volumes, they would not be long in hiding it; but, for +half an hour, some of the many windows were golden, which showed +the Coketown people a sun eternally in eclipse, through a medium of +smoked glass. + +So strange to turn from the chimneys to the birds. So strange, to +have the road-dust on his feet instead of the coal-grit. So +strange to have lived to his time of life, and yet to be beginning +like a boy this summer morning! With these musings in his mind, +and his bundle under his arm, Stephen took his attentive face along +the high road. And the trees arched over him, whispering that he +left a true and loving heart behind. + + + +CHAPTER VII - GUNPOWDER + + + +MR. JAMES HARTHOUSE, 'going in' for his adopted party, soon began +to score. With the aid of a little more coaching for the political +sages, a little more genteel listlessness for the general society, +and a tolerable management of the assumed honesty in dishonesty, +most effective and most patronized of the polite deadly sins, he +speedily came to be considered of much promise. The not being +troubled with earnestness was a grand point in his favour, enabling +him to take to the hard Fact fellows with as good a grace as if he +had been born one of the tribe, and to throw all other tribes +overboard, as conscious hypocrites. + +'Whom none of us believe, my dear Mrs. Bounderby, and who do not +believe themselves. The only difference between us and the +professors of virtue or benevolence, or philanthropy - never mind +the name - is, that we know it is all meaningless, and say so; +while they know it equally and will never say so.' + +Why should she be shocked or warned by this reiteration? It was +not so unlike her father's principles, and her early training, that +it need startle her. Where was the great difference between the +two schools, when each chained her down to material realities, and +inspired her with no faith in anything else? What was there in her +soul for James Harthouse to destroy, which Thomas Gradgrind had +nurtured there in its state of innocence! + +It was even the worse for her at this pass, that in her mind - +implanted there before her eminently practical father began to form +it - a struggling disposition to believe in a wider and nobler +humanity than she had ever heard of, constantly strove with doubts +and resentments. With doubts, because the aspiration had been so +laid waste in her youth. With resentments, because of the wrong +that had been done her, if it were indeed a whisper of the truth. +Upon a nature long accustomed to self-suppression, thus torn and +divided, the Harthouse philosophy came as a relief and +justification. Everything being hollow and worthless, she had +missed nothing and sacrificed nothing. What did it matter, she had +said to her father, when he proposed her husband. What did it +matter, she said still. With a scornful self-reliance, she asked +herself, What did anything matter - and went on. + +Towards what? Step by step, onward and downward, towards some end, +yet so gradually, that she believed herself to remain motionless. +As to Mr. Harthouse, whither he tended, he neither considered nor +cared. He had no particular design or plan before him: no +energetic wickedness ruffled his lassitude. He was as much amused +and interested, at present, as it became so fine a gentleman to be; +perhaps even more than it would have been consistent with his +reputation to confess. Soon after his arrival he languidly wrote +to his brother, the honourable and jocular member, that the +Bounderbys were 'great fun;' and further, that the female +Bounderby, instead of being the Gorgon he had expected, was young, +and remarkably pretty. After that, he wrote no more about them, +and devoted his leisure chiefly to their house. He was very often +in their house, in his flittings and visitings about the Coketown +district; and was much encouraged by Mr. Bounderby. It was quite +in Mr. Bounderby's gusty way to boast to all his world that he +didn't care about your highly connected people, but that if his +wife Tom Gradgrind's daughter did, she was welcome to their +company. + +Mr. James Harthouse began to think it would be a new sensation, if +the face which changed so beautifully for the whelp, would change +for him. + +He was quick enough to observe; he had a good memory, and did not +forget a word of the brother's revelations. He interwove them with +everything he saw of the sister, and he began to understand her. +To be sure, the better and profounder part of her character was not +within his scope of perception; for in natures, as in seas, depth +answers unto depth; but he soon began to read the rest with a +student's eye. + +Mr. Bounderby had taken possession of a house and grounds, about +fifteen miles from the town, and accessible within a mile or two, +by a railway striding on many arches over a wild country, +undermined by deserted coal-shafts, and spotted at night by fires +and black shapes of stationary engines at pits' mouths. This +country, gradually softening towards the neighbourhood of Mr. +Bounderby's retreat, there mellowed into a rustic landscape, golden +with heath, and snowy with hawthorn in the spring of the year, and +tremulous with leaves and their shadows all the summer time. The +bank had foreclosed a mortgage effected on the property thus +pleasantly situated, by one of the Coketown magnates, who, in his +determination to make a shorter cut than usual to an enormous +fortune, overspeculated himself by about two hundred thousand +pounds. These accidents did sometimes happen in the best regulated +families of Coketown, but the bankrupts had no connexion whatever +with the improvident classes. + +It afforded Mr. Bounderby supreme satisfaction to instal himself in +this snug little estate, and with demonstrative humility to grow +cabbages in the flower-garden. He delighted to live, barrack- +fashion, among the elegant furniture, and he bullied the very +pictures with his origin. 'Why, sir,' he would say to a visitor, +'I am told that Nickits,' the late owner, 'gave seven hundred pound +for that Seabeach. Now, to be plain with you, if I ever, in the +whole course of my life, take seven looks at it, at a hundred pound +a look, it will be as much as I shall do. No, by George! I don't +forget that I am Josiah Bounderby of Coketown. For years upon +years, the only pictures in my possession, or that I could have got +into my possession, by any means, unless I stole 'em, were the +engravings of a man shaving himself in a boot, on the blacking +bottles that I was overjoyed to use in cleaning boots with, and +that I sold when they were empty for a farthing a-piece, and glad +to get it!' + +Then he would address Mr. Harthouse in the same style. + +'Harthouse, you have a couple of horses down here. Bring half a +dozen more if you like, and we'll find room for 'em. There's +stabling in this place for a dozen horses; and unless Nickits is +belied, he kept the full number. A round dozen of 'em, sir. When +that man was a boy, he went to Westminster School. Went to +Westminster School as a King's Scholar, when I was principally +living on garbage, and sleeping in market baskets. Why, if I +wanted to keep a dozen horses - which I don't, for one's enough for +me - I couldn't bear to see 'em in their stalls here, and think +what my own lodging used to be. I couldn't look at 'em, sir, and +not order 'em out. Yet so things come round. You see this place; +you know what sort of a place it is; you are aware that there's not +a completer place of its size in this kingdom or elsewhere - I +don't care where - and here, got into the middle of it, like a +maggot into a nut, is Josiah Bounderby. While Nickits (as a man +came into my office, and told me yesterday), Nickits, who used to +act in Latin, in the Westminster School plays, with the chief- +justices and nobility of this country applauding him till they were +black in the face, is drivelling at this minute - drivelling, sir! +- in a fifth floor, up a narrow dark back street in Antwerp.' + +It was among the leafy shadows of this retirement, in the long +sultry summer days, that Mr. Harthouse began to prove the face +which had set him wondering when he first saw it, and to try if it +would change for him. + +'Mrs. Bounderby, I esteem it a most fortunate accident that I find +you alone here. I have for some time had a particular wish to +speak to you.' + +It was not by any wonderful accident that he found her, the time of +day being that at which she was always alone, and the place being +her favourite resort. It was an opening in a dark wood, where some +felled trees lay, and where she would sit watching the fallen +leaves of last year, as she had watched the falling ashes at home. + +He sat down beside her, with a glance at her face. + +'Your brother. My young friend Tom - ' + +Her colour brightened, and she turned to him with a look of +interest. 'I never in my life,' he thought, 'saw anything so +remarkable and so captivating as the lighting of those features!' +His face betrayed his thoughts - perhaps without betraying him, for +it might have been according to its instructions so to do. + +'Pardon me. The expression of your sisterly interest is so +beautiful - Tom should be so proud of it - I know this is +inexcusable, but I am so compelled to admire.' + +'Being so impulsive,' she said composedly. + +'Mrs. Bounderby, no: you know I make no pretence with you. You +know I am a sordid piece of human nature, ready to sell myself at +any time for any reasonable sum, and altogether incapable of any +Arcadian proceeding whatever.' + +'I am waiting,' she returned, 'for your further reference to my +brother.' + +'You are rigid with me, and I deserve it. I am as worthless a dog +as you will find, except that I am not false - not false. But you +surprised and started me from my subject, which was your brother. +I have an interest in him.' + +'Have you an interest in anything, Mr. Harthouse?' she asked, half +incredulously and half gratefully. + +'If you had asked me when I first came here, I should have said no. +I must say now - even at the hazard of appearing to make a +pretence, and of justly awakening your incredulity - yes.' + +She made a slight movement, as if she were trying to speak, but +could not find voice; at length she said, 'Mr. Harthouse, I give +you credit for being interested in my brother.' + +'Thank you. I claim to deserve it. You know how little I do +claim, but I will go that length. You have done so much for him, +you are so fond of him; your whole life, Mrs. Bounderby, expresses +such charming self-forgetfulness on his account - pardon me again - +I am running wide of the subject. I am interested in him for his +own sake.' + +She had made the slightest action possible, as if she would have +risen in a hurry and gone away. He had turned the course of what +he said at that instant, and she remained. + +'Mrs. Bounderby,' he resumed, in a lighter manner, and yet with a +show of effort in assuming it, which was even more expressive than +the manner he dismissed; 'it is no irrevocable offence in a young +fellow of your brother's years, if he is heedless, inconsiderate, +and expensive - a little dissipated, in the common phrase. Is he?' + +'Yes.' + +'Allow me to be frank. Do you think he games at all?' + +'I think he makes bets.' Mr. Harthouse waiting, as if that were +not her whole answer, she added, 'I know he does.' + +'Of course he loses?' + +'Yes.' + +'Everybody does lose who bets. May I hint at the probability of +your sometimes supplying him with money for these purposes?' + +She sat, looking down; but, at this question, raised her eyes +searchingly and a little resentfully. + +'Acquit me of impertinent curiosity, my dear Mrs. Bounderby. I +think Tom may be gradually falling into trouble, and I wish to +stretch out a helping hand to him from the depths of my wicked +experience. - Shall I say again, for his sake? Is that necessary?' + +She seemed to try to answer, but nothing came of it. + +'Candidly to confess everything that has occurred to me,' said +James Harthouse, again gliding with the same appearance of effort +into his more airy manner; 'I will confide to you my doubt whether +he has had many advantages. Whether - forgive my plainness - +whether any great amount of confidence is likely to have been +established between himself and his most worthy father.' + +'I do not,' said Louisa, flushing with her own great remembrance in +that wise, 'think it likely.' + +'Or, between himself, and - I may trust to your perfect +understanding of my meaning, I am sure - and his highly esteemed +brother-in-law.' + +She flushed deeper and deeper, and was burning red when she replied +in a fainter voice, 'I do not think that likely, either.' + +'Mrs. Bounderby,' said Harthouse, after a short silence, 'may there +be a better confidence between yourself and me? Tom has borrowed a +considerable sum of you?' + +'You will understand, Mr. Harthouse,' she returned, after some +indecision: she had been more or less uncertain, and troubled +throughout the conversation, and yet had in the main preserved her +self-contained manner; 'you will understand that if I tell you what +you press to know, it is not by way of complaint or regret. I +would never complain of anything, and what I have done I do not in +the least regret.' + +'So spirited, too!' thought James Harthouse. + +'When I married, I found that my brother was even at that time +heavily in debt. Heavily for him, I mean. Heavily enough to +oblige me to sell some trinkets. They were no sacrifice. I sold +them very willingly. I attached no value to them. They, were +quite worthless to me.' + +Either she saw in his face that he knew, or she only feared in her +conscience that he knew, that she spoke of some of her husband's +gifts. She stopped, and reddened again. If he had not known it +before, he would have known it then, though he had been a much +duller man than he was. + +'Since then, I have given my brother, at various times, what money +I could spare: in short, what money I have had. Confiding in you +at all, on the faith of the interest you profess for him, I will +not do so by halves. Since you have been in the habit of visiting +here, he has wanted in one sum as much as a hundred pounds. I have +not been able to give it to him. I have felt uneasy for the +consequences of his being so involved, but I have kept these +secrets until now, when I trust them to your honour. I have held +no confidence with any one, because - you anticipated my reason +just now.' She abruptly broke off. + +He was a ready man, and he saw, and seized, an opportunity here of +presenting her own image to her, slightly disguised as her brother. + +'Mrs. Bounderby, though a graceless person, of the world worldly, I +feel the utmost interest, I assure you, in what you tell me. I +cannot possibly be hard upon your brother. I understand and share +the wise consideration with which you regard his errors. With all +possible respect both for Mr. Gradgrind and for Mr. Bounderby, I +think I perceive that he has not been fortunate in his training. +Bred at a disadvantage towards the society in which he has his part +to play, he rushes into these extremes for himself, from opposite +extremes that have long been forced - with the very best intentions +we have no doubt - upon him. Mr. Bounderby's fine bluff English +independence, though a most charming characteristic, does not - as +we have agreed - invite confidence. If I might venture to remark +that it is the least in the world deficient in that delicacy to +which a youth mistaken, a character misconceived, and abilities +misdirected, would turn for relief and guidance, I should express +what it presents to my own view.' + +As she sat looking straight before her, across the changing lights +upon the grass into the darkness of the wood beyond, he saw in her +face her application of his very distinctly uttered words. + +'All allowance,' he continued, 'must be made. I have one great +fault to find with Tom, however, which I cannot forgive, and for +which I take him heavily to account.' + +Louisa turned her eyes to his face, and asked him what fault was +that? + +'Perhaps,' he returned, 'I have said enough. Perhaps it would have +been better, on the whole, if no allusion to it had escaped me.' + +'You alarm me, Mr. Harthouse. Pray let me know it.' + +'To relieve you from needless apprehension - and as this confidence +regarding your brother, which I prize I am sure above all possible +things, has been established between us - I obey. I cannot forgive +him for not being more sensible in every word, look, and act of his +life, of the affection of his best friend; of the devotion of his +best friend; of her unselfishness; of her sacrifice. The return he +makes her, within my observation, is a very poor one. What she has +done for him demands his constant love and gratitude, not his ill- +humour and caprice. Careless fellow as I am, I am not so +indifferent, Mrs. Bounderby, as to be regardless of this vice in +your brother, or inclined to consider it a venial offence.' + +The wood floated before her, for her eyes were suffused with tears. +They rose from a deep well, long concealed, and her heart was +filled with acute pain that found no relief in them. + +'In a word, it is to correct your brother in this, Mrs. Bounderby, +that I must aspire. My better knowledge of his circumstances, and +my direction and advice in extricating them - rather valuable, I +hope, as coming from a scapegrace on a much larger scale - will +give me some influence over him, and all I gain I shall certainly +use towards this end. I have said enough, and more than enough. I +seem to be protesting that I am a sort of good fellow, when, upon +my honour, I have not the least intention to make any protestation +to that effect, and openly announce that I am nothing of the sort. +Yonder, among the trees,' he added, having lifted up his eyes and +looked about; for he had watched her closely until now; 'is your +brother himself; no doubt, just come down. As he seems to be +loitering in this direction, it may be as well, perhaps, to walk +towards him, and throw ourselves in his way. He has been very +silent and doleful of late. Perhaps, his brotherly conscience is +touched - if there are such things as consciences. Though, upon my +honour, I hear of them much too often to believe in them.' + +He assisted her to rise, and she took his arm, and they advanced to +meet the whelp. He was idly beating the branches as he lounged +along: or he stooped viciously to rip the moss from the trees with +his stick. He was startled when they came upon him while he was +engaged in this latter pastime, and his colour changed. + +'Halloa!' he stammered; 'I didn't know you were here.' + +'Whose name, Tom,' said Mr. Harthouse, putting his hand upon his +shoulder and turning him, so that they all three walked towards the +house together, 'have you been carving on the trees?' + +'Whose name?' returned Tom. 'Oh! You mean what girl's name?' + +'You have a suspicious appearance of inscribing some fair +creature's on the bark, Tom.' + +'Not much of that, Mr. Harthouse, unless some fair creature with a +slashing fortune at her own disposal would take a fancy to me. Or +she might be as ugly as she was rich, without any fear of losing +me. I'd carve her name as often as she liked.' + +'I am afraid you are mercenary, Tom.' + +'Mercenary,' repeated Tom. 'Who is not mercenary? Ask my sister.' + +'Have you so proved it to be a failing of mine, Tom?' said Louisa, +showing no other sense of his discontent and ill-nature. + +'You know whether the cap fits you, Loo,' returned her brother +sulkily. 'If it does, you can wear it.' + +'Tom is misanthropical to-day, as all bored people are now and +then,' said Mr. Harthouse. 'Don't believe him, Mrs. Bounderby. He +knows much better. I shall disclose some of his opinions of you, +privately expressed to me, unless he relents a little.' + +'At all events, Mr. Harthouse,' said Tom, softening in his +admiration of his patron, but shaking his head sullenly too, 'you +can't tell her that I ever praised her for being mercenary. I may +have praised her for being the contrary, and I should do it again, +if I had as good reason. However, never mind this now; it's not +very interesting to you, and I am sick of the subject.' + +They walked on to the house, where Louisa quitted her visitor's arm +and went in. He stood looking after her, as she ascended the +steps, and passed into the shadow of the door; then put his hand +upon her brother's shoulder again, and invited him with a +confidential nod to a walk in the garden. + +'Tom, my fine fellow, I want to have a word with you.' + +They had stopped among a disorder of roses - it was part of Mr. +Bounderby's humility to keep Nickits's roses on a reduced scale - +and Tom sat down on a terrace-parapet, plucking buds and picking +them to pieces; while his powerful Familiar stood over him, with a +foot upon the parapet, and his figure easily resting on the arm +supported by that knee. They were just visible from her window. +Perhaps she saw them. + +'Tom, what's the matter?' + +'Oh! Mr. Harthouse,' said Tom with a groan, 'I am hard up, and +bothered out of my life.' + +'My good fellow, so am I.' + +'You!' returned Tom. 'You are the picture of independence. Mr. +Harthouse, I am in a horrible mess. You have no idea what a state +I have got myself into - what a state my sister might have got me +out of, if she would only have done it.' + +He took to biting the rosebuds now, and tearing them away from his +teeth with a hand that trembled like an infirm old man's. After +one exceedingly observant look at him, his companion relapsed into +his lightest air. + +'Tom, you are inconsiderate: you expect too much of your sister. +You have had money of her, you dog, you know you have.' + +'Well, Mr. Harthouse, I know I have. How else was I to get it? +Here's old Bounderby always boasting that at my age he lived upon +twopence a month, or something of that sort. Here's my father +drawing what he calls a line, and tying me down to it from a baby, +neck and heels. Here's my mother who never has anything of her +own, except her complaints. What is a fellow to do for money, and +where am I to look for it, if not to my sister?' + +He was almost crying, and scattered the buds about by dozens. Mr. +Harthouse took him persuasively by the coat. + +'But, my dear Tom, if your sister has not got it - ' + +'Not got it, Mr. Harthouse? I don't say she has got it. I may +have wanted more than she was likely to have got. But then she +ought to get it. She could get it. It's of no use pretending to +make a secret of matters now, after what I have told you already; +you know she didn't marry old Bounderby for her own sake, or for +his sake, but for my sake. Then why doesn't she get what I want, +out of him, for my sake? She is not obliged to say what she is +going to do with it; she is sharp enough; she could manage to coax +it out of him, if she chose. Then why doesn't she choose, when I +tell her of what consequence it is? But no. There she sits in his +company like a stone, instead of making herself agreeable and +getting it easily. I don't know what you may call this, but I call +it unnatural conduct.' + +There was a piece of ornamental water immediately below the +parapet, on the other side, into which Mr. James Harthouse had a +very strong inclination to pitch Mr. Thomas Gradgrind junior, as +the injured men of Coketown threatened to pitch their property into +the Atlantic. But he preserved his easy attitude; and nothing more +solid went over the stone balustrades than the accumulated rosebuds +now floating about, a little surface-island. + +'My dear Tom,' said Harthouse, 'let me try to be your banker.' + +'For God's sake,' replied Tom, suddenly, 'don't talk about +bankers!' And very white he looked, in contrast with the roses. +Very white. + +Mr. Harthouse, as a thoroughly well-bred man, accustomed to the +best society, was not to be surprised - he could as soon have been +affected - but he raised his eyelids a little more, as if they were +lifted by a feeble touch of wonder. Albeit it was as much against +the precepts of his school to wonder, as it was against the +doctrines of the Gradgrind College. + +'What is the present need, Tom? Three figures? Out with them. +Say what they are.' + +'Mr. Harthouse,' returned Tom, now actually crying; and his tears +were better than his injuries, however pitiful a figure he made: +'it's too late; the money is of no use to me at present. I should +have had it before to be of use to me. But I am very much obliged +to you; you're a true friend.' + +A true friend! 'Whelp, whelp!' thought Mr. Harthouse, lazily; +'what an Ass you are!' + +'And I take your offer as a great kindness,' said Tom, grasping his +hand. 'As a great kindness, Mr. Harthouse.' + +'Well,' returned the other, 'it may be of more use by and by. And, +my good fellow, if you will open your bedevilments to me when they +come thick upon you, I may show you better ways out of them than +you can find for yourself.' + +'Thank you,' said Tom, shaking his head dismally, and chewing +rosebuds. 'I wish I had known you sooner, Mr. Harthouse.' + +'Now, you see, Tom,' said Mr. Harthouse in conclusion, himself +tossing over a rose or two, as a contribution to the island, which +was always drifting to the wall as if it wanted to become a part of +the mainland: 'every man is selfish in everything he does, and I +am exactly like the rest of my fellow-creatures. I am desperately +intent;' the languor of his desperation being quite tropical; 'on +your softening towards your sister - which you ought to do; and on +your being a more loving and agreeable sort of brother - which you +ought to be.' + +'I will be, Mr. Harthouse.' + +'No time like the present, Tom. Begin at once.' + +'Certainly I will. And my sister Loo shall say so.' + +'Having made which bargain, Tom,' said Harthouse, clapping him on +the shoulder again, with an air which left him at liberty to infer +- as he did, poor fool - that this condition was imposed upon him +in mere careless good nature to lessen his sense of obligation, 'we +will tear ourselves asunder until dinner-time.' + +When Tom appeared before dinner, though his mind seemed heavy +enough, his body was on the alert; and he appeared before Mr. +Bounderby came in. 'I didn't mean to be cross, Loo,' he said, +giving her his hand, and kissing her. 'I know you are fond of me, +and you know I am fond of you.' + +After this, there was a smile upon Louisa's face that day, for some +one else. Alas, for some one else! + +'So much the less is the whelp the only creature that she cares +for,' thought James Harthouse, reversing the reflection of his +first day's knowledge of her pretty face. 'So much the less, so +much the less.' + + + +CHAPTER VIII - EXPLOSION + + + +THE next morning was too bright a morning for sleep, and James +Harthouse rose early, and sat in the pleasant bay window of his +dressing-room, smoking the rare tobacco that had had so wholesome +an influence on his young friend. Reposing in the sunlight, with +the fragrance of his eastern pipe about him, and the dreamy smoke +vanishing into the air, so rich and soft with summer odours, he +reckoned up his advantages as an idle winner might count his gains. +He was not at all bored for the time, and could give his mind to +it. + +He had established a confidence with her, from which her husband +was excluded. He had established a confidence with her, that +absolutely turned upon her indifference towards her husband, and +the absence, now and at all times, of any congeniality between +them. He had artfully, but plainly, assured her that he knew her +heart in its last most delicate recesses; he had come so near to +her through its tenderest sentiment; he had associated himself with +that feeling; and the barrier behind which she lived, had melted +away. All very odd, and very satisfactory! + +And yet he had not, even now, any earnest wickedness of purpose in +him. Publicly and privately, it were much better for the age in +which he lived, that he and the legion of whom he was one were +designedly bad, than indifferent and purposeless. It is the +drifting icebergs setting with any current anywhere, that wreck the +ships. + +When the Devil goeth about like a roaring lion, he goeth about in a +shape by which few but savages and hunters are attracted. But, +when he is trimmed, smoothed, and varnished, according to the mode; +when he is aweary of vice, and aweary of virtue, used up as to +brimstone, and used up as to bliss; then, whether he take to the +serving out of red tape, or to the kindling of red fire, he is the +very Devil. + +So James Harthouse reclined in the window, indolently smoking, and +reckoning up the steps he had taken on the road by which he +happened to be travelling. The end to which it led was before him, +pretty plainly; but he troubled himself with no calculations about +it. What will be, will be. + +As he had rather a long ride to take that day - for there was a +public occasion 'to do' at some distance, which afforded a +tolerable opportunity of going in for the Gradgrind men - he +dressed early and went down to breakfast. He was anxious to see if +she had relapsed since the previous evening. No. He resumed where +he had left off. There was a look of interest for him again. + +He got through the day as much (or as little) to his own +satisfaction, as was to be expected under the fatiguing +circumstances; and came riding back at six o'clock. There was a +sweep of some half-mile between the lodge and the house, and he was +riding along at a foot pace over the smooth gravel, once Nickits's, +when Mr. Bounderby burst out of the shrubbery, with such violence +as to make his horse shy across the road. + +'Harthouse!' cried Mr. Bounderby. 'Have you heard?' + +'Heard what?' said Harthouse, soothing his horse, and inwardly +favouring Mr. Bounderby with no good wishes. + +'Then you haven't heard!' + +'I have heard you, and so has this brute. I have heard nothing +else.' + +Mr. Bounderby, red and hot, planted himself in the centre of the +path before the horse's head, to explode his bombshell with more +effect. + +'The Bank's robbed!' + +'You don't mean it!' + +'Robbed last night, sir. Robbed in an extraordinary manner. +Robbed with a false key.' + +'Of much?' + +Mr. Bounderby, in his desire to make the most of it, really seemed +mortified by being obliged to reply, 'Why, no; not of very much. +But it might have been.' + +'Of how much?' + +'Oh! as a sum - if you stick to a sum - of not more than a hundred +and fifty pound,' said Bounderby, with impatience. 'But it's not +the sum; it's the fact. It's the fact of the Bank being robbed, +that's the important circumstance. I am surprised you don't see +it.' + +'My dear Bounderby,' said James, dismounting, and giving his bridle +to his servant, 'I do see it; and am as overcome as you can +possibly desire me to be, by the spectacle afforded to my mental +view. Nevertheless, I may be allowed, I hope, to congratulate you +- which I do with all my soul, I assure you - on your not having +sustained a greater loss.' + +'Thank'ee,' replied Bounderby, in a short, ungracious manner. 'But +I tell you what. It might have been twenty thousand pound.' + +'I suppose it might.' + +'Suppose it might! By the Lord, you may suppose so. By George!' +said Mr. Bounderby, with sundry menacing nods and shakes of his +head. 'It might have been twice twenty. There's no knowing what +it would have been, or wouldn't have been, as it was, but for the +fellows' being disturbed.' + +Louisa had come up now, and Mrs. Sparsit, and Bitzer. + +'Here's Tom Gradgrind's daughter knows pretty well what it might +have been, if you don't,' blustered Bounderby. 'Dropped, sir, as +if she was shot when I told her! Never knew her do such a thing +before. Does her credit, under the circumstances, in my opinion!' + +She still looked faint and pale. James Harthouse begged her to +take his arm; and as they moved on very slowly, asked her how the +robbery had been committed. + +'Why, I am going to tell you,' said Bounderby, irritably giving his +arm to Mrs. Sparsit. 'If you hadn't been so mighty particular +about the sum, I should have begun to tell you before. You know +this lady (for she is a lady), Mrs. Sparsit?' + +'I have already had the honour - ' + +'Very well. And this young man, Bitzer, you saw him too on the +same occasion?' Mr. Harthouse inclined his head in assent, and +Bitzer knuckled his forehead. + +'Very well. They live at the Bank. You know they live at the +Bank, perhaps? Very well. Yesterday afternoon, at the close of +business hours, everything was put away as usual. In the iron room +that this young fellow sleeps outside of, there was never mind how +much. In the little safe in young Tom's closet, the safe used for +petty purposes, there was a hundred and fifty odd pound.' + +'A hundred and fifty-four, seven, one,' said Bitzer. + +'Come!' retorted Bounderby, stopping to wheel round upon him, +'let's have none of your interruptions. It's enough to be robbed +while you're snoring because you're too comfortable, without being +put right with your four seven ones. I didn't snore, myself, when +I was your age, let me tell you. I hadn't victuals enough to +snore. And I didn't four seven one. Not if I knew it.' + +Bitzer knuckled his forehead again, in a sneaking manner, and +seemed at once particularly impressed and depressed by the instance +last given of Mr. Bounderby's moral abstinence. + +'A hundred and fifty odd pound,' resumed Mr. Bounderby. 'That sum +of money, young Tom locked in his safe, not a very strong safe, but +that's no matter now. Everything was left, all right. Some time +in the night, while this young fellow snored - Mrs. Sparsit, ma'am, +you say you have heard him snore?' + +'Sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit, 'I cannot say that I have heard him +precisely snore, and therefore must not make that statement. But +on winter evenings, when he has fallen asleep at his table, I have +heard him, what I should prefer to describe as partially choke. I +have heard him on such occasions produce sounds of a nature similar +to what may be sometimes heard in Dutch clocks. Not,' said Mrs. +Sparsit, with a lofty sense of giving strict evidence, 'that I +would convey any imputation on his moral character. Far from it. +I have always considered Bitzer a young man of the most upright +principle; and to that I beg to bear my testimony.' + +'Well!' said the exasperated Bounderby, 'while he was snoring, or +choking, or Dutch-clocking, or something or other - being asleep - +some fellows, somehow, whether previously concealed in the house or +not remains to be seen, got to young Tom's safe, forced it, and +abstracted the contents. Being then disturbed, they made off; +letting themselves out at the main door, and double-locking it +again (it was double-locked, and the key under Mrs. Sparsit's +pillow) with a false key, which was picked up in the street near +the Bank, about twelve o'clock to-day. No alarm takes place, till +this chap, Bitzer, turns out this morning, and begins to open and +prepare the offices for business. Then, looking at Tom's safe, he +sees the door ajar, and finds the lock forced, and the money gone.' + +'Where is Tom, by the by?' asked Harthouse, glancing round. + +'He has been helping the police,' said Bounderby, 'and stays behind +at the Bank. I wish these fellows had tried to rob me when I was +at his time of life. They would have been out of pocket if they +had invested eighteenpence in the job; I can tell 'em that.' + +'Is anybody suspected?' + +'Suspected? I should think there was somebody suspected. Egod!' +said Bounderby, relinquishing Mrs. Sparsit's arm to wipe his heated +head. 'Josiah Bounderby of Coketown is not to be plundered and +nobody suspected. No, thank you!' + +Might Mr. Harthouse inquire Who was suspected? + +'Well,' said Bounderby, stopping and facing about to confront them +all, 'I'll tell you. It's not to be mentioned everywhere; it's not +to be mentioned anywhere: in order that the scoundrels concerned +(there's a gang of 'em) may be thrown off their guard. So take +this in confidence. Now wait a bit.' Mr. Bounderby wiped his head +again. 'What should you say to;' here he violently exploded: 'to +a Hand being in it?' + +'I hope,' said Harthouse, lazily, 'not our friend Blackpot?' + +'Say Pool instead of Pot, sir,' returned Bounderby, 'and that's the +man.' + +Louisa faintly uttered some word of incredulity and surprise. + +'O yes! I know!' said Bounderby, immediately catching at the +sound. 'I know! I am used to that. I know all about it. They +are the finest people in the world, these fellows are. They have +got the gift of the gab, they have. They only want to have their +rights explained to them, they do. But I tell you what. Show me a +dissatisfied Hand, and I'll show you a man that's fit for anything +bad, I don't care what it is.' + +Another of the popular fictions of Coketown, which some pains had +been taken to disseminate - and which some people really believed. + +'But I am acquainted with these chaps,' said Bounderby. 'I can +read 'em off, like books. Mrs. Sparsit, ma'am, I appeal to you. +What warning did I give that fellow, the first time he set foot in +the house, when the express object of his visit was to know how he +could knock Religion over, and floor the Established Church? Mrs. +Sparsit, in point of high connexions, you are on a level with the +aristocracy, - did I say, or did I not say, to that fellow, "you +can't hide the truth from me: you are not the kind of fellow I +like; you'll come to no good"?' + +'Assuredly, sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit, 'you did, in a highly +impressive manner, give him such an admonition.' + +'When he shocked you, ma'am,' said Bounderby; 'when he shocked your +feelings?' + +'Yes, sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit, with a meek shake of her head, +'he certainly did so. Though I do not mean to say but that my +feelings may be weaker on such points - more foolish if the term is +preferred - than they might have been, if I had always occupied my +present position.' + +Mr. Bounderby stared with a bursting pride at Mr. Harthouse, as +much as to say, 'I am the proprietor of this female, and she's +worth your attention, I think.' Then, resumed his discourse. + +'You can recall for yourself, Harthouse, what I said to him when +you saw him. I didn't mince the matter with him. I am never mealy +with 'em. I KNOW 'em. Very well, sir. Three days after that, he +bolted. Went off, nobody knows where: as my mother did in my +infancy - only with this difference, that he is a worse subject +than my mother, if possible. What did he do before he went? What +do you say;' Mr. Bounderby, with his hat in his hand, gave a beat +upon the crown at every little division of his sentences, as if it +were a tambourine; 'to his being seen - night after night - +watching the Bank? - to his lurking about there - after dark? - To +its striking Mrs. Sparsit - that he could be lurking for no good - +To her calling Bitzer's attention to him, and their both taking +notice of him - And to its appearing on inquiry to-day - that he +was also noticed by the neighbours?' Having come to the climax, +Mr. Bounderby, like an oriental dancer, put his tambourine on his +head. + +'Suspicious,' said James Harthouse, 'certainly.' + +'I think so, sir,' said Bounderby, with a defiant nod. 'I think +so. But there are more of 'em in it. There's an old woman. One +never hears of these things till the mischief's done; all sorts of +defects are found out in the stable door after the horse is stolen; +there's an old woman turns up now. An old woman who seems to have +been flying into town on a broomstick, every now and then. She +watches the place a whole day before this fellow begins, and on the +night when you saw him, she steals away with him and holds a +council with him - I suppose, to make her report on going off duty, +and be damned to her.' + +There was such a person in the room that night, and she shrunk from +observation, thought Louisa. + +'This is not all of 'em, even as we already know 'em,' said +Bounderby, with many nods of hidden meaning. 'But I have said +enough for the present. You'll have the goodness to keep it quiet, +and mention it to no one. It may take time, but we shall have 'em. +It's policy to give 'em line enough, and there's no objection to +that.' + +'Of course, they will be punished with the utmost rigour of the +law, as notice-boards observe,' replied James Harthouse, 'and serve +them right. Fellows who go in for Banks must take the +consequences. If there were no consequences, we should all go in +for Banks.' He had gently taken Louisa's parasol from her hand, +and had put it up for her; and she walked under its shade, though +the sun did not shine there. + +'For the present, Loo Bounderby,' said her husband, 'here's Mrs. +Sparsit to look after. Mrs. Sparsit's nerves have been acted upon +by this business, and she'll stay here a day or two. So make her +comfortable.' + +'Thank you very much, sir,' that discreet lady observed, 'but pray +do not let My comfort be a consideration. Anything will do for +Me.' + +It soon appeared that if Mrs. Sparsit had a failing in her +association with that domestic establishment, it was that she was +so excessively regardless of herself and regardful of others, as to +be a nuisance. On being shown her chamber, she was so dreadfully +sensible of its comforts as to suggest the inference that she would +have preferred to pass the night on the mangle in the laundry. +True, the Powlers and the Scadgerses were accustomed to splendour, +'but it is my duty to remember,' Mrs. Sparsit was fond of observing +with a lofty grace: particularly when any of the domestics were +present, 'that what I was, I am no longer. Indeed,' said she, 'if +I could altogether cancel the remembrance that Mr. Sparsit was a +Powler, or that I myself am related to the Scadgers family; or if I +could even revoke the fact, and make myself a person of common +descent and ordinary connexions; I would gladly do so. I should +think it, under existing circumstances, right to do so.' The same +Hermitical state of mind led to her renunciation of made dishes and +wines at dinner, until fairly commanded by Mr. Bounderby to take +them; when she said, 'Indeed you are very good, sir;' and departed +from a resolution of which she had made rather formal and public +announcement, to 'wait for the simple mutton.' She was likewise +deeply apologetic for wanting the salt; and, feeling amiably bound +to bear out Mr. Bounderby to the fullest extent in the testimony he +had borne to her nerves, occasionally sat back in her chair and +silently wept; at which periods a tear of large dimensions, like a +crystal ear-ring, might be observed (or rather, must be, for it +insisted on public notice) sliding down her Roman nose. + +But Mrs. Sparsit's greatest point, first and last, was her +determination to pity Mr. Bounderby. There were occasions when in +looking at him she was involuntarily moved to shake her head, as +who would say, 'Alas, poor Yorick!' After allowing herself to be +betrayed into these evidences of emotion, she would force a lambent +brightness, and would be fitfully cheerful, and would say, 'You +have still good spirits, sir, I am thankful to find;' and would +appear to hail it as a blessed dispensation that Mr. Bounderby bore +up as he did. One idiosyncrasy for which she often apologized, she +found it excessively difficult to conquer. She had a curious +propensity to call Mrs. Bounderby 'Miss Gradgrind,' and yielded to +it some three or four score times in the course of the evening. +Her repetition of this mistake covered Mrs. Sparsit with modest +confusion; but indeed, she said, it seemed so natural to say Miss +Gradgrind: whereas, to persuade herself that the young lady whom +she had had the happiness of knowing from a child could be really +and truly Mrs. Bounderby, she found almost impossible. It was a +further singularity of this remarkable case, that the more she +thought about it, the more impossible it appeared; 'the +differences,' she observed, 'being such.' + +In the drawing-room after dinner, Mr. Bounderby tried the case of +the robbery, examined the witnesses, made notes of the evidence, +found the suspected persons guilty, and sentenced them to the +extreme punishment of the law. That done, Bitzer was dismissed to +town with instructions to recommend Tom to come home by the mail- +train. + +When candles were brought, Mrs. Sparsit murmured, 'Don't be low, +sir. Pray let me see you cheerful, sir, as I used to do.' Mr. +Bounderby, upon whom these consolations had begun to produce the +effect of making him, in a bull-headed blundering way, sentimental, +sighed like some large sea-animal. 'I cannot bear to see you so, +sir,' said Mrs. Sparsit. 'Try a hand at backgammon, sir, as you +used to do when I had the honour of living under your roof.' 'I +haven't played backgammon, ma'am,' said Mr. Bounderby, 'since that +time.' 'No, sir,' said Mrs. Sparsit, soothingly, 'I am aware that +you have not. I remember that Miss Gradgrind takes no interest in +the game. But I shall be happy, sir, if you will condescend.' + +They played near a window, opening on the garden. It was a fine +night: not moonlight, but sultry and fragrant. Louisa and Mr. +Harthouse strolled out into the garden, where their voices could be +heard in the stillness, though not what they said. Mrs. Sparsit, +from her place at the backgammon board, was constantly straining +her eyes to pierce the shadows without. 'What's the matter, ma'am? +' said Mr. Bounderby; 'you don't see a Fire, do you?' 'Oh dear no, +sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit, 'I was thinking of the dew.' 'What +have you got to do with the dew, ma'am?' said Mr. Bounderby. 'It's +not myself, sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit, 'I am fearful of Miss +Gradgrind's taking cold.' 'She never takes cold,' said Mr. +Bounderby. 'Really, sir?' said Mrs. Sparsit. And was affected +with a cough in her throat. + +When the time drew near for retiring, Mr. Bounderby took a glass of +water. 'Oh, sir?' said Mrs. Sparsit. 'Not your sherry warm, with +lemon-peel and nutmeg?' 'Why, I have got out of the habit of +taking it now, ma'am,' said Mr. Bounderby. 'The more's the pity, +sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit; 'you are losing all your good old +habits. Cheer up, sir! If Miss Gradgrind will permit me, I will +offer to make it for you, as I have often done.' + +Miss Gradgrind readily permitting Mrs. Sparsit to do anything she +pleased, that considerate lady made the beverage, and handed it to +Mr. Bounderby. 'It will do you good, sir. It will warm your +heart. It is the sort of thing you want, and ought to take, sir.' +And when Mr. Bounderby said, 'Your health, ma'am!' she answered +with great feeling, 'Thank you, sir. The same to you, and +happiness also.' Finally, she wished him good night, with great +pathos; and Mr. Bounderby went to bed, with a maudlin persuasion +that he had been crossed in something tender, though he could not, +for his life, have mentioned what it was. + +Long after Louisa had undressed and lain down, she watched and +waited for her brother's coming home. That could hardly be, she +knew, until an hour past midnight; but in the country silence, +which did anything but calm the trouble of her thoughts, time +lagged wearily. At last, when the darkness and stillness had +seemed for hours to thicken one another, she heard the bell at the +gate. She felt as though she would have been glad that it rang on +until daylight; but it ceased, and the circles of its last sound +spread out fainter and wider in the air, and all was dead again. + +She waited yet some quarter of an hour, as she judged. Then she +arose, put on a loose robe, and went out of her room in the dark, +and up the staircase to her brother's room. His door being shut, +she softly opened it and spoke to him, approaching his bed with a +noiseless step. + +She kneeled down beside it, passed her arm over his neck, and drew +his face to hers. She knew that he only feigned to be asleep, but +she said nothing to him. + +He started by and by as if he were just then awakened, and asked +who that was, and what was the matter? + +'Tom, have you anything to tell me? If ever you loved me in your +life, and have anything concealed from every one besides, tell it +to me.' + +'I don't know what you mean, Loo. You have been dreaming.' + +'My dear brother:' she laid her head down on his pillow, and her +hair flowed over him as if she would hide him from every one but +herself: 'is there nothing that you have to tell me? Is there +nothing you can tell me if you will? You can tell me nothing that +will change me. O Tom, tell me the truth!' + +'I don't know what you mean, Loo!' + +'As you lie here alone, my dear, in the melancholy night, so you +must lie somewhere one night, when even I, if I am living then, +shall have left you. As I am here beside you, barefoot, unclothed, +undistinguishable in darkness, so must I lie through all the night +of my decay, until I am dust. In the name of that time, Tom, tell +me the truth now!' + +'What is it you want to know?' + +'You may be certain;' in the energy of her love she took him to her +bosom as if he were a child; 'that I will not reproach you. You +may be certain that I will be compassionate and true to you. You +may be certain that I will save you at whatever cost. O Tom, have +you nothing to tell me? Whisper very softly. Say only "yes," and +I shall understand you!' + +She turned her ear to his lips, but he remained doggedly silent. + +'Not a word, Tom?' + +'How can I say Yes, or how can I say No, when I don't know what you +mean? Loo, you are a brave, kind girl, worthy I begin to think of +a better brother than I am. But I have nothing more to say. Go to +bed, go to bed.' + +'You are tired,' she whispered presently, more in her usual way. + +'Yes, I am quite tired out.' + +'You have been so hurried and disturbed to-day. Have any fresh +discoveries been made?' + +'Only those you have heard of, from - him.' + +'Tom, have you said to any one that we made a visit to those +people, and that we saw those three together?' + +'No. Didn't you yourself particularly ask me to keep it quiet when +you asked me to go there with you?' + +'Yes. But I did not know then what was going to happen.' + +'Nor I neither. How could I?' + +He was very quick upon her with this retort. + +'Ought I to say, after what has happened,' said his sister, +standing by the bed - she had gradually withdrawn herself and +risen, 'that I made that visit? Should I say so? Must I say so?' + +'Good Heavens, Loo,' returned her brother, 'you are not in the +habit of asking my advice. say what you like. If you keep it to +yourself, I shall keep it to myself. If you disclose it, there's +an end of it.' + +It was too dark for either to see the other's face; but each seemed +very attentive, and to consider before speaking. + +'Tom, do you believe the man I gave the money to, is really +implicated in this crime?' + +'I don't know. I don't see why he shouldn't be.' + +'He seemed to me an honest man.' + +'Another person may seem to you dishonest, and yet not be so.' +There was a pause, for he had hesitated and stopped. + +'In short,' resumed Tom, as if he had made up his mind, 'if you +come to that, perhaps I was so far from being altogether in his +favour, that I took him outside the door to tell him quietly, that +I thought he might consider himself very well off to get such a +windfall as he had got from my sister, and that I hoped he would +make good use of it. You remember whether I took him out or not. +I say nothing against the man; he may be a very good fellow, for +anything I know; I hope he is.' + +'Was he offended by what you said?' + +'No, he took it pretty well; he was civil enough. Where are you, +Loo?' He sat up in bed and kissed her. 'Good night, my dear, good +night.' + +'You have nothing more to tell me?' + +'No. What should I have? You wouldn't have me tell you a lie!' + +'I wouldn't have you do that to-night, Tom, of all the nights in +your life; many and much happier as I hope they will be.' + +'Thank you, my dear Loo. I am so tired, that I am sure I wonder I +don't say anything to get to sleep. Go to bed, go to bed.' + +Kissing her again, he turned round, drew the coverlet over his +head, and lay as still as if that time had come by which she had +adjured him. She stood for some time at the bedside before she +slowly moved away. She stopped at the door, looked back when she +had opened it, and asked him if he had called her? But he lay +still, and she softly closed the door and returned to her room. + +Then the wretched boy looked cautiously up and found her gone, +crept out of bed, fastened his door, and threw himself upon his +pillow again: tearing his hair, morosely crying, grudgingly loving +her, hatefully but impenitently spurning himself, and no less +hatefully and unprofitably spurning all the good in the world. + + + +CHAPTER IX - HEARING THE LAST OF IT + + + +MRS. SPARSIT, lying by to recover the tone of her nerves in Mr. +Bounderby's retreat, kept such a sharp look-out, night and day, +under her Coriolanian eyebrows, that her eyes, like a couple of +lighthouses on an iron-bound coast, might have warned all prudent +mariners from that bold rock her Roman nose and the dark and craggy +region in its neighbourhood, but for the placidity of her manner. +Although it was hard to believe that her retiring for the night +could be anything but a form, so severely wide awake were those +classical eyes of hers, and so impossible did it seem that her +rigid nose could yield to any relaxing influence, yet her manner of +sitting, smoothing her uncomfortable, not to say, gritty mittens +(they were constructed of a cool fabric like a meat-safe), or of +ambling to unknown places of destination with her foot in her +cotton stirrup, was so perfectly serene, that most observers would +have been constrained to suppose her a dove, embodied by some freak +of nature, in the earthly tabernacle of a bird of the hook-beaked +order. + +She was a most wonderful woman for prowling about the house. How +she got from story to story was a mystery beyond solution. A lady +so decorous in herself, and so highly connected, was not to be +suspected of dropping over the banisters or sliding down them, yet +her extraordinary facility of locomotion suggested the wild idea. +Another noticeable circumstance in Mrs. Sparsit was, that she was +never hurried. She would shoot with consummate velocity from the +roof to the hall, yet would be in full possession of her breath and +dignity on the moment of her arrival there. Neither was she ever +seen by human vision to go at a great pace. + +She took very kindly to Mr. Harthouse, and had some pleasant +conversation with him soon after her arrival. She made him her +stately curtsey in the garden, one morning before breakfast. + +'It appears but yesterday, sir,' said Mrs. Sparsit, 'that I had the +honour of receiving you at the Bank, when you were so good as to +wish to be made acquainted with Mr. Bounderby's address.' + +'An occasion, I am sure, not to be forgotten by myself in the +course of Ages,' said Mr. Harthouse, inclining his head to Mrs. +Sparsit with the most indolent of all possible airs. + +'We live in a singular world, sir,' said Mrs. Sparsit. + +'I have had the honour, by a coincidence of which I am proud, to +have made a remark, similar in effect, though not so +epigrammatically expressed.' + +'A singular world, I would say, sir,' pursued Mrs. Sparsit; after +acknowledging the compliment with a drooping of her dark eyebrows, +not altogether so mild in its expression as her voice was in its +dulcet tones; 'as regards the intimacies we form at one time, with +individuals we were quite ignorant of, at another. I recall, sir, +that on that occasion you went so far as to say you were actually +apprehensive of Miss Gradgrind.' + +'Your memory does me more honour than my insignificance deserves. +I availed myself of your obliging hints to correct my timidity, and +it is unnecessary to add that they were perfectly accurate. Mrs. +Sparsit's talent for - in fact for anything requiring accuracy - +with a combination of strength of mind - and Family - is too +habitually developed to admit of any question.' He was almost +falling asleep over this compliment; it took him so long to get +through, and his mind wandered so much in the course of its +execution. + +'You found Miss Gradgrind - I really cannot call her Mrs. +Bounderby; it's very absurd of me - as youthful as I described +her?' asked Mrs. Sparsit, sweetly. + +'You drew her portrait perfectly,' said Mr. Harthouse. 'Presented +her dead image.' + +'Very engaging, sir,' said Mrs. Sparsit, causing her mittens slowly +to revolve over one another. + +'Highly so.' + +'It used to be considered,' said Mrs. Sparsit, 'that Miss Gradgrind +was wanting in animation, but I confess she appears to me +considerably and strikingly improved in that respect. Ay, and +indeed here is Mr. Bounderby!' cried Mrs. Sparsit, nodding her head +a great many times, as if she had been talking and thinking of no +one else. 'How do you find yourself this morning, sir? Pray let +us see you cheerful, sir.' + +Now, these persistent assuagements of his misery, and lightenings +of his load, had by this time begun to have the effect of making +Mr. Bounderby softer than usual towards Mrs. Sparsit, and harder +than usual to most other people from his wife downward. So, when +Mrs. Sparsit said with forced lightness of heart, 'You want your +breakfast, sir, but I dare say Miss Gradgrind will soon be here to +preside at the table,' Mr. Bounderby replied, 'If I waited to be +taken care of by my wife, ma'am, I believe you know pretty well I +should wait till Doomsday, so I'll trouble you to take charge of +the teapot.' Mrs. Sparsit complied, and assumed her old position +at table. + +This again made the excellent woman vastly sentimental. She was so +humble withal, that when Louisa appeared, she rose, protesting she +never could think of sitting in that place under existing +circumstances, often as she had had the honour of making Mr. +Bounderby's breakfast, before Mrs. Gradgrind - she begged pardon, +she meant to say Miss Bounderby - she hoped to be excused, but she +really could not get it right yet, though she trusted to become +familiar with it by and by - had assumed her present position. It +was only (she observed) because Miss Gradgrind happened to be a +little late, and Mr. Bounderby's time was so very precious, and she +knew it of old to be so essential that he should breakfast to the +moment, that she had taken the liberty of complying with his +request; long as his will had been a law to her. + +'There! Stop where you are, ma'am,' said Mr. Bounderby, 'stop +where you are! Mrs. Bounderby will be very glad to be relieved of +the trouble, I believe.' + +'Don't say that, sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit, almost with severity, +'because that is very unkind to Mrs. Bounderby. And to be unkind +is not to be you, sir.' + +'You may set your mind at rest, ma'am. - You can take it very +quietly, can't you, Loo?' said Mr. Bounderby, in a blustering way +to his wife. + +'Of course. It is of no moment. Why should it be of any +importance to me?' + +'Why should it be of any importance to any one, Mrs. Sparsit, +ma'am?' said Mr. Bounderby, swelling with a sense of slight. 'You +attach too much importance to these things, ma'am. By George, +you'll be corrupted in some of your notions here. You are old- +fashioned, ma'am. You are behind Tom Gradgrind's children's time.' + +'What is the matter with you?' asked Louisa, coldly surprised. +'What has given you offence?' + +'Offence!' repeated Bounderby. 'Do you suppose if there was any +offence given me, I shouldn't name it, and request to have it +corrected? I am a straightforward man, I believe. I don't go +beating about for side-winds.' + +'I suppose no one ever had occasion to think you too diffident, or +too delicate,' Louisa answered him composedly: 'I have never made +that objection to you, either as a child or as a woman. I don't +understand what you would have.' + +'Have?' returned Mr. Bounderby. 'Nothing. Otherwise, don't you, +Loo Bounderby, know thoroughly well that I, Josiah Bounderby of +Coketown, would have it?' + +She looked at him, as he struck the table and made the teacups +ring, with a proud colour in her face that was a new change, Mr. +Harthouse thought. 'You are incomprehensible this morning,' said +Louisa. 'Pray take no further trouble to explain yourself. I am +not curious to know your meaning. What does it matter?' + +Nothing more was said on this theme, and Mr. Harthouse was soon +idly gay on indifferent subjects. But from this day, the Sparsit +action upon Mr. Bounderby threw Louisa and James Harthouse more +together, and strengthened the dangerous alienation from her +husband and confidence against him with another, into which she had +fallen by degrees so fine that she could not retrace them if she +tried. But whether she ever tried or no, lay hidden in her own +closed heart. + +Mrs. Sparsit was so much affected on this particular occasion, +that, assisting Mr. Bounderby to his hat after breakfast, and being +then alone with him in the hall, she imprinted a chaste kiss upon +his hand, murmured 'My benefactor!' and retired, overwhelmed with +grief. Yet it is an indubitable fact, within the cognizance of +this history, that five minutes after he had left the house in the +self-same hat, the same descendant of the Scadgerses and connexion +by matrimony of the Powlers, shook her right-hand mitten at his +portrait, made a contemptuous grimace at that work of art, and said +'Serve you right, you Noodle, and I am glad of it.' + +Mr. Bounderby had not been long gone, when Bitzer appeared. Bitzer +had come down by train, shrieking and rattling over the long line +of arches that bestrode the wild country of past and present coal- +pits, with an express from Stone Lodge. It was a hasty note to +inform Louisa that Mrs. Gradgrind lay very ill. She had never been +well within her daughter's knowledge; but, she had declined within +the last few days, had continued sinking all through the night, and +was now as nearly dead, as her limited capacity of being in any +state that implied the ghost of an intention to get out of it, +allowed. + +Accompanied by the lightest of porters, fit colourless servitor at +Death's door when Mrs. Gradgrind knocked, Louisa rumbled to +Coketown, over the coal-pits past and present, and was whirled into +its smoky jaws. She dismissed the messenger to his own devices, +and rode away to her old home. + +She had seldom been there since her marriage. Her father was +usually sifting and sifting at his parliamentary cinder-heap in +London (without being observed to turn up many precious articles +among the rubbish), and was still hard at it in the national dust- +yard. Her mother had taken it rather as a disturbance than +otherwise, to be visited, as she reclined upon her sofa; young +people, Louisa felt herself all unfit for; Sissy she had never +softened to again, since the night when the stroller's child had +raised her eyes to look at Mr. Bounderby's intended wife. She had +no inducements to go back, and had rarely gone. + +Neither, as she approached her old home now, did any of the best +influences of old home descend upon her. The dreams of childhood - +its airy fables; its graceful, beautiful, humane, impossible +adornments of the world beyond: so good to be believed in once, so +good to be remembered when outgrown, for then the least among them +rises to the stature of a great Charity in the heart, suffering +little children to come into the midst of it, and to keep with +their pure hands a garden in the stony ways of this world, wherein +it were better for all the children of Adam that they should +oftener sun themselves, simple and trustful, and not worldly-wise - +what had she to do with these? Remembrances of how she had +journeyed to the little that she knew, by the enchanted roads of +what she and millions of innocent creatures had hoped and imagined; +of how, first coming upon Reason through the tender light of Fancy, +she had seen it a beneficent god, deferring to gods as great as +itself; not a grim Idol, cruel and cold, with its victims bound +hand to foot, and its big dumb shape set up with a sightless stare, +never to be moved by anything but so many calculated tons of +leverage - what had she to do with these? Her remembrances of home +and childhood were remembrances of the drying up of every spring +and fountain in her young heart as it gushed out. The golden +waters were not there. They were flowing for the fertilization of +the land where grapes are gathered from thorns, and figs from +thistles. + +She went, with a heavy, hardened kind of sorrow upon her, into the +house and into her mother's room. Since the time of her leaving +home, Sissy had lived with the rest of the family on equal terms. +Sissy was at her mother's side; and Jane, her sister, now ten or +twelve years old, was in the room. + +There was great trouble before it could be made known to Mrs. +Gradgrind that her eldest child was there. She reclined, propped +up, from mere habit, on a couch: as nearly in her old usual +attitude, as anything so helpless could be kept in. She had +positively refused to take to her bed; on the ground that if she +did, she would never hear the last of it. + +Her feeble voice sounded so far away in her bundle of shawls, and +the sound of another voice addressing her seemed to take such a +long time in getting down to her ears, that she might have been +lying at the bottom of a well. The poor lady was nearer Truth than +she ever had been: which had much to do with it. + +On being told that Mrs. Bounderby was there, she replied, at cross- +purposes, that she had never called him by that name since he +married Louisa; that pending her choice of an objectionable name, +she had called him J; and that she could not at present depart from +that regulation, not being yet provided with a permanent +substitute. Louisa had sat by her for some minutes, and had spoken +to her often, before she arrived at a clear understanding who it +was. She then seemed to come to it all at once. + +'Well, my dear,' said Mrs. Gradgrind, 'and I hope you are going on +satisfactorily to yourself. It was all your father's doing. He +set his heart upon it. And he ought to know.' + +'I want to hear of you, mother; not of myself.' + +'You want to hear of me, my dear? That's something new, I am sure, +when anybody wants to hear of me. Not at all well, Louisa. Very +faint and giddy.' + +'Are you in pain, dear mother?' + +'I think there's a pain somewhere in the room,' said Mrs. +Gradgrind, 'but I couldn't positively say that I have got it.' + +After this strange speech, she lay silent for some time. Louisa, +holding her hand, could feel no pulse; but kissing it, could see a +slight thin thread of life in fluttering motion. + +'You very seldom see your sister,' said Mrs. Gradgrind. 'She grows +like you. I wish you would look at her. Sissy, bring her here.' + +She was brought, and stood with her hand in her sister's. Louisa +had observed her with her arm round Sissy's neck, and she felt the +difference of this approach. + +'Do you see the likeness, Louisa?' + +'Yes, mother. I should think her like me. But - ' + +'Eh! Yes, I always say so,' Mrs. Gradgrind cried, with unexpected +quickness. 'And that reminds me. I - I want to speak to you, my +dear. Sissy, my good girl, leave us alone a minute.' Louisa had +relinquished the hand: had thought that her sister's was a better +and brighter face than hers had ever been: had seen in it, not +without a rising feeling of resentment, even in that place and at +that time, something of the gentleness of the other face in the +room; the sweet face with the trusting eyes, made paler than +watching and sympathy made it, by the rich dark hair. + +Left alone with her mother, Louisa saw her lying with an awful lull +upon her face, like one who was floating away upon some great +water, all resistance over, content to be carried down the stream. +She put the shadow of a hand to her lips again, and recalled her. + +'You were going to speak to me, mother.' + +'Eh? Yes, to be sure, my dear. You know your father is almost +always away now, and therefore I must write to him about it.' + +'About what, mother? Don't be troubled. About what?' + +'You must remember, my dear, that whenever I have said anything, on +any subject, I have never heard the last of it: and consequently, +that I have long left off saying anything.' + +'I can hear you, mother.' But, it was only by dint of bending down +to her ear, and at the same time attentively watching the lips as +they moved, that she could link such faint and broken sounds into +any chain of connexion. + +'You learnt a great deal, Louisa, and so did your brother. Ologies +of all kinds from morning to night. If there is any Ology left, of +any description, that has not been worn to rags in this house, all +I can say is, I hope I shall never hear its name.' + +'I can hear you, mother, when you have strength to go on.' This, +to keep her from floating away. + +'But there is something - not an Ology at all - that your father +has missed, or forgotten, Louisa. I don't know what it is. I have +often sat with Sissy near me, and thought about it. I shall never +get its name now. But your father may. It makes me restless. I +want to write to him, to find out for God's sake, what it is. Give +me a pen, give me a pen.' + +Even the power of restlessness was gone, except from the poor head, +which could just turn from side to side. + +She fancied, however, that her request had been complied with, and +that the pen she could not have held was in her hand. It matters +little what figures of wonderful no-meaning she began to trace upon +her wrappers. The hand soon stopped in the midst of them; the +light that had always been feeble and dim behind the weak +transparency, went out; and even Mrs. Gradgrind, emerged from the +shadow in which man walketh and disquieteth himself in vain, took +upon her the dread solemnity of the sages and patriarchs. + + + +CHAPTER X - MRS. SPARSIT'S STAIRCASE + + + +MRS. SPARSIT'S nerves being slow to recover their tone, the worthy +woman made a stay of some weeks in duration at Mr. Bounderby's +retreat, where, notwithstanding her anchorite turn of mind based +upon her becoming consciousness of her altered station, she +resigned herself with noble fortitude to lodging, as one may say, +in clover, and feeding on the fat of the land. During the whole +term of this recess from the guardianship of the Bank, Mrs. Sparsit +was a pattern of consistency; continuing to take such pity on Mr. +Bounderby to his face, as is rarely taken on man, and to call his +portrait a Noodle to its face, with the greatest acrimony and +contempt. + +Mr. Bounderby, having got it into his explosive composition that +Mrs. Sparsit was a highly superior woman to perceive that he had +that general cross upon him in his deserts (for he had not yet +settled what it was), and further that Louisa would have objected +to her as a frequent visitor if it had comported with his greatness +that she should object to anything he chose to do, resolved not to +lose sight of Mrs. Sparsit easily. So when her nerves were strung +up to the pitch of again consuming sweetbreads in solitude, he said +to her at the dinner-table, on the day before her departure, 'I +tell you what, ma'am; you shall come down here of a Saturday, while +the fine weather lasts, and stay till Monday.' To which Mrs. +Sparsit returned, in effect, though not of the Mahomedan +persuasion: 'To hear is to obey.' + +Now, Mrs. Sparsit was not a poetical woman; but she took an idea in +the nature of an allegorical fancy, into her head. Much watching +of Louisa, and much consequent observation of her impenetrable +demeanour, which keenly whetted and sharpened Mrs. Sparsit's edge, +must have given her as it were a lift, in the way of inspiration. +She erected in her mind a mighty Staircase, with a dark pit of +shame and ruin at the bottom; and down those stairs, from day to +day and hour to hour, she saw Louisa coming. + +It became the business of Mrs. Sparsit's life, to look up at her +staircase, and to watch Louisa coming down. Sometimes slowly, +sometimes quickly, sometimes several steps at one bout, sometimes +stopping, never turning back. If she had once turned back, it +might have been the death of Mrs. Sparsit in spleen and grief. + +She had been descending steadily, to the day, and on the day, when +Mr. Bounderby issued the weekly invitation recorded above. Mrs. +Sparsit was in good spirits, and inclined to be conversational. + +'And pray, sir,' said she, 'if I may venture to ask a question +appertaining to any subject on which you show reserve - which is +indeed hardy in me, for I well know you have a reason for +everything you do - have you received intelligence respecting the +robbery?' + +'Why, ma'am, no; not yet. Under the circumstances, I didn't expect +it yet. Rome wasn't built in a day, ma'am.' + +'Very true, sir,' said Mrs. Sparsit, shaking her head. + +'Nor yet in a week, ma'am.' + +'No, indeed, sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit, with a gentle melancholy +upon her. + +'In a similar manner, ma'am,' said Bounderby, 'I can wait, you +know. If Romulus and Remus could wait, Josiah Bounderby can wait. +They were better off in their youth than I was, however. They had +a she-wolf for a nurse; I had only a she-wolf for a grandmother. +She didn't give any milk, ma'am; she gave bruises. She was a +regular Alderney at that.' + +'Ah!' Mrs. Sparsit sighed and shuddered. + +'No, ma'am,' continued Bounderby, 'I have not heard anything more +about it. It's in hand, though; and young Tom, who rather sticks +to business at present - something new for him; he hadn't the +schooling I had - is helping. My injunction is, Keep it quiet, and +let it seem to blow over. Do what you like under the rose, but +don't give a sign of what you're about; or half a hundred of 'em +will combine together and get this fellow who has bolted, out of +reach for good. Keep it quiet, and the thieves will grow in +confidence by little and little, and we shall have 'em.' + +'Very sagacious indeed, sir,' said Mrs. Sparsit. 'Very +interesting. The old woman you mentioned, sir - ' + +'The old woman I mentioned, ma'am,' said Bounderby, cutting the +matter short, as it was nothing to boast about, 'is not laid hold +of; but, she may take her oath she will be, if that is any +satisfaction to her villainous old mind. In the mean time, ma'am, +I am of opinion, if you ask me my opinion, that the less she is +talked about, the better.' + +The same evening, Mrs. Sparsit, in her chamber window, resting from +her packing operations, looked towards her great staircase and saw +Louisa still descending. + +She sat by Mr. Harthouse, in an alcove in the garden, talking very +low; he stood leaning over her, as they whispered together, and his +face almost touched her hair. 'If not quite!' said Mrs. Sparsit, +straining her hawk's eyes to the utmost. Mrs. Sparsit was too +distant to hear a word of their discourse, or even to know that +they were speaking softly, otherwise than from the expression of +their figures; but what they said was this: + +'You recollect the man, Mr. Harthouse?' + +'Oh, perfectly!' + +'His face, and his manner, and what he said?' + +'Perfectly. And an infinitely dreary person he appeared to me to +be. Lengthy and prosy in the extreme. It was knowing to hold +forth, in the humble-virtue school of eloquence; but, I assure you +I thought at the time, "My good fellow, you are over-doing this!"' + +'It has been very difficult to me to think ill of that man.' + +'My dear Louisa - as Tom says.' Which he never did say. 'You know +no good of the fellow?' + +'No, certainly.' + +'Nor of any other such person?' + +'How can I,' she returned, with more of her first manner on her +than he had lately seen, 'when I know nothing of them, men or +women?' + +'My dear Louisa, then consent to receive the submissive +representation of your devoted friend, who knows something of +several varieties of his excellent fellow-creatures - for excellent +they are, I am quite ready to believe, in spite of such little +foibles as always helping themselves to what they can get hold of. +This fellow talks. Well; every fellow talks. He professes +morality. Well; all sorts of humbugs profess morality. From the +House of Commons to the House of Correction, there is a general +profession of morality, except among our people; it really is that +exception which makes our people quite reviving. You saw and heard +the case. Here was one of the fluffy classes pulled up extremely +short by my esteemed friend Mr. Bounderby - who, as we know, is not +possessed of that delicacy which would soften so tight a hand. The +member of the fluffy classes was injured, exasperated, left the +house grumbling, met somebody who proposed to him to go in for some +share in this Bank business, went in, put something in his pocket +which had nothing in it before, and relieved his mind extremely. +Really he would have been an uncommon, instead of a common, fellow, +if he had not availed himself of such an opportunity. Or he may +have originated it altogether, if he had the cleverness.' + +'I almost feel as though it must be bad in me,' returned Louisa, +after sitting thoughtful awhile, 'to be so ready to agree with you, +and to be so lightened in my heart by what you say.' + +'I only say what is reasonable; nothing worse. I have talked it +over with my friend Tom more than once - of course I remain on +terms of perfect confidence with Tom - and he is quite of my +opinion, and I am quite of his. Will you walk?' + +They strolled away, among the lanes beginning to be indistinct in +the twilight - she leaning on his arm - and she little thought how +she was going down, down, down, Mrs. Sparsit's staircase. + +Night and day, Mrs. Sparsit kept it standing. When Louisa had +arrived at the bottom and disappeared in the gulf, it might fall in +upon her if it would; but, until then, there it was to be, a +Building, before Mrs. Sparsit's eyes. And there Louisa always was, +upon it. + +And always gliding down, down, down! + +Mrs. Sparsit saw James Harthouse come and go; she heard of him here +and there; she saw the changes of the face he had studied; she, +too, remarked to a nicety how and when it clouded, how and when it +cleared; she kept her black eyes wide open, with no touch of pity, +with no touch of compunction, all absorbed in interest. In the +interest of seeing her, ever drawing, with no hand to stay her, +nearer and nearer to the bottom of this new Giant's Staircase. + +With all her deference for Mr. Bounderby as contradistinguished +from his portrait, Mrs. Sparsit had not the smallest intention of +interrupting the descent. Eager to see it accomplished, and yet +patient, she waited for the last fall, as for the ripeness and +fulness of the harvest of her hopes. Hushed in expectancy, she +kept her wary gaze upon the stairs; and seldom so much as darkly +shook her right mitten (with her fist in it), at the figure coming +down. + + + +CHAPTER XI - LOWER AND LOWER + + + +THE figure descended the great stairs, steadily, steadily; always +verging, like a weight in deep water, to the black gulf at the +bottom. + +Mr. Gradgrind, apprised of his wife's decease, made an expedition +from London, and buried her in a business-like manner. He then +returned with promptitude to the national cinder-heap, and resumed +his sifting for the odds and ends he wanted, and his throwing of +the dust about into the eyes of other people who wanted other odds +and ends - in fact resumed his parliamentary duties. + +In the meantime, Mrs. Sparsit kept unwinking watch and ward. +Separated from her staircase, all the week, by the length of iron +road dividing Coketown from the country house, she yet maintained +her cat-like observation of Louisa, through her husband, through +her brother, through James Harthouse, through the outsides of +letters and packets, through everything animate and inanimate that +at any time went near the stairs. 'Your foot on the last step, my +lady,' said Mrs. Sparsit, apostrophizing the descending figure, +with the aid of her threatening mitten, 'and all your art shall +never blind me.' + +Art or nature though, the original stock of Louisa's character or +the graft of circumstances upon it, - her curious reserve did +baffle, while it stimulated, one as sagacious as Mrs. Sparsit. +There were times when Mr. James Harthouse was not sure of her. +There were times when he could not read the face he had studied so +long; and when this lonely girl was a greater mystery to him, than +any woman of the world with a ring of satellites to help her. + +So the time went on; until it happened that Mr. Bounderby was +called away from home by business which required his presence +elsewhere, for three or four days. It was on a Friday that he +intimated this to Mrs. Sparsit at the Bank, adding: 'But you'll go +down to-morrow, ma'am, all the same. You'll go down just as if I +was there. It will make no difference to you.' + +'Pray, sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit, reproachfully, 'let me beg you +not to say that. Your absence will make a vast difference to me, +sir, as I think you very well know.' + +'Well, ma'am, then you must get on in my absence as well as you +can,' said Mr. Bounderby, not displeased. + +'Mr. Bounderby,' retorted Mrs. Sparsit, 'your will is to me a law, +sir; otherwise, it might be my inclination to dispute your kind +commands, not feeling sure that it will be quite so agreeable to +Miss Gradgrind to receive me, as it ever is to your own munificent +hospitality. But you shall say no more, sir. I will go, upon your +invitation.' + +'Why, when I invite you to my house, ma'am,' said Bounderby, +opening his eyes, 'I should hope you want no other invitation.' + +'No, indeed, sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit, 'I should hope not. Say +no more, sir. I would, sir, I could see you gay again.' + +'What do you mean, ma'am?' blustered Bounderby. + +'Sir,' rejoined Mrs. Sparsit, 'there was wont to be an elasticity +in you which I sadly miss. Be buoyant, sir!' + +Mr. Bounderby, under the influence of this difficult adjuration, +backed up by her compassionate eye, could only scratch his head in +a feeble and ridiculous manner, and afterwards assert himself at a +distance, by being heard to bully the small fry of business all the +morning. + +'Bitzer,' said Mrs. Sparsit that afternoon, when her patron was +gone on his journey, and the Bank was closing, 'present my +compliments to young Mr. Thomas, and ask him if he would step up +and partake of a lamb chop and walnut ketchup, with a glass of +India ale?' Young Mr. Thomas being usually ready for anything in +that way, returned a gracious answer, and followed on its heels. +'Mr. Thomas,' said Mrs. Sparsit, 'these plain viands being on +table, I thought you might be tempted.' + +'Thank'ee, Mrs. Sparsit,' said the whelp. And gloomily fell to. + +'How is Mr. Harthouse, Mr. Tom?' asked Mrs. Sparsit. + +'Oh, he's all right,' said Tom. + +'Where may he be at present?' Mrs. Sparsit asked in a light +conversational manner, after mentally devoting the whelp to the +Furies for being so uncommunicative. + +'He is shooting in Yorkshire,' said Tom. 'Sent Loo a basket half +as big as a church, yesterday.' + +'The kind of gentleman, now,' said Mrs. Sparsit, sweetly, 'whom one +might wager to be a good shot!' + +'Crack,' said Tom. + +He had long been a down-looking young fellow, but this +characteristic had so increased of late, that he never raised his +eyes to any face for three seconds together. Mrs. Sparsit +consequently had ample means of watching his looks, if she were so +inclined. + +'Mr. Harthouse is a great favourite of mine,' said Mrs. Sparsit, +'as indeed he is of most people. May we expect to see him again +shortly, Mr. Tom?' + +'Why, I expect to see him to-morrow,' returned the whelp. + +'Good news!' cried Mrs. Sparsit, blandly. + +'I have got an appointment with him to meet him in the evening at +the station here,' said Tom, 'and I am going to dine with him +afterwards, I believe. He is not coming down to the country house +for a week or so, being due somewhere else. At least, he says so; +but I shouldn't wonder if he was to stop here over Sunday, and +stray that way.' + +'Which reminds me!' said Mrs. Sparsit. 'Would you remember a +message to your sister, Mr. Tom, if I was to charge you with one?' + +'Well? I'll try,' returned the reluctant whelp, 'if it isn't a +long un.' + +'It is merely my respectful compliments,' said Mrs. Sparsit, 'and I +fear I may not trouble her with my society this week; being still a +little nervous, and better perhaps by my poor self.' + +'Oh! If that's all,' observed Tom, 'it wouldn't much matter, even +if I was to forget it, for Loo's not likely to think of you unless +she sees you.' + +Having paid for his entertainment with this agreeable compliment, +he relapsed into a hangdog silence until there was no more India +ale left, when he said, 'Well, Mrs. Sparsit, I must be off!' and +went off. + +Next day, Saturday, Mrs. Sparsit sat at her window all day long +looking at the customers coming in and out, watching the postmen, +keeping an eye on the general traffic of the street, revolving many +things in her mind, but, above all, keeping her attention on her +staircase. The evening come, she put on her bonnet and shawl, and +went quietly out: having her reasons for hovering in a furtive way +about the station by which a passenger would arrive from Yorkshire, +and for preferring to peep into it round pillars and corners, and +out of ladies' waiting-room windows, to appearing in its precincts +openly. + +Tom was in attendance, and loitered about until the expected train +came in. It brought no Mr. Harthouse. Tom waited until the crowd +had dispersed, and the bustle was over; and then referred to a +posted list of trains, and took counsel with porters. That done, +he strolled away idly, stopping in the street and looking up it and +down it, and lifting his hat off and putting it on again, and +yawning and stretching himself, and exhibiting all the symptoms of +mortal weariness to be expected in one who had still to wait until +the next train should come in, an hour and forty minutes hence. + +'This is a device to keep him out of the way,' said Mrs. Sparsit, +starting from the dull office window whence she had watched him +last. 'Harthouse is with his sister now!' + +It was the conception of an inspired moment, and she shot off with +her utmost swiftness to work it out. The station for the country +house was at the opposite end of the town, the time was short, the +road not easy; but she was so quick in pouncing on a disengaged +coach, so quick in darting out of it, producing her money, seizing +her ticket, and diving into the train, that she was borne along the +arches spanning the land of coal-pits past and present, as if she +had been caught up in a cloud and whirled away. + +All the journey, immovable in the air though never left behind; +plain to the dark eyes of her mind, as the electric wires which +ruled a colossal strip of music-paper out of the evening sky, were +plain to the dark eyes of her body; Mrs. Sparsit saw her staircase, +with the figure coming down. Very near the bottom now. Upon the +brink of the abyss. + +An overcast September evening, just at nightfall, saw beneath its +drooping eyelids Mrs. Sparsit glide out of her carriage, pass down +the wooden steps of the little station into a stony road, cross it +into a green lane, and become hidden in a summer-growth of leaves +and branches. One or two late birds sleepily chirping in their +nests, and a bat heavily crossing and recrossing her, and the reek +of her own tread in the thick dust that felt like velvet, were all +Mrs. Sparsit heard or saw until she very softly closed a gate. + +She went up to the house, keeping within the shrubbery, and went +round it, peeping between the leaves at the lower windows. Most of +them were open, as they usually were in such warm weather, but +there were no lights yet, and all was silent. She tried the garden +with no better effect. She thought of the wood, and stole towards +it, heedless of long grass and briers: of worms, snails, and +slugs, and all the creeping things that be. With her dark eyes and +her hook nose warily in advance of her, Mrs. Sparsit softly crushed +her way through the thick undergrowth, so intent upon her object +that she probably would have done no less, if the wood had been a +wood of adders. + +Hark! + +The smaller birds might have tumbled out of their nests, fascinated +by the glittering of Mrs. Sparsit's eyes in the gloom, as she +stopped and listened. + +Low voices close at hand. His voice and hers. The appointment was +a device to keep the brother away! There they were yonder, by the +felled tree. + +Bending low among the dewy grass, Mrs. Sparsit advanced closer to +them. She drew herself up, and stood behind a tree, like Robinson +Crusoe in his ambuscade against the savages; so near to them that +at a spring, and that no great one, she could have touched them +both. He was there secretly, and had not shown himself at the +house. He had come on horseback, and must have passed through the +neighbouring fields; for his horse was tied to the meadow side of +the fence, within a few paces. + +'My dearest love,' said he, 'what could I do? Knowing you were +alone, was it possible that I could stay away?' + +'You may hang your head, to make yourself the more attractive; I +don't know what they see in you when you hold it up,' thought Mrs. +Sparsit; 'but you little think, my dearest love, whose eyes are on +you!' + +That she hung her head, was certain. She urged him to go away, she +commanded him to go away; but she neither turned her face to him, +nor raised it. Yet it was remarkable that she sat as still as ever +the amiable woman in ambuscade had seen her sit, at any period in +her life. Her hands rested in one another, like the hands of a +statue; and even her manner of speaking was not hurried. + +'My dear child,' said Harthouse; Mrs. Sparsit saw with delight that +his arm embraced her; 'will you not bear with my society for a +little while?' + +'Not here.' + +'Where, Louisa? + +'Not here.' + +'But we have so little time to make so much of, and I have come so +far, and am altogether so devoted, and distracted. There never was +a slave at once so devoted and ill-used by his mistress. To look +for your sunny welcome that has warmed me into life, and to be +received in your frozen manner, is heart-rending.' + +'Am I to say again, that I must be left to myself here?' + +'But we must meet, my dear Louisa. Where shall we meet?' + +They both started. The listener started, guiltily, too; for she +thought there was another listener among the trees. It was only +rain, beginning to fall fast, in heavy drops. + +'Shall I ride up to the house a few minutes hence, innocently +supposing that its master is at home and will be charmed to receive +me?' + +'No!' + +'Your cruel commands are implicitly to be obeyed; though I am the +most unfortunate fellow in the world, I believe, to have been +insensible to all other women, and to have fallen prostrate at last +under the foot of the most beautiful, and the most engaging, and +the most imperious. My dearest Louisa, I cannot go myself, or let +you go, in this hard abuse of your power.' + +Mrs. Sparsit saw him detain her with his encircling arm, and heard +him then and there, within her (Mrs. Sparsit's) greedy hearing, +tell her how he loved her, and how she was the stake for which he +ardently desired to play away all that he had in life. The objects +he had lately pursued, turned worthless beside her; such success as +was almost in his grasp, he flung away from him like the dirt it +was, compared with her. Its pursuit, nevertheless, if it kept him +near her, or its renunciation if it took him from her, or flight if +she shared it, or secrecy if she commanded it, or any fate, or +every fate, all was alike to him, so that she was true to him, - +the man who had seen how cast away she was, whom she had inspired +at their first meeting with an admiration, an interest, of which he +had thought himself incapable, whom she had received into her +confidence, who was devoted to her and adored her. All this, and +more, in his hurry, and in hers, in the whirl of her own gratified +malice, in the dread of being discovered, in the rapidly increasing +noise of heavy rain among the leaves, and a thunderstorm rolling up +- Mrs. Sparsit received into her mind, set off with such an +unavoidable halo of confusion and indistinctness, that when at +length he climbed the fence and led his horse away, she was not +sure where they were to meet, or when, except that they had said it +was to be that night. + +But one of them yet remained in the darkness before her; and while +she tracked that one she must be right. 'Oh, my dearest love,' +thought Mrs. Sparsit, 'you little think how well attended you are!' + +Mrs. Sparsit saw her out of the wood, and saw her enter the house. +What to do next? It rained now, in a sheet of water. Mrs. +Sparsit's white stockings were of many colours, green +predominating; prickly things were in her shoes; caterpillars slung +themselves, in hammocks of their own making, from various parts of +her dress; rills ran from her bonnet, and her Roman nose. In such +condition, Mrs. Sparsit stood hidden in the density of the +shrubbery, considering what next? + +Lo, Louisa coming out of the house! Hastily cloaked and muffled, +and stealing away. She elopes! She falls from the lowermost +stair, and is swallowed up in the gulf. + +Indifferent to the rain, and moving with a quick determined step, +she struck into a side-path parallel with the ride. Mrs. Sparsit +followed in the shadow of the trees, at but a short distance; for +it was not easy to keep a figure in view going quickly through the +umbrageous darkness. + +When she stopped to close the side-gate without noise, Mrs. Sparsit +stopped. When she went on, Mrs. Sparsit went on. She went by the +way Mrs. Sparsit had come, emerged from the green lane, crossed the +stony road, and ascended the wooden steps to the railroad. A train +for Coketown would come through presently, Mrs. Sparsit knew; so +she understood Coketown to be her first place of destination. + +In Mrs. Sparsit's limp and streaming state, no extensive +precautions were necessary to change her usual appearance; but, she +stopped under the lee of the station wall, tumbled her shawl into a +new shape, and put it on over her bonnet. So disguised she had no +fear of being recognized when she followed up the railroad steps, +and paid her money in the small office. Louisa sat waiting in a +corner. Mrs. Sparsit sat waiting in another corner. Both listened +to the thunder, which was loud, and to the rain, as it washed off +the roof, and pattered on the parapets of the arches. Two or three +lamps were rained out and blown out; so, both saw the lightning to +advantage as it quivered and zigzagged on the iron tracks. + +The seizure of the station with a fit of trembling, gradually +deepening to a complaint of the heart, announced the train. Fire +and steam, and smoke, and red light; a hiss, a crash, a bell, and a +shriek; Louisa put into one carriage, Mrs. Sparsit put into +another: the little station a desert speck in the thunderstorm. + +Though her teeth chattered in her head from wet and cold, Mrs. +Sparsit exulted hugely. The figure had plunged down the precipice, +and she felt herself, as it were, attending on the body. Could +she, who had been so active in the getting up of the funeral +triumph, do less than exult? 'She will be at Coketown long before +him,' thought Mrs. Sparsit, 'though his horse is never so good. +Where will she wait for him? And where will they go together? +Patience. We shall see.' + +The tremendous rain occasioned infinite confusion, when the train +stopped at its destination. Gutters and pipes had burst, drains +had overflowed, and streets were under water. In the first instant +of alighting, Mrs. Sparsit turned her distracted eyes towards the +waiting coaches, which were in great request. 'She will get into +one,' she considered, 'and will be away before I can follow in +another. At all risks of being run over, I must see the number, +and hear the order given to the coachman.' + +But, Mrs. Sparsit was wrong in her calculation. Louisa got into no +coach, and was already gone. The black eyes kept upon the +railroad-carriage in which she had travelled, settled upon it a +moment too late. The door not being opened after several minutes, +Mrs. Sparsit passed it and repassed it, saw nothing, looked in, and +found it empty. Wet through and through: with her feet squelching +and squashing in her shoes whenever she moved; with a rash of rain +upon her classical visage; with a bonnet like an over-ripe fig; +with all her clothes spoiled; with damp impressions of every +button, string, and hook-and-eye she wore, printed off upon her +highly connected back; with a stagnant verdure on her general +exterior, such as accumulates on an old park fence in a mouldy +lane; Mrs. Sparsit had no resource but to burst into tears of +bitterness and say, 'I have lost her!' + + + +CHAPTER XII - DOWN + + + +THE national dustmen, after entertaining one another with a great +many noisy little fights among themselves, had dispersed for the +present, and Mr. Gradgrind was at home for the vacation. + +He sat writing in the room with the deadly statistical clock, +proving something no doubt - probably, in the main, that the Good +Samaritan was a Bad Economist. The noise of the rain did not +disturb him much; but it attracted his attention sufficiently to +make him raise his head sometimes, as if he were rather +remonstrating with the elements. When it thundered very loudly, he +glanced towards Coketown, having it in his mind that some of the +tall chimneys might be struck by lightning. + +The thunder was rolling into distance, and the rain was pouring +down like a deluge, when the door of his room opened. He looked +round the lamp upon his table, and saw, with amazement, his eldest +daughter. + +'Louisa!' + +'Father, I want to speak to you.' + +'What is the matter? How strange you look! And good Heaven,' said +Mr. Gradgrind, wondering more and more, 'have you come here exposed +to this storm?' + +She put her hands to her dress, as if she hardly knew. 'Yes.' +Then she uncovered her head, and letting her cloak and hood fall +where they might, stood looking at him: so colourless, so +dishevelled, so defiant and despairing, that he was afraid of her. + +'What is it? I conjure you, Louisa, tell me what is the matter.' + +She dropped into a chair before him, and put her cold hand on his +arm. + +'Father, you have trained me from my cradle?' + +'Yes, Louisa.' + +'I curse the hour in which I was born to such a destiny.' + +He looked at her in doubt and dread, vacantly repeating: 'Curse +the hour? Curse the hour?' + +'How could you give me life, and take from me all the inappreciable +things that raise it from the state of conscious death? Where are +the graces of my soul? Where are the sentiments of my heart? What +have you done, O father, what have you done, with the garden that +should have bloomed once, in this great wilderness here!' + +She struck herself with both her hands upon her bosom. + +'If it had ever been here, its ashes alone would save me from the +void in which my whole life sinks. I did not mean to say this; +but, father, you remember the last time we conversed in this room?' + +He had been so wholly unprepared for what he heard now, that it was +with difficulty he answered, 'Yes, Louisa.' + +'What has risen to my lips now, would have risen to my lips then, +if you had given me a moment's help. I don't reproach you, father. +What you have never nurtured in me, you have never nurtured in +yourself; but O! if you had only done so long ago, or if you had +only neglected me, what a much better and much happier creature I +should have been this day!' + +On hearing this, after all his care, he bowed his head upon his +hand and groaned aloud. + +'Father, if you had known, when we were last together here, what +even I feared while I strove against it - as it has been my task +from infancy to strive against every natural prompting that has +arisen in my heart; if you had known that there lingered in my +breast, sensibilities, affections, weaknesses capable of being +cherished into strength, defying all the calculations ever made by +man, and no more known to his arithmetic than his Creator is, - +would you have given me to the husband whom I am now sure that I +hate?' + +He said, 'No. No, my poor child.' + +'Would you have doomed me, at any time, to the frost and blight +that have hardened and spoiled me? Would you have robbed me - for +no one's enrichment - only for the greater desolation of this world +- of the immaterial part of my life, the spring and summer of my +belief, my refuge from what is sordid and bad in the real things +around me, my school in which I should have learned to be more +humble and more trusting with them, and to hope in my little sphere +to make them better?' + +'O no, no. No, Louisa.' + +'Yet, father, if I had been stone blind; if I had groped my way by +my sense of touch, and had been free, while I knew the shapes and +surfaces of things, to exercise my fancy somewhat, in regard to +them; I should have been a million times wiser, happier, more +loving, more contented, more innocent and human in all good +respects, than I am with the eyes I have. Now, hear what I have +come to say.' + +He moved, to support her with his arm. She rising as he did so, +they stood close together: she, with a hand upon his shoulder, +looking fixedly in his face. + +'With a hunger and thirst upon me, father, which have never been +for a moment appeased; with an ardent impulse towards some region +where rules, and figures, and definitions were not quite absolute; +I have grown up, battling every inch of my way.' + +'I never knew you were unhappy, my child.' + +'Father, I always knew it. In this strife I have almost repulsed +and crushed my better angel into a demon. What I have learned has +left me doubting, misbelieving, despising, regretting, what I have +not learned; and my dismal resource has been to think that life +would soon go by, and that nothing in it could be worth the pain +and trouble of a contest.' + +'And you so young, Louisa!' he said with pity. + +'And I so young. In this condition, father - for I show you now, +without fear or favour, the ordinary deadened state of my mind as I +know it - you proposed my husband to me. I took him. I never made +a pretence to him or you that I loved him. I knew, and, father, +you knew, and he knew, that I never did. I was not wholly +indifferent, for I had a hope of being pleasant and useful to Tom. +I made that wild escape into something visionary, and have slowly +found out how wild it was. But Tom had been the subject of all the +little tenderness of my life; perhaps he became so because I knew +so well how to pity him. It matters little now, except as it may +dispose you to think more leniently of his errors.' + +As her father held her in his arms, she put her other hand upon his +other shoulder, and still looking fixedly in his face, went on. + +'When I was irrevocably married, there rose up into rebellion +against the tie, the old strife, made fiercer by all those causes +of disparity which arise out of our two individual natures, and +which no general laws shall ever rule or state for me, father, +until they shall be able to direct the anatomist where to strike +his knife into the secrets of my soul.' + +'Louisa!' he said, and said imploringly; for he well remembered +what had passed between them in their former interview. + +'I do not reproach you, father, I make no complaint. I am here +with another object.' + +'What can I do, child? Ask me what you will.' + +'I am coming to it. Father, chance then threw into my way a new +acquaintance; a man such as I had had no experience of; used to the +world; light, polished, easy; making no pretences; avowing the low +estimate of everything, that I was half afraid to form in secret; +conveying to me almost immediately, though I don't know how or by +what degrees, that he understood me, and read my thoughts. I could +not find that he was worse than I. There seemed to be a near +affinity between us. I only wondered it should be worth his while, +who cared for nothing else, to care so much for me.' + +'For you, Louisa!' + +Her father might instinctively have loosened his hold, but that he +felt her strength departing from her, and saw a wild dilating fire +in the eyes steadfastly regarding him. + +'I say nothing of his plea for claiming my confidence. It matters +very little how he gained it. Father, he did gain it. What you +know of the story of my marriage, he soon knew, just as well.' + +Her father's face was ashy white, and he held her in both his arms. + +'I have done no worse, I have not disgraced you. But if you ask me +whether I have loved him, or do love him, I tell you plainly, +father, that it may be so. I don't know.' + +She took her hands suddenly from his shoulders, and pressed them +both upon her side; while in her face, not like itself - and in her +figure, drawn up, resolute to finish by a last effort what she had +to say - the feelings long suppressed broke loose. + +'This night, my husband being away, he has been with me, declaring +himself my lover. This minute he expects me, for I could release +myself of his presence by no other means. I do not know that I am +sorry, I do not know that I am ashamed, I do not know that I am +degraded in my own esteem. All that I know is, your philosophy and +your teaching will not save me. Now, father, you have brought me +to this. Save me by some other means!' + +He tightened his hold in time to prevent her sinking on the floor, +but she cried out in a terrible voice, 'I shall die if you hold me! +Let me fall upon the ground!' And he laid her down there, and saw +the pride of his heart and the triumph of his system, lying, an +insensible heap, at his feet. + + +END OF THE SECOND BOOK + + + + +BOOK THE THIRD - GARNERING + + + + +CHAPTER I - ANOTHER THING NEEDFUL + + + +LOUISA awoke from a torpor, and her eyes languidly opened on her +old bed at home, and her old room. It seemed, at first, as if all +that had happened since the days when these objects were familiar +to her were the shadows of a dream, but gradually, as the objects +became more real to her sight, the events became more real to her +mind. + +She could scarcely move her head for pain and heaviness, her eyes +were strained and sore, and she was very weak. A curious passive +inattention had such possession of her, that the presence of her +little sister in the room did not attract her notice for some time. +Even when their eyes had met, and her sister had approached the +bed, Louisa lay for minutes looking at her in silence, and +suffering her timidly to hold her passive hand, before she asked: + +'When was I brought to this room?' + +'Last night, Louisa.' + +'Who brought me here?' + +'Sissy, I believe.' + +'Why do you believe so?' + +'Because I found her here this morning. She didn't come to my +bedside to wake me, as she always does; and I went to look for her. +She was not in her own room either; and I went looking for her all +over the house, until I found her here taking care of you and +cooling your head. Will you see father? Sissy said I was to tell +him when you woke.' + +'What a beaming face you have, Jane!' said Louisa, as her young +sister - timidly still - bent down to kiss her. + +'Have I? I am very glad you think so. I am sure it must be +Sissy's doing.' + +The arm Louisa had begun to twine around her neck, unbent itself. +'You can tell father if you will.' Then, staying her for a moment, +she said, 'It was you who made my room so cheerful, and gave it +this look of welcome?' + +'Oh no, Louisa, it was done before I came. It was - ' + +Louisa turned upon her pillow, and heard no more. When her sister +had withdrawn, she turned her head back again, and lay with her +face towards the door, until it opened and her father entered. + +He had a jaded anxious look upon him, and his hand, usually steady, +trembled in hers. He sat down at the side of the bed, tenderly +asking how she was, and dwelling on the necessity of her keeping +very quiet after her agitation and exposure to the weather last +night. He spoke in a subdued and troubled voice, very different +from his usual dictatorial manner; and was often at a loss for +words. + +'My dear Louisa. My poor daughter.' He was so much at a loss at +that place, that he stopped altogether. He tried again. + +'My unfortunate child.' The place was so difficult to get over, +that he tried again. + +'It would be hopeless for me, Louisa, to endeavour to tell you how +overwhelmed I have been, and still am, by what broke upon me last +night. The ground on which I stand has ceased to be solid under my +feet. The only support on which I leaned, and the strength of +which it seemed, and still does seem, impossible to question, has +given way in an instant. I am stunned by these discoveries. I +have no selfish meaning in what I say; but I find the shock of what +broke upon me last night, to be very heavy indeed.' + +She could give him no comfort herein. She had suffered the wreck +of her whole life upon the rock. + +'I will not say, Louisa, that if you had by any happy chance +undeceived me some time ago, it would have been better for us both; +better for your peace, and better for mine. For I am sensible that +it may not have been a part of my system to invite any confidence +of that kind. I had proved my - my system to myself, and I have +rigidly administered it; and I must bear the responsibility of its +failures. I only entreat you to believe, my favourite child, that +I have meant to do right.' + +He said it earnestly, and to do him justice he had. In gauging +fathomless deeps with his little mean excise-rod, and in staggering +over the universe with his rusty stiff-legged compasses, he had +meant to do great things. Within the limits of his short tether he +had tumbled about, annihilating the flowers of existence with +greater singleness of purpose than many of the blatant personages +whose company he kept. + +'I am well assured of what you say, father. I know I have been +your favourite child. I know you have intended to make me happy. +I have never blamed you, and I never shall.' + +He took her outstretched hand, and retained it in his. + +'My dear, I have remained all night at my table, pondering again +and again on what has so painfully passed between us. When I +consider your character; when I consider that what has been known +to me for hours, has been concealed by you for years; when I +consider under what immediate pressure it has been forced from you +at last; I come to the conclusion that I cannot but mistrust +myself.' + +He might have added more than all, when he saw the face now looking +at him. He did add it in effect, perhaps, as he softly moved her +scattered hair from her forehead with his hand. Such little +actions, slight in another man, were very noticeable in him; and +his daughter received them as if they had been words of contrition. + +'But,' said Mr. Gradgrind, slowly, and with hesitation, as well as +with a wretched sense of happiness, 'if I see reason to mistrust +myself for the past, Louisa, I should also mistrust myself for the +present and the future. To speak unreservedly to you, I do. I am +far from feeling convinced now, however differently I might have +felt only this time yesterday, that I am fit for the trust you +repose in me; that I know how to respond to the appeal you have +come home to make to me; that I have the right instinct - supposing +it for the moment to be some quality of that nature - how to help +you, and to set you right, my child.' + +She had turned upon her pillow, and lay with her face upon her arm, +so that he could not see it. All her wildness and passion had +subsided; but, though softened, she was not in tears. Her father +was changed in nothing so much as in the respect that he would have +been glad to see her in tears. + +'Some persons hold,' he pursued, still hesitating, 'that there is a +wisdom of the Head, and that there is a wisdom of the Heart. I +have not supposed so; but, as I have said, I mistrust myself now. +I have supposed the head to be all-sufficient. It may not be all- +sufficient; how can I venture this morning to say it is! If that +other kind of wisdom should be what I have neglected, and should be +the instinct that is wanted, Louisa - ' + +He suggested it very doubtfully, as if he were half unwilling to +admit it even now. She made him no answer, lying before him on her +bed, still half-dressed, much as he had seen her lying on the floor +of his room last night. + +'Louisa,' and his hand rested on her hair again, 'I have been +absent from here, my dear, a good deal of late; and though your +sister's training has been pursued according to - the system,' he +appeared to come to that word with great reluctance always, 'it has +necessarily been modified by daily associations begun, in her case, +at an early age. I ask you - ignorantly and humbly, my daughter - +for the better, do you think?' + +'Father,' she replied, without stirring, 'if any harmony has been +awakened in her young breast that was mute in mine until it turned +to discord, let her thank Heaven for it, and go upon her happier +way, taking it as her greatest blessing that she has avoided my +way.' + +'O my child, my child!' he said, in a forlorn manner, 'I am an +unhappy man to see you thus! What avails it to me that you do not +reproach me, if I so bitterly reproach myself!' He bent his head, +and spoke low to her. 'Louisa, I have a misgiving that some change +may have been slowly working about me in this house, by mere love +and gratitude: that what the Head had left undone and could not +do, the Heart may have been doing silently. Can it be so?' + +She made him no reply. + +'I am not too proud to believe it, Louisa. How could I be +arrogant, and you before me! Can it be so? Is it so, my dear?' +He looked upon her once more, lying cast away there; and without +another word went out of the room. He had not been long gone, when +she heard a light tread near the door, and knew that some one stood +beside her. + +She did not raise her head. A dull anger that she should be seen +in her distress, and that the involuntary look she had so resented +should come to this fulfilment, smouldered within her like an +unwholesome fire. All closely imprisoned forces rend and destroy. +The air that would be healthful to the earth, the water that would +enrich it, the heat that would ripen it, tear it when caged up. So +in her bosom even now; the strongest qualities she possessed, long +turned upon themselves, became a heap of obduracy, that rose +against a friend. + +It was well that soft touch came upon her neck, and that she +understood herself to be supposed to have fallen asleep. The +sympathetic hand did not claim her resentment. Let it lie there, +let it lie. + +It lay there, warming into life a crowd of gentler thoughts; and +she rested. As she softened with the quiet, and the consciousness +of being so watched, some tears made their way into her eyes. The +face touched hers, and she knew that there were tears upon it too, +and she the cause of them. + +As Louisa feigned to rouse herself, and sat up, Sissy retired, so +that she stood placidly near the bedside. + +'I hope I have not disturbed you. I have come to ask if you would +let me stay with you?' + +'Why should you stay with me? My sister will miss you. You are +everything to her.' + +'Am I?' returned Sissy, shaking her head. 'I would be something to +you, if I might.' + +'What?' said Louisa, almost sternly. + +'Whatever you want most, if I could be that. At all events, I +would like to try to be as near it as I can. And however far off +that may be, I will never tire of trying. Will you let me?' + +'My father sent you to ask me.' + +'No indeed,' replied Sissy. 'He told me that I might come in now, +but he sent me away from the room this morning - or at least - ' + +She hesitated and stopped. + +'At least, what?' said Louisa, with her searching eyes upon her. + +'I thought it best myself that I should be sent away, for I felt +very uncertain whether you would like to find me here.' + +'Have I always hated you so much?' + +'I hope not, for I have always loved you, and have always wished +that you should know it. But you changed to me a little, shortly +before you left home. Not that I wondered at it. You knew so +much, and I knew so little, and it was so natural in many ways, +going as you were among other friends, that I had nothing to +complain of, and was not at all hurt.' + +Her colour rose as she said it modestly and hurriedly. Louisa +understood the loving pretence, and her heart smote her. + +'May I try?' said Sissy, emboldened to raise her hand to the neck +that was insensibly drooping towards her. + +Louisa, taking down the hand that would have embraced her in +another moment, held it in one of hers, and answered: + +'First, Sissy, do you know what I am? I am so proud and so +hardened, so confused and troubled, so resentful and unjust to +every one and to myself, that everything is stormy, dark, and +wicked to me. Does not that repel you?' + +'No!' + +'I am so unhappy, and all that should have made me otherwise is so +laid waste, that if I had been bereft of sense to this hour, and +instead of being as learned as you think me, had to begin to +acquire the simplest truths, I could not want a guide to peace, +contentment, honour, all the good of which I am quite devoid, more +abjectly than I do. Does not that repel you?' + +'No!' + +In the innocence of her brave affection, and the brimming up of her +old devoted spirit, the once deserted girl shone like a beautiful +light upon the darkness of the other. + +Louisa raised the hand that it might clasp her neck and join its +fellow there. She fell upon her knees, and clinging to this +stroller's child looked up at her almost with veneration. + +'Forgive me, pity me, help me! Have compassion on my great need, +and let me lay this head of mine upon a loving heart!' + +'O lay it here!' cried Sissy. 'Lay it here, my dear.' + + + +CHAPTER II - VERY RIDICULOUS + + + +MR. JAMES HARTHOUSE passed a whole night and a day in a state of so +much hurry, that the World, with its best glass in his eye, would +scarcely have recognized him during that insane interval, as the +brother Jem of the honourable and jocular member. He was +positively agitated. He several times spoke with an emphasis, +similar to the vulgar manner. He went in and went out in an +unaccountable way, like a man without an object. He rode like a +highwayman. In a word, he was so horribly bored by existing +circumstances, that he forgot to go in for boredom in the manner +prescribed by the authorities. + +After putting his horse at Coketown through the storm, as if it +were a leap, he waited up all night: from time to time ringing his +bell with the greatest fury, charging the porter who kept watch +with delinquency in withholding letters or messages that could not +fail to have been entrusted to him, and demanding restitution on +the spot. The dawn coming, the morning coming, and the day coming, +and neither message nor letter coming with either, he went down to +the country house. There, the report was, Mr. Bounderby away, and +Mrs. Bounderby in town. Left for town suddenly last evening. Not +even known to be gone until receipt of message, importing that her +return was not to be expected for the present. + +In these circumstances he had nothing for it but to follow her to +town. He went to the house in town. Mrs. Bounderby not there. He +looked in at the Bank. Mr. Bounderby away and Mrs. Sparsit away. +Mrs. Sparsit away? Who could have been reduced to sudden extremity +for the company of that griffin! + +'Well! I don't know,' said Tom, who had his own reasons for being +uneasy about it. 'She was off somewhere at daybreak this morning. +She's always full of mystery; I hate her. So I do that white chap; +he's always got his blinking eyes upon a fellow.' + +'Where were you last night, Tom?' + +'Where was I last night!' said Tom. 'Come! I like that. I was +waiting for you, Mr. Harthouse, till it came down as I never saw it +come down before. Where was I too! Where were you, you mean.' + +'I was prevented from coming - detained.' + +'Detained!' murmured Tom. 'Two of us were detained. I was +detained looking for you, till I lost every train but the mail. It +would have been a pleasant job to go down by that on such a night, +and have to walk home through a pond. I was obliged to sleep in +town after all.' + +'Where?' + +'Where? Why, in my own bed at Bounderby's.' + +'Did you see your sister?' + +'How the deuce,' returned Tom, staring, 'could I see my sister when +she was fifteen miles off?' + +Cursing these quick retorts of the young gentleman to whom he was +so true a friend, Mr. Harthouse disembarrassed himself of that +interview with the smallest conceivable amount of ceremony, and +debated for the hundredth time what all this could mean? He made +only one thing clear. It was, that whether she was in town or out +of town, whether he had been premature with her who was so hard to +comprehend, or she had lost courage, or they were discovered, or +some mischance or mistake, at present incomprehensible, had +occurred, he must remain to confront his fortune, whatever it was. +The hotel where he was known to live when condemned to that region +of blackness, was the stake to which he was tied. As to all the +rest - What will be, will be. + +'So, whether I am waiting for a hostile message, or an assignation, +or a penitent remonstrance, or an impromptu wrestle with my friend +Bounderby in the Lancashire manner - which would seem as likely as +anything else in the present state of affairs - I'll dine,' said +Mr. James Harthouse. 'Bounderby has the advantage in point of +weight; and if anything of a British nature is to come off between +us, it may be as well to be in training.' + +Therefore he rang the bell, and tossing himself negligently on a +sofa, ordered 'Some dinner at six - with a beefsteak in it,' and +got through the intervening time as well as he could. That was not +particularly well; for he remained in the greatest perplexity, and, +as the hours went on, and no kind of explanation offered itself, +his perplexity augmented at compound interest. + +However, he took affairs as coolly as it was in human nature to do, +and entertained himself with the facetious idea of the training +more than once. 'It wouldn't be bad,' he yawned at one time, 'to +give the waiter five shillings, and throw him.' At another time it +occurred to him, 'Or a fellow of about thirteen or fourteen stone +might be hired by the hour.' But these jests did not tell +materially on the afternoon, or his suspense; and, sooth to say, +they both lagged fearfully. + +It was impossible, even before dinner, to avoid often walking about +in the pattern of the carpet, looking out of the window, listening +at the door for footsteps, and occasionally becoming rather hot +when any steps approached that room. But, after dinner, when the +day turned to twilight, and the twilight turned to night, and still +no communication was made to him, it began to be as he expressed +it, 'like the Holy Office and slow torture.' However, still true +to his conviction that indifference was the genuine high-breeding +(the only conviction he had), he seized this crisis as the +opportunity for ordering candles and a newspaper. + +He had been trying in vain, for half an hour, to read this +newspaper, when the waiter appeared and said, at once mysteriously +and apologetically: + +'Beg your pardon, sir. You're wanted, sir, if you please.' + +A general recollection that this was the kind of thing the Police +said to the swell mob, caused Mr. Harthouse to ask the waiter in +return, with bristling indignation, what the Devil he meant by +'wanted'? + +'Beg your pardon, sir. Young lady outside, sir, wishes to see +you.' + +'Outside? Where?' + +'Outside this door, sir.' + +Giving the waiter to the personage before mentioned, as a block- +head duly qualified for that consignment, Mr. Harthouse hurried +into the gallery. A young woman whom he had never seen stood +there. Plainly dressed, very quiet, very pretty. As he conducted +her into the room and placed a chair for her, he observed, by the +light of the candles, that she was even prettier than he had at +first believed. Her face was innocent and youthful, and its +expression remarkably pleasant. She was not afraid of him, or in +any way disconcerted; she seemed to have her mind entirely +preoccupied with the occasion of her visit, and to have substituted +that consideration for herself. + +'I speak to Mr. Harthouse?' she said, when they were alone. + +'To Mr. Harthouse.' He added in his mind, 'And you speak to him +with the most confiding eyes I ever saw, and the most earnest voice +(though so quiet) I ever heard.' + +'If I do not understand - and I do not, sir' - said Sissy, 'what +your honour as a gentleman binds you to, in other matters:' the +blood really rose in his face as she began in these words: 'I am +sure I may rely upon it to keep my visit secret, and to keep secret +what I am going to say. I will rely upon it, if you will tell me I +may so far trust - ' + +'You may, I assure you.' + +'I am young, as you see; I am alone, as you see. In coming to you, +sir, I have no advice or encouragement beyond my own hope.' He +thought, 'But that is very strong,' as he followed the momentary +upward glance of her eyes. He thought besides, 'This is a very odd +beginning. I don't see where we are going.' + +'I think,' said Sissy, 'you have already guessed whom I left just +now!' + +'I have been in the greatest concern and uneasiness during the last +four-and-twenty hours (which have appeared as many years),' he +returned, 'on a lady's account. The hopes I have been encouraged +to form that you come from that lady, do not deceive me, I trust.' + +'I left her within an hour.' + +'At - !' + +'At her father's.' + +Mr. Harthouse's face lengthened in spite of his coolness, and his +perplexity increased. 'Then I certainly,' he thought, 'do not see +where we are going.' + +'She hurried there last night. She arrived there in great +agitation, and was insensible all through the night. I live at her +father's, and was with her. You may be sure, sir, you will never +see her again as long as you live.' + +Mr. Harthouse drew a long breath; and, if ever man found himself in +the position of not knowing what to say, made the discovery beyond +all question that he was so circumstanced. The child-like +ingenuousness with which his visitor spoke, her modest +fearlessness, her truthfulness which put all artifice aside, her +entire forgetfulness of herself in her earnest quiet holding to the +object with which she had come; all this, together with her +reliance on his easily given promise - which in itself shamed him - +presented something in which he was so inexperienced, and against +which he knew any of his usual weapons would fall so powerless; +that not a word could he rally to his relief. + +At last he said: + +'So startling an announcement, so confidently made, and by such +lips, is really disconcerting in the last degree. May I be +permitted to inquire, if you are charged to convey that information +to me in those hopeless words, by the lady of whom we speak?' + +'I have no charge from her.' + +'The drowning man catches at the straw. With no disrespect for +your judgment, and with no doubt of your sincerity, excuse my +saying that I cling to the belief that there is yet hope that I am +not condemned to perpetual exile from that lady's presence.' + +'There is not the least hope. The first object of my coming here, +sir, is to assure you that you must believe that there is no more +hope of your ever speaking with her again, than there would be if +she had died when she came home last night.' + +'Must believe? But if I can't - or if I should, by infirmity of +nature, be obstinate - and won't - ' + +'It is still true. There is no hope.' + +James Harthouse looked at her with an incredulous smile upon his +lips; but her mind looked over and beyond him, and the smile was +quite thrown away. + +He bit his lip, and took a little time for consideration. + +'Well! If it should unhappily appear,' he said, 'after due pains +and duty on my part, that I am brought to a position so desolate as +this banishment, I shall not become the lady's persecutor. But you +said you had no commission from her?' + +'I have only the commission of my love for her, and her love for +me. I have no other trust, than that I have been with her since +she came home, and that she has given me her confidence. I have no +further trust, than that I know something of her character and her +marriage. O Mr. Harthouse, I think you had that trust too!' + +He was touched in the cavity where his heart should have been - in +that nest of addled eggs, where the birds of heaven would have +lived if they had not been whistled away - by the fervour of this +reproach. + +'I am not a moral sort of fellow,' he said, 'and I never make any +pretensions to the character of a moral sort of fellow. I am as +immoral as need be. At the same time, in bringing any distress +upon the lady who is the subject of the present conversation, or in +unfortunately compromising her in any way, or in committing myself +by any expression of sentiments towards her, not perfectly +reconcilable with - in fact with - the domestic hearth; or in +taking any advantage of her father's being a machine, or of her +brother's being a whelp, or of her husband's being a bear; I beg to +be allowed to assure you that I have had no particularly evil +intentions, but have glided on from one step to another with a +smoothness so perfectly diabolical, that I had not the slightest +idea the catalogue was half so long until I began to turn it over. +Whereas I find,' said Mr. James Harthouse, in conclusion, 'that it +is really in several volumes.' + +Though he said all this in his frivolous way, the way seemed, for +that once, a conscious polishing of but an ugly surface. He was +silent for a moment; and then proceeded with a more self-possessed +air, though with traces of vexation and disappointment that would +not be polished out. + +'After what has been just now represented to me, in a manner I find +it impossible to doubt - I know of hardly any other source from +which I could have accepted it so readily - I feel bound to say to +you, in whom the confidence you have mentioned has been reposed, +that I cannot refuse to contemplate the possibility (however +unexpected) of my seeing the lady no more. I am solely to blame +for the thing having come to this - and - and, I cannot say,' he +added, rather hard up for a general peroration, 'that I have any +sanguine expectation of ever becoming a moral sort of fellow, or +that I have any belief in any moral sort of fellow whatever.' + +Sissy's face sufficiently showed that her appeal to him was not +finished. + +'You spoke,' he resumed, as she raised her eyes to him again, 'of +your first object. I may assume that there is a second to be +mentioned?' + +'Yes.' + +'Will you oblige me by confiding it?' + +'Mr. Harthouse,' returned Sissy, with a blending of gentleness and +steadiness that quite defeated him, and with a simple confidence in +his being bound to do what she required, that held him at a +singular disadvantage, 'the only reparation that remains with you, +is to leave here immediately and finally. I am quite sure that you +can mitigate in no other way the wrong and harm you have done. I +am quite sure that it is the only compensation you have left it in +your power to make. I do not say that it is much, or that it is +enough; but it is something, and it is necessary. Therefore, +though without any other authority than I have given you, and even +without the knowledge of any other person than yourself and myself, +I ask you to depart from this place to-night, under an obligation +never to return to it.' + +If she had asserted any influence over him beyond her plain faith +in the truth and right of what she said; if she had concealed the +least doubt or irresolution, or had harboured for the best purpose +any reserve or pretence; if she had shown, or felt, the lightest +trace of any sensitiveness to his ridicule or his astonishment, or +any remonstrance he might offer; he would have carried it against +her at this point. But he could as easily have changed a clear sky +by looking at it in surprise, as affect her. + +'But do you know,' he asked, quite at a loss, 'the extent of what +you ask? You probably are not aware that I am here on a public +kind of business, preposterous enough in itself, but which I have +gone in for, and sworn by, and am supposed to be devoted to in +quite a desperate manner? You probably are not aware of that, but +I assure you it's the fact.' + +It had no effect on Sissy, fact or no fact. + +'Besides which,' said Mr. Harthouse, taking a turn or two across +the room, dubiously, 'it's so alarmingly absurd. It would make a +man so ridiculous, after going in for these fellows, to back out in +such an incomprehensible way.' + +'I am quite sure,' repeated Sissy, 'that it is the only reparation +in your power, sir. I am quite sure, or I would not have come +here.' + +He glanced at her face, and walked about again. 'Upon my soul, I +don't know what to say. So immensely absurd!' + +It fell to his lot, now, to stipulate for secrecy. + +'If I were to do such a very ridiculous thing,' he said, stopping +again presently, and leaning against the chimney-piece, 'it could +only be in the most inviolable confidence.' + +'I will trust to you, sir,' returned Sissy, 'and you will trust to +me.' + +His leaning against the chimney-piece reminded him of the night +with the whelp. It was the self-same chimney-piece, and somehow he +felt as if he were the whelp to-night. He could make no way at +all. + +'I suppose a man never was placed in a more ridiculous position,' +he said, after looking down, and looking up, and laughing, and +frowning, and walking off, and walking back again. 'But I see no +way out of it. What will be, will be. This will be, I suppose. I +must take off myself, I imagine - in short, I engage to do it.' + +Sissy rose. She was not surprised by the result, but she was happy +in it, and her face beamed brightly. + +'You will permit me to say,' continued Mr. James Harthouse, 'that I +doubt if any other ambassador, or ambassadress, could have +addressed me with the same success. I must not only regard myself +as being in a very ridiculous position, but as being vanquished at +all points. Will you allow me the privilege of remembering my +enemy's name?' + +'My name?' said the ambassadress. + +'The only name I could possibly care to know, to-night.' + +'Sissy Jupe.' + +'Pardon my curiosity at parting. Related to the family?' + +'I am only a poor girl,' returned Sissy. 'I was separated from my +father - he was only a stroller - and taken pity on by Mr. +Gradgrind. I have lived in the house ever since.' + +She was gone. + +'It wanted this to complete the defeat,' said Mr. James Harthouse, +sinking, with a resigned air, on the sofa, after standing +transfixed a little while. 'The defeat may now be considered +perfectly accomplished. Only a poor girl - only a stroller - only +James Harthouse made nothing of - only James Harthouse a Great +Pyramid of failure.' + +The Great Pyramid put it into his head to go up the Nile. He took +a pen upon the instant, and wrote the following note (in +appropriate hieroglyphics) to his brother: + + +Dear Jack, - All up at Coketown. Bored out of the place, and going +in for camels. Affectionately, JEM, + + +He rang the bell. + +'Send my fellow here.' + +'Gone to bed, sir.' + +'Tell him to get up, and pack up.' + +He wrote two more notes. One, to Mr. Bounderby, announcing his +retirement from that part of the country, and showing where he +would be found for the next fortnight. The other, similar in +effect, to Mr. Gradgrind. Almost as soon as the ink was dry upon +their superscriptions, he had left the tall chimneys of Coketown +behind, and was in a railway carriage, tearing and glaring over the +dark landscape. + +The moral sort of fellows might suppose that Mr. James Harthouse +derived some comfortable reflections afterwards, from this prompt +retreat, as one of his few actions that made any amends for +anything, and as a token to himself that he had escaped the climax +of a very bad business. But it was not so, at all. A secret sense +of having failed and been ridiculous - a dread of what other +fellows who went in for similar sorts of things, would say at his +expense if they knew it - so oppressed him, that what was about the +very best passage in his life was the one of all others he would +not have owned to on any account, and the only one that made him +ashamed of himself. + + + +CHAPTER III - VERY DECIDED + + + +THE indefatigable Mrs. Sparsit, with a violent cold upon her, her +voice reduced to a whisper, and her stately frame so racked by +continual sneezes that it seemed in danger of dismemberment, gave +chase to her patron until she found him in the metropolis; and +there, majestically sweeping in upon him at his hotel in St. +James's Street, exploded the combustibles with which she was +charged, and blew up. Having executed her mission with infinite +relish, this high-minded woman then fainted away on Mr. Bounderby's +coat-collar. + +Mr. Bounderby's first procedure was to shake Mrs. Sparsit off, and +leave her to progress as she might through various stages of +suffering on the floor. He next had recourse to the administration +of potent restoratives, such as screwing the patient's thumbs, +smiting her hands, abundantly watering her face, and inserting salt +in her mouth. When these attentions had recovered her (which they +speedily did), he hustled her into a fast train without offering +any other refreshment, and carried her back to Coketown more dead +than alive. + +Regarded as a classical ruin, Mrs. Sparsit was an interesting +spectacle on her arrival at her journey's end; but considered in +any other light, the amount of damage she had by that time +sustained was excessive, and impaired her claims to admiration. +Utterly heedless of the wear and tear of her clothes and +constitution, and adamant to her pathetic sneezes, Mr. Bounderby +immediately crammed her into a coach, and bore her off to Stone +Lodge. + +'Now, Tom Gradgrind,' said Bounderby, bursting into his father-in- +law's room late at night; 'here's a lady here - Mrs. Sparsit - you +know Mrs. Sparsit - who has something to say to you that will +strike you dumb.' + +'You have missed my letter!' exclaimed Mr. Gradgrind, surprised by +the apparition. + +'Missed your letter, sir!' bawled Bounderby. 'The present time is +no time for letters. No man shall talk to Josiah Bounderby of +Coketown about letters, with his mind in the state it's in now.' + +'Bounderby,' said Mr. Gradgrind, in a tone of temperate +remonstrance, 'I speak of a very special letter I have written to +you, in reference to Louisa.' + +'Tom Gradgrind,' replied Bounderby, knocking the flat of his hand +several times with great vehemence on the table, 'I speak of a very +special messenger that has come to me, in reference to Louisa. +Mrs. Sparsit, ma'am, stand forward!' + +That unfortunate lady hereupon essaying to offer testimony, without +any voice and with painful gestures expressive of an inflamed +throat, became so aggravating and underwent so many facial +contortions, that Mr. Bounderby, unable to bear it, seized her by +the arm and shook her. + +'If you can't get it out, ma'am,' said Bounderby, 'leave me to get +it out. This is not a time for a lady, however highly connected, +to be totally inaudible, and seemingly swallowing marbles. Tom +Gradgrind, Mrs. Sparsit latterly found herself, by accident, in a +situation to overhear a conversation out of doors between your +daughter and your precious gentleman-friend, Mr. James Harthouse.' + +'Indeed!' said Mr. Gradgrind. + +'Ah! Indeed!' cried Bounderby. 'And in that conversation - ' + +'It is not necessary to repeat its tenor, Bounderby. I know what +passed.' + +'You do? Perhaps,' said Bounderby, staring with all his might at +his so quiet and assuasive father-in-law, 'you know where your +daughter is at the present time!' + +'Undoubtedly. She is here.' + +'Here?' + +'My dear Bounderby, let me beg you to restrain these loud out- +breaks, on all accounts. Louisa is here. The moment she could +detach herself from that interview with the person of whom you +speak, and whom I deeply regret to have been the means of +introducing to you, Louisa hurried here, for protection. I myself +had not been at home many hours, when I received her - here, in +this room. She hurried by the train to town, she ran from town to +this house, through a raging storm, and presented herself before me +in a state of distraction. Of course, she has remained here ever +since. Let me entreat you, for your own sake and for hers, to be +more quiet.' + +Mr. Bounderby silently gazed about him for some moments, in every +direction except Mrs. Sparsit's direction; and then, abruptly +turning upon the niece of Lady Scadgers, said to that wretched +woman: + +'Now, ma'am! We shall be happy to hear any little apology you may +think proper to offer, for going about the country at express pace, +with no other luggage than a Cock-and-a-Bull, ma'am!' + +'Sir,' whispered Mrs. Sparsit, 'my nerves are at present too much +shaken, and my health is at present too much impaired, in your +service, to admit of my doing more than taking refuge in tears.' +(Which she did.) + +'Well, ma'am,' said Bounderby, 'without making any observation to +you that may not be made with propriety to a woman of good family, +what I have got to add to that, is that there is something else in +which it appears to me you may take refuge, namely, a coach. And +the coach in which we came here being at the door, you'll allow me +to hand you down to it, and pack you home to the Bank: where the +best course for you to pursue, will be to put your feet into the +hottest water you can bear, and take a glass of scalding rum and +butter after you get into bed.' With these words, Mr. Bounderby +extended his right hand to the weeping lady, and escorted her to +the conveyance in question, shedding many plaintive sneezes by the +way. He soon returned alone. + +'Now, as you showed me in your face, Tom Gradgrind, that you wanted +to speak to me,' he resumed, 'here I am. But, I am not in a very +agreeable state, I tell you plainly: not relishing this business, +even as it is, and not considering that I am at any time as +dutifully and submissively treated by your daughter, as Josiah +Bounderby of Coketown ought to be treated by his wife. You have +your opinion, I dare say; and I have mine, I know. If you mean to +say anything to me to-night, that goes against this candid remark, +you had better let it alone.' + +Mr. Gradgrind, it will be observed, being much softened, Mr. +Bounderby took particular pains to harden himself at all points. +It was his amiable nature. + +'My dear Bounderby,' Mr. Gradgrind began in reply. + +'Now, you'll excuse me,' said Bounderby, 'but I don't want to be +too dear. That, to start with. When I begin to be dear to a man, +I generally find that his intention is to come over me. I am not +speaking to you politely; but, as you are aware, I am not polite. +If you like politeness, you know where to get it. You have your +gentleman-friends, you know, and they'll serve you with as much of +the article as you want. I don't keep it myself.' + +'Bounderby,' urged Mr. Gradgrind, 'we are all liable to mistakes - +' + +'I thought you couldn't make 'em,' interrupted Bounderby. + +'Perhaps I thought so. But, I say we are all liable to mistakes +and I should feel sensible of your delicacy, and grateful for it, +if you would spare me these references to Harthouse. I shall not +associate him in our conversation with your intimacy and +encouragement; pray do not persist in connecting him with mine.' + +'I never mentioned his name!' said Bounderby. + +'Well, well!' returned Mr. Gradgrind, with a patient, even a +submissive, air. And he sat for a little while pondering. +'Bounderby, I see reason to doubt whether we have ever quite +understood Louisa.' + +'Who do you mean by We?' + +'Let me say I, then,' he returned, in answer to the coarsely +blurted question; 'I doubt whether I have understood Louisa. I +doubt whether I have been quite right in the manner of her +education.' + +'There you hit it,' returned Bounderby. 'There I agree with you. +You have found it out at last, have you? Education! I'll tell you +what education is - To be tumbled out of doors, neck and crop, and +put upon the shortest allowance of everything except blows. That's +what I call education.' + +'I think your good sense will perceive,' Mr. Gradgrind remonstrated +in all humility, 'that whatever the merits of such a system may be, +it would be difficult of general application to girls.' + +'I don't see it at all, sir,' returned the obstinate Bounderby. + +'Well,' sighed Mr. Gradgrind, 'we will not enter into the question. +I assure you I have no desire to be controversial. I seek to +repair what is amiss, if I possibly can; and I hope you will assist +me in a good spirit, Bounderby, for I have been very much +distressed.' + +'I don't understand you, yet,' said Bounderby, with determined +obstinacy, 'and therefore I won't make any promises.' + +'In the course of a few hours, my dear Bounderby,' Mr. Gradgrind +proceeded, in the same depressed and propitiatory manner, 'I appear +to myself to have become better informed as to Louisa's character, +than in previous years. The enlightenment has been painfully +forced upon me, and the discovery is not mine. I think there are - +Bounderby, you will be surprised to hear me say this - I think +there are qualities in Louisa, which - which have been harshly +neglected, and - and a little perverted. And - and I would suggest +to you, that - that if you would kindly meet me in a timely +endeavour to leave her to her better nature for a while - and to +encourage it to develop itself by tenderness and consideration - it +- it would be the better for the happiness of all of us. Louisa,' +said Mr. Gradgrind, shading his face with his hand, 'has always +been my favourite child.' + +The blustrous Bounderby crimsoned and swelled to such an extent on +hearing these words, that he seemed to be, and probably was, on the +brink of a fit. With his very ears a bright purple shot with +crimson, he pent up his indignation, however, and said: + +'You'd like to keep her here for a time?' + +'I - I had intended to recommend, my dear Bounderby, that you +should allow Louisa to remain here on a visit, and be attended by +Sissy (I mean of course Cecilia Jupe), who understands her, and in +whom she trusts.' + +'I gather from all this, Tom Gradgrind,' said Bounderby, standing +up with his hands in his pockets, 'that you are of opinion that +there's what people call some incompatibility between Loo Bounderby +and myself.' + +'I fear there is at present a general incompatibility between +Louisa, and - and - and almost all the relations in which I have +placed her,' was her father's sorrowful reply. + +'Now, look you here, Tom Gradgrind,' said Bounderby the flushed, +confronting him with his legs wide apart, his hands deeper in his +pockets, and his hair like a hayfield wherein his windy anger was +boisterous. 'You have said your say; I am going to say mine. I am +a Coketown man. I am Josiah Bounderby of Coketown. I know the +bricks of this town, and I know the works of this town, and I know +the chimneys of this town, and I know the smoke of this town, and I +know the Hands of this town. I know 'em all pretty well. They're +real. When a man tells me anything about imaginative qualities, I +always tell that man, whoever he is, that I know what he means. He +means turtle soup and venison, with a gold spoon, and that he wants +to be set up with a coach and six. That's what your daughter +wants. Since you are of opinion that she ought to have what she +wants, I recommend you to provide it for her. Because, Tom +Gradgrind, she will never have it from me.' + +'Bounderby,' said Mr. Gradgrind, 'I hoped, after my entreaty, you +would have taken a different tone.' + +'Just wait a bit,' retorted Bounderby; 'you have said your say, I +believe. I heard you out; hear me out, if you please. Don't make +yourself a spectacle of unfairness as well as inconsistency, +because, although I am sorry to see Tom Gradgrind reduced to his +present position, I should be doubly sorry to see him brought so +low as that. Now, there's an incompatibility of some sort or +another, I am given to understand by you, between your daughter and +me. I'll give you to understand, in reply to that, that there +unquestionably is an incompatibility of the first magnitude - to be +summed up in this - that your daughter don't properly know her +husband's merits, and is not impressed with such a sense as would +become her, by George! of the honour of his alliance. That's plain +speaking, I hope.' + +'Bounderby,' urged Mr. Gradgrind, 'this is unreasonable.' + +'Is it?' said Bounderby. 'I am glad to hear you say so. Because +when Tom Gradgrind, with his new lights, tells me that what I say +is unreasonable, I am convinced at once it must be devilish +sensible. With your permission I am going on. You know my origin; +and you know that for a good many years of my life I didn't want a +shoeing-horn, in consequence of not having a shoe. Yet you may +believe or not, as you think proper, that there are ladies - born +ladies - belonging to families - Families! - who next to worship +the ground I walk on.' + +He discharged this like a Rocket, at his father-in-law's head. + +'Whereas your daughter,' proceeded Bounderby, 'is far from being a +born lady. That you know, yourself. Not that I care a pinch of +candle-snuff about such things, for you are very well aware I +don't; but that such is the fact, and you, Tom Gradgrind, can't +change it. Why do I say this?' + +'Not, I fear,' observed Mr. Gradgrind, in a low voice, 'to spare +me.' + +'Hear me out,' said Bounderby, 'and refrain from cutting in till +your turn comes round. I say this, because highly connected +females have been astonished to see the way in which your daughter +has conducted herself, and to witness her insensibility. They have +wondered how I have suffered it. And I wonder myself now, and I +won't suffer it.' + +'Bounderby,' returned Mr. Gradgrind, rising, 'the less we say to- +night the better, I think.' + +'On the contrary, Tom Gradgrind, the more we say to-night, the +better, I think. That is,' the consideration checked him, 'till I +have said all I mean to say, and then I don't care how soon we +stop. I come to a question that may shorten the business. What do +you mean by the proposal you made just now?' + +'What do I mean, Bounderby?' + +'By your visiting proposition,' said Bounderby, with an inflexible +jerk of the hayfield. + +'I mean that I hope you may be induced to arrange in a friendly +manner, for allowing Louisa a period of repose and reflection here, +which may tend to a gradual alteration for the better in many +respects.' + +'To a softening down of your ideas of the incompatibility?' said +Bounderby. + +'If you put it in those terms.' + +'What made you think of this?' said Bounderby. + +'I have already said, I fear Louisa has not been understood. Is it +asking too much, Bounderby, that you, so far her elder, should aid +in trying to set her right? You have accepted a great charge of +her; for better for worse, for - ' + +Mr. Bounderby may have been annoyed by the repetition of his own +words to Stephen Blackpool, but he cut the quotation short with an +angry start. + +'Come!' said he, 'I don't want to be told about that. I know what +I took her for, as well as you do. Never you mind what I took her +for; that's my look out.' + +'I was merely going on to remark, Bounderby, that we may all be +more or less in the wrong, not even excepting you; and that some +yielding on your part, remembering the trust you have accepted, may +not only be an act of true kindness, but perhaps a debt incurred +towards Louisa.' + +'I think differently,' blustered Bounderby. 'I am going to finish +this business according to my own opinions. Now, I don't want to +make a quarrel of it with you, Tom Gradgrind. To tell you the +truth, I don't think it would be worthy of my reputation to quarrel +on such a subject. As to your gentleman-friend, he may take +himself off, wherever he likes best. If he falls in my way, I +shall tell him my mind; if he don't fall in my way, I shan't, for +it won't be worth my while to do it. As to your daughter, whom I +made Loo Bounderby, and might have done better by leaving Loo +Gradgrind, if she don't come home to-morrow, by twelve o'clock at +noon, I shall understand that she prefers to stay away, and I shall +send her wearing apparel and so forth over here, and you'll take +charge of her for the future. What I shall say to people in +general, of the incompatibility that led to my so laying down the +law, will be this. I am Josiah Bounderby, and I had my bringing- +up; she's the daughter of Tom Gradgrind, and she had her bringing- +up; and the two horses wouldn't pull together. I am pretty well +known to be rather an uncommon man, I believe; and most people will +understand fast enough that it must be a woman rather out of the +common, also, who, in the long run, would come up to my mark.' + +'Let me seriously entreat you to reconsider this, Bounderby,' urged +Mr. Gradgrind, 'before you commit yourself to such a decision.' + +'I always come to a decision,' said Bounderby, tossing his hat on: +'and whatever I do, I do at once. I should be surprised at Tom +Gradgrind's addressing such a remark to Josiah Bounderby of +Coketown, knowing what he knows of him, if I could be surprised by +anything Tom Gradgrind did, after his making himself a party to +sentimental humbug. I have given you my decision, and I have got +no more to say. Good night!' + +So Mr. Bounderby went home to his town house to bed. At five +minutes past twelve o'clock next day, he directed Mrs. Bounderby's +property to be carefully packed up and sent to Tom Gradgrind's; +advertised his country retreat for sale by private contract; and +resumed a bachelor life. + + + +CHAPTER IV - LOST + + + +THE robbery at the Bank had not languished before, and did not +cease to occupy a front place in the attention of the principal of +that establishment now. In boastful proof of his promptitude and +activity, as a remarkable man, and a self-made man, and a +commercial wonder more admirable than Venus, who had risen out of +the mud instead of the sea, he liked to show how little his +domestic affairs abated his business ardour. Consequently, in the +first few weeks of his resumed bachelorhood, he even advanced upon +his usual display of bustle, and every day made such a rout in +renewing his investigations into the robbery, that the officers who +had it in hand almost wished it had never been committed. + +They were at fault too, and off the scent. Although they had been +so quiet since the first outbreak of the matter, that most people +really did suppose it to have been abandoned as hopeless, nothing +new occurred. No implicated man or woman took untimely courage, or +made a self-betraying step. More remarkable yet, Stephen Blackpool +could not be heard of, and the mysterious old woman remained a +mystery. + +Things having come to this pass, and showing no latent signs of +stirring beyond it, the upshot of Mr. Bounderby's investigations +was, that he resolved to hazard a bold burst. He drew up a +placard, offering Twenty Pounds reward for the apprehension of +Stephen Blackpool, suspected of complicity in the robbery of +Coketown Bank on such a night; he described the said Stephen +Blackpool by dress, complexion, estimated height, and manner, as +minutely as he could; he recited how he had left the town, and in +what direction he had been last seen going; he had the whole +printed in great black letters on a staring broadsheet; and he +caused the walls to be posted with it in the dead of night, so that +it should strike upon the sight of the whole population at one +blow. + +The factory-bells had need to ring their loudest that morning to +disperse the groups of workers who stood in the tardy daybreak, +collected round the placards, devouring them with eager eyes. Not +the least eager of the eyes assembled, were the eyes of those who +could not read. These people, as they listened to the friendly +voice that read aloud - there was always some such ready to help +them - stared at the characters which meant so much with a vague +awe and respect that would have been half ludicrous, if any aspect +of public ignorance could ever be otherwise than threatening and +full of evil. Many ears and eyes were busy with a vision of the +matter of these placards, among turning spindles, rattling looms, +and whirling wheels, for hours afterwards; and when the Hands +cleared out again into the streets, there were still as many +readers as before. + +Slackbridge, the delegate, had to address his audience too that +night; and Slackbridge had obtained a clean bill from the printer, +and had brought it in his pocket. Oh, my friends and fellow- +countrymen, the down-trodden operatives of Coketown, oh, my fellow- +brothers and fellow-workmen and fellow-citizens and fellowmen, what +a to-do was there, when Slackbridge unfolded what he called 'that +damning document,' and held it up to the gaze, and for the +execration of the working-man community! 'Oh, my fellow-men, +behold of what a traitor in the camp of those great spirits who are +enrolled upon the holy scroll of Justice and of Union, is +appropriately capable! Oh, my prostrate friends, with the galling +yoke of tyrants on your necks and the iron foot of despotism +treading down your fallen forms into the dust of the earth, upon +which right glad would your oppressors be to see you creeping on +your bellies all the days of your lives, like the serpent in the +garden - oh, my brothers, and shall I as a man not add, my sisters +too, what do you say, now, of Stephen Blackpool, with a slight +stoop in his shoulders and about five foot seven in height, as set +forth in this degrading and disgusting document, this blighting +bill, this pernicious placard, this abominable advertisement; and +with what majesty of denouncement will you crush the viper, who +would bring this stain and shame upon the God-like race that +happily has cast him out for ever! Yes, my compatriots, happily +cast him out and sent him forth! For you remember how he stood +here before you on this platform; you remember how, face to face +and foot to foot, I pursued him through all his intricate windings; +you remember how he sneaked and slunk, and sidled, and splitted of +straws, until, with not an inch of ground to which to cling, I +hurled him out from amongst us: an object for the undying finger +of scorn to point at, and for the avenging fire of every free and +thinking mind to scorch and scar! And now, my friends - my +labouring friends, for I rejoice and triumph in that stigma - my +friends whose hard but honest beds are made in toil, and whose +scanty but independent pots are boiled in hardship; and now, I say, +my friends, what appellation has that dastard craven taken to +himself, when, with the mask torn from his features, he stands +before us in all his native deformity, a What? A thief! A +plunderer! A proscribed fugitive, with a price upon his head; a +fester and a wound upon the noble character of the Coketown +operative! Therefore, my band of brothers in a sacred bond, to +which your children and your children's children yet unborn have +set their infant hands and seals, I propose to you on the part of +the United Aggregate Tribunal, ever watchful for your welfare, ever +zealous for your benefit, that this meeting does Resolve: That +Stephen Blackpool, weaver, referred to in this placard, having been +already solemnly disowned by the community of Coketown Hands, the +same are free from the shame of his misdeeds, and cannot as a class +be reproached with his dishonest actions!' + +Thus Slackbridge; gnashing and perspiring after a prodigious sort. +A few stern voices called out 'No!' and a score or two hailed, with +assenting cries of 'Hear, hear!' the caution from one man, +'Slackbridge, y'or over hetter in't; y'or a goen too fast!' But +these were pigmies against an army; the general assemblage +subscribed to the gospel according to Slackbridge, and gave three +cheers for him, as he sat demonstratively panting at them. + +These men and women were yet in the streets, passing quietly to +their homes, when Sissy, who had been called away from Louisa some +minutes before, returned. + +'Who is it?' asked Louisa. + +'It is Mr. Bounderby,' said Sissy, timid of the name, 'and your +brother Mr. Tom, and a young woman who says her name is Rachael, +and that you know her.' + +'What do they want, Sissy dear?' + +'They want to see you. Rachael has been crying, and seems angry.' + +'Father,' said Louisa, for he was present, 'I cannot refuse to see +them, for a reason that will explain itself. Shall they come in +here?' + +As he answered in the affirmative, Sissy went away to bring them. +She reappeared with them directly. Tom was last; and remained +standing in the obscurest part of the room, near the door. + +'Mrs. Bounderby,' said her husband, entering with a cool nod, 'I +don't disturb you, I hope. This is an unseasonable hour, but here +is a young woman who has been making statements which render my +visit necessary. Tom Gradgrind, as your son, young Tom, refuses +for some obstinate reason or other to say anything at all about +those statements, good or bad, I am obliged to confront her with +your daughter.' + +'You have seen me once before, young lady,' said Rachael, standing +in front of Louisa. + +Tom coughed. + +'You have seen me, young lady,' repeated Rachael, as she did not +answer, 'once before.' + +Tom coughed again. + +'I have.' + +Rachael cast her eyes proudly towards Mr. Bounderby, and said, +'Will you make it known, young lady, where, and who was there?' + +'I went to the house where Stephen Blackpool lodged, on the night +of his discharge from his work, and I saw you there. He was there +too; and an old woman who did not speak, and whom I could scarcely +see, stood in a dark corner. My brother was with me.' + +'Why couldn't you say so, young Tom?' demanded Bounderby. + +'I promised my sister I wouldn't.' Which Louisa hastily confirmed. +'And besides,' said the whelp bitterly, 'she tells her own story so +precious well - and so full - that what business had I to take it +out of her mouth!' + +'Say, young lady, if you please,' pursued Rachael, 'why, in an evil +hour, you ever came to Stephen's that night.' + +'I felt compassion for him,' said Louisa, her colour deepening, +'and I wished to know what he was going to do, and wished to offer +him assistance.' + +'Thank you, ma'am,' said Bounderby. 'Much flattered and obliged.' + +'Did you offer him,' asked Rachael, 'a bank-note?' + +'Yes; but he refused it, and would only take two pounds in gold.' + +Rachael cast her eyes towards Mr. Bounderby again. + +'Oh, certainly!' said Bounderby. 'If you put the question whether +your ridiculous and improbable account was true or not, I am bound +to say it's confirmed.' + +'Young lady,' said Rachael, 'Stephen Blackpool is now named as a +thief in public print all over this town, and where else! There +have been a meeting to-night where he have been spoken of in the +same shameful way. Stephen! The honestest lad, the truest lad, +the best!' Her indignation failed her, and she broke off sobbing. + +'I am very, very sorry,' said Louisa. + +'Oh, young lady, young lady,' returned Rachael, 'I hope you may be, +but I don't know! I can't say what you may ha' done! The like of +you don't know us, don't care for us, don't belong to us. I am not +sure why you may ha' come that night. I can't tell but what you +may ha' come wi' some aim of your own, not mindin to what trouble +you brought such as the poor lad. I said then, Bless you for +coming; and I said it of my heart, you seemed to take so pitifully +to him; but I don't know now, I don't know!' + +Louisa could not reproach her for her unjust suspicions; she was so +faithful to her idea of the man, and so afflicted. + +'And when I think,' said Rachael through her sobs, 'that the poor +lad was so grateful, thinkin you so good to him - when I mind that +he put his hand over his hard-worken face to hide the tears that +you brought up there - Oh, I hope you may be sorry, and ha' no bad +cause to be it; but I don't know, I don't know!' + +'You're a pretty article,' growled the whelp, moving uneasily in +his dark corner, 'to come here with these precious imputations! +You ought to be bundled out for not knowing how to behave yourself, +and you would be by rights.' + +She said nothing in reply; and her low weeping was the only sound +that was heard, until Mr. Bounderby spoke. + +'Come!' said he, 'you know what you have engaged to do. You had +better give your mind to that; not this.' + +''Deed, I am loath,' returned Rachael, drying her eyes, 'that any +here should see me like this; but I won't be seen so again. Young +lady, when I had read what's put in print of Stephen - and what has +just as much truth in it as if it had been put in print of you - I +went straight to the Bank to say I knew where Stephen was, and to +give a sure and certain promise that he should be here in two days. +I couldn't meet wi' Mr. Bounderby then, and your brother sent me +away, and I tried to find you, but you was not to be found, and I +went back to work. Soon as I come out of the Mill to-night, I +hastened to hear what was said of Stephen - for I know wi' pride he +will come back to shame it! - and then I went again to seek Mr. +Bounderby, and I found him, and I told him every word I knew; and +he believed no word I said, and brought me here.' + +'So far, that's true enough,' assented Mr. Bounderby, with his +hands in his pockets and his hat on. 'But I have known you people +before to-day, you'll observe, and I know you never die for want of +talking. Now, I recommend you not so much to mind talking just +now, as doing. You have undertaken to do something; all I remark +upon that at present is, do it!' + +'I have written to Stephen by the post that went out this +afternoon, as I have written to him once before sin' he went away,' +said Rachael; 'and he will be here, at furthest, in two days.' + +'Then, I'll tell you something. You are not aware perhaps,' +retorted Mr. Bounderby, 'that you yourself have been looked after +now and then, not being considered quite free from suspicion in +this business, on account of most people being judged according to +the company they keep. The post-office hasn't been forgotten +either. What I'll tell you is, that no letter to Stephen Blackpool +has ever got into it. Therefore, what has become of yours, I leave +you to guess. Perhaps you're mistaken, and never wrote any.' + +'He hadn't been gone from here, young lady,' said Rachael, turning +appealingly to Louisa, 'as much as a week, when he sent me the only +letter I have had from him, saying that he was forced to seek work +in another name.' + +'Oh, by George!' cried Bounderby, shaking his head, with a whistle, +'he changes his name, does he! That's rather unlucky, too, for +such an immaculate chap. It's considered a little suspicious in +Courts of Justice, I believe, when an Innocent happens to have many +names.' + +'What,' said Rachael, with the tears in her eyes again, 'what, +young lady, in the name of Mercy, was left the poor lad to do! The +masters against him on one hand, the men against him on the other, +he only wantin to work hard in peace, and do what he felt right. +Can a man have no soul of his own, no mind of his own? Must he go +wrong all through wi' this side, or must he go wrong all through +wi' that, or else be hunted like a hare?' + +'Indeed, indeed, I pity him from my heart,' returned Louisa; 'and I +hope that he will clear himself.' + +'You need have no fear of that, young lady. He is sure!' + +'All the surer, I suppose,' said Mr. Bounderby, 'for your refusing +to tell where he is? Eh?' + +'He shall not, through any act of mine, come back wi' the unmerited +reproach of being brought back. He shall come back of his own +accord to clear himself, and put all those that have injured his +good character, and he not here for its defence, to shame. I have +told him what has been done against him,' said Rachael, throwing +off all distrust as a rock throws of the sea, 'and he will be here, +at furthest, in two days.' + +'Notwithstanding which,' added Mr. Bounderby, 'if he can be laid +hold of any sooner, he shall have an earlier opportunity of +clearing himself. As to you, I have nothing against you; what you +came and told me turns out to be true, and I have given you the +means of proving it to be true, and there's an end of it. I wish +you good night all! I must be off to look a little further into +this.' + +Tom came out of his corner when Mr. Bounderby moved, moved with +him, kept close to him, and went away with him. The only parting +salutation of which he delivered himself was a sulky 'Good night, +father!' With a brief speech, and a scowl at his sister, he left +the house. + +Since his sheet-anchor had come home, Mr. Gradgrind had been +sparing of speech. He still sat silent, when Louisa mildly said: + +'Rachael, you will not distrust me one day, when you know me +better.' + +'It goes against me,' Rachael answered, in a gentler manner, 'to +mistrust any one; but when I am so mistrusted - when we all are - I +cannot keep such things quite out of my mind. I ask your pardon +for having done you an injury. I don't think what I said now. Yet +I might come to think it again, wi' the poor lad so wronged.' + +'Did you tell him in your letter,' inquired Sissy, 'that suspicion +seemed to have fallen upon him, because he had been seen about the +Bank at night? He would then know what he would have to explain on +coming back, and would be ready.' + +'Yes, dear,' she returned; 'but I can't guess what can have ever +taken him there. He never used to go there. It was never in his +way. His way was the same as mine, and not near it.' + +Sissy had already been at her side asking her where she lived, and +whether she might come to-morrow night, to inquire if there were +news of him. + +'I doubt,' said Rachael, 'if he can be here till next day.' + +'Then I will come next night too,' said Sissy. + +When Rachael, assenting to this, was gone, Mr. Gradgrind lifted up +his head, and said to his daughter: + +'Louisa, my dear, I have never, that I know of, seen this man. Do +you believe him to be implicated?' + +'I think I have believed it, father, though with great difficulty. +I do not believe it now.' + +'That is to say, you once persuaded yourself to believe it, from +knowing him to be suspected. His appearance and manner; are they +so honest?' + +'Very honest.' + +'And her confidence not to be shaken! I ask myself,' said Mr. +Gradgrind, musing, 'does the real culprit know of these +accusations? Where is he? Who is he?' + +His hair had latterly began to change its colour. As he leaned +upon his hand again, looking gray and old, Louisa, with a face of +fear and pity, hurriedly went over to him, and sat close at his +side. Her eyes by accident met Sissy's at the moment. Sissy +flushed and started, and Louisa put her finger on her lip. + +Next night, when Sissy returned home and told Louisa that Stephen +was not come, she told it in a whisper. Next night again, when she +came home with the same account, and added that he had not been +heard of, she spoke in the same low frightened tone. From the +moment of that interchange of looks, they never uttered his name, +or any reference to him, aloud; nor ever pursued the subject of the +robbery, when Mr. Gradgrind spoke of it. + +The two appointed days ran out, three days and nights ran out, and +Stephen Blackpool was not come, and remained unheard of. On the +fourth day, Rachael, with unabated confidence, but considering her +despatch to have miscarried, went up to the Bank, and showed her +letter from him with his address, at a working colony, one of many, +not upon the main road, sixty miles away. Messengers were sent to +that place, and the whole town looked for Stephen to be brought in +next day. + +During this whole time the whelp moved about with Mr. Bounderby +like his shadow, assisting in all the proceedings. He was greatly +excited, horribly fevered, bit his nails down to the quick, spoke +in a hard rattling voice, and with lips that were black and burnt +up. At the hour when the suspected man was looked for, the whelp +was at the station; offering to wager that he had made off before +the arrival of those who were sent in quest of him, and that he +would not appear. + +The whelp was right. The messengers returned alone. Rachael's +letter had gone, Rachael's letter had been delivered. Stephen +Blackpool had decamped in that same hour; and no soul knew more of +him. The only doubt in Coketown was, whether Rachael had written +in good faith, believing that he really would come back, or warning +him to fly. On this point opinion was divided. + +Six days, seven days, far on into another week. The wretched whelp +plucked up a ghastly courage, and began to grow defiant. 'Was the +suspected fellow the thief? A pretty question! If not, where was +the man, and why did he not come back?' + +Where was the man, and why did he not come back? In the dead of +night the echoes of his own words, which had rolled Heaven knows +how far away in the daytime, came back instead, and abided by him +until morning. + + + +CHAPTER V - FOUND + + + +DAY and night again, day and night again. No Stephen Blackpool. +Where was the man, and why did he not come back? + +Every night, Sissy went to Rachael's lodging, and sat with her in +her small neat room. All day, Rachael toiled as such people must +toil, whatever their anxieties. The smoke-serpents were +indifferent who was lost or found, who turned out bad or good; the +melancholy mad elephants, like the Hard Fact men, abated nothing of +their set routine, whatever happened. Day and night again, day and +night again. The monotony was unbroken. Even Stephen Blackpool's +disappearance was falling into the general way, and becoming as +monotonous a wonder as any piece of machinery in Coketown. + +'I misdoubt,' said Rachael, 'if there is as many as twenty left in +all this place, who have any trust in the poor dear lad now.' + +She said it to Sissy, as they sat in her lodging, lighted only by +the lamp at the street corner. Sissy had come there when it was +already dark, to await her return from work; and they had since sat +at the window where Rachael had found her, wanting no brighter +light to shine on their sorrowful talk. + +'If it hadn't been mercifully brought about, that I was to have you +to speak to,' pursued Rachael, 'times are, when I think my mind +would not have kept right. But I get hope and strength through +you; and you believe that though appearances may rise against him, +he will be proved clear?' + +'I do believe so,' returned Sissy, 'with my whole heart. I feel so +certain, Rachael, that the confidence you hold in yours against all +discouragement, is not like to be wrong, that I have no more doubt +of him than if I had known him through as many years of trial as +you have.' + +'And I, my dear,' said Rachel, with a tremble in her voice, 'have +known him through them all, to be, according to his quiet ways, so +faithful to everything honest and good, that if he was never to be +heard of more, and I was to live to be a hundred years old, I could +say with my last breath, God knows my heart. I have never once +left trusting Stephen Blackpool!' + +'We all believe, up at the Lodge, Rachael, that he will be freed +from suspicion, sooner or later.' + +'The better I know it to be so believed there, my dear,' said +Rachael, 'and the kinder I feel it that you come away from there, +purposely to comfort me, and keep me company, and be seen wi' me +when I am not yet free from all suspicion myself, the more grieved +I am that I should ever have spoken those mistrusting words to the +young lady. And yet I - ' + +'You don't mistrust her now, Rachael?' + +'Now that you have brought us more together, no. But I can't at +all times keep out of my mind - ' + +Her voice so sunk into a low and slow communing with herself, that +Sissy, sitting by her side, was obliged to listen with attention. + +'I can't at all times keep out of my mind, mistrustings of some +one. I can't think who 'tis, I can't think how or why it may be +done, but I mistrust that some one has put Stephen out of the way. +I mistrust that by his coming back of his own accord, and showing +himself innocent before them all, some one would be confounded, who +- to prevent that - has stopped him, and put him out of the way.' + +'That is a dreadful thought,' said Sissy, turning pale. + +'It is a dreadful thought to think he may be murdered.' + +Sissy shuddered, and turned paler yet. + +'When it makes its way into my mind, dear,' said Rachael, 'and it +will come sometimes, though I do all I can to keep it out, wi' +counting on to high numbers as I work, and saying over and over +again pieces that I knew when I were a child - I fall into such a +wild, hot hurry, that, however tired I am, I want to walk fast, +miles and miles. I must get the better of this before bed-time. +I'll walk home wi' you.' + +'He might fall ill upon the journey back,' said Sissy, faintly +offering a worn-out scrap of hope; 'and in such a case, there are +many places on the road where he might stop.' + +'But he is in none of them. He has been sought for in all, and +he's not there.' + +'True,' was Sissy's reluctant admission. + +'He'd walk the journey in two days. If he was footsore and +couldn't walk, I sent him, in the letter he got, the money to ride, +lest he should have none of his own to spare.' + +'Let us hope that to-morrow will bring something better, Rachael. +Come into the air!' + +Her gentle hand adjusted Rachael's shawl upon her shining black +hair in the usual manner of her wearing it, and they went out. The +night being fine, little knots of Hands were here and there +lingering at street corners; but it was supper-time with the +greater part of them, and there were but few people in the streets. + +'You're not so hurried now, Rachael, and your hand is cooler.' + +'I get better, dear, if I can only walk, and breathe a little +fresh. 'Times when I can't, I turn weak and confused.' + +'But you must not begin to fail, Rachael, for you may be wanted at +any time to stand by Stephen. To-morrow is Saturday. If no news +comes to-morrow, let us walk in the country on Sunday morning, and +strengthen you for another week. Will you go?' + +'Yes, dear.' + +They were by this time in the street where Mr. Bounderby's house +stood. The way to Sissy's destination led them past the door, and +they were going straight towards it. Some train had newly arrived +in Coketown, which had put a number of vehicles in motion, and +scattered a considerable bustle about the town. Several coaches +were rattling before them and behind them as they approached Mr. +Bounderby's, and one of the latter drew up with such briskness as +they were in the act of passing the house, that they looked round +involuntarily. The bright gaslight over Mr. Bounderby's steps +showed them Mrs. Sparsit in the coach, in an ecstasy of excitement, +struggling to open the door; Mrs. Sparsit seeing them at the same +moment, called to them to stop. + +'It's a coincidence,' exclaimed Mrs. Sparsit, as she was released +by the coachman. 'It's a Providence! Come out, ma'am!' then said +Mrs. Sparsit, to some one inside, 'come out, or we'll have you +dragged out!' + +Hereupon, no other than the mysterious old woman descended. Whom +Mrs. Sparsit incontinently collared. + +'Leave her alone, everybody!' cried Mrs. Sparsit, with great +energy. 'Let nobody touch her. She belongs to me. Come in, +ma'am!' then said Mrs. Sparsit, reversing her former word of +command. 'Come in, ma'am, or we'll have you dragged in!' + +The spectacle of a matron of classical deportment, seizing an +ancient woman by the throat, and hauling her into a dwelling-house, +would have been under any circumstances, sufficient temptation to +all true English stragglers so blest as to witness it, to force a +way into that dwelling-house and see the matter out. But when the +phenomenon was enhanced by the notoriety and mystery by this time +associated all over the town with the Bank robbery, it would have +lured the stragglers in, with an irresistible attraction, though +the roof had been expected to fall upon their heads. Accordingly, +the chance witnesses on the ground, consisting of the busiest of +the neighbours to the number of some five-and-twenty, closed in +after Sissy and Rachael, as they closed in after Mrs. Sparsit and +her prize; and the whole body made a disorderly irruption into Mr. +Bounderby's dining-room, where the people behind lost not a +moment's time in mounting on the chairs, to get the better of the +people in front. + +'Fetch Mr. Bounderby down!' cried Mrs. Sparsit. 'Rachael, young +woman; you know who this is?' + +'It's Mrs. Pegler,' said Rachael. + +'I should think it is!' cried Mrs. Sparsit, exulting. 'Fetch Mr. +Bounderby. Stand away, everybody!' Here old Mrs. Pegler, muffling +herself up, and shrinking from observation, whispered a word of +entreaty. 'Don't tell me,' said Mrs. Sparsit, aloud. 'I have told +you twenty times, coming along, that I will not leave you till I +have handed you over to him myself.' + +Mr. Bounderby now appeared, accompanied by Mr. Gradgrind and the +whelp, with whom he had been holding conference up-stairs. Mr. +Bounderby looked more astonished than hospitable, at sight of this +uninvited party in his dining-room. + +'Why, what's the matter now!' said he. 'Mrs. Sparsit, ma'am?' + +'Sir,' explained that worthy woman, 'I trust it is my good fortune +to produce a person you have much desired to find. Stimulated by +my wish to relieve your mind, sir, and connecting together such +imperfect clues to the part of the country in which that person +might be supposed to reside, as have been afforded by the young +woman, Rachael, fortunately now present to identify, I have had the +happiness to succeed, and to bring that person with me - I need not +say most unwillingly on her part. It has not been, sir, without +some trouble that I have effected this; but trouble in your service +is to me a pleasure, and hunger, thirst, and cold a real +gratification.' + +Here Mrs. Sparsit ceased; for Mr. Bounderby's visage exhibited an +extraordinary combination of all possible colours and expressions +of discomfiture, as old Mrs. Pegler was disclosed to his view. + +'Why, what do you mean by this?' was his highly unexpected demand, +in great warmth. 'I ask you, what do you mean by this, Mrs. +Sparsit, ma'am?' + +'Sir!' exclaimed Mrs. Sparsit, faintly. + +'Why don't you mind your own business, ma'am?' roared Bounderby. +'How dare you go and poke your officious nose into my family +affairs?' + +This allusion to her favourite feature overpowered Mrs. Sparsit. +She sat down stiffly in a chair, as if she were frozen; and with a +fixed stare at Mr. Bounderby, slowly grated her mittens against one +another, as if they were frozen too. + +'My dear Josiah!' cried Mrs. Pegler, trembling. 'My darling boy! +I am not to blame. It's not my fault, Josiah. I told this lady +over and over again, that I knew she was doing what would not be +agreeable to you, but she would do it.' + +'What did you let her bring you for? Couldn't you knock her cap +off, or her tooth out, or scratch her, or do something or other to +her?' asked Bounderby. + +'My own boy! She threatened me that if I resisted her, I should be +brought by constables, and it was better to come quietly than make +that stir in such a' - Mrs. Pegler glanced timidly but proudly +round the walls - 'such a fine house as this. Indeed, indeed, it +is not my fault! My dear, noble, stately boy! I have always lived +quiet, and secret, Josiah, my dear. I have never broken the +condition once. I have never said I was your mother. I have +admired you at a distance; and if I have come to town sometimes, +with long times between, to take a proud peep at you, I have done +it unbeknown, my love, and gone away again.' + +Mr. Bounderby, with his hands in his pockets, walked in impatient +mortification up and down at the side of the long dining-table, +while the spectators greedily took in every syllable of Mrs. +Pegler's appeal, and at each succeeding syllable became more and +more round-eyed. Mr. Bounderby still walking up and down when Mrs. +Pegler had done, Mr. Gradgrind addressed that maligned old lady: + +'I am surprised, madam,' he observed with severity, 'that in your +old age you have the face to claim Mr. Bounderby for your son, +after your unnatural and inhuman treatment of him.' + +'Me unnatural!' cried poor old Mrs. Pegler. 'Me inhuman! To my +dear boy?' + +'Dear!' repeated Mr. Gradgrind. 'Yes; dear in his self-made +prosperity, madam, I dare say. Not very dear, however, when you +deserted him in his infancy, and left him to the brutality of a +drunken grandmother.' + +'I deserted my Josiah!' cried Mrs. Pegler, clasping her hands. +'Now, Lord forgive you, sir, for your wicked imaginations, and for +your scandal against the memory of my poor mother, who died in my +arms before Josiah was born. May you repent of it, sir, and live +to know better!' + +She was so very earnest and injured, that Mr. Gradgrind, shocked by +the possibility which dawned upon him, said in a gentler tone: + +'Do you deny, then, madam, that you left your son to - to be +brought up in the gutter?' + +'Josiah in the gutter!' exclaimed Mrs. Pegler. 'No such a thing, +sir. Never! For shame on you! My dear boy knows, and will give +you to know, that though he come of humble parents, he come of +parents that loved him as dear as the best could, and never thought +it hardship on themselves to pinch a bit that he might write and +cipher beautiful, and I've his books at home to show it! Aye, have +I!' said Mrs. Pegler, with indignant pride. 'And my dear boy +knows, and will give you to know, sir, that after his beloved +father died, when he was eight years old, his mother, too, could +pinch a bit, as it was her duty and her pleasure and her pride to +do it, to help him out in life, and put him 'prentice. And a +steady lad he was, and a kind master he had to lend him a hand, and +well he worked his own way forward to be rich and thriving. And +I'll give you to know, sir - for this my dear boy won't - that +though his mother kept but a little village shop, he never forgot +her, but pensioned me on thirty pound a year - more than I want, +for I put by out of it - only making the condition that I was to +keep down in my own part, and make no boasts about him, and not +trouble him. And I never have, except with looking at him once a +year, when he has never knowed it. And it's right,' said poor old +Mrs. Pegler, in affectionate championship, 'that I should keep down +in my own part, and I have no doubts that if I was here I should do +a many unbefitting things, and I am well contented, and I can keep +my pride in my Josiah to myself, and I can love for love's own +sake! And I am ashamed of you, sir,' said Mrs. Pegler, lastly, +'for your slanders and suspicions. And I never stood here before, +nor never wanted to stand here when my dear son said no. And I +shouldn't be here now, if it hadn't been for being brought here. +And for shame upon you, Oh, for shame, to accuse me of being a bad +mother to my son, with my son standing here to tell you so +different!' + +The bystanders, on and off the dining-room chairs, raised a murmur +of sympathy with Mrs. Pegler, and Mr. Gradgrind felt himself +innocently placed in a very distressing predicament, when Mr. +Bounderby, who had never ceased walking up and down, and had every +moment swelled larger and larger, and grown redder and redder, +stopped short. + +'I don't exactly know,' said Mr. Bounderby, 'how I come to be +favoured with the attendance of the present company, but I don't +inquire. When they're quite satisfied, perhaps they'll be so good +as to disperse; whether they're satisfied or not, perhaps they'll +be so good as to disperse. I'm not bound to deliver a lecture on +my family affairs, I have not undertaken to do it, and I'm not a +going to do it. Therefore those who expect any explanation +whatever upon that branch of the subject, will be disappointed - +particularly Tom Gradgrind, and he can't know it too soon. In +reference to the Bank robbery, there has been a mistake made, +concerning my mother. If there hadn't been over-officiousness it +wouldn't have been made, and I hate over-officiousness at all +times, whether or no. Good evening!' + +Although Mr. Bounderby carried it off in these terms, holding the +door open for the company to depart, there was a blustering +sheepishness upon him, at once extremely crestfallen and +superlatively absurd. Detected as the Bully of humility, who had +built his windy reputation upon lies, and in his boastfulness had +put the honest truth as far away from him as if he had advanced the +mean claim (there is no meaner) to tack himself on to a pedigree, +he cut a most ridiculous figure. With the people filing off at the +door he held, who he knew would carry what had passed to the whole +town, to be given to the four winds, he could not have looked a +Bully more shorn and forlorn, if he had had his ears cropped. Even +that unlucky female, Mrs. Sparsit, fallen from her pinnacle of +exultation into the Slough of Despond, was not in so bad a plight +as that remarkable man and self-made Humbug, Josiah Bounderby of +Coketown. + +Rachael and Sissy, leaving Mrs. Pegler to occupy a bed at her son's +for that night, walked together to the gate of Stone Lodge and +there parted. Mr. Gradgrind joined them before they had gone very +far, and spoke with much interest of Stephen Blackpool; for whom he +thought this signal failure of the suspicions against Mrs. Pegler +was likely to work well. + +As to the whelp; throughout this scene as on all other late +occasions, he had stuck close to Bounderby. He seemed to feel that +as long as Bounderby could make no discovery without his knowledge, +he was so far safe. He never visited his sister, and had only seen +her once since she went home: that is to say on the night when he +still stuck close to Bounderby, as already related. + +There was one dim unformed fear lingering about his sister's mind, +to which she never gave utterance, which surrounded the graceless +and ungrateful boy with a dreadful mystery. The same dark +possibility had presented itself in the same shapeless guise, this +very day, to Sissy, when Rachael spoke of some one who would be +confounded by Stephen's return, having put him out of the way. +Louisa had never spoken of harbouring any suspicion of her brother +in connexion with the robbery, she and Sissy had held no confidence +on the subject, save in that one interchange of looks when the +unconscious father rested his gray head on his hand; but it was +understood between them, and they both knew it. This other fear +was so awful, that it hovered about each of them like a ghostly +shadow; neither daring to think of its being near herself, far less +of its being near the other. + +And still the forced spirit which the whelp had plucked up, throve +with him. If Stephen Blackpool was not the thief, let him show +himself. Why didn't he? + +Another night. Another day and night. No Stephen Blackpool. +Where was the man, and why did he not come back? + + + +CHAPTER VI - THE STARLIGHT + + + +THE Sunday was a bright Sunday in autumn, clear and cool, when +early in the morning Sissy and Rachael met, to walk in the country. + +As Coketown cast ashes not only on its own head but on the +neighbourhood's too - after the manner of those pious persons who +do penance for their own sins by putting other people into +sackcloth - it was customary for those who now and then thirsted +for a draught of pure air, which is not absolutely the most wicked +among the vanities of life, to get a few miles away by the +railroad, and then begin their walk, or their lounge in the fields. +Sissy and Rachael helped themselves out of the smoke by the usual +means, and were put down at a station about midway between the town +and Mr. Bounderby's retreat. + +Though the green landscape was blotted here and there with heaps of +coal, it was green elsewhere, and there were trees to see, and +there were larks singing (though it was Sunday), and there were +pleasant scents in the air, and all was over-arched by a bright +blue sky. In the distance one way, Coketown showed as a black +mist; in another distance hills began to rise; in a third, there +was a faint change in the light of the horizon where it shone upon +the far-off sea. Under their feet, the grass was fresh; beautiful +shadows of branches flickered upon it, and speckled it; hedgerows +were luxuriant; everything was at peace. Engines at pits' mouths, +and lean old horses that had worn the circle of their daily labour +into the ground, were alike quiet; wheels had ceased for a short +space to turn; and the great wheel of earth seemed to revolve +without the shocks and noises of another time. + +They walked on across the fields and down the shady lanes, +sometimes getting over a fragment of a fence so rotten that it +dropped at a touch of the foot, sometimes passing near a wreck of +bricks and beams overgrown with grass, marking the site of deserted +works. They followed paths and tracks, however slight. Mounds +where the grass was rank and high, and where brambles, dock-weed, +and such-like vegetation, were confusedly heaped together, they +always avoided; for dismal stories were told in that country of the +old pits hidden beneath such indications. + +The sun was high when they sat down to rest. They had seen no one, +near or distant, for a long time; and the solitude remained +unbroken. 'It is so still here, Rachael, and the way is so +untrodden, that I think we must be the first who have been here all +the summer.' + +As Sissy said it, her eyes were attracted by another of those +rotten fragments of fence upon the ground. She got up to look at +it. 'And yet I don't know. This has not been broken very long. +The wood is quite fresh where it gave way. Here are footsteps too. +- O Rachael!' + +She ran back, and caught her round the neck. Rachael had already +started up. + +'What is the matter?' + +'I don't know. There is a hat lying in the grass.' They went +forward together. Rachael took it up, shaking from head to foot. +She broke into a passion of tears and lamentations: Stephen +Blackpool was written in his own hand on the inside. + +'O the poor lad, the poor lad! He has been made away with. He is +lying murdered here!' + +'Is there - has the hat any blood upon it?' Sissy faltered. + +They were afraid to look; but they did examine it, and found no +mark of violence, inside or out. It had been lying there some +days, for rain and dew had stained it, and the mark of its shape +was on the grass where it had fallen. They looked fearfully about +them, without moving, but could see nothing more. 'Rachael,' Sissy +whispered, 'I will go on a little by myself.' + +She had unclasped her hand, and was in the act of stepping forward, +when Rachael caught her in both arms with a scream that resounded +over the wide landscape. Before them, at their very feet, was the +brink of a black ragged chasm hidden by the thick grass. They +sprang back, and fell upon their knees, each hiding her face upon +the other's neck. + +'O, my good Lord! He's down there! Down there!' At first this, +and her terrific screams, were all that could be got from Rachael, +by any tears, by any prayers, by any representations, by any means. +It was impossible to hush her; and it was deadly necessary to hold +her, or she would have flung herself down the shaft. + +'Rachael, dear Rachael, good Rachael, for the love of Heaven, not +these dreadful cries! Think of Stephen, think of Stephen, think of +Stephen!' + +By an earnest repetition of this entreaty, poured out in all the +agony of such a moment, Sissy at last brought her to be silent, and +to look at her with a tearless face of stone. + +'Rachael, Stephen may be living. You wouldn't leave him lying +maimed at the bottom of this dreadful place, a moment, if you could +bring help to him?' + +'No, no, no!' + +'Don't stir from here, for his sake! Let me go and listen.' + +She shuddered to approach the pit; but she crept towards it on her +hands and knees, and called to him as loud as she could call. She +listened, but no sound replied. She called again and listened; +still no answering sound. She did this, twenty, thirty times. She +took a little clod of earth from the broken ground where he had +stumbled, and threw it in. She could not hear it fall. + +The wide prospect, so beautiful in its stillness but a few minutes +ago, almost carried despair to her brave heart, as she rose and +looked all round her, seeing no help. 'Rachael, we must lose not a +moment. We must go in different directions, seeking aid. You +shall go by the way we have come, and I will go forward by the +path. Tell any one you see, and every one what has happened. +Think of Stephen, think of Stephen!' + +She knew by Rachael's face that she might trust her now. And after +standing for a moment to see her running, wringing her hands as she +ran, she turned and went upon her own search; she stopped at the +hedge to tie her shawl there as a guide to the place, then threw +her bonnet aside, and ran as she had never run before. + +Run, Sissy, run, in Heaven's name! Don't stop for breath. Run, +run! Quickening herself by carrying such entreaties in her +thoughts, she ran from field to field, and lane to lane, and place +to place, as she had never run before; until she came to a shed by +an engine-house, where two men lay in the shade, asleep on straw. + +First to wake them, and next to tell them, all so wild and +breathless as she was, what had brought her there, were +difficulties; but they no sooner understood her than their spirits +were on fire like hers. One of the men was in a drunken slumber, +but on his comrade's shouting to him that a man had fallen down the +Old Hell Shaft, he started out to a pool of dirty water, put his +head in it, and came back sober. + +With these two men she ran to another half-a-mile further, and with +that one to another, while they ran elsewhere. Then a horse was +found; and she got another man to ride for life or death to the +railroad, and send a message to Louisa, which she wrote and gave +him. By this time a whole village was up: and windlasses, ropes, +poles, candles, lanterns, all things necessary, were fast +collecting and being brought into one place, to be carried to the +Old Hell Shaft. + +It seemed now hours and hours since she had left the lost man lying +in the grave where he had been buried alive. She could not bear to +remain away from it any longer - it was like deserting him - and +she hurried swiftly back, accompanied by half-a-dozen labourers, +including the drunken man whom the news had sobered, and who was +the best man of all. When they came to the Old Hell Shaft, they +found it as lonely as she had left it. The men called and listened +as she had done, and examined the edge of the chasm, and settled +how it had happened, and then sat down to wait until the implements +they wanted should come up. + +Every sound of insects in the air, every stirring of the leaves, +every whisper among these men, made Sissy tremble, for she thought +it was a cry at the bottom of the pit. But the wind blew idly over +it, and no sound arose to the surface, and they sat upon the grass, +waiting and waiting. After they had waited some time, straggling +people who had heard of the accident began to come up; then the +real help of implements began to arrive. In the midst of this, +Rachael returned; and with her party there was a surgeon, who +brought some wine and medicines. But, the expectation among the +people that the man would be found alive was very slight indeed. + +There being now people enough present to impede the work, the +sobered man put himself at the head of the rest, or was put there +by the general consent, and made a large ring round the Old Hell +Shaft, and appointed men to keep it. Besides such volunteers as +were accepted to work, only Sissy and Rachael were at first +permitted within this ring; but, later in the day, when the message +brought an express from Coketown, Mr. Gradgrind and Louisa, and Mr. +Bounderby, and the whelp, were also there. + +The sun was four hours lower than when Sissy and Rachael had first +sat down upon the grass, before a means of enabling two men to +descend securely was rigged with poles and ropes. Difficulties had +arisen in the construction of this machine, simple as it was; +requisites had been found wanting, and messages had had to go and +return. It was five o'clock in the afternoon of the bright +autumnal Sunday, before a candle was sent down to try the air, +while three or four rough faces stood crowded close together, +attentively watching it: the man at the windlass lowering as they +were told. The candle was brought up again, feebly burning, and +then some water was cast in. Then the bucket was hooked on; and +the sobered man and another got in with lights, giving the word +'Lower away!' + +As the rope went out, tight and strained, and the windlass creaked, +there was not a breath among the one or two hundred men and women +looking on, that came as it was wont to come. The signal was given +and the windlass stopped, with abundant rope to spare. Apparently +so long an interval ensued with the men at the windlass standing +idle, that some women shrieked that another accident had happened! +But the surgeon who held the watch, declared five minutes not to +have elapsed yet, and sternly admonished them to keep silence. He +had not well done speaking, when the windlass was reversed and +worked again. Practised eyes knew that it did not go as heavily as +it would if both workmen had been coming up, and that only one was +returning. + +The rope came in tight and strained; and ring after ring was coiled +upon the barrel of the windlass, and all eyes were fastened on the +pit. The sobered man was brought up and leaped out briskly on the +grass. There was an universal cry of 'Alive or dead?' and then a +deep, profound hush. + +When he said 'Alive!' a great shout arose and many eyes had tears +in them. + +'But he's hurt very bad,' he added, as soon as he could make +himself heard again. 'Where's doctor? He's hurt so very bad, sir, +that we donno how to get him up.' + +They all consulted together, and looked anxiously at the surgeon, +as he asked some questions, and shook his head on receiving the +replies. The sun was setting now; and the red light in the evening +sky touched every face there, and caused it to be distinctly seen +in all its rapt suspense. + +The consultation ended in the men returning to the windlass, and +the pitman going down again, carrying the wine and some other small +matters with him. Then the other man came up. In the meantime, +under the surgeon's directions, some men brought a hurdle, on which +others made a thick bed of spare clothes covered with loose straw, +while he himself contrived some bandages and slings from shawls and +handkerchiefs. As these were made, they were hung upon an arm of +the pitman who had last come up, with instructions how to use them: +and as he stood, shown by the light he carried, leaning his +powerful loose hand upon one of the poles, and sometimes glancing +down the pit, and sometimes glancing round upon the people, he was +not the least conspicuous figure in the scene. It was dark now, +and torches were kindled. + +It appeared from the little this man said to those about him, which +was quickly repeated all over the circle, that the lost man had +fallen upon a mass of crumbled rubbish with which the pit was half +choked up, and that his fall had been further broken by some jagged +earth at the side. He lay upon his back with one arm doubled under +him, and according to his own belief had hardly stirred since he +fell, except that he had moved his free hand to a side pocket, in +which he remembered to have some bread and meat (of which he had +swallowed crumbs), and had likewise scooped up a little water in it +now and then. He had come straight away from his work, on being +written to, and had walked the whole journey; and was on his way to +Mr. Bounderby's country house after dark, when he fell. He was +crossing that dangerous country at such a dangerous time, because +he was innocent of what was laid to his charge, and couldn't rest +from coming the nearest way to deliver himself up. The Old Hell +Shaft, the pitman said, with a curse upon it, was worthy of its bad +name to the last; for though Stephen could speak now, he believed +it would soon be found to have mangled the life out of him. + +When all was ready, this man, still taking his last hurried charges +from his comrades and the surgeon after the windlass had begun to +lower him, disappeared into the pit. The rope went out as before, +the signal was made as before, and the windlass stopped. No man +removed his hand from it now. Every one waited with his grasp set, +and his body bent down to the work, ready to reverse and wind in. +At length the signal was given, and all the ring leaned forward. + +For, now, the rope came in, tightened and strained to its utmost as +it appeared, and the men turned heavily, and the windlass +complained. It was scarcely endurable to look at the rope, and +think of its giving way. But, ring after ring was coiled upon the +barrel of the windlass safely, and the connecting chains appeared, +and finally the bucket with the two men holding on at the sides - a +sight to make the head swim, and oppress the heart - and tenderly +supporting between them, slung and tied within, the figure of a +poor, crushed, human creature. + +A low murmur of pity went round the throng, and the women wept +aloud, as this form, almost without form, was moved very slowly +from its iron deliverance, and laid upon the bed of straw. At +first, none but the surgeon went close to it. He did what he could +in its adjustment on the couch, but the best that he could do was +to cover it. That gently done, he called to him Rachael and Sissy. +And at that time the pale, worn, patient face was seen looking up +at the sky, with the broken right hand lying bare on the outside of +the covering garments, as if waiting to be taken by another hand. + +They gave him drink, moistened his face with water, and +administered some drops of cordial and wine. Though he lay quite +motionless looking up at the sky, he smiled and said, 'Rachael.' +She stooped down on the grass at his side, and bent over him until +her eyes were between his and the sky, for he could not so much as +turn them to look at her. + +'Rachael, my dear.' + +She took his hand. He smiled again and said, 'Don't let 't go.' + +'Thou'rt in great pain, my own dear Stephen?' + +'I ha' been, but not now. I ha' been - dreadful, and dree, and +long, my dear - but 'tis ower now. Ah, Rachael, aw a muddle! Fro' +first to last, a muddle!' + +The spectre of his old look seemed to pass as he said the word. + +'I ha' fell into th' pit, my dear, as have cost wi'in the knowledge +o' old fok now livin, hundreds and hundreds o' men's lives - +fathers, sons, brothers, dear to thousands an' thousands, an' +keeping 'em fro' want and hunger. I ha' fell into a pit that ha' +been wi' th' Firedamp crueller than battle. I ha' read on 't in +the public petition, as onny one may read, fro' the men that works +in pits, in which they ha' pray'n and pray'n the lawmakers for +Christ's sake not to let their work be murder to 'em, but to spare +'em for th' wives and children that they loves as well as gentlefok +loves theirs. When it were in work, it killed wi'out need; when +'tis let alone, it kills wi'out need. See how we die an' no need, +one way an' another - in a muddle - every day!' + +He faintly said it, without any anger against any one. Merely as +the truth. + +'Thy little sister, Rachael, thou hast not forgot her. Thou'rt not +like to forget her now, and me so nigh her. Thou know'st - poor, +patient, suff'rin, dear - how thou didst work for her, seet'n all +day long in her little chair at thy winder, and how she died, young +and misshapen, awlung o' sickly air as had'n no need to be, an' +awlung o' working people's miserable homes. A muddle! Aw a +muddle!' + +Louisa approached him; but he could not see her, lying with his +face turned up to the night sky. + +'If aw th' things that tooches us, my dear, was not so muddled, I +should'n ha' had'n need to coom heer. If we was not in a muddle +among ourseln, I should'n ha' been, by my own fellow weavers and +workin' brothers, so mistook. If Mr. Bounderby had ever know'd me +right - if he'd ever know'd me at aw - he would'n ha' took'n +offence wi' me. He would'n ha' suspect'n me. But look up yonder, +Rachael! Look aboove!' + +Following his eyes, she saw that he was gazing at a star. + +'It ha' shined upon me,' he said reverently, 'in my pain and +trouble down below. It ha' shined into my mind. I ha' look'n at +'t and thowt o' thee, Rachael, till the muddle in my mind have +cleared awa, above a bit, I hope. If soom ha' been wantin' in +unnerstan'in me better, I, too, ha' been wantin' in unnerstan'in +them better. When I got thy letter, I easily believen that what +the yoong ledy sen and done to me, and what her brother sen and +done to me, was one, and that there were a wicked plot betwixt 'em. +When I fell, I were in anger wi' her, an' hurryin on t' be as +onjust t' her as oothers was t' me. But in our judgments, like as +in our doins, we mun bear and forbear. In my pain an' trouble, +lookin up yonder, - wi' it shinin on me - I ha' seen more clear, +and ha' made it my dyin prayer that aw th' world may on'y coom +toogether more, an' get a better unnerstan'in o' one another, than +when I were in 't my own weak seln.' + +Louisa hearing what he said, bent over him on the opposite side to +Rachael, so that he could see her. + +'You ha' heard?' he said, after a few moments' silence. 'I ha' not +forgot you, ledy.' + +'Yes, Stephen, I have heard you. And your prayer is mine.' + +'You ha' a father. Will yo tak' a message to him?' + +'He is here,' said Louisa, with dread. 'Shall I bring him to you?' + +'If yo please.' + +Louisa returned with her father. Standing hand-in-hand, they both +looked down upon the solemn countenance. + +'Sir, yo will clear me an' mak my name good wi' aw men. This I +leave to yo.' + +Mr. Gradgrind was troubled and asked how? + +'Sir,' was the reply: 'yor son will tell yo how. Ask him. I mak +no charges: I leave none ahint me: not a single word. I ha' seen +an' spok'n wi' yor son, one night. I ask no more o' yo than that +yo clear me - an' I trust to yo to do 't.' + +The bearers being now ready to carry him away, and the surgeon +being anxious for his removal, those who had torches or lanterns, +prepared to go in front of the litter. Before it was raised, and +while they were arranging how to go, he said to Rachael, looking +upward at the star: + +'Often as I coom to myseln, and found it shinin' on me down there +in my trouble, I thowt it were the star as guided to Our Saviour's +home. I awmust think it be the very star!' + +They lifted him up, and he was overjoyed to find that they were +about to take him in the direction whither the star seemed to him +to lead. + +'Rachael, beloved lass! Don't let go my hand. We may walk +toogether t'night, my dear!' + +'I will hold thy hand, and keep beside thee, Stephen, all the way.' + +'Bless thee! Will soombody be pleased to coover my face!' + +They carried him very gently along the fields, and down the lanes, +and over the wide landscape; Rachael always holding the hand in +hers. Very few whispers broke the mournful silence. It was soon a +funeral procession. The star had shown him where to find the God +of the poor; and through humility, and sorrow, and forgiveness, he +had gone to his Redeemer's rest. + + + +CHAPTER VII - WHELP-HUNTING + + + +BEFORE the ring formed round the Old Hell Shaft was broken, one +figure had disappeared from within it. Mr. Bounderby and his +shadow had not stood near Louisa, who held her father's arm, but in +a retired place by themselves. When Mr. Gradgrind was summoned to +the couch, Sissy, attentive to all that happened, slipped behind +that wicked shadow - a sight in the horror of his face, if there +had been eyes there for any sight but one - and whispered in his +ear. Without turning his head, he conferred with her a few +moments, and vanished. Thus the whelp had gone out of the circle +before the people moved. + +When the father reached home, he sent a message to Mr. Bounderby's, +desiring his son to come to him directly. The reply was, that Mr. +Bounderby having missed him in the crowd, and seeing nothing of him +since, had supposed him to be at Stone Lodge. + +'I believe, father,' said Louisa, 'he will not come back to town +to-night.' Mr. Gradgrind turned away, and said no more. + +In the morning, he went down to the Bank himself as soon as it was +opened, and seeing his son's place empty (he had not the courage to +look in at first) went back along the street to meet Mr. Bounderby +on his way there. To whom he said that, for reasons he would soon +explain, but entreated not then to be asked for, he had found it +necessary to employ his son at a distance for a little while. +Also, that he was charged with the duty of vindicating Stephen +Blackpool's memory, and declaring the thief. Mr. Bounderby quite +confounded, stood stock-still in the street after his father-in-law +had left him, swelling like an immense soap-bubble, without its +beauty. + +Mr. Gradgrind went home, locked himself in his room, and kept it +all that day. When Sissy and Louisa tapped at his door, he said, +without opening it, 'Not now, my dears; in the evening.' On their +return in the evening, he said, 'I am not able yet - to-morrow.' +He ate nothing all day, and had no candle after dark; and they +heard him walking to and fro late at night. + +But, in the morning he appeared at breakfast at the usual hour, and +took his usual place at the table. Aged and bent he looked, and +quite bowed down; and yet he looked a wiser man, and a better man, +than in the days when in this life he wanted nothing - but Facts. +Before he left the room, he appointed a time for them to come to +him; and so, with his gray head drooping, went away. + +'Dear father,' said Louisa, when they kept their appointment, 'you +have three young children left. They will be different, I will be +different yet, with Heaven's help.' + +She gave her hand to Sissy, as if she meant with her help too. + +'Your wretched brother,' said Mr. Gradgrind. 'Do you think he had +planned this robbery, when he went with you to the lodging?' + +'I fear so, father. I know he had wanted money very much, and had +spent a great deal.' + +'The poor man being about to leave the town, it came into his evil +brain to cast suspicion on him?' + +'I think it must have flashed upon him while he sat there, father. +For I asked him to go there with me. The visit did not originate +with him.' + +'He had some conversation with the poor man. Did he take him +aside?' + +'He took him out of the room. I asked him afterwards, why he had +done so, and he made a plausible excuse; but since last night, +father, and when I remember the circumstances by its light, I am +afraid I can imagine too truly what passed between them.' + +'Let me know,' said her father, 'if your thoughts present your +guilty brother in the same dark view as mine.' + +'I fear, father,' hesitated Louisa, 'that he must have made some +representation to Stephen Blackpool - perhaps in my name, perhaps +in his own - which induced him to do in good faith and honesty, +what he had never done before, and to wait about the Bank those two +or three nights before he left the town.' + +'Too plain!' returned the father. 'Too plain!' + +He shaded his face, and remained silent for some moments. +Recovering himself, he said: + +'And now, how is he to be found? How is he to be saved from +justice? In the few hours that I can possibly allow to elapse +before I publish the truth, how is he to be found by us, and only +by us? Ten thousand pounds could not effect it.' + +'Sissy has effected it, father.' + +He raised his eyes to where she stood, like a good fairy in his +house, and said in a tone of softened gratitude and grateful +kindness, 'It is always you, my child!' + +'We had our fears,' Sissy explained, glancing at Louisa, 'before +yesterday; and when I saw you brought to the side of the litter +last night, and heard what passed (being close to Rachael all the +time), I went to him when no one saw, and said to him, "Don't look +at me. See where your father is. Escape at once, for his sake and +your own!" He was in a tremble before I whispered to him, and he +started and trembled more then, and said, "Where can I go? I have +very little money, and I don't know who will hide me!" I thought +of father's old circus. I have not forgotten where Mr. Sleary goes +at this time of year, and I read of him in a paper only the other +day. I told him to hurry there, and tell his name, and ask Mr. +Sleary to hide him till I came. "I'll get to him before the +morning," he said. And I saw him shrink away among the people.' + +'Thank Heaven!' exclaimed his father. 'He may be got abroad yet.' + +It was the more hopeful as the town to which Sissy had directed him +was within three hours' journey of Liverpool, whence he could be +swiftly dispatched to any part of the world. But, caution being +necessary in communicating with him - for there was a greater +danger every moment of his being suspected now, and nobody could be +sure at heart but that Mr. Bounderby himself, in a bullying vein of +public zeal, might play a Roman part - it was consented that Sissy +and Louisa should repair to the place in question, by a circuitous +course, alone; and that the unhappy father, setting forth in an +opposite direction, should get round to the same bourne by another +and wider route. It was further agreed that he should not present +himself to Mr. Sleary, lest his intentions should be mistrusted, or +the intelligence of his arrival should cause his son to take flight +anew; but, that the communication should be left to Sissy and +Louisa to open; and that they should inform the cause of so much +misery and disgrace, of his father's being at hand and of the +purpose for which they had come. When these arrangements had been +well considered and were fully understood by all three, it was time +to begin to carry them into execution. Early in the afternoon, Mr. +Gradgrind walked direct from his own house into the country, to be +taken up on the line by which he was to travel; and at night the +remaining two set forth upon their different course, encouraged by +not seeing any face they knew. + +The two travelled all night, except when they were left, for odd +numbers of minutes, at branch-places, up illimitable flights of +steps, or down wells - which was the only variety of those branches +- and, early in the morning, were turned out on a swamp, a mile or +two from the town they sought. From this dismal spot they were +rescued by a savage old postilion, who happened to be up early, +kicking a horse in a fly: and so were smuggled into the town by +all the back lanes where the pigs lived: which, although not a +magnificent or even savoury approach, was, as is usual in such +cases, the legitimate highway. + +The first thing they saw on entering the town was the skeleton of +Sleary's Circus. The company had departed for another town more +than twenty miles off, and had opened there last night. The +connection between the two places was by a hilly turnpike-road, and +the travelling on that road was very slow. Though they took but a +hasty breakfast, and no rest (which it would have been in vain to +seek under such anxious circumstances), it was noon before they +began to find the bills of Sleary's Horse-riding on barns and +walls, and one o'clock when they stopped in the market-place. + +A Grand Morning Performance by the Riders, commencing at that very +hour, was in course of announcement by the bellman as they set +their feet upon the stones of the street. Sissy recommended that, +to avoid making inquiries and attracting attention in the town, +they should present themselves to pay at the door. If Mr. Sleary +were taking the money, he would be sure to know her, and would +proceed with discretion. If he were not, he would be sure to see +them inside; and, knowing what he had done with the fugitive, would +proceed with discretion still. + +Therefore, they repaired, with fluttering hearts, to the well- +remembered booth. The flag with the inscription SLEARY'S HORSE- +RIDING was there; and the Gothic niche was there; but Mr. Sleary +was not there. Master Kidderminster, grown too maturely turfy to +be received by the wildest credulity as Cupid any more, had yielded +to the invincible force of circumstances (and his beard), and, in +the capacity of a man who made himself generally useful, presided +on this occasion over the exchequer - having also a drum in +reserve, on which to expend his leisure moments and superfluous +forces. In the extreme sharpness of his look out for base coin, +Mr. Kidderminster, as at present situated, never saw anything but +money; so Sissy passed him unrecognised, and they went in. + +The Emperor of Japan, on a steady old white horse stencilled with +black spots, was twirling five wash-hand basins at once, as it is +the favourite recreation of that monarch to do. Sissy, though well +acquainted with his Royal line, had no personal knowledge of the +present Emperor, and his reign was peaceful. Miss Josephine +Sleary, in her celebrated graceful Equestrian Tyrolean Flower Act, +was then announced by a new clown (who humorously said Cauliflower +Act), and Mr. Sleary appeared, leading her in. + +Mr. Sleary had only made one cut at the Clown with his long whip- +lash, and the Clown had only said, 'If you do it again, I'll throw +the horse at you!' when Sissy was recognised both by father and +daughter. But they got through the Act with great self-possession; +and Mr. Sleary, saving for the first instant, conveyed no more +expression into his locomotive eye than into his fixed one. The +performance seemed a little long to Sissy and Louisa, particularly +when it stopped to afford the Clown an opportunity of telling Mr. +Sleary (who said 'Indeed, sir!' to all his observations in the +calmest way, and with his eye on the house) about two legs sitting +on three legs looking at one leg, when in came four legs, and laid +hold of one leg, and up got two legs, caught hold of three legs, +and threw 'em at four legs, who ran away with one leg. For, +although an ingenious Allegory relating to a butcher, a three- +legged stool, a dog, and a leg of mutton, this narrative consumed +time; and they were in great suspense. At last, however, little +fair-haired Josephine made her curtsey amid great applause; and the +Clown, left alone in the ring, had just warmed himself, and said, +'Now I'll have a turn!' when Sissy was touched on the shoulder, and +beckoned out. + +She took Louisa with her; and they were received by Mr. Sleary in a +very little private apartment, with canvas sides, a grass floor, +and a wooden ceiling all aslant, on which the box company stamped +their approbation, as if they were coming through. 'Thethilia,' +said Mr. Sleary, who had brandy and water at hand, 'it doth me good +to thee you. You wath alwayth a favourite with uth, and you've +done uth credith thinth the old timeth I'm thure. You mutht thee +our people, my dear, afore we thpeak of bithnith, or they'll break +their hearth - ethpethially the women. Here'th Jothphine hath been +and got married to E. W. B. Childerth, and thee hath got a boy, and +though he'th only three yearth old, he thtickth on to any pony you +can bring againtht him. He'th named The Little Wonder of +Thcolathtic Equitation; and if you don't hear of that boy at +Athley'th, you'll hear of him at Parith. And you recollect +Kidderminthter, that wath thought to be rather thweet upon +yourthelf? Well. He'th married too. Married a widder. Old +enough to be hith mother. Thee wath Tightrope, thee wath, and now +thee'th nothing - on accounth of fat. They've got two children, +tho we're thtrong in the Fairy bithnith and the Nurthery dodge. If +you wath to thee our Children in the Wood, with their father and +mother both a dyin' on a horthe - their uncle a retheiving of 'em +ath hith wardth, upon a horthe - themthelvth both a goin' a black- +berryin' on a horthe - and the Robinth a coming in to cover 'em +with leavth, upon a horthe - you'd thay it wath the completetht +thing ath ever you thet your eyeth on! And you remember Emma +Gordon, my dear, ath wath a'motht a mother to you? Of courthe you +do; I needn't athk. Well! Emma, thee lotht her huthband. He wath +throw'd a heavy back-fall off a Elephant in a thort of a Pagoda +thing ath the Thultan of the Indieth, and he never got the better +of it; and thee married a thecond time - married a Cheethemonger +ath fell in love with her from the front - and he'th a Overtheer +and makin' a fortun.' + +These various changes, Mr. Sleary, very short of breath now, +related with great heartiness, and with a wonderful kind of +innocence, considering what a bleary and brandy-and-watery old +veteran he was. Afterwards he brought in Josephine, and E. W. B. +Childers (rather deeply lined in the jaws by daylight), and the +Little Wonder of Scholastic Equitation, and in a word, all the +company. Amazing creatures they were in Louisa's eyes, so white +and pink of complexion, so scant of dress, and so demonstrative of +leg; but it was very agreeable to see them crowding about Sissy, +and very natural in Sissy to be unable to refrain from tears. + +'There! Now Thethilia hath kithd all the children, and hugged all +the women, and thaken handth all round with all the men, clear, +every one of you, and ring in the band for the thecond part!' + +As soon as they were gone, he continued in a low tone. 'Now, +Thethilia, I don't athk to know any thecreth, but I thuppothe I may +conthider thith to be Mith Thquire.' + +'This is his sister. Yes.' + +'And t'other on'th daughter. That'h what I mean. Hope I thee you +well, mith. And I hope the Thquire'th well?' + +'My father will be here soon,' said Louisa, anxious to bring him to +the point. 'Is my brother safe?' + +'Thafe and thound!' he replied. 'I want you jutht to take a peep +at the Ring, mith, through here. Thethilia, you know the dodgeth; +find a thpy-hole for yourthelf.' + +They each looked through a chink in the boards. + +'That'h Jack the Giant Killer - piethe of comic infant bithnith,' +said Sleary. 'There'th a property-houthe, you thee, for Jack to +hide in; there'th my Clown with a thauthepan-lid and a thpit, for +Jack'th thervant; there'th little Jack himthelf in a thplendid +thoot of armour; there'th two comic black thervanth twithe ath big +ath the houthe, to thtand by it and to bring it in and clear it; +and the Giant (a very ecthpenthive bathket one), he an't on yet. +Now, do you thee 'em all?' + +'Yes,' they both said. + +'Look at 'em again,' said Sleary, 'look at 'em well. You thee em +all? Very good. Now, mith;' he put a form for them to sit on; 'I +have my opinionth, and the Thquire your father hath hith. I don't +want to know what your brother'th been up to; ith better for me not +to know. All I thay ith, the Thquire hath thtood by Thethilia, and +I'll thtand by the Thquire. Your brother ith one them black +thervanth.' + +Louisa uttered an exclamation, partly of distress, partly of +satisfaction. + +'Ith a fact,' said Sleary, 'and even knowin' it, you couldn't put +your finger on him. Let the Thquire come. I thall keep your +brother here after the performanth. I thant undreth him, nor yet +wath hith paint off. Let the Thquire come here after the +performanth, or come here yourthelf after the performanth, and you +thall find your brother, and have the whole plathe to talk to him +in. Never mind the lookth of him, ath long ath he'th well hid.' + +Louisa, with many thanks and with a lightened load, detained Mr. +Sleary no longer then. She left her love for her brother, with her +eyes full of tears; and she and Sissy went away until later in the +afternoon. + +Mr. Gradgrind arrived within an hour afterwards. He too had +encountered no one whom he knew; and was now sanguine with Sleary's +assistance, of getting his disgraced son to Liverpool in the night. +As neither of the three could be his companion without almost +identifying him under any disguise, he prepared a letter to a +correspondent whom he could trust, beseeching him to ship the +bearer off at any cost, to North or South America, or any distant +part of the world to which he could be the most speedily and +privately dispatched. + +This done, they walked about, waiting for the Circus to be quite +vacated; not only by the audience, but by the company and by the +horses. After watching it a long time, they saw Mr. Sleary bring +out a chair and sit down by the side-door, smoking; as if that were +his signal that they might approach. + +'Your thervant, Thquire,' was his cautious salutation as they +passed in. 'If you want me you'll find me here. You muthn't mind +your thon having a comic livery on.' + +They all three went in; and Mr. Gradgrind sat down forlorn, on the +Clown's performing chair in the middle of the ring. On one of the +back benches, remote in the subdued light and the strangeness of +the place, sat the villainous whelp, sulky to the last, whom he had +the misery to call his son. + +In a preposterous coat, like a beadle's, with cuffs and flaps +exaggerated to an unspeakable extent; in an immense waistcoat, +knee-breeches, buckled shoes, and a mad cocked hat; with nothing +fitting him, and everything of coarse material, moth-eaten and full +of holes; with seams in his black face, where fear and heat had +started through the greasy composition daubed all over it; anything +so grimly, detestably, ridiculously shameful as the whelp in his +comic livery, Mr. Gradgrind never could by any other means have +believed in, weighable and measurable fact though it was. And one +of his model children had come to this! + +At first the whelp would not draw any nearer, but persisted in +remaining up there by himself. Yielding at length, if any +concession so sullenly made can be called yielding, to the +entreaties of Sissy - for Louisa he disowned altogether - he came +down, bench by bench, until he stood in the sawdust, on the verge +of the circle, as far as possible, within its limits from where his +father sat. + +'How was this done?' asked the father. + +'How was what done?' moodily answered the son. + +'This robbery,' said the father, raising his voice upon the word. + +'I forced the safe myself over night, and shut it up ajar before I +went away. I had had the key that was found, made long before. I +dropped it that morning, that it might be supposed to have been +used. I didn't take the money all at once. I pretended to put my +balance away every night, but I didn't. Now you know all about +it.' + +'If a thunderbolt had fallen on me,' said the father, 'it would +have shocked me less than this!' + +'I don't see why,' grumbled the son. 'So many people are employed +in situations of trust; so many people, out of so many, will be +dishonest. I have heard you talk, a hundred times, of its being a +law. How can I help laws? You have comforted others with such +things, father. Comfort yourself!' + +The father buried his face in his hands, and the son stood in his +disgraceful grotesqueness, biting straw: his hands, with the black +partly worn away inside, looking like the hands of a monkey. The +evening was fast closing in; and from time to time, he turned the +whites of his eyes restlessly and impatiently towards his father. +They were the only parts of his face that showed any life or +expression, the pigment upon it was so thick. + +'You must be got to Liverpool, and sent abroad.' + +'I suppose I must. I can't be more miserable anywhere,' whimpered +the whelp, 'than I have been here, ever since I can remember. +That's one thing.' + +Mr. Gradgrind went to the door, and returned with Sleary, to whom +he submitted the question, How to get this deplorable object away? + +'Why, I've been thinking of it, Thquire. There'th not muth time to +lothe, tho you muth thay yeth or no. Ith over twenty mileth to the +rail. There'th a coath in half an hour, that goeth to the rail, +'purpothe to cath the mail train. That train will take him right +to Liverpool.' + +'But look at him,' groaned Mr. Gradgrind. 'Will any coach - ' + +'I don't mean that he thould go in the comic livery,' said Sleary. +'Thay the word, and I'll make a Jothkin of him, out of the +wardrobe, in five minutes.' + +'I don't understand,' said Mr. Gradgrind. + +'A Jothkin - a Carter. Make up your mind quick, Thquire. There'll +be beer to feth. I've never met with nothing but beer ath'll ever +clean a comic blackamoor.' + +Mr. Gradgrind rapidly assented; Mr. Sleary rapidly turned out from +a box, a smock frock, a felt hat, and other essentials; the whelp +rapidly changed clothes behind a screen of baize; Mr. Sleary +rapidly brought beer, and washed him white again. + +'Now,' said Sleary, 'come along to the coath, and jump up behind; +I'll go with you there, and they'll thuppothe you one of my people. +Thay farewell to your family, and tharp'th the word.' With which +he delicately retired. + +'Here is your letter,' said Mr. Gradgrind. 'All necessary means +will be provided for you. Atone, by repentance and better conduct, +for the shocking action you have committed, and the dreadful +consequences to which it has led. Give me your hand, my poor boy, +and may God forgive you as I do!' + +The culprit was moved to a few abject tears by these words and +their pathetic tone. But, when Louisa opened her arms, he repulsed +her afresh. + +'Not you. I don't want to have anything to say to you!' + +'O Tom, Tom, do we end so, after all my love!' + +'After all your love!' he returned, obdurately. 'Pretty love! +Leaving old Bounderby to himself, and packing my best friend Mr. +Harthouse off, and going home just when I was in the greatest +danger. Pretty love that! Coming out with every word about our +having gone to that place, when you saw the net was gathering round +me. Pretty love that! You have regularly given me up. You never +cared for me.' + +'Tharp'th the word!' said Sleary, at the door. + +They all confusedly went out: Louisa crying to him that she +forgave him, and loved him still, and that he would one day be +sorry to have left her so, and glad to think of these her last +words, far away: when some one ran against them. Mr. Gradgrind +and Sissy, who were both before him while his sister yet clung to +his shoulder, stopped and recoiled. + +For, there was Bitzer, out of breath, his thin lips parted, his +thin nostrils distended, his white eyelashes quivering, his +colourless face more colourless than ever, as if he ran himself +into a white heat, when other people ran themselves into a glow. +There he stood, panting and heaving, as if he had never stopped +since the night, now long ago, when he had run them down before. + +'I'm sorry to interfere with your plans,' said Bitzer, shaking his +head, 'but I can't allow myself to be done by horse-riders. I must +have young Mr. Tom; he mustn't be got away by horse-riders; here he +is in a smock frock, and I must have him!' + +By the collar, too, it seemed. For, so he took possession of him. + + + +CHAPTER VIII - PHILOSOPHICAL + + + +THEY went back into the booth, Sleary shutting the door to keep +intruders out. Bitzer, still holding the paralysed culprit by the +collar, stood in the Ring, blinking at his old patron through the +darkness of the twilight. + +'Bitzer,' said Mr. Gradgrind, broken down, and miserably submissive +to him, 'have you a heart?' + +'The circulation, sir,' returned Bitzer, smiling at the oddity of +the question, 'couldn't be carried on without one. No man, sir, +acquainted with the facts established by Harvey relating to the +circulation of the blood, can doubt that I have a heart.' + +'Is it accessible,' cried Mr. Gradgrind, 'to any compassionate +influence?' + +'It is accessible to Reason, sir,' returned the excellent young +man. 'And to nothing else.' + +They stood looking at each other; Mr. Gradgrind's face as white as +the pursuer's. + +'What motive - even what motive in reason - can you have for +preventing the escape of this wretched youth,' said Mr. Gradgrind, +'and crushing his miserable father? See his sister here. Pity +us!' + +'Sir,' returned Bitzer, in a very business-like and logical manner, +'since you ask me what motive I have in reason, for taking young +Mr. Tom back to Coketown, it is only reasonable to let you know. I +have suspected young Mr. Tom of this bank-robbery from the first. +I had had my eye upon him before that time, for I knew his ways. I +have kept my observations to myself, but I have made them; and I +have got ample proofs against him now, besides his running away, +and besides his own confession, which I was just in time to +overhear. I had the pleasure of watching your house yesterday +morning, and following you here. I am going to take young Mr. Tom +back to Coketown, in order to deliver him over to Mr. Bounderby. +Sir, I have no doubt whatever that Mr. Bounderby will then promote +me to young Mr. Tom's situation. And I wish to have his situation, +sir, for it will be a rise to me, and will do me good.' + +'If this is solely a question of self-interest with you - ' Mr. +Gradgrind began. + +'I beg your pardon for interrupting you, sir,' returned Bitzer; +'but I am sure you know that the whole social system is a question +of self-interest. What you must always appeal to, is a person's +self-interest. It's your only hold. We are so constituted. I was +brought up in that catechism when I was very young, sir, as you are +aware.' + +'What sum of money,' said Mr. Gradgrind, 'will you set against your +expected promotion?' + +'Thank you, sir,' returned Bitzer, 'for hinting at the proposal; +but I will not set any sum against it. Knowing that your clear +head would propose that alternative, I have gone over the +calculations in my mind; and I find that to compound a felony, even +on very high terms indeed, would not be as safe and good for me as +my improved prospects in the Bank.' + +'Bitzer,' said Mr. Gradgrind, stretching out his hands as though he +would have said, See how miserable I am! 'Bitzer, I have but one +chance left to soften you. You were many years at my school. If, +in remembrance of the pains bestowed upon you there, you can +persuade yourself in any degree to disregard your present interest +and release my son, I entreat and pray you to give him the benefit +of that remembrance.' + +'I really wonder, sir,' rejoined the old pupil in an argumentative +manner, 'to find you taking a position so untenable. My schooling +was paid for; it was a bargain; and when I came away, the bargain +ended.' + +It was a fundamental principle of the Gradgrind philosophy that +everything was to be paid for. Nobody was ever on any account to +give anybody anything, or render anybody help without purchase. +Gratitude was to be abolished, and the virtues springing from it +were not to be. Every inch of the existence of mankind, from birth +to death, was to be a bargain across a counter. And if we didn't +get to Heaven that way, it was not a politico-economical place, and +we had no business there. + +'I don't deny,' added Bitzer, 'that my schooling was cheap. But +that comes right, sir. I was made in the cheapest market, and have +to dispose of myself in the dearest.' + +He was a little troubled here, by Louisa and Sissy crying. + +'Pray don't do that,' said he, 'it's of no use doing that: it only +worries. You seem to think that I have some animosity against +young Mr. Tom; whereas I have none at all. I am only going, on the +reasonable grounds I have mentioned, to take him back to Coketown. +If he was to resist, I should set up the cry of Stop thief! But, +he won't resist, you may depend upon it.' + +Mr. Sleary, who with his mouth open and his rolling eye as +immovably jammed in his head as his fixed one, had listened to +these doctrines with profound attention, here stepped forward. + +'Thquire, you know perfectly well, and your daughter knowth +perfectly well (better than you, becauthe I thed it to her), that I +didn't know what your thon had done, and that I didn't want to know +- I thed it wath better not, though I only thought, then, it wath +thome thkylarking. However, thith young man having made it known +to be a robbery of a bank, why, that'h a theriouth thing; muth too +theriouth a thing for me to compound, ath thith young man hath very +properly called it. Conthequently, Thquire, you muthn't quarrel +with me if I take thith young man'th thide, and thay he'th right +and there'th no help for it. But I tell you what I'll do, Thquire; +I'll drive your thon and thith young man over to the rail, and +prevent expothure here. I can't conthent to do more, but I'll do +that.' + +Fresh lamentations from Louisa, and deeper affliction on Mr. +Gradgrind's part, followed this desertion of them by their last +friend. But, Sissy glanced at him with great attention; nor did +she in her own breast misunderstand him. As they were all going +out again, he favoured her with one slight roll of his movable eye, +desiring her to linger behind. As he locked the door, he said +excitedly: + +'The Thquire thtood by you, Thethilia, and I'll thtand by the +Thquire. More than that: thith ith a prethiouth rathcal, and +belongth to that bluthtering Cove that my people nearly pitht out +o' winder. It'll be a dark night; I've got a horthe that'll do +anything but thpeak; I've got a pony that'll go fifteen mile an +hour with Childerth driving of him; I've got a dog that'll keep a +man to one plathe four-and-twenty hourth. Get a word with the +young Thquire. Tell him, when he theeth our horthe begin to +danthe, not to be afraid of being thpilt, but to look out for a +pony-gig coming up. Tell him, when he theeth that gig clothe by, +to jump down, and it'll take him off at a rattling pathe. If my +dog leth thith young man thtir a peg on foot, I give him leave to +go. And if my horthe ever thtirth from that thpot where he beginth +a danthing, till the morning - I don't know him? - Tharp'th the +word!' + +The word was so sharp, that in ten minutes Mr. Childers, sauntering +about the market-place in a pair of slippers, had his cue, and Mr. +Sleary's equipage was ready. It was a fine sight, to behold the +learned dog barking round it, and Mr. Sleary instructing him, with +his one practicable eye, that Bitzer was the object of his +particular attentions. Soon after dark they all three got in and +started; the learned dog (a formidable creature) already pinning +Bitzer with his eye, and sticking close to the wheel on his side, +that he might be ready for him in the event of his showing the +slightest disposition to alight. + +The other three sat up at the inn all night in great suspense. At +eight o'clock in the morning Mr. Sleary and the dog reappeared: +both in high spirits. + +'All right, Thquire!' said Mr. Sleary, 'your thon may be aboard-a- +thip by thith time. Childerth took him off, an hour and a half +after we left there latht night. The horthe danthed the polka till +he wath dead beat (he would have walthed if he hadn't been in +harneth), and then I gave him the word and he went to thleep +comfortable. When that prethiouth young Rathcal thed he'd go +for'ard afoot, the dog hung on to hith neck-hankercher with all +four legth in the air and pulled him down and rolled him over. Tho +he come back into the drag, and there he that, 'till I turned the +horthe'th head, at half-patht thixth thith morning.' + +Mr. Gradgrind overwhelmed him with thanks, of course; and hinted as +delicately as he could, at a handsome remuneration in money. + +'I don't want money mythelf, Thquire; but Childerth ith a family +man, and if you wath to like to offer him a five-pound note, it +mightn't be unactheptable. Likewithe if you wath to thtand a +collar for the dog, or a thet of bellth for the horthe, I thould be +very glad to take 'em. Brandy and water I alwayth take.' He had +already called for a glass, and now called for another. 'If you +wouldn't think it going too far, Thquire, to make a little thpread +for the company at about three and thixth ahead, not reckoning +Luth, it would make 'em happy.' + +All these little tokens of his gratitude, Mr. Gradgrind very +willingly undertook to render. Though he thought them far too +slight, he said, for such a service. + +'Very well, Thquire; then, if you'll only give a Horthe-riding, a +bethpeak, whenever you can, you'll more than balanthe the account. +Now, Thquire, if your daughter will ethcuthe me, I thould like one +parting word with you.' + +Louisa and Sissy withdrew into an adjoining room; Mr. Sleary, +stirring and drinking his brandy and water as he stood, went on: + +'Thquire, - you don't need to be told that dogth ith wonderful +animalth.' + +'Their instinct,' said Mr. Gradgrind, 'is surprising.' + +'Whatever you call it - and I'm bletht if I know what to call it' - +said Sleary, 'it ith athtonithing. The way in whith a dog'll find +you - the dithtanthe he'll come!' + +'His scent,' said Mr. Gradgrind, 'being so fine.' + +'I'm bletht if I know what to call it,' repeated Sleary, shaking +his head, 'but I have had dogth find me, Thquire, in a way that +made me think whether that dog hadn't gone to another dog, and +thed, "You don't happen to know a perthon of the name of Thleary, +do you? Perthon of the name of Thleary, in the Horthe-Riding way - +thtout man - game eye?" And whether that dog mightn't have thed, +"Well, I can't thay I know him mythelf, but I know a dog that I +think would be likely to be acquainted with him." And whether that +dog mightn't have thought it over, and thed, "Thleary, Thleary! O +yeth, to be thure! A friend of mine menthioned him to me at one +time. I can get you hith addreth directly." In conthequenth of my +being afore the public, and going about tho muth, you thee, there +mutht be a number of dogth acquainted with me, Thquire, that I +don't know!' + +Mr. Gradgrind seemed to be quite confounded by this speculation. + +'Any way,' said Sleary, after putting his lips to his brandy and +water, 'ith fourteen month ago, Thquire, thinthe we wath at +Chethter. We wath getting up our Children in the Wood one morning, +when there cometh into our Ring, by the thtage door, a dog. He had +travelled a long way, he wath in a very bad condithon, he wath +lame, and pretty well blind. He went round to our children, one +after another, as if he wath a theeking for a child he know'd; and +then he come to me, and throwd hithelf up behind, and thtood on +hith two forelegth, weak ath he wath, and then he wagged hith tail +and died. Thquire, that dog wath Merrylegth.' + +'Sissy's father's dog!' + +'Thethilia'th father'th old dog. Now, Thquire, I can take my oath, +from my knowledge of that dog, that that man wath dead - and buried +- afore that dog come back to me. Joth'phine and Childerth and me +talked it over a long time, whether I thould write or not. But we +agreed, "No. There'th nothing comfortable to tell; why unthettle +her mind, and make her unhappy?" Tho, whether her father bathely +detherted her; or whether he broke hith own heart alone, rather +than pull her down along with him; never will be known, now, +Thquire, till - no, not till we know how the dogth findth uth out!' + +'She keeps the bottle that he sent her for, to this hour; and she +will believe in his affection to the last moment of her life,' said +Mr. Gradgrind. + +'It theemth to prethent two thingth to a perthon, don't it, +Thquire?' said Mr. Sleary, musing as he looked down into the depths +of his brandy and water: 'one, that there ith a love in the world, +not all Thelf-interetht after all, but thomething very different; +t'other, that it bath a way of ith own of calculating or not +calculating, whith thomehow or another ith at leatht ath hard to +give a name to, ath the wayth of the dogth ith!' + +Mr. Gradgrind looked out of window, and made no reply. Mr. Sleary +emptied his glass and recalled the ladies. + +'Thethilia my dear, kith me and good-bye! Mith Thquire, to thee +you treating of her like a thithter, and a thithter that you trutht +and honour with all your heart and more, ith a very pretty thight +to me. I hope your brother may live to be better detherving of +you, and a greater comfort to you. Thquire, thake handth, firtht +and latht! Don't be croth with uth poor vagabondth. People mutht +be amuthed. They can't be alwayth a learning, nor yet they can't +be alwayth a working, they an't made for it. You mutht have uth, +Thquire. Do the withe thing and the kind thing too, and make the +betht of uth; not the wurtht!' + +'And I never thought before,' said Mr. Sleary, putting his head in +at the door again to say it, 'that I wath tho muth of a Cackler!' + + + +CHAPTER IX - FINAL + + + +IT is a dangerous thing to see anything in the sphere of a vain +blusterer, before the vain blusterer sees it himself. Mr. +Bounderby felt that Mrs. Sparsit had audaciously anticipated him, +and presumed to be wiser than he. Inappeasably indignant with her +for her triumphant discovery of Mrs. Pegler, he turned this +presumption, on the part of a woman in her dependent position, over +and over in his mind, until it accumulated with turning like a +great snowball. At last he made the discovery that to discharge +this highly connected female - to have it in his power to say, 'She +was a woman of family, and wanted to stick to me, but I wouldn't +have it, and got rid of her' - would be to get the utmost possible +amount of crowning glory out of the connection, and at the same +time to punish Mrs. Sparsit according to her deserts. + +Filled fuller than ever, with this great idea, Mr. Bounderby came +in to lunch, and sat himself down in the dining-room of former +days, where his portrait was. Mrs. Sparsit sat by the fire, with +her foot in her cotton stirrup, little thinking whither she was +posting. + +Since the Pegler affair, this gentlewoman had covered her pity for +Mr. Bounderby with a veil of quiet melancholy and contrition. In +virtue thereof, it had become her habit to assume a woful look, +which woful look she now bestowed upon her patron. + +'What's the matter now, ma'am?' said Mr. Bounderby, in a very +short, rough way. + +'Pray, sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit, 'do not bite my nose off.' + +'Bite your nose off, ma'am?' repeated Mr. Bounderby. 'Your nose!' +meaning, as Mrs. Sparsit conceived, that it was too developed a +nose for the purpose. After which offensive implication, he cut +himself a crust of bread, and threw the knife down with a noise. + +Mrs. Sparsit took her foot out of her stirrup, and said, 'Mr. +Bounderby, sir!' + +'Well, ma'am?' retorted Mr. Bounderby. 'What are you staring at?' + +'May I ask, sir,' said Mrs. Sparsit, 'have you been ruffled this +morning?' + +'Yes, ma'am.' + +'May I inquire, sir,' pursued the injured woman, 'whether I am the +unfortunate cause of your having lost your temper?' + +'Now, I'll tell you what, ma'am,' said Bounderby, 'I am not come +here to be bullied. A female may be highly connected, but she +can't be permitted to bother and badger a man in my position, and I +am not going to put up with it.' (Mr. Bounderby felt it necessary +to get on: foreseeing that if he allowed of details, he would be +beaten.) + +Mrs. Sparsit first elevated, then knitted, her Coriolanian +eyebrows; gathered up her work into its proper basket; and rose. + +'Sir,' said she, majestically. 'It is apparent to me that I am in +your way at present. I will retire to my own apartment.' + +'Allow me to open the door, ma'am.' + +'Thank you, sir; I can do it for myself.' + +'You had better allow me, ma'am,' said Bounderby, passing her, and +getting his hand upon the lock; 'because I can take the opportunity +of saying a word to you, before you go. Mrs. Sparsit, ma'am, I +rather think you are cramped here, do you know? It appears to me, +that, under my humble roof, there's hardly opening enough for a +lady of your genius in other people's affairs.' + +Mrs. Sparsit gave him a look of the darkest scorn, and said with +great politeness, 'Really, sir?' + +'I have been thinking it over, you see, since the late affairs have +happened, ma'am,' said Bounderby; 'and it appears to my poor +judgment - ' + +'Oh! Pray, sir,' Mrs. Sparsit interposed, with sprightly +cheerfulness, 'don't disparage your judgment. Everybody knows how +unerring Mr. Bounderby's judgment is. Everybody has had proofs of +it. It must be the theme of general conversation. Disparage +anything in yourself but your judgment, sir,' said Mrs. Sparsit, +laughing. + +Mr. Bounderby, very red and uncomfortable, resumed: + +'It appears to me, ma'am, I say, that a different sort of +establishment altogether would bring out a lady of your powers. +Such an establishment as your relation, Lady Scadgers's, now. +Don't you think you might find some affairs there, ma'am, to +interfere with?' + +'It never occurred to me before, sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit; 'but +now you mention it, should think it highly probable.' + +'Then suppose you try, ma'am,' said Bounderby, laying an envelope +with a cheque in it in her little basket. 'You can take your own +time for going, ma'am; but perhaps in the meanwhile, it will be +more agreeable to a lady of your powers of mind, to eat her meals +by herself, and not to be intruded upon. I really ought to +apologise to you - being only Josiah Bounderby of Coketown - for +having stood in your light so long.' + +'Pray don't name it, sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit. 'If that +portrait could speak, sir - but it has the advantage over the +original of not possessing the power of committing itself and +disgusting others, - it would testify, that a long period has +elapsed since I first habitually addressed it as the picture of a +Noodle. Nothing that a Noodle does, can awaken surprise or +indignation; the proceedings of a Noodle can only inspire +contempt.' + +Thus saying, Mrs. Sparsit, with her Roman features like a medal +struck to commemorate her scorn of Mr. Bounderby, surveyed him +fixedly from head to foot, swept disdainfully past him, and +ascended the staircase. Mr. Bounderby closed the door, and stood +before the fire; projecting himself after his old explosive manner +into his portrait - and into futurity. + + +Into how much of futurity? He saw Mrs. Sparsit fighting out a +daily fight at the points of all the weapons in the female armoury, +with the grudging, smarting, peevish, tormenting Lady Scadgers, +still laid up in bed with her mysterious leg, and gobbling her +insufficient income down by about the middle of every quarter, in a +mean little airless lodging, a mere closet for one, a mere crib for +two; but did he see more? Did he catch any glimpse of himself +making a show of Bitzer to strangers, as the rising young man, so +devoted to his master's great merits, who had won young Tom's +place, and had almost captured young Tom himself, in the times when +by various rascals he was spirited away? Did he see any faint +reflection of his own image making a vain-glorious will, whereby +five-and-twenty Humbugs, past five-and-fifty years of age, each +taking upon himself the name, Josiah Bounderby of Coketown, should +for ever dine in Bounderby Hall, for ever lodge in Bounderby +buildings, for ever attend a Bounderby chapel, for ever go to sleep +under a Bounderby chaplain, for ever be supported out of a +Bounderby estate, and for ever nauseate all healthy stomachs, with +a vast amount of Bounderby balderdash and bluster? Had he any +prescience of the day, five years to come, when Josiah Bounderby of +Coketown was to die of a fit in the Coketown street, and this same +precious will was to begin its long career of quibble, plunder, +false pretences, vile example, little service and much law? +Probably not. Yet the portrait was to see it all out. + +Here was Mr. Gradgrind on the same day, and in the same hour, +sitting thoughtful in his own room. How much of futurity did he +see? Did he see himself, a white-haired decrepit man, bending his +hitherto inflexible theories to appointed circumstances; making his +facts and figures subservient to Faith, Hope, and Charity; and no +longer trying to grind that Heavenly trio in his dusty little +mills? Did he catch sight of himself, therefore much despised by +his late political associates? Did he see them, in the era of its +being quite settled that the national dustmen have only to do with +one another, and owe no duty to an abstraction called a People, +'taunting the honourable gentleman' with this and with that and +with what not, five nights a-week, until the small hours of the +morning? Probably he had that much foreknowledge, knowing his men. + + +Here was Louisa on the night of the same day, watching the fire as +in days of yore, though with a gentler and a humbler face. How +much of the future might arise before her vision? Broadsides in +the streets, signed with her father's name, exonerating the late +Stephen Blackpool, weaver, from misplaced suspicion, and publishing +the guilt of his own son, with such extenuation as his years and +temptation (he could not bring himself to add, his education) might +beseech; were of the Present. So, Stephen Blackpool's tombstone, +with her father's record of his death, was almost of the Present, +for she knew it was to be. These things she could plainly see. +But, how much of the Future? + +A working woman, christened Rachael, after a long illness once +again appearing at the ringing of the Factory bell, and passing to +and fro at the set hours, among the Coketown Hands; a woman of +pensive beauty, always dressed in black, but sweet-tempered and +serene, and even cheerful; who, of all the people in the place, +alone appeared to have compassion on a degraded, drunken wretch of +her own sex, who was sometimes seen in the town secretly begging of +her, and crying to her; a woman working, ever working, but content +to do it, and preferring to do it as her natural lot, until she +should be too old to labour any more? Did Louisa see this? Such a +thing was to be. + +A lonely brother, many thousands of miles away, writing, on paper +blotted with tears, that her words had too soon come true, and that +all the treasures in the world would be cheaply bartered for a +sight of her dear face? At length this brother coming nearer home, +with hope of seeing her, and being delayed by illness; and then a +letter, in a strange hand, saying 'he died in hospital, of fever, +such a day, and died in penitence and love of you: his last word +being your name'? Did Louisa see these things? Such things were +to be. + +Herself again a wife - a mother - lovingly watchful of her +children, ever careful that they should have a childhood of the +mind no less than a childhood of the body, as knowing it to be even +a more beautiful thing, and a possession, any hoarded scrap of +which, is a blessing and happiness to the wisest? Did Louisa see +this? Such a thing was never to be. + +But, happy Sissy's happy children loving her; all children loving +her; she, grown learned in childish lore; thinking no innocent and +pretty fancy ever to be despised; trying hard to know her humbler +fellow-creatures, and to beautify their lives of machinery and +reality with those imaginative graces and delights, without which +the heart of infancy will wither up, the sturdiest physical manhood +will be morally stark death, and the plainest national prosperity +figures can show, will be the Writing on the Wall, - she holding +this course as part of no fantastic vow, or bond, or brotherhood, +or sisterhood, or pledge, or covenant, or fancy dress, or fancy +fair; but simply as a duty to be done, - did Louisa see these +things of herself? These things were to be. + +Dear reader! It rests with you and me, whether, in our two fields +of action, similar things shall be or not. Let them be! We shall +sit with lighter bosoms on the hearth, to see the ashes of our +fires turn gray and cold. + + + + + +*The Project Gutenberg Etext of Hard Times, by Charles Dickens* + |