Hard Times

by Dickens, Charles

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

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  Dickens, Charles - Hard Times

  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.

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  Dickens, Charles - Hard Times

  '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

&n
bsp; 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.

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  Dickens, Charles - Hard Times

  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.'

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  Dickens, Charles - Hard Times

  '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 w
ith 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

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  Dickens, Charles - Hard Times

  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,