Hard Times

by Dickens, Charles

  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 welltimed.'

  '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

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  Dickens, Charles - Hard Times

  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 everyday

  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

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  Dickens, Charles - Hard Times

  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

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  Dickens, Charles - Hard Times

  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

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  Dickens, Charles - Hard Times

  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 illconwenienth

  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.

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  Dickens, Charles - Hard Times

  CHAPTER VII - MRS. SPARSIT

  MR. BOUNDERBY being a bachelor, an elderly lady presided over his