IT is a dangerous thing to see anything in the sphere of a vain blusterer2, 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 triumphant3 discovery of Mrs. Pegler, he turned this presumption4, 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 melancholy5 and contrition6. In virtue7 thereof, it had become her habit to assume a woful look, which woful look she now bestowed8 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 ruffled9 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 bullied10. A female may be highly connected, but she can't be permitted to bother and badger11 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 eyebrows12; gathered up her work into its proper basket; and rose.
'Sir,' said she, majestically13. '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 cramped14 here, do you know? It appears to me, that, under my humble15 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 judgment16 - '
'Oh! Pray, sir,' Mrs. Sparsit interposed, with sprightly17 cheerfulness, 'don't disparage18 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 interfere19 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 intruded20 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 habitually21 addressed it as the picture of a Noodle. Nothing that a Noodle does, can awaken22 surprise or indignation; the proceedings23 of a Noodle can only inspire contempt.'
Thus saying, Mrs. Sparsit, with her Roman features like a medal struck to commemorate24 her scorn of Mr. Bounderby, surveyed him fixedly25 from head to foot, swept disdainfully past him, and ascended26 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 grudging27, smarting, peevish28, tormenting29 Lady Scadgers, still laid up in bed with her mysterious leg, and gobbling her insufficient30 income down by about the middle of every quarter, in a mean little airless lodging31, a mere32 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 devoted33 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 rascals34 he was spirited away? Did he see any faint reflection of his own image making a vain-glorious will, whereby five-and-twenty Humbugs35, 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 lodge36 in Bounderby buildings, for ever attend a Bounderby chapel37, for ever go to sleep under a Bounderby chaplain, for ever be supported out of a Bounderby estate, and for ever nauseate38 all healthy stomachs, with a vast amount of Bounderby balderdash and bluster1? 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, plunder39, false pretences40, vile41 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 decrepit42 man, bending his hitherto inflexible43 theories to appointed circumstances; making his facts and figures subservient44 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, 'taunting45 the honourable46 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, exonerating47 the late Stephen Blackpool, weaver48, from misplaced suspicion, and publishing the guilt49 of his own son, with such extenuation50 as his years and temptation (he could not bring himself to add, his education) might beseech51; 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 pensive52 beauty, always dressed in black, but sweet-tempered and serene53, and even cheerful; who, of all the people in the place, alone appeared to have compassion54 on a degraded, drunken wretch55 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 blotted56 with tears, that her words had too soon come true, and that all the treasures in the world would be cheaply bartered57 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 penitence58 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 watchful59 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 hoarded60 scrap61 of which, is a blessing62 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 lore63; thinking no innocent and pretty fancy ever to be despised; trying hard to know her humbler fellow-creatures, and to beautify their lives of machinery64 and reality with those imaginative graces and delights, without which the heart of infancy65 will wither66 up, the sturdiest physical manhood will be morally stark67 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 vow68, or bond, or brotherhood69, or sisterhood, or pledge, or covenant70, 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 lighter71 bosoms72 on the hearth73, to see the ashes of our fires turn gray and cold.
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1
bluster
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| v.猛刮；怒冲冲的说；n.吓唬，怒号；狂风声 | |
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blusterer
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| n.咆哮的人，吓唬人的人 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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presumption
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| n.推测，可能性，冒昧，放肆，[法律]推定 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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contrition
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| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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bullied
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| adj.被欺负了v.恐吓，威逼( bully的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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badger
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| v.一再烦扰，一再要求，纠缠 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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majestically
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| 雄伟地； 庄重地； 威严地； 崇高地 | |
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cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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sprightly
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| adj.愉快的，活泼的 | |
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disparage
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| v.贬抑，轻蔑 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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intruded
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| n.侵入的，推进的v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的过去式和过去分词 )；把…强加于 | |
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habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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commemorate
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| vt.纪念，庆祝 | |
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fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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grudging
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| adj.勉强的，吝啬的 | |
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peevish
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| adj.易怒的，坏脾气的 | |
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tormenting
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| 使痛苦的，使苦恼的 | |
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insufficient
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| adj.(for，of)不足的，不够的 | |
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lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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rascals
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| 流氓( rascal的名词复数 )； 无赖； （开玩笑说法）淘气的人（尤指小孩）； 恶作剧的人 | |
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humbugs
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| 欺骗( humbug的名词复数 )； 虚伪； 骗子； 薄荷硬糖 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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nauseate
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| v.使作呕；使感到恶心；使厌恶 | |
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plunder
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| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
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pretences
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| n.假装( pretence的名词复数 )；作假；自命；自称 | |
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vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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decrepit
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| adj.衰老的，破旧的 | |
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inflexible
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| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
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subservient
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| adj.卑屈的，阿谀的 | |
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45
taunting
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| 嘲讽( taunt的现在分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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exonerating
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| v.使免罪，免除( exonerate的现在分词 ) | |
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weaver
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| n.织布工；编织者 | |
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49
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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50
extenuation
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| n.减轻罪孽的借口；酌情减轻；细 | |
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beseech
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| v.祈求，恳求 | |
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52
pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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53
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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54
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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56
blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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bartered
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| v.作物物交换，以货换货( barter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
penitence
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| n.忏悔，赎罪；悔过 | |
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59
watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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hoarded
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| v.积蓄并储藏（某物）( hoard的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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lore
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| n.传说；学问，经验，知识 | |
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machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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66
wither
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| vt.使凋谢，使衰退，(用眼神气势等)使畏缩；vi.枯萎，衰退，消亡 | |
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stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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70
covenant
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| n.盟约，契约；v.订盟约 | |
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71
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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72
bosoms
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| 胸部( bosom的名词复数 )； 胸怀； 女衣胸部（或胸襟）； 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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