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made a back…handed point at Mr James Harthouse with his
thumb； “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； before…hand； what it will
be； nobody knows better than I do； take notice！—instead of
receiving it on trust； from your 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 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； and to card； and 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
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how the mills is awlus a goin； and how they never works us no
nigher to only dis’ant object—ceptin awlus； Death。 Look how you
considers of us； an writes of us an talks of us； an goes up wi’ yor
deputations to Secretaries o’ State ’bout us； an 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
looked 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—and was t’ sew ’em up in
separate sacks； and 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’
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Hard Times 194
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； and will
be heer when I am gone。 Put that clock aboard a ship and 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 be better aw this—though some workingmen
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 for to mak one side unnat’rally
awlus and forever right； and toother side unnat’rally awlus forever
wrong； will never； never do ’t。 Nor yet lettin alone will never do ’t。
Let thousands upon thousands alone； aw leadin 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 sitch…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 trobles； 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
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travels can beat—will never do ’t till th’ Sun turns t’ ice。 Most o’
aw； ratin ’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 unmade。”
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 spo’on 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。
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“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