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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。”
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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’ll 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
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Hard Times 164
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。”
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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；
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Hard Times 166
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 Jame