hard times(艰难时世)-第2章
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have imperial gallons of facts poured into them until they were full
to the brim。
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Hard Times 9
Chapter 2
Murdering The Innocents
homas Gradgrind； sir。 A man of realities。 A man of fact and
calculations。 A man who proceeds upon the principle that
T
two and two are four； and nothing over； and who is not to
be talked into allowing for anything over。 Thomas Gradgrind； sir—
peremptorily Thomas—Thomas Gradgrind。 With a rule and a pair
of scales； and the multiplication table always in his pocket； sir；
ready to weigh and measure any parcel of human nature； and tell
you exactly what it comes to。 It is a mere question of figures； a case
of simple arithmetic。 You might hope to get some other
nonsensical belief into the head of George Gradgrind； or Augustus
Gradgrind； or John Gradgrind； or Joseph Gradgrind （all
suppositious； non…existent persons）； but into the head of Thomas
Gradgrind—no； sir！
In such terms Mr Gradgrind always mentally introduced
himself； whether to his private circle of acquaintance； or to the
public in general。 In such terms； no doubt； substituting the words
“boys and girls”； for “sir”； Thomas Gradgrind now presented
Thomas Gradgrind to the little pitchers before him； who were to
be filled so full of facts。
Indeed； as he eagerly sparkled at them from the cellarage
before mentioned； he seemed a kind of cannon loaded to the
muzzle with facts； and prepared to blow them clean out of the
regions of childhood at one discharge。 He seemed a galvanising
apparatus； too； charged with a grim mechanical substitute for the
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Hard Times 10
tender young imaginations that were to be stormed away。
“Girl number twenty；” said Mr Gradgrind； squarely pointing
with his square forefinger； “I don’t know that girl。 Who is that
girl？”
“Sissy Jupe； sir；” explained number twenty； blushing； standing
up； and curtseying。
“Sissy is not a name；” said Mr Gradgrind。 “Don’t call yourself
Sissy。 Call yourself Cecilia。”
“It’s father as calls me Sissy； sir；” returned the young girl in a
trembling voice； and with another curtsey。
“Then he has no business to do it；” said Mr Gradgrind。 “Tell
him he mustn’t。 Cecilia Jupe。 Let me see。 What is your father？”
“He belongs to the horse…riding； if you please； sir。”
Mr Gradgrind frowned； and waved off the objectionable calling
with his hand。
“We don’t want to know anything about that； here。 You mustn’t
tell us about that； here。 Your father breaks horses； don’t he？”
“If you please； sir； when they can get any to break； they do
break horses in the ring； sir。”
“You mustn’t tell us about the ring； here。 Very well； then。
Describe your father as a horse…breaker。 He doctors sick horses； I
dare say？”
“Oh yes； sir。”
“Very well； then。 He is a veterinary surgeon； a farrier and
horse…breaker。 Give me your definition of a horse。”
（Sissy Jupe thrown into the greatest alarm by this demand。）
“Girl number twenty unable to define a horse！” said Mr
Gradgrind； for the general behoof of all the little pitchers。 “Girl
number twenty possessed of no facts； in reference to one of the
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commonest of animals！ Some boy’s definition of a horse。 Bitzer；
yours。”
The square finger； moving here and there； lighted suddenly on
Bitzer； perhaps because he chanced to sit in the same ray of
sunlight which； darting in at one of the bare windows of the
intensely whitewashed room； irradiated Sissy。 For； the boys and
girls sat on the face of the inclined plane in two compact bodies；
divided up the centre by a narrow interval； and Sissy； being at the
corner of a row on the sunny side； came in for the beginning of a
sunbeam； of which Bitzer； being at the corner of a row on the
other side； a few rows in advance； caught the end。 But； whereas
the girl was so dark…eyed and dark…haired； that she seemed to
receive a deeper and more lustrous colour from the sun when it
shone upon her； the boy was so light…eyed and light…haired that
the selfsame rays appeared to draw out of him what little colour he
ever possessed。 His cold eyes would hardly have been eyes； but for
the short ends of lashes which； by bringing them into immediate
contrast with something paler than themselves； expressed their
form。 His short…cropped hair might have been a mere continuation
of the sandy freckles on his forehead and face。 His skin was so
unwholesomely deficient in the natural tinge； that he looked as
though； if he were cut； he would bleed white。
“Bitzer；” said Thomas Gradgrind。 “Your definition of a horse。”
“Quadruped。 Graminivorous。 Forty teeth； namely twenty…four
grinders； four eye…teeth； and twelve incisive。 Sheds coat in the
spring； in marshy countries； sheds hoofs； too。 Hoofs hard； but
requiring to be shod with iron。 Age known by marks in mouth。”
Thus （and much more） Bitzer。
“Now girl number twenty；” said Mr Gradgrind。 “You know
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what a horse is。”
She curtseyed again； and would have blushed deeper； if she
could have blushed deeper than she had blushed all this time。
Bitzer； after rapidly blinking at Thomas Gradgrind with both eyes
at once； and so catching the light upon his quivering ends of lashes
that they looked like the antennae of busy insects； put his knuckles
to his freckled forehead； and sat down again。
The third gentleman now stepped forth。 A mighty man at
cutting and drying； he was； a government officer； in his way （and
in most other people’s too）； a professed pugilist； always in training；
always with a system to force down the general throat like a bolus；
always to be heard of at the bar of his little Public…office； ready to
fight all England。 To continue in fistic phraseology； he had a
genius for coming up to the scratch； wherever and whatever it
was； and proving himself an ugly customer。 He would go in and
damage any subject whatever with his right； follow up with his
left； stop； exchange； counter； bore his opponent （he always fought
All England） to the ropes； and fall upon him neatly。 He was certain
to knock the wind ou
