io
that's where the novel significantly enough begins - in the school where all
the children are seen as little vessels to be filled with Facts, There's the
Government commissioner or inspector present, Mr. Gradgrind of the school,
board, shall we say, and the schoolmaster, Mr. MChoakumchildChapter 2 begins
then like this (I shall skip parts):
Before reading it I might add that in 1839 a band of School inspectors
was installed in England, armed with 174 questions to guide them in their task,
and one wonders how relevant these were here:
Thomas Gradgrind, Sir. A man of realities. A man of facts and
calculations. A man who proceeds upon the principle that 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
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 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
'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
t
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'.
