A LOOPHOLE

MR. GRADGRIND walked homeward from the school, in a state of considerablernsatisfaction. It was his school, and he intended it to be a model. Hernintended every child in it to be a model—just as the young Gradgrindsrnwere all models.rnrnThere were five young Gradgrinds, and they were models every one. Theyrnhad been lectured at, from their tenderest years; coursed, like littlernhares. Almost as soon as they could run alone, they had been made to runrnto the lecture-room. The first object with which they had anrnassociation, or of which they had a remembrance, was a large black boardrnwith a dry Ogre chalking ghastly white figures on it.rnrnNot that they knew, by name or nature, anything about an Ogre Factrnforbid! I only use the word to express a monster in a lecturing castle,rnwith Heaven knows how many heads manipulated into one, taking childhoodrncaptive, and dragging it into gloomy statistical dens by the hair.rnrnNo little Gradgrind had ever seen a face in the moon; it was up in thernmoon before it could speak distinctly. No little Gradgrind had everrnlearnt the silly jingle, Twinkle, twinkle, little star; how I wonder whatrnyou are! No little Gradgrind had ever known wonder on the subject, eachrnlittle Gradgrind having at five years old dissected the Great Bear like arnProfessor Owen, and driven Charles’s Wain like a locomotivernengine-driver. No little Gradgrind had ever associated a cow in a fieldrnwith that famous cow with the crumpled horn who tossed the dog whornworried the cat who killed the rat who ate the malt, or with that yetrnmore famous cow who swallowed Tom Thumb: it had never heard of thoserncelebrities, and had only been introduced to a cow as a graminivorousrnruminating quadruped with several stomachs.rnrnTo his matter-of-fact home, which was called Stone Lodge, Mr. Gradgrindrndirected his steps. He had virtually retired from the wholesale hardwarerntrade before he built Stone Lodge, and was now looking about for arnsuitable opportunity of making an arithmetical figure in Parliament.rnStone Lodge was situated on a moor within a mile or two of a greatrntown—called Coketown in the present faithful guide-book.rnrnA very regular feature on the face of the country, Stone Lodge was. Notrnthe least disguise toned down or shaded off that uncompromising fact inrnthe landscape. A great square house, with a heavy portico darkening thernprincipal windows, as its master’s heavy brows overshadowed his eyes. Arncalculated, cast up, balanced, and proved house. Six windows on thisrnside of the door, six on that side; a total of twelve in this wing, arntotal of twelve in the other wing; four-and-twenty carried over to thernback wings. A lawn and garden and an infant avenue, all ruled straightrnlike a botanical account-book. Gas and ventilation, drainage andrnwater-service, all of the primest quality. Iron clamps and girders,rnfire-proof from top to bottom; mechanical lifts for the housemaids, withrnall their brushes and brooms; everything that heart could desire.rnrnEverything? Well, I suppose so. The little Gradgrinds had cabinets inrnvarious departments of science too. They had a little conchologicalrncabinet, and a little metallurgical cabinet, and a little mineralogicalrncabinet; and the specimens were all arranged and labelled, and the bitsrnof stone and ore looked as though they might have been broken from thernparent substances by those tremendously hard instruments their own names;rnand, to paraphrase the idle legend of Peter Piper, who had never foundrnhis way into their nursery, If the greedy little Gradgrinds grasped atrnmore than this, what was it for good gracious goodness’ sake, that therngreedy little Gradgrinds grasped it!rnrnTheir father walked on in a hopeful and satisfied frame of mind. He wasrnan affectionate father, after his manner; but he would probably haverndescribed himself (if he had been put, like Sissy Jupe, upon arndefinition) as ‘an eminently practical’ father. He had a particularrnpride in the phrase eminently practical, which was considered to have arnspecial application to him. Whatsoever the public meeting held inrnCoketown, and whatsoever the subject of such meeting, some Coketowner wasrnsure to seize the occasion of alluding to his eminently practical friendrnGradgrind. This always pleased the eminently practical friend. He knewrnit to be his due, but his due was acceptable.rnrnHe had reached the neutral ground upon the outskirts of the town, whichrnwas neither town nor country, and yet was either spoiled, when his earsrnwere invaded by the sound of music. The clashing and banging bandrnattached to the horse-riding establishment, which had there set up itsrnrest in a wooden pavilion, was in full bray. A flag, floating from thernsummit of the temple, proclaimed to mankind that it was ‘Sleary’srnHorse-riding’ which claimed their suffrages. Sleary himself, a stoutrnmodern statue with a money-box at its elbow, in an ecclesiastical nichernof early Gothic architecture, took the money. Miss Josephine Sleary, asrnsome very long and very narrow strips of printed bill announced, was thenrninaugurating the entertainments with her graceful equestrian Tyroleanrnflower-act. Among the other pleasing but always strictly moral wondersrnwhich must be seen to be believed, Signor Jupe was that afternoon torn‘elucidate the diverting accomplishments of his highly trained performingrndog Merrylegs.’ He was also to exhibit ‘his astounding feat of throwingrnseventy-five hundred-weight in rapid succession backhanded over his head,rnthus forming a fountain of solid iron in mid-air, a feat never beforernattempted in this or any other country, and which having elicited suchrnrapturous plaudits from enthusiastic throngs it cannot be withdrawn.’rnThe same Signor Jupe was to ‘enliven the varied performances at frequentrnintervals with his chaste Shaksperean quips and retorts.’ Lastly, he wasrnto wind them up by appearing in his favourite character of Mr. WilliamrnButton, of Tooley Street, in ‘the highly novel and laughablernhippo-comedietta of The Tailor’s Journey to Brentford.’rnrnThomas Gradgrind took no heed of these trivialities of course, but passedrnon as a practical man ought to pass on, either brushing the noisy insectsrnfrom his thoughts, or consigning them to the House of Correction. But,rnthe turning of the road took him by the back of the booth, and at thernback of the booth a number of children were congregated in a number ofrnstealthy attitudes, striving to peep in at the hidden glories of thernplace.rnrnThis brought him to a stop. ‘Now, to think of these vagabonds,’ said he,‘attracting the young rabble from a model school.’rnrnA space of stunted grass and dry rubbish being between him and the youngrnrabble, he took his eyeglass out of his waistcoat to look for any childrnhe knew by name, and might order off. Phenomenon almost incrediblernthough distinctly seen, what did he then behold but his own metallurgicalrnLouisa, peeping with all her might through a hole in a deal board, andrnhis own mathematical Thomas abasing himself on the ground to catch but arnhoof of the graceful equestrian Tyrolean flower-act!rnrnDumb with amazement, Mr. Gradgrind crossed to the spot where his familyrnwas thus disgraced, laid his hand upon each erring child, and said:rnrn‘Louisa!! Thomas!!’rnrnBoth rose, red and disconcerted. But, Louisa looked at her father withrnmore boldness than Thomas did. Indeed, Thomas did not look at him, butrngave himself up to be taken home like a machine.rnrn‘In the name of wonder, idleness, and folly!’ said Mr. Gradgrind, leadingrneach away by a hand; ‘what do you do here?’rnrn‘Wanted to see what it was like,’ returned Louisa, shortly.rnrn‘What it was like?’rnrn‘Yes, father.’rnrnThere was an air of jaded sullenness in them both, and particularly inrnthe girl: yet, struggling through the dissatisfaction of her face, therernwas a light with nothing to rest upon, a fire with nothing to burn, arnstarved imagination keeping life in itself somehow, which brightened itsrnexpression. Not with the brightness natural to cheerful youth, but withrnuncertain, eager, doubtful flashes, which had something painful in them,rnanalogous to the changes on a blind face groping its way.rnrnShe was a child now, of fifteen or sixteen; but at no distant day wouldrnseem to become a woman all at once. Her father thought so as he lookedrnat her. She was pretty. Would have been self-willed (he thought in hisrneminently practical way) but for her bringing-up.rnrn‘Thomas, though I have the fact before me, I find it difficult to believernthat you, with your education and resources, should have brought yourrnsister to a scene like this.’rnrn‘I brought _him_, father,’ said Louisa, quickly. ‘I asked him to come.’rnrn‘I am sorry to hear it. I am very sorry indeed to hear it. It makesrnThomas no better, and it makes you worse, Louisa.’rnrnShe looked at her father again, but no tear fell down her cheek.rnrn‘You! Thomas and you, to whom the circle of the sciences is open; Thomasrnand you, who may be said to be replete with facts; Thomas and you, whornhave been trained to mathematical exactness; Thomas and you, here!’ criedrnMr. Gradgrind. ‘In this degraded position! I am amazed.’rnrn‘I was tired, father. I have been tired a long time,’ said Louisa.rnrn‘Tired? Of what?’ asked the astonished father.rnrn‘I don’t know of what—of everything, I think.’rnrn‘Say not another word,’ returned Mr. Gradgrind. ‘You are childish. Irnwill hear no more.’ He did not speak again until they had walked somernhalf-a-mile in silence, when he gravely broke out with: ‘What would yourrnbest friends say, Louisa? Do you attach no value to their good opinion?rnWhat would Mr. Bounderby say?’ At the mention of this name, his daughterrnstole a look at him, remarkable for its intense and searching character.rnHe saw nothing of it, for before he looked at her, she had again castrndown her eyes!rnrn‘What,’ he repeated presently, ‘would Mr. Bounderby say?’ All the way tornStone Lodge, as with grave indignation he led the two delinquents home,rnhe repeated at intervals ‘What would Mr. Bounderby say?’—as if Mr.rnBounderby had been Mrs. Grundy.