Domestic fiction; Education -- Fiction; England -- Fiction; Political fiction; Social problems -- Fiction; Utilitarianism -- Fiction
‘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
then 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, an’ to card, an’ 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 how the mills is awlus a goin, and how they never
works us no nigher to ony dis’ant object—ceptin awlus, Death. Look how
you considers of us, and writes of us, and talks of us, and goes up wi’
yor deputations to Secretaries o’ State ’bout us, and 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
looken 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!’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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