Domestic fiction; Education -- Fiction; England -- Fiction; Political fiction; Social problems -- Fiction; Utilitarianism -- Fiction
‘Sir,’ returned Bitzer, in a very business-like and logical manner,
‘since you ask me what motive I have in reason, for taking young Mr. Tom
back to Coketown, it is only reasonable to let you know. I have
suspected young Mr. Tom of this bank-robbery from the first. I had had
my eye upon him before that time, for I knew his ways. I have kept my
observations to myself, but I have made them; and I have got ample proofs
against him now, besides his running away, and besides his own
confession, which I was just in time to overhear. I had the pleasure of
watching your house yesterday morning, and following you here. I am
going to take young Mr. Tom back to Coketown, in order to deliver him
over to Mr. Bounderby. Sir, I have no doubt whatever that Mr. Bounderby
will then promote me to young Mr. Tom’s situation. And I wish to have
his situation, sir, for it will be a rise to me, and will do me good.’
‘If this is solely a question of self-interest with you—’ Mr. Gradgrind
began.
‘I beg your pardon for interrupting you, sir,’ returned Bitzer; ‘but I am
sure you know that the whole social system is a question of
self-interest. What you must always appeal to, is a person’s
self-interest. It’s your only hold. We are so constituted. I was
brought up in that catechism when I was very young, sir, as you are
aware.’
‘What sum of money,’ said Mr. Gradgrind, ‘will you set against your
expected promotion?’
‘Thank you, sir,’ returned Bitzer, ‘for hinting at the proposal; but I
will not set any sum against it. Knowing that your clear head would
propose that alternative, I have gone over the calculations in my mind;
and I find that to compound a felony, even on very high terms indeed,
would not be as safe and good for me as my improved prospects in the
Bank.’
‘Bitzer,’ said Mr. Gradgrind, stretching out his hands as though he would
have said, See how miserable I am! ‘Bitzer, I have but one chance left
to soften you. You were many years at my school. If, in remembrance of
the pains bestowed upon you there, you can persuade yourself in any
degree to disregard your present interest and release my son, I entreat
and pray you to give him the benefit of that remembrance.’
‘I really wonder, sir,’ rejoined the old pupil in an argumentative
manner, ‘to find you taking a position so untenable. My schooling was
paid for; it was a bargain; and when I came away, the bargain ended.’
It was a fundamental principle of the Gradgrind philosophy that
everything was to be paid for. Nobody was ever on any account to give
anybody anything, or render anybody help without purchase. Gratitude was
to be abolished, and the virtues springing from it were not to be. Every
inch of the existence of mankind, from birth to death, was to be a
bargain across a counter. And if we didn’t get to Heaven that way, it
was not a politico-economical place, and we had no business there.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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