reprinted pieces-第40部分
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eight noisy madwomen were gathered together; under the
superintendence of one sane attendant。 Among them was a girl of
two or three and twenty; very prettily dressed; of most respectable
appearance and good manners; who had been brought in from the house
where she had lived as domestic servant (having; I suppose; no
friends); on account of being subject to epileptic fits; and
requiring to be removed under the influence of a very bad one。 She
was by no means of the same stuff; or the same breeding; or the
same experience; or in the same state of mind; as those by whom she
was surrounded; and she pathetically complained that the daily
association and the nightly noise made her worse; and was driving
her mad … which was perfectly evident。 The case was noted for
inquiry and redress; but she said she had already been there for
some weeks。
If this girl had stolen her mistress's watch; I do not hesitate to
say she would have been infinitely better off。 We have come to
this absurd; this dangerous; this monstrous pass; that the
dishonest felon is; in respect of cleanliness; order; diet; and
accommodation; better provided for; and taken care of; than the
honest pauper。
And this conveys no special imputation on the workhouse of the
parish of St。 So…and…So; where; on the contrary; I saw many things
to commend。 It was very agreeable; recollecting that most infamous
and atrocious enormity committed at Tooting … an enormity which; a
hundred years hence; will still be vividly remembered in the bye…
ways of English life; and which has done more to engender a gloomy
discontent and suspicion among many thousands of the people than
all the Chartist leaders could have done in all their lives … to
find the pauper children in this workhouse looking robust and well;
and apparently the objects of very great care。 In the Infant
School … a large; light; airy room at the top of the building … the
little creatures; being at dinner; and eating their potatoes
heartily; were not cowed by the presence of strange visitors; but
stretched out their small hands to be shaken; with a very pleasant
confidence。 And it was comfortable to see two mangy pauper
rocking…horses rampant in a corner。 In the girls' school; where
the dinner was also in progress; everything bore a cheerful and
healthy aspect。 The meal was over; in the boys' school; by the
time of our arrival there; and the room was not yet quite
rearranged; but the boys were roaming unrestrained about a large
and airy yard; as any other schoolboys might have done。 Some of
them had been drawing large ships upon the schoolroom wall; and if
they had a mast with shrouds and stays set up for practice (as they
have in the Middlesex House of Correction); it would be so much the
better。 At present; if a boy should feel a strong impulse upon him
to learn the art of going aloft; he could only gratify it; I
presume; as the men and women paupers gratify their aspirations
after better board and lodging; by smashing as many workhouse
windows as possible; and being promoted to prison。
In one place; the Newgate of the Workhouse; a company of boys and
youths were locked up in a yard alone; their day…room being a kind
of kennel where the casual poor used formerly to be littered down
at night。 Divers of them had been there some long time。 'Are they
never going away?' was the natural inquiry。 'Most of them are
crippled; in some form or other;' said the Wardsman; 'and not fit
for anything。' They slunk about; like dispirited wolves or
hyaenas; and made a pounce at their food when it was served out;
much as those animals do。 The big…headed idiot shuffling his feet
along the pavement; in the sunlight outside; was a more agreeable
object everyway。
Groves of babies in arms; groves of mothers and other sick women in
bed; groves of lunatics; jungles of men in stone…paved down…stairs
day…rooms; waiting for their dinners; longer and longer groves of
old people; in up…stairs Infirmary wards; wearing out life; God
knows how … this was the scenery through which the walk lay; for
two hours。 In some of these latter chambers; there were pictures
stuck against the wall; and a neat display of crockery and pewter
on a kind of sideboard; now and then it was a treat to see a plant
or two; in almost every ward there was a cat。
In all of these Long Walks of aged and infirm; some old people were
bedridden; and had been for a long time; some were sitting on their
beds half…naked; some dying in their beds; some out of bed; and
sitting at a table near the fire。 A sullen or lethargic
indifference to what was asked; a blunted sensibility to everything
but warmth and food; a moody absence of complaint as being of no
use; a dogged silence and resentful desire to be left alone again;
I thought were generally apparent。 On our walking into the midst
of one of these dreary perspectives of old men; nearly the
following little dialogue took place; the nurse not being
immediately at hand:
'All well here?'
No answer。 An old man in a Scotch cap sitting among others on a
form at the table; eating out of a tin porringer; pushes back his
cap a little to look at us; claps it down on his forehead again
with the palm of his hand; and goes on eating。
'All well here?' (repeated)。
No answer。 Another old man sitting on his bed; paralytically
peeling a boiled potato; lifts his head and stares。
'Enough to eat?'
No answer。 Another old man; in bed; turns himself and coughs。
'How are YOU to…day?' To the last old man。
That old man says nothing; but another old man; a tall old man of
very good address; speaking with perfect correctness; comes forward
from somewhere; and volunteers an answer。 The reply almost always
proceeds from a volunteer; and not from the person looked at or
spoken to。
'We are very old; sir;' in a mild; distinct voice。 'We can't
expect to be well; most of us。'
'Are you comfortable?'
'I have no complaint to make; sir。' With a half shake of his head;
a half shrug of his shoulders; and a kind of apologetic smile。
'Enough to eat?'
'Why; sir; I have but a poor appetite;' with the same air as
before; 'and yet I get through my allowance very easily。'
'But;' showing a porringer with a Sunday dinner in it; 'here is a
portion of mutton; and three potatoes。 You can't starve on that?'
'Oh dear no; sir;' with the same apologetic air。 'Not starve。'
'What do you want?'
'We have very little bread; sir。 It's an exceedingly small
quantity of bread。'
The nurse; who is now rubbing her hands at the questioner's elbow;
interferes with; 'It ain't much raly; sir。 You see they've only
six ounces a day; and when they've took their breakfast; there CAN
only be a little left for night; sir。'
Another old man; hitherto invisible; rises out of his bed…clothes;
as out of a grave; and looks on。
'You have tea at night?' The questioner is still addressing the
well…spoken old man。
'Yes; sir; we have tea at night。'
'And you save what bread you can from the morning; to eat with it?'
'Yes; sir … if we can save any。'
'And you want more to eat with it?'
'Yes; sir。' With a very anxious face。
The questioner; in the kindness of his heart; appears a little
discomposed; and changes the subject。
'What has become of the old man who used to lie in that bed in the
corner?'
The nurse don't remember what old man is referred to。 There has
been such a many old men。 The well…spoken old man is doubtful。
The spectral old man who has come to life in bed; says; 'Billy
Stevens。' Another old man who has previously had his head in the
fireplace; pipes out;
'Charley Walters。'
Something like a feeble interest is awakened。 I suppose Charley
Walters had conversation in him。
'He's dead;' says the piping old man。
Another old man; with one eye screwed up; hastily displaces the
piping old man; and says。
'Yes! Charley Walters died in that bed; and … and … '
'Billy Stevens;' persists the spectral old man。
'No; no! and Johnny Rogers died in that bed; and … and … they're
both on 'em dead … and Sam'l Bowyer;' this seems very extraordinary
to him; 'he went out!'
With this he subsides; and all the old men (having had quite enough
of it) subside; and the spectral old man goes into his grave again;
and takes the shade of Billy Stevens with him。
As we turn to go out at the door; another previously invisible old
man; a hoarse old man in a flannel gown; is standing there; as if
he had just come up through the floor。
'I beg your pardon; sir; could I take the liberty of saying a
word?'
'Yes; what is it?'
'I am greatly better in my health; sir; but what I want; to get me
quite round;' with his hand on his throat; 'is a little fresh air;
sir。 It has always done my complaint so much good; sir。 The
regular leave for going out; comes round so seldom; that if the
gentlemen; next Friday; would give me leave to go out walking; now
and then … for only an hour or so; sir! … '
Who could wonder; looking through those weary vistas of bed and
infirmity; that it should do him good to meet with some other
scenes; and assure himself that there was something else on earth?
Who could help wondering why the old men lived on as they did; what
grasp they had on life; what crumbs of interest or occupation they
could pick up from its bare board; whether Charley Walters had ever
described to them the days when he kept company with some old
pauper woman in the bud; or Billy Stevens ever told them of the
time when he was a dweller in the far…off foreign land called Home!
The morsel of burnt child; lying in another room; so patiently; in
bed; wrapped in lint; and looking steadfastly at us with his bright
quiet eyes when we spoke to him kindly; looked as if the knowledge