Oliver Twist Capitulo II

Alumnos en Extraordinario

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CHAPTER II

TREATS OF OLIVER TWIST'S GROWTH, EDUCATION, AND BOARD

For the next eight or ten months, Oliver was the victim of a systematic course of

treachery and deception. He was brought up by hand. The hungry and destitute

situation of the infant orphan was duly reported by the workhouse authorities to the

parish authorities. The parish authorities inquired with dignity of the workhouse

authorities, whether there was no female then domiciled in 'the house' who was in a

situation to impart to Oliver Twist, the consolation and nourishment of which he stood

in need. The workhouse authorities replied with humility, that there was not. Upon

this, the parish authorities magnanimously and humanely resolved, that Oliver should be

'farmed,' or, in other words, that he should be dispatched to a branch-workhouse some

three miles off, where twenty or thirty other juvenile offenders against the poor-laws,

rolled about the floor all day, without the inconvenience of too much food or too much

clothing, under the parental superintendence of an elderly female, who received the

culprits at and for the consideration of sevenpence-halfpenny per small head per week.

Sevenpence-halfpenny's worth per week is a good round diet for a child; a great deal

may be got for sevenpence-halfpenny, quite enough to overload its stomach, and make

it uncomfortable. The elderly female was a woman of wisdom and experience; she knew

what was good for children; and she had a very accurate perception of what was good

for herself. So, she appropriated the greater part of the weekly stipend to her own use,

and consigned the rising parochial generation to even a shorter allowance than was

originally provided for them. Thereby finding in the lowest depth a deeper still; and

proving herself a very great experimental philosopher.

Everybody knows the story of another experimental philosopher who had a great theory

about a horse being able to live without eating, and who demonstrated it so well, that he

had got his own horse down to a straw a day, and would unquestionably have rendered

him a very spirited and rampacious animal on nothing at all, if he had not died, fourand-

twenty hours before he was to have had his first comfortable bait of air.

Unfortunately for, the experimenal philosophy of the female to whose protecting care

Oliver Twist was delivered over, a similar result usually attended the operation of HER

system; for at the very moment when the child had contrived to exist upon the smallest

possible portion of the weakest possible food, it did perversely happen in eight and a

half cases out of ten, either that it sickened from want and cold, or fell into the fire from

neglect, or got half-smothered by accident; in any one of which cases, the miserable

little being was usually summoned into another world, and there gathered to the fathers

it had never known in this.

Occasionally, when there was some more than usually interesting inquest upon a parish

child who had been overlooked in turning up a bedstead, or inadvertently scalded to

death when there happened to be a washing--though the latter accident was very scarce,

anything approaching to a washing being of rare occurance in the farm--the jury would

take it into their heads to ask troublesome questions, or the parishioners would

rebelliously affix their signatures to a remonstrance. But these impertinences were

speedily checked by the evidence of the surgeon, and the testimony of the beadle; the

former of whom had always opened the body and found nothing inside (which was very

probable indeed), and the latter of whom invariably swore whatever the parish wanted;

which was very self-devotional. Besides, the board made periodical pilgrimages to the

farm, and always sent the beadle the day before, to say they were going. The children

were neat and clean to behold, when THEY went; and what more would the people

have!

It cannot be expected that this system of farming would produce any very extraordinary

or luxuriant crop. Oliver Twist's ninth birthday found him a pale thin child, somewhat

diminutive in stature, and decidely small in circumference. But nature or inheritance

had implanted a good sturdy spirit in Oliver's breast. It had had plenty of room to

expand, thanks to the spare diet of the establishment; and perhaps to this circumstance

may be attributed his having any ninth birth-day at all. Be this as it may, however, it

was his ninth birthday; and he was keeping it in the coal-cellar with a select party of two

other young gentleman, who, after participating with him in a sound thrashing, had been

locked up for atrociously presuming to be hungry, when Mrs. Mann, the good lady of

the house, was unexpectedly startled by the apparition of Mr. Bumble, the beadle,

striving to undo the wicket of the garden-gate.

'Goodness gracious! Is that you, Mr. Bumble, sir?' said Mrs. Mann, thrusting her head

out of the window in well-affected ecstasies of joy. '(Susan, take Oliver and them two

brats upstairs, and wash 'em directly.)--My heart alive! Mr. Bumble, how glad I am to

see you, sure-ly!'

Now, Mr. Bumble was a fat man, and a choleric; so, instead of responding to this openhearted

salutation in a kindred spirit, he gave the little wicket a tremendous shake, and

then bestowed upon it a kick which could have emanated from no leg but a beadle's.

'Lor, only think,' said Mrs. Mann, running out,--for the three boys had been removed by

this time,--'only think of that! That I should have forgotten that the gate was bolted on

the inside, on account of them dear children! Walk in sir; walk in, pray, Mr. Bumble,

do, sir.'

Although this invitation was accompanied with a curtsey that might have softened the

heart of a church-warden, it by no means mollified the beadle.

'Do you think this respectful or proper conduct, Mrs. Mann,' inquired Mr. Bumble,

grasping his cane, 'to keep the parish officers a waiting at your garden-gate, when they

come here upon porochial business with the porochial orphans? Are you aweer, Mrs.

Mann, that you are, as I may say, a porochial delegate, and a stipendiary?'

'I'm sure Mr. Bumble, that I was only a telling one or two of the dear children as is so

fond of you, that it was you a coming,' replied Mrs. Mann with great humility.

Mr. Bumble had a great idea of his oratorical powers and his importance. He had

displayed the one, and vindicated the other. He relaxed.

'Well, well, Mrs. Mann,' he replied in a calmer tone; 'it may be as you say; it may be.

Lead the way in, Mrs. Mann, for I come on business, and have something to say.'

Mrs. Mann ushered the beadle into a small parlour with a brick floor; placed a seat for

him; and officiously deposited his cocked hat and can on the table before him. Mr.

Bumble wiped from his forehead the perspiration which his walk had engendered,

glanced complacently at the cocked hat, and smiled. Yes, he smiled. Beadles are but

men: and Mr. Bumble smiled.

'Now don't you be offended at what I'm a going to say,' observed Mrs. Mann, with

captivating sweetness. 'You've had a long walk, you know, or I wouldn't mention it.

Now, will you take a little drop of somethink, Mr. Bumble?'

'Not a drop. Nor a drop,' said Mr. Bumble, waving his right hand in a dignified, but

placid manner.

'I think you will,' said Mrs. Mann, who had noticed the tone of the refusal, and the

gesture that had accompanied it. 'Just a leetle drop, with a little cold water, and a lump

of sugar.'

Mr. Bumble coughed.

'Now, just a leetle drop,' said Mrs. Mann persuasively.

'What is it?' inquired the beadle.

'Why, it's what I'm obliged to keep a little of in the house, to put into the blessed infants'

Daffy, when they ain't well, Mr. Bumble,' replied Mrs. Mann as she opened a corner

cupboard, and took down a bottle and glass. 'It's gin. I'll not deceive you, Mr. B. It's

gin.'

'Do you give the children Daffy, Mrs. Mann?' inquired Bumble, following with this eyes

the interesting process of mixing.

'Ah, bless 'em, that I do, dear as it is,' replied the nurse. 'I couldn't see 'em suffer before

my very eyes, you know sir.'

'No'; said Mr. Bumble approvingly; 'no, you could not. You are a humane woman, Mrs.

Mann.' (Here she set down the glass.) 'I shall take a early opportunity of mentioning it

to the board, Mrs. Mann.' (He drew it towards him.) 'You feel as a mother, Mrs. Mann.'

(He stirred the gin-and-water.) 'I--I drink your health with cheerfulness, Mrs. Mann';

and he swallowed half of it.

'And now about business,' said the beadle, taking out a leathern pocket-book. 'The child

that was half-baptized Oliver Twist, is nine year old to-day.;

'Bless him!' interposed Mrs. Mann, inflaming her left eye with the corner of her apron.

'And notwithstanding a offered reward of ten pound, which was afterwards increased to

twenty pound. Notwithstanding the most superlative, and, I may say, supernat'ral

exertions on the part of this parish,' said Bumble, 'we have never been able to discover

who is his father, or what was his mother's settlement, name, or con--dition.'

Mrs Mann raised her hands in astonishment; but added, after a moment's reflection,

'How comes he to have any name at all, then?'

The beadle drew himself up with great pride, and said, 'I inwented it.'

'You, Mr. Bumble!'

'I, Mrs. Mann. We name our fondlings in alphabetical order. The last was a S,--

Swubble, I named him. This was a T,--Twist, I named HIM. The next one comes will

be Unwin, and the next Vilkins. I have got names ready made to the end of the

alphabet, and all the way through it again, when we come to Z.'

'Why, you're quite a literary character, sir!' said Mrs. Mann.

'Well, well,' said the beadle, evidently gratified with the compliment; 'perhaps I may be.

Perhaps I may be, Mrs. Mann.' He finished the gin-and-water, and added, 'Oliver being

now too old to remain here, the board have determined to have him back into the house.

I have come out myself to take him there. So let me see him at once.'

'I'll fetch him directly,' said Mrs. Mann, leaving the room for that purpose. Oliver,

having had by this time as much of the outer coat of dirt which encrusted his face and

hands, removed, as could be scrubbed off in one washing, was led into the room by his

benevolent protectress.

'Make a bow to the gentleman, Oliver,' said Mrs. Mann.

Oliver made a bow, which was divided between the beadle on the chair, and the cocked

hat on the table.

'Will you go along with me, Oliver?' said Mr. Bumble, in a majestic voice.

Oliver was about to say that he would go along with anybody with great readiness,

when, glancing upward, he caught sight of Mrs. Mann, who had got behind the beadle's

chair, and was shaking her fist at him with a furious countenance. He took the hint at

once, for the fist had been too often impressed upon his body not to be deeply impressed

upon his recollection.

'Will she go with me?' inquired poor Oliver.

'No, she can't,' replied Mr. Bumble. 'But she'll come and see you sometimes.'

This was no very great consolation to the child. Young as he was, however, he had

sense enough to make a feint of feeling great regret at going away. It was no very

difficult matter for the boy to call tears into his eyes. Hunger and recent ill-usage are

great assistants if you want to cry; and Oliver cried very naturally indeed. Mrs. Mann

gave him a thousand embraces, and what Oliver wanted a great deal more, a piece of

bread and butter, less he should seem too hungry when he got to the workhouse. With

the slice of bread in his hand, and the little brown-cloth parish cap on his head, Oliver

was then led away by Mr. Bumble from the wretched home where one kind word or

look had never lighted the gloom of his infant years. And yet he burst into an agony of

childish grief, as the cottage-gate closed after him. Wretched as were

companions in misery he was leaving behind, they were the only friends he had ever

known; and a sense of his loneliness in the great wide world, sank into the child's heart

for the first time.

Mr. Bumble walked on with long strides; little Oliver, firmly grasping his gold-laced

cuff, trotted beside him, inquiring at the end of every quarter of a mile whether they

were 'nearly there.' To these interrogations Mr. Bumble returned very brief and snappish

replies; for the temporary blandness which gin-and-water awakens in some bosoms had

by this time evaporated; and he was once again a beadle.

Oliver had not been within the walls of the workhouse a quarter of an hour, and had

scarcely completed the demolition of a second slice of bread, when Mr. Bumble, who

had handed him over to the care of an old woman, returned; and, telling him it was a

board night, informed him that the board had said he was to appear before it forthwith.

Not having a very clearly defined notion of what a live board was, Oliver was rather

astounded by this intelligence, and was not quite certain whether he ought to laugh or

cry. He had no time to think about the matter, however; for Mr. Bumble gave him a tap

on the head, with his cane, to wake him up: and another on the back to make him lively:

and bidding him to follow, conducted him into a large white-washed room, where eight

or ten fat gentlemen were sitting round a table. At the top of the table, seated in an armchair

rather higher than the rest, was a particularly fat gentleman with a very round, red

face.

'Bow to the board,' said Bumble. Oliver brushed away two or three tears that were

lingering in his eyes; and seeing no board but the table, fortunately bowed to that.

'What's your name, boy?' said the gentleman in the high chair.

Oliver was frightened at the sight of so many gentlemen, which made him tremble: and

the beadle gave him another tap behind, which made him cry. These two causes made

him answer in a very low and hesitating voice; whereupon a gentleman in a white

waistcoat said he was a fool. Which was a capital way of raising his spirits, and putting

him quite at his ease.

'Boy,' said the gentleman in the high chair, 'listen to me. You know you're an orphan, I

suppose?'

'What's that, sir?' inquired poor Oliver.

'The boy IS a fool--I thought he was,' said the gentleman in the white waistcoat.

'Hush!' said the gentleman who had spoken first. 'You know you've got no father or

mother, and that you were brought up by the parish, don't you?'

'Yes, sir,' replied Oliver, weeping bitterly.

'What are you crying for?' inquired the gentleman in the white waistcoat. And to be

sure it was very extraordinary. What COULD the boy be crying for?

'I hope you say your prayers every night,' said another gentleman in a gruff voice; 'and

pray for the people who feed you, and take care of you--like a Christian.'

'Yes, sir,' stammered the boy. The gentleman who spoke last was unconsciously right.

It would have been very like a Christian, and a marvellously good Christian too, if

Oliver had prayed for the people who fed and took care of HIM. But he hadn't, because

nobody had taught him.

'Well! You have come here to be educated, and taught a useful trade,' said the red-faced

gentleman in the high chair.

'So you'll begin to pick oakum to-morrow morning at six o'clock,' added the surly one in

the white waistcoat.

For the combination of both these blessings in the one simple process of picking oakum,

Oliver bowed low by the direction of the beadle, and was then hurried away to a large

ward; where, on a rough, hard bed, he sobbed himself to sleep. What a novel

illustration of the tender laws of England! They let the paupers go to sleep!

Poor Oliver! He little thought, as he lay sleeping in happy unconsciousness of all

around him, that the board had that very day arrived at a decision which would exercise

the most material influence over all his future fortunes. But they had. And this was it:

The members of this board were very sage, deep, philosophical men; and when they

came to turn their attention to the workhouse, they found out at once, what ordinary

folks would nver have discovered--the poor people liked it! It was a regular place of

public entertainment for the poorer classes; a tavern where there was nothing to pay; a

public breakfast, dinner, tea, and supper all the year round; a brick and mortar elysium,

where it was all play and no work. 'Oho!' said the board, looking very knowing;

'we are the fellows to set this to rights; we'll stop it all, in no time.' So, they established

the rule, that all poor people should have the alternative (for they would compel

nobody, not they), of being starved by a gradual process in the house, or by a quick one

out of it. With this view, they contracted with the water-works to lay on an unlimited

supply of water; and with a corn-factor to supply periodically small quantities of

oatmeal; and issued three meals of thin gruel a day, with an onion twice a week, and

half a roll of Sundays. They made a great many other wise and humane regulations,

having reference to the ladies, which it is not necessary to repeat; kindly undertook to

divorce poor married people, in consequence of the great expense of a suit in Doctors'

Commons; and, instead of compelling a man to support his family, as they had

theretofore done, took his family away from him, and made him a bachelor! There is no

saying how many applicants for relief, under these last two heads, might have started up

in all classes of society, if it had not been coupled with the workhouse; but the board

were long-headed men, and had provided for this difficulty. The relief was inseparable

from the workhouse and the gruel; and that frightened people.

For the first six months after Oliver Twist was removed, the system was in full

operation. It was rather expensive at first, in consequence of the increase in the

undertaker's bill, and the necessity of taking in the clothes of all the paupers, which

fluttered loosely on their wasted, shrunken forms, after a week or two's gruel. But the

number of workhouse inmates got thin as well as the paupers; and the board were in

ecstasies.

The room in which the boys were fed, was a large stone hall, with a copper at one end:

out of which the master, dressed in an apron for the purpose, and assisted by one or two

women, ladled the gruel at mealtimes. Of this festive composition each boy had one

porringer, and no more--except on occasions of great public rejoicing, when he had two

ounces and a quarter of bread besides.

The bowls never wanted washing. The boys polished them with their spoons till they

shone again; and when they had performed this operation (which never took very long,

the spoons being nearly as large as the bowls), they would sit staring at the copper, with

such eager eyes, as if they could have devoured the very bricks of which it was

composed; employing themselves, meanwhile, in sucking their fingers most

assiduously, with the view of catching up any stray splashes of gruel that might have

been cast thereon. Boys have generally excellent appetites. Oliver Twist and his

companions suffered the tortures of slow starvation for three months: at last they got so

voracious and wild with hunger, that one boy, who was tall for his age, and hadn't been

used to that sort of thing (for his father had kept a small cook-shop), hinted darkly to his

companions, that unless he had another basin of gruel per diem, he was afraid he might

some night happen to eat the boy who slept next him, who happened to be a weakly

youth of tender age. He had a wild, hungry eye; and they implicitly believed him. A

council was held; lots were cast who should walk up to the master after supper that

evening, and ask for more; and it fell to Oliver Twist.

The evening arrived; the boys took their places. The master, in his cook's uniform,

stationed himself at the copper; his pauper assistants ranged themselves behind him; the

gruel was served out; and a long grace was said over the short commons. The gruel

disappeared; the boys whispered each other, and winked at Oliver; while his next

neighbours nudged him. Child as he was, he was desperate with hunger, and reckless

with misery. He rose from the table; and advancing to the master, basin and spoon in

hand, said: somewhat alarmed at his own temerity:

'Please, sir, I want some more.'

The master was a fat, healthy man; but he turned very pale. He gazed in stupified

astonishment on the small rebel for some seconds, and then clung for support to the

copper. The assistants were paralysed with wonder; the boys with fear.

'What!' said the master at length, in a faint voice.

'Please, sir,' replied Oliver, 'I want some more.'

The master aimed a blow at Oliver's head with the ladle; pinioned him in his arm; and

shrieked aloud for the beadle.

The board were sitting in solemn conclave, when Mr. Bumble rushed

into the room in great excitement, and addressing the gentleman

in the high chair, said,

'Mr. Limbkins, I beg your pardon, sir! Oliver Twist has asked for more!'

There was a general start. Horror was depicted on every countenance.

'For MORE!' said Mr. Limbkins. 'Compose yourself, Bumble, and answer me

distinctly. Do I understand that he asked for more, after he had eaten the supper allotted

by the dietary?'

'He did, sir,' replied Bumble.

'That boy will be hung,' said the gentleman in the white waistcoat. 'I know that boy will

be hung.'

Nobody controverted the prophetic gentleman's opinion. An animated discussion took

place. Oliver was ordered into instant confinement; and a bill was next morning pasted

on the outside of the gate, offering a reward of five pounds to anybody who would take

Oliver Twist off the hands of the parish. In other words, five pounds and Oliver Twist

were offered to any man or woman who wanted an apprentice to any trade, business, or

calling.

'I never was more convinced of anything in my life,' said the gentleman in the white

waistcoat, as he knocked at the gate and read the bill next morning: 'I never was more

convinced of anything in my life, than I am that that boy will come to be hung.'

As I purpose to show in the sequel whether the white waistcoated gentleman was right

or not, I should perhaps mar the interest of this narrative (supposing it to possess any at

all), if I ventured to hint just yet, whether the life of Oliver Twist had this violent

termination or no.