English
Oliver,beinglefttohimselfintheundertaker’sshop,setthelampdownonaworkman’sbench,andgazedtimidlyabouthimwithafeelingofaweanddread,whichmanypeopleagooddealolderthanhewillbeatnolosstounderstand.
Anunfinishedcoffinonblacktressels,whichstoodinthemiddleoftheshop,lookedsogloomyanddeath-likethatacoldtremblecameoverhim,everytimehiseyeswanderedinthedirectionofthedismalobject:fromwhichhealmostexpectedtoseesomefrightfulformslowlyrearitshead,todrivehimmadwithterror.
Againstthewallwereranged,inregulararray,alongrowofelmboardscutinthesameshape:lookinginthedimlight,likehigh-shoulderedghostswiththeirhandsintheirbreechespockets.
Coffin-plates,elm-chips,bright-headednails,andshredsofblackcloth,layscatteredonthefloor;andthewallbehindthecounterwasornamentedwithalivelyrepresentationoftwomutesinverystiffneckcloths,ondutyatalargeprivatedoor,withahearsedrawnbyfourblacksteeds,approachinginthedistance.Theshopwascloseandhot.
Theatmosphereseemedtaintedwiththesmellofcoffins.
Therecessbeneaththecounterinwhichhisflockmattresswasthrust,lookedlikeagrave.
NorwerethesetheonlydismalfeelingswhichdepressedOliver.
Hewasaloneinastrangeplace;andweallknowhowchilledanddesolatethebestofuswillsometimesfeelinsuchasituation.
Theboyhadnofriendstocarefor,ortocareforhim.
Theregretofnorecentseparationwasfreshinhismind;theabsenceofnolovedandwell-rememberedfacesankheavilyintohisheart.
Buthisheartwasheavy,notwithstanding;andhewished,ashecreptintohisnarrowbed,thatthatwerehiscoffin,andthathecouldbelaininacalmandlastingsleepinthechurchyardground,withthetallgrasswavinggentlyabovehishead,andthesoundoftheolddeepbelltosoothehiminhissleep.
Oliverwasawakenedinthemorning,byaloudkickingattheoutsideoftheshop-door:which,beforehecouldhuddleonhisclothes,wasrepeated,inanangryandimpetuousmanner,abouttwenty-fivetimes.
Whenhebegantoundothechain,thelegsdesisted,andavoicebegan.
‘Openthedoor,willyer?’criedthevoicewhichbelongedtothelegswhichhadkickedatthedoor.
‘Iwill,directly,sir,’repliedOliver:undoingthechain,andturningthekey.
‘Isupposeyerthenewboy,ain’tyer?’saidthevoicethroughthekey-hole.
‘Yes,sir,’repliedOliver.
‘Howoldareyer?’inquiredthevoice.
‘Ten,sir,’repliedOliver.
‘ThenI’llwhopyerwhenIgetin,’saidthevoice;‘youjustseeifIdon’t,that’sall,mywork’usbrat!’andhavingmadethisobligingpromise,thevoicebegantowhistle.
Oliverhadbeentoooftensubjectedtotheprocesstowhichtheveryexpressivemonosyllablejustrecordedbearsreference,toentertainthesmallestdoubtthattheownerofthevoice,whoeverhemightbe,wouldredeemhispledge,mosthonourably.
Hedrewbacktheboltswithatremblinghand,andopenedthedoor.
Forasecondortwo,Oliverglancedupthestreet,anddownthestreet,andovertheway:impressedwiththebeliefthattheunknown,whohadaddressedhimthroughthekey-hole,hadwalkedafewpacesoff,towarmhimself;fornobodydidheseebutabigcharity-boy,sittingonapostinfrontofthehouse,eatingasliceofbreadandbutter:whichhecutintowedges,thesizeofhismouth,withaclasp-knife,andthenconsumedwithgreatdexterity.
‘Ibegyourpardon,sir,’saidOliveratlength:seeingthatnoothervisitormadehisappearance;‘didyouknock?’
‘Ikicked,’repliedthecharity-boy.
‘Didyouwantacoffin,sir?’inquiredOliver,innocently.
Atthis,thecharity-boylookedmonstrousfierce;andsaidthatOliverwouldwantonebeforelong,ifhecutjokeswithhissuperiorsinthatway.
‘Yerdon’tknowwhoIam,Isuppose,Work’us?’saidthecharity-boy,incontinuation:descendingfromthetopofthepost,meanwhile,withedifyinggravity.
‘No,sir,’rejoinedOliver.
‘I’mMisterNoahClaypole,’saidthecharity-boy,‘andyou’reunderme.
Takedowntheshutters,yeridleyoungruffian!’
Withthis,Mr.ClaypoleadministeredakicktoOliver,andenteredtheshopwithadignifiedair,whichdidhimgreatcredit.
Itisdifficultforalarge-headed,small-eyedyouth,oflumberingmakeandheavycountenance,tolookdignifiedunderanycircumstances;butitismoreespeciallyso,whensuperaddedtothesepersonalattractionsarearednoseandyellowsmalls.
Oliver,havingtakendowntheshutters,andbrokenapaneofglassinhisefforttostaggerawaybeneaththeweightofthefirstonetoasmallcourtatthesideofthehouseinwhichtheywerekeptduringtheday,wasgraciouslyassistedbyNoah:whohavingconsoledhimwiththeassurancethat‘he’dcatchit,’condescendedtohelphim.Mr.Sowerberrycamedownsoonafter.
Shortlyafterwards,Mrs.Sowerberryappeared.
Oliverhaving‘caughtit,’infulfilmentofNoah’sprediction,followedthatyounggentlemandownthestairstobreakfast.
‘Comenearthefire,Noah,’saidCharlotte.
‘Isavedanicelittlebitofbaconforyoufrommaster’sbreakfast.
Oliver,shutthatdooratMisterNoah’sback,andtakethembitsthatI’veputoutonthecoverofthebread-pan.
There’syourtea;takeitawaytothatbox,anddrinkitthere,andmakehaste,forthey’llwantyoutomindtheshop.D’yehear?’
‘D’yehear,Work’us?’saidNoahClaypole.
‘Lor,Noah!’saidCharlotte,‘whatarumcreatureyouare!Whydon’tyoulettheboyalone?’
‘Lethimalone!’saidNoah.
‘Whyeverybodyletshimaloneenough,forthematterofthat.
Neitherhisfathernorhismotherwilleverinterferewithhim.
Allhisrelationslethimhavehisownwayprettywell.Eh,Charlotte?He!he!he!’
‘Oh,youqueersoul!’saidCharlotte,burstingintoaheartylaugh,inwhichshewasjoinedbyNoah;afterwhichtheybothlookedscornfullyatpoorOliverTwist,ashesatshiveringontheboxinthecoldestcorneroftheroom,andatethestalepieceswhichhadbeenspeciallyreservedforhim.
Noahwasacharity-boy,butnotaworkhouseorphan.
Nochance-childwashe,forhecouldtracehisgenealogyallthewaybacktohisparents,wholivedhardby;hismotherbeingawasherwoman,andhisfatheradrunkensoldier,dischargedwithawoodenleg,andadiurnalpensionoftwopence-halfpennyandanunstateablefraction.
Theshop-boysintheneighbourhoodhadlongbeeninthehabitofbrandingNoahinthepublicstreets,withtheignominiousepithetsof‘leathers,’‘charity,’andthelike;andNoahhadbournethemwithoutreply.
But,nowthatfortunehadcastinhiswayanamelessorphan,atwhomeventhemeanestcouldpointthefingerofscorn,heretortedonhimwithinterest.
Thisaffordscharmingfoodforcontemplation.
Itshowsuswhatabeautifulthinghumannaturemaybemadetobe;andhowimpartiallythesameamiablequalitiesaredevelopedinthefinestlordandthedirtiestcharity-boy.
Oliverhadbeensojourningattheundertaker’ssomethreeweeksoramonth.
Mr.andMrs.Sowerberry—theshopbeingshutup—weretakingtheirsupperinthelittleback-parlour,whenMr.Sowerberry,afterseveraldeferentialglancesathiswife,said,
‘Mydear—’Hewasgoingtosaymore;but,Mrs.Sowerberrylookingup,withapeculiarlyunpropitiousaspect,hestoppedshort.
‘Well,’saidMrs.Sowerberry,sharply.
‘Nothing,mydear,nothing,’saidMr.Sowerberry.
‘Ugh,youbrute!’saidMrs.Sowerberry.
‘Notatall,mydear,’saidMr.Sowerberryhumbly.‘Ithoughtyoudidn’twanttohear,mydear.Iwasonlygoingtosay—’
‘Oh,don’ttellmewhatyouweregoingtosay,’interposedMrs.Sowerberry.‘Iamnobody;don’tconsultme,pray.
Idon’twanttointrudeuponyoursecrets.’
AsMrs.Sowerberrysaidthis,shegaveanhystericallaugh,whichthreatenedviolentconsequences.
‘But,mydear,’saidSowerberry,‘Iwanttoaskyouradvice.’
‘No,no,don’taskmine,’repliedMrs.Sowerberry,inanaffectingmanner:‘asksomebodyelse’s.’
Here,therewasanotherhystericallaugh,whichfrightenedMr.Sowerberryverymuch.
Thisisaverycommonandmuch-approvedmatrimonialcourseoftreatment,whichisoftenveryeffective.
ItatoncereducedMr.Sowerberrytobegging,asaspecialfavour,tobeallowedtosaywhatMrs.Sowerberrywasmostcurioustohear.
Afterashortduration,thepermissionwasmostgraciouslyconceded.
‘It’sonlyaboutyoungTwist,mydear,’saidMr.Sowerberry.‘Averygood-lookingboy,that,mydear.’
‘Heneedbe,forheeatsenough,’observedthelady.
‘There’sanexpressionofmelancholyinhisface,mydear,’resumedMr.Sowerberry,‘whichisveryinteresting.Hewouldmakeadelightfulmute,mylove.’
Mrs.Sowerberrylookedupwithanexpressionofconsiderablewonderment.Mr.Sowerberryremarkeditand,withoutallowingtimeforanyobservationonthegoodlady’spart,proceeded.
‘Idon’tmeanaregularmutetoattendgrown-uppeople,mydear,butonlyforchildren’spractice.
Itwouldbeverynewtohaveamuteinproportion,mydear.
Youmaydependuponit,itwouldhaveasuperbeffect.’
Mrs.Sowerberry,whohadagooddealoftasteintheundertakingway,wasmuchstruckbythenoveltyofthisidea;but,asitwouldhavebeencompromisingherdignitytohavesaidso,underexistingcircumstances,shemerelyinquired,withmuchsharpness,whysuchanobvioussuggestionhadnotpresenteditselftoherhusband’smindbefore?
Mr.Sowerberryrightlyconstruedthis,asanacquiescenceinhisproposition;itwasspeedilydetermined,therefore,thatOlivershouldbeatonceinitiatedintothemysteriesofthetrade;and,withthisview,thatheshouldaccompanyhismasterontheverynextoccasionofhisservicesbeingrequired.
Theoccasionwasnotlongincoming.Halfanhourafterbreakfastnextmorning,Mr.Bumbleenteredtheshop;andsupportinghiscaneagainstthecounter,drewforthhislargeleathernpocket-book:fromwhichheselectedasmallscrapofpaper,whichhehandedovertoSowerberry.
‘Aha!’saidtheundertaker,glancingoveritwithalivelycountenance;‘anorderforacoffin,eh?’
‘Foracoffinfirst,andaporochialfuneralafterwards,’repliedMr.Bumble,fasteningthestrapoftheleathernpocket-book:which,likehimself,wasverycorpulent.
‘Bayton,’saidtheundertaker,lookingfromthescrapofpapertoMr.Bumble.‘Ineverheardthenamebefore.’
Bumbleshookhishead,ashereplied,‘Obstinatepeople,Mr.Sowerberry;veryobstinate.Proud,too,I’mafraid,sir.’
‘Proud,eh?’exclaimedMr.Sowerberrywithasneer.‘Come,that’stoomuch.’
‘Oh,it’ssickening,’repliedthebeadle.‘Antimonial,Mr.Sowerberry!’
‘Soitis,’acquiescedtheundertaker.
‘Weonlyheardofthefamilythenightbeforelast,’saidthebeadle;‘andweshouldn’thaveknownanythingaboutthem,then,onlyawomanwholodgesinthesamehousemadeanapplicationtotheporochialcommitteeforthemtosendtheporochialsurgeontoseeawomanaswasverybad.
Hehadgoneouttodinner;buthis‘prentice(whichisaverycleverlad)sent‘emsomemedicineinablacking-bottle,offhand.’
‘Ah,there’spromptness,’saidtheundertaker.
‘Promptness,indeed!’repliedthebeadle.
‘Butwhat’stheconsequence;what’stheungratefulbehaviouroftheserebels,sir?
Why,thehusbandsendsbackwordthatthemedicinewon’tsuithiswife’scomplaint,andsosheshan’ttakeit—sayssheshan’ttakeit,sir!
Good,strong,wholesomemedicine,aswasgivenwithgreatsuccesstotwoIrishlabourersandacoal-heaver,onlyaweekbefore—sent‘emfornothing,withablackin’-bottlein,—andhesendsbackwordthatsheshan’ttakeit,sir!’
AstheatrocitypresenteditselftoMr.Bumble’smindinfullforce,hestruckthecountersharplywithhiscane,andbecameflushedwithindignation.
‘Well,’saidtheundertaker,‘Ine—ver—did—’
‘Neverdid,sir!’ejaculatedthebeadle.‘No,nornobodyneverdid;butnowshe’sdead,we’vegottoburyher;andthat’sthedirection;andthesoonerit’sdone,thebetter.’
Thussaying,Mr.Bumbleputonhiscockedhatwrongsidefirst,inafeverofparochialexcitement;andflouncedoutoftheshop.
‘Why,hewassoangry,Oliver,thatheforgoteventoaskafteryou!’saidMr.Sowerberry,lookingafterthebeadleashestrodedownthestreet.
‘Yes,sir,’repliedOliver,whohadcarefullykepthimselfoutofsight,duringtheinterview;andwhowasshakingfromheadtofootatthemererecollectionofthesoundofMr.Bumble’svoice.
Heneedn’thaventakenthetroubletoshrinkfromMr.Bumble’sglance,however;forthatfunctionary,onwhomthepredictionofthegentlemaninthewhitewaistcoathadmadeaverystrongimpression,thoughtthatnowtheundertakerhadgotOliverupontrialthesubjectwasbetteravoided,untilsuchtimeasheshouldbefirmlyboundforsevenyears,andalldangerofhisbeingreturneduponthehandsoftheparishshouldbethuseffectuallyandlegallyovercome.
‘Well,’saidMr.Sowerberry,takinguphishat,‘thesoonerthisjobisdone,thebetter.Noah,lookaftertheshop.
Oliver,putonyourcap,andcomewithme.’
Oliverobeyed,andfollowedhismasteronhisprofessionalmission.
Theywalkedon,forsometime,throughthemostcrowdedanddenselyinhabitedpartofthetown;andthen,strikingdownanarrowstreetmoredirtyandmiserablethananytheyhadyetpassedthrough,pausedtolookforthehousewhichwastheobjectoftheirsearch.
Thehousesoneithersidewerehighandlarge,butveryold,andtenantedbypeopleofthepoorestclass:astheirneglectedappearancewouldhavesufficientlydenoted,withouttheconcurrenttestimonyaffordedbythesqualidlooksofthefewmenandwomenwho,withfoldedarmsandbodieshalfdoubled,occasionallyskulkedalong.
Agreatmanyofthetenementshadshop-fronts;butthesewerefastclosed,andmoulderingaway;onlytheupperroomsbeinginhabited.
Somehouseswhichhadbecomeinsecurefromageanddecay,werepreventedfromfallingintothestreet,byhugebeamsofwoodrearedagainstthewalls,andfirmlyplantedintheroad;buteventhesecrazydensseemedtohavebeenselectedasthenightlyhauntsofsomehouselesswretches,formanyoftheroughboardswhichsuppliedtheplaceofdoorandwindow,werewrenchedfromtheirpositions,toaffordanaperturewideenoughforthepassageofahumanbody.
Thekennelwasstagnantandfilthy.
Theveryrats,whichhereandtherelayputrefyinginitsrottenness,werehideouswithfamine.
Therewasneitherknockernorbell-handleattheopendoorwhereOliverandhismasterstopped;so,gropinghiswaycautiouslythroughthedarkpassage,andbiddingOliverkeepclosetohimandnotbeafraidtheundertakermountedtothetopofthefirstflightofstairs.
Stumblingagainstadooronthelanding,herappedatitwithhisknuckles.
Itwasopenedbyayounggirlofthirteenorfourteen.
Theundertakeratoncesawenoughofwhattheroomcontained,toknowitwastheapartmenttowhichhehadbeendirected.Hesteppedin;Oliverfollowedhim.
Therewasnofireintheroom;butamanwascrouching,mechanically,overtheemptystove.
Anoldwoman,too,haddrawnalowstooltothecoldhearth,andwassittingbesidehim.
Thereweresomeraggedchildreninanothercorner;andinasmallrecess,oppositethedoor,therelayupontheground,somethingcoveredwithanoldblanket.
Olivershudderedashecasthiseyestowardtheplace,andcreptinvoluntarilyclosertohismaster;forthoughitwascoveredup,theboyfeltthatitwasacorpse.
Theman’sfacewasthinandverypale;hishairandbeardweregrizzly;hiseyeswerebloodshot.
Theoldwoman’sfacewaswrinkled;hertworemainingteethprotrudedoverherunderlip;andhereyeswerebrightandpiercing.
Oliverwasafraidtolookateitherherortheman.
Theyseemedsoliketheratshehadseenoutside.
‘Nobodyshallgonearher,’saidtheman,startingfiercelyup,astheundertakerapproachedtherecess.‘Keepback!Damnyou,keepback,ifyou’vealifetolose!’
‘Nonsense,mygoodman,’saidtheundertaker,whowasprettywellusedtomiseryinallitsshapes.‘Nonsense!’
‘Itellyou,’saidtheman:clenchinghishands,andstampingfuriouslyonthefloor,—’ItellyouIwon’thaveherputintotheground.Shecouldn’trestthere.
Thewormswouldworryher—noteather—sheissowornaway.’
Theundertakerofferednoreplytothisraving;butproducingatapefromhispocket,kneltdownforamomentbythesideofthebody.
‘Ah!’saidtheman:burstingintotears,andsinkingonhiskneesatthefeetofthedeadwoman;‘kneeldown,kneeldown—kneelroundher,everyoneofyou,andmarkmywords!Isayshewasstarvedtodeath.
Ineverknewhowbadshewas,tillthefevercameuponher;andthenherboneswerestartingthroughtheskin.
Therewasneitherfirenorcandle;shediedinthedark—inthedark!
Shecouldn’tevenseeherchildren’sfaces,thoughweheardhergaspingouttheirnames.
Ibeggedforherinthestreets:andtheysentmetoprison.
WhenIcameback,shewasdying;andallthebloodinmyhearthasdriedup,fortheystarvedhertodeath.IswearitbeforetheGodthatsawit!Theystarvedher!’
Hetwinedhishandsinhishair;and,withaloudscream,rolledgrovellinguponthefloor:hiseyesfixed,andthefoamcoveringhislips.
Theterrifiedchildrencriedbitterly;buttheoldwoman,whohadhithertoremainedasquietasifshehadbeenwhollydeaftoallthatpassed,menacedthemintosilence.
Havingunloosenedthecravatofthemanwhostillremainedextendedontheground,shetotteredtowardstheundertaker.
‘Shewasmydaughter,’saidtheoldwoman,noddingherheadinthedirectionofthecorpse;andspeakingwithanidioticleer,moreghastlythaneventhepresenceofdeathinsuchaplace.‘Lord,Lord!
Well,itisstrangethatIwhogavebirthtoher,andwasawomanthen,shouldbealiveandmerrynow,andshelyingthere:socoldandstiff!Lord,Lord!
—tothinkofit;it’sasgoodasaplay—asgoodasaplay!’
Asthewretchedcreaturemumbledandchuckledinherhideousmerriment,theundertakerturnedtogoaway.
‘Stop,stop!’saidtheoldwomaninaloudwhisper.
‘Willshebeburiedto-morrow,ornextday,orto-night?
Ilaidherout;andImustwalk,youknow.
Sendmealargecloak:agoodwarmone:foritisbittercold.
Weshouldhavecakeandwine,too,beforewego!
Nevermind;sendsomebread—onlyaloafofbreadandacupofwater.Shallwehavesomebread,dear?’
shesaideagerly:catchingattheundertaker’scoat,asheoncemoremovedtowardsthedoor.
‘Yes,yes,’saidtheundertaker,’ofcourse.Anythingyoulike!’Hedisengagedhimselffromtheoldwoman’sgrasp;and,drawingOliverafterhim,hurriedaway.
Thenextday,(thefamilyhavingbeenmeanwhilerelievedwithahalf-quarternloafandapieceofcheese,leftwiththembyMr.Bumblehimself,)Oliverandhismasterreturnedtothemiserableabode;whereMr.Bumblehadalreadyarrived,accompaniedbyfourmenfromtheworkhouse,whoweretoactasbearers.
Anoldblackcloakhadbeenthrownovertheragsoftheoldwomanandtheman;andthebarecoffinhavingbeenscreweddown,washoistedontheshouldersofthebearers,andcarriedintothestreet.
‘Now,youmustputyourbestlegforemost,oldlady!’
whisperedSowerberryintheoldwoman’sear;‘weareratherlate;anditwon’tdo,tokeeptheclergymanwaiting.Moveon,mymen,—asquickasyoulike!’
Thusdirected,thebearerstrottedonundertheirlightburden;andthetwomournerskeptasnearthem,astheycould.
Mr.BumbleandSowerberrywalkedatagoodsmartpaceinfront;andOliver,whoselegswerenotsolongashismaster’s,ranbytheside.
TherewasnotsogreatanecessityforhurryingasMr.Sowerberryhadanticipated,however;forwhentheyreachedtheobscurecornerofthechurchyardinwhichthenettlesgrew,andwheretheparishgravesweremade,theclergymanhadnotarrived;andtheclerk,whowassittingbythevestry-roomfire,seemedtothinkitbynomeansimprobablethatitmightbeanhourorso,beforehecame.
So,theyputthebieronthebrinkofthegrave;andthetwomournerswaitedpatientlyinthedampclay,withacoldraindrizzlingdown,whiletheraggedboyswhomthespectaclehadattractedintothechurchyardplayedanoisygameathide-and-seekamongthetombstones,orvariedtheiramusementsbyjumpingbackwardsandforwardsoverthecoffin.
Mr.SowerberryandBumble,beingpersonalfriendsoftheclerk,satbythefirewithhim,andreadthepaper.
Atlength,afteralapseofsomethingmorethananhour,Mr.Bumble,andSowerberry,andtheclerk,wereseenrunningtowardsthegrave.
Immediatelyafterwards,theclergymanappeared:puttingonhissurpliceashecamealong.
Mr.Bumblethenthrashedaboyortwo,tokeepupappearances;andthereverendgentleman,havingreadasmuchoftheburialserviceascouldbecompressedintofourminutes,gavehissurplicetotheclerk,andwalkedawayagain.
‘Now,Bill!’saidSowerberrytothegrave-digger.‘Fillup!’
Itwasnoverydifficulttask,forthegravewassofull,thattheuppermostcoffinwaswithinafewfeetofthesurface.
Thegrave-diggershovelledintheearth;stampeditlooselydownwithhisfeet:shoulderedhisspade;andwalkedoff,followedbytheboys,whomurmuredveryloudcomplaintsatthefunbeingoversosoon.
‘Come,mygoodfellow!’saidBumble,tappingthemanontheback.‘Theywanttoshutuptheyard.’
Themanwhohadneveroncemoved,sincehehadtakenhisstationbythegraveside,started,raisedhishead,staredatthepersonwhohadaddressedhim,walkedforwardforafewpaces;andfelldowninaswoon.
Thecrazyoldwomanwastoomuchoccupiedinbewailingthelossofhercloak(whichtheundertakerhadtakenoff),topayhimanyattention;sotheythrewacanofcoldwateroverhim;andwhenhecameto,sawhimsafelyoutofthechurchyard,lockedthegate,anddepartedontheirdifferentways.
‘Well,Oliver,’saidSowerberry,astheywalkedhome,‘howdoyoulikeit?’
‘Prettywell,thankyou,sir’repliedOliver,withconsiderablehesitation.‘Notverymuch,sir.’
‘Ah,you’llgetusedtoitintime,Oliver,’saidSowerberry.‘Nothingwhenyouareusedtoit,myboy.’
Oliverwondered,inhisownmind,whetherithadtakenaverylongtimetogetMr.Sowerberryusedtoit.
Buthethoughtitbetternottoaskthequestion;andwalkedbacktotheshop:thinkingoverallhehadseenandheard.
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