Bildungsromans; Boys -- Fiction; Criminals -- Fiction; Kidnapping victims -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction; Orphans -- Fiction
Let it not be supposed by the enemies of “the system,” that, during the
period of his solitary incarceration, Oliver was denied the benefit
of exercise, the pleasure of society, or the advantages of religious
consolation. As for exercise, it was nice cold weather, and he was
allowed to perform his ablutions every morning under the pump, in a
stone yard, in the presence of Mr. Bumble, who prevented his catching
cold, and caused a tingling sensation to pervade his frame, by repeated
applications of the cane; as for society, he was carried every other
day into the hall where the boys dined, and there sociably flogged as a
public warning and example; and so far from being denied the advantages
of religious consolation, he was kicked into the same apartment every
evening at prayer-time, and there permitted to listen to, and console
his mind with, a general supplication of the boys, containing a special
clause therein inserted by authority of the board, in which they
entreated to be made good, virtuous, contented, and obedient, and to be
guarded from the sins and vices of Oliver Twist, whom the supplication
distinctly set forth to be under the exclusive patronage and protection
of the powers of wickedness, and an article direct from the manufactory
of the devil himself.
It chanced one morning, while Oliver’s affairs were in this auspicious
and comfortable state, that Mr. Gamfield, chimney-sweeper, was wending
his way adown the High-street, deeply cogitating in his mind his ways
and means of paying certain arrears of rent, for which his landlord
had become rather pressing. Mr. Gamfield’s most sanguine calculation
of funds could not raise them within full five pounds of the desired
amount; and, in a species of arithmetical desperation, he was
alternately cudgelling his brains and his donkey, when, passing the
workhouse, his eyes encountered the bill on the gate.
“Wo—o!” said Mr. Gamfield to the donkey.
The donkey was in a state of profound abstraction,—wondering,
probably, whether he was destined to be regaled with a cabbage-stalk
or two, when he had disposed of the two sacks of soot with which the
little cart was laden; so, without noticing the word of command, he
jogged onwards.
Mr. Gamfield growled a fierce imprecation on the donkey generally,
but more particularly on his eyes; and, running after him, bestowed a
blow on his head, which would inevitably have beaten in any skull but
a donkey’s; then, catching hold of the bridle, he gave his jaw a sharp
wrench, by way of gentle reminder that he was not his own master: and,
having by these means turned him round, he gave him another blow on the
head, just to stun him till he came back again; and having done so,
walked up to the gate to read the bill.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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