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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Оливер Твист
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Oliver Twist
Among
other
public
buildings
in
a
certain
town
,
which
for
many
reasons
it
will
be
prudent
to
refrain
from
mentioning
,
and
to
which
I
will
assign
no
fictitious
name
,
there
is
one
anciently
common
to
most
towns
,
great
or
small
:
to
wit
,
a
workhouse
;
and
in
this
workhouse
was
born
;
on
a
day
and
date
which
I
need
not
trouble
myself
to
repeat
,
inasmuch
as
it
can
be
of
no
possible
consequence
to
the
reader
,
in
this
stage
of
the
business
at
all
events
;
the
item
of
mortality
whose
name
is
prefixed
to
the
head
of
this
chapter
.
For
a
long
time
after
it
was
ushered
into
this
world
of
sorrow
and
trouble
,
by
the
parish
surgeon
,
it
remained
a
matter
of
considerable
doubt
whether
the
child
would
survive
to
bear
any
name
at
all
;
in
which
case
it
is
somewhat
more
than
probable
that
these
memoirs
would
never
have
appeared
;
or
,
if
they
had
,
that
being
comprised
within
a
couple
of
pages
,
they
would
have
possessed
the
inestimable
merit
of
being
the
most
concise
and
faithful
specimen
of
biography
,
extant
in
the
literature
of
any
age
or
country
.
Although
I
am
not
disposed
to
maintain
that
the
being
born
in
a
workhouse
,
is
in
itself
the
most
fortunate
and
enviable
circumstance
that
can
possibly
befall
a
human
being
,
I
do
mean
to
say
that
in
this
particular
instance
,
it
was
the
best
thing
for
Oliver
Twist
that
could
by
possibility
have
occurred
.
The
fact
is
,
that
there
was
considerable
difficulty
in
inducing
Oliver
to
take
upon
himself
the
office
of
respiration
--
a
troublesome
practice
,
but
one
which
custom
has
rendered
necessary
to
our
easy
existence
;
and
for
some
time
he
lay
gasping
on
a
little
flock
mattress
,
rather
unequally
poised
between
this
world
and
the
next
:
the
balance
being
decidedly
in
favour
of
the
latter
.
Now
,
if
,
during
this
brief
period
,
Oliver
had
been
surrounded
by
careful
grandmothers
,
anxious
aunts
,
experienced
nurses
,
and
doctors
of
profound
wisdom
,
he
would
most
inevitably
and
indubitably
have
been
killed
in
no
time
.
There
being
nobody
by
,
however
,
but
a
pauper
old
woman
,
who
was
rendered
rather
misty
by
an
unwonted
allowance
of
beer
;
and
a
parish
surgeon
who
did
such
matters
by
contract
;
Oliver
and
Nature
fought
out
the
point
between
them
.
The
result
was
,
that
,
after
a
few
struggles
,
Oliver
breathed
,
sneezed
,
and
proceeded
to
advertise
to
the
inmates
of
the
workhouse
the
fact
of
a
new
burden
having
been
imposed
upon
the
parish
,
by
setting
up
as
loud
a
cry
as
could
reasonably
have
been
expected
from
a
male
infant
who
had
not
been
possessed
of
that
very
useful
appendage
,
a
voice
,
for
a
much
longer
space
of
time
than
three
minutes
and
a
quarter
.
As
Oliver
gave
this
first
proof
of
the
free
and
proper
action
of
his
lungs
,
the
patchwork
coverlet
which
was
carelessly
flung
over
the
iron
bedstead
,
rustled
;
the
pale
face
of
a
young
woman
was
raised
feebly
from
the
pillow
;
and
a
faint
voice
imperfectly
articulated
the
words
,
'
Let
me
see
the
child
,
and
die
.
'
The
surgeon
had
been
sitting
with
his
face
turned
towards
the
fire
:
giving
the
palms
of
his
hands
a
warm
and
a
rub
alternately
.
As
the
young
woman
spoke
,
he
rose
,
and
advancing
to
the
bed
's
head
,
said
,
with
more
kindness
than
might
have
been
expected
of
him
:
'
Oh
,
you
must
not
talk
about
dying
yet
.
'
'
Lor
bless
her
dear
heart
,
no
!
'
interposed
the
nurse
,
hastily
depositing
in
her
pocket
a
green
glass
bottle
,
the
contents
of
which
she
had
been
tasting
in
a
corner
with
evident
satisfaction
.
'
Lor
bless
her
dear
heart
,
when
she
has
lived
as
long
as
I
have
,
sir
,
and
had
thirteen
children
of
her
own
,
and
all
on
'em
dead
except
two
,
and
them
in
the
wurkus
with
me
,
she
'll
know
better
than
to
take
on
in
that
way
,
bless
her
dear
heart
!
Think
what
it
is
to
be
a
mother
,
there
's
a
dear
young
lamb
do
.
'
Apparently
this
consolatory
perspective
of
a
mother
's
prospects
failed
in
producing
its
due
effect
.
The
patient
shook
her
head
,
and
stretched
out
her
hand
towards
the
child
.
