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Voorjaar 2005 no. 52
The Dutch Dickensian Volume XXV
dewelop your talents. Be careful to dewelop your
talents, and never to say no more than you can help
to nobody, and there's no telling at the present time
what you may not come to be fit for."
As Young Jerry, thus encouraged, went on a few
yards in advance, to plant the stool in the shadow of
the Bar, Mr. Cruncher added to himself: "Jerry, you
honest tradesman, there's hopes wot that boy will yet
be a blessing to you, and a recompense to you for his
mother!"
De tweede keer is in "Our Mutual Friend", waar we
kennis maken met Betty Higden, een arme
wasvrouw en "child-minder". Als haar
omstandigheden te benard worden gaat zij een
zwervend leven leiden. In haar kleren heeft ze
geld verstopt om haar begrafenis van te betalen, in
een brief met de namen van haar vrienden. Als ze
haar dood voelt aankomen, is haar grote angst dat
ze naar het "workhouse" of het ziekenhuis van de
"parish" gebracht zal worden, waar het geld haar
zal worden afgenomen. Als zij dan overlijdt zal
haar begrafenis ten laste van de "parish" komen,
en we weten nu wat dat betekent. Dat wil ze
absoluut vermijden, ze hoopt dat ze zal sterven in
het vrije veld en dat de brief met het geld aan haar
vrienden gegeven zal worden, zodat die haar een
nette begrafenis kunnen geven. In boek 3,
hoofdstuk 8, lezen we hoe het met haar afloopt.:
Ze zwerft nog steeds vrij rond en voelt haar dood
aankomen.
"The time was come, now, when the wants of this
little life were passing away from her. She could not
have swallowed food, though a table had been
spread for her in the next field. The day was cold
and wet, but she scarcely knew it. She crept on, poor
soul, like a criminal afraid of being taken, and felt
little beyond the terror of falling down while it was
yet daylight, and being found alive. She had no fear
that she would live through another night.
Sewn in the breast of her gown, the money to pay
for her burial was still intact. If she could wear
through the day, and then lie down to die under
cover of the darkness, she would die independent. If
she were captured previously, the money would be
taken from her as a pauper who had no right to it,
and she would be carried to the accursed workhouse.
Gaining her end, the letter would be found in her
breast, along with the money, and the gentlefolks
would say when it was given back to them,'She
prized it, did old Betty Higden; she was true to it;
and while she lived, she would never let it be
disgraced by falling into the hands of those that she
held in horror.' Most illogical, inconsequential, and
lightheaded, this; but travellers in the valley of the
shadow of death are apt to be light-headed; and
worn-out old people of low estate have a trick of
reasoning as indifferently as they live, and doubtless
would appreciate our Poor Law more philosophically
on an income often thousand a year."
Als ze stervend is, wordt ze gevonden door Lizzie
Hexam. Betty vraagt Lizzie om de brief met het
geld te bezorgen bij de geadresseerde vrienden.
Lizzie bekijkt de brief:
"She reads it with surprise, and looks down with a
new expression and an added interest on the
motionless face she kneels beside.
"I know these names. I have heard them often."
"Will you send it, my dear?"
"I cannot understand you. Let me wet your lips
again, and your forehead. There. O poor thing, poor
thing!" These words through her fast-dropping tears.
"What was it that you asked me? Wait till I bring my
ear quite close."
"Will you send it, my dear?"
"Will I send it to the writers? Is that your wish? Yes,
certainly"
"You'll not give it up to any one but them?"
"No."
"As you must grow old in time, and come to your
dying hour, my dear, you'll not give it up to any one
but them?"
"No. Most solemnly."
"Never to the Parish!" with a convulsed struggle.
"No. Most solemnly."
"Nor let the Parish touch me, not yet so much as look
at me!"
Dickens rept met geen woord over de Anatomy
Act, of de consequentie daarvan, maar schildert in
de figuur van Betty Higden wel hoe panisch
angstig iemand is die vreest "a pauper's burial" te
krijgen.
SC Z0lanSmen maar schrijft.
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