Sketches by Boz, Illustrative of Every-Day Life and Every-Day People
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Чарльз Диккенс. Sketches by Boz, Illustrative of Every-Day Life and Every-Day People
PREFACE
OUR PARISH
CHAPTER I – THE BEADLE. THE PARISH ENGINE. THE SCHOOLMASTER
CHAPTER II – THE CURATE. THE OLD LADY. THE HALF-PAY CAPTAIN
CHAPTER III – THE FOUR SISTERS
CHAPTER IV – THE ELECTION FOR BEADLE
CHAPTER V – THE BROKER’S MAN
CHAPTER VI – THE LADIES’ SOCIETIES
CHAPTER VII – OUR NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOUR
SCENES
CHAPTER I – THE STREETS – MORNING
CHAPTER II – THE STREETS – NIGHT
CHAPTER III – SHOPS AND THEIR TENANTS
CHAPTER IV – SCOTLAND-YARD
CHAPTER V – SEVEN DIALS
CHAPTER VI – MEDITATIONS IN MONMOUTH-STREET
CHAPTER VII – HACKNEY-COACH STANDS
CHAPTER VIII – DOCTORS’ COMMONS
CHAPTER IX – LONDON RECREATIONS
CHAPTER X – THE RIVER
CHAPTER XI – ASTLEY’S
CHAPTER XII – GREENWICH FAIR
CHAPTER XIII – PRIVATE THEATRES
CHAPTER XIV – VAUXHALL-GARDENS BY DAY
CHAPTER XV – EARLY COACHES
CHAPTER XVI – OMNIBUSES
CHAPTER XVII – THE LAST CAB-DRIVER, AND THE FIRST OMNIBUS CAD
CHAPTER XVIII – A PARLIAMENTARY SKETCH
CHAPTER XIX – PUBLIC DINNERS
CHAPTER XX – THE FIRST OF MAY
CHAPTER XXI – BROKERS’ AND MARINE-STORE SHOPS
CHAPTER XXII – GIN-SHOPS
CHAPTER XXIII – THE PAWNBROKER’S SHOP
CHAPTER XXIV – CRIMINAL COURTS
CHAPTER XXV – A VISIT TO NEWGATE
CHARACTERS
CHAPTER I – THOUGHTS ABOUT PEOPLE
CHAPTER II – A CHRISTMAS DINNER
CHAPTER III – THE NEW YEAR
CHAPTER IV – MISS EVANS AND THE EAGLE
CHAPTER V – THE PARLOUR ORATOR
CHAPTER VI – THE HOSPITAL PATIENT
CHAPTER VII – THE MISPLACED ATTACHMENT OF MR. JOHN DOUNCE
CHAPTER VIII – THE MISTAKEN MILLINER. A TALE OF AMBITION
CHAPTER IX – THE DANCING ACADEMY
CHAPTER X – SHABBY-GENTEEL PEOPLE
CHAPTER XI – MAKING A NIGHT OF IT
CHAPTER XII – THE PRISONERS’ VAN
TALES
CHAPTER I – THE BOARDING-HOUSE
CHAPTER II – MR. MINNS AND HIS COUSIN
CHAPTER III – SENTIMENT
CHAPTER IV – THE TUGGSES AT RAMSGATE
CHAPTER V – HORATIO SPARKINS
CHAPTER VI – THE BLACK VEIL
CHAPTER VII – THE STEAM EXCURSION
CHAPTER VIII – THE GREAT WINGLEBURY DUEL
CHAPTER IX – MRS. JOSEPH PORTER
CHAPTER X – A PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. WATKINS TOTTLE
CHAPTER XI – THE BLOOMSBURY CHRISTENING
CHAPTER XII – THE DRUNKARD’S DEATH
SKETCHES OF YOUNG GENTLEMEN
THE BASHFUL YOUNG GENTLEMAN
THE OUT-AND-OUT YOUNG GENTLEMAN
THE VERY FRIENDLY YOUNG GENTLEMAN
THE MILITARY YOUNG GENTLEMAN
THE POLITICAL YOUNG GENTLEMAN
THE DOMESTIC YOUNG GENTLEMAN
THE CENSORIOUS YOUNG GENTLEMAN
THE FUNNY YOUNG GENTLEMAN
THE THEATRICAL YOUNG GENTLEMAN
THE POETICAL YOUNG GENTLEMAN
THE ‘THROWING-OFF’ YOUNG GENTLEMAN
THE YOUNG LADIES’ YOUNG GENTLEMAN
CONCLUSION
SKETCHES OF YOUNG COUPLES
AN URGENT REMONSTRANCE, &c
THE YOUNG COUPLE
THE FORMAL COUPLE
THE LOVING COUPLE
THE CONTRADICTORY COUPLE
THE COUPLE WHO DOTE UPON THEIR CHILDREN
THE COOL COUPLE
THE PLAUSIBLE COUPLE
THE NICE LITTLE COUPLE
THE EGOTISTICAL COUPLE
THE COUPLE WHO CODDLE THEMSELVES
THE OLD COUPLE
CONCLUSION
THE MUDFOG AND OTHER SKETCHES
PUBLIC LIFE OF MR. TULRUMBLE – ONCE MAYOR OF MUDFOG
FULL REPORT OF THE FIRST MEETING OF THE MUDFOG ASSOCIATION. for the advancement of everything
FULL REPORT OF THE SECOND MEETING OF THE MUDFOG ASSOCIATION. for the advancement of everything
THE PANTOMIME OF LIFE
SOME PARTICULARS CONCERNING A LION
MR. ROBERT BOLTON: THE ‘GENTLEMAN CONNECTED WITH THE PRESS’
FAMILIAR EPISTLE FROM A PARENT TO A CHILD. aged two years and two months
Отрывок из книги
How much is conveyed in those two short words – ‘The Parish!’ And with how many tales of distress and misery, of broken fortune and ruined hopes, too often of unrelieved wretchedness and successful knavery, are they associated! A poor man, with small earnings, and a large family, just manages to live on from hand to mouth, and to procure food from day to day; he has barely sufficient to satisfy the present cravings of nature, and can take no heed of the future. His taxes are in arrear, quarter-day passes by, another quarter-day arrives: he can procure no more quarter for himself, and is summoned by – the parish. His goods are distrained, his children are crying with cold and hunger, and the very bed on which his sick wife is lying, is dragged from beneath her. What can he do? To whom is he to apply for relief? To private charity? To benevolent individuals? Certainly not – there is his parish. There are the parish vestry, the parish infirmary, the parish surgeon, the parish officers, the parish beadle. Excellent institutions, and gentle, kind-hearted men. The woman dies – she is buried by the parish. The children have no protector – they are taken care of by the parish. The man first neglects, and afterwards cannot obtain, work – he is relieved by the parish; and when distress and drunkenness have done their work upon him, he is maintained, a harmless babbling idiot, in the parish asylum.
The parish beadle is one of the most, perhaps the most, important member of the local administration. He is not so well off as the churchwardens, certainly, nor is he so learned as the vestry-clerk, nor does he order things quite so much his own way as either of them. But his power is very great, notwithstanding; and the dignity of his office is never impaired by the absence of efforts on his part to maintain it. The beadle of our parish is a splendid fellow. It is quite delightful to hear him, as he explains the state of the existing poor laws to the deaf old women in the board-room passage on business nights; and to hear what he said to the senior churchwarden, and what the senior churchwarden said to him; and what ‘we’ (the beadle and the other gentlemen) came to the determination of doing. A miserable-looking woman is called into the boardroom, and represents a case of extreme destitution, affecting herself – a widow, with six small children. ‘Where do you live?’ inquires one of the overseers. ‘I rents a two-pair back, gentlemen, at Mrs. Brown’s, Number 3, Little King William’s-alley, which has lived there this fifteen year, and knows me to be very hard-working and industrious, and when my poor husband was alive, gentlemen, as died in the hospital’ – ‘Well, well,’ interrupts the overseer, taking a note of the address, ‘I’ll send Simmons, the beadle, to-morrow morning, to ascertain whether your story is correct; and if so, I suppose you must have an order into the House – Simmons, go to this woman’s the first thing to-morrow morning, will you?’ Simmons bows assent, and ushers the woman out. Her previous admiration of ‘the board’ (who all sit behind great books, and with their hats on) fades into nothing before her respect for her lace-trimmed conductor; and her account of what has passed inside, increases – if that be possible – the marks of respect, shown by the assembled crowd, to that solemn functionary. As to taking out a summons, it’s quite a hopeless case if Simmons attends it, on behalf of the parish. He knows all the titles of the Lord Mayor by heart; states the case without a single stammer: and it is even reported that on one occasion he ventured to make a joke, which the Lord Mayor’s head footman (who happened to be present) afterwards told an intimate friend, confidentially, was almost equal to one of Mr. Hobler’s.
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This immense booth, with the large stage in front, so brightly illuminated with variegated lamps, and pots of burning fat, is ‘Richardson’s,’ where you have a melodrama (with three murders and a ghost), a pantomime, a comic song, an overture, and some incidental music, all done in five-and-twenty minutes.
The company are now promenading outside in all the dignity of wigs, spangles, red-ochre, and whitening. See with what a ferocious air the gentleman who personates the Mexican chief, paces up and down, and with what an eye of calm dignity the principal tragedian gazes on the crowd below, or converses confidentially with the harlequin! The four clowns, who are engaged in a mock broadsword combat, may be all very well for the low-minded holiday-makers; but these are the people for the reflective portion of the community. They look so noble in those Roman dresses, with their yellow legs and arms, long black curly heads, bushy eyebrows, and scowl expressive of assassination, and vengeance, and everything else that is grand and solemn. Then, the ladies – were there ever such innocent and awful-looking beings; as they walk up and down the platform in twos and threes, with their arms round each other’s waists, or leaning for support on one of those majestic men! Their spangled muslin dresses and blue satin shoes and sandals (a leetle the worse for wear) are the admiration of all beholders; and the playful manner in which they check the advances of the clown, is perfectly enchanting.
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