hundred times more efficacious than all the strait-waistcoats,
fetters, and handcuffs, that ignorance, prejudice, and cruelty have
manufactured since the creation of the world.
In the labour department, every patient is as freely trusted with
the tools of his trade as if he were a sane man. In the garden,
and on the farm, they work with spades, rakes, and hoes. For
amusement, they walk, run, fish, paint, read, and ride out to take
the air in carriages provided for the purpose. They have among
themselves a sewing society to make clothes for the poor, which
holds meetings, passes resolutions, never comes to fisty-cuffs or
bowie-knives as sane assemblies have been known to do elsewhere;
and conducts all its proceedings with the greatest decorum. The
irritability, which would otherwise be expended on their own flesh,
clothes, and furniture, is dissipated in these pursuits. They are
cheerful, tranquil, and healthy.
Once a week they have a ball, in which the Doctor and his family,
with all the nurses and attendants, take an active part. Dances
and marches are performed alternately, to the enlivening strains of
a piano; and now and then some gentleman or lady (whose proficiency
has been previously ascertained) obliges the company with a song:
nor does it ever degenerate, at a tender crisis, into a screech or
howl; wherein, I must confess, I should have thought the danger
lay. At an early hour they all meet together for these festive
purposes; at eight o’clock refreshments are served; and at nine
they separate.
Immense politeness and good breeding are observed throughout. They
all take their tone from the Doctor; and he moves a very
Chesterfield among the company. Like other assemblies, these
entertainments afford a fruitful topic of conversation among the
ladies for some days; and the gentlemen are so anxious to shine on
these occasions, that they have been sometimes found ‘practising
their steps’ in private, to cut a more distinguished figure in the
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Dickens, Charles – American Notes for General Circulation
dance.
It is obvious that one great feature of this system, is the
inculcation and encouragement, even among such unhappy persons, of
a decent self-respect. Something of the same spirit pervades all
the Institutions at South Boston.
There is the House of Industry. In that branch of it, which is
devoted to the reception of old or otherwise helpless paupers,
these words are painted on the walls: ‘WORTHY OF NOTICE. SELFGOVERNMENT,
QUIETUDE, AND PEACE, ARE BLESSINGS.’ It is not assumed
and taken for granted that being there they must be evil-disposed
and wicked people, before whose vicious eyes it is necessary to
flourish threats and harsh restraints. They are met at the very
threshold with this mild appeal. All within-doors is very plain
and simple, as it ought to be, but arranged with a view to peace
and comfort. It costs no more than any other plan of arrangement,
but it speaks an amount of consideration for those who are reduced
to seek a shelter there, which puts them at once upon their
gratitude and good behaviour. Instead of being parcelled out in
great, long, rambling wards, where a certain amount of weazen life
may mope, and pine, and shiver, all day long, the building is
divided into separate rooms, each with its share of light and air.
In these, the better kind of paupers live. They have a motive for
exertion and becoming pride, in the desire to make these little
chambers comfortable and decent.
I do not remember one but it was clean and neat, and had its plant
or two upon the window-sill, or row of crockery upon the shelf, or
small display of coloured prints upon the whitewashed wall, or,
perhaps, its wooden clock behind the door.
The orphans and young children are in an adjoining building
separate from this, but a part of the same Institution. Some are
such little creatures, that the stairs are of Lilliputian
measurement, fitted to their tiny strides. The same consideration
for their years and weakness is expressed in their very seats,
which are perfect curiosities, and look like articles of furniture
for a pauper doll’s-house. I can imagine the glee of our Poor Law