Chapter 30: Dickens’s Social Survey
Chapter 30 Dickens’ Social Investigation
In the lightless corner at the end of the street, the young man carrying a light green canvas file bag was wrestling with a knife-wielding homeless man on the ground.
“Let go, if you don’t let go, I’m going to give you two hard hits! Don’t blame me for not reminding you, my knife was just sharpened this morning!”
“I can give you some money, but you’re not going to take my bag!”
Seeing that the young man wouldn’t compromise no matter what, the vagabond was instantly enraged.
He gripped the handle of the knife and raised it high, ready to punch the young man in the stomach and stab him twice.
However, before he could do so, a hand as strong as an iron clamp choked his wrist.
With a simple force from Arthur, the vagabond immediately felt his arm aching, and the knife in his hand fell to the ground when he couldn’t hold it.
Arthur stomped the knife under his foot, stretched his head and said in the tramp’s ear, “You should be glad I’m not at work today, or else you’ll get a light beating. Get out, before I turn my back on you!”
As soon as he let go of his hand, the homeless man covered his painful wrist and glared at him fiercely before leaving with a hunched back.
Arthur reached out towards the dusty young man and pulled him up from the ground.
“Once night arrives, the crow vultures’ feeding time begins, going to an unlit area at this time can be an easy way to run into them.”
The young man dusted himself off, he looked up and was about to reply, but hesitated when he saw Arthur’s facial profile.
He looked closer before he was pleasantly surprised, “Officer Arthur, I didn’t expect to run into you here!”
Arthur also recognized the other man, “Charles?”
The other party was none other than Arthur’s new friend, court clerk Charles Dickens.
Arthur rubbed his neck and shook his head, “If anything happens to you here, it’s a great loss for the whole of British literature and even world literature. You must treasure your life and stay as far away from danger as possible.”
Dickens smiled and said, “Officer Arthur, you’re starting again. I’m just a court clerk and newspaper interviewer, not some great literary figure you’re talking about.”
“Even if you were a commoner, you shouldn’t be in St. Giles at this hour! You should know what it is, shouldn’t you? It’s the place with the highest crime rate in the entire West End of London, even compared to several famous slums in the East End. It’s fortunate that you bumped into me today, or else your life would really have to be accounted for here.”
Dickens was also a bit scared afterward, “He actually if he just wanted money, the big deal is that I would have given him all the coins and banknotes I had on me. But he insisted on grabbing the bag in my hand, then I can’t give him my stuff even if I die, or else my day today would be in vain.”
Arthur asked, “Is there anything important in the bag?”
Dickens nodded, and with an excited look on his face, he rummaged through the bag and handed Arthur a copy of the interview.
He said, “Thanks to your blessing, I’ve gained some fame because of that manuscript about you, so a lot of newspapers have been looking for me for an appointment lately.
Even a committee of the House of Commons has privately commissioned me to conduct an investigative interview for them, and I have come to St. Giles to complete the interview to get the material.
I took up the commission with gusto at first, but when I really arrived at the place I realized that I had thought things too simple.
I had never been here before, and my memory of the parish of St. Giles was limited to the London Beer Flood of 1814, when the beer tanks at the Muckles Brewery burst en masse, destroying two nearby houses and a pub.
I thought I’d be able to complete my research interviews quickly by coming here during the day, but then I realized I’d overthought it.
Most of the people who lived here were working in lower level, heavy duty jobs in the nearby markets, factories, business districts, or government departments, and had no time to be interviewed by me.
Even the vagrants and pickpockets who sleep on the streets know that there’s not much to be gained locally, so they go out during the day to look for targets in other areas.
Therefore, I can only wait here until they go home to sleep at night before I have a chance to interview one or two energetic ones.
You see, the one I am handing over to you is an interview I have just completed. I’ve been guarding it all day for this manuscript, and no one is going to take it from me.”
Arthur scanned the manuscript with a single glance; it was brief, but every word written on it weighed heavily, like a thousand pounds of stone pressing down on his palms.
Interviewer: Elizabeth Bentley Reporter: Charles Dickens
DI: What is your occupation?
E: I’m a weaver’s wife, and I work in a mill nearby.
Dee: When did you start this job?
E: About 1815, from the time I was six years old.
Dietrichson: What kind of work did you do in the mill?
E: I was in charge of dropping yarns.
Dee: Can you briefly describe what you did?
E: When the spinning key is full of thread, stop the spinning machine, remove the counting key and all the bobbins, take them to the spool, change the empty bobbins, and start the spinning machine again!
Dee: How long did you work in the mill each day?
E: From 5:00 in the morning to 9:00 at night.
Dee: Has it been like that since you were six years old?
I: Yes, but I’m used to it.
Dietrichson: It must be very busy from morning to night with such heavy work. Would it be all right if you did it a little slower or arrived a little later?
I: No, they’d whip me with a belt.
Dietrichson: Did you ever suffer any physical deformities as a result of the long hours of labor?
I: Yes, since I was thirteen years old, my chest was a little sunken, my back wasn’t straight, and I often felt like I couldn’t catch my breath. Sir, can we end the interview now? I just got off work and now I just want to get a good night’s sleep, I’m really tired, I can’t lift my hands, I can barely move my feet, and I don’t want to say anything right now.
Di: I’m sorry, ma’am, please take this shilling, it’s your payment for the interview.
E: You are a very generous gentleman, this is worth a day’s wages, I thank you for your kindness, and I hope God will bless you.
Arthur sees this and looks at Dickens and says nothing, but his expression says it all.
All he felt was a breath clogging his chest, and he had to roar towards the sky to dissipate the pent up sulk.
After a moment of silence, he spoke, “Charles, you’re right. This is something that no one can take away from you.”
Dickens just laughed as he fished out a box of cigarettes from his pocket and opened the lid to punch Arthur.
“Want some more? Truth be told, I’m feeling the same way you are right now, and I need a little of this too.”
The glowing red dots turned from one to two in the dull moonlight.
Arthur exhaled a smoke ring and asked, “What committee of the House of Commons commissioned your investigation?”
Dickens said, “It can’t be the House of Commons, to be precise, but a committee initiated by Whig MPs who want to investigate the current state of poverty in which the local population of St. Giles is living, and then launch an impeachment against the current Tory government.
Actually that’s not all, they’ve commissioned other investigators to travel to rural areas. You do realize that, don’t you? There’s been a rural famine in several agricultural counties for the past two years, because of the grain tax and high land rents, plus the fact that the years have not been good either, and a lot of the hired farmers are not getting enough to eat even though they’ve farmed the land.
I’ve heard that in serious areas, the income level of the hired farmers has dropped to two to three shillings per week, and even if the level of consumption in the countryside isn’t as high as it is in London, it’s still too difficult to feed a family on two or three shillings per week.”
Hearing this, Arthur held his tongue for half a day and finally managed to resist cursing.
“The Whigs investigating the Tories, how do you hear it, how do you think it’s bullshit. The Whigs are backed by those big factory owners, big bankers, big lawyers, etc., and the parish of St. Giles has to ask themselves why they’re like this.
As for the Tories, they are backed by the aristocracy, the clergy, the military, and the large and small landowners who profited from the enclosure movement, and I don’t need to tell you who is responsible for the grain tax that is used to protect the price of domestic agricultural products, and for the land rent that can’t come down when it’s raised.
Just these assholes have the nerve to investigate each other? I recognize that there may be some good people in both parties, but as far as average quality is concerned, it’s just half a dozen!”
(End of chapter)