ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Good Shepherd, by AnonymousThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use itunder the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.orgTitle: The Good Shepherd       A Life of Christ for ChildrenAuthor: AnonymousRelease Date: June 11, 2006[EBook #18558]Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOOD SHEPHERD ***Produced by Al Haines[Frontispiece: "I am the good shepherd. . ."]THE GOOD SHEPHERDA LIFE OFCHRIST FOR CHILDRENFLEMING H. REVELL COMPANYNEW YORK : : CHICAGO : : TORONTOPublishers of Evangelical LiteratureTABLE OF CONTENTSCHAPTER    I.  WHY JESUS CAME TO THIS WORLD   II.  JESUS ISBORN IN BETHLEHEM  III.  THE BOYHOOD OF JESUS   IV.  JOHN THE BAPTIST    V.  JESUS BEGINS HIS WORK   VI.  SOME WORDS AND WORKS OF JESUS  VII.  A FRIEND FOR THE SORROWFUL VIII.  MOREWONDERFUL WORKS AND WORDS   IX.  THE MAN BORN BLIND, AND LAZARUS    X.  THE PRODIGAL SON, AND OTHER STORIES   XI.  THE LAST DAYS IN JERUSALEM  XII.  THE CRUCIFIXION AND THERESURRECTION   XX   SELECTED SONGS, PSALMS, AND PRAYERSLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS"I am the good shepherd . . ." . . . . . . _Frontispiece_Map of Palestine at the time of ChristThe shepherd'scareBethlehemNazareth, from hill aboveJewish women grinding cornThe River JordanJericho, from plains aboveA modern Jew's wedding party in GalileeJacob's wellRuins of CapernaumThe good SamaritanBethanyChildat prayerThe shepherd's care (2nd version)The shepherd's care (3rd version)The Jordan near BethabaraMount of Olives and JerusalemGethsemaneCalvaryThe empty tombThe Sea of GalileeThe Mount of OlivesCHAPTERIWHY JESUS CAME TO THIS WORLDIn the beginning, before the world was made, the Lord Jesus lived inheaven.  He lived in that happy place with God.  Then God made theworld.  He told the hills to come up out of theearth, and the seas torun down into the deep places which He had made for them.  He made thegrass, the trees, and all the pretty flowers.  He put the sun, themoon, and the stars in the sky.  He filled the water withswimmingfish, the air with flying birds, and the dry land with walking andcreeping animals.  And then He said, 'Let _Us_ make man.'  Who weremeant by 'Us'?  Who was with God when He made the world?  It wasJesus.The Bible says:'THE WORD (that means Jesus) WAS WITH GOD, AND THE WORD WAS GOD.  THESAME WAS IN THE BEGINNING WITH GOD.  ALL THINGS WERE MADE BY HIM.'So after He had made everythingelse, God made a man, and named himAdam.  God put Adam into the beautiful Garden of Eden, and at first hewas good and very happy.  God also made a woman, named Eve, to be hiswife, and to help him to takecare of the garden.  All the fruit in thegarden, except what grew on one tree, was given to Adam and Eve to eat;all the animals were their servants; and God was their Friend.A wicked angel, who had been turned out ofheaven, saw how happy Adamand Eve were, and he was angry, and thought, 'I will make them as badand unhappy as I am; I will make them do what God has told them not todo.  Then he will turn them out of Eden,and they and their childrenwill be my servants for ever, and I shall be king of the world.'So the wicked angel, whose name was Satan, came into Eden.  He got Adamand Eve to take the fruit which God had told them notto eat, and Godhad to send them out of the beautiful garden; for God had said He wouldpunish Adam and Eve if they took that fruit, and God always keeps Hisword.But God went on loving Adam and Eve even when Heknew that He mustpunish them, and He tried to make them good in this way.  He thought,'I will send My dear Son down to the earth.  He shall become a littlechild, and grow up to be a man, and shall die for the sins oftheworld.'Hundreds and hundreds of years passed away before Jesus came.  But agreat many of the people who lived in Palestine were expecting Him.God had said that when Jesus came, He would be a Jew.  The Jewswerevery proud about that.  They often talked about the coming of Jesus.When they talked about Him, they called Him the Messiah.Just before Jesus was born, the Jews were very unhappy.  Roman soldiershad beenfighting with them, and had conquered them, and made themservants of the great Roman king.  He was called Augustus Caesar, andhe gave the Jews another king called Herod.  He was very wicked.[Illustration: Mapof Palestine at the time of Christ.]The Jews longed to get rid of Herod, and many of them thought, 'It willbe all right when the Messiah comes.  The Messiah will fight againstthe Romans; He will drive them away fromour land; and then He will beour King instead of that wicked Herod.'  But only a few Jews rememberedthat Jesus was coming to fight against Satan and against sin.The place where the Jews lived had four or fivenames.  It was calledthe Land of Canaan at the first, then the Land of Promise, and then theLand of Israel.  But we call it the Holy Land, or Palestine.If you look at the map of Palestine, you will see a river runningfromthe north of Palestine to the south.  That river is called the Jordan.And Palestine is divided into four parts,--one at the top (we call thatthe north), one at the bottom (we call that the south), one in themiddle, andone on the other or eastward side of the Jordan.The part in the North is called Galilee.  The part in the south iscalled Judaea.  The part in the middle is called Samaria.  The part onthe other side of the Jordan is calledPerea.Palestine is full of hills, with great holes, called caves, in theirsides.  Palestine is not very big; England is about six times, and NewYork State about five times larger.  Washington is called the capitalof the UnitedStates.  The capital of Palestine was Jerusalem.Jerusalem was a very beautiful city.  It was built on four or fivehills which were very close together.  One of these hills was calledMount Moriah.  On the top of MountMoriah there was a great Templewhere the Jews went to pray.  Part of the Temple was called the HolyPlace, the part at the very top of the mountain.  It was splendid withits shining gold and white marble, but it was notvery large, for thepeople were not allowed to go into it.  When it was time for the Jewsto go to the Temple, silver trumpets were blown once, twice, threetimes, and then the gates were thrown open, and the peoplecrowded intothe courts.CHAPTER IIJESUS IS BORN IN BETHLEHEMMary, the mother of Jesus, lived in the little town of Nazareth, amongthe hills of Galilee.  She was going to be married to a carpentercalled Joseph, who,like herself, lived in Nazareth.  One day God sentthe angel Gabriel to Mary with a message.  Mary, when she saw and heardthe angel, was a little frightened.  But the angel told her he had someglad news for her.  Jesus,the Son of God, the Messiah, was coming intothe world very soon, and He was to come in the form of a baby, asMary's little child.  And Gabriel said that when He was born, Mary mustcall Him JESUS.Mary had a cousinnamed Elizabeth, who lived more than a hundred milesaway from Nazareth, and Mary longed to talk with her about all thesewonderful things.  So she got ready for a long journey, and went offinto the hill country ofJudaea to see Elizabeth.And God had also promised to send Elizabeth a son.  And soon afterMary's visit the baby was born, and all Elizabeth's friends were glad,and came to see her, and to thank God with her for Hisgreat kindness.The little Jew babies have a name given to them when they are eightdays old.  And Elizabeth's son was named John.One night, soon after Mary got back from her cousin Elizabeth's house,the angel of theLord spoke to Joseph in a dream.  The angel toldJoseph to marry Mary, and he told him Mary's secret about the Son ofGod coming to earth as her little child, and he said to Joseph, 'THOUSHALT CALL HIS NAME JESUS,FOB HE SHALL SAVE HIS PEOPLE FROM THEIRSINS.'  When Joseph woke up, his first thought was to do what the angelhad told him, and he at once took Mary to his own home as his wife.About this time CaesarAugustus, the great Emperor at Rome, sent wordto Herod that he was to take a census of the Jews.  Everybody's namehad to be written down and his age, and many other things about him.Every twenty yearsAugustus had a census taken, so that he might knowhow much money the Jews ought to pay him, and how many Jew soldiers heought to have.In Palestine, at census time, people had to go to the towns wheretheirfathers' fathers lived a long time ago, and had to have their names putdown there instead of having them put down in their own homes.  Now,both Joseph and Mary belonged to the family of the great kingDavid,who was born in Bethlehem.  So Mary had to prepare for a long journey,and go with her husband to Bethlehem.  Bethlehem is six miles fromJerusalem.  It is on the top of a hill, and people have to climb upasteep road to get into the town.An inn is a large house that people stay at when they are on a journey.The inns in Palestine have four walls, with a door in front, and with agreat empty space for camels and horsesinside.  In the middle of theempty space is a fountain; and all round the walls, a little bit higherthan the part where the animals are, there are a number of places likeempty stone arbors.  These empty places are called_leewans_, and theyare open in front, so that everybody can see into them.  Yet Mary andJoseph, after all their long journey from Nazareth, could not find evenan empty _leewan_ to lie down in.[Illustration: Theshepherd's care.]Near that inn there was a place in which asses and camels were kept.It was perhaps a cave in the side of the hill.  And because there wasno room for them in the inn, Mary and Joseph had to go intothat stableto sleep, and in that stable Jesus Christ was born.  Mary wrapped Himin swaddling clothes, and laid Him in the manger in the place where theanimals' food was kept.On the hill where Bethlehem stands thereare green places whereshepherds feed their flocks.  There are wild animals in Palestine; andall night long the shepherds of Bethlehem watched to see that no harmhappened to their sheep.  One night an angel of theLord stood by themand a bright light shown round about them.  The shepherds were afraid;but the angel said, 'FEAR NOT; FOR BEHOLD, I BRING YOU GOOD TIDINGS (ORNEWS) OF GREAT JOY, WHICH SHALL BE TOALL PEOPLE.  FOR UNTO YOU IS BORNTHIS DAY IN THE CITY OF DAVID A SAVIOUR, WHICH is CHRIST THE LORD.'And suddenly there was seen with the angel a number of the angels ofheaven.  And they praised God,and said, 'GLORY TO GOD IN THE HIGHEST,AND ON EARTH PEACE, GOOD WILL TOWARD MEN.'When the light faded, and the song ended, and the angels had gone backinto heaven, the shepherds climbed quickly overthe hillside toBethlehem.  And there, in the stable near the inn, they found Mary andJoseph, and the Babe lying in the manger, as the angels had said.Jesus was the eldest son of His mother.  And the eldest sons inJewishhouses, when they were forty days old, were taken to the Temple, andgiven to God.So now, when Jesus was nearly six weeks old, He was brought fromBethlehem by Mary and Joseph to the Temple atJerusalem.  The mothersused to take a lamb with them, or two pigeons, as a sacrifice to God.Mary took two pigeons.  She was not rich enough to buy a lamb.A long way on the eastern side of the Jordan, there werecountrieswhere the people used to watch the sun and the moon and the stars verycarefully.  If they saw anything new and strange in the heavens, theythought it meant that something wonderful was going tohappen.  Butsome of them knew and had heard from the Jews about God, and about theMessiah who was coming; and they, like the Jews, were longing for Jesus.One day these wise men saw a bright star which theyhad never seenbefore.  And as they looked at it they felt sure that a great King ofthe Jews had been born in Judaea.  So they took camels and richpresents of gold and sweet-smelling stuff--such as people gave tokingsin those days--and they loaded their camels, and left their homes, androde for many weeks till they came to Jerusalem.  And when they gotthere they said, 'Where is He that is born King of the Jews? for wehaveseen His star in the east, and are come to worship Him.'[Illustration: Bethlehem.]When Herod heard about these wise men he was troubled.  He sent for thebest priests, and other clever men, and asked them whereChrist wouldbe born.  And they said to him, 'In Bethlehem of Judaea.'  They hadread that in the Bible.  Then Herod said to the wise men, 'Go andsearch out carefully about the young Child; and when ye have foundHim,bring me word, that I also may come and worship Him.'When the wise men had heard the king, they went away to Bethlehem, andlo, the star went before them, till it came and stood over where theyoung Childwas.  And they rejoiced with great joy.  And when they werecome into the house (there was room in the inn now) they saw the youngChild with Mary, His mother, and they fell down and worshipped Him, andthey gaveHim their presents--gold, and frankincense, and myrrh.  Butthe wise men did not go back to Herod.  God told them in a dream not togo.  So they went home by another way instead.After the wise men were gone, theangel of the Lord came to Joseph inhis sleep, and said to him, 'Arise, and take the young Child and Hismother, and flee into Egypt, and be thou there until I bring thee word:for Herod will seek the young Child to destroyHim.'  That meant tokill Him.  So Joseph at once got up, and took the young Child and Hismother by night, and went away to Egypt.When Herod found that the wise men did not come back, he was veryangry, and hesent his soldiers to Bethlehem, and had all the baby boyskilled--all the children who were less than two years of age.  And theykilled all the baby boys in the places near Bethlehem as well.  And thepoor mothers cried,and nobody could comfort them.Joseph and Mary stayed in Egypt, waiting for the angel to bring themword that it was time to go back again to Palestine.  And one night,when Jesus was about three years old, themessage came.  The angel ofthe Lord said to Joseph in a dream, 'Arise, and take the young Childand His mother, and go into the land of Israel: for they are dead whichsought the young Child's life.'  Joseph got up, andtook the youngChild and His mother, and went into the land of Israel.  But when hecame there, people said to him, 'Herod is dead, but his son Archelausis king.'  And when Joseph knew that Archelaus was king, he wasafraidto stay in Judaea.  And God spoke to him again in a dream, and told himto go back to Galilee.  So Joseph and Mary went back to Galilee, andlived in Nazareth again.CHAPTER IIITHE BOYHOOD OF JESUSThe Bibletells us only a few stories about the time when Jesus was alittle boy.Nazareth is built up the side of a hill, and there are plenty ofgardens and fields down below.  Amongst these fields there is afountain, where thewomen of Nazareth go to fetch water.  Jesus mustoften have gone with His mother to that fountain; and sometimes, whenshe was tired, He may have fetched the water for her Himself.[Illustration: Nazareth, from hillabove.]Mary wore a long blue dress, tied round the waist, and a cap withpieces of money sewn round it, and a white cloth over her head andshoulders, just as the women of Nazareth do now; and Jesus was verylikelydressed in a red cap, a bright tunic, a sash of many colours,and a little jacket of white or blue, just as the boys of Nazareth aredressed now.The houses of Nazareth are white.  Grape vines grow over their walls,anddoves sit and coo on the flat roofs.  There is not much inside thehouses: sometimes they have only one room.  There is a lamp in themiddle of the room, and round the walls there are waterpots.  Therearebright-coloured quilts on a shelf.  People unroll these quilts at nightand lie down upon them.  There are mats and carpets in the house, and abright-coloured box with treasures in it, and a painted wooden stool;andthat is nearly all.[Illustration: Jewish women grinding corn.]When the people of the house want to eat, they put a tray of food onthe wooden stool, and they sit round the tray on the floor, and eatwith theirhands.  People in Palestine would not know what to do withtables and chairs, and knives and forks, like ours.The streets of Nazareth are long and narrow, and they are full ofchickens and dogs, of donkeys and camels,of blind beggars andchildren.  There are little shops by the side of the streets, somethinglike the _leewans_ in the inn which I told you about.  But the tailors,the shoemakers, the carpenters, and the coffee-grinders donot alwayssit in their shops.  They like to sit on the ground outside, and dotheir work in the street; and the sellers of dates and of figs, beans,barley, oranges, and other things, sit down in the street to selltheirgoods.Joseph, Mary's husband, was a carpenter, and Jesus became a carpenter,and often came out of the little shop and sat on the ground with plane,hammer, glue, and saw, and worked away in the narrowstreet, just asthe carpenters of Nazareth do now.When the Jewish boys were twelve years old, they were called 'Sons ofthe Law,' and they were taken to Jerusalem for the Passover.  WhenJesus was twelve years old,Joseph and His mother took Him up with themto the Passover.  When the week was over, Mary and Joseph started forthe journey back to Nazareth.  But Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem.Thousands of people musthave been leaving Jerusalem just at the verytime that Mary and Joseph went away.  So when Mary and Joseph did notsee Jesus in the crush, they did not at first feel frightened.  Theythought, 'We shall find Him soonwith some of our friends.'  All daylong they kept on looking for Him in the crowd, but they did not seeHim.  And at last they went back again to Jerusalem looking for Him.Next day they found Him in one of the courts ofthe Temple.  SeveralRabbis were there, and everyone who saw and heard Him was astonished.They asked Him questions too, and He answered them wisely and well.Nobody could understand how a young boy could beso wise.When Mary and Joseph saw Jesus sitting here, with Rabbis coming allaround Him, they were greatly surprised.  But His mother asked Him whyHe had stayed behind, and said, 'Thy father and I have soughtTheesorrowing.'  Jesus said to His mother, 'HOW IS IT THAT YE HAVE SOUGHTME?  WIST YE NOT (DID YOU NOT KNOW) THAT I MUST BE ABOUT MY FATHER'SBUSINESS?'And now He went back with her and withJoseph to Nazareth, and obeyedthem, exactly as He always had done.  We do not know much more aboutJesus when He was a boy.  But we do know that as He grew taller, He'increased in wisdom and stature, and infavour with God and man.'CHAPTER IVJOHN THE BAPTISTYou remember about the child that was called John.  Zacharias, hisfather, and Elisabeth gave John to God directly he was born.  Theynever cut his hair, andthey never let him drink wine, or eat grapes,or eat raisins.  That was the way they did in those days to show thathe belonged to God.When John was old enough to understand, he gave himself to God.  And ashe grewolder, he made up his mind that he would leave his home andfriends, and go and live in the wilderness; and his food there waslocusts and wild honey.  Locusts are like large grasshoppers, and poorpeople in the Eastoften eat them.  They taste like shrimps, but arenot so nice.God had said that John should go before the Messiah to prepare the wayfor Him--to get people's hearts ready for the Saviour.  And when Johnwas in thewilderness, God told him to begin his work.  So John wentdown from the wild hills of Judaea to the River Jordan, and he began topreach to everyone who passed by.  There were many people passing by,for he went tothe place where people crossed the Jordan.[Illustration: The River Jordan.]John said, REPENT!' (that means, 'Be really sorry for your sins'), 'FORTHE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN is AT HAND.'  A very great many people wentfromJerusalem, and out of all the land of Judaea, on purpose to hear Johnpreaching.  And when they had heard him, some of them said to him,'What shall we do then?'  And John told them that they were to be kindtoone another; that they were to give food to the hungry and clothingto the naked.Some even of the proud Rabbis came down to the Jordan to John, and Johntold these Rabbis that they must not be proud because theywere Jews,but must try to be good really and truly.A great many of the people who heard John preach felt sorry for thethings they had done, and they told John how sorry they were, and Johnbaptized them in the River


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of Self-control, by Mary BruntonThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under theterms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.orgTitle: Self-controlAuthor: Mary BruntonRelease Date: October 27, 2012 [EBook #41196]Language: English*** START OFTHIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELF-CONTROL ***Produced by Delphine Lettau, fh and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net    SELF-CONTROL    _A Novel by_    MARY BRUNTON    Hiswarfare is within.--There unfatigued    His fervent spirit labours.--There he fights,    And there obtains fresh triumphs o'er himself,    And never-withering wreaths, compared with which    The laurels that a Caesar reapsare weeds                                                   Cowper                           TO                   MISS JOANNA BAILLIEMADAM,You would smile to hear the insect of a day pay the tribute of itspraise to the lasting oak whichaided its first feeble soaring--Smilethen;--for a person whom nature, fortune, and inclination, alike, havemarked for obscurity, one whose very name may never reach your ear,offers this tribute of respect to the authorof PLAYS on the PASSIONS.The pleasure of expressing heart-felt admiration is not, however, myonly motive for inscribing this tale to you. Unknown to the world bothas an individual and as an author, I own myselfdesirous of giving apledge of spotless intention in my work, by adorning it with the name ofone whose writings force every unvitiated heart to glow with a warmerlove of virtue. On one solitary point I claim equality withyou:--Inpurity of intention I yield not even to JOANNA BAILLIE.May I venture to avow another feeling which has prompted this intrusion?What point so small that vanity cannot build on it a resting-place! Willyou believethat this trifle claims affinity with the Plays on thePassions?--Your portraitures of the progress and of the consequences ofpassion,--portraitures whose exquisite truth gives them the force ofliving examples,--arepowerful warnings to watch the first risings ofthe insidious rebel. No guard but one is equal to the task. Theregulation of the passions is the province, it is the triumph ofRELIGION. In the character of Laura Montrevillethe religious principleis exhibited as rejecting the bribes of ambition; bestowing fortitude inwant and sorrow; as restraining just displeasure; overcomingconstitutional timidity; conquering misplaced affection; andtriumphingover the fear of death and of disgrace.This little tale was begun at first merely for my own amusement. It ispublished that I may reconcile my conscience to the time which it hasemployed, by making it insome degree useful. Let not the term soimplied provoke a smile! If my book is read, its uses to the author areobvious. Nor is a work of fiction necessarily unprofitable to thereaders. When the vitiated appetite refuses itsproper food, thealternative may be administered in a sweetmeat. It may be imprudent toconfess the presence of the medicine, lest the sickly palate, thuswarned, turn from it in loathing. But I rely in this instance ontheworld of the philosopher, who avers that 'young ladies never readprefaces'; and I am not without hope, that with you, and with all whoform exceptions to this rule, the avowal of a useful purpose may beaninducement to tolerate what otherwise might be thought unworthy ofregard.Perhaps in an age whose lax morality, declining the glorious toils ofvirtue, is poorly 'content to dwell in decencies for ever', emulationmaybe repressed by the eminence which the character of Laura claimsover the ordinary standard of the times. A virtue which, thoughessentially Christian, is certainly not very popular in this Christiancountry, may bestigmatized as romantic; a chilling term of reproach,which has blighted many a fair blossom of goodness ere it ripened intofruit. Perhaps some of my fair countrywomen, finding it difficult totrace in the delineation ofSelf-Control any striking feature of theirown minds, may pronounce my picture unnatural. It might be enough toreply, that I do not ascribe any of the virtues of Laura to nature, and,least of all, the one whose office is toregulate and control nature.But if my principal figure want the air, and vivacity of life, the blamelies in the painter, not in the subject. Laura is indebted to fancy forher drapery and attitudes alone. I have had thehappiness of witnessing,in real life, a self-command operating with as much force, permanence,and uniformity, as that which is depicted in the following volumes. Toyou, Madam, I should perhaps further apologize forhaving left in mymodel some traces of human imperfection; while, for the generality of myreaders, I breathe a fervent wish, that these pages may assist inenabling their own hearts to furnish proof that the character ofLaura,however unnatural, is yet not unattainable.  I have the honour to be,    with great respect,      Madam,        Your obedient Servant,          The AUTHOR                                          January1811.CONTENTS  Chapter I               1  Chapter II             10  Chapter III            18  Chapter IV             23  Chapter V              33  Chapter VI             39  Chapter VII            45  Chapter VIII           56  ChapterIX             62  Chapter X              73  Chapter XI             82  Chapter XII            90  Chapter XIII          102  Chapter XIV           116  Chapter XV            132  Chapter XVI           147  Chapter XVII          161  ChapterXVIII         185  Chapter XIX           201  Chapter XX            215  Chapter XXI           229  Chapter XXII          242  Chapter XXIII         260  Chapter XXIV          270  Chapter XXV           283  ChapterXXVI          298  Chapter XXVII         312  Chapter XXVIII        329  Chapter XXIX          346  Chapter XXX           367  Chapter XXXI          387  Chapter XXXII         402  Chapter XXXIII        413  ChapterXXXIV         426CHAPTER IIt was on a still evening in June, that Laura Montreville left herfather's cottage, in the little village of Glenalbert, to begin asolitary ramble. Her countenance was mournful, and her steplanguid; forher health had suffered from long confinement, and her spirits wereexhausted by long attendance on the deathbed of her mother. That labourof duty had been lessened by no extrinsic circumstance; for LadyHarrietMontreville was a peevish and refractory patient; her disorder had beentedious as well as hopeless; and the humble establishment of a half-payofficer furnished no one who could lighten to Laura the burdenofconstant attendance. But Laura had in herself that which softens alldifficulty, and beguiles all fatigue--an active mind, a strong sense ofduty, and the habit of meeting and of overcoming adverse circumstances.CaptainMontreville was of a family ancient and respectable, but so farfrom affluent, that, at the death of his father, he found his wealth, asa younger son, to consist only of Â£500, besides the emoluments arisingfrom alieutenancy in a regiment of foot. Nature had given him a fineperson and a pleasing address; and to the national opinions of a Scotishmother, he was indebted for an education, of which the liberality suitedbetter withhis birth than with his fortunes. He was in Londonnegotiating for the purchase of a company, when he accidentally met withLady Harriet Bircham. Her person was shewy, and her manners had theglare, even more thanthe polish of high life. She had a livelyimagination, and some wit; had read a little, and knew how to shew thatlittle to advantage. The fine person of Montreville soon awakened theonly sort of sensibility of which LadyHarriet was possessed; and herpreference was sufficiently visible in every step of its progress. To bedistinguished by a lady of such rank and attractions, raised inMontreville all the vanity of three-and-twenty; and, seenthrough thatmedium, Lady Harriet's charms were magnified to perfections. Montrevillesoon was, or fancied himself, desperately in love. He sued, and wasaccepted with a frankness, to which some stiff advocates forfemaledecorum might give the harsh name of forwardness. Montreville was inlove, and he was pleased to call it the candour of a noble mind.As his regiment was at this time under orders for the West Indies,LadyHarriet prevailed on him to exchange to half-pay; and her fortune beingno more than Â£5000, economy, no less than the fondness for solitudenatural in young men in love, induced him to retire to the countrywithhis bride, who had reasons of her own for wishing to quit London. He hadbeen educated in Scotland, and he remembered its wild scenery with theenthusiasm of a man of taste, and a painter. He settled therefore inthevillage of Glenalbert, near Perth; and to relieve his conscience fromthe load of utter idleness at twenty-three, began the superintendence ofa little farm. Here the ease and vivacity of Lady Harriet made her for awhilethe delight of her new acquaintance. She understood all the artsof courtesy; and, happy herself, was for a while content to practisethem. The store of anecdote, which she had accumulated in herintercourse with thegreat, passed with her country neighbours forknowledge of the world. To Scotish ears, the accent of the higher ranksof English conveys an idea of smartness, as well as of gentility; andLady Harriet became an universalfavourite.Those who succeed best in amusing strangers, are not, it has beenremarked, the most pleasing in domestic life: they are not even alwaysthe most entertaining. Lady Harriet's spirits had ebbs, whichcommonlytook place during her tÃªte-Ã -tÃªtes with Captain Montreville. Outwardattractions, real or imaginary, are the natural food of passion: butsound principles must win confidence, and kindness of heartengageaffection. Poor Montreville soon gave a mournful assent to these truths;for Lady Harriet had no principles, and her heart was a mere 'pulsationon the left side.' Her passion for her husband soon declined; andhermore permanent appetite for admiration finding but scanty food in asolitary village, her days passed in secret discontent or openmurmurings. The narrowness of their finances made her feel the necessityof economy,though it could not immediately instruct her in the art ofit; and Montreville, driven from domestic habits by the turmoil of ahousehold, bustling without usefulness, and parsimonious withoutfrugality, was on the point ofreturning to his profession, or ofseeking relief in such dissipation as he had the means of obtaining,when the birth of a daughter gave a new turn to all his hopes andwishes.'I should not wish the girl to be a beauty,' saidhe to his friend, thevillage pastor. 'A pretty face is of no use, but to blind a lover';--andhe sighed, as he recollected his own blindness. Yet he was delighted tosee that Laura grew every day more lovely. 'Wit only makeswomentroublesome,' said he;--but before Laura was old enough to shew theuncommon acuteness of her understanding, he had quite forgotten that heever applied the remark to her. To amuse her infancy became hischosenrecreation; to instruct her youth was afterwards his favouriteemployment. Lady Harriet, too, early began to seek food for her vanityin the superior endowments of her child, and she forthwith determinedthatLaura should be a paragon. To perfect her on Nature's plan, neverentered the head of this judicious matron; she preferred a plan of herown, and scorned to be indebted to the assistance of nature, even forany part ofthe perfect structure which she resolved to rear. The temperof Laura, uniformly calm and placid, was by nature slightly inclined toobstinacy. Lady Harriet had predetermined that her daughter should be amodel ofyielding softness. Laura's spirits were inexhaustible; LadyHarriet thought nothing so interesting as a pensive beauty. Laura wasboth a reasonable and a reasoning creature: her mother chose that sheshould use thelatter faculty in every instance, except where maternalauthority or opinion was concerned. Innumerable difficulties, therefore,opposed Lady Harriet's system; and as violent measures ever occur firstto those who aredestitute of other resources, she had recourse to somany blows, disgraces, and deprivations, as must have effectually ruinedthe temper and dispositions of her pupil, if Laura had not soon learntto look upon theungoverned anger of her mother as a disease, to whichshe owed pity and concealment. This lesson was taught her partly by theexample of her father, partly by the admonitions of Mrs Douglas, wife tothe clergyman ofthe parish.This lady was in every respect Lady Harriet's opposite. Of sound sense,rather than of brilliant abilities; reserved in her manners, gentle inher temper, pious, humble, and upright; she spent her life inthediligent and unostentatious discharge of Christian and feminine duty;beloved without effort to engage the love, respected without care tosecure the praise of man. She had always treated the little Laura withmorethan common tenderness; and the child, unused to the fascinationsof feminine kindness, repaid her attention with the utmost enthusiasm oflove and veneration. With her she passed every moment allowed herforrecreation; to her she applied in every little difficulty; from her shesolicited every childish indulgence. The influence of this excellentwoman increased with Laura's age, till her approbation became essentialto thepeace of her young friend, who instinctively sought to read, inthe expressive countenance of Mrs Douglas, an opinion of all her wordsand actions. Mrs Douglas, ever watchful for the good of all whoapproached her, usedevery effort to render this attachment as useful asit was delightful, and gradually laid the foundation of the mostvaluable qualities in the mind of Laura. By degrees she taught her toknow and to love the Author of herbeing, to adore him as the bestowerof all her innocent pleasures, to seek his favour, or to tremble at hisdisapprobation in every hour of her life. Lady Harriet had been educatedamong those who despised or neglectedthe peculiar tenets of theChristian faith; she never thought of them, therefore, but as an affairthat gave scope to lively argument. On Mrs Douglas's own mind they hadtheir proper effect; and she convinced Laura thatthey were not subjectsfor cavil, but for humble and thankful acceptation.In as far as the religious character can be traced to causes merelynatural, it may be formed by those who obtain over a mind of sensibilityandreflection the influence which affection bestows, provided that theyare themselves duly impressed with the importance, the harmony, theexcellence of what they teach. Laura early saw the Christian doctrines,preceptsand promises, warm the heart, and guide the conduct, andanimate the hopes of her whom she loved best. Sympathy and imitation,the strongest tendencies of infancy, first formed the disposition whichreasonafterwards strengthened into principle, and Laura grew up a piousChristian.It is the fashion of the age to account for every striking feature of acharacter from education or external circumstance. Those who are fondofsuch speculations may trace, if they can, the self-denying habits ofLaura, to the eagerness with which her enthusiastic mind imbibed thestories of self-devoting patriots and martyrs, and may find, in onelesson of herpreceptress, the tint which coloured her future days. Thechild had been reading a narrative of the triumphant death of one of thefirst reformers, and, full of the emulation which the tale of heroicvirtue inspires,exclaimed, her eyes flashing through their tears, herlittle form erect with noble daring,--'Let them persecute me and I willbe a martyr.' 'You may be so now, to-day, every day,' returned MrsDouglas. 'It was not at thestake that these holy men began theirself-denial. They had before taken up their cross daily; and whenever,from a regard to duty, you resign any thing that is pleasing or valuableto you, you are for the time a littlemartyr.'In a solitary village, remote from her equals in age and rank, Lauranecessarily lived much alone, and in solitude she acquired a grave andcontemplative turn of mind. Far from the scenes of dissipationandfrivolity, conversant with the grand and the sublime in nature, hersentiments assumed a corresponding elevation. She had heard that therewas vice in the world: she knew that there was virtue in it; and,littleacquainted with other minds, deeply studious of her own, she concludedthat all mankind were, like herself, engaged in a constant endeavourafter excellence; that success in this struggle was at once virtueandhappiness, while failure included misery as well as guilt. The habit ofself-examination, early formed, and steadily maintained, made evenvenial trespass appear the worst of evils;--while, in the labours ofduty and thepleasures of devotion, she found joys which sometimes roseto rapture.The capricious unkindness of her mother gave constant exercise to herfortitude and forbearance, while the principle of charity, no less thanthefeelings of benevolence, led to frequent efforts of self-denial. Thelatter virtue became daily more necessary, for mismanagement had nowbrought her mother's fortune almost to a close; and Captain Montreville,while hefelt that she was injuring his child, could not prevail onhimself to withhold from Lady Harriet the control of what he consideredher own, especially as her health was such as to afford a plea forindulgence.Laura hadreached her sixteenth year, when Mr Douglas was induced, by alarger benefice, to remove to a parish almost twenty miles distant fromGlenalbert; and parting with her early friend, was the severest sorrowthat Laurahad ever yet known. Captain Montreville promised, however,that his daughter should often visit the new parsonage; but LadyHarriet's increasing illness long prevented the performance of hispromise. After aconfinement of many months she died, and was lamentedby her husband, with that sort of sorrow which it usually costs a man topart with an object which he is accustomed to see, when he knows that heshall see it nomore.It was on the third evening after her mother's funeral, that CaptainMontreville prevailed on his daughter to take a solitary walk. Slowlyshe ascended the hill that overlooked the village, and, stopping nearits brow,looked back towards the churchyard, to observe a brown hillockthat marked the spot where her mother slept. Tears filled her eyes, as,passing over long intervals of unkindness, she recollected some casualproof ofmaternal love; and they fell fast as she remembered, that forthat love she could now make no return. She turned to proceed;--and themoist eye sparkled with pleasure, the faded cheek glowed with more thanthe flushof health, when, springing towards her, she beheld theelegant, the accomplished, Colonel Hargrave. Forgotten was languor;forgotten was sorrow; for Laura was just seventeen, and Colonel Hargravewas the mostardent, the most favoured of lovers. His person wassymmetry itself; his manners had all the fascination that vivacity andintelligence, joined to the highest polish, can bestow. His love forLaura suited with theimpetuosity of his character, and for more than ayear he had laboured with assiduity and success to inspire a passioncorresponding to his own. Yet it was not Hargrave whom Laura loved; forthe being on whom shedoated had no resemblance to him, but inexternals. It was a creature of her own imagination, pure as her ownheart, yet impassioned as the wildest dreams of fiction,--intenselysusceptible of pleasure, and keenly aliveto pain, yet ever ready tosacrifice the one and to despise the other. This ideal being, clothedwith the fine form, and adorned with the insinuating manners, andanimated with the infectious love of Hargrave, what heart ofwoman couldresist? Laura's was completely captivated.Hargrave, charmed with her consummate loveliness, pleased with hercheerful good sense, and fascinated with her matchless simplicity, atfirst sought her societywithout thought but of present gratification,till he was no longer master of himself. He possessed an ample fortune,besides the near prospect of a title; and nothing was farther from histhoughts, than to make the poorunknown Laura a sharer in theseadvantages. But Hargrave was not yet a villain, and he shuddered at thethought of seduction. 'I will see her only _once_ more', said he, 'andthen tear myself from her for ever.'--'Onlythis once,' said he, whileday after day he continued to visit her,--to watch with delight, and tocherish with eager solicitude, the tenderness which, amidst her dailyincreasing reserve, his practised eye could distinguish.The passionwhich we do not conquer, will in time reconcile us to any means thatcan aid its gratification. 'To leave her now would be dishonourable, itwould be barbarous,' was his answer to his remonstrating conscience,ashe marked the glow of her complexion at his approach, the tremor of herhand at his pressure. 'I cannot, indeed, make her my wife. The womanwhom I marry, must assist in supporting the rank which she is to fill.But


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Condition of the Working-Class in Englandin 1844, by Frederick Engels, Translated by Florence Kelley WischnewetzkyThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost andwithalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.netTitle: The Condition of theWorking-Class in England in 1844       with a Preface written in 1892Author: Frederick EngelsRelease Date: December 13, 2005  [eBook #17306]Language: EnglishCharacter set encoding: ISO-646-US(US-ASCII)***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CONDITION OF THE WORKING-CLASSIN ENGLAND IN 1844***Transcribed from the January 1943 George Allen & Unwin reprint of theMarch 1892edition by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.ukThe Condition of the Working-Class in England in 1844With a Preface written in 1892byFREDERICK ENGELS_Translated by Florence KelleyWischnewetzky__London_GEORGE ALLEN & UNWIN LTD_Museum Street_PREFACEThe book, an English translation of which is here republished, was firstissued in Germany in 1845.  The author, at that time, wasyoung, twenty-four years of age, and his production bears the stamp of his youth withits good and its faulty features, of neither of which he feels ashamed.It was translated into English, in 1885, by an American lady,Mrs. F.Kelley Wischnewetzky, and published in the following year in New York.The American edition being as good as exhausted, and having never beenextensively circulated on this side of the Atlantic, the presentEnglishcopyright edition is brought out with the full consent of all partiesinterested.For the American edition, a new Preface and an Appendix were written inEnglish by the author.  The first had little to do with the bookitself;it discussed the American Working-Class Movement of the day, and is,therefore, here omitted as irrelevant, the second--the originalpreface--is largely made use of in the present introductory remarks.The state ofthings described in this book belongs to-day, in manyrespects, to the past, as far as England is concerned.  Though notexpressly stated in our recognised treatises, it is still a law of modernPolitical Economy that thelarger the scale on which CapitalisticProduction is carried on, the less can it support the petty devices ofswindling and pilfering which characterise its early stages.  Thepettifogging business tricks of the Polish Jew, therepresentative inEurope of commerce in its lowest stage, those tricks that serve him sowell in his own country, and are generally practised there, he finds tobe out of date and out of place when he comes to Hamburg orBerlin; and,again, the commission agent, who hails from Berlin or Hamburg, Jew orChristian, after frequenting the Manchester Exchange for a few months,finds out that, in order to buy cotton yarn or cloth cheap, he,too, hadbetter drop those slightly more refined but still miserable wiles andsubterfuges which are considered the acme of cleverness in his nativecountry.  The fact is, those tricks do not pay any longer in a largemarket,where time is money, and where a certain standard of commercialmorality is unavoidably developed, purely as a means of saving time andtrouble.  And it is the same with the relation between the manufacturerand his"hands."The revival of trade, after the crisis of 1847, was the dawn of a newindustrial epoch.  The repeal of the Corn Laws and the financial reformssubsequent thereon gave to English industry and commerce all theelbow-room they had asked for.  The discovery of the Californian and Australiangold-fields followed in rapid succession.  The Colonial markets developedat an increasing rate their capacity for absorbing Englishmanufacturedgoods.  In India millions of hand-weavers were finally crushed out by theLancashire power-loom.  China was more and more being opened up.  Aboveall, the United States--then, commercially speaking, amere colonialmarket, but by far the biggest of them all--underwent an economicdevelopment astounding even for that rapidly progressive country.  And,finally, the new means of communication introduced at the closeof thepreceding period--railways and ocean steamers--were now worked out on aninternational scale; they realised actually, what had hitherto existedonly potentially, a world-market.  This world-market, at first,wascomposed of a number of chiefly or entirely agricultural countriesgrouped around one manufacturing centre--England--which consumed thegreater part of their surplus raw produce, and supplied them in returnwiththe greater part of their requirements in manufactured articles.  Nowonder England's industrial progress was colossal and unparalleled, andsuch that the status of 1844 now appears to us as comparatively primitiveandinsignificant.  And in proportion as this increase took place, in thesame proportion did manufacturing industry become apparently moralised.The competition of manufacturer against manufacturer by means ofpettythefts upon the workpeople did no longer pay.  Trade had outgrown suchlow means of making money; they were not worth while practising for themanufacturing millionaire, and served merely to keep alivethecompetition of smaller traders, thankful to pick up a penny wherever theycould.  Thus the truck system was suppressed, the Ten Hours' Bill wasenacted, and a number of other secondary reforms introduced--muchagainstthe spirit of Free Trade and unbridled competition, but quite as much infavour of the giant-capitalist in his competition with his less favouredbrother.  Moreover, the larger the concern, and with it the numberofhands, the greater the loss and inconvenience caused by every conflictbetween master and men; and thus a new spirit came over the masters,especially the large ones, which taught them to avoidunnecessarysquabbles, to acquiesce in the existence and power of Trades' Unions, andfinally even to discover in strikes--at opportune times--a powerful meansto serve their own ends.  The largest manufacturers,formerly the leadersof the war against the working-class, were now the foremost to preachpeace and harmony.  And for a very good reason.  The fact is, that allthese concessions to justice and philanthropy werenothing else but meansto accelerate the concentration of capital in the hands of the few, forwhom the niggardly extra extortions of former years had lost allimportance and had become actual nuisances; and to crush allthe quickerand all the safer their smaller competitors, who could not make both endsmeet without such perquisites.  Thus the development of production on thebasis of the capitalistic system has of itself sufficed--atleast in theleading industries, for in the more unimportant branches this is far frombeing the case--to do away with all those minor grievances whichaggravated the workman's fate during its earlier stages.  And thusitrenders more and more evident the great central fact, that the cause ofthe miserable condition of the working-class is to be sought, not inthese minor grievances, but _in the Capitalistic Systemitself_.  Thewage-worker sells to the capitalist his labour-force for a certain dailysum.  After a few hours' work he has reproduced the value of that sum;but the substance of his contract is, that he has to work anotherseriesof hours to complete his working-day; and the value he produces duringthese additional hours of surplus labour is surplus value, which cost thecapitalist nothing, but yet goes into his pocket.  That is the basisofthe system which tends more and more to split up civilised society into afew Rothschilds and Vanderbilts, the owners of all the means ofproduction and subsistence, on the one hand, and an immense numberofwage-workers, the owners of nothing but their labour-force, on the other.And that this result is caused, not by this or that secondary grievance,but by the system itself--this fact has been brought out in bold reliefbythe development of Capitalism in England since 1847.Again, the repeated visitations of cholera, typhus, smallpox, and otherepidemics have shown the British bourgeois the urgent necessity ofsanitation in his towns andcities, if he wishes to save himself andfamily from falling victims to such diseases.  Accordingly, the mostcrying abuses described in this book have either disappeared or have beenmade less conspicuous.  Drainage hasbeen introduced or improved, wideavenues have been opened out athwart many of the worst "slums" I had todescribe.  "Little Ireland" has disappeared, and the "Seven Dials" arenext on the list for sweeping away.  Butwhat of that?  Whole districtswhich in 1844 I could describe as almost idyllic, have now, with thegrowth of the towns, fallen into the same state of dilapidation,discomfort, and misery.  Only the pigs and the heaps ofrefuse are nolonger tolerated.  The bourgeoisie have made further progress in the artof hiding the distress of the working-class.  But that, in regard totheir dwellings, no substantial improvement has taken place, isamplyproved by the Report of the Royal Commission "on the Housing of thePoor," 1885.  And this is the case, too, in other respects.  Policeregulations have been plentiful as blackberries; but they can only hedgein thedistress of the workers, they cannot remove it.But while England has thus outgrown the juvenile state of capitalistexploitation described by me, other countries have only just attained it.France, Germany, and especiallyAmerica, are the formidable competitorswho, at this moment--as foreseen by me in 1844--are more and morebreaking up England's industrial monopoly.  Their manufactures are youngas compared with those ofEngland, but increasing at a far more rapidrate than the latter; and, curious enough, they have at this momentarrived at about the same phase of development as English manufacture in1844.  With regard to America,the parallel is indeed most striking.True, the external surroundings in which the working-class is placed inAmerica are very different, but the same economical laws are at work, andthe results, if not identical in everyrespect, must still be of the sameorder.  Hence we find in America the same struggles for a shorter working-day, for a legal limitation of the working-time, especially of women andchildren in factories; we find thetruck-system in full blossom, and thecottage-system, in rural districts, made use of by the "bosses" as ameans of domination over the workers.  When I received, in 1886, theAmerican papers with accounts of the greatstrike of 12,000 Pennsylvaniancoal-miners in the Connellsville district, I seemed but to read my owndescription of the North of England colliers' strike of 1844.  The samecheating of the workpeople by false measure;the same truck-system; thesame attempt to break the miners' resistance by the capitalists' last,but crushing, resource,--the eviction of the men out of their dwellings,the cottages owned by the companies.I have notattempted, in this translation, to bring the book up to date,or to point out in detail all the changes that have taken place since1844.  And for two reasons: Firstly, to do this properly, the size of thebook must be aboutdoubled; and, secondly, the first volume of "DasKapital," by Karl Marx, an English translation of which is before thepublic, contains a very ample description of the state of the Britishworking-class, as it was about 1865,that is to say, at the time whenBritish industrial prosperity reached its culminating point.  I should,then, have been obliged again to go over the ground already covered byMarx's celebrated work.It will be hardlynecessary to point out that the general theoreticalstandpoint of this book--philosophical, economical, political--does notexactly coincide with my standpoint of to-day.  Modern internationalSocialism, since fullydeveloped as a science, chiefly and almostexclusively through the efforts of Marx, did not as yet exist in 1844.  Mybook represents one of the phases of its embryonic development; and asthe human embryo, in its earlystages, still reproduces the gill-archesof our fish-ancestors, so this book exhibits everywhere the traces of thedescent of modern Socialism from one of its ancestors,--Germanphilosophy.  Thus great stress is laid on thedictum that Communism isnot a mere party doctrine of the working-class, but a theory compassingthe emancipation of society at large, including the capitalist class,from its present narrow conditions.  This is trueenough in the abstract,but absolutely useless, and sometimes worse, in practice.  So long as thewealthy classes not only do not feel the want of any emancipation, butstrenuously oppose the self-emancipation of theworking-class, so longthe social revolution will have to be prepared and fought out by theworking-class alone.  The French bourgeois of 1789, too, declared theemancipation of the bourgeoisie to be the emancipation ofthe whole humanrace; but the nobility and clergy would not see it; theproposition--though for the time being, with respect to feudalism, anabstract historical truth--soon became a mere sentimentalism, anddisappearedfrom view altogether in the fire of the revolutionarystruggle.  And to-day, the very people who, from the "impartiality" oftheir superior standpoint, preach to the workers a Socialism soaring highabove their classinterests and class struggles, and tending to reconcilein a higher humanity the interests of both the contending classes--thesepeople are either neophytes, who have still to learn a great deal, orthey are the worstenemies of the workers,--wolves in sheeps' clothing.The recurring period of the great industrial crisis is stated in the textas five years.  This was the period apparently indicated by the course ofevents from 1825 to1842.  But the industrial history from 1842 to 1868has shown that the real period is one of ten years; that the intermediaterevulsions were secondary, and tended more and more to disappear.  Since1868 the state ofthings has changed again, of which more anon.I have taken care not to strike out of the text the many prophecies,amongst others that of an imminent social revolution in England, which myyouthful ardour induced meto venture upon.  The wonder is, not that agood many of them proved wrong, but that so many of them have provedright, and that the critical state of English trade, to be brought on byContinental and especiallyAmerican competition, which I thenforesaw--though in too short a period--has now actually come to pass.  Inthis respect I can, and am bound to, bring the book up to date, byplacing here an article which I published inthe _London Commonweal_ ofMarch 1, 1885, under the heading: "England in 1845 and in 1885."  Itgives at the same time a short outline of the history of the Englishworking-class during these forty years, and is asfollows:   "Forty years ago England stood face to face with a crisis, solvable to   all appearances by force only.  The immense and rapid development of   manufactures had outstripped the extension of foreign marketsand the   increase of demand.  Every ten years the march of industry was   violently interrupted by a general commercial crash, followed, after a   long period of chronic depression, by a few short years ofprosperity,   and always ending in feverish over-production and consequent renewed   collapse.  The capitalist class clamoured for Free Trade in corn, and   threatened to enforce it by sending the starving population ofthe   towns back to the country districts whence they came, to invade them,   as John Bright said, not as paupers begging for bread, but as an army   quartered upon the enemy.  The working masses of the townsdemanded   their share of political power--the People's Charter; they were   supported by the majority of the small trading class, and the only   difference between the two was whether the Charter should be carried   byphysical or by moral force.  Then came the commercial crash of 1847   and the Irish famine, and with both the prospect of revolution   "The French Revolution of 1848 saved the English middle-class.  The   Socialisticpronunciamentos of the victorious French workmen   frightened the small middle-class of England and disorganised the   narrower, but more matter-of-fact movement of the English   working-class.  At the verymoment when Chartism was bound to assert   itself in its full strength, it collapsed internally, before even it   collapsed externally on the 10th of April, 1848.  The action of the   working-class was thrust into thebackground.  The capitalist class   triumphed along the whole line.   "The Reform Bill of 1831 had been the victory of the whole capitalist   class over the landed aristocracy.  The repeal of the Corn Laws was   the victoryof the manufacturing capitalist not only over the landed   aristocracy, but over those sections of capitalists, too, whose   interests were more or less bound up with the landed   interest,--bankers, stock-jobbers,fund-holders, etc.  Free Trade   meant the re-adjustment of the whole home and foreign, commercial and   financial policy of England in accordance with the interests of the   manufacturing capitalists--the class whichnow represented the nation.   And they set about this task with a will.  Every obstacle to   industrial production was mercilessly removed.  The tariff and the   whole system of taxation were revolutionised.  Everythingwas made   subordinate to one end, but that end of the utmost importance to the   manufacturing capitalist: the cheapening of all raw produce, and   especially of the means of living of the working-class; thereduction   of the cost of raw material, and the keeping down--if not as yet the   _bringing down_--of wages.  England was to become the 'workshop of the   world;' all other countries were to become for England whatIreland   already was,--markets for her manufactured goods, supplying her in   return with raw materials and food.  England the great manufacturing   centre of an agricultural world, with an ever-increasing numberof   corn and cotton-growing Irelands revolving around her, the industrial   sun.  What a glorious prospect!   "The manufacturing capitalists set about the realisation of this their   great object with that strong commonsense and that contempt for   traditional principles which has ever distinguished them from their   more narrow-minded compeers on the Continent.  Chartism was dying out.   The revival of commercial prosperity,natural after the revulsion of   1847 had spent itself, was put down altogether to the credit of Free   Trade.  Both these circumstances had turned the English working-class,   politically, into the tail of the 'great Liberalparty,' the party led   by the manufacturers.  This advantage, once gained, had to be   perpetuated.  And the manufacturing capitalists, from the Chartist   opposition, not to Free Trade, but to the transformation of FreeTrade   into the one vital national question, had learnt, and were learning   more and more, that the middle-class can never obtain full social and   political power over the nation except by the help ofthe   working-class.  Thus a gradual change came over the relations between   both classes.  The Factory Acts, once the bugbear of all   manufacturers, were not only willingly submitted to, but their   expansion intoacts regulating almost all trades, was tolerated.   Trades' Unions, hitherto considered inventions of the devil himself,   were now petted and patronised as perfectly legitimate institutions,   and as useful means ofspreading sound economical doctrines amongst   the workers.  Even strikes, than which nothing had been more nefarious   up to 1848, were now gradually found out to be occasionally very   useful, especially whenprovoked by the masters themselves, at their   own time.  Of the legal enactments, placing the workman at a lower   level or at a disadvantage with regard to the master, at least the   most revolting wererepealed.  And, practically, that horrid 'People's   Charter' actually became the political programme of the very   manufacturers who had opposed it to the last.  'The Abolition of the   Property Qualification' and 'Vote byBallot' are now the law of the   land.  The Reform Acts of 1867 and 1884 make a near approach to   'universal suffrage,' at least such as it now exists in Germany; the   Redistribution Bill now before Parliament creates'equal electoral   districts'--on the whole not more unequal than those of Germany;   'payment of members,' and shorter, if not actually 'annual   Parliaments,' are visibly looming in the distance--and yet thereare   people who say that Chartism is dead.   "The Revolution of 1848, not less than many of its predecessors, has   had strange bedfellows and successors.  The very people who put it   down have become, as KarlMarx used to say, its testamentary   executors.  Louis Napoleon had to create an independent and united   Italy, Bismarck had to revolutionise Germany and to restore Hungarian   independence, and the English


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Old Wives' Tale, by Arnold BennettThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use itunder the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.netTitle: The Old Wives' TaleAuthor: Arnold BennettPosting Date: November 28, 2011 [EBook #5247]Release Date:March, 2004First Posted: June 10, 2002[Last Updated: December 8, 2011]Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OLD WIVES' TALE ***Produced by Charles Franks and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading TeamThe Old Wives' TaleArnold BennettTo W. W. K.PREFACE TO THIS EDITIONIn the autumn of 1903 I used to dine frequently in a restaurant in theRue de Clichy, Paris. Here were, amongothers, two waitresses thatattracted my attention. One was a beautiful, pale young girl, to whom Inever spoke, for she was employed far away from the table which Iaffected. The other, a stout, middle-aged managingBreton woman, hadsole command over my table and me, and gradually she began to assumesuch a maternal tone towards me that I saw I should be compelled toleave that restaurant. If I was absent for a couple ofnights runningshe would reproach me sharply: "What! you are unfaithful to me?" Once,when I complained about some French beans, she informed me roundly thatFrench beans were a subject which I did notunderstand. I then decidedto be eternally unfaithful to her, and I abandoned the restaurant. Afew nights before the final parting an old woman came into therestaurant to dine. She was fat, shapeless, ugly, andgrotesque. Shehad a ridiculous voice, and ridiculous gestures. It was easy to seethat she lived alone, and that in the long lapse of years she haddeveloped the kind of peculiarity which induces guffaws amongthethoughtless. She was burdened with a lot of small parcels, which shekept dropping. She chose one seat; and then, not liking it, choseanother; and then another. In a few moments she had the wholerestaurantlaughing at her. That my middle-aged Breton should laugh wasindifferent to me, but I was pained to see a coarse grimace of gigglingon the pale face of the beautiful young waitress to whom I had neverspoken.Ireflected, concerning the grotesque diner: "This woman was onceyoung, slim, perhaps beautiful; certainly free from these ridiculousmannerisms. Very probably she is unconscious of her singularities. Hercase is atragedy. One ought to be able to make a heartrending novelout of the history of a woman such as she." Every stout, ageing womanis not grotesque--far from it!--but there is an extreme pathos in themere fact thatevery stout ageing woman was once a young girl with theunique charm of youth in her form and movements and in her mind. Andthe fact that the change from the young girl to the stout ageing womanis made up of aninfinite number of infinitesimal changes, eachunperceived by her, only intensifies the pathos.It was at this instant that I was visited by the idea of writing thebook which ultimately became "The Old Wives' Tale." Ofcourse I feltthat the woman who caused the ignoble mirth in the restaurant would notserve me as a type of heroine. For she was much too old and obviouslyunsympathetic. It is an absolute rule that the principalcharacter of anovel must not be unsympathetic, and the whole modern tendency ofrealistic fiction is against oddness in a prominent figure. I knew thatI must choose the sort of woman who would pass unnoticed in acrowd.I put the idea aside for a long time, but it was never very distantfrom me. For several reasons it made a special appeal to me. I hadalways been a convinced admirer of Mrs. W. K. Clifford's most preciousnovel,"Aunt Anne," but I wanted to see in the story of an old womanmany things that Mrs. W. K. Clifford had omitted from "Aunt Anne."Moreover, I had always revolted against the absurd youthfulness, theunfadingyouthfulness of the average heroine. And as a protest againstthis fashion, I was already, in 1903, planning a novel ("Leonora") ofwhich the heroine was aged forty, and had daughters old enough to be inlove. Thereviewers, by the way, were staggered by my hardihood inoffering a woman of forty as a subject of serious interest to thepublic. But I meant to go much farther than forty! Finally as a supremereason, I had theexample and the challenge of Guy de Maupassant's "UneVie." In the nineties we used to regard "Une Vie" with mute awe, asbeing the summit of achievement in fiction. And I remember being verycross with Mr. BernardShaw because, having read "Une Vie" at thesuggestion (I think) of Mr. William Archer, he failed to see in itanything very remarkable. Here I must confess that, in 1908, I read"Une Vie" again, and in spite of a naturalanxiety to differ from Mr.Bernard Shaw, I was gravely disappointed with it. It is a fine novel,but decidedly inferior to "Pierre et Jean" or even "Fort Comme laMort." To return to the year 1903. "Une Vie" relates the entirelifehistory of a woman. I settled in the privacy of my own head that mybook about the development of a young girl into a stout old lady mustbe the English "Une Vie." I have been accused of every fault except alack ofself-confidence, and in a few weeks I settled a further point,namely, that my book must "go one better" than "Une Vie," and that tothis end it must be the life-history of two women instead of only one.Hence, "The OldWives' Tale" has two heroines. Constance was theoriginal; Sophia was created out of bravado, just to indicate that Ideclined to consider Guy de Maupassant as the last forerunner of thedeluge. I was intimidated by theaudacity of my project, but I hadsworn to carry it out. For several years I looked it squarely in theface at intervals, and then walked away to write novels of smallerscope, of which I produced five or six. But I could notdally forever,and in the autumn of 1907 I actually began to write it, in a villagenear Fontainebleau, where I rented half a house from a retired railwayservant. I calculated that it would be 200,000 words long (whichitexactly proved to be), and I had a vague notion that no novel of suchdimensions (except Richardson's) had ever been written before. So Icounted the words in several famous Victorian novels, and discovered tomyrelief that the famous Victorian novels average 400,000 wordsapiece. I wrote the first part of the novel in six weeks. It was fairlyeasy to me, because, in the seventies, in the first decade of my life,I had lived in theactual draper's shop of the Baines's, and knew it asonly a child could know it. Then I went to London on a visit. I triedto continue the book in a London hotel, but London was too distracting,and I put the thing away, andduring January and February of 1908, Iwrote "Buried Alive," which was published immediately, and was receivedwith majestic indifference by the English public, an indifference whichhas persisted to this day.I thenreturned to the Fontainebleau region and gave "The Old Wives'Tale" no rest till I finished it at the end of July, 1908. It waspublished in the autumn of the same year, and for six weeks afterwardthe English publicsteadily confirmed an opinion expressed by a certainperson in whose judgment I had confidence, to the effect that the workwas honest but dull, and that when it was not dull it had a regrettabletendency tofacetiousness. My publishers, though brave fellows, weresomewhat disheartened; however, the reception of the book graduallybecame less and less frigid.With regard to the French portion of the story, it was not until Ihadwritten the first part that I saw from a study of my chronologicalbasis that the Siege of Paris might be brought into the tale. The ideawas seductive; but I hated, and still hate, the awful business ofresearch; and Ionly knew the Paris of the Twentieth Century. Now I wasaware that my railway servant and his wife had been living in Paris atthe time of the war. I said to the old man, "By the way, you wentthrough the Siege of Paris,didn't you?" He turned to his old wife andsaid, uncertainly, "The Siege of Paris? Yes, we did, didn't we?" TheSiege of Paris had been only one incident among many in their lives. Ofcourse, they remembered it well,though not vividly, and I gained muchinformation from them. But the most useful thing which I gained fromthem was the perception, startling at first, that ordinary people wenton living very ordinary lives in Parisduring the siege, and that tothe vast mass of the population the siege was not the dramatic,spectacular, thrilling, ecstatic affair that is described in history.Encouraged by this perception, I decided to include the siege inmyscheme. I read Sarcey's diary of the siege aloud to my wife, and Ilooked at the pictures in Jules Claretie's popular work on the siegeand the commune, and I glanced at the printed collection of officialdocuments, andthere my research ended.It has been asserted that unless I had actually been present at apublic execution, I could not have written the chapter in which Sophiawas at the Auxerre solemnity. I have not been present ata publicexecution, as the whole of my information about public executions wasderived from a series of articles on them which I read in the ParisMatin. Mr. Frank Harris, discussing my book in "Vanity Fair," said itwasclear that I had not seen an execution, (or words to that effect),and he proceeded to give his own description of an execution. It was abrief but terribly convincing bit of writing, quite characteristic andquite worthy ofthe author of "Montes the Matador" and of a man who hasbeen almost everywhere and seen almost everything. I comprehended howfar short I had fallen of the truth! I wrote to Mr. Frank Harris,regretting that hisdescription had not been printed before I wrotemine, as I should assuredly have utilized it, and, of course, Iadmitted that I had never witnessed an execution. He simply replied:"Neither have I." This detail is worthpreserving, for it is a reproofto that large body of readers, who, when a novelist has really carriedconviction to them, assert off hand: "O, that must be autobiography!"ARNOLD BENNETT.CONTENTSBOOK I.MRS.BAINES   I. THE SQUARE  II. THE TOOTH III. A BATTLE  IV. ELEPHANT   V. THE TRAVELLER  VI. ESCAPADE VII. A DEFEATBOOK II.CONSTANCE   I. REVOLUTION  II. CHRISTMAS AND THE FUTURE III. CYRIL  IV.CRIME   V. ANOTHER CRIME  VI. THE WIDOW VII. BRICKS AND MORTARVIII. THE PROUDEST MOTHERBOOK III.SOPHIA   I. THE ELOPEMENT  II. SUPPER III. AN AMBITION SATISFIED  IV. A CRISIS FOR GERALD   V.FEVER  VI. THE SIEGE VII. SUCCESSBOOK IV.WHAT LIFE IS   I. FRENSHAM'S  II. THE MEETING III. TOWARDS HOTEL LIFE  IV. END OF SOPHIA   V. END OF CONSTANCEBOOK IMRS. BAINESCHAPTER ITHESQUAREIThose two girls, Constance and Sophia Baines, paid no heed to themanifold interest of their situation, of which, indeed, they had neverbeen conscious. They were, for example, established almost preciselyonthe fifty-third parallel of latitude. A little way to the north ofthem, in the creases of a hill famous for its religious orgies, rosethe river Trent, the calm and characteristic stream of middle England.Somewhat furthernorthwards, in the near neighbourhood of the highestpublic-house in the realm, rose two lesser rivers, the Dane and theDove, which, quarrelling in early infancy, turned their backs on eachother, and, the one by favourof the Weaver and the other by favour ofthe Trent, watered between them the whole width of England, and pouredthemselves respectively into the Irish Sea and the German Ocean. What acounty of modest, unnoticedrivers! What a natural, simple county,content to fix its boundaries by these tortuous island brooks, withtheir comfortable names--Trent, Mease, Dove, Tern, Dane, Mees, Stour,Tame, and even hasty Severn! Not that theSevern is suitable to thecounty! In the county excess is deprecated. The county is happy in notexciting remark. It is content that Shropshire should possess thatswollen bump, the Wrekin, and that the exaggeratedwildness of the Peakshould lie over its border. It does not desire to be a pancake likeCheshire. It has everything that England has, including thirty miles ofWatling Street; and England can show nothing more beautifuland nothinguglier than the works of nature and the works of man to be seen withinthe limits of the county. It is England in little, lost in the midst ofEngland, unsung by searchers after the extreme; perhapsoccasionallysomewhat sore at this neglect, but how proud in the instinctivecognizance of its representative features and traits!Constance and Sophia, busy with the intense preoccupations of youth,recked not of suchmatters. They were surrounded by the county. Onevery side the fields and moors of Staffordshire, intersected by roadsand lanes, railways, watercourses and telegraph-lines, patterned byhedges, ornamented and maderespectable by halls and genteel parks,enlivened by villages at the intersections, and warmly surveyed by thesun, spread out undulating. And trains were rushing round curves indeep cuttings, and carts and waggonstrotting and jingling on theyellow roads, and long, narrow boats passing in a leisure majestic andinfinite over the surface of the stolid canals; the rivers had onlythemselves to support, for Staffordshire rivers haveremained virgin ofkeels to this day. One could imagine the messages concerning prices,sudden death, and horses, in their flight through the wires under thefeet of birds. In the inns Utopians were shouting the universeintoorder over beer, and in the halls and parks the dignity of England wasbeing preserved in a fitting manner. The villages were full of womenwho did nothing but fight against dirt and hunger, and repair theeffects offriction on clothes. Thousands of labourers were in thefields, but the fields were so broad and numerous that this scatteredmultitude was totally lost therein. The cuckoo was much moreperceptible than man, dominatingwhole square miles with his resoundingcall. And on the airy moors heath-larks played in the ineffaceablemule-tracks that had served centuries before even the Romans thought ofWatling Street. In short, the usual dailylife of the county wasproceeding with all its immense variety and importance; but thoughConstance and Sophia were in it they were not of it.The fact is, that while in the county they were also in the district;and noperson who lives in the district, even if he should be old andhave nothing to do but reflect upon things in general, ever thinksabout the county. So far as the county goes, the district might almostas well be in the middleof the Sahara. It ignores the county, savethat it uses it nonchalantly sometimes as leg-stretcher on holidayafternoons, as a man may use his back garden. It has nothing in commonwith the county; it is richly sufficientto itself. Nevertheless, itsself-sufficiency and the true salt savour of its life can only beappreciated by picturing it hemmed in by county. It lies on the face ofthe county like an insignificant stain, like a dark Pleiades in agreenand empty sky. And Hanbridge has the shape of a horse and its rider,Bursley of half a donkey, Knype of a pair of trousers, Longshaw of anoctopus, and little Turnhill of a beetle. The Five Towns seem toclingtogether for safety. Yet the idea of clinging together for safety wouldmake them laugh. They are unique and indispensable. From the north ofthe county right down to the south they alone stand forcivilization,applied science, organized manufacture, and the century--until you cometo Wolverhampton. They are unique and indispensable because you cannotdrink tea out of a teacup without the aid of the Five Towns;becauseyou cannot eat a meal in decency without the aid of the Five Towns. Forthis the architecture of the Five Towns is an architecture of ovens andchimneys; for this its atmosphere is as black as its mud; for thisitburns and smokes all night, so that Longshaw has been compared to hell;for this it is unlearned in the ways of agriculture, never having seencorn except as packing straw and in quartern loaves; for this, on theotherhand, it comprehends the mysterious habits of fire and pure,sterile earth; for this it lives crammed together in slippery streetswhere the housewife must change white window-curtains at least once afortnight if shewishes to remain respectable; for this it gets up inthe mass at six a.m., winter and summer, and goes to bed when thepublic-houses close; for this it exists--that you may drink tea out ofa teacup and toy with a chop ona plate. All the everyday crockery usedin the kingdom is made in the Five Towns--all, and much besides. Adistrict capable of such gigantic manufacture, of such a perfectmonopoly--and which finds energy also toproduce coal and iron andgreat men--may be an insignificant stain on a county, consideredgeographically, but it is surely well justified in treating the countyas its back garden once a week, and in blindly ignoring it therest ofthe time.Even the majestic thought that whenever and wherever in all England awoman washes up, she washes up the product of the district; thatwhenever and wherever in all England a plate is broken thefracturemeans new business for the district--even this majestic thought hadprobably never occurred to either of the girls. The fact is, that whilein the Five Towns they were also in the Square, Bursley and theSquareignored the staple manufacture as perfectly as the district ignored thecounty. Bursley has the honours of antiquity in the Five Towns. Noindustrial development can ever rob it of its superiority in age, whichmakesit absolutely sure in its conceit. And the time will never comewhen the other towns--let them swell and bluster as they may--will notpronounce the name of Bursley as one pronounces the name of one'smother. Add tothis that the Square was the centre of Bursley's retailtrade (which scorned the staple as something wholesale, vulgar, andassuredly filthy), and you will comprehend the importance and theself-isolation of the Square inthe scheme of the created universe.There you have it, embedded in the district, and the district embeddedin the county, and the county lost and dreaming in the heart of England!The Square was named after St. Luke.The Evangelist might have beenstartled by certain phenomena in his square, but, except in Wakes Week,when the shocking always happened, St. Luke's Square lived in a mannerpassably saintly--though it containedfive public-houses. It containedfive public-houses, a bank, a barber's, a confectioner's, threegrocers', two chemists', an ironmonger's, a clothier's, and fivedrapers'. These were all the catalogue. St. Luke's Square hadno roomfor minor establishments. The aristocracy of the Square undoubtedlyconsisted of the drapers (for the bank was impersonal); and among thefive the shop of Baines stood supreme. No business establishmentcouldpossibly be more respected than that of Mr. Baines was respected. Andthough John Baines had been bedridden for a dozen years, he still livedon the lips of admiring, ceremonious burgesses as 'ourhonouredfellow-townsman.' He deserved his reputation.The Baines's shop, to make which three dwellings had at intervals beenthrown into one, lay at the bottom of the Square. It formed aboutone-third of the southside of the Square, the remainder being made upof Critchlow's (chemist), the clothier's, and the Hanover SpiritVaults. ("Vaults" was a favourite synonym of the public-house in theSquare. Only two of the public-houseswere crude public-houses: therest were "vaults.") It was a composite building of three storeys, inblackish-crimson brick, with a projecting shop-front and, above andbehind that, two rows of little windows. On the sashof each window wasa red cloth roll stuffed with sawdust, to prevent draughts; plain whiteblinds descended about six inches from the top of each window. Therewere no curtains to any of the windows save one; this wasthe window ofthe drawing-room, on the first floor at the corner of the Square andKing Street. Another window, on the second storey, was peculiar, inthat it had neither blind nor pad, and was very dirty; this wasthewindow of an unused room that had a separate staircase to itself, thestaircase being barred by a door always locked. Constance and Sophiahad lived in continual expectation of the abnormal issuing fromthatmysterious room, which was next to their own. But they weredisappointed. The room had no shameful secret except the incompetenceof the architect who had made one house out of three; it was just anempty,unemployable room. The building had also a considerable frontageon King Street, where, behind the shop, was sheltered the parlour, witha large window and a door that led directly by two steps into thestreet. Astrange peculiarity of the shop was that it bore nosignboard. Once it had had a large signboard which a memorable gale hadblown into the Square. Mr. Baines had decided not to replace it. He hadalways objected to


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                                                                          THEWOODSMAN                                       Based on the play by                                                 Steven Fechter                                            Writtenby                                 Steven Fechter & Nicole Kassell                                          Winner 1st Prize 2001 Slamdance ScreenplayCompetition                                                                                July 30, 2002                                        BEGIN TITLES - OPENING SEQUENCEMONTAGE                      Over black we HEAR the rhythmic sound of machinery. This          sound will continue throughout the title sequence as other          sounds fade in and out. We move forward andback in time.                    EXT. APARTMENT - DAY                    A sparrow flutters in birdseed on a window sill. More birds          crowd a bird feeder that hangsabove.                    EXT. SCHOOL PLAYGROUND - DAY                    A lone child swings lazily on a swing. Other children tear          about in a wild game ofchase.                    INT. LUMBERYARD WAREHOUSE - DAY                    CLOSE on a piece of wood as it is fed through a wood chipper.                    A man finishes feeding the loginto the chipper. He pauses to          wipe the sweat and grime from his face. He is WALTER, early          forties, features handsome but hardened by time.                    INT. BUS - EARLYMORNING                    Walter is silhouetted by the early morning light. He holds a          duffel bag in his lap and watches out the bus window.                    The sun is just rising over thehorizon, streaks of pink and          purple graze the frosted ground. Wilderness gives way to          frozen farmland.                    INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - DAY                    Walterstands at a counter, a female officer fingerprints          each finger.                    EXT. LUMBERYARD - DAY                    Walter and some other men drop the side of the flatbedtruck          and trees crash to theground.                                                                                2.                                        EXT. BUS STOP -DAY                    The bus pulls away, revealing Walter standing alone on the          sidewalk of a dilapidated neighborhood. He holds his duffle          bag.                    INT. WAREHOUSE -DUSK                    The 5 o'clock whistle BLOWS. Workers hustle to get their          coats and punch out. Walter stands in line, keeping to          himself. As his turn arrives to punch out he receives arough          knock by two guys play-fighting behind him. Walter doesn't          react, punches out, and exits the door.                    Vicki, a tough-looking but striking woman, stands in line a          little furtherback watching.                              EXT./INT. APARTMENT - DAY                    A superintendent opens the door to an apartment, then hands          Walter the keys. Her gaze iscold.                    Walter closes the door and turns around. He stands in the          middle of a prefab/pre-furnished kitchen, living room area.          Light works its way through the dilapidatedblinds.                    INT. LUMBERYARD OFFICE - DAY                    Walter shakes the boss's hand -- BOB, early thirties,          strapping and trim, is the manager of thebusiness.                    MARY-KAY, the secretary, looks up from her typing and takes          Walter in. Bob introduces them. She is in her early forties.          Walter follows Bob from the office, Mary-Kaywatches as they          leave.                    INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT                    There is a flash as a camera snaps a photo.                    Walter is captured in a photograph,standing against a baby-          blue background.                                                                                3.                                        INT.WALTER'S APARTMENT - DAY                    Walter lifts the blinds. The birds flutter away.                                                                         CUT TO:                    Walterstands under the shower.                                                                         CUT TO:                    Walter, hair wet and clean shaven, tosses back somepills.                    EXT. WAREHOUSE - DUSK                    Tires SCREECH as cars tear out of the driveway. Walter stands          at a bus stop across the street.                    AsVicki walks across the lot, a car pulls up next to her and          men catcall and whistle out the window.                    Vicki flicks them off. The men burst into hysterics and peal          out of the lot. She gets inher Jeep and leaves, tearing by          the bus stop.                     Walter looks after her then turns his collar up against the          chill. It is late winter. The trees are bare -- black          silhouettes against thedarkening sky.                    Walter turns towards the shelter for protection from the          wind. Filling the kiosk, a clothing advertisement displays a          young girl striking a seductivepose.                    INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - DAY                    CLOSE on a police file. A mug shot reveals Walter, many years          younger. Pages are flipped through giving glimpsesof newspaper          clippings as well as typed documents. Words stand out --          "Convicted, 1st degree --," "3 counts --," "served --."                    A plain clothes officer closes the folder and looks outhis          office window where Walter stands being fingerprinted. This          is Sergeant LUCAS, mid-fifties, face creased andgreying          hair.                                                                                4.                                        INT. BUS -DAY                    Walter watches out the window as farmland gives way to city.          Traffic builds, billboards line the highway.                    INT. LUMBERYARD WAREHOUSE -DAY                    Details of machines cutting the wood.                    INT. WALTER'S APARTMENT - DAY                    Walter fills the bird feeder withbirdseed.                    There is the SOUND of children playing, and Walter looks up.                    Walter's POV: Across the way, children play outside ofthe          school.                    Walter watches then closes his window.                    EXT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - DAY                    Walter exits the police station and crosses thestreet.                    INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT                    CLOSE on fingers typing on a keyboard.                    A computer screen shows Walter's image -- the photojust          taken of him against the blue background. Words appear across          the screen as they are typed, creating an Internet          notification page:                    Released: 02/25/02 QualifyingOffense(s):____________                    We MOVE in on the photo of Walter till it fills the frame.                    FREEZE FRAME. All sound fades out.                    The title "THE WOODSMAN"fades in.                    END TITLES                                                                                5.                                        INT. OFFICE - NIGHT                    Walter sits in a small windowless office with his coat still          on. He looks at someone offscreen.                                             MAN (0.S.)                         So. How are you adjusting?                                             WALTER                         I'm adjustingokay.                                             MAN (O.S.)                         And your new apartment?                                             WALTER                         Apartment'sokay.                                             MAN (O.S.)                         Are you taking your medication?                                             WALTER                         It gives meheadaches.                                             MAN (O.S.)                         But you are takingit?                                             WALTER                         Yeah.                    Across from Walter, sits ROSEN, young, awkward and clearly          new to the profession, jotting somethingdown in a notepad.                                              ROSEN                         Good. I'll talk to your physician                         about the headaches. Maybe he can                         change theprescription.                    Walter doesn't say anything.                                             ROSEN (cont'd)                         And how's yourjob?                                             WALTER                         The job's okay.                                                                                (CONTINUED)                                                                                6.          CONTINUED:                                                       ROSEN                         Do I take "okay" to mean you feel                         good about workingthere?                                             WALTER                         I said the job is okay.                                             ROSEN                             (smiling)                         That'sright, you did.                              pause)                         Have you made any friends there?                                             WALTER                         I'm not running for Mr.Popularity.                                             ROSEN                             (pause)                         You seem a little hostile