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Excerpt from Jane Eyre

Chapter XXVIII

But next day, Want came to me pale and bare.  Long after the little birds had left their nests; long after bees had come in the sweet prime of day to gather the heath honey before the dew was dried--when the long morning shadows were curtailed, and the sun filled earth and sky--I got up, and I looked round me.

What a still, hot, perfect day!  What a golden desert this spreading moor!  Everywhere sunshine.  I wished I could live in it and on it. I saw a lizard run over the crag; I saw a bee busy among the sweet bilberries.  I would fain at the moment have become bee or lizard, that I might have found fitting nutriment, permanent shelter here. But I was a human being, and had a human being’s wants:  I must not linger where there was nothing to supply them.  I rose; I looked back at the bed I had left.  Hopeless of the future, I wished but this--that my Maker had that night thought good to require my soul of me while I slept; and that this weary frame, absolved by death from further conflict with fate, had now but to decay quietly, and mingle in peace with the soil of this wilderness.  Life, however, was yet in my possession, with all its requirements, and pains, and responsibilities.  The burden must be carried; the want provided for; the suffering endured; the responsibility fulfilled.  I set out.

Whitcross regained, I followed a road which led from the sun, now fervent and high.  By no other circumstance had I will to decide my choice.  I walked a long time, and when I thought I had nearly done enough, and might conscientiously yield to the fatigue that almost overpowered me--might relax this forced action, and, sitting down on a stone I saw near, submit resistlessly to the apathy that clogged heart and limb--I heard a bell chime--a church bell.

I turned in the direction of the sound, and there, amongst the romantic hills, whose changes and aspect I had ceased to note an hour ago, I saw a hamlet and a spire.  All the valley at my right
hand was full of pasture-fields, and cornfields, and wood; and a glittering stream ran zig-zag through the varied shades of green, the mellowing grain, the sombre woodland, the clear and sunny lea. Recalled by the rumbling of wheels to the road before me, I saw a heavily-laden wagon labouring up the hill, and not far beyond were two cows and their drover.  Human life and human labour were near. I must struggle on: strive to live and bend to toil like the rest.

About two o’clock p.m. I entered the village.  At the bottom of its one street there was a little shop with some cakes of bread in the window.  I coveted a cake of bread.  With that refreshment I could perhaps regain a degree of energy:  without it, it would be difficult to proceed.  The wish to have some strength and some vigour returned to me as soon as I was amongst my fellow-beings.  I felt it would be degrading to faint with hunger on the causeway of a hamlet.  Had I nothing about me I could offer in exchange for one of these rolls?  I considered.  I had a small silk handkerchief tied round my throat; I had my gloves.  I could hardly tell how men and women in extremities of destitution proceeded.  I did not know whether either of these articles would be accepted:  probably they would not; but I must try.

I entered the shop:  a woman was there.  Seeing a respectably-dressed person, a lady as she supposed, she came forward with civility.  How could she serve me?  I was seized with shame:  my tongue would not utter the request I had prepared.  I dared not offer her the half-worn gloves, the creased handkerchief: besides, I felt it would be absurd.  I only begged permission to sit down a moment, as I was tired.  Disappointed in the expectation of a customer, she coolly acceded to my request.  She pointed to a seat; I sank into it.  I felt sorely urged to weep; but conscious how
unseasonable such a manifestation would be, I restrained it.  Soon I asked her "if there were any dressmaker or plain-workwoman in the village?"

"Yes; two or three.  Quite as many as there was employment for."

I reflected.  I was driven to the point now.  I was brought face to face with Necessity.  I stood in the position of one without a resource, without a friend, without a coin.  I must do something. What?  I must apply somewhere.  Where?

"Did she know of any place in the neighbourhood where a servant was wanted?"

"Nay; she couldn’t say."

"What was the chief trade in this place?  What did most of the people do?"

"Some were farm labourers; a good deal worked at Mr. Oliver’s needle-factory, and at the foundry."

"Did Mr. Oliver employ women?"

"Nay; it was men’s work."

"And what do the women do?"

"I knawn’t," was the answer.  "Some does one thing, and some another.  Poor folk mun get on as they can."

She seemed to be tired of my questions:  and, indeed, what claim had I to importune her?  A neighbour or two came in; my chair was evidently wanted.  I took leave. I passed up the street, looking as I went at all the houses to the right hand and to the left; but I could discover no pretext, nor see an inducement to enter any.  I rambled round the hamlet, going
sometimes to a little distance and returning again, for an hour or more.  Much exhausted, and suffering greatly now for want of food, I turned aside into a lane and sat down under the hedge.  Ere many minutes had elapsed, I was again on my feet, however, and again searching something-a resource, or at least an informant.  A pretty little house stood at the top of the lane, with a garden before it, exquisitely neat and brilliantly blooming.  I stopped at it.  What business had I to approach the white door or touch the glittering knocker?  In what way could it possibly be the interest of the inhabitants of that dwelling to serve me?  Yet I drew near and knocked.  A mild-looking, cleanly-attired young woman opened the door.  In such a voice as might be expected from a hopeless heart and fainting frame--a voice wretchedly low and faltering--I asked if a servant was wanted here?

"No," said she; "we do not keep a servant."

"Can you tell me where I could get employment of any kind?" I continued. "I am a stranger, without acquaintance in this place.  I want some work: no matter what."

But it was not her business to think for me, or to seek a place for me: besides, in her eyes, how doubtful must have appeared my character, position, tale.  She shook her head, she "was sorry she could give me no information," and the white door closed, quite gently and civilly:  but it shut me out.  If she had held it open a little longer, I believe I should have begged a piece of bread; for I was now brought low.

I could not bear to return to the sordid village, where, besides, no prospect of aid was visible.  I should have longed rather to deviate to a wood I saw not far off, which appeared in its thick shade to offer inviting shelter; but I was so sick, so weak, so gnawed with nature’s cravings, instinct kept me roaming round abodes where there was a chance of food.  Solitude would be no solitude--rest no rest--while the vulture, hunger, thus sank beak and talons in my side.

I drew near houses; I left them, and came back again, and again I wandered away: always repelled by the consciousness of having no claim to ask--no right to expect interest in my isolated lot. Meantime, the afternoon advanced, while I thus wandered about like a lost and starving dog.  In crossing a field, I saw the church spire before me:  I hastened towards it.  Near the churchyard, and in the middle of a garden, stood a well-built though small house, which I
had no doubt was the parsonage.  I remembered that strangers who arrive at a place where they have no friends, and who want employment, sometimes apply to the clergyman for introduction and aid.  It is the clergyman’s function to help--at least with advice--those who wished to help themselves.  I seemed to have something like a right to seek counsel here.  Renewing then my courage, and gathering my feeble remains of strength, I pushed on.  I reached the house, and knocked at the kitchen-door.  An old woman opened:  I asked was this the parsonage?

"Yes."

"Was the clergyman in?"

"No."

"Would he be in soon?"

"No, he was gone from home."

"To a distance?"

"Not so far--happen three mile.  He had been called away by the sudden death of his father:  he was at Marsh End now, and would very likely stay there a fortnight longer."

"Was there any lady of the house?"

"Nay, there was naught but her, and she was housekeeper;" and of her, reader, I could not bear to ask the relief for want of which I was sinking; I could not yet beg; and again I crawled away.

Once more I took off my handkerchief--once more I thought of the cakes of bread in the little shop.  Oh, for but a crust! for but one mouthful to allay the pang of famine!  Instinctively I turned my face again to the village; I found the shop again, and I went in; and though others were there besides the woman I ventured the request—"Would she give me a roll for this handkerchief?"

She looked at me with evident suspicion:  "Nay, she never sold stuff I’ that way."

Almost desperate, I asked for half a cake; she again refused.  "How could she tell where I had got the handkerchief?" she said.

"Would she take my gloves?"

"No! what could she do with them?"

Reader, it is not pleasant to dwell on these details.  Some say there is enjoyment in looking back to painful experience past; but at this day I can scarcely bear to review the times to which I
allude:  the moral degradation, blent with the physical suffering, form too distressing a recollection ever to be willingly dwelt on. I blamed none of those who repulsed me.  I felt it was what was to be expected, and what could not be helped:  an ordinary beggar is frequently an object of suspicion; a well-dressed beggar inevitably so.  To be sure, what I begged was employment; but whose business was it to provide me with employment?  Not, certainly, that of persons who saw me then for the first time, and who knew nothing about my character.  And as to the woman who would not take my handkerchief in exchange for her bread, why, she was right, if the offer appeared to her sinister or the exchange unprofitable.  Let me condense now.  I am sick of the subject.

A little before dark I passed a farm-house, at the open door of which the farmer was sitting, eating his supper of bread and cheese. I stopped and said -

"Will you give me a piece of bread? for I am very hungry."  He cast on me a glance of surprise; but without answering, he cut a thick slice from his loaf, and gave it to me.  I imagine he did not think I was a beggar, but only an eccentric sort of lady, who had taken a fancy to his brown loaf.  As soon as I was out of sight of his house, I sat down and ate it.

I could not hope to get a lodging under a roof, and sought it in the wood I have before alluded to.  But my night was wretched, my rest broken:  the ground was damp, the air cold:  besides, intruders passed near me more than once, and I had again and again to change my quarters; no sense of safety or tranquility befriended me. Towards morning it rained; the whole of the following day was wet. Do not ask me, reader, to give a minute account of that day; as before, I sought work; as before, I was repulsed; as before, I starved; but once did food pass my lips.  At the door of a cottage I saw a little girl about to throw a mess of cold porridge into a pig trough. "Will you give me that?" I asked.

She stared at me.  "Mother!" she exclaimed, "There is a woman wants me to give her these porridge."

"Well lass," replied a voice within, "give it her if she’s a beggar. The pig doesn’t want it."

The girl emptied the stiffened mould into my hand, and I devoured it ravenously.

As the wet twilight deepened, I stopped in a solitary bridle-path, which I had been pursuing an hour or more.

"My strength is quite failing me," I said in a soliloquy.  "I feel I cannot go much farther.  Shall I be an outcast again this night? While the rain descends so, must I lay my head on the cold, drenched ground?  I fear I cannot do otherwise:  for who will receive me? But it will be very dreadful, with this feeling of hunger, faintness, chill, and this sense of desolation--this total
prostration of hope.  In all likelihood, though, I should die before morning.  And why cannot I reconcile myself to the prospect of death?  Why do I struggle to retain a valueless life?  Because I know, or believe, Mr. Rochester is living: and then, to die of want and cold is a fate to which nature cannot submit passively.  Oh, Providence! sustain me a little longer!  Aid!--direct me!"

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Excerpt from Oliver Twist

Chapter II

Poor Oliver! He little thought, as he lay sleeping in happy unconsciousness of all around him, that the board had that very day arrived at a decision which would exercise the most material
influence over all his future fortunes. But they had. And this was it:

The members of this board were very sage, deep, philosophical men; and when they came to turn their attention to the workhouse, they found out at once, what ordinary folks would never have
discovered--the poor people liked it! It was a regular place of public entertainment for the poorer classes; a tavern where there was nothing to pay; a public breakfast, dinner, tea, and supper all the year round; a brick and mortar elysium, where it was all play and no work. ‘Oho!’ said the board, looking very knowing; ‘we are the fellows to set this to rights; we’ll stop it all, in no time.’ So, they established the rule, that all poor people should have the alternative (for they would compel nobody, not they), of being starved by a gradual process in the house, or by a quick one out of it. With this view, they contracted with the water-works to lay on an unlimited supply of water; and with a corn-factor to supply periodically small quantities of oatmeal; and issued three meals of thin gruel a day, with an onion twice a week, and half a roll on Sundays. They made a great many other wise and humane regulations, having reference to the ladies, which it is not necessary to repeat; kindly undertook to divorce poor married people, in consequence of the great expense of a suit in Doctors’ Commons; and, instead of compelling a man to support his family, as they had theretofore done, took his family away from him, and made him a bachelor! There is no saying how many applicants for relief, under these last two heads, might have started up in all classes of society, if it had not been coupled with the workhouse; but the board were long-headed men, and had provided for this difficulty. The relief was inseparable from the workhouse and the gruel; and that frightened people.

For the first six months after Oliver Twist was removed, the system was in full operation. It was rather expensive at first, in consequence of the increase in the undertaker’s bill, and the necessity of taking in the clothes of all the paupers, which fluttered loosely on their wasted, shrunken forms, after a week or two’s gruel. But the number of workhouse inmates got thin as well as the paupers; and the board were in ecstasies.

The room in which the boys were fed, was a large stone hall, with a copper at one end: out of which the master, dressed in an apron for the purpose, and assisted by one or two women, ladled
the gruel at mealtimes. Of this festive composition each boy had one porringer, and no more-except on occasions of great public rejoicing, when he had two ounces and a quarter of bread besides.

The bowls never wanted washing. The boys polished them with their spoons till they shone again; and when they had performed this operation (which never took very long, the spoons being nearly as large as the bowls), they would sit staring at the copper, with such eager eyes, as if they could have devoured the very bricks of which it was composed; employing themselves, meanwhile, in sucking their fingers most assiduously, with the view of catching up any stray splashes of gruel that might have been cast thereon. Boys have generally excellent appetites. Oliver Twist and his companions suffered the tortures of slow starvation for three months: at last they got so voracious and wild with hunger, that one boy, who was tall for his age, and hadn’t been used to that sort of thing (for his father had kept a small cook-shop), hinted darkly to his companions, that unless he had another basin of gruel per diem, he was afraid he might some night happen to eat the boy who slept next him, who happened to be a weakly youth of tender age. He had a wild, hungry eye; and they implicitly believed him. A council was held; lots were cast who should walk up to the master after supper that evening, and ask for more; and it fell to Oliver Twist.

The evening arrived; the boys took their places. The master, in his cook’s uniform, stationed himself at the copper; his pauper assistants ranged themselves behind him; the gruel was served
out; and a long grace was said over the short commons. The gruel disappeared; the boys whispered each other, and winked at Oliver; while his next neighbours nudged him. Child as he was, he was desperate with hunger, and reckless with misery. He rose from the table; and advancing to the master, basin and spoon in hand, said: somewhat alarmed at his own temerity:

‘Please, sir, I want some more.’

The master was a fat, healthy man; but he turned very pale. He gazed in stupified astonishment on the small rebel for some seconds, and then clung for support to the copper. The assistants were paralysed with wonder; the boys with fear.

‘What!’ said the master at length, in a faint voice.

‘Please, sir,’ replied Oliver, ‘I want some more.’

The master aimed a blow at Oliver’s head with the ladle; pinioned him in his arm; and shrieked aloud for the beadle.

The board were sitting in solemn conclave, when Mr. Bumble rushed into the room in great excitement, and addressing the gentleman in the high chair, said,

‘Mr. Limbkins, I beg your pardon, sir! Oliver Twist has asked for more!’

There was a general start. Horror was depicted on every countenance.

‘For MORE!’ said Mr. Limbkins. ‘Compose yourself, Bumble, and answer me distinctly. Do I understand that he asked for more, after he had eaten the supper allotted by the dietary?’

‘He did, sir,’ replied Bumble.

‘That boy will be hung,’ said the gentleman in the white waistcoat. ‘I know that boy will be hung.’

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Facts on Global Hunger 2003

• Despite the fact that there is enough food in the world today to sufficiently feed every person on earth, hunger affects one out of every seven people.
• According to the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, the minimum caloric intake per person per day is 2,350. Worldwide, there is enough food for every person to have 2,805 calories per day. Fifty-four countries fall below the minimum caloric requirement.
• More than 840 million people are malnourished.
• 799 million of them are from developing countries.
• More than 153 million of them are under the age of 5.
• Every 3.6 seconds someone dies of hunger.
• Approximately half of the world’s hungry people live on the Indian subcontinent while Africa and the rest of Asia contain approximately 40% of the world’s hungry people.
• There are 6.2 billion people in the world today. 1.2 billion of these people live on less than $1 per day.
• The amount of money earned by the richest 1% of the world’s people each year is equal to the amount earned by the poorest 57%.
• In terms of quantity, wealthy people eat four times the amount of food consumed by poor people.
• Worldwide, women are the sole breadwinners in one of three households; however, seven out of every ten people who are hungry are women or children.
• Six million children under the age of five die every year as a result of hunger.
• In developing countries, 91 children out of 1000 die before their 5^th birthday.
• In the United States, 8 children out of 1000 under the age of five will die.
• The price of one missile would feed a school of hungry children a daily lunch for five years.
• In 1997 alone, the lives of at least 300,000 children were saved by vitamin A supplementation programs.
• Research shows that nutritional deprivation in young children leads to impaired physical growth, brain development and cognitive functioning resulting in long-term mental and physical problems.
• A child who is hungry has a greater risk of not fulfilling his or her future potential than other children.
• Eight out of 10 people engaged in farming in Africa are women and six out of 10 in Asia.

Bread for the World: www.bread.org

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Reasons for Global Hunger

In the November 1996 issue of Population Today, a publication of the UN Population Information Network, some of the following reasons were given for hunger around world:

• Poverty
• Population Growth
• Natural disasters
• Wars
• Migration/ displacement of populations
• Mismanagement of natural resources
• Inadequate supply of domestically grown foods
• High cost of importing foods
• Free market policies favoring exports over production for domestic use
• Concentration of land and capital in the hands of few
• Control of food trade by multi-national corporations
• Excessive consumption by affluent people in industrialized countries (and emulative peers in developing world)
• Women’s lack of access to credit, markets, technical advice, education and health care
• Earth reaching limits for food production

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Homework Assignment

The following arguments for and against a program to cut global hunger in half by the year 2015 were taken from the report of a survey issue by Bread for the World Institute. Read the arguments, and in your journal indicate whether you would be for or against a program that aims to cut world hunger in half, giving reasons for your position. You may also advance other reasons for or against the proposal than those stated below.

FOR

Given the high level of wealth in the industrialized countries, we have a moral responsibility to share some of this wealth to reduce hunger in the world.

Because the world is so interconnected today, reducing hunger in the world ultimately serves U.S. interests. It creates more political stability, and by promoting economic growth helps create more markets for U.S. exports.

The industrialized countries have huge economies and tremendous resources. If they would all chip in, hunger could be cut in half at an affordable cost.

AGAINST

It is not the responsibility of countries like the U.S. to take care of the hungry in other parts of the world; that is the responsibility of their governments.

It is unrealistic to try to cut world hunger in half. It would cost more money than people in the industrialized countries would be willing to pay.

The causes of hunger in other countries are complex and poorly understood. It is naïve to think that outsiders can really make a serious difference by throwing money at the problem.

CONCLUSION

Having heard all these points of view, do you think, if the other industrialized countries are willing to do their share, the U.S. should or should not be willing to commit to a joint plan for cutting world hunger in half by the year 2015?

 

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Related Web Sites

America’s Second Harvest www.secondharvest.org

"The nation’s largest domestic hunger-relief organization. Through a network of over 200 food banks and food-rescue programs, America’s Second Harvest provides emergency food assistance to more than 23 million hungry Americans each year, eight million of whom are children."

 

Bread for the World www.bread.org

A network of Christian voices for ending hunger worldwide. The Web site contains facts about domestic and international hunger. Many Bread for the World tables are posted on the Lexis Nexis Statistical database.

 

The Hunger Site www.thehungersite.com

A Web site that donates free food around the world each time someone clicks on the "give free food" button.

 

Save the Children www.sponsor-child.com

Contains quotes and statistics as well as registration for sponsoring a child in another country.

 

Think Quest http://www.thinkquest.org/library/

Student-sponsored projects and sites. Contains "An End to World Hunger: Hope for the Future" site with a list of hunger facts.

 

United Nations Population Information Network (POPIN) http://www.un.org/popin/

Reports on world population issues from the United Nations.

 

World Food Programme (WFP) www.wfp.org

A United Nations organization whose goal is to eradicate global hunger and poverty. The agency provides the logistical support and the food for people in need throughout the world and works to put hunger at the center of the international agenda.

 

World Hunger Year (WHY) www.worldhungeryear.org

"WHY attacks the root causes of hunger and poverty by promoting effective and innovative community-based solutions that create self-reliance, economic justice and food security." Sponsors the National Hunger Clearinghouse, a centralized and searchable database of food, nutrition, anti-hunger and agricultural organizations.

 

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