The sight was a disgrace to civilization. The snow, which the bankrupt Government has no money to clear away, had turned to slush. One's well-shod feet were perishing. The road which approached the desolate5 banquet-hall, was an oozy6 quagmire7 of icy mud. Within the building at wooden tables sat an army of stunted8 pigmies, raggedly9 clad and famished11 to a greenish pallor. They were the kind of pigmies to whom Christ would have referred, had He been with me, as "These, my little ones." They ranged in age all the way from the merest toddlers to the beginnings of adolescence12. No one would have guessed the adolescent part of it, for there wasn't a child in the gathering13 who looked older than ten. They didn't talk. They didn't laugh. They were terribly intent, for each had a roll and a pannikin of cocoa over which it crouched14 with an animal eagerness. And the stench from the starveling bodies was nauseating15.
The people who attended to their needs were Austrians. There are less than forty American officials in the whole of Europe to superintend the workings of the Relief Administration. The food had been provided one-third by American philanthropy, the other two-thirds by Austrians—which is an answer to those thrifty16 economists17 who are so afraid of pauperising Europe. This is the fixed18 rule of the American Relief Administration's activities, that it contributes one-third of the expense and does the organising, while the country assisted provides the other two-thirds and the personnel of the workers. When the country is able to function for itself, as is the case with Czecho-Slovakia, the machinery19 remains20 but the Administration withdraws. Another useful fact to remember is that one American dollar, at the current rate of exchange, keeps one of these little skeletons alive for a month. And yet another fact is that the whole of each dollar donated is expended21 on food and nothing is deducted22 for organisation23.
As I stood in that dingy24 hall and watched the overwhelming tragedy of spoliated childhood, my memory went back three years. The last time I had witnessed a misery26 so heart-breaking had been at Evian, where the trains entered France from Switzerland, repatriating27 the little French captives who had existed for three years behind the German lines. It had seemed to me then that those corpselike, unsmiling victims of human hate had represented the foulest28 vehemence29 of the crime of war. Yet here today in Vienna, two years after our much prayed for peace, I have been confronted by the same crime against childhood, being enacted30 with a yet greater shamelessness, for the war is ended, four-fifths of the world has an excess of food and there is no longer any excuse of military necessity. Today our only possible excuse is hard-heartedness and besotted selfishness.
Here today, to all intents and purposes, are the same little slaves of famine and ill-usage that were to be seen passing through Evian three years ago, the only difference is that their nationality has changed. Those were French and these are Austrians. "Poetic31 justice! Retribution!" someone may say. To such a man I would reply that the war was not waged against children. The children of whatsoever32 nations we fought never ceased to be our friends.
And these children whom I saw today, most of them were not born when the war started. They had no voice in our animosities. They did not ask to he brought into such a world. Many of them since their first breath, have never known what it was to be warm and not to be hungry. To them joy is a word utterly33 meaningless. They have always been too weak to laugh or play. Two years after our madness has ended they are still paying the price of the adult world's folly34. We have returned home to our comfortable firesides, but their tender bodies still shudder35 in the trenches36 which an unwisdom, which was partly ours, dug for them.
I entered a shed where little feet were being measured for the Christmas gift of boots which had arrived from America. What feet! How deformed37 with cold, and swollen38 and blue! They lad never been anything else since their owners could remember. There was nothing childish about them, except that they were small. Some were wholly naked; some were wrapped in rags; some were thrust into the recovered derelicts of splendid adults like myself. My feet were like stones with trudging39 through the melting snow, but I could look forward to a time when mine would be warm. What about theirs, the feet of little children whose pain was never ended—small feet that should have learned to dance?
On a bench sat a tiny boy, wizened40 and jaded41 as an old man. He was being fitted. A little ragged10 girl who was no relation, but was acting42 mother to him, told me his age. He was nine, but he was not as big as seven. No, he wasn't being fed by the Americans—not yet. He wasn't famished enough; there were other children who were worse. There wasn't enough food to feed you unless you were very bad. Perhaps he would be bad enough soon after Christmas.
I didn't dare to tell her that after Christmas, unless the conscience of the happier world is aroused, there won't be any funds to feed her little friend, no matter how bad he becomes.
After he had been fitted, I watched her ease the broken apologies for boots back on to the swollen flesh. She was very tender. She knew how much it hurt, for her own feet were no better. She had auburn hair, which hung in ringlets, and kind gray eyes. She took his hand and helped him off the bench. Away they trudged43 through the bitter cold and slush, dreaming of Christmas when for once their feet will be protected. My eyes followed them. My eyes followed them so much that that afternoon I did a round of the homes from which these children come. I wanted to find out about the parents—whether this condition of affairs is their fault, due to uncurable shiftlessness. I procured44 my list from the Society of Friends, who are doing a fine work in house to house visitation. From the homes which I visited, I select two examples which vividly45 illustrate46 the child need not only of Vienna, but of the whole of Central Europe.
The first home belonged to a man named Klier. He had a wife and three children, the youngest of which was two and a half and the oldest fourteen. Before the war he had been a silversmith and comfortably settled. Today in Austria there is no work for silversmiths and will not be for many years to come. He had served in the army on the Italian front—he still wore his uniform—had been captured and had been a prisoner. During his absence, his wife had had to commence selling the furniture piece by piece to keep the home going. On his return he could not get employment. By the time I saw him every solitary47 possession which he had had, had gone except two single beds and a pile of rags for coverings. One of those beds he rented to a lodger48, the other his wife, self and children slept in by turns through the night, trying to keep themselves warm. Despite this abject49 poverty, the floor was speckless50 and had been recently scrubbed. A little gray-faced tot in a solitary garment—a crimson51 velvet52 frock donated by the Red Cross—stood stoically by, while her father talked to me. He had at last got a job on a paper, he said, which would bring him in 1600 crowns a month. 1600 crowns are a little over two dollars in American money, out of which he had to pay his rent and lighting53. How was it to be done? He shrugged54 his shoulders hopelessly and spread his hands abroad. And again I asked a question—did he hope that things would be better in the future? He made no reply, but grabbed the child's hand more protectingly and stared forlornly at the blank wall.
The second home belonged to a man named Lutowsky.
He had been a repairer of street-pavements; pavements are taking care of themselves at present. His household consisted of a grandmother, aged25 71, a wife in consumption, due to starvation, and five consumptive children. In painting the picture which I have to paint, I feel ashamed at having pried55 on such a depth of sorrow. The home consisted of two rooms. In the first the grandmother was washing clothes. She explained that she earned thirty crowns a day for it—less than five cents in American money; but that after a day's work she was always laid up for a week from exhaustion56. Before the war she had been in receipt of a pension of twenty-four crowns a month, which would be about five dollars. Since the fall in money values her pension had been raised to fifty crowns, which at present rates of exchange represented less than eight cents a month. How did she exist on it?
In the inner room I found the rest of the family—the son, his wife and the five children. The youngest child was over two years of age and was still at the breast—there was nothing else on which to feed it. The mother was scarcely clad above the waist. Her eyes were sunk deep in her head and burnt with the fever of famine. About her neck a horrid57 rag was knotted, for her throat was puffed58 with tubercular glands59. She spoke60 in a hoarse61 voice, panting with the effort. Her man stood stonily62 beside her and made no comment. They had five children, yes. They were nearly naked, as we could see. They were all consumptive and always starved. It hadn't been like this always. Probably they would die soon—she supposed that would be better. Had they any money? Yes, there was her man's unemployment payment, which amounted to a cent and a half a day, American money. The world didn't want them. She coughed. The children commenced to sob63, but the man still stared at us stolidly64. There was no furniture in the room, save again one bed with a few rags flung over. it. The last of a candle guttered65 in a socket66; when that went out, they would be utterly in the dark. By its light, as I turned to go, I noticed that yet another unwanted baby was expected. They had once been self-respecting and happy. And this home was typical of the several million homes in which the five million children of Europe are starving.
In the outer room, as I departed, the old Grannie was again busy at her washing, earning those coveted67 thirty crowns which would exhaust her. Over her head a motto was pinned against the wall—the only decoration remaining from a former affluence68. I asked my interpreter how it read and he translated, "May the Christmas-man bring you good luck from near and far."
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1 situated | |
adj.坐落在...的,处于某种境地的 | |
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2 certified | |
a.经证明合格的;具有证明文件的 | |
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3 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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4 extinction | |
n.熄灭,消亡,消灭,灭绝,绝种 | |
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5 desolate | |
adj.荒凉的,荒芜的;孤独的,凄凉的;v.使荒芜,使孤寂 | |
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6 oozy | |
adj.软泥的 | |
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7 quagmire | |
n.沼地 | |
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8 stunted | |
adj.矮小的;发育迟缓的 | |
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9 raggedly | |
破烂地,粗糙地 | |
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10 ragged | |
adj.衣衫褴褛的,粗糙的,刺耳的 | |
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11 famished | |
adj.饥饿的 | |
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12 adolescence | |
n.青春期,青少年 | |
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13 gathering | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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14 crouched | |
v.屈膝,蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15 nauseating | |
adj.令人恶心的,使人厌恶的v.使恶心,作呕( nauseate的现在分词 ) | |
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16 thrifty | |
adj.节俭的;兴旺的;健壮的 | |
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17 economists | |
n.经济学家,经济专家( economist的名词复数 ) | |
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18 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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19 machinery | |
n.(总称)机械,机器;机构 | |
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20 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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21 expended | |
v.花费( expend的过去式和过去分词 );使用(钱等)做某事;用光;耗尽 | |
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22 deducted | |
v.扣除,减去( deduct的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23 organisation | |
n.组织,安排,团体,有机休 | |
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24 dingy | |
adj.昏暗的,肮脏的 | |
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25 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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26 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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27 repatriating | |
v.把(某人)遣送回国,遣返( repatriate的现在分词 ) | |
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28 foulest | |
adj.恶劣的( foul的最高级 );邪恶的;难闻的;下流的 | |
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29 vehemence | |
n.热切;激烈;愤怒 | |
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30 enacted | |
制定(法律),通过(法案)( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31 poetic | |
adj.富有诗意的,有诗人气质的,善于抒情的 | |
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32 whatsoever | |
adv.(用于否定句中以加强语气)任何;pron.无论什么 | |
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33 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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34 folly | |
n.愚笨,愚蠢,蠢事,蠢行,傻话 | |
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35 shudder | |
v.战粟,震动,剧烈地摇晃;n.战粟,抖动 | |
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36 trenches | |
深沟,地沟( trench的名词复数 ); 战壕 | |
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37 deformed | |
adj.畸形的;变形的;丑的,破相了的 | |
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38 swollen | |
adj.肿大的,水涨的;v.使变大,肿胀 | |
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39 trudging | |
vt.& vi.跋涉,吃力地走(trudge的现在分词形式) | |
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40 wizened | |
adj.凋谢的;枯槁的 | |
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41 jaded | |
adj.精疲力竭的;厌倦的;(因过饱或过多而)腻烦的;迟钝的 | |
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42 acting | |
n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
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43 trudged | |
vt.& vi.跋涉,吃力地走(trudge的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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44 procured | |
v.(努力)取得, (设法)获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 );拉皮条 | |
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45 vividly | |
adv.清楚地,鲜明地,生动地 | |
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46 illustrate | |
v.举例说明,阐明;图解,加插图 | |
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47 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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48 lodger | |
n.寄宿人,房客 | |
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49 abject | |
adj.极可怜的,卑屈的 | |
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50 speckless | |
adj.无斑点的,无瑕疵的 | |
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51 crimson | |
n./adj.深(绯)红色(的);vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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52 velvet | |
n.丝绒,天鹅绒;adj.丝绒制的,柔软的 | |
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53 lighting | |
n.照明,光线的明暗,舞台灯光 | |
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54 shrugged | |
vt.耸肩(shrug的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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55 pried | |
v.打听,刺探(他人的私事)( pry的过去式和过去分词 );撬开 | |
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56 exhaustion | |
n.耗尽枯竭,疲惫,筋疲力尽,竭尽,详尽无遗的论述 | |
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57 horrid | |
adj.可怕的;令人惊恐的;恐怖的;极讨厌的 | |
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58 puffed | |
adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 );喷着汽(或烟)移动;吹嘘;吹捧 | |
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59 glands | |
n.腺( gland的名词复数 ) | |
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60 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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61 hoarse | |
adj.嘶哑的,沙哑的 | |
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62 stonily | |
石头地,冷酷地 | |
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63 sob | |
n.空间轨道的轰炸机;呜咽,哭泣 | |
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64 stolidly | |
adv.迟钝地,神经麻木地 | |
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65 guttered | |
vt.形成沟或槽于…(gutter的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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66 socket | |
n.窝,穴,孔,插座,插口 | |
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67 coveted | |
adj.令人垂涎的;垂涎的,梦寐以求的v.贪求,觊觎(covet的过去分词);垂涎;贪图 | |
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68 affluence | |
n.充裕,富足 | |
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