A Child's Tragedy

Irish Jesuit Province

A Child's TragedyAuthor(s): Alexandra BrandtSource: The Irish Monthly, Vol. 38, No. 446 (Aug., 1910), pp. 450-455Published by: Irish Jesuit ProvinceStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20502865 .

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r 450 J

A CHILD'S TRAGEDY

By ALEXANDRA BRA NDT

THE following particulars of a case, as sad and pathetic as it is unique, were furnished by a medical friend at my request, and are based upon practical experience.

Some weeks ago, a laconic note in one of our leading papers had struck me painfully and roused my sympathy. The item ran thus:

" Mysterious Death of a little boy. On the high-road between P and :R (in the Mountain District) a little boy, 8 or 9 years old, was found unconscious last night by a

wagoner, who placed him on his cart and brought him to the Hospital at R , together with a basket the child had clung to with both his hands, and which turned out to be filled with all

kinds of eatables. The boy died shortly after having come to

his senses, when he betrayed great anxiety as to where his basket was left. The doctors' verdict, that he had been literally starved, was confirmed by the dissection which proved that for days he

had not eaten a morsel of food. The child's identity has not yet been ascertained."

As I happened to be well acquainted with one of the doctors of the R Hospital, I addressed him at once in reference to the above paragraph, and he was kind enough to comply with

my request for information. This is how I got the account from one whose veracity cannot be questioned. I am going to put it down for my readers, without any comment, since the melan

choly facts speak for themselves.

I willingly supply you with the details of our recent sad case which created such a sensation far beyond our district, especially since the accidental discovery of the little boy's origin and home. My first idea was to send you several copies of our local papers which discussed the circumstances in a style far livelier and more interesting than mine is, or ever will be. I find,

however, that most of these papers either misrepresented facts, or invented new ones; in some others vital points were omitted, so that, since you desire to hear the plain truth about the matter,



A CHILD'S TRAGEDY 451

I must tell you the story of our poor foundling as I know it, and not as it pictured itself in the brain of some fanciful reporter.

I was the only doctor on duty that night when the poor little chap was brought in-unconscious still, as he had been found, half-frozen, because scantily dressed, and so emaciated looking that I needed not the after-proof of the dissection to know that the child was going to die of hunger. We put him to bed in the junior department, which happened to be vacant that night, and two nurses and myself spared no effort to bring him round, though I told myself it was of no use; the pulse was hardly to be felt, the general exhaustion far too great to be overcome. The hamper mentioned in the first report was indeed full of victuals; it contained scraps of meat, bread, over a dozen eggs, some cake, and a few nickel and copper coins. We surmised that it had been entmsted to the boy's care, but it remained a puzzle to all of us how it was possible for so tiny a fellow to resist the temptation of taking at least a few mouthfuls when

he was evidently famished ?

The head-nurse, bending over him, suddenly saw his lips twitch; she beckoned me to the bedside to watch the possible recovery of the little sufferer's consciousness. After a while he actually opened his eyes, staring wonder-stricken about him; then he began to fidget; his lips tried to form words, most of

which were lost on us, hard as we strove to make out some meaning. In the end we found that he was agitated on account of his basket. The nurse whispered a few soothing words into his ear, telling him not to fret: his basket had not been tampered with and was near at hand. He seemed a little pacified, though not quite at ease; a few more words scarcely audible, passed his lips; we merely caught, 'Bring it home . . . soon . . . possible

father!" This was the last utterance, then the poor fellow lay motionless and stiff; large beads of perspiration, gathered on his forehead, a spasm ran through the worn frame, and in less time than I am taking to write this down, the immortal soul had fled from its fragile mansion. The kind-hearted narse gently closed the poor young eyes, and a great pity welled up in her motherly heart, nor could I blame her for the salt drops that fell on the dead chld's waxen face-a tribute due to the hapless little creature, since there was no fond parent near him to lament his untimely death.

Many a conjecture was formed that -night, and all through the following days, as to where the child might have strayed from. The papers took up the case with their usual alacrity,



452 THE IRISH MONTHLY

but no clue was found, until the police sent some of their agents farther into the country to investigate the whole neighbourhood

of R. and P. A long way off the place where the wagoner had discovered the insensible little body, they lit on the first trace. The boy had been seen in several huts of a poor forsaken moun tain village, where he had begged for bread and received some, though no one saw him eat it. An old woman, who minded the goats on the hill-side, gave evidence that she had watched him put a large piece of bread into a big basket full of provisions and eagerly examine his store, so that she had been wondering what he was begging for; but she had not dared to accost him, " the

wee kid looked so scared-like." My professional duties left me little leisure to muse on the

strange incident ; however, I should have investigated the matter, had it not been for another quite unexpected case which diverted

my mind from the question that had been uppermost in it and gave it a fresh theme. I was not even able to attend the funeral of the little boy which took place at the joint expense of the doctors and nurses of our hospital, and a very solemn and touching ceremony it turned out, as they told me afterwards.

But I had been called to a distant place in the mountains that afternoon. A friend of mine had put the case so urgently before

me--of a whole family forsaken and dying in a solitary hut at the foot of K Hill-that I could not but obey the summons setting aside all other consideration. Indeed, so engrossed was I by the new scene of woe when I had -entered the miserable dwelling, which was the goal of my expedition, that the little corpse, laid out among sweet-scented flowers in our chapel, had completely vanished from my memory.

Formerly, I had often had an opportunity to visit the homes of the desolate and indigent in my capacity of dispensary doctor of our district; but never before had I seen such destitution such an utterly comfortless human habitation! On a straw

mattress in a corner there lay the skeleton-like frame of a man in the last stage of consumption. Round him there pressed six children, ragged, dirty, with the dreadful mark of hunger in

their haggard faces. They stared at me with their mouths wide open, the group

remincding one of a nest-full of famishing young birds. The

description of my friend, however (a good-natured fellow who, on a pedestrian tour, had chanced to enter that hut to enquire his way), had prepared me for what I found, and I had brought in

my trap whatever provisions I could think of. The little folk



A CHILD'S TRAGEDY 453

fell to-a brood of greedy young vultures-but the sick man gently declined the proffered refreshment, muttering something like, " He will come soon, surely; come home soon."

A cursory examination confirmed my misgivings that the poor man had not many days to live. A violent fit of coughing nearly snapped the worn spring of life, and I sat down on an old chest by his side to wait until my patient should have recovered sufficient strength so as to be able to communicate whatever he

might have to say. That there was some fixed thought tor turing his mind and causing life to linger in that wasted body, I clearly saw. I administered a sedative, and after a while he turned his face towards me and made an effort to speak.

" By and by, my man! Take your time; I am at leisure to stay as long as you may want me." My tone, more than my

words, was authoritative, and he obeyed and held his peace; I am none too gentle with my sick people, you know. I took his temperature and felt his pulse, and after an hour or so was gratified to see a little strength returning. Then I allowed him to talk to me of what troubled him more even than his own helpless condition and that of his poor uncared-for little ones hanging round the room and playing with an old she-goat, the only animal that was left to them. The eldest-a tiny girl of barely eight, with the face and expression of an old woman had a sleeping baby of about two on her lap and sat demurely beside the pallet, never taking her big eyes off me, as long as her father spoke.

" Something must have happened to him-to my poor boy, my Hansel," said he. "He never stayed away so long, as he well knows we have no other support than what God sends us through the hands of generous people. He left on Monday last, and this is . . . what day is it ?"

"Saturday." I came to his rescue. "Saturday, ah, yes! And he meant to be back by Wed

nesday evening. Doctor, you seem to be a good man-do try and find my poor son, my darling little Hansel."

The ghost of a suspicion flitted through my brain, and I

eagerly enquired after the age and appearance of his little boy. Alas! the ghost soon assumed a distinct form; there was no, longer any doubt that our poor lost waif was this wretched man's eldest child, who had left his father's hut with a large basket to get some food for his sick father and his starving brothers and sisters. Never could he-the invalid told me-be induced to

VOL. xxxviii.-No. 446. 31



454 THE IRISH MONTHLY

touch anything himself of what kind folk gave him, before the others at home had eaten their 1fil.

We doctors are considered a hardened set (I, for one, am not given to sentimentality); somehow or other, we are inured to scenes of suffering and misery in any shape or place; but on an occasion like this, you feel that, after all, you are a creature of flesh and blood with a heart that will beat most uncomfortably against your ribs . . . I had rather been killed on the spot than summon courage to break the fatal tidings to this poor sufferer whose hours were counted! Our Father in Heaven will forgive me if I prevaricated when I told him not to fret-he would soon hear from his Hansel, who was al right, as far as I knew.

How did I know ? He questioned me with trembling lips and yearning eyes.

I went on to say that, according to his description of his son, he must have been the little fellow I had seen lately, this very

morning even, in R *, where the child had found a very kind master, and was as well off as any loving parent could desire. They would, in all probability, soon be re-united . . .

" I see, I see! It was he then who sent you here "the poor man faltered. " Thank God! Thank God! "

Joy sometimes kills, but oftener it has power to re-kindle, be it only for a short time, the flickering spark of life ready to expire. It was so in the present case. The poor man thanked me over and over again for the good news which, he said, put new life into him and made him feel almost well. He told me of his once happy life and his reverses: that he had had good work and handsome wages in a coal mine and was well able to provide for his family, until his wife's death and his own failing health brought grief and want to his door. In the end he got so ill that he could not earn anything, and so poor that he did not know what to feed the seven hungry young mouths with. There was no human dwelling near his, so he consented with bleeding heart to let his eldest child go out begging to the distant hamlets and stray huts on the mountain side . . .

You may well imagine that the poor collier's sad story, coupled to that of his heroic little son, was soon in every mouth. The sick man was brought to our hospital, where he is at present

feeling comparatively well, but slowly passing away, while the six little ones have found comfortable homes, and are, as far as we can judge, amply provided for.

We were only afraid lest the dying man should be bent upon seeing his eldest boy without further delay; whether it is, how



TWO NEWSPAPER CUTTINGS 455

ever, that he guessed the truth, or that he was too weak to insist, he is waiting patiently. Now and then only, he meekly asks me, " Shall I soon be allowed to see my Hansel ? " And I reply, " Soon, very soon, please God."

TWO NEWSPAPER CUTTINGS

SCIENCE AND RELIGION AND EXCLUSIVE SALVATION

I.

FROM the Westminster Gazette of June IO, I9IO, I cut the follow ing paragraphs to the purpose of giving them the immortality of our pages:

In consequence of assertions made in certain quarters to the effect that " Religion and Science are diametrically opposed to each other, and that men of science are and must necessarily be irreligious and anti-Christian," Mr. A. H. Tabrum wrote to a number of scientists on the subject and gives their replies in a little book, Religious Belie/s o0 Scientists, just published by

Messrs. Hunter and Longhurst. Some of the letters were written as long as fourteen years ago, others much more recently. A few quotations may be of interest. Professor W. Boyd Dawkins, of Owens College, Manchester, wrote:

" You are, in my opinion, right in holding that there is no antagonism between Science and Religion, the one dealing with the world of matter and the other with the world of spirit. It is, of course, true that scientific research has shown the imper fection of the cosmogony of the Old Testament, but it has done nothing more. "

Professor Dawkins adds that he knows of no leader in science who is eitlher irreligious or un-Christian.

Principal Macalister, of Glasgow University, answers the question thus:

" In my opinion there is no conflict between Science and the moral and spiritual teachings of the Bible. I believe that my opinion is shared by a large number of those whose lives are devoted to scientific research work."



A Child's Tragedy

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