Morningside
Heights
Chapter
3
FIVE o'clock had hardly
struck on the morning of the 19th of January, when Rita brought a candle into my
closet and found me already up and nearly dressed. I had risen half an hour
before her entrance, and had washed my face, and put on my clothes by the light
of a half-moon just setting, whose rays streamed through the narrow window near
my bed. I was to leave Gateshead that day by a coach which passed the lodge
gates at six A.M. Rita was the only person yet risen; she had lit a fire in the
nursery, where she now proceeded to make my breakfast. Few children can eat when
excited with the thoughts of a journey; nor could I. Rita, having pressed me in
vain to take a few spoonfuls of the boiled milk and bread she had prepared for
me, wrapped up some biscuits in a paper and put them into my bag; then she
helped me on with my vest and coat, and wrapping herself in a shawl, she and I
left the nursery. As we passed Mrs. Byron's bedroom, she said, 'Will you go in
and bid Missis good-bye?'
“ No, she came to my bed last night when you were gone down to supper,
and said I need not disturb her in the morning, or my cousins either; and she
told me to remember that she had always been my best friend, and to speak of her
and be grateful to her accordingly.”
“ What did you say, Master?”
“ Nothing: I covered my face with the bed-clothes, and turned from her to
the wall.”
“ That was wrong, Master Ran,”
“ You are quite right.”
The moon was set, and it was
very dark; Rita carried a lantern, whose light glanced on wet steps and gravel
road sodden by a recent thaw. Raw and chill was the winter morning: my teeth
chattered as I hastened down the drive. There was a light in the porter's lodge:
when we reached it, we found the porter's wife just kindling her fire: my trunk,
which had been carried down the evening before, stood corded at the door. It
wanted but a few minutes of six, and shortly after that hour had struck, the
distant roll of wheels announced the coming coach; I went to the door and
watched its lamps approach rapidly through the gloom.
'Is he going by
herself?' asked the porter's wife.
'Yes.'
'And how far is
it?'
'Fifty miles.'
'What a long way! I
wonder Mrs. Byron is not afraid to trust him so far alone.'
The coach drew up;
there it was at the gates with its four horses and its top laden with
passengers: the guard and coachman loudly urged haste; my trunk was hoisted up;
I left Rita’s side to climb in.
'Be sure and take
good care of him,' cried she to the guard, as he lifted me into the inside.
'Ay, ay!' was the
answer: the door was slapped to, a voice exclaimed 'All right,' and on we drove.
Thus was I severed from Rita and Gateshead; thus whirled away to unknown, and,
as I then deemed, remote and mysterious regions.
I remember but
little of the journey; I only know that the day seemed to me of a preternatural
length, and that we appeared to travel over hundreds of miles of road. We passed
through several towns, and in one, a very large one, the coach stopped; the
horses were taken out, and the passengers alighted to dine. I was carried into
an inn, where the guard wanted me to have some dinner; but, as I had no
appetite, he left me in an immense room with a fireplace at each end, a
chandelier pendent from the ceiling, and a little red gallery high up against
the wall filled with musical instruments. Here I walked about for a long time,
feeling very strange, and mortally apprehensive of some one coming in and
kidnapping me; for I believed in kidnappers, their exploits having frequently
figured in Rita's fireside chronicles. At last the guard returned; once more I
was stowed away in the coach, my protector mounted his own seat, sounded his
hollow horn, and away we rattled over the 'stony street' of L___.
The afternoon came
on wet and somewhat misty: as it waned into dusk, I began to feel that we were
getting very far indeed from Gateshead: we ceased to pass through towns; the
country changed; great grey hills heaved up round the horizon: as twilight
deepened, we descended a valley, dark with wood, and long after night had
overclouded the prospect, I heard a wild wind rushing amongst trees.
Lulled by the
sound, I at last dropped asleep; I had not long slumbered when the sudden
cessation of motion awoke me; the coach-door was open, and a person like a
servant was standing at it: I saw her face and dress by the light of the lamps.
'Is there a boy
called Ran Fujimiya here?' he asked. I answered 'Yes', and was then lifted out;
my trunk was handed down, and the coach instantly drove away.
I was stiff with
long sitting, and bewildered with the noise and motion of the coach: gathering
my faculties, I looked about me. Rain, wind, and darkness filled the air;
nevertheless, I dimly discerned a wall before me and a door open in it; through
this door I passed with my new guide: he shut and locked it behind him. There
was now visible a house or houses- for the building spread far- with many
windows, and lights burning in some; we went up a broad pebbly path, splashing
wet, and were admitted at a door; then the servant led me through a passage into
a room with a fire, where he left me alone.
I stood and warmed
my numbed fingers over the blaze, then I looked round; there was no candle, but
the uncertain light from the hearth showed, by intervals, papered walls, carpet,
curtains, shining mahogany furniture: it was a parlour, not so spacious or
splendid as the drawing-room at Gateshead, but comfortable enough. I was
puzzling to make out the subject of a picture on the wall, when the door opened,
and an individual carrying a light entered; another followed close behind.
The first was a
tall lady with dark hair, dark eyes, and a pale and large forehead; her figure
was partly enveloped in a shawl, her countenance was grave, her bearing erect.
'The child is very
young to be sent alone,' said she, putting her candle down on the table. She
considered me attentively for a minute or two, then further added-
'He had better be
put to bed soon; he looks tired: are you tired?' she asked, placing her hand on
my shoulder.
'A little, ma’am.'
'And hungry too, no
doubt: let him have some supper before he goes to bed, Mr. Thomas. Is this the
first time you have left your parents to come to school, my boy?'
I explained to her
that I had no parents. She inquired how long they had been dead: then how old I
was, what was my name, whether I could read, write: then she touched my cheek
gently with her forefinger, and saying, 'She hoped I should be a good child,'
dismissed me along with Mr. Thomas.
The lady I had left
might be about twenty-nine; the one who went with me appeared some years
younger: the first impressed me by his voice, look, and air. Mr. Thomas was more
ordinary; ruddy in complexion, though of a careworn countenance; hurried in gait
and action, like one who had always a multiplicity of tasks on hand: he looked,
indeed, what I afterwards found he really was, an under-teacher. Led by him, I
passed from compartment to compartment, from passage to passage, of a large and
irregular building; till, emerging from the total and somewhat dreary silence
pervading that portion of the house we had traversed, we came upon the hum of
many voices, and presently entered a wide, long room, with great deal tables,
two at each end, on each of which burnt a pair of candles, and seated all round
on benches, a congregation of boys of every age, from nine or ten to twenty.
Seen by the dim light of the dips, their number to me appeared countless, though
not in reality exceeding eighty; they were uniformly dressed in brown breeches
and white shirts of quaint fashion.
It was the hour of study; they were engaged in conning over their
to-morrow's task, and the hum I had heard was the combined result of their
whispered repetitions.
Mr. Thomas signed
to me to sit on a bench near the door, then walking up to the top of the long
room he cried out-
'Monitors, collect
the lesson-books and put them away!'
Four tall boys
arose from different tables, and going round, gathered the books and removed
them. Mr. Thomas again gave the word of command-
'Monitors, fetch
the supper-trays!'
The tall boys went
out and returned presently, each bearing a tray, with portions of something, I
knew not what, arranged thereon, and a pitcher of water and mug in the middle of
each tray. The portions were handed round; those who liked took a draught of the
water, the mug being common to all. When it came to my turn, I drank, for I was
thirsty, but did not touch the food, excitement and fatigue rendering me
incapable of eating; I now saw, however, that it was a thin oaten cake shared
into fragments.
The meal over,
prayers were read by Mr. Thomas, and the classes filed off, two and two,
upstairs. Overpowered by this time with weariness, I scarcely noticed what sort
of a place the bedroom was, except that, like the schoolroom, I saw it was very
long. To-night I was to be Mr. Thomas’ bed-fellow; he helped me to undress: when
laid down I glanced at the long rows of beds, each of which was quickly filled
with two occupants; in ten minutes the single light was extinguished, and amidst
silence and complete darkness I fell asleep.
The night passed
rapidly: I was too tired even to dream; I only once awoke to hear the wind rave
in furious gusts, and the rain fall in torrents, and to be sensible that Mr.
Thomas had taken his place by my side. When I again unclosed my eyes, a loud
bell was ringing; the boys were up and dressing; day had not yet begun to dawn,
and a rushlight or two burned in the room. I too rose reluctantly; it was bitter
cold, and I dressed as well as I could for shivering, and washed when there was
a basin at liberty, which did not occur soon, as there was but one basin to six
boys, on the stands down the middle of the room. Again the bell rang; all formed
in file, two and two, and in that order descended the stairs and entered the
cold and dimly lit schoolroom: here prayers were read by Mr. Thomas; afterwards
he called out-
'Form classes!'
A great tumult
succeeded for some minutes, during which Mr. Thomas repeatedly exclaimed,
'Silence!' and 'Order!' When it subsided, I saw them all drawn up in four
semicircles, before four chairs, placed at the four tables; all held books in
their hands, and a great book, like a Bible, lay on each table, before the
vacant seat. A pause of some seconds succeeded, filled up by the low, vague hum
of numbers; Mr. Thomas walked from class to class, hushing this indefinite
sound.
A distant bell
tinkled: immediately three men entered the room, each walked to a table and took
his seat; Mr. Thomas assumed the fourth vacant chair, which was that nearest the
door, and around which the smallest of the children were assembled: to this
inferior class I was called, and placed at the bottom of it.
Business now began:
the day's Collect was repeated, then certain texts of Scripture were said, and
to these succeeded a protracted reading of chapters in the Bible, which lasted
an hour. By the time that exercise was terminated, day had fully dawned. The
indefatigable bell now sounded for the fourth time: the classes were marshalled
and marched into another room to breakfast: how glad I was to behold a prospect
of getting something to eat! I was now nearly sick from inanition, having taken
so little the day before.
The refectory was a
great, low-ceiled, gloomy room; on two long tables smoked basins of something
hot, which, however, to my dismay, sent forth an odour far from inviting. I saw
a universal manifestation of discontent when the fumes of the repast met the
nostrils of those destined to swallow it; from the van of the procession, the
tall boys of the first class, rose the whispered words-
'Disgusting! The
porridge is burnt again!'
'Silence!'
ejaculated a voice; not that of Mr. Thomas, but one of the upper teachers, a
little and dark personage, smartly dressed, but of somewhat morose aspect, who
installed himself at the top of one table, while a bigger man presided at the
other. I looked in vain for her I had first seen the night before; she was not
visible: Mr. Thomas occupied the foot of the table where I sat, and a strange,
foreign-looking, elderly man, the French teacher, as I afterwards found, took
the corresponding seat at the other board. A long grace was said and a hymn
sung; then a servant brought in some tea for the teachers, and the meal began.
Ravenous, and now
very faint, I devoured a spoonful or two of my portion without thinking of its
taste; but the first edge of hunger blunted, I perceived I had got in hand a
nauseous mess; burnt porridge is almost as bad as rotten potatoes; famine itself
soon sickens over it. The spoons were moved slowly: I saw each boy taste his
food and try to swallow it; but in most cases the effort was soon relinquished.
Breakfast was over, and none had breakfasted. Thanks being returned for what we
had not got, and a second hymn chanted, the refectory was evacuated for the
schoolroom. I was one of the last to go out, and in passing the tables, I saw
one teacher take a basin of the porridge and taste it; he looked at the others;
all their countenances expressed displeasure, and one of them, the bigger one,
whispered-
'Abominable stuff!
How shameful!'
A quarter of an
hour passed before lessons again began, during which the schoolroom was in a
glorious tumult; for that space of time it seemed to be permitted to talk loud
and more freely, and they used their privilege. The whole conversation ran on
the breakfast, which one and all abused roundly. Poor things! it was the sole
consolation they had. Mr. Thomas was now the only teacher in the room: a group
of boys standing about him spoke with serious and sullen gestures. I heard the
name of Mr. Brocklehurst pronounced by some lips; at which Mr. Thomas shook his
head disapprovingly; but he made no great effort to check the general wrath;
doubtless he shared in it.
A clock in the
schoolroom struck nine; Mr. Thomas left his circle, and standing in the middle
of the room, cried-
'Silence! To your
seats!'
Discipline
prevailed: in five minutes the confused throng was resolved into order, and
comparative silence quelled the Babel clamour of tongues. The upper teachers now
punctually resumed their posts: but still, all seemed to wait. Ranged on benches
down the sides of the room, the eighty boys sat motionless and erect; a quaint
assemblage they appeared, all with plain clothes in brown breeches and plain
white shirts. Above twenty of those
clad in this costume were full-grown boys, or rather young men; it suited them
ill, and gave an air of oddity even to the handsomest.
I was still looking
at them, and also at intervals examining the teachers- none of whom precisely
pleased me; for the stout one was a little coarse, the dark one not a little
fierce, the foreigner harsh and grotesque, and Mr. Thomas, looked purple,
weather-beaten, and over-worked- when, as my eye wandered from face to face, the
whole school rose simultaneously, as if moved by a common spring.
What was the
matter? I had heard no order given: I was puzzled. Ere I had gathered my wits,
the classes were again seated: but as all eyes were now turned to one point,
mine followed the general direction, and encountered the personage who had
received me last night. She stood at the bottom of the long room, on the hearth;
for there was a fire at each end; she surveyed the two rows of boys silently and
gravely. Mr. Thomas, approaching, seemed to ask her a question, and having
received her answer, went back to his place, and said aloud-
'Monitor of the
first class, fetch the globes!'
While the direction
was being executed, the lady consulted moved slowly up the room. Seen now, in
broad day-light, she looked tall, fair, and shapely; brown eyes with a benignant
light in their irids, and a fine pencilling of long lashes round, relieved the
whiteness of her large front; on each of her temples her hair, of a very dark
brown, was clustered in round curls, according to the fashion of those times,
when neither smooth bands nor long ringlets were in vogue; her dress, also in
the mode of the day, was of purple cloth, relieved by a sort of Spanish trimming
of black velvet; a gold watch (watches were not so common then as now) shone at
her girdle. Let the reader add, to complete the picture, refined features; a
complexion, if pale, clear; and a stately air and carriage, and he will have, at
least, as clearly as words can give it, a correct idea of the exterior of Miss
Temple- Maria Temple, as I afterwards saw the name written in a prayer-book
intrusted to me to carry to church.
The superintendent
of Lowood (for such was this lady) having taken her seat before a pair of globes
placed on one of the tables, summoned the first class round her, and commenced
giving a lesson on geography; the lower classes were called by the teachers:
repetitions in history, grammar, etc., went on for an hour; writing and
arithmetic succeeded, and philosophy lessons were given by Miss Temple to some
of the elder boys. The duration of each lesson was measured by the clock, which
at last struck twelve. The superintendent rose-
'I have a word to
address to the pupils,' said she.
The tumult of
cessation from lessons was already breaking forth, but it sank at her voice. She
went on-
'You had this
morning a breakfast which you could not eat; you must be hungry:- I have ordered
that a lunch of bread and cheese shall be served to all.'
The teachers looked
at her with a sort of surprise.
'It is to be done
on my responsibility,' she added, in an explanatory tone to them, and
immediately afterwards left the room.
The bread and
cheese was presently brought in and distributed, to the high delight and
refreshment of the whole school. The order was now given 'To the garden!' Each
put on a cloak of grey frieze, I was similarly equipped, and, following the
stream, I made my way into the open air.
The garden was a
wide enclosure, surrounded with walls so high as to exclude every glimpse of
prospect; a covered verandah ran down one side, and broad walks bordered a
middle space divided into scores of little beds: these beds were assigned as
gardens for the pupils to cultivate, and each bed had an owner. When full of
flowers they would doubtless look pretty; but now, at the latter end of January,
all was wintry blight and brown decay. I shuddered as I stood and looked round
me: it was an inclement day for outdoor exercise; not positively rainy, but
darkened by a drizzling yellow fog; all under foot was still soaking wet with
the floods of yesterday. The stronger among the boys ran about and engaged in
active games, but sundry pale and thin ones herded together for shelter and
warmth in the verandah; and amongst these, as the dense mist penetrated to their
shivering frames, I heard frequently the sound of a hollow cough.
As yet I had spoken
to no one, nor did anybody seem to take notice of me; I stood lonely enough: but
to that feeling of isolation I was accustomed; it did not oppress me much. I sat
against a pillar of the verandah, drew my grey mantle close about me, and,
trying to forget the cold which nipped me without, and the unsatisfied hunger
which gnawed me within, delivered myself up to the employment of watching and
thinking while reading a book. My reflections were too undefined and fragmentary
to merit record: I hardly yet knew where I was; Gateshead and my past life
seemed floated away to an immeasurable distance; the present was vague and
strange, and of the future I could form no conjecture. I looked round the
convent-like garden, and then up at the house- a large building, half of which
seemed grey and old, the other half quite new. The new part, containing the
schoolroom and dormitory, was lit by mullioned and latticed windows, which gave
it a church-like aspect; a stone tablet over the door bore this inscription-
'Lowood
Institution.- This portion was rebuilt A.D. ___, by Naomi Brocklehurst, of
Brocklehurst Hall, in this county.' 'Let your light so shine before men, that
they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.'- St.
Matt. v. 16.
I read these words
over and over again: I felt that an explanation belonged to them, and was unable
fully to penetrate their import. I was still pondering the signification of
'Institution', and endeavouring to make out a connection between the first words
and the verse of Scripture, when the sound of a cough close behind me made me
turn my head. I saw a boy looking at me with curious eyes.
'Is your book
interesting?' he asked
'I like it,' I
answered, after a pause of a second or two, during which he examined me.
'What is it?' I
asked annoyed as his continuous examination of me.
'You have such an
odd colour of hair. I have never
seen anything quite like it,' replied the boy, sitting beside me. He was a boy much younger than I with
sky blue eyes and golden locks. I
decided he must know more about this place than me so I ventured to
ask.
'Can you tell me
what the writing on that stone over the door means? What is Lowood Institution?'
'This house where
you are come to live.'
'And why do they
call it Institution? Is it in any way different from other schools?'
'It is partly a
charity-school: you and I, and all the rest of us, are charity-children. I
suppose you are an orphan: are not either your father or your mother dead?'
'Both died before I
can remember.'
'Well, all the boys
here have lost either one or both parents, and this is called an institution for
educating orphans.'
'Do we pay no
money? Do they keep us for nothing?'
'We pay, or our
friends pay, fifteen pounds a year for each.'
'Then why do they
call us charity-children?'
'Because fifteen
pounds is not enough for board and teaching, and the deficiency is supplied by
subscription.'
'Who subscribes?'
'Different
benevolent-minded ladies and gentlemen in this neighbourhood and in London.'
'Who was Naomi
Brocklehurst?'
'The lady who built
the new part of this house as that tablet records, and whose son overlooks and
directs everything here.'
'Why?'
'Because he is
treasurer and manager of the establishment.'
'Then this house
does not belong to that tall lady who wears a watch, and who said we were to
have some bread and cheese?'
'To Miss Temple?
Oh, no! I wish it did: she has to answer to Mr. Brocklehurst for all she does.
Mr. Brocklehurst buys all our food and all our clothes.'
'Does he live
here?'
'No- two miles off,
at a large hall.'
'Is he a good man?'
'He is a clergyman,
and is said to do a great deal of good.'
'Did you say that
tall lady was called Miss Temple?'
'Yes.'
'And what are the
other teachers called?'
'The one with red
cheeks is called Mr. Smith; he attends to the work, and cuts out- for we make
our own clothes, our shirts, our vests, our breeches and everything; the short
one with black hair is Mr. Scatcherd; he teaches history and grammar, and hears
the second class repetitions; and the one who wears a hat, and has a
pocket-handkerchief tied to his side, is Mr. Pierrot: he comes from Lisle, in
France, and teaches French.'
'Do you like the
teachers?'
'Well enough.'
'Do you like the
short black one, and the Mr-? -I cannot pronounce his name as you do.'
'Mr Scatcherd is
quick to anger- you must take care not to offend him; Mr. Pierrot is not a bad
sort of person.'
'Have you been long
here?'
'Two years.'
'Are you an
orphan?'
'My mother is
dead.'
'Are you happy
here?'
'You ask rather too
many questions. I have given you answers enough for the present: I rather
thought you shy.’ A small smile spread across the boy’s face, reluctantly I
smiled back. He was about to ask
something else when at that moment the summons sounded for dinner; all
re-entered the house. The odour which now filled the refectory was scarcely more
appetising than that which had regaled our nostrils at breakfast: the dinner was
served in two huge tin-plated vessels, whence rose a strong steam redolent of
rancid fat. I found the mess to consist of indifferent potatoes and strange
shreds of rusty meat, mixed and cooked together. Of this preparation a tolerably
abundant plateful was apportioned to each pupil. I ate what I could, and
wondered within myself whether every day's fare would be like this.
After dinner, we
immediately adjourned to the schoolroom: lessons recommenced, and were continued
till five o'clock.
The only marked
event of the afternoon was, that I saw the boy with whom I had conversed in the
verandah dismissed in disgrace by Mr Scatcherd from a history class, and sent to
stand in the middle of the large schoolroom. I expected he would show signs of
great distress and shame; but to my surprise he neither wept nor blushed:
composed, though grave, he stood, the central mark of all eyes. 'How can he bear
it so quietly- so firmly?' I asked of myself. I have heard of day-dreams- is he
in a day-dream now? His eyes are fixed on the floor, but I am sure they do not
see it- his sight seems turned in, gone down into his heart: he is looking at
what he can remember, I believe; not at what is really present. I wonder what
sort of a boy he is- whether good or naughty.'
Soon after five
P.M. we had another meal, consisting of a small mug of coffee, and half a slice
of brown bread. Half an hour's recreation succeeded, then study; then the glass
of water and the piece of oat-cake, prayers, and bed. Such was my first day at
Lowood.
MY first quarter at Lowood
seemed an age; and not the golden age either; it comprised an irksome struggle
with difficulties in habituating myself to new rules and unwonted tasks. The
fear of failure in these points harassed me worse than the physical hardships of
my lot; though these were no trifles.
During January,
February, and part of March, the deep snows, and, after their melting, the
almost impassable roads, prevented our stirring beyond the garden walls, except
to go to church; but within these limits we had to pass an hour every day in the
open air. Our clothing was insufficient to protect us from the severe cold: we
had no boots, the snow got into our shoes and melted there: our ungloved hands
became numbed and covered with chilblains, as were our feet: I remember well the
distracting irritation I endured from this cause every evening, when my feet
inflamed; and the torture of thrusting the swelled, raw, and stiff toes into my
shoes in the morning. Then the scanty supply of food was distressing: with the
keen appetites of growing children, we had scarcely sufficient to keep alive a
delicate invalid. From this deficiency of nourishment resulted an abuse, which
pressed hardly on the younger pupils: whenever the famished great boys had an
opportunity, they would coax or menace the little ones out of their portion.
Many a time I have shared between two claimants the precious morsel of brown
bread distributed at teatime; and after relinquishing to a third half the
contents of my mug of coffee, I have swallowed the remainder with an
accompaniment of secret anger, forced from me by the exigency of hunger.
Sundays were dreary
days in that wintry season. We had to walk two miles to Brocklebridge Church,
where our patron officiated. We set out cold, we arrived at church colder:
during the morning service we became almost paralysed. It was too far to return
to dinner, and an allowance of cold meat and bread, in the same penurious
proportion observed in our ordinary meals, was served round between the
services. At the close of the afternoon service we returned by an exposed and
hilly road, where the bitter winter wind, blowing over a range of snowy summits
to the north, almost flayed the skin from our faces.
How we longed for
the light and heat of a blazing fire when we got back! A little solace came at
tea-time, in the shape of a double ration of bread- a whole, instead of a half,
slice- with the delicious addition of a thin scrape of butter: it was the
hebdomadal treat to which we all looked forward from Sabbath to Sabbath. I
generally contrived to reserve a moiety of this bounteous repast for myself; but
the remainder I was invariably obliged to part with.
The Sunday evening
was spent in repeating, by heart, the Church Catechism, and the fifth, sixth,
and seventh chapters of St. Matthew; and in listening to a long sermon, read by
Mr. Thomas, whose irrepressible yawns attested his weariness. A frequent
interlude of these performances was the enactment of the part of Eutychus by
some half-dozen of little boys, who, overpowered with sleep, would fall down, if
not out of the third loft, yet off the fourth form, and be taken up half dead.
The remedy was, to thrust them forward into the centre of the schoolroom, and
oblige them to stand there till the sermon was finished. Sometimes their feet
failed them, and they sank together in a heap; they were then propped up with
the monitors' high stools.
I have not yet
alluded to the visits of Mr. Brocklehurst; and indeed that gentleman was from
home during the greater part of the first month after my arrival; perhaps
prolonging his stay with his friend the archdeacon: his absence was a relief to
me. I need not say that I had my own reasons for dreading his coming: but come
he did at last.
One afternoon (I
had then been three weeks at Lowood), as I was sitting with a slate in my hand,
puzzling over a sum in long division, my eyes, raised in abstraction to the
window, caught sight of a figure just passing: I recognised almost instinctively
that gaunt outline; and when, two minutes after, all the school, teachers
included, rose en masse, it was not necessary for me to look up in order to
ascertain whose entrance they thus greeted. A long stride measured the
schoolroom, and presently beside Miss Temple, who herself had risen, stood the
same black column which had frowned on me so ominously from the hearthrug of
Gateshead. I now glanced sideways at this piece of architecture. Yes, I was
right: it was Mr. Brocklehurst, buttoned up in a surtout, and looking longer,
narrower, and more rigid than ever.
He stood at Miss
Temple's side; he was speaking low in her ear: I did not doubt he was making
disclosures of my villainy; and I watched her eye with painful anxiety,
expecting every moment to see its dark orb turn on me a glance of repugnance and
contempt. I listened too; and as I happened to be seated quite at the top of the
room, I caught most of what he said: its import relieved me from immediate
apprehension.
'I suppose, Miss
Temple, the thread I bought at Lowton will do; it struck me that it would be
just of the quality for the shirts and I sorted the needles to match. You may
tell Mr. Smith that I forgot to make a memorandum of the darning needles, but he
shall have some papers sent in next week; and he is not, on any account, to give
out more than one at a time to each pupil: if they have more, they are apt to be
careless and lose them. And, O ma'am! I wish the woollen stockings were better
looked to!- when I was here last, I went into the kitchen-garden and examined
the clothes drying on the line; there was a quantity of black stockings in a
very bad state of repair: from the size of the holes in them I was sure they had
not been well mended from time to time.'
He paused.
'Your directions
shall be attended to, sir,' said Miss Temple.
'And, ma'am,' he
continued, 'the laundress tells me some of the boys have two clean breeches in
the week: it is too much; the rules limit them to one.'
'I think I can
explain that circumstance, sir. Agnes and Catherine Johnstone were invited to
take tea with some friends at Lowton last Thursday, and I gave them leave to put
on clean breeches for the occasion.'
Mr. Brocklehurst
nodded.
'Well, for once it
may pass; but please not to let the circumstance occur too often. And there is
another thing which surprised me; I find, in settling accounts with the
housekeeper, that a lunch, consisting of bread and cheese, has twice been served
out to the boys during the past fortnight. How is this? I looked over the
regulations, and I find no such meal as lunch mentioned. Who introduced this
innovation? and by what authority?'
'I must be
responsible for the circumstance, sir,' replied Miss Temple: 'the breakfast was
so ill prepared that the pupils could not possibly eat it; and I dared not allow
them to remain fasting till dinner-time.'
'Madam, allow me an
instant. You are aware that my plan in bringing up these boys is, not to
accustom them to habits of luxury and indulgence, but to render them hardy,
patient, strong. Should any little accidental disappointment of the appetite
occur, such as the spoiling of a meal, the under or the over dressing of a dish,
the incident ought not to be neutralised by replacing with something more
delicate the comfort lost, thus pampering the body and obviating the aim of this
institution; it ought to be improved to the spiritual edification of the pupils,
by encouraging them to evince fortitude under the temporary privation. A brief
address on those occasions would not be mistimed, wherein a judicious instructor
would take the opportunity of referring to the sufferings of the primitive
Christians; to the torments of martyrs; to the exhortations of our blessed Lord
Himself, calling upon His disciples to take up their cross and follow Him; to
His warnings that man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that
proceedeth out of the mouth of God; to His divine consolations, "If ye suffer
hunger or thirst for My sake, happy are ye." Oh, madam, when you put bread and
cheese, instead of burnt porridge, into these children's mouths, you may indeed
feed their vile bodies, but you little think how you starve their immortal
souls!'
Mr. Brocklehurst
again paused- perhaps overcome by his feelings. Miss Temple had looked down when
he first began to speak to her; but she now gazed straight before her, and her
face, naturally pale as marble, appeared to be assuming also the coldness and
fixity of that material; especially her mouth, closed as if it would have
required a sculptor's chisel to open it, and her brow settled gradually into
petrified severity.
'Madam,' he
pursued, 'I have a Master to serve whose kingdom is not of this world: my
mission is to mortify in these boys the lusts of the flesh; to teach them to
clothe themselves with shame-facedness and sobriety, not with costly
apparel.’
Mr. Brocklehurst
was here interrupted: three other visitors, ladies, now entered the room. They
ought to have come a little sooner to have heard his lecture on dress, for they
were splendidly attired in velvet, silk, and furs. The two younger of the trio
(fine girls of sixteen and seventeen) had grey beaver hats, then in fashion,
shaded with ostrich plumes, and from under the brim of this graceful head-dress
fell a profusion of light tresses, elaborately curled; the elder lady was
enveloped in a costly velvet shawl, trimmed with ermine, and she wore a false
front of French curls.
These ladies were
deferentially received by Miss Temple, as Mrs. and the Misses Brocklehurst, and
conducted to seats of honour at the top of the room. It seems they had come in
the carriage with their reverend relative, and had been conducting a rummaging
scrutiny of the room upstairs, while he transacted business with the
housekeeper, questioned the laundress, and lectured the superintendent. They now
proceeded to address divers remarks and reproofs to Mr. Smith, who was charged
with the care of the linen and the inspection of the dormitories: but I had no
time to listen to what they said; other matters called off and enchained my
attention.
Hitherto, while
gathering up the discourse of Mr. Brocklehurst and Miss Temple, I had not, at
the same time, neglected precautions to secure my personal safety; which I
thought would be effected, if I could only elude observation. To this end, I had
sat well back on the form, and while seeming to be busy with my sum, had held my
slate in such a manner as to conceal my face: I might have escaped notice, had
not my treacherous slate somehow happened to slip from my hand, and falling with
an obtrusive crash, directly drawn every eye upon me; I knew it was all over
now, and, as I stooped to pick up the two fragments of slate, I rallied my
forces for the worst. It came.
'A careless boy!'
said Mr. Brocklehurst, and immediately after- 'It is the new pupil, I perceive.'
And before I could draw breath, 'I must not forget I have a word to say
respecting him.' Then aloud: how loud it seemed to me! 'Let the child who broke
his slate come forward!'
Of my own accord I
could not have stirred; I was paralysed: but the two great boys who sat on each
side of me, set me on my legs and pushed me towards the dread judge, and then
Miss Temple gently assisted me to his very feet, and I caught her whispered
counsel-
'Don't be afraid,
Ran, I saw it was an accident; you shall not be punished.'
The kind whisper
went to my heart like a dagger.
'Another minute,
and she will despise me for a hypocrite,' thought I; and an impulse of fury
against Byron, Brocklehurst, and Co. bounded in my pulses at the conviction. I
stared impassively at his face waiting for the axe to
fall.
'Fetch that stool,'
said Mr. Brocklehurst, pointing to a very high one from which a monitor had just
risen: it was brought.
'Place the child
upon it.'
And I was placed
there, by whom I don't know: I was in no condition to note particulars; I was
only aware that they had hoisted me up to the height of Mr. Brocklehurst's nose,
that he was within a yard of me, and that a spread of shot orange and purple
silk pelisses and a cloud of silvery plumage extended and waved below me.
Mr. Brocklehurst
hemmed.
'Ladies,' said he,
turning to his family, 'Miss Temple, teachers, and children, you all see this
boy?'
Of course they did;
for I felt their eyes directed like burning-glasses against my scorched skin.
'You see he is yet
young; you observe he possesses the ordinary form of childhood; God has
graciously given him the shape that He has given to all of us; no signal
deformity points him out as a marked character. Who would think that the Evil
One had already found a servant and agent in him? Yet such, I grieve to say, is
the case.'
A pause- in which I
began to steady the palsy of my nerves, and to feel that the Rubicon was passed;
and that the trial, no longer to be shirked, must be firmly sustained.
'My dear children,'
pursued the black marble clergyman, with pathos, 'this is a sad, a melancholy
occasion; for it becomes my duty to warn you, that this boy, who might be one of
God's own lambs, is a little castaway: not a member of the true flock, but
evidently an interloper and an alien. You must be on your guard against him; you
must shun his example; if necessary, avoid his company, exclude him from your
sports, and shut him out from your converse. Teachers, you must watch him: keep
your eyes on his movements, weigh well his words, scrutinise his actions, punish
his body to save his soul: if, indeed, such salvation be possible, for (my
tongue falters while I tell it) this boy, this child, the native of a Christian
land, worse than many a little heathen who says its prayers to Brahma and kneels
before Juggernaut- this boy is- a liar!'
Now came a pause of
ten minutes, during which I, by this time in perfect possession of my wits,
observed all the female Brocklehursts produce their pocket-handkerchiefs and
apply them to their optics, while the elderly lady swayed herself to and fro,
and the two younger ones whispered, 'How shocking!'
Mr. Brocklehurst
resumed.
'This I learned
from his benefactress; from the pious and charitable lady who adopted him in his
orphan state, reared him as her own son, and whose kindness, whose generosity
the unhappy boy repaid by an ingratitude so bad, so dreadful, that at last his
excellent patroness was obliged to separate him from her own young ones, fearful
lest his vicious example should contaminate their purity: she has sent him here
to be healed, even as the Jews of old sent their diseased to the troubled pool
of Bethesda; and, teachers, superintendent, I beg of you not to allow the waters
to stagnate round him.'
With this sublime
conclusion, Mr. Brocklehurst adjusted the top button of his surtout, muttered
something to his family, who rose, bowed to Miss Temple, and then all the great
people sailed in state from the room. Turning at the door, my judge said-
'Let him stand half
an hour longer on that stool, and let no one speak to him during the remainder
of the day.'
What my sensations
were, no language can describe; but just as they all rose, stifling my breath
and constricting my throat, a boy came up and passed me: in passing, he lifted
his eyes. What a strange light inspired them! What an extraordinary sensation
that ray sent through me! How the new feeling bore me up! It was as if a martyr,
a hero, had passed a slave or victim, and imparted strength in the transit. I
mastered the rising hysteria, lifted up my head, and took a firm stand on the
stool. Omi asked some slight questions about his work of Mr. Smith, was chidden
for the triviality of the inquiry, returned to his place, and smiled at me as he
again went by. What a smile! I remember it now, and I know that it was the
effluence of fine intellect, of true courage; it lit up his marked lineaments,
his thin face, his sunken blue eye, like a reflection from the aspect of an
angel. Yet at that moment Omi wore on his arm 'the untidy badge;' scarcely an
hour ago I had heard him condemned by Mr. Scatcherd to a dinner of bread and
water on the morrow because he had blotted an exercise in copying it out. Such
is the imperfect nature of man! such spots are there on the disc of the clearest
planet; and eyes like Mr. Scatcherd's can only see those minute defects, and are
blind to the full brightness of the orb.
Retour
Chapitre 4