| 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 girls
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 tears, 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.
I can remember Miss Temple walking lightly and rapidly along
our drooping line, her plaid cloak, which the frosty wind fluttered,
gathered close about her, and encouraging us, by precept and example,
to keep up our spirits, and march forward, as she said, 'like
stalwart soldiers.' The other teachers, poor things, were generally
themselves too much dejected to attempt the task of cheering others.
How we longed for the light and heat of a blazing fire when we
got back! But, to the little ones at least, this was denied: each
hearth in the schoolroom was immediately surrounded by a double
row of great girls, and behind them the younger children crouched
in groups, wrapping their starved arms in their pinafores.
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 Miss Miller, whose
irrepressible yawns attested her weariness. A frequent interlude
of these performances was the enactment of the part of Eutychus
by some half-dozen of little girls, 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.
I had my own reasons for being dismayed at this apparition; too
well I remembered the perfidious hints given by Mrs. Reed about
my disposition, etc.; the promise pledged by Mr. Brocklehurst
to apprise Miss Temple and the teachers of my vicious nature.
All along I had been dreading the fulfilment of this promise,-
I had been looking out daily for the 'Coming Man,' whose information
respecting my past life and conversation was to brand me as a
bad child for ever: now there he was.
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 calico
chemises, and I sorted the needles to match. You may tell Miss
Smith that I forgot to make a memorandum of the darning needles,
but she shall have some papers sent in next week; and she 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 hose 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
girls have two clean tuckers 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 tuckers 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
girls 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 girls is, not to accustom them to habits of luxury and
indulgence, but to render them hardy, patient, self-denying. 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.
Meantime, Mr. Brocklehurst, standing on the hearth with his hands
behind his back, majestically surveyed the whole school. Suddenly
his eye gave a blink, as if it had met something that either dazzled
or shocked its pupil; turning, he said in more rapid accents than
he had hitherto used-
'Miss Temple, Miss Temple, what- what is that girl with curled
hair? Red hair, ma'am, curled- curled all over?' And extending
his cane he pointed to the awful object, his hand shaking as he
did so.
'It is Julia Severn,' replied Miss Temple, very quietly.
'Julia Severn, ma'am! And why has she, or any other, curled hair?
Why, in defiance of every precept and principle of this house,
does she conform to the world so openly- here in an evangelical,
charitable establishment- as to wear her hair one mass of curls?'
'Julia's hair curls naturally,' returned Miss Temple, still more
quietly.
'Naturally! Yes, but we are not to conform to nature; I wish
these girls to be the children of Grace: and why that abundance?
I have again and again intimated that I desire the hair to be
arranged closely, modestly, plainly. Miss Temple, that girl's
hair must be cut off entirely; I will send a barber tomorrow:
and I see others who have far too much of the excrescence- that
tall girl, tell her to turn round. Tell all the first form to
rise up and direct their faces to the wall.'
Miss Temple passed her handkerchief over her lips, as if to smooth
away the involuntary smile that curled them; she gave the order,
however, and when the first class could take in what was required
of them, they obeyed. Leaning a little back on my bench, I could
see the looks and grimaces with which they commented on this manoeuvre:
it was a pity Mr. Brocklehurst could not see them too; he would
perhaps have felt that, whatever he might do with the outside
of the cup and platter, the inside was further beyond his interference
than he imagined.
He scrutinised the reverse of these living medals some five minutes,
then pronounced sentence. These words fell like the knell of doom-
'All those top-knots must be cut off.'
Miss Temple seemed to remonstrate.
'Madam,' he pursued, 'I have a Master to serve whose kingdom
is not of this world: my mission is to mortify in these girls
the lusts of the flesh; to teach them to clothe themselves with
shame-facedness and sobriety, not with braided hair and costly
apparel; and each of the young persons before us has a string
of hair twisted in plaits which vanity itself might have woven;
these, I repeat, must be cut off; think of the time wasted, of-'
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 Miss
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 girl!' 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 her.' Then
aloud: how loud it seemed to me! 'Let the child who broke her
slate come forward!'
Of my own accord I could not have stirred; I was paralysed: but
the two great girls 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, Jane, 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 Reed, Brocklehurst, and Co.
bounded in my pulses at the conviction. I was no Helen Burns.
'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 girl?'
Of course they did; for I felt their eyes directed like burning-glasses
against my scorched skin.
'You see she is yet young; you observe she possesses the ordinary
form of childhood; God has graciously given her the shape that
He has given to all of us; no signal deformity points her out
as a marked character. Who would think that the Evil One had already
found a servant and agent in her? 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 girl, 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 her; you must shun her example; if necessary, avoid
her company, exclude her from your sports, and shut her out from
your converse. Teachers, you must watch her: keep your eyes on
her movements, weigh well her words, scrutinise her actions, punish
her body to save her soul: if, indeed, such salvation be possible,
for (my tongue falters while I tell it) this girl, 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
girl 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 her benefactress; from the pious and charitable
lady who adopted her in her orphan state, reared her as her own
daughter, and whose kindness, whose generosity the unhappy girl
repaid by an ingratitude so bad, so dreadful, that at last her
excellent patroness was obliged to separate her from her own young
ones, fearful lest her vicious example should contaminate their
purity: she has sent her 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 her.'
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 her stand half an hour longer on that stool, and let no
one speak to her during the remainder of the day.'
There was I, then, mounted aloft; I, who had said I could not
bear the shame of standing on my natural feet in the middle of
the room, was now exposed to general view on a pedestal of infamy.
What my sensations were, no language can describe; but just as
they all rose, stifling my breath and constricting my throat,
a girl came up and passed me: in passing, she lifted her 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. Helen Burns asked
some slight questions about her work of Miss Smith, was chidden
for the triviality of the inquiry, returned to her place, and
smiled at me as she 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 her marked lineaments, her thin face,
her sunken grey eye, like a reflection from the aspect of an angel.
Yet at that moment Helen Burns wore on her arm 'the untidy badge;'
scarcely an hour ago I had heard her condemned by Miss Scatcherd
to a dinner of bread and water on the morrow because she 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 Miss Scatcherd's can only see those minute defects,
and are blind to the full brightness of the orb.
|
