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
tea-time; 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, &c.; 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 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 to-morrow: 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
enchanted 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 sit
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 question
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.
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