Hitherto
I have recorded in detail the
events of my insignificant existence:
to the first ten years of my
life I have given almost as many
chapters. But this is not to
be a regular autobiography. I
am only bound to invoke Memory
where I know her responses will
possess some degree of interest;
therefore I now pass a space
of eight years almost in silence:
a few lines only are necessary
to keep up the
links of connection.
When the typhus fever had fulfilled
its mission of devastation at
Lowood, it gradually disappeared
from thence; but not till its
virulence and the number of its
victims had drawn public attention
on the school. Inquiry was made
into the origin of the scourge,
and by degrees various facts
came out which excited public
indignation in a high degree.
The unhealthy nature of the site;
the quantity and quality of the
children's food; the brackish,
fetid water used in its preparation;
the pupils' wretched clothing
and accommodations--all these
things were discovered, and the
discovery produced a result mortifying
to Mr. Brocklehurst, but beneficial
to the institution.
Several wealthy and benevolent
individuals in the county subscribed
largely for the erection of a
more convenient building in a
better situation; new regulations
were made; improvements in diet
and clothing introduced; the
funds of the school were intrusted
to the management of a committee.
Mr. Brocklehurst, who, from his
wealth and family connections,
could not be overlooked, still
retained the post of treasurer;
but he was aided in the discharge
of his duties by gentlemen of
rather more enlarged and sympathising
minds: his office of inspector,
too, was shared by those who
knew how to combine reason with
strictness, comfort with economy,
compassion with uprightness.
The school, thus improved, became
in time a truly useful and noble
institution. I remained an inmate
of its walls, after its regeneration,
for eight years: six as pupil,
and two as teacher; and in both
capacities I bear my testimony
to its value and importance.
During these eight years my
life was uniform: but not unhappy,
because it was not inactive.
I had the means of an excellent
education placed within my reach;
a fondness for some of my studies,
and a desire to excel in all,
together with a great delight
in pleasing my teachers, especially
such as I loved, urged me on:
I availed myself fully of the
advantages offered me. In time
I rose to be the first girl of
the first class; then I was invested
with the office of teacher; which
I discharged with zeal for two
years: but at the end of that
time I altered.
Miss Temple, through all changes,
had thus far continued superintendent
of the seminary: to her instruction
I owed the best part of my acquirements;
her friendship and society had
been my continual solace; she
had stood me in the stead of
mother, governess, and, latterly,
companion. At this period she
married, removed with her husband
(a clergyman, an excellent man,
almost worthy of such a wife)
to a distant county, and consequently
was lost to me.
From the day she left I was
no longer the same: with her
was gone every settled feeling,
every association that had made
Lowood in some degree a home
to me. I had imbibed from her
something of her nature and much
of her habits: more harmonious
thoughts: what seemed better
regulated feelings had become
the inmates of my mind. I had
given in allegiance to duty and
order; I was quiet; I believed
I was content: to the eyes of
others, usually even to my own,
I appeared a disciplined and
subdued character.
But destiny, in the shape of
the Rev. Mr. Nasmyth, came between
me and Miss Temple: I saw her
in her travelling dress step
into a post-chaise, shortly after
the marriage ceremony; I watched
the chaise mount the hill and
disappear beyond its brow; and
then retired to my own room,
and there spent in solitude the
greatest part of the half-holiday
granted in honour of the occasion.
I walked about the chamber
most of the time. I imagined
myself only to be regretting
my loss, and thinking how to
repair it; but when my reflections
were concluded, and I looked
up and found that the afternoon
was gone, and evening far advanced,
another discovery dawned on me,
namely, that in the interval
I had undergone a transforming
process; that my mind had put
off all it had borrowed of Miss
Temple--or rather that she had
taken with her the serene atmosphere
I had been breathing in her vicinity--and
that now I was left in my natural
element, and beginning to feel
the stirring of old emotions.
It did not seem as if a prop
were withdrawn, but rather as
if a motive were gone: it was
not the power to be tranquil
which had failed me, but the
reason for tranquillity was no
more. My world had for some years
been in Lowood: my experience
had been of its rules and systems;
now I remembered that the real
world was wide, and that a varied
field of hopes and fears, of
sensations and excitements, awaited
those who had courage to go forth
into its expanse, to seek real
knowledge of life amidst its
perils.
I
went to my
window, opened
it, and looked out. There were
the two wings of the building;
there was the garden; there were
the skirts of Lowood; there was
the hilly horizon. My eye passed
all other objects to rest on
those most remote, the blue peaks;
it was those I longed to surmount;
all within their boundary of
rock and heath seemed prison-ground,
exile limits. I traced the white
road winding round the base of
one mountain, and vanishing in
a gorge between two; how I longed
to follow it farther! I recalled
the time when I had travelled
that very road in a coach; I
remembered descending that hill
at twilight; an age seemed to
have elapsed since the day which
brought me first to Lowood, and
I had never quitted it since.
My vacations had all been spent
at school: Mrs. Reed had never
sent for me to Gateshead; neither
she nor any of her family had
ever been to visit me. I had
had no communication by letter
or message with the outer world:
school-rules, school-duties,
school-habits and notions, and
voices, and faces, and phrases,
and costumes, and preferences,
and antipathies--such was what
I knew of existence. And now
I felt that it was not enough;
I tired of the routine of eight
years in one afternoon. I desired
liberty; for liberty I gasped;
for liberty I uttered a prayer;
it seemed scattered on the wind
then faintly blowing. I abandoned
it and framed a humbler supplication;
for change, stimulus: that petition,
too, seemed swept off into vague
space: "Then," I cried, half
desperate, "grant me at least
a new servitude!"
Here a bell, ringing the hour
of supper, called me downstairs.
I was not free to resume the
interrupted chain of my reflections
till bedtime: even then a teacher
who occupied the same room with
me kept me from the subject to
which I longed to recur, by a
prolonged effusion of small talk.
How I wished sleep would silence
her. It seemed as if, could I
but go back to the idea which
had last entered my mind as I
stood at the window, some inventive
suggestion would rise for my
relief.
Miss Gryce snored at last;
she was a heavy Welshwoman, and
till now her habitual nasal strains
had never been regarded by me
in any other light than as a
nuisance; to-night I hailed the
first deep notes with satisfaction;
I was debarrassed of interruption;
my half- effaced thought instantly
revived.
"A new servitude! There is
something in that," I soliloquised
(mentally, be it understood;
I did not talk aloud), "I know
there is, because it does not
sound too sweet; it is not like
such words as Liberty, Excitement,
Enjoyment: delightful sounds
truly; but no more than sounds
for me; and so hollow and fleeting
that it is mere waste of time
to listen to them. But Servitude!
That must be matter of fact.
Any one may serve: I have served
here eight years; now all I want
is to serve elsewhere. Can I
not get so much of my own will?
Is not the thing feasible? Yes--yes--the
end is not so difficult; if I
had only a brain active enough
to ferret out the means of attaining
it."
I sat up in bed by way of arousing
this said brain: it was a chilly
night; I covered my shoulders
with a shawl, and then I proceeded
TO THINK again with all my might.
"What
do I want?
A new place,
in a new house, amongst new faces,
under new circumstances: I want
this because it is of no use
wanting anything better. How
do people do to get a new place?
They apply to friends, I suppose:
I have no friends. There are
many others who have no friends,
who must look about for themselves
and be their own helpers; and
what is their resource?"
I could not tell: nothing answered
me; I then ordered my brain to
find a response, and quickly.
It worked and worked faster:
I felt the pulses throb in my
head and temples; but for nearly
an hour it worked in chaos; and
no result came of its efforts.
Feverish with vain labour, I
got up and took a turn in the
room; undrew the curtain, noted
a star or two, shivered with
cold, and again crept to bed.
A
kind fairy,
in my absence,
had surely dropped the required
suggestion on my pillow; for
as I lay down, it came quietly
and naturally to my mind.--"Those
who want situations advertise;
you must advertise in the -shire
Herald."
"How?
I know nothing
about advertising."
Replies rose smooth and prompt
now:-
"You
must enclose
the advertisement
and the money to pay for it under
a cover directed to the editor
of the Herald; you must put it,
the first opportunity you have,
into the post at Lowton; answers
must be addressed to J.E., at
the post-office there; you can
go and inquire in about a week
after you send your letter, if
any are come, and act accordingly."
This scheme I went over twice,
thrice; it was then digested
in my mind; I had it in a clear
practical form: I felt satisfied,
and fell asleep.
With earliest day, I was up:
I had my advertisement written,
enclosed, and directed before
the bell rang to rouse the school;
it ran thus:-
"A young lady accustomed to
tuition" (had I not been a teacher
two years?) "is desirous of meeting
with a situation in a private
family where the children are
under fourteen (I thought that
as I was barely eighteen, it
would not do to undertake the
guidance of pupils nearer my
own age). She is qualified to
teach the usual branches of a
good English education, together
with French, Drawing, and Music" (in
those days, reader, this now
narrow catalogue of accomplishments,
would have been held tolerably
comprehensive). "Address, J.E.,
Post-office, Lowton, -shire."
This document remained locked
in my drawer all day: after tea,
I asked leave of the new superintendent
to go to Lowton, in order to
perform some small commissions
for myself and one or two of
my fellow-teachers; permission
was readily granted; I went.
It was a walk of two miles, and
the evening was wet, but the
days were still long; I visited
a shop or two, slipped the letter
into the post- office, and came
back through heavy rain, with
streaming garments, but with
a relieved heart.
The succeeding week seemed
long: it came to an end at last,
however, like all sublunary things,
and once more, towards the close
of a pleasant autumn day, I found
myself afoot on the road to Lowton.
A picturesque track it was, by
the way; lying along the side
of the beck and through the sweetest
curves of the dale: but that
day I thought more of the letters,
that might or might not be awaiting
me at the little burgh whither
I was bound, than of the charms
of lea and water.
My ostensible errand on this
occasion was to get measured
for a pair of shoes; so I discharged
that business first, and when
it was done, I stepped across
the clean and quiet little street
from the shoemaker's to the post-office:
it was kept by an old dame, who
wore horn spectacles on her nose,
and black mittens on her hands.
"Are there any letters for
J.E.?" I asked.
She peered at me over her spectacles,
and then she opened a drawer
and fumbled among its contents
for a long time, so long that
my hopes began to falter. At
last, having held a document
before her glasses for nearly
five minutes, she presented it
across the counter, accompanying
the act by another inquisitive
and mistrustful glance--it was
for J.E.
"Is there only one?" I
demanded.
"There are no more," said
she; and I
put it in my
pocket and
turned my face homeward: I could
not open it then; rules obliged
me to be back by eight, and it
was already half-past seven.
Various duties awaited me on
my arrival. I had to sit with
the girls during their hour of
study; then it was my turn to
read prayers; to see them to
bed: afterwards I supped with
the other teachers. Even when
we finally retired for the night,
the inevitable Miss Gryce was
still my companion: we had only
a short end of candle in our
candlestick, and I dreaded lest
she should talk till it was all
burnt out; fortunately, however,
the heavy supper she had eaten
produced a soporific effect:
she was already snoring before
I had finished undressing. There
still remained an inch of candle:
I now took out my letter; the
seal was an initial F.; I broke
it; the contents were brief.
"If
J.E., who advertised
in the -shire
Herald of last
Thursday,
possesses the acquirements mentioned,
and if she is in a position to
give satisfactory references
as to character and competency,
a situation can be offered her
where there is but one pupil,
a little girl, under ten years
of age; and where the salary
is thirty pounds per annum. J.E.
is requested to send references,
name, address, and all particulars
to the direction:-
"Mrs.
Fairfax, Thornfield,
near Millcote, -shire."
I
examined the
document long:
the writing was old-fashioned
and rather uncertain, like that
of in elderly lady. This circumstance
was satisfactory: a private fear
had haunted me, that in thus
acting for myself, and by my
own guidance, I ran the risk
of getting into some scrape;
and, above all things, I wished
the result of my endeavours to
be respectable, proper, en regle.
I now felt that an elderly lady
was no bad ingredient in the
business I had on hand. Mrs.
Fairfax! I saw her in a black
gown and widow's cap; frigid,
perhaps, but not uncivil: a model
of elderly English respectability.
Thornfield! that, doubtless,
was the name of her house: a
neat orderly spot, I was sure;
though I failed in my efforts
to conceive a correct plan of
the premises. Millcote, - shire;
I brushed up my recollections
of the map of England, yes, I
saw it; both the shire and the
town. -shire was seventy miles
nearer London than the remote
county where I now resided: that
was a recommendation to me. I
longed to go where there was
life and movement: Millcote was
a large manufacturing town on
the banks of the A-; a busy place
enough, doubtless: so much the
better; it would be a complete
change at least. Not that my
fancy was much captivated by
the idea of long chimneys and
clouds of smoke--"but," I argued, "Thornfield
will, probably, be a good way
from the town."
Here the socket of the candle
dropped, and the wick went out.
Next
day new steps
were to be
taken; my plans
could no longer
be confined to my own breast;
I must impart them in order to
achieve their success. Having
sought and obtained an audience
of the superintendent during
the noontide recreation, I told
her I had a prospect of getting
a new situation where the salary
would be double what I now received
(for at Lowood I only got 15
pounds per annum); and requested
she would break the matter for
me to Mr. Brocklehurst, or some
of the committee, and ascertain
whether they would permit me
to mention them as references.
She obligingly consented to act
as mediatrix in the matter. The
next day she laid the affair
before Mr. Brocklehurst, who
said that Mrs. Reed must be written
to, as she was my natural guardian.
A note was accordingly addressed
to that lady, who returned for
answer, that "I might do as I
pleased: she had long relinquished
all interference in my affairs." This
note went the round of the committee,
and at last, after what appeared
to me most tedious delay, formal
leave was given me to better
my condition if I could; and
an assurance added, that as I
had always conducted myself well,
both as teacher and pupil, at
Lowood, a testimonial of character
and capacity, signed by the inspectors
of that institution, should forthwith
be furnished me.
This testimonial I accordingly
received in about a month, forwarded
a copy of it to Mrs. Fairfax,
and got that lady's reply, stating
that she was satisfied, and fixing
that day fortnight as the period
for my assuming the post of governess
in her house.
I now busied myself in preparations:
the fortnight passed rapidly.
I had not a very large wardrobe,
though it was adequate to my
wants; and the last day sufficed
to pack my trunk,--the same I
had brought with me eight years
ago from Gateshead.
The box was corded, the card
nailed on. In half-an-hour the
carrier was to call for it to
take it to Lowton, whether I
myself was to repair at an early
hour the next morning to meet
the coach. I had brushed my black
stuff travelling-dress, prepared
my bonnet, gloves, and muff;
sought in all my drawers to see
that no article was left behind;
and now having nothing more to
do, I sat down and tried to rest.
I could not; though I had been
on foot all day, I could not
now repose an instant; I was
too much excited. A phase of
my life was closing to-night,
a new one opening to-morrow:
impossible to slumber in the
interval; I must watch feverishly
while the change was being accomplished.
"Miss," said a servant who
met me in the lobby, where I
was wandering like a troubled
spirit, "a person below wishes
to see you."
"The carrier, no doubt," I
thought, and ran downstairs without
inquiry. I was passing the back-parlour
or teachers' sitting-room, the
door of which was half open,
to go to the kitchen, when some
one ran out -
"It's her, I am sure!--I could
have told her anywhere!" cried
the individual who stopped my
progress and took my hand.
I looked: I saw a woman attired
like a well-dressed servant,
matronly, yet still young; very
good-looking, with black hair
and eyes, and lively complexion.
"Well, who is it?" she asked,
in a voice and with a smile I
half recognised; "you've not
quite forgotten me, I think,
Miss Jane?"
In
another second
I was embracing
and kissing her rapturously: "Bessie!
Bessie! Bessie!" that was all
I said; whereat she half laughed,
half cried, and we both went
into the parlour. By the fire
stood a little fellow of three
years old, in plaid frock and
trousers.
"That is my little boy," said
Bessie directly.
"Then
you are married,
Bessie?"
"Yes;
nearly five
years since
to Robert Leaven, the coachman;
and I've a little girl besides
Bobby there, that I've christened
Jane."
"And
you don't live
at Gateshead?"
"I
live at the
lodge: the
old porter
has left."
"Well, and how do they all
get on? Tell me everything about
them, Bessie: but sit down first;
and, Bobby, come and sit on my
knee, will you?" but Bobby preferred
sidling over to his mother.
"You're not grown so very tall,
Miss Jane, nor so very stout," continued
Mrs. Leaven. "I dare say they've
not kept you too well at school:
Miss Reed is the head and shoulders
taller than you are; and Miss
Georgiana would make two of you
in breadth."
"Georgiana
is handsome,
I suppose,
Bessie?"
"Very.
She went up
to London last
winter with
her mama, and
there everybody admired her,
and a young lord fell in love
with her: but his relations were
against the match; and--what
do you think?--he and Miss Georgiana
made it up to run away; but they
were found out and stopped. It
was Miss Reed that found them
out: I believe she was envious;
and now she and her sister lead
a cat and dog life together;
they are always quarrelling--"
"Well,
and what of
John Reed?"
"Oh,
he is not doing
so well as
his mama could
wish. He went
to college, and he got--plucked,
I think they call it: and then
his uncles wanted him to be a
barrister, and study the law:
but he is such a dissipated young
man, they will never make much
of him, I think."
"What
does he look
like?"
"He
is very tall:
some people
call him a fine-looking young
man; but he has such thick lips."
"And
Mrs. Reed?"
"Missis
looks stout
and well enough
in the face,
but I think
she's not quite easy in her mind:
Mr. John's conduct does not please
her- -he spends a deal of money."
"Did
she send you
here, Bessie?"
"No,
indeed: but
I have long
wanted to see you, and when I
heard that there had been a letter
from you, and that you were going
to another part of the country,
I thought I'd just set of, and
get a look at you before you
were quite out of my reach."
"I am afraid you are disappointed
in me, Bessie." I said this laughing:
I perceived that Bessie's glance,
though it expressed regard, did
in no shape denote admiration.
"No,
Miss Jane,
not exactly:
you are genteel enough; you look
like a lady, and it is as much
as ever I expected of you: you
were no beauty as a child."
I smiled at Bessie's frank
answer: I felt that it was correct,
but I confess I was not quite
indifferent to its import: at
eighteen most people wish to
please, and the conviction that
they have not an exterior likely
to second that desire brings
anything but gratification.
"I dare say you are clever,
though," continued Bessie, by
way of solace. "What can you
do? Can you play on the piano?"
"A
little."
There was one in the room;
Bessie went and opened it, and
then asked me to sit down and
give her a tune: I played a waltz
or two, and she was charmed.
"The Miss Reeds could not play
as well!" said she exultingly. "I
always said you would surpass
them in learning: and can you
draw?"
"That is one of my paintings
over the chimney-piece." It was
a landscape in water colours,
of which I had made a present
to the superintendent, in acknowledgment
of her obliging mediation with
the committee on my behalf, and
which she had framed and glazed.
"Well,
that is beautiful,
Miss Jane!
It is as fine
a picture
as any Miss Reed's drawing-master
could paint, let alone the young
ladies themselves, who could
not come near it: and have you
learnt French?"
"Yes,
Bessie, I can
both read it
and speak it."
"And
you can work
on muslin and
canvas?"
"I
can."
"Oh,
you are quite
a lady, Miss
Jane! I knew
you would be:
you will get on whether your
relations notice you or not.
There was something I wanted
to ask you. Have you ever heard
anything from your father's kinsfolk,
the Eyres?"
"Never
in my life."
"Well,
you know Missis
always said
they were poor
and quite
despicable: and they may be poor;
but I believe they are as much
gentry as the Reeds are; for
one day, nearly seven years ago,
a Mr. Eyre came to Gateshead
and wanted to see you; Missis
said you were it school fifty
miles off; he seemed so much
disappointed, for he could not
stay: he was going on a voyage
to a foreign country, and the
ship was to sail from London
in a day or two. He looked quite
a gentleman, and I believe he
was your father's brother."
"What
foreign country
was he going
to, Bessie?"
"An
island thousands
of miles off,
where they
make wine--the
butler did tell me--"
"Madeira?" I
suggested.
"Yes,
that is it--that
is the very
word."
"So
he went?"
"Yes;
he did not
stay many minutes
in the house:
Missis
was very high with him; she called
him afterwards a 'sneaking tradesman.'
My Robert believes he was a wine-merchant."
"Very likely," I returned; "or
perhaps clerk or agent to a wine-
merchant."
Bessie and I conversed about
old times an hour longer, and
then she was obliged to leave
me: I saw her again for a few
minutes the next morning at Lowton,
while I was waiting for the coach.
We parted finally at the door
of the Brocklehurst Arms there:
each went her separate way; she
set off for the brow of Lowood
Fell to meet the conveyance which
was to take her back to Gateshead,
I mounted the vehicle which was
to bear me to new duties and
a new life in the unknown environs
of Millcote.
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