CHAPTER III.

A FEW MORE LESSONS

I rose next morning with a feeling of hopeful exhilaration, in spite of

the disappointments already experienced; but I found the dressing of

Mary Ann was no light matter, as her abundant hair was to be smeared

with pomade, plaited in three long tails, and tied with bows of ribbon:

a task my unaccustomed fingers found great difficulty in performing.

She told me her nurse could do it in half the time, and, by keeping up

a constant fidget of impatience, contrived to render me still longer.

When all was done, we went into the schoolroom, where I met my other

pupil, and chatted with the two till it was time to go down to

breakfast. That meal being concluded, and a few civil words having been

exchanged with Mrs. Bloomfield, we repaired to the schoolroom again,

and commenced the business of the day. I found my pupils very backward,

indeed; but Tom, though averse to every species of mental exertion, was

not without abilities. Mary Ann could scarcely read a word, and was so

careless and inattentive that I could hardly get on with her at all.

However, by dint of great labour and patience, I managed to get

something done in the course of the morning, and then accompanied my

young charge out into the garden and adjacent grounds, for a little

recreation before dinner. There we got along tolerably together, except

that I found they had no notion of going with me: I must go with them,

wherever they chose to lead me. I must run, walk, or stand, exactly as

it suited their fancy. This, I thought, was reversing the order of

things; and I found it doubly disagreeable, as on this as well as

subsequent occasions, they seemed to prefer the dirtiest places and the

most dismal occupations. But there was no remedy; either I must follow

them, or keep entirely apart from them, and thus appear neglectful of

my charge. To-day, they manifested a particular attachment to a well at

the bottom of the lawn, where they persisted in dabbling with sticks

and pebbles for above half an hour. I was in constant fear that their

mother would see them from the window, and blame me for allowing them

thus to draggle their clothes and wet their feet and hands, instead of

taking exercise; but no arguments, commands, or entreaties could draw

them away. If _she_ did not see them, some one else did—a gentleman on

horseback had entered the gate and was proceeding up the road; at the

distance of a few paces from us he paused, and calling to the children

in a waspish penetrating tone, bade them “keep out of that water.”

“Miss Grey,” said he, “(I suppose it _is_ Miss Grey), I am surprised

that you should allow them to dirty their clothes in that manner! Don’t

you see how Miss Bloomfield has soiled her frock? and that Master

Bloomfield’s socks are quite wet? and both of them without gloves?

Dear, dear! Let me _request_ that in future you will keep them _decent_

at least!” so saying, he turned away, and continued his ride up to the

house. This was Mr. Bloomfield. I was surprised that he should nominate

his children Master and Miss Bloomfield; and still more so, that he

should speak so uncivilly to me, their governess, and a perfect

stranger to himself. Presently the bell rang to summon us in. I dined

with the children at one, while he and his lady took their luncheon at

the same table. His conduct there did not greatly raise him in my

estimation. He was a man of ordinary stature—rather below than

above—and rather thin than stout, apparently between thirty and forty

years of age: he had a large mouth, pale, dingy complexion, milky blue

eyes, and hair the colour of a hempen cord. There was a roast leg of

mutton before him: he helped Mrs. Bloomfield, the children, and me,

desiring me to cut up the children’s meat; then, after twisting about

the mutton in various directions, and eyeing it from different points,

he pronounced it not fit to be eaten, and called for the cold beef.

“What is the matter with the mutton, my dear?” asked his mate.

“It is quite overdone. Don’t you taste, Mrs. Bloomfield, that all the

goodness is roasted out of it? And can’t you see that all that nice,

red gravy is completely dried away?”

“Well, I think the _beef_ will suit you.”

The beef was set before him, and he began to carve, but with the most

rueful expressions of discontent.

“What is the matter with the _beef_, Mr. Bloomfield? I’m sure I thought

it was very nice.”

“And so it _was_ very nice. A nicer joint could not be; but it is

_quite_ spoiled,” replied he, dolefully.

“How so?”

“How so! Why, don’t you see how it is cut? Dear—dear! it is quite

shocking!”

“They must have cut it wrong in the kitchen, then, for I’m sure I

carved it quite properly here, yesterday.”

“No _doubt_ they cut it wrong in the kitchen—the savages! Dear—dear!

Did ever any one see such a fine piece of beef so completely ruined?

But remember that, in future, when a decent dish leaves this table,

they shall not _touch_ it in the kitchen. Remember _that_, Mrs.

Bloomfield!”

Notwithstanding the ruinous state of the beef, the gentleman managed to

cut himself some delicate slices, part of which he ate in silence. When

he next spoke, it was, in a less querulous tone, to ask what there was

for dinner.

“Turkey and grouse,” was the concise reply.

“And what besides?”

“Fish.”

“What kind of fish?”

“I don’t know.”

“_You don’t know_?” cried he, looking solemnly up from his plate, and

suspending his knife and fork in astonishment.

“No. I told the cook to get some fish—I did not particularize what.”

“Well, that beats everything! A lady professes to keep house, and

doesn’t even know what fish is for dinner! professes to order fish, and

doesn’t specify what!”

“Perhaps, Mr. Bloomfield, you will order dinner yourself in future.”

Nothing more was said; and I was very glad to get out of the room with

my pupils; for I never felt so ashamed and uncomfortable in my life for

anything that was not my own fault.

In the afternoon we applied to lessons again: then went out again; then

had tea in the schoolroom; then I dressed Mary Ann for dessert; and

when she and her brother had gone down to the dining-room, I took the

opportunity of beginning a letter to my dear friends at home: but the

children came up before I had half completed it. At seven I had to put

Mary Ann to bed; then I played with Tom till eight, when he, too, went;

and I finished my letter and unpacked my clothes, which I had hitherto

found no opportunity for doing, and, finally, went to bed myself.

But this is a very favourable specimen of a day’s proceedings.

My task of instruction and surveillance, instead of becoming easier as

my charges and I got better accustomed to each other, became more

arduous as their characters unfolded. The name of governess, I soon

found, was a mere mockery as applied to me: my pupils had no more

notion of obedience than a wild, unbroken colt. The habitual fear of

their father’s peevish temper, and the dread of the punishments he was

wont to inflict when irritated, kept them generally within bounds in

his immediate presence. The girls, too, had some fear of their mother’s

anger; and the boy might occasionally be bribed to do as she bid him by

the hope of reward; but I had no rewards to offer; and as for

punishments, I was given to understand, the parents reserved that

privilege to themselves; and yet they expected me to keep my pupils in

order. Other children might be guided by the fear of anger and the

desire of approbation; but neither the one nor the other had any effect

upon these.

Master Tom, not content with refusing to be ruled, must needs set up as

a ruler, and manifested a determination to keep, not only his sisters,

but his governess in order, by violent manual and pedal applications;

and, as he was a tall, strong boy of his years, this occasioned no

trifling inconvenience. A few sound boxes on the ear, on such

occasions, might have settled the matter easily enough: but as, in that

case, he might make up some story to his mother which she would be sure

to believe, as she had such unshaken faith in his veracity—though I had

already discovered it to be by no means unimpeachable—I determined to

refrain from striking him, even in self-defence; and, in his most

violent moods, my only resource was to throw him on his back and hold

his hands and feet till the frenzy was somewhat abated. To the

difficulty of preventing him from doing what he ought not, was added

that of forcing him to do what he ought. Often he would positively

refuse to learn, or to repeat his lessons, or even to look at his book.

Here, again, a good birch rod might have been serviceable; but, as my

powers were so limited, I must make the best use of what I had.

As there were no settled hours for study and play, I resolved to give

my pupils a certain task, which, with moderate attention, they could

perform in a short time; and till this was done, however weary I was,

or however perverse they might be, nothing short of parental

interference should induce me to suffer them to leave the schoolroom,

even if I should sit with my chair against the door to keep them in.

Patience, Firmness, and Perseverance were my only weapons; and these I

resolved to use to the utmost. I determined always strictly to fulfil

the threats and promises I made; and, to that end, I must be cautious

to threaten and promise nothing that I could not perform. Then, I would

carefully refrain from all useless irritability and indulgence of my

own ill-temper: when they behaved tolerably, I would be as kind and

obliging as it was in my power to be, in order to make the widest

possible distinction between good and bad conduct; I would reason with

them, too, in the simplest and most effective manner. When I reproved

them, or refused to gratify their wishes, after a glaring fault, it

should be more in sorrow than in anger: their little hymns and prayers

I would make plain and clear to their understanding; when they said

their prayers at night and asked pardon for their offences, I would

remind them of the sins of the past day, solemnly, but in perfect

kindness, to avoid raising a spirit of opposition; penitential hymns

should be said by the naughty, cheerful ones by the comparatively good;

and every kind of instruction I would convey to them, as much as

possible, by entertaining discourse—apparently with no other object

than their present amusement in view.

By these means I hoped in time both to benefit the children and to gain

the approbation of their parents; and also to convince my friends at

home that I was not so wanting in skill and prudence as they supposed.

I knew the difficulties I had to contend with were great; but I knew

(at least I believed) unremitting patience and perseverance could

overcome them; and night and morning I implored Divine assistance to

this end. But either the children were so incorrigible, the parents so

unreasonable, or myself so mistaken in my views, or so unable to carry

them out, that my best intentions and most strenuous efforts seemed

productive of no better result than sport to the children,

dissatisfaction to their parents, and torment to myself.

The task of instruction was as arduous for the body as the mind. I had

to run after my pupils to catch them, to carry or drag them to the

table, and often forcibly to hold them there till the lesson was done.

Tom I frequently put into a corner, seating myself before him in a

chair, with a book which contained the little task that must be said or

read, before he was released, in my hand. He was not strong enough to

push both me and the chair away, so he would stand twisting his body

and face into the most grotesque and singular contortions—laughable, no

doubt, to an unconcerned spectator, but not to me—and uttering loud

yells and doleful outcries, intended to represent weeping but wholly

without the accompaniment of tears. I knew this was done solely for the

purpose of annoying me; and, therefore, however I might inwardly

tremble with impatience and irritation, I manfully strove to suppress

all visible signs of molestation, and affected to sit with calm

indifference, waiting till it should please him to cease this pastime,

and prepare for a run in the garden, by casting his eye on the book and

reading or repeating the few words he was required to say. Sometimes he

was determined to do his writing badly; and I had to hold his hand to

prevent him from purposely blotting or disfiguring the paper.

Frequently I threatened that, if he did not do better, he should have

another line: then he would stubbornly refuse to write this line; and

I, to save my word, had finally to resort to the expedient of holding

his fingers upon the pen, and forcibly drawing his hand up and down,

till, in spite of his resistance, the line was in some sort completed.

Yet Tom was by no means the most unmanageable of my pupils: sometimes,

to my great joy, he would have the sense to see that his wisest policy

was to finish his tasks, and go out and amuse himself till I and his

sisters came to join him; which frequently was not at all, for Mary Ann

seldom followed his example in this particular: she apparently

preferred rolling on the floor to any other amusement: down she would

drop like a leaden weight; and when I, with great difficulty, had

succeeded in rooting her thence, I had still to hold her up with one

arm, while with the other I held the book from which she was to read or

spell her lesson. As the dead weight of the big girl of six became too

heavy for one arm to bear, I transferred it to the other; or, if both

were weary of the burden, I carried her into a corner, and told her she

might come out when she should find the use of her feet, and stand up:

but she generally preferred lying there like a log till dinner or

tea-time, when, as I could not deprive her of her meals, she must be

liberated, and would come crawling out with a grin of triumph on her

round, red face. Often she would stubbornly refuse to pronounce some

particular word in her lesson; and now I regret the lost labour I have

had in striving to conquer her obstinacy. If I had passed it over as a

matter of no consequence, it would have been better for both parties,

than vainly striving to overcome it as I did; but I thought it my

absolute duty to crush this vicious tendency in the bud: and so it was,

if I could have done it; and had my powers been less limited, I might

have enforced obedience; but, as it was, it was a trial of strength

between her and me, in which she generally came off victorious; and

every victory served to encourage and strengthen her for a future

contest. In vain I argued, coaxed, entreated, threatened, scolded; in

vain I kept her in from play, or, if obliged to take her out, refused

to play with her, or to speak kindly or have anything to do with her;

in vain I tried to set before her the advantages of doing as she was

bid, and being loved, and kindly treated in consequence, and the

disadvantages of persisting in her absurd perversity. Sometimes, when

she would ask me to do something for her, I would answer,—“Yes, I will,

Mary Ann, if you will only say that word. Come! you’d better say it at

once, and have no more trouble about it.”

“No.”

“Then, of course, I can do nothing for you.”

With me, at her age, or under, neglect and disgrace were the most

dreadful of punishments; but on her they made no impression. Sometimes,

exasperated to the utmost pitch, I would shake her violently by the

shoulder, or pull her long hair, or put her in the corner; for which

she punished me with loud, shrill, piercing screams, that went through

my head like a knife. She knew I hated this, and when she had shrieked

her utmost, would look into my face with an air of vindictive

satisfaction, exclaiming,—“_Now_, then! _that’s_ for you!” and then

shriek again and again, till I was forced to stop my ears. Often these

dreadful cries would bring Mrs. Bloomfield up to inquire what was the

matter?

“Mary Ann is a naughty girl, ma’am.”

“But what are these shocking screams?”

“She is screaming in a passion.”

“I never heard such a dreadful noise! You might be killing her. Why is

she not out with her brother?”

“I cannot get her to finish her lessons.”

“But Mary Ann must be a _good_ girl, and finish her lessons.” This was

blandly spoken to the child. “And I hope I shall _never_ hear such

terrible cries again!”

And fixing her cold, stony eyes upon me with a look that could not be

mistaken, she would shut the door, and walk away. Sometimes I would try

to take the little obstinate creature by surprise, and casually ask her

the word while she was thinking of something else; frequently she would

begin to say it, and then suddenly check herself, with a provoking look

that seemed to say, “Ah! I’m too sharp for you; you shan’t trick it out

of me, either.”

On another occasion, I pretended to forget the whole affair; and talked

and played with her as usual, till night, when I put her to bed; then

bending over her, while she lay all smiles and good humour, just before

departing, I said, as cheerfully and kindly as before—“Now, Mary Ann,

just tell me that word before I kiss you good-night. You are a good

girl now, and, of course, you will say it.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Then I can’t kiss you.”

“Well, I don’t care.”

In vain I expressed my sorrow; in vain I lingered for some symptom of

contrition; she really “didn’t care,” and I left her alone, and in

darkness, wondering most of all at this last proof of insensate

stubbornness. In _my_ childhood I could not imagine a more afflictive

punishment than for my mother to refuse to kiss me at night: the very

idea was terrible. More than the idea I never felt, for, happily, I

never committed a fault that was deemed worthy of such penalty; but

once I remember, for some transgression of my sister’s, our mother

thought proper to inflict it upon her: what _she_ felt, I cannot tell;

but my sympathetic tears and suffering for her sake I shall not soon

forget.

Another troublesome trait in Mary Ann was her incorrigible propensity

to keep running into the nursery, to play with her little sisters and

the nurse. This was natural enough, but, as it was against her mother’s

express desire, I, of course, forbade her to do so, and did my utmost

to keep her with me; but that only increased her relish for the

nursery, and the more I strove to keep her out of it, the oftener she

went, and the longer she stayed, to the great dissatisfaction of Mrs.

Bloomfield, who, I well knew, would impute all the blame of the matter

to me. Another of my trials was the dressing in the morning: at one

time she would not be washed; at another she would not be dressed,

unless she might wear some particular frock, that I knew her mother

would not like her to have; at another she would scream and run away if

I attempted to touch her hair. So that, frequently, when, after much

trouble and toil, I had, at length, succeeded in bringing her down, the

breakfast was nearly half over; and black looks from “mamma,” and testy

observations from “papa,” spoken at me, if not to me, were sure to be

my meed: for few things irritated the latter so much as want of

punctuality at meal times. Then, among the minor annoyances, was my

inability to satisfy Mrs. Bloomfield with her daughter’s dress; and the

child’s hair “was never fit to be seen.” Sometimes, as a powerful

reproach to me, she would perform the office of tire woman herself, and

then complain bitterly of the trouble it gave her.

When little Fanny came into the schoolroom, I hoped she would be mild

and inoffensive, at least; but a few days, if not a few hours, sufficed

to destroy the illusion: I found her a mischievous, intractable little

creature, given up to falsehood and deception, young as she was, and

alarmingly fond of exercising her two favourite weapons of offence and

defence: that of spitting in the faces of those who incurred her

displeasure, and bellowing like a bull when her unreasonable desires

were not gratified. As she, generally, was pretty quiet in her parents’

presence, and they were impressed with the notion of her being a

remarkably gentle child, her falsehoods were readily believed, and her

loud uproars led them to suspect harsh and injudicious treatment on my

part; and when, at length, her bad disposition became manifest even to

their prejudiced eyes, I felt that the whole was attributed to me.

“What a naughty girl Fanny is getting!” Mrs. Bloomfield would say to

her spouse. “Don’t you observe, my dear, how she is altered since she

entered the schoolroom? She will soon be as bad as the other two; and,

I am sorry to say, they have quite deteriorated of late.”

“You may say that,” was the answer. “I’ve been thinking that same

myself. I thought when we got them a governess they’d improve; but,

instead of that, they get worse and worse: I don’t know how it is with

their learning, but their habits, I know, make no sort of improvement;

they get rougher, and dirtier, and more unseemly every day.”

I knew this was all pointed at me; and these, and all similar

innuendoes, affected me far more deeply than any open accusations would

have done; for against the latter I should have been roused to speak in

my own defence: now I judged it my wisest plan to subdue every

resentful impulse, suppress every sensitive shrinking, and go on

perseveringly, doing my best; for, irksome as my situation was, I

earnestly wished to retain it. I thought, if I could struggle on with

unremitting firmness and integrity, the children would in time become

more humanized: every month would contribute to make them some little

wiser, and, consequently, more manageable; for a child of nine or ten

as frantic and ungovernable as these at six and seven would be a

maniac.

I flattered myself I was benefiting my parents and sister by my

continuance here; for small as the salary was, I still was earning

something, and with strict economy I could easily manage to have

something to spare for them, if they would favour me by taking it. Then

it was by my own will that I had got the place: I had brought all this

tribulation on myself, and I was determined to bear it; nay, more than

that, I did not even regret the step I had taken. I longed to show my

friends that, even now, I was competent to undertake the charge, and

able to acquit myself honourably to the end; and if ever I felt it

degrading to submit so quietly, or intolerable to toil so constantly, I

would turn towards my home, and say within myself—

They may crush, but they shall not subdue me!

’Tis of thee that I think, not of them.

About Christmas I was allowed to visit home; but my holiday was only of

a fortnight’s duration: “For,” said Mrs. Bloomfield, “I thought, as you

had seen your friends so lately, you would not care for a longer stay.”

I left her to think so still: but she little knew how long, how

wearisome those fourteen weeks of absence had been to me; how intensely

I had longed for my holidays, how greatly I was disappointed at their

curtailment. Yet she was not to blame in this. I had never told her my

feelings, and she could not be expected to divine them; I had not been

with her a full term, and she was justified in not allowing me a full

vacation.