Books: Jane Eyre

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"I will indeed send her to school soon," murmured Mrs. Reed sotto
voce; and gathering up her work, she abruptly quitted the apartment.

I was left there alone -- winner of the field. It was the hardest
battle I had fought, and the first victory I had gained: I stood
awhile on the rug, where Mr. Brocklehurst had stood, and I enjoyed
my conqueror's solitude. First, I smiled to myself and felt
elate; but this fierce pleasure subsided in me as fast as did the
accelerated throb of my pulses. A child cannot quarrel with its
elders, as I had done; cannot give its furious feelings uncontrolled
play, as I had given mine, without experiencing afterwards the pang
of remorse and the chill of reaction. A ridge of lighted heath,
alive, glancing, devouring, would have been a meet emblem of my
mind when I accused and menaced Mrs. Reed: the same ridge, black
and blasted after the flames are dead, would have represented as
meetly my subsequent condition, when half-an-hour's silence and
reflection had shown me the madness of my conduct, and the dreariness
of my hated and hating position.

Something of vengeance I had tasted for the first time; as aromatic
wine it seemed, on swallowing, warm and racy: its after-flavour,
metallic and corroding, gave me a sensation as if I had been poisoned.
Willingly would I now have gone and asked Mrs. Reed's pardon; but
I knew, partly from experience and partly from instinct, that was
the way to make her repulse me with double scorn, thereby re-exciting
every turbulent impulse of my nature.

I would fain exercise some better faculty than that of fierce
speaking; fain find nourishment for some less fiendish feeling than
that of sombre indignation. I took a book -- some Arabian tales;
I sat down and endeavoured to read. I could make no sense of
the subject; my own thoughts swam always between me and the page
I had usually found fascinating. I opened the glass-door in the
breakfast-room: the shrubbery was quite still: the black frost
reigned, unbroken by sun or breeze, through the grounds. I covered
my head and arms with the skirt of my frock, and went out to walk
in a part of the plantation which was quite sequestrated; but I
found no pleasure in the silent trees, the falling fir-cones, the
congealed relics of autumn, russet leaves, swept by past winds in
heaps, and now stiffened together. I leaned against a gate, and
looked into an empty field where no sheep were feeding, where the
short grass was nipped and blanched. It was a very grey day; a
most opaque sky, "onding on snaw," canopied all; thence flakes felt
it intervals, which settled on the hard path and on the hoary lea
without melting. I stood, a wretched child enough, whispering to
myself over and over again, "What shall I do? -- what shall I do?"

All at once I heard a clear voice call, "Miss Jane! where are you?
Come to lunch!"

It was Bessie, I knew well enough; but I did not stir; her light
step came tripping down the path.

"You naughty little thing!" she said. "Why don't you come when
you are called?"

Bessie's presence, compared with the thoughts over which I had been
brooding, seemed cheerful; even though, as usual, she was somewhat
cross. The fact is, after my conflict with and victory over Mrs.
Reed, I was not disposed to care much for the nursemaid's transitory
anger; and I WAS disposed to bask in her youthful lightness of
heart. I just put my two arms round her and said, "Come, Bessie!
don't scold."

The action was more frank and fearless than any I was habituated
to indulge in: somehow it pleased her.

"You are a strange child, Miss Jane," she said, as she looked down
at me; "a little roving, solitary thing: and you are going to
school, I suppose?"

I nodded.

"And won't you be sorry to leave poor Bessie?"

"What does Bessie care for me? She is always scolding me."

"Because you're such a queer, frightened, shy little thing. You
should be bolder."

"What! to get more knocks?"

"Nonsense! But you are rather put upon, that's certain. My mother
said, when she came to see me last week, that she would not like
a little one of her own to be in your place. -- Now, come in, and
I've some good news for you."

"I don't think you have, Bessie."

"Child! what do you mean? What sorrowful eyes you fix on me!
Well, but Missis and the young ladies and Master John are going
out to tea this afternoon, and you shall have tea with me. I'll
ask cook to bake you a little cake, and then you shall help me to
look over your drawers; for I am soon to pack your trunk. Missis
intends you to leave Gateshead in a day or two, and you shall choose
what toys you like to take with you."

"Bessie, you must promise not to scold me any more till I go."

"Well, I will; but mind you are a very good girl, and don't be
afraid of me. Don't start when I chance to speak rather sharply;
it's so provoking."

"I don't think I shall ever be afraid of you again, Bessie, because
I have got used to you, and I shall soon have another set of people
to dread."

"If you dread them they'll dislike you."

"As you do, Bessie?"

"I don't dislike you, Miss; I believe I am fonder of you than of
all the others."

"You don't show it."

"You little sharp thing! you've got quite a new way of talking.
What makes you so venturesome and hardy?"

"Why, I shall soon be away from you, and besides" -- I was going
to say something about what had passed between me and Mrs. Reed,
but on second thoughts I considered it better to remain silent on
that head.

"And so you're glad to leave me?"

"Not at all, Bessie; indeed, just now I'm rather sorry."

"Just now! and rather! How coolly my little lady says it! I
dare say now if I were to ask you for a kiss you wouldn't give it
me: you'd say you'd RATHER not."

"I'll kiss you and welcome: bend your head down." Bessie stooped;
we mutually embraced, and I followed her into the house quite
comforted. That afternoon lapsed in peace and harmony; and in the
evening Bessie told me some of her most enchanting stories, and sang
me some of her sweetest songs. Even for me life had its gleams of
sunshine.

CHAPTER V

Five o'clock had hardly struck on the morning of the 19th of
January, when Bessie 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 crib. I was to leave Gateshead that day by
a coach which passed the lodge gates at six a.m. Bessie 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. Bessie, 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 pelisse
and bonnet, and wrapping herself in a shawl, she and I left the
nursery. As we passed Mrs. Reed's bedroom, she said, "Will you go
in and bid Missis good-bye?"

"No, Bessie: she came to my crib 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, Miss?"

"Nothing: I covered my face with the bedclothes, and turned from
her to the wall."

"That was wrong, Miss Jane."

"It was quite right, Bessie. Your Missis has not been my friend:
she has been my foe."

"O Miss Jane! don't say so!"

"Good-bye to Gateshead!" cried I, as we passed through the hall
and went out at the front door.

The moon was set, and it was very dark; Bessie 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 she going by herself?" asked the porter's wife.

"Yes."

"And how far is it?"

"Fifty miles."

"What a long way! I wonder Mrs. Reed is not afraid to trust her
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 was taken from Bessie's
neck, to which I clung with kisses.

"Be sure and take good care of her," 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 Bessie 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 Bessie'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 little girl called Jane Eyre here?" she 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: she shut and locked it behind her.
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 she 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 -

"She had better be put to bed soon; she looks tired: are you
tired?" she asked, placing her hand on my shoulder.

"A little, ma'am."

"And hungry too, no doubt: let her have some supper before she
goes to bed, Miss Miller. Is this the first time you have left
your parents to come to school, my little girl?"

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, and sew a little: then she touched my cheek
gently with her forefinger, and saying, "She hoped I should be a
good child," dismissed me along with Miss Miller.

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
her voice, look, and air. Miss Miller 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:
she looked, indeed, what I afterwards found she really was, an
under-teacher. Led by her, 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 girls 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 stuff frocks
of quaint fashion, and long holland pinafores. 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.

Miss Miller signed to me to sit on a bench near the door,
then walking up to the top of the long room she cried out -

"Monitors, collect the lesson-books and put them away! Four tall
girls arose from different tables, and going round, gathered the
books and removed them. Miss Miller again gave the word of command -

"Monitors, fetch the supper-trays!"

The tall girls 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 shaved into fragments.

The meal over, prayers were read by Miss Miller, 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 Miss Miller's bed-fellow; she 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 Miss Miller had taken
her place by my side. When I again unclosed my eyes, a loud bell
was ringing; the girls 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 girls, 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 Miss Miller; afterwards she called out -

"Form classes!"

A great tumult succeeded for some minutes, during which Miss Miller
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; Miss Miller walked from class to class, hushing this
indefinite sound.

A distant bell tinkled: immediately three ladies entered the room,
each walked to a table and took her seat. Miss Miller 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 girls of the first class, rose the whispered words -

"Disgusting! The porridge is burnt again!"

"Silence!" ejaculated a voice; not that of Miss Miller, but one of
the upper teachers, a little and dark personage, smartly dressed,
but of somewhat morose aspect, who installed herself at the top
of one table, while a more buxom lady presided at the other. I
looked in vain for her I had first seen the night before; she was
not visible: Miss Miller occupied the foot of the table where I sat,
and a strange, foreign-looking, elderly lady, 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 girl
taste her 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; she looked at the others;
all their countenances expressed displeasure, and one of
them, the stout 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. Miss Miller was now the only teacher in the
room: a group of great girls standing about her spoke with serious
and sullen gestures. I heard the name of Mr. Brocklehurst pronounced
by some lips; at which Miss Miller shook her head disapprovingly;
but she made no great effort to cheek the general wrath; doubtless
she shared in it.

A clock in the schoolroom struck nine; Miss Miller left
her 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 girls sat motionless and erect; a
quaint assemblage they appeared, all with plain locks combed from
their faces, not a curl visible; in brown dresses, made high and
surrounded by a narrow tucker about the throat, with little pockets
of holland (shaped something like a Highlander's purse) tied in front
of their frocks, and destined to serve the purpose of a work-bag:
all, too, wearing woollen stockings and country-made shoes, fastened
with brass buckles. Above twenty of those clad in this costume
were full-grown girls, or rather young women; it suited them ill,
and gave an air of oddity even to the prettiest.

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 Miss Miller, poor thing! 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 girls
silently and gravely. Miss Miller approaching, seemed to ask her
a question, and having received her answer, went back to
her 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. I suppose I have a considerable organ of
veneration, for I retain yet the sense of admiring awe with which
my eyes traced her steps. Seen now, in broad daylight, she looked
tall, fair, and shapely; brown eyes with a benignant light in their
iris, 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, &c., went on for an hour; writing
and arithmetic succeeded, and music lessons were given by Miss
Temple to some of the elder girls. 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 coarse straw bonnet,
with strings of coloured calico, and a cloak of grey frieze. I was
similarly equipped, and, following the stream, I made my way into
the open air.