CHAPTER XIV.
MISS MULBERRY--DISCIPLINE AND RECREATION--MADAME--CONVERSATION--ELEANOR'SOPINION OF THE DRAWING-MASTER--MISS ELLEN'S--ELEANOR'S APOLOGY.
Miss Mulberry was our school-mistress, and the head of the Bush Houseestablishment. "Madame" was only a French mistress employed by MissMulberry, though she had more to do with the pupils than Miss Mulberryherself.
Miss Mulberry was stout, and I think by nature disposed to indolence,especially in warm weather. It was all the more creditable to her thatshe had worked hard for many years to support a paralytic mother and adelicate sister. The mother was dead now. Miss Ellen Mulberry, though aninvalid, gave some help in teaching the younger ones; and Bush Househad for so long been a highly-reputed establishment that Miss Mulberrywas more or less prosperous, and could afford to keep a French governessto do the hard work.
Miss Mulberry was very conscientious, very kind-hearted, and the pink ofpropriety. Her appearance, at once bland and solid, produced afavourable impression upon parents and guardians. Being stout, andbetween fifty and sixty years old, she was often described as"motherly," though in the timidity, fidgetiness, and primness of herdealing with girls she was essentially a spinster.
Her good conscience and her timidity both helped to make her feelschool-keeping a heavy responsibility, which should perhaps excuse thefact that we suffered at Bush House from an excess of the meddlesomediscipline which seems to be _de rigueur_ in girls' schools. I thinkMiss Mulberry would have felt that she had neglected her duty if we hadever been left to our own devices for an hour.
To growing girls, not too robust, leading sedentary lives, working veryhard with our heads, and having (wholesome and sufficient meals, but)not as much animal food as most of us were accustomed to at home, the_nag_ of never being free from supervision was both irritating anddepressing. Much worse off were we than boys at school. Noplaying-fields had we; no leave could be obtained for country ramblesby ourselves. Our dismal exercise was a promenade in double file underthe eye and ear of Madame herself.
True, we were allowed fifteen minutes' "recreation" together, and byourselves, in the school-room, just after dinner; but this inestimableprivilege was always marred by the fact that Madame invariably came forus before the quarter of an hour had expired. No other part of schooldiscipline annoyed us as this did. It had that element of injusticeagainst which children always rebel. Why she did so remains to this daya puzzle to me. She worked very hard for her living--a fact which didnot occur to us in those days to modify our view of her as our naturaltormentor. In breaking faith with us daily by curtailing our allottedfifteen minutes of recreation, she deprived herself of rest to the exactamount by which she defrauded us.
She cannot have pined to begin to teach as soon as she had swallowed herfood! I may do her an injustice, but the only reason I can think of as alikely one is that, by taking us unawares, she (I won't say hoped, but)expected to find us "in mischief."
It was a weak point of the arrangements of Bush House that Miss Mulberryleft us so much to the care of Madame. Madame was twice as energetic asMiss Mulberry. Madame never spared herself if she never spared us.Madame was indefatigable, and in her own way as conscientious as MissMulberry herself. But Madame was not just, and she was not truthful. Shehad--either no sense at all, or--a quite different sense from ours ofhonour and uprightness. Perhaps the latter, for she seemed to breakpromises, tell lies, open letters, pry into drawers and boxes, andlisten at keyholes from the highest sense of duty. And, which was evenworse for us, she had no belief whatever in the trustworthiness of herpupils.
Miss Mulberry felt it to be her duty towards our parents and guardiansto keep us under constant supervision; but Madame watched and worriedus, I am convinced, in the persuasion that we were certain to get intomischief if we had the chance, and equally certain to do so deceitfully.She gave us full credit (I never could trace that she saw any discreditin deceit) for slyness in evading her authority, but flattered herselfthat her own superior slyness would maintain it in spite of us.
It vexed us all, but there were times when it irritated Eleanor almostto frenzy. She would have been in disgrace oftener and more seriously onthe subject, but that Madame was a little afraid of her, and was, Ithink, not a little fond of her.
Madame was a clever woman, and a good teacher. She was sharp-witted,ready of tongue, and indefatigably industrious herself; and slow,stupid, or lazy girls found no mercy at her hands.
Eleanor's unusual abilities, the extent of her knowledge and reading ongeneral subjects, the rapidity with which she picked up conversationalFrench and wielded it in discussions with Madame, and finally herindustry and perseverance, won Madame's admiration and good-will. Ithink she almost believed that Mademoiselle Arkwright's word was to berelied upon.
Eleanor never toadied her, which I fear we others (we were so utterly ather mercy!) did sometimes; assuming an interest we did not feel in herdissertations on the greatness of France and the character of herespecial idol, the first Napoleon.
If Madame respected Eleanor, we school-girls almost revered her. "Shetalks so splendidly," Lucy said one day.
Not that the rest of us were by any means dumb. The fact that Englishwas forbidden did not silence us, and on Sunday when (to Madame'sundisguised chagrin) Miss Mulberry allowed us to speak English, wechattered like sparrows during an anthem. But Eleanor introduced a kindof talk which was new to most of us.
We could all chatter of people and places, and what was said on thisoccasion or what happened on another. We had one good mimic (Emma), andtwo or three of us were smart in description. We were observant ofdetails and appearances, and we could one and all "natter" over oursmall grievances without wearying of the subject, and without everspeculating on their causes, or devising remedies for them.
But, with Eleanor, facts served more as points to talk from, than astalk in themselves. Through her influence the Why and How of thingsbegan to steal into our conversation. We had more discussion and lessgossip, and found it better fun.
"One never tells you anything without your beginning to argue about it,"said one of the girls to her one day.
"I'm very sorry," said poor Eleanor.
"You're very clever, you mean," said Emma. "What a lawyer you'd havemade, Eleanor! While we growl at the Toad's tyranny, you make a case outof it."
(I regret to have to confess that, owing to a peculiarity of complexion,Madame was familiarly known to us, behind her back, as the Toad.)
"Well, I don't know," said Eleanor, puckering her brows and nursing herknees, as we all sat or lounged on the school-room floor, during theafter-dinner recreation minutes, in various awkward but restfulattitudes; "I can growl as well as anybody, but I never feel satisfiedwith bewailing over and over again that black's black. One wants to findout why it's black, and if anything would make it white. Besides, Ithink perhaps when one looks into one's grievances, one sees excuses forpeople--there are two sides to every question."
"There'll be one, two, three," said Emma, looking slowly round andcounting the party with a comical imitation of Eleanor's thoughtfulair--"there'll be fifteen sides to every question by the time we've alllearnt to talk like you, my dear."
Eleanor burst out laughing, and we most of us joined her to such goodpurpose, that Madame overheard us, and thought it prudent to break upour sitting, though we had only had a short twelve minutes' rest.
Eleanor not only set the fashion of a more reasonable style of chat inour brief holiday hours, but she was apt to make lessons the subject ofdiscussions which were at first resented by the other girls.
"I can't think," she began one day (it was a favourite way with her ofopening a discussion)--"I can't think what makes Mr. Henley always makeus put the shadows in in cobalt. Some shadows are light blue certainly,I think, especially on these white roads, but I don't think they arealways; not in Yorkshire, at any rate. However, as far as that goes, hepaints his things all in the same colours, whatever they're meant for;the Bay of Naples or the coast of Northum
berland. By the bye, I knowthat I've heard that the shadows on the snow in Canada are reallyblue--bright blue."
"You're blue, deep blue," said Emma. "How you can talk shop out oflesson hours, Eleanor, I can't conceive. You began on grammar the otherday, by way of enlivening our ten minutes' rest."
"I'm very sorry," said Eleanor: "I'm fond of drawing, you know."
"Oh, do let her talk, Emma!" cried Peony. "I do so like to hear her. Whyare the shadows on the snow blue, Eleanor?"
"I can't think," said Eleanor, "unless it has something to do withreflection from the sky."
Eleanor was not always discreet enough to keep her opinion of Mr.Henley's style to herself and us. She was a very clever girl, and, likeother very young people, her cleverness was apt to be aggressive;scorned compromises, and was not always sufficiently respectful towardsthe powers that be.
Her taste for drawing was known, and Madame taunted her one day withhaving a reputation for talent in this line, when her water-colourcopies were not so effective as Lucy's; simply, I believe, with the wishto stimulate her to excel. I am sure Madame much preferred Eleanor toLucy, as a matter of liking.
"Behold, Mademoiselle!" said she, holding up one of Lucy's latestcopies, just glorified with a wide aureole of white cardboard"mounting"; "what do you think of this?"
"It is very like Mr. Henley's," said Eleanor warmly. "Lucy has takengreat pains, I'm sure. It's quite as good as the copy, I think."
"But what do you think of it?" said Madame impatiently; she was tooquick-witted to be easily "put off." "Is it not beautiful?"
"It is very smart, very gay," said Eleanor, who began to lose hertemper. "All Mr. Henley's sketches are gay. The thatch on the housereminds me of the 'ends' of Berlin wool that are kept, after a big pieceof work, for kettle-holders. The yellow tree and the blue tree are verypretty: there always is a yellow tree and a blue tree in Mr. Henley'ssketches. I don't know what kind of trees they are. I never do. Thetrunks are pink, but that doesn't help one, for the markings on them arealways the same."
Eleanor's French was quite good enough to give this speech its fullweight, as Madame's kindling eyes testified. She flung the drawing fromher, and was bursting forth into reply, when, by good luck, MissMulberry called for her so impatiently that she was obliged to leave theroom.
I had been repeating a lesson to Miss Ellen Mulberry, who lay on a couchnear the window, but we had both paused involuntarily to listen toEleanor and Madame.
Miss Ellen was very good. She was also very gentle, and timid tonervousness. But from her couch she saw a good deal of the daily life ofthe school, and often understood matters better than those who were inthe thick of it, I think.
When Madame had left the room, she called Eleanor to her, and in analmost trembling voice said:
"My dear, do you think you are quite right to speak so to Madame aboutthat drawing?"
"I am very sorry, Miss Ellen," said Eleanor; "but it's what I think, andshe asked me what I thought."
"You are very clever, my dear," said Miss Ellen, "and no one knowsbetter than yourself that there are more ways than one of expressingone's opinion."
"Indeed," Eleanor broke in, "I don't want to be rude. I'm sorry I didspeak so pertly. But oh, Miss Ellen, I wish you could see the trees mymother draws! How can I say I like those things of Mr. Henley's? Likegreen seaweeds on the end of a pink hay-fork! And we've lots of oldetchings at home, with such trees in them! Like--well, like nothing butreal trees and photographs."
Miss Ellen took Eleanor's hand and drew her towards her.
"My dear," said she, "you have plenty of sense; and have evidently usedit to appreciate what your dear mother has shown and taught to you. Useit now, my dear, to ask yourself if it is reasonable to expect that menwho could draw like the old masters would teach in ordinary girls'schools, or, if they would, that school-mistresses could afford to paythem properly without a much greater charge to the parents of pupilsthan they would be willing to bear. You have had great advantages athome, and have learnt enough to make you able to say very smart things;but fault-finding is an easy trade, my dear, and it would be wiser aswell as kinder to see what good you can get from poor Mr. Henley'slessons, as to the use of the brush and colours, instead of neglectingyour drawing because you don't like his style, which, after all, youneedn't copy when you sketch from nature yourself. I will tell you, dearchild, that my sister and I have talked this matter over before. Cleveryoung people are apt to think that their stupid elders have neverperceived what their brilliant young wits can put straight withhalf-a-dozen words. But I used to draw a little myself," continued MissEllen very modestly, "and I have never liked Mr. Henley's style. But heis such a very good old man, and so poor, that my sister has shrunk fromchanging. Still, of course our pupils are the first consideration, andwe should have had another master if a much better one could have beengot. But Mr. Markham, who is the only other one within reach, is not sopainstaking and patient with his pupils as Mr. Henley; and though hisstyle is rather better, it is not so very superior as to lead us, on thewhole, to turn poor Mr. Henley away for him. As to Madame," said MissEllen, in conclusion, "she was quite right, my dear, to contrast yournegligence with Lucy's industry, and your smart speech was not in goodtaste towards her, because you know that she knows nothing of drawing,and could not dispute the point with you. There she comes," added MissEllen rather nervously. She was afraid of Madame.
"I'll go and beg her pardon, dear Miss Ellen," said Eleanor penitently,and rushing out of the room, she met Madame in the passage, and we heardher pouring forth a torrent of apology and self-accusation in a stylepeculiar to herself. If in her youth and cleverness she was at times alittle sharp-tongued and self-opinionated, the vehemence of herself-reproaches when she saw herself in fault was always a joke withthose who knew her.
"Eleanor's confessions are only to be matched by her favourite JeremyTaylor's," said Jack one day.
"She's just as bumptious next time, all the same," said Clement. He hadbeen disputing with Eleanor, and the generous grace of meeting anapology half-way was no part of his character.
He had an arbitrary disposition, in which Eleanor to some extent shared.He controlled it to fairness in discussions with men, but with men only.With Eleanor, who persisted in thinking for herself, and was not slow toexpress her thoughts, he had many hot disputes, in which he often seemedunable to be fair, and did not always trouble himself to be reasonable.
By his own account he "detested girls with opinions." Abroad he waspolitely contemptuous of feminine ideas; at home he was apt to be rudelyso.
But this was only one, and a later development of many-sided Clement.
And the subject is a digression, and has no business here.