SOME time elapsed
before I again gave a lesson
in the first class;
the holiday of Whitsuntide occupied
three days, and on the fourth
it was the turn of the second
division to receive my instructions.
As I made the transit of the
CARRE, I observed, as usual,
the band of sewers surrounding
Mdlle. Henri; there were only
about a dozen of them, but they
made as much noise as might have
sufficed for fifty; they seemed
very little under her control;
three or four at once assailed
her with importunate requirements;
she looked harassed, she demanded
silence, but in vain. She saw
me, and I read in her eye pain
that a stranger should witness
the insubordination of her pupils;
she seemed to entreat order--her
prayers were useless; then I
remarked that she compressed
her lips and contracted her brow;
and her countenance, if I read
it correctly, said--"I have done
my best; I seem to merit blame
notwithstanding; blame me then
who will." I passed on; as I
closed the school-room door,
I heard her say, suddenly and
sharply, addressing one of the
eldest and most turbulent of
the lot--
"Amelie Mullenberg,
ask me no question, and request
of me
no assistance, for a week to
come; during that space of time
I will neither speak to you nor
help you."
The words were uttered with
emphasis--nay, with vehemence--and
a comparative silence followed;
whether the calm was permanent,
I know not; two doors now closed
between me and the CARRE.
Next day was appropriated to
the first class; on my arrival,
I found the directress seated,
as usual, in a chair between
the two estrades, and before
her was standing Mdlle. Henri,
in an attitude (as it seemed
to me) of somewhat reluctant
attention. The directress was
knitting and talking at the same
time. Amidst the hum of a large
school-room, it was easy so to
speak in the ear of one person,
as to be heard by that person
alone, and it was thus Mdlle.
Reuter parleyed with her teacher.
The face of the latter was a
little flushed, not a little
troubled; there was vexation
in it, whence resulting I know
not, for the directress looked
very placid indeed; she could
not be scolding in such gentle
whispers, and with so equable
a mien; no, it was presently
proved that her discourse had
been of the most friendly tendency,
for I heard the closing words--
"C'est assez,
ma bonne amie; a present je
ne veux pas vous
retenir davantage."
Without reply, Mdlle. Henri
turned away; dissatifaction was
plainly evinced in her face,
and a smile, slight and brief,
but bitter, distrustful, and,
I thought, scornful, curled her
lip as she took her place in
the class; it was a secret, involuntary
smile, which lasted but a second;
an air of depression succeeded,
chased away presently by one
of attention and interest, when
I gave the word for all the pupils
to take their reading-books.
In general I hated the reading-lesson,
it was such a torture to the
ear to listen to their uncouth
mouthing of my native tongue,
and no effort of example or precept
on my part ever seemed to effect
the slightest improvement in
their accent. To-day, each in
her appropriate key, lisped,
stuttered, mumbled, and jabbered
as usual; about fifteen had racked
me in turn, and my auricular
nerve was expecting with resignation
the discords of the sixteenth,
when a full, though low voice,
read out, in clear correct English-
"On his way to Perth, the king
was met by a Highland woman,
calling herself a prophetess;
she stood at the side of the
ferry by which he was about to
travel to the north, and cried
with a loud voice, 'My lord the
king, if you pass this water
you will never return again alive!'"--(VIDE
the HISTORY OF SCOTLAND).
I looked up in amazement; the
voice was a voice of Albion;
the accent was pure and silvery
; it only wanted firmness, and
assurance, to be the counterpart
of what any well-educated lady
in Essex or Middlesex might have
enounced, yet the speaker or
reader was no other than Mdlle.
Henri, in whose grave, joyless
face I saw no mark of consciousness
that she had performed any extraordinary
feat. No one else evinced surprise
either. Mdlle. Reuter knitted
away assiduously; I was aware,
however, that at the conclusion
of the paragraph, she had lifted
her eyelid and honoured me with
a glance sideways; she did not
know the full excellency of the
teacher's style of reading, but
she perceived that her accent
was not that of the others, and
wanted to discover what I thought;
I masked my visage with indifference,
and ordered the next girl to
proceed.
When the lesson was over, I
took advantage of the confusion
caused by breaking up, to approach
Mdlle. Henri; she was standing
near the window and retired as
I advanced; she thought I wanted
to look out, and did not imagine
that I could have anything to
say to her. I took her exercise-book;
out of her hand; as I turned
over the leaves I addressed her:--
"You have had lessons in English
before?" I asked.
"No, sir."
"No! you read
it well; you have been in England?"
"Oh, no!" with
some animation.
"You have been
in English families?"
Still the answer
was "No." Here
my eye, resting on the flyleaf
of the book, saw written, "Frances
Evan Henri."
"Your name?" I
asked
"Yes, sir."
My interrogations were cut
short; I heard a little rustling
behind me, and close at my back
was the directress, professing
to be examining the interior
of a desk.
"Mademoiselle," said she, looking
up and addressing the teacher, "Will
you have the goodness to go and
stand in the corridor, while
the young ladies are putting
on their things, and try to keep
some order?"
Mdlle. Henri obeyed.
"What splendid weather!" observed
the directress cheerfully, glancing
at the same time from the window.
I assented and was withdrawing. "What
of your new pupil, monsieur?" continued
she, following my retreating
steps. "Is she likely to make
progress in English?"
"Indeed I can
hardly judge. She possesses
a pretty good accent;
of her real knowledge of the
language I have as yet had no
opportunity of forming an opinion."
"And her natural
capacity, monsieur? I have
had my fears
about that: can you relieve me
by an assurance at least of its
average power?"
"I see no reason
to doubt its average power,
mademoiselle,
but really I scarcely know her,
and have not had time to study
the calibre of her capacity.
I wish you a very good afternoon."
She still pursued
me. "You
will observe, monsieur, and tell
me what you think; I could so
much better rely on your opinion
than on my own; women cannot
judge of these things as men
can, and, excuse my pertinacity,
monsieur, but it is natural I
should feel interested about
this poor little girl (pauvre
petite); she has scarcely any
relations, her own efforts are
all she has to look to, her acquirements
must be her sole fortune; her
present position has once been
mine, or nearly so; it is then
but natural I should sympathize
with her; and sometimes when
I see the difficulty she has
in managing pupils, I reel quite
chagrined. I doubt not she does
her best, her intentions are
excellent; but, monsieur, she
wants tact and firmness. I have
talked to her on the subject,
but I am not fluent, and probably
did not express myself with clearness;
she never appears to comprehend
me. Now, would you occasionally,
when you see an opportunity,
slip in a word of advice to her
on the subject; men have so much
more influence than women have--they
argue so much more logically
than we do; and you, monsieur,
in particular, have so paramount
a power of making yourself obeyed;
a word of advice from you could
not but do her good; even if
she were sullen and headstrong
(which I hope she is not), she
would scarcely refuse to listen
to you; for my own part, I can
truly say that I never attend
one of your lessons without deriving
benefit from witnessing your
management of the pupils. The
other masters are a constant
source of anxiety to me; they
cannot impress the young ladies
with sentiments of respect, nor
restrain the levity natural to
youth: in you, monsieur, I feel
the most absolute confidence;
try then to put this poor child
into the way of controlling our
giddy, high-spirited Brabantoises.
But, monsieur, I would add one
word more; don't alarm her AMOUR
PROPRE; beware of inflicting
a wound there. I reluctantly
admit that in that particular
she is blameably--some would
say ridiculously--susceptible.
I fear I have touched this sore
point inadvertently, and she
cannot get over it."
During the greater part of
this harangue my hand was on
the lock of the outer door; I
now turned it.
"Au revoir, mademoiselle," said
I, and I escaped. I saw the directress's
stock of words was yet far from
exhausted. She looked after me,
she would fain have detained
me longer. Her manner towards
me had been altered ever since
I had begun to treat her with
hardness and indifference: she
almost cringed to me on every
occasion; she consulted my countenance
incessantly, and beset me with
innumerable little officious
attentions. Servility creates
despotism. This slavish homage,
instead of softening my heart,
only pampered whatever was stern
and exacting in its mood. The
very circumstance of her hovering
round me like a fascinated bird,
seemed to transform me into a
rigid pillar of stone; her flatteries
irritated my scorn, her blandishments
confirmed my reserve. At times
I wondered what she meant by
giving herself such trouble to
win me, when the more profitable
Pelet was already in her nets,
and when, too, she was aware
that I possessed her secret,
for I had not scrupled to tell
her as much: but the fact is
that as it was her nature to
doubt the reality and under-value
the worth of modesty, affection,
disinterestedness--to regard
these qualities as foibles of
character--so it was equally
her tendency to consider pride,
hardness, selfishness, as proofs
of strength. She would trample
on the neck of humility, she
would kneel at the feet of disdain;
she would meet tenderness with
secret contempt, indifference
she would woo with ceaseless
assiduities. Benevolence, devotedness,
enthusiasm, were her antipathies;
for dissimulation and self-interest
she had a preference--they were
real wisdom in her eyes; moral
and physical degradation, mental
and bodily inferiority, she regarded
with indulgence; they were foils
capable of being turned to good
account as set-offs for her own
endowments. To violence, injustice,
tyranny, she succumbed--they
were her natural masters; she
had no propensity to hate, no
impulse to resist them; the indignation
their behests awake in some hearts
was unknown in hers. From all
this it resulted that the false
and selfish called her wise,
the vulgar and debased termed
her charitable, the insolent
and unjust dubbed her amiable,
the conscientious and benevolent
generally at first accepted as
valid her claim to be considered
one of themselves; but ere long
the plating of pretension wore
off, the real material appeared
below, and they laid her aside
as a deception.
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