Happily these trifling matters had no importance for me; it did not matter to me at all what sort of _chapeau d"uniforme_ they chose.
How wrong I was! It mattered to me more than to any one else in the whole school, because no one wore their _chapeau d"uniforme_ so much, and no one took the poor thing out so frequently into storm and rain.
All the other boarders attended early ma.s.s on Sunday mornings in a convent chapel, within five minutes" walk of the school. The other occasions when they wore the fragile white chip _chapeau_ were safe occasions, when, if it rained, they took shelter in their own homes on the monthly holidays, or were sent back to school in a _fiacre_. My case was different. Every Sunday morning, in accordance with the arrangement made by my mother, my brother called at the Rue d"Isabelle to take me to the English Church, which in those days was a sort of hall, known as the "_Temple Anglican_," situated in a pa.s.sage near the Bruxelles Museum.
The service was generally over by noon; but it was too late for me to return to school in time for the dejeuner at mid-day, and this authorised the custom of my taking lunch with my brother and enjoying a short walk afterwards; so that I was taken back by him to the Rue d"Isabelle before four o"clock. Now it will be easily understood that this agreeable arrangement had temptations: and that _sometimes_, on _very_ fine days, there would occur forgetfulness of the "Temple Anglican" altogether; and the whole of these four or five hours would be spent in our favourite haunt, the Bois de la Cambre, where we would picnic, on cakes and fruit, when there was pocket-money enough, or on two halfpenny "pistolets," when, as often happened, ten centimes, that ought to have gone into the plate at the Temple, was all we had. And whether the lunch was of cakes, or of dry bread, it did not alter the fact that we talked of home incessantly; and were supremely happy. Yes; but no doubt our conduct was reprehensible, and did not deserve the favour of Heaven. And my recollection is that almost invariably these picnics in the Bois de la Cambre, to which an exceptionally fine day had tempted us, ended in a downpour of rain. And how it rains at Brussels, when it does rain! So now, think of the state of the white chip Bonnet, and of the bunch of rosebuds, interwoven with blonde, and of the white silk ribbon edged with black velvet, that I took back with me to the Rue d"Isabelle.
And it is here where the beautiful nature of Belgian schoolgirls, or of these particular Belgian schoolgirls who were my companions and contemporaries, stands revealed. For upon one particular Sunday, having hastily and silently fled to the dormitory upon my return, and being discovered there, in dismayed contemplation of the lamentable saturated mixture of mashed up tinted pulp and wires, that had once been rosebuds and blonde, my depths of despondency moved these sympathetic young hearts to compa.s.sion. As it was Sunday afternoon, one was allowed to loiter over getting ready for dinner; a circle of consolers gathered round me, and from it, forth stepped two rival aspirants to the honour of sacrificing themselves on the altar of friendship. The first said: "Now nothing is more simple: we shall wrap up this unhappy rag in my handkerchief as you see;_--You shall have my chapeau d"uniforme_, and I shall tell Maman everything--she interests herself in you; for when she was young, she was at school in England. She will send me another _chapeau d"uniforme_, and all is said."
The other girl, whose name was Henriette--I forget her surname--said, "My plan is easier: for here is an accident,--as though it were done on purpose. Now what do you say: I have two _chapeaux d"uniforme_, if you please! The first my mother sent me as a model to show Madame Heger, and from this model she chose it. But now Madame had ordered mine with the others: and when I told my mother, she said, "Say nothing: an accident may happen, the Bonnet will not support rain, you will have this one at hand if a misfortune arrive. Well, and here is the misfortune: there"s no difficulty at all."
Both of these girls had their homes in Brussels, and both of them I knew had everything their own way with two fondly indulgent mammas. I had no scruple in accepting their generous sacrifice, and I hugged them both, and was really (I who despised tears) on the verge of crying. Between the two, I hardly knew which offer to take, but it seemed to me that as Henriette had two Bonnets, it was most reasonable to take hers. And we all went down to dinner happily. And the "Unhappy rag" "_cette malheureuse loque_," was buried in the _hangar_, the wood-house at the bottom of the garden.
But under cloudless skies one is p.r.o.ne to forget the lessons of misfortune. It took some time--but the Sunday came when, once again, it seemed "almost wrong" to waste summer hours in the Temple Anglican, when one felt so good under the beautiful trees in the Bois de la Cambre. And then there was pocket-money in hand, and a lunch of cakes, and not halfpenny pistolets, could be obtained.
"I suppose you don"t think it will rain?" I suggested.
"Rain!" My brother said with scorn. "Look at that sky! How could it rain?"
It managed to do it. True, it was only a brief shower: but the water came down in sheets. In despair I took off the _chapeau d"uniforme_, and my brother, who wore an Inverness cape, sheltered it under the flap. I stood to hold the cape at a right angle, so that the precious object might not be crushed, and we were watching it under this sheltering wing, and my brother was a.s.suring me it was all right when,--as I stood there bareheaded and rain-beaten, beneath a tree by the side of the broad path near the entrance to the wood--a short, stoutish man, b.u.t.toned up to the chin in his greatcoat, and holding his umbrella tightly, walked by us at a great pace, without (so at least it seemed) looking at us at all. And that man was M. Heger. We gasped, and looked at each other.
"He didn"t see us," said my brother cheerily. "What a bit of luck!"
"You may be quite sure he did see us," I answered. "Well, I wonder what will happen now?"
With this new anxiety on our hands, even the precious _chapeau d"uniforme_ became a secondary consideration. But the shower having pa.s.sed, we examined it carefully. There was no disaster this time. The rosebuds were still rosebuds and the blonde still blonde. It is true that a splash had fallen on the white chip crown, but my brother was always ready with comfort.
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE GALERIE AND GARDEN IN WINTER (The Allee Defendue is on the left. The old pear-tree, whose lower branches still blossomed in spring, is on the right)]
"When it"s dry," he told me, "you"ll easily get that off with a bit of bread."
This consoled me for the time being: but he was wrong as to the question of facts. Bread had no effect upon that blot. It remained an island, or, to speak more correctly, a coast-line, on the white chip, to the end of that _chapeau d"uniforme_"s existence. But one dusted the stain over with white powder before putting on one"s Bonnet, and hoped no one noticed it? So far as I know, no one did. But let it not be supposed that I escaped moral punishment: I, who had once boasted in my pride that nothing was less indifferent to me than my Sunday Bonnet, wore this one uneasily to the end of the term, always conscious that the tell-tale stain was there, and might suggest questions as to its origin.
Nor did I escape scot-free from M. Heger"s hands, although he did behave with a certain generosity, for he kept the secret. But he used his own method of punishment.
Happy in the confidence given me by my brother"s a.s.surance that I should easily get rid of the rain-blot, I went back to the Rue d"Isabelle, in some anxiety about M. Heger, but _nearly_ persuaded that, after all, perhaps, with his umbrella to think of and grasp, and the hurry he was in, he _very likely_ hadn"t seen us. But when the pupil"s door was opened in answer to my ring, and I was hoping to hurry through the corridor to the staircase leading to the dormitories, I found M. Heger waiting for me. He barred my path and looked down at me with his penetrating, mocking eyes,--that, although I do not like to contradict Charlotte, I still think had more green and steel, than violet-blue, colour in them.
"A-ah," he said with his long-drawn sigh, "you are attentive at my lessons, Mees; do you now listen with the same attention to the sermon of the Minister at your Temple?"
Here was my opportunity; of course I ought to have said, "_No, Monsieur, I don"t listen to any one with so much attention as I do to you: no one interests me so much_." When I had got upstairs and had taken off the _chapeau d"uniforme_, I realised that this was what any rational being would have said. But it was too late then--all I did say was, "_Je ne sais pas, Monsieur_" (a bad French accent too).
"A-ah," he repeated, tightening his mouth, "now I should like to see whether you profit by the instructions of your Minister: Thus I shall be glad if you will write me a _resume_ in French of the sermon you heard to-day at the Temple. It will be a good exercise for you in the French language. And also I shall enjoy the happiness of knowing this wise Minister"s advice. It is understood, you will give me the _resume_ of this sermon to-morrow."
"_Oui, Monsieur_."
All through the evening recreation hours, and at night when I fought against sleepiness in my bed, I worked over the composition of that sermon. It is true that I did fall asleep in the middle of it myself; but that does not prove it was a dull sermon, for I took it up again in the morning with renewed zest. I gave up my whole recreation hour after _dejeuner_ to writing it out. And I believed it to be as good a sermon as was ever preached. And there was no vanity in this belief: because it was not my own sermon, but one I had originally heard preached in my childhood in an old village church, and the arguments in favour of being good and simple had taken hold of my imagination, partly on account of the a.s.sociations with the place where I heard it. Well, but now, can my readers deny that when I say M. Heger was a more irritating than lovable man, I have sound reasons for my statement? _After ordering me to write that sermon, and when I had stolen several hours from my sleep, and given up two recreations to obey him, he never asked for it!_ And when I told him I had written the sermon and that it was ready for him, he merely looked down upon me with a strange twinkle in his eyes, and said, "_A-ah, c"est bien. Vous l"avez donc bien retenu, ce fameux sermon? tant mieux, tant mieux_."
[1] _Villette_, chapter viii.
CHAPTER VI
MADAME HEGER"S SENTIMENT OF THE JUSTICE OF RESIGNATION TO INJUSTICE
At the end of these reminiscences I have now to relate the incident that stands out in my memory as, not only the most bitter experience I had ever, up to this date, undergone of personal injustice in my brief life of fifteen years, not only, what was of great moral importance to me, my first lesson in the philosophy of refusing to torment oneself in order to punish one"s tormentors, but also the incident that revealed to me a secret sorrow hidden away under Madame Heger"s serenity; and that convinces me, now, that the tragical romance of Charlotte Bronte was not to her, as it must have been to M. Heger, misunderstood, and regarded as an event of small importance; but that it "entered into her life," and was to her a very serious trouble.
One day in June, I am not able to remember now upon what especial occasion, nor in honour of what event, all the school was given an entire holiday: and, for its better enjoyment, the girls were invited by a former pupil in the Rue d"Isabelle, who had married and possessed a fine chateau and a large garden within walking distance of Bruxelles, to spend the whole day in her house and garden, where a mid-day collation was prepared for them. I remember very little about the day"s enjoyments--the cruel impressions that followed the pleasant holiday have effaced from my memory almost everything that preceded them. I know, however, that all was sunshine and good humour: that my companions whom I had trusted as friends were as friendly to me as ever; and that with my two chosen companions, the philosopher Marie Hazard and the other still dearer friend, who was a philosopher in a different sense, as a profound Nature-worshipper,--where _I_ was supposed to be a philosopher in a sense of my own as a worshipper of ideas--talked "philosophy" wisely and well--in our own estimation, and ate red gooseberries. As we talked other girls discovered these gooseberry-bushes also, and came in flocks: so we three withdrew, and sat down under some shady tree, and were very happy and at peace. Near us, on a low cane chair, sat one of the under-mistresses, a Frenchwoman, whom I liked extremely, and who also liked me: her name was Mlle.
Zelie--she was too young to have been one of the mistresses known to Charlotte Bronte twenty years before. She may have been twenty-six: or she may have been thirty.
As she sat there, doing embroidery, and watching all the time a swarm of girls picking gooseberries,--we three, who had left off picking them, were at rest upon the gra.s.s,--there came, suddenly, a servant in great haste sent from the Rue d"Isabelle by Madame Heger, with a letter: neither Monsieur nor Madame had arrived yet, they were to be there in time for the collation in the afternoon. The letter was an urgent order to Mlle. Zelie that the girls were not to _touch the fruit in the kitchen garden_--this stipulation had been made by the generous hostess, who had invited all this company to a feast of cakes and cream and good things of every description, but who wanted her gooseberries and currants for jam. Here of course was cause of great dismay: although the bushes had not been entirely stripped, yet certainly thirty or forty girls amongst the gooseberry-bushes alone had made their mark. We three philosophers had trifled with one bush perhaps; but our share in the depredation was comparatively slight. A bell was rung, and the message read aloud. I am convinced from that moment onwards no one touched any fruit:--still the mischief had been done; it was obvious to the naked eye that the gooseberry-bushes had been attacked.
The person who seemed most distressed was poor Mlle. Zelie: she blamed no one, but repeated constantly, "Why then did not Madame warn me? Never should I have permitted it, had I not supposed that it was understood that these gooseberries, without value for that matter, were intended to be eaten. It seemed to me, in the absence of instructions, so natural."
And a chorus of girls answered: "We thought it too, Mademoiselle: never would we have touched a gooseberry had we understood."
There the matter remained. We were not particularly unhappy: as a matter of fact all the gooseberries in the garden could have been purchased for five francs in Bruxelles. No harm had been done the bushes: it was a _mal entendu_--what would you have? The only person who seemed to take it to heart was poor Mlle. Zelie.
"Quel malheur," she kept repeating. "Quel malheur! mais aussi, pourquoi Madame ne m"a-t-elle rien dit?"
We continued, Marie Hazard and myself, sitting under our shady tree; our third philosopher, the Nature-worshipper, always good at decoration, had been called off to a.s.sist at laying out the tables, and arranging flowers; groups of other girls were sitting in circles on the gra.s.s or walking about arm in arm, when--suddenly arrived upon the scene M.
Heger. He came up with an amiable expression: but in a moment the look changed to one black as night: he had seen the tell-tale signs of the depredations inflicted on the gooseberry-bushes.
"Who is responsible for this?" he asked, "_c"est une ba.s.sesse!_ Mlle.
Zelie, what does this signify? Were you not told the fruit was to be respected?"
Poor Mlle. Zelie stood there quivering with terror.
"Unhappily," she said, "Madame"s letter arrived too late: without bad intention, these young girls imagined themselves free to eat gooseberries: from the moment it was known that it was forbidden, I am sure there was no infraction of the rule: but alas! what was done, was done. I regret it profoundly: and so I am sure do you, is it not so, my children?" she asked, turning to Marie Hazard and myself:--there was a clear and empty s.p.a.ce around us--every other girl had somehow vanished.
"Yes, Mademoiselle, we are very sorry," both of us answered at once.
M. Heger swooped round upon us in his wrath.
"And so," he said, "it is _you_, is it; you two who have so much pride, both of you; who are so little sensitive to the counsels of your teachers, you, who are so superior in your own esteem, who are the guilty ones? It is you two, and you alone in the entire Pension, who have been capable of this indignity? And see what ruin you have made!
Are you not ashamed--what gluttony!"
"Mais non, Monsieur, non," pleaded Mademoiselle Zelie, "these young girls are not alone responsible; many others also took the fruit; you must not blame them for everything."
"Is that so, Mademoiselle Hazard? Is that so, Mees?"
"Il ne faut pas nous demander cela," said I, with my usual bad accent in agitated moments. "C"est aux autres qu"il faut le demander."
"Mais oui," he said, "and this is what I intend to do; Mlle. Zelie, do me this pleasure: fetch me the _eleves_ who were here just now: call them together. I must get to the bottom of this. Je dois approfondir cela."
Mlle. Zelie was some time about it: but in the end, she returned with a good company of girls, forty or fifty at least; amongst them nearly all of those who had been most busy amongst the gooseberry bushes. They stood round us in a sort of circle; Marie Hazard, myself, and M. Heger.