Autobiographical fiction; England -- Fiction; Feminist fiction; Governesses -- Fiction; Single women -- Fiction
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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