The Governess [The Little Female Academy]

S >> Sarah Fielding >> The Governess [The Little Female Academy]

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

'Though I had all my life before lived in a family where every one
in it was older, and knew more than myself, yet I was very easy;
for we were generally together in the nursery; and nobody took
much notice of us, whether we knew anything, or whether we did
not. But now, as I lived in the house with only one companion,
who was so much more admired than myself, the comparison began to
vex me, and I found a strong hatred and aversion for my cousin
arising in my mind; and yet, I verily believe I should have got
the better of it, and been willing to have learnt of my cousin,
and should have loved her for teaching me, if any one had told me
it was right; and if it had not been that Betty, the maid who took
care of us, used to be for ever teasing me about the preference
that was shown to my cousin, and the neglect I always met with.
She used to tell me, that she wondered how I could bear to see
Miss Molly so caressed; and that it was want of spirit not to
think myself as good as she was; and, if she was in my place, she
would not submit to be taught by a child; for my Cousin Molly
frequently offered to instruct me in anything she knew; but I used
to say (as Betty had taught me) that I would not learn of her; for
she was but a child, though she was a little older; and that I was
not put under her care, but that of my grandmamma. But she, poor
woman, was so old and unhealthy, that she never troubled her head
much about us, but only to take care that we wanted for nothing.
I lived in this manner three years, fretting and vexing myself
that I did not know so much, nor was not so much liked, as my
Cousin Molly, and yet resolving not to learn anything she could
teach me; when my grandmamma was advised to send me to school;
but, as soon as I came here, the case was much worse; for, instead
of one person to envy, I found many; for all my schoolfellows had
learned more than I; and, instead of endeavouring to get
knowledge, I began to hate all those who knew more than myself;
and this, I am now convinced, was owing to that odious envy,
which, if not cured, would always have made me as miserable as
Mrs. Dison was and which constantly tormented me, till we came to
live in that general peace and good-humour we have lately enjoyed:
and as I hope this wicked spirit was not natural to me, but only
blown up by that vile Betty's instigations, I don't doubt but I
shall now grow very happy, and learn something every day, and be
pleased with being instructed, and that I shall always love those
who are so good as to instruct me.'

Here Miss Patty Lockit ceased; and the dinner-bell called them
from their arbour.

Mrs. Teachum, as soon as they had dined, told them, that she
thought it proper they would use some bodily exercise, that they
might not, by sitting constantly still, impair their health. Not
but that she was greatly pleased with their innocent and
instructive manner of employing their leisure hours; but this wise
woman knew that the faculties of the mind grow languid and
useless, when the health of the body is lost.

As soon as they understood their governess's pleasure, they
readily resolved to obey her commands, and desired that, after
school, they might take a walk as far as the dairy house, to eat
some curds and cream. Mrs. Teachum not only granted their
request, but said she would dispense with their school-attendance
that afternoon, in order to give them more time for their walk,
which was between two and three miles; and she likewise added,
that she herself would go with them. They all flew like lightning
to get their hats, and to equip themselves for their walk; and,
with cheerful countenances, attended Mrs. Teachum in the
schoolroom. This good gentlewoman, so far from laying them under
a restraint by her presence, encouraged them to run in the fields,
and to gather flowers; which they did, each miss trying to get the
best to present to her governess. In this agreeable manner, with
laughing, talking, and singing, they arrived at the dairy-house,
before they imagined they had walked a mile.

There lived at this dairy-house an old woman, near seventy years
of age. She had a fresh colour in her face; but was troubled with
the palsy, that made her head shake a little. She was bent
forward with age, and her hair was quite grey: but she retained
much good-humour, and received this little party with hearty
welcome.

Our little gentry flocked about this good woman, asking her a
thousand questions. Miss Polly Suckling asked her, 'Why she shook
her head so?' and Miss Patty Lockit said, 'She hoped her hair
would never be of such a colour.'

Miss Jenny Peace was afraid they would say something that would
offend the old woman, and advised them to turn their discourse.
'Oh! let the dear rogues alone,' says the old woman; 'I like their
prattle;' and, taking Miss Polly by the hand, said, 'Come, my
dear, we will go into the dairy, and skim the milk pans.' At
which words they all run into the dairy, and some of them dipped
their fingers in the cream; which when Mrs. Nelly perceived (who
was the eldest daughter of the old woman, and who managed all the
affairs) she desired they would walk out of the dairy, and she
would bring them what was fit for them: upon which Miss Dolly
Friendly said, 'she had rather be as old and good-natured as the
mother, than as young and ill-natured as the daughter.'

The old woman desired her company to sit down at a long table,
which she soon supplied with plenty of cream, strawberries, brown
bread, and sugar. Mrs. Teachum took her place at the upper end,
and the rest sat down in their usual order, and eat plentifully of
these good things. After which, Mrs. Teachum told them they might
walk out and see the garden and orchard, and by that time it would
be proper to return home.

The good old woman showed them the way into the garden; and
gathered the finest roses and pinks she could pick, and gave them
to Miss Polly, to whom she had taken a great Fancy.

At their taking leave, Mrs. Teachum rewarded the good old woman
for her trouble; who, on her part, expressed much pleasure in
feeing so many well-behaved young ladies; and said, she hoped they
would come often.

These little friends had not walked far in their way home, before
they met a miserable ragged fellow, who begged their charity. Our
young folks immediately gathered together about this poor
creature, and were hearkening very earnestly to his story, which
he set forth in a terrible manner, of having been burnt out of his
house, and, from one distress to another, reduced to that
miserable state they saw him in, when Mrs. Teachum came up to
them. She was not a little pleased to see all the misses' hands
in their pockets, pulling out half-pence, and some sixpences. She
told them, she approved of their readiness to assist the poor
fellow, as he appeared to them; but oftentimes those fellows made
up dismal stories without much foundation, and because they were
lazy, and would not work. Miss Dolly said, indeed she believed
the poor man spoke truth; for he looked honest; and, besides, he
seemed almost starved.

Mrs. Teachum told them it would be late before they could get
home; so, after each of them had given what they thought proper,
they pursued their walk, prattling all the way.

They got home about nine o'clock; and, as they did not choose any
supper, the bell rang for prayers; after which our young
travellers retired to their rest, where we doubt not but they had
a good repose.

FRIDAY
THE FIFTH DAY.

Mrs. Teachum, in the morning, inquired how her scholars did after
their walk, and was pleased to hear they were all very well. They
then performed their several tasks with much cheerfulness; and,
after the school-hours, they were hastening, as usual, to their
arbour, when Miss Jenny desired them all to go thither without
her, and she would soon follow them; which they readily consented
to; but begged her not to deprive them long of the pleasure of her
sweet company.

Miss Jenny then went directly into her governess's parlour, and
told her that she had some thoughts of reading to her companions a
fairy tale, which was also given her by her mamma; and though it
was not in such a pompous style, nor so full of wonderful images,
as the giant-story; yet she would not venture to read anything of
that kind without her permission; but, as she had not absolutely
condemned all that sort of writing, she hoped she was not guilty
of a fault in asking that permission. Mrs. Teachum, with a
gracious smile, told her, that she seemed so thoroughly well to
understand the whole force of her Monday night's discourse to her,
that she might be trusted almost in anything; and desired her to
go and follow her own judgment and inclinations in the amusement
of her happy friends. Miss Jenny, overjoyed with this kind
condescension in her governess, thanked her, with, a low courtesy,
and said, she hoped she should never do anything unworthy of the
confidence reposed on her; and, hastening to the arbour, she there
found all her little companions quite impatient of this short
absence.

Miss Jenny told them, that she had by her a fairy-tale, which, if
they liked it, she would read; and, as it had pleased her, she did
not doubt but it would give them equal pleasure.

It was the custom now so much amongst them to assent to any
proposal that came from Miss Jenny, that they all with one voice
desired her to read it; till Miss Polly Suckling said, 'that
although she was very unwilling to contradict anything Miss Jenny
liked, yet she could not help saying, she thought it would be
better if they were to read some true history, from which they
might learn something; for she thought fairy-tales were fit only
for little children.

Miss Jenny could not help smiling at such an objection's coming
from the little dumpling, who was not much above seven years of
age; and then said, 'I will tell you a story, my little Polly, of
what happened to me whilst I was at home.

'There came into our village, when I was six years old, a man who
carried about a raree-show, which all the children of the parish
were fond of seeing; but I had taken it into my head, that it was
beneath my wisdom to see raree-shows; and therefore would not be
persuaded to join my companions to see this sight; and although I
had as great an inclination as any of them to see it, yet I
avoided it, in order to boast of my own great sense, in that I was
above such trifles.

'When my mamma asked me, "Why I would not see the show, when she
had given me leave? I drew up my head, and said, "Indeed I did
not like raree-shows. That I had been reading; and I thought that
much more worth my while, than to lose my time at such foolish
entertainments." My mamma, who saw the cause of my refusing this
amusement was only a pretence of being wise, laughed, and said,
"She herself had seen it, and it was really very comical and
diverting." On hearing this, I was heartily vexed to think I had
denied myself a pleasure, which I fancied was beneath me, when I
found even my mamma was not above seeing it. This in a great
measure cured me of the folly of thinking myself above any
innocent amusement. And when I grew older, and more capable of
hearing reason, my mamma told me, "She had taken this method of
laughing at me, as laughing is the proper manner of treating
affectation; which of all things, she said, she would have me
carefully avoid; otherwise, whenever I was found out, I should
become contemptible."'

Here Miss Jenny ceased speaking; and Miss Polly Suckling, blushing
that she had made any objection to what Miss Jenny had proposed,
begged her to begin the fairy tale; when just at that instant,
Mrs. Teachum, who had been taking a walk in the garden, turned
into the arbour to delight herself with a view of her little
school united in harmony and love, and Miss Jenny, with great good
humour, told her mistress the small contest she had just had with
Miss Polly about reading a fairy tale, and the occasion of it.
Mrs. Teachum kindly chucking the little dumpling under the chin,
said, she had so good an opinion of Miss Jenny, as to answer for
her, that she would read nothing to them but what was proper; and
added, that she herself would stay and hear this fairy tale which
Miss Jenny, on her commands, immediately began.

THE PRINCESS HEBE.
A FAIRY TALE.

Above two thousand years ago, there reigned over the kingdom of
Tonga, a king, whose name was Abdallah. He was married to a young
princess, the daughter of a king of a neighbouring country, whose
name was Rousignon. Her beauty and prudence engaged him so far in
affection to her, that every hour he could possibly spare from
attending the affairs of his kingdom he spent in her apartment.
They had a little daughter, to whom they gave the name of Hebe,
who was the darling and mutual care of both.

The king was quiet in his dominion, beloved by his subjects, happy
in his family, and all his days rolled on in calm content and joy.
The king's brother Abdulham was also married to a young princess,
named Tropo, who in seven years had brought him no children; and
she conceived so mortal a hatred against the queen (for she envied
her the happiness of the little Princess Hebe) that she resolved
to do her some mischief. It was impossible for her, during the
king's lifetime, to vent her malice without being discovered, and
therefore she pretended the greatest respect and friendship
imaginable for the unsuspecting queen.

Whilst things were in this situation, the king fell into a violent
fever, of which he died; and during the time that the queen was in
the height of her affliction for him, and could think of nothing
but his loss, the Princess Tropo took the opportunity of putting
in execution her malicious intentions. She inflamed her husband's
passions, by setting forth the meanness of his spirit, in letting
a crown be ravished from his head by a female infant, till
ambition seized his mind, and he resolved to wield the Tongian
sceptre himself. It was very easy to bring this about, for, by
his brother's appointment, he was protector of the realm, and
guardian to the young princess his niece; and the queen taking him
and the princess his wife for her best friends, suspected nothing
of their designs, but in a manner gave herself up to their power.

The protector Abdulham, having the whole treasure of the kingdom
at his command, was in possession of the means to make all his
schemes successful; and the Princess Tropo, by lavishly rewarding
the instruments of her treachery, contrived to make it generally
believed, that the queen had poisoned her husband, who was so much
beloved by his subjects, that the very horror of the action,
without any proof of her guilt, raised against the poor unhappy
Queen a universal clamour, and a general aversion throughout the
whole kingdom. The princess had so well laid her scheme, that the
guards were to seize the queen, and convey her to a place of
confinement, till she could prove her innocence; which, that she
might never be able to do, proper care was taken by procuring
sufficient evidence to accuse her on oath; and the Princess Hebe,
her daughter, was to be taken from her, and educated under the
care of her uncle. But the night before this cruel design was to
have been put in execution, a faithful attendant of the queen's,
named Loretta, by the assistance of one of the Princess Tropo's
confidants (who had long professed himself her lover) discovered
the whole secret, of which she immediately informed her royal
mistress.

The horrors which filled the queen's mind at the relation of the
Princess Tropo's malicious intentions, were inexpressible, and her
perturbation so great, that she could not form any scheme that
appeared probable to execute for her own preservation. Loretta
told her that the person who had given her this timely notice, had
also provided a peasant who knew the country, and would meet her
at the western gate of the city, and, carrying the young Princess
Hebe in his arms, would conduct her to some place of safety; but
she must consent to put on a disguise, and escape that very night
from the palace, or she would be lost for ever. Horses or mules,
she said, it would be impossible to come at without suspicion;
therefore she must endeavour (though unused to such fatigue) to
travel afoot till she got herself concealed in some cottage from
her pursuers, if her enemies should think of endeavouring to find
her out. Loretta offered to attend her mistress, but she
absolutely forbad her going any farther than to the western gate;
where delivering the little Princess Hebe into the arms of the
peasant, who was there waiting for them, she reluctantly withdrew.

The good queen, who saw no remedy to this her terrible disgrace,
could have borne this barbarous usage without much repining, had
she herself been the only sufferer by it; for the loss of the good
king her husband so far exceeded all her other misfortunes, that
every everything else was trifling in comparison of so dreadful an
affliction. But the young Princess Hebe, whom she was accustomed
to look on as her greatest blessing, now became to her an object
of pity and concern; for, from being heiress to a throne, the poor
infant, not yet five years old, was, with her wretched mother,
become a vagabond, and knew not whither to fly for protection.

Loretta had prevailed on her royal mistress to take with her a few
little necessaries, besides a small picture of the king, and some
of her jewels, which the queen contrived to conceal under her
night-clothes, in the midst of that hair they were used to adorn,
when her loved husband delighted to see it displayed in flowing
ringlets round her snowy neck. This lady, during the life of her
fond husband, was by his tender care kept from every inclemency of
the air, and preserved from every inconvenience that it was
possible for human nature to suffer. What then must be her
condition now, when through bypaths and thorny ways, she was
obliged to fly with all possible speed, to escape the fury of her
cruel pursuers: for she too well knew the merciless temper of her
enemies, to hope that they would not pursue her with the utmost
diligence, especially as she was accompanied by the young Princess
Hebe; whose life was the principal cause of their disquiet, and
whose destruction they chiefly aimed at.

The honest peasant, who carried the Princess Hebe in his arms,
followed the queen's painful steps; and seeing the day begin to
break, he begged her, if possible, to hasten on to a wood which
was not far off, where it was likely she might find a place of
safety. But the afflicted queen, at the sight of the opening morn
(which once used to fill her mind with rising joy) burst into a
flood of tears, and, quite overcome with grief and fatigue, cast
herself on the ground, crying out in the most affecting manner,
'The end of my misfortunes is at hand. My weary limbs will no
longer support me. My spirits fail me. In the grave alone must I
seek for shelter.' The poor princess, seeing her mother in tears,
cast her little arms about her neck, and wept also, though she
knew not why.

Whilst she was in this deplorable condition, turning round her
head, she saw behind her a little girl, no older in appearance
than the Princess Hebe; who, with an amiable and tranquil
countenance, begged her to rise and follow her, and she would lead
her where she might refresh and repose herself.

The queen was surprised at the manner of speaking of this little
child, as she took her to be; but soon thought it was some kind
fairy sent to protect her, and was very ready to submit herself to
her guidance and protection.

The little fairy (for such indeed was the seeming child who had
thus accosted them) ordered the peasant to return back, and said
that she would take care of the queen, and her young daughter; and
he, knowing her to be the good fairy Sybella, very readily obeyed.

Sybella then striking the ground three times with a little wand,
there suddenly rose up before them a neat plain car, and a pair of
milk-white horses; and placing the queen with the Princess Hebe in
her lap by her side, she drove with excessive swiftness full
westward for eight hours; when (just as the sun began to have
power enough to make the queen almost faint with the heat and her
former fatigue) they arrived at the side of a shady wood; upon
entering of which, the fairy made her horses slacken in their
speed, and having travelled about a mile and a half, through rows
of elms and beech trees, they came to a thick grove of firs, into
which there seemed to be no entrance. For there was not any
opening to a path, and the underwood consisting chiefly of
rose-bushes, white-thorn, eglantine, and other flowering shrubs,
was so thick, that it appeared impossible to attempt forcing
through them. But alighting out of the car (which immediately
disappeared) the fairy (bidding the queen follow her) pushed her
way through a large bush of jessamine, whose tender branches gave
way for their passage and then closed again, so as to leave no
traces of an entrance into this charming grove.

Having gone a little way through an extreme narrow path, they came
into an opening (quite surrounded by these firs and sweet
underwood) not very large, but in which was contained everything
that is necessary towards making life comfortable. At the end of
a green meadow was a plain neat house, built more for convenience
than beauty, fronting the rising sun; and behind it was a small
garden, stored only with fruits and useful herbs. Sybella
conducted her guests into this her simple lodging; and as repose
was the chief thing necessary for the poor fatigued queen, she
prevailed with her to lie down on a couch. Some hours' sound
sleep, which her weariness induced, gave her a fresh supply of
spirits; the ease and safety from her pursuers, in which she then
found herself, made her for a short time tolerably composed; and
she begged the favour of knowing to whom she was so greatly
obliged for this her happy deliverance; but the fairy seeing her
mind too unsettled to give any due attention to what she should
say, told her that she would defer the relation of her own life
(which was worth her observation) till she had obtained a respite
from her own sorrows; and in the meantime, by all manner of
obliging ways, she endeavoured to divert and amuse her.

The queen, after a short interval of calmness of mind, occasioned
only by her so sudden escape from the terrors of pursuit, returned
to her former dejection, and for some time incessantly wept at the
dismal thought, that the princess seemed now, by this reverse of
fate, to be for ever excluded all hopes of being seated on her
father's throne; and, by a strange perverse way of adding to her
own grief, she afflicted herself the more, because the little
princess was ignorant of her misfortune; and whenever she saw her
diverting herself with little childish plays, instead of being
pleased with such her innocent amusement, it added to her sorrow,
and made her tears gush forth in a larger stream than usual. She
could not divert her thoughts from the palace from which she had
been driven, to fix them on any other object; nor would her grief
suffer her to reflect, that it was possible for the princess to be
happy without a crown.

At length time, the great cure of all ills, in some measure abated
her Sorrows; her grief began to subside; in spite of herself, the
reflection that her misery was only in her own fancy, would
sometimes force itself on her mind. She could not avoid seeing,
that her little hostess enjoyed as perfect a state of happiness as
is possible to attain in this world; that she was free from
anxious cares, undisturbed by restless passions, and mistress of
all things that could be of any use to make life easy or
agreeable. The oftener this reflection presented itself to her
thoughts, the more strength it gained; and, at last, she could
even bear to think, that her beloved child might be as happy in
such a situation, as was her amiable hostess. Her countenance now
grew more cheerful; she could take the Princess Hebe in her arms,
and thinking the jewels she had preserved would secure her from
any fear of want, look on her with delight; and began even to
imagine, that her future life might be spent in calm content and
pleasure.

As soon as the voice of reason had gained this power over the
queen, Sybella told her, that now her bosom was so free from
passion, she would relate the history of her life. The queen,
overjoyed that her curiosity might now be gratified, begged her
not to delay giving her that pleasure one moment; on which our
little fairy began in the following manner.

But there Mrs. Teachum told Miss Jenny that the bell rung for
dinner; on which she was obliged to break off. But meeting again
in the same arbour in the evening, when their good mistress
continued to them the favour of her presence, Miss Jenny pursued
her story.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11