Chapter X.

Young Life in La Maison

Mr. Charles Hunter, a Liverpool merchant, was seated in the breakfast-room of his villa at Peterloo, reading the morning journal, and smoking."Look, here, Jessie, he called to his wife, who, breakfast being over, was moving about the room: then, taking the cigar from his mouth, he pointed to an advertisement. She began to read it aloud:"In La Maison a school is now open for day boarders or day scholars, from eleven a.m. to one o'clock and from two p.m. to five o'clock." "Here!” he said,"here is the point for us,"somewhat impatiently pointing to a paragraph further on. To it his wife passed and again read:"No holidays at stated intervals are given."

"That shows, to my mind,"said Mr. Hunter,"that these are sensible people. If there is one piece of folly greater than another in the present foolish system of education, it is the giving of such absurdly long holidays. You know, surely, how Lotta and Blanche never gain anything in the holidays; and, in my opinion, they lose a great deal. It is nonsense to think that children require change of air from a place like this! And for two months, forsooth, each year! No end of expense parents are put to; and as for comfort — Do you remember, at Scarbro' last summer, how miserable the children were, because no school-companions chanced to be near them ? And at Christmas, Lotta lounged about all day reading trashy novels till the skating and parties began together."

"Well! it wasn't her fault, Charles, that the frost came the very day of Mrs. Marlow's party!"

"Did I say it was her fault, my dear ? I am merely commenting on facts. The child lived in a whirl of excitement for ten days or more, and then broke down. That feverish attack cost us a doctor's bill and the loss of some weeks' schooling."

"But, Charles! these people are peculiar! I heard Mr. Field say so. And they don't go to church! Surely you would not — oh! don't, please, entrust Blanche and Lotta to their care!"

"Field is an idiot! Never quote him to me," cried Mr. Hunter, going off, as he frequently did, on a side issue when answering his illogical wife."Field is in with that bubble Company again — the new Arizona! Ha-ha! As a director, too! The pious merchants, my dear, are about the greatest speculators I know."

"Charles! I do wish you would not scoff' at religion."

"No, no, Jessie, I do not scoff at all religion. I know you're a good woman."Mr, Hunter blandly looked at his wife, and placed one hand on her shoulder. "Let us see,"he then said, coaxingly, "what is said about applying at that school;" and taking up the journal: "Ah! the hour to apply is from five to nine, I shall go there this evening."

Without waiting for further remark, he promptly buttoned his coat, and put on an air of business on hand, — not-to-be-trifled-with, as he bade his wife good-bye, and hurried off to town.

At a quarter past five o'clock of the same day he presented himself at the gate of La Maison. He was conducted to the visitors' room, on the basement floor, where Walter Cairns received him. The school curriculum was explained to Mr. Hunter, with the system of education pursued — no prize-giving, no cramming or straining of a child's natural powers, no artificial stimulus of any kind; no competition in class; but in all work, co-operation, self-help and mutual help, with only such emulation as is free of anti-social feeling.

"You don't mean to turn out stuck-up prigs and strong-minded females! that is clear,"said Mr. Hunter. "Well, if my young ones were boys, I can't say your system would strike me as quite the thing: a man must fight like his fellows wherever he is! He must compete and struggle, and may have to trample down a fellow competitor to make way for himself in the world's market. Greek and Latin are no good — I am glad they seem nowhere much with you; but competition — a boy is the better for that and for anything, no matter what, that sharpens his wits. However, I have no boys, as it happens: mine are lasses, as we Scotchmen say, and I don't want them to take up any of the eccentricities fashionable amongst their sex! That higher education of women is making fools of us all. What with Grirton scholars, platform orators, the shrieking sisterhood, as The Saturday Review well called them, and it might have added the pottering sisterhood — women, for ever in back slums, coddling the poor and catching infection, — I wonder where a sensible man is to look by-and-by for a wife who will stay quietly at home and attend to the family?"

A somewhat sad smile flitted across Walter Cairns' features as he remarked politely: "You allow nothing for change in masculine type ? I fancy many men want more from a wife than your picture of haus-frau well covers. The need for equal companionship grows fest in the race"

Mr. Hunter hastened to interrupt. He wanted no discussion on questionable points, and that word "race” was indicative of dangerous ground. He viewed mankind subjectively from a lofty mercantile eminence, and was quite prepared to be tolerant of some weakness — a mild insanity, even — in these educationists, if only it were not forced upon his notice. '"Oh! that,"he said, with an air of agreement," no doubt; but a man gets companionship, plenty, in his club. He wants his wife to be sensible, certainly; and that is what I like in your course"— he looked at Mr. Cairns with expansiveness — a broad expression of patronizing approval: "You teach the useful I observe, rather than the ornamental — not classics, but science. For holidays, you give single days at intervals, as wanted to refresh the pupils, and not in a stretch, to the weariness of parents and considerable loss to the children. My dear sir, that is admirable! Moreover, you take the young ones to skate, or an excursion now and then, and are responsible for them on holidays as well as ordinary days. What a relief to parents! You are on the right track there! Why, my wife and I have never had a pleasant journey or outing alone together since our children were born! "This was said in the tone of a man with a grievance; then suddenly recovering cheerfulness: "But your hour for commencing the daily lessons is a late one: eleven o'clock, did you say?"

"For scholastic work,"[Mr. Cairns replied —"book learning, acquirements in literature, science, etc., eleven o'clock; but, previous to that there are lessons given all over the house in domestic labour and economic art.

Our children take part in the household work from the earliest possible age; and it belongs to our theory of education — I must ask you to study our formulated principles here" — offering a printed sheet, —"to place the essential duties of life in the foremost position. We spare no pains in the training of young eyes, ears and hands to the intelligent performance of domestic functions. This we regard as a necessary broad foundation for culture, extended knowledge, and general attainments."

"H'm— do you mean,"said Mr. Hunter, "you teach cooking before eleven? I should like my girls to learn that. Do you not admit your day scholars to these lessons ?"

"We assume that the home is the best place." "That is nonsense, my dear sir,"Mr. Hunter exclaimed; "you are wrong there. The generality of mothers teach their daughters nothing in these days. I don't say they are to blame; girl's won't have it! But look here, Mr. Cairns; raise your fees if you like; I am not the man to grudge the fair payment of labour"— the accent here was pompous; "only take Lotta and Blanche from ten o'clock, and teach them to make themselves generally useful. I'll do what I can to recommend your school." He took up his hat as though the arrangements were now completed. Walter, however, remarked with a grave and dignified air, "There is much for consideration before a final engagement is formed. Our primary object is to promote a worthy ideal of life, not to make money; and I fear,” with a smile, "our ideal differs very considerably from yours! Pray bring Mrs. Hunter during school hours, and examine for yourselves the working of our system. If your opinion continues favourable, we shall require the attendance of your daughters for a week previous to the Committee Meeting, which decides whether they are to be accepted as pupils or not."

Mrs. Hunter received, in fear and trembling, her husband's instructions to visit the school alone. His time was too valuable to expend more on a subject he looked on as comparatively trifling: besides, his mind was made up. — By the way, she must be cautious, circumspect. "These people, my dear, have their own ideas on education. They give no Bible-lessons — they leave that to mothers, and quite right too. They are particular what children they admit; but of course Blanche and Lotta will be gladly received, unless you offend them by some remark. We have really nothing to do with their opinions, Jessie. I am satisfied the education they give is excellent."

Opinions and education stood quite unrelated, in Mr. Hunter's generalization! Anything of the nature of figures, statistics, bears weight, to his mind, and is worthy of close observation; but opinions, if not immediately demonstrable in practical shape, are vague, intangible — of the nature of the "baseless fabric of a vision," though he would not have quoted Shakespeare to explain his views — these certainly need never affect the balance of decision in regard to a school for his daughters.

He gave no further thought to their education that day. How could he ? His energies were required for "business" which he considered of far wider significance. He went upon 'Change for an hour, and his sport there resulted in personal gain — an acquisition of wealth that in its nonrelation to production in any form is of no more general utility than plunder; he did honour to a national princeling at a Cake and Wine Banquet; he opened letters in his office, and directed clerks to reply to them; he dropped into his club for luncheon, scanned the journals and gossiped a little on politics and aristocratic scandal; he attended a Bank Meeting and pocketed a handsome fee, although no effort of brain, no mental labour was entailed; he spoke from the platform, at the annual meeting of an Orphan Asylum — spoke, with pathos, of he "miserable struggle for existence going on," and with pompous inflation of "the noble work we are doing amongst orphans;" he handed to the secretary his yearly subscription, precisely one third of the sum he had earned by his valuable presence for one hour at the Bank; and then slipped from the room to enjoy the peace and comfort of his luxurious home with a perfectly easy conscience.

Mr. Hunter believed that he, like the blacksmith of brawny arm, had all that day been administering telling blows, and by "something accomplished, something done," he had "earned his night's repose!"

Does my reader know the game of whist, gad the value of position there ? Is the game of life not similar? How comes it that some men have only to talk a little, to show themselves here and there, to be outwardly bland, inwardly unscrupulous, and lo! society upholds them, supports them, willingly, gratefully? They have position, and they know how to pose. Meanwhile the real workers toil on — ah! so wearily! Grifted natures, weighted with precious jewels of truth, are allowed to sink in the social scale, and everywhere rages a conflict that submerges the noblest fruits of Humanity, and brings to the surface the lowest, meanest forms!

Alas! for the wisdom of man! But at least he no longer blasphemes with the impious postulate of an All-wise Divine Creator, impotent to produce a better world; a juster, truer, nobler, happier society than this.

Mrs. Hunter timidly approached La Maison. At the entrance she found Lucy and George, the latter high up on a ladder, with hammer and nails, arranging a curtain as directed by the former, who hastily took of her housemaid-gloves, and conducted the stranger to the Visitors' Boom. There her bright voice struck Mrs. Hunter with pleasant surprise, as, glancing at her watch, she said softly, "In ten minutes exactly our children will all be in school. We do not begin till eleven. May I ask you to wait here ? My young carpenter must not be left to his own devices"— with a smile; "but I will return in less than ten minutes."

As, later, they passed by the corridor into the school, Mrs. Hunter boldly interrogated her guide: "Do you teach ? Are you not much too young ? And Lucy, with rippling cadence that suggested laughter, replied, "We all teach something — and we all learn as well — both the young and the old; Mrs. Ward even, though she is such an invalid. Oh! you must see her before you go. She wishes, I know, to hear all about your daughters; but h'sh! we must be silent now,"as she threw open the schoolroom door.

An attractive spectacle met Mrs. Hunter's gaze: a large room well heated, and ventilated; the floor bare and polished; a gas fire at each end burning brightly; and abundant light from high windows, out of which children cannot see. There are pictures and maps on the walls, benches with backs of various sizes, easy-chairs for teachers, footstools and portable tables, a general air of comfort, and, as Mrs. Hunter entered, the stillness of studious activity. At one end stood Mr. Cairns before a large blackboard with George and Harry Plimsoll, and his own child Esther beside him. A lesson in mental arithmetic was proceeding, and Lucy joined the group as soon as the visitor seated herself by Mrs. Ray's table.

Rose's group consisted of five. Percy Cairns was amongst them, and three of the children belonged to a lower social class. The table before her was covered with objects: a small globe stood by her side; a dictionary, paper, and pencil, were at hand. The little ones, ranged on the bench in front, were required every instant to rise quietly and deftly, come to the table, find and handle an object, describe it, ask questions concerning it, in some cases, point to its home on the globe, or write down its name, or look it up in the dictionary; but never did Rose, Mrs. Hunter observed, impart any knowledge of which any one of the little ones was already possessed. Rose wielded a marvellous power of unearthing from some hidden comer in a little child's brain the fact of which all were in search, and leading the entire group to rejoice at its discovery, and make its acquisition their own!

"We want them to learn," she said sotto voce to Mrs. Hunter, "how to teach themselves and others to think, and observe, and reason about things; to know what they do know, and where their knowledge ceases, and above all to use their knowledge altruistically." Mrs. Hunter felt puzzled by an unfamiliar word, but, true to the genius of her own upbringing, she feigned apprehension and courteous approval!

At this moment Percy came close to the two, and in an earnest stage whisper said, "Rose, do you know Lizzie Roper missed that nice voyage on Monday amongst all the islands in the Caribbean Sea? Her mother required her acknowledges the defects pointed out, he alters or destroys it, and tries again. But if not, the work is carefully preserved for his own criticism at a further stage of his development."

Whilst speaking thus, Rose had been leading Mrs. Hunter into the garden, where old Mr. Ray was weeding a pathway. She now introduced them and returned to the school.

Mr. Ray had a keen enjoyment in showing to a visitor the strong points of the communal agricultural industry, and discoursing on the aptitude of children for floriculture and other open-air labour. No cabbages in the district, he firmly believed, could compare with those grown at La Maison; and Mrs. Hunter presently found herself rejoicing with the genial old man that Lotta and Blanche would be fed, if they dined there, on home-grown potatoes! It was not a matter of thought, but of feeling, that some counterbalance to the drawback of dangerous opinions lay in the general soundness of their vegetables!

On re-entering the schoolroom she perceived that a re- construction of classes had occurred.

Mr. Cairns' fresh group embraced two of the artist's children and his own boy Percy. The latter, on her approach, signalled a welcome with a speaking glance of his eye, and volunteered in a whisper the information: "Papa is teaching us science." Mrs. Hunter did not benefit by the hint. To most minds, and certainly to hers, the word "science," so used, conveys little definite meaning. What she heard was, of atmospheric conditions, the nature of the air, sun's heat, etc.; of conservation of energy, of the mutual relations of light, sound, and so on.

Must Lotta and Blanche be taught this stuff, she thought. I never was taught it — and what is the use?

Besides, when will there be time for their music and dancing, their German and French ? The cloud of distrust that had lifted a little in the garden, settled down once more to depress her maternal heart. Is anything in nature more pathetic than the tender, timid fears of a mother, who tends to stand still in a rapidly moving age? Oh! the pangs she endures when her children press eagerly forward in vital streams of progress; her impotent efforts to hold them back; her confusion of mind; her bewailings over the breach, ever widening, between her own thought and feelings and those of her children — poor innocent, frightened mother birds!

All hail! to the good time, fest approaching, when evolution forces will no longer throw out of touch parental and filial natures; but all, in a deep, broad family life, itself progressive, will buoyantly advance with the tides of civilisation, and from first to last hold one another in a sacred, sympathetic embrace!

The dose of science that made poor Mrs. Hunter feel sick at heart was forgotten when Lucy appeared at her side and said,"Would you like now to come with me into the house and see Mrs. Ward and our baby?"

"Oh, yes!" she replied; and the moment the school was left behind, she eagerly asked,"Is music paid proper attention to here? My children should practise two hours every day."

"Indeed!" said Lucy; "then they have the gift. I am glad. My sister Rose has a great gift in music. I have none — to produce it I mean; but I can enjoy it now. It is delightful when Rose and Miss Jose and Esther play to us in the evenings, and Joe Ferrier sings. At home I hated music. Mother made us all learn —even the boys! Oh! such dreadful piano strumming went on all day, and one heard it all over the house! Here, it is good music only one hears, and at times when one is free to listen and enjoy.

"Practicing is done in this room." She softly opened the double doors, and allowed Mrs. Hunter to look in. Esther and Vera were at the piano; a music lesson was going on. Mrs. Hunter felt comforted.

"The walls of this room," whispered Lucy, "are deafened, the piano is not heard outside; I never practise," she continued, as they pursued their way, glancing en route at the work-shop, the sewing-room, the library, the laboratory, and finally ascending the staircase."Our Education Committee decided that for me to go on learning music would be a mistake — a mere waste of
time. I am so glad; and it has made me love it instead of hating it. Now for our baby!" She flung open a door, revealing a large room, where instantly a beautiful girl turned round from a table and faced Lucy placing her finger to her lips."Is baby asleep ?"

"Yes" said Ruth," he has been naughty, the dear little man! I had to put him in prison, and he cried so long that now he sleeps soundly, from pure fatigue."
 

A baby in prison! Mrs. Hunter was bewildered; she gazed with suspicion round the room and into Ruth's expressive face. No sign of dementia appeared there; but neither in the room was there sign of a cradle, where an infant could be asleep! Lucy came to the rescue. "A stranger will never guess, Ruth, where the dear little man is hidden!" On tiptoe she advanced; Ms. Hunter following, to what appeared to the latter a tall, rather clumsy basket for soiled linen, which stood, strange to say, in a prominent position near the fireplace.

Behold! in its depths lay a cherub boy, attitude and breathing indicative of profound repose; one chubby arm flung over his head, the rounded cheeks flushed, the limbs half outstretched in soft curves, and wherever gravitation drew the tender flesh to the basket, there, were feathers and down to make it the softest of nests. Mrs. Hunter laughed gently and exclaimed, "What a Darling!" and Lucy responded, "Yes, isn't he a duck! But he is very willful, and he must be trained to obedience, you know; so he is often in prison, and cries himself to sleep; but it is so nice that we need never scold him; the dear little fellow has never once heard an angry word."

The child did not awake, and Mrs. Hunter turned with interest to Ruth, who stood at her table, cutting out small garments. "Excuse me continuing my work," she said politely to the stranger," our little one grows fast, and the children have asked leave to make his new clothes themselves. I promised to have them ready in the sewing-room today at half-past three."

"You all seem to claim the baby," Mrs. Hunter remarked. "You are not the mother, I fancy. Is his
own mother not jealous?"

Tears welled into Ruth's eyes and she hastily lowered them. It was Lucy who answered —"His own mother is dead, but indeed you are right: we all feel like mothers to him, don't we, Ruth?" And as they proceeded to Mrs. Ward's parlour —"Ruth has lost her mother, and seen such a lot of trouble! She is very sensitive, but we love her dearly, and hope she will soon be quite happy with us." She paused, rapped at a door, then entered, in response to a cheerful "Come in; "and meanwhile an old lady, seated with back to the intruders, was saying earnestly, "If only my Dick would marry and settle down at home! You are blessed indeed to have Vera and her husband with you always. How I envy you! It is dreadful for a mother to be bereft of her children — to be left all — —

The sentence broke off abruptly: Mrs. Ward on her couch, had stretched out her hand to a stranger, saying, "I am glad to see you. This is my friend, Mrs. Oswald."

For the next half-hour there was confidential talk about Lotta and Blanche. To inspire confidence and draw forth expression of secret care was a peculiar quality of Mrs. Ward's temperament. Mrs. Hunter yielded readily to the influence. Her conscientious desire to do the best for her children; her personal ignorance of true education; her doubts in regard to her husband's guidance; her approval of much she had seen in La Maison; her bewilderment concerning much; her childlike readiness nevertheless to risk all, and hand over Lotta and Blanche, if only they would use the shibboleth of her faith and say they were Christians; — all this was apparent to Mrs. Ward's intellect, and touching to her feelings.

A word here and there of delicate sympathy conveyed to Mrs. Hunter the impression that she was understood; and that alone is a marvelous solace to depressed humanity. Mrs. Ward was scrupulous not to imply agreement — unanimity of sentiment or thought; yet her visitor took leave serene and cheerful, and on her way homewards pondered with inward delight some words Mrs. Ward had spoken. To her heart these words carried comfort, although to her mind they were vague, nay, obscure! "Religion," said Mrs. Ward, "will never die out of the world, I feel sure of that. It is dogma — theological dogma the age rejects I We want the young generation to beat out its creeds for itself, but we will inspire it from day to day with vital, practical religion. Our children's Ideals will be noble! worthy! and their young lives they will make conformable."

On the Monday following Mrs. Hunter's visit, Lotta and Blanche were under the roof of La Maison in a state of suppressed excitement; the change of school was a momentous novelty to them.

On Saturday of the same week General Council was called, to hear the report of the Education Committee on the new scholars, and decide the question of their admission.

"In reference," Walter Cairns began,"to our great aim of moulding humanity to a superior type by a modem system of training, these children do not promise much. The father is an unmitigated Philistine (I use the term in Matthew Arnold's sense — I think you understand ?); the mother is a gentle, timid, pious woman; ignorant, and, I fear, narrow. The elder girl is already too old to alter fundamentally under the play of new external forces, and in her the father's nature predominates: but the younger? Blanche, is of finer material; a more hopeful subject in every way. She has a sweet, affectionate disposition, and I think her intellect — I mean her powers of reasoning, — although as yet not active, are superior to her mother's.

"She is only ten. She has lived, I fancy, in sensations and emotions — a simple child-like existence — the intellect latent; for, clearly, the vulgar ideas and instincts that Lotta exhibits, have no hold upon her."

Mr. Spiers and Rose followed with remarks that showed the newcomers had been closely observed and studied.

After Rose, Frank, her husband, had a word to say. "These vulgar ideas of Lotta's may prove a grave danger to us. Is this not so ? We are pledged to the principle of no coercion, no punishment. Our children, at present, are mentally wholesome and sweet: but a little leaven — bad leaven in this case — might leaven the lump."

"Oh! Frank! you are two biological," cried Margaret, with a sparkling eye, significant for the moment of her high-bred warrior ancestors preparing for combat and conquest, "such a figure as that misleads! And if vulgar ideas were germs they must find a habitat — a soil to take hold in! But vulgar ideas are forces, nothing more. We shall overbear them with forces that are strong and good I and that without friction, without coercion! False ideas are subdued by the true. We simply ignore all vulgarity." On the side of admitting the children, and trusting that Blanche would develop favourably in the school, and Lotta do it no harm, Mrs. Ward and others spoke briefly, and the vote taken later decided the matter thus: but on leaving the council chamber, Frank and Margaret returned to the charge on the subject of biological analogies!

They withdrew together to the Conversation Room, and there exercised dialectical skill in an animated, brilliant debate.