Bonds of Earth, The (19 page)

1839

I
T WAS EIGHTEEN
months since Nessa had left Cornwall to take up a teaching post in her uncle's London school and, although England's capital city was an exciting place to be, it had taken her a long time to adapt to city life.

During the first few months she had assisted an elderly and stern woman teacher in instructing the few girls who attended the school and who were taught separately from the boys. Although never having married herself, the teacher firmly believed that the most important thing for her pupils to learn was how to become a good wife and mother and master social skills in order to attract a suitable man to elevate them to this highly desirable state.

For Nessa, to whom learning had much wider implications, such strictures were frustrating, especially when she came across the occasional girl whose views on education matched her own and who possessed a thirst for knowledge that extended beyond a home, a husband and a family.

It had been thought that the elderly teacher was ailing and that Nessa would take over from her soon after arriving in London but she seemed determined to continue teaching until senility deprived her of the ability to communicate with her young pupils. Because of her past loyalty, Cedric Couch was reluctant to retire her.

Aware of Nessa's increasing frustration, in January of 1839, her uncle called her to his study in the large house that was both school and home. Inviting her to take a seat across the desk from him he leaned back in his chair and said, ‘I understand from Miss Brooks that you are not entirely happy with the breadth of the teaching given to our young ladies?'

Miss Brooks had been teaching at Cedric Couch's school since it first opened and enjoyed the full confidence of its headmaster. Because of this, Nessa made a cautious reply. ‘There's nothing wrong with Miss Brooks's teaching methods for the majority of the girls, but she has little time for the occasional girl who is far more intelligent than the average pupil and who feels a need to learn more than how to become a good housewife.'

‘I am inclined to agree with you, Nessa, and it may surprise you to know that when my school first opened Miss Brooks sat where you are seated now and made a similar complaint to me.'

The statement took Nessa by surprise, but her uncle was still talking. ‘… I sympathized with her then, as I do with you now. Unfortunately it is the parents who pay their daughters' fees – sometimes with considerable reluctance. They feel education is advantageous only to their sons and we are forced to teach what is wanted by
them
.'

Nessa's inclination was to challenge her uncle's explanation, but she knew he was right. She had offered special tuition for one particularly bright girl who showed great promise in mathematics, only to have her mother threaten to remove her daughter from the school if Nessa continued to put ideas unbecoming of a young lady into her daughter's head.

‘I was unaware Miss Brooks shared my feelings,' Nessa confessed, ‘but it doesn't change anything. I enjoy teaching, but so much of what I want to teach is impossible when all the parents want is for their daughters to marry men who expect little more from their wives than to behave as well-bred servants. So much of my work and the girls' intelligence is being wasted!'

‘I have known for some time how you feel and am aware it's because you are a gifted and dedicated teacher. You
care
about what you are doing. For such a teacher there can be nothing more soul-destroying than feeling that his, or her, work is not being appreciated – but I can assure you it is not going unnoticed and it is not you who are at fault.'

Wondering why her uncle had called her to his study to express support for her, while at the same time declaring there was nothing that could be done to change their method of teaching, Nessa asked, ‘Are you trying to tell me in a kind way that you feel I'm not suitable to teach in
your
school, Uncle?'

‘Of course not, you are eminently suitable to teach anywhere. No, I asked you here because I have some
extra
duties in mind that I feel you might find rather more stimulating. I personally believe it to be most worthwhile but it poses a challenge that not all teachers are either willing or capable of accepting. I believe you are.'

Intrigued, Nessa waited for her uncle to explain further.

Leaning forward in his chair, he asked, ‘You have heard of what have become known as “ragged schools”?'

Nessa nodded. Ragged schools were free schools set up by philanthropic or religious bodies in the most deprived areas of British cities to provide education of widely differing standards to children who themselves had equally diverse views on what, if anything, they expected from life.

‘Good. I have a friend, Father Michael Jaye, a fellow Cornishman, who is vicar of one of the most deprived parishes in the whole of London. He has asked me if I will give my support to a school he has opened there. He recently moved premises to an empty furniture workshop in order to expand the school. When he opened his first school, critics said he would never have any pupils, yet children have been falling over themselves to enrol and he has needed to expand, but is in desperate need of more teachers. Mind you, the fact that he provides soup and bread once a day for all his pupils and wherever possible cleans them up and provides them with second-hand clothing may have
something
to do with the school's popularity, but he is highly gratified at what he feels is a most unexpected success. In general it's rather simple teaching – reading, writing and basic arithmetic, but he has said to me that if someone showed exceptional talent he would do all within his power to help them go further. It is an enormous challenge, Father Michael says so himself, but without something to lift them out of their squalor he fears the only way out is either prison or the gallows … a path taken by a great many who reside in the Old Nichol. However, given a basic education he is hoping he might be able to find sponsors to send them to countries like America or Canada in order to make a fresh start.'

Aware of Nessa's uncertainty about teaching basic skills in such an environment, Cedric Couch said, ‘Think about it overnight, Nessa. I promised Father Michael I would go to the Old Nichol tomorrow and see the school for myself. Come with me and we will see if there is anything we might do to help him.'

Leaving the wide streets flanked by tall well-kept houses far behind, the next day Nessa and her uncle, riding in a hackney-carriage, entered a part of London she had not seen before and could never have envisaged in her worst nightmare. There were no smart carriages drawn by well-groomed horses on the narrow streets here. Instead, most wheeled vehicles seemed to be handcarts of all descriptions and condition, being pushed or pulled by men, women or children whose dress was as varied as the carts.

The houses were small and dingy, seeming to lean in upon each other and in various states of disrepair. The people who occupied the streets and houses were different too. In the area of London around Kensington, where her uncle had his home and school, there
were
ill-dressed men, women and children, but they were few and far between. Here there were people who were actually clothed in what could only be described as ‘rags'.

They were entering an area known as the ‘Old Nichol' where there were no street cleaners, and roads and pavements – where the latter existed – were strewn with all manner of filth and litter.

The children they saw were in the main gaunt and thin, and Nessa thought that most of them had ‘haunted' expressions. As the carriage passed by they paused to give it hostile stares, as though it had no right to be there.

Reaching a junction, the hackney-carriage came to a halt in a tight turn and the driver said, ‘This is as far as I go, guv'nor. For Old Nichol Street you'll need to go up Boundary Road and you'll find it on your right – but if you've anything of value in your pockets I'd advise you to tuck it inside your shirt, and hide the lady's purse, or it'll be gone by the time you get there.'

Irritated, Cedric Couch said, ‘Can't you take us up the street a while further? Boundary Street looks wide enough for your carriage.'

Shaking his head, the carriage driver said, ‘Sorry, guv, but if I went up there they'd have the wheels off my carriage and my poor horse would be in a hundred cooking pots before I could get out of the Old Nichol.'

Still grumbling, Cedric Couch paid off the driver and turned to find half-a-dozen urchins crowding Nessa with hands held out and clamouring for pennies.

Nessa was unused to such behaviour and Cedric Couch hurried to her rescue. When there was space around her, he asked, ‘How do we get to Father Michael's school, in Old Nichol Street?'

The boys looked at each other before one of them, a boy of about fourteen years of age asked, ‘What do you want with Father Michael?'

Aware of her uncle's indignation at being questioned by this urchin and believing it would not be sensible to alienate anyone in the Old Nichol if she was to work here – not that she was at all certain she would
want
to – Nessa said quickly, ‘I might be teaching at Father Michael's school, but we need to find it first.'

The reply provoked immediate interest among the urchins and the boy who had questioned her uncle's reason for going to the school said, ‘I'll take you there, but it's going to cost you.'

‘Then we'll find our own way,' Cedric Couch snapped.

Ignoring her uncle's affronted response, Nessa asked, ‘How much do you want?'

‘I don't want your money, but there's been talk of Father Michael bringing in another teacher and starting up an extra class. If he does I want my sister Sally to be in it.'

‘Only your sister? Don't
you
want to learn how to read and write?'

‘Sally's the one who wants learning, I don't. Besides, I'm too busy getting money to feed the both of us, I ain't got no time to waste on things that don't matter to no one.'

‘Yet you're happy for Sally to be taught?'

Momentarily discomfited, the urchin said, ‘Our ma always wanted for Sally to get out of the Old Nichol and go into service with some rich family somewhere else. She wouldn't be able to do that unless she learns some of the things they'd expect her to know.'

‘Where's your mother now?'

‘She's been dead for nigh on three years, but …'

‘And your father?'

The boy's discomfort increasing, he said, ‘I dunno. Ma would never talk of him – or anyone related to him. There's some as said he was dead, others that he was sent to the hulks, but what's all that matter? If you won't take Sally into Father Michael's school I haven't got time to waste answering your questions.'

The young urchin and his companions were dirtier and more ragged than any child she had seen since coming to London and his dialect more extreme than any she had heard. He pronounced ‘th' as though it was an ‘f' and the letter ‘h' seemed not to exist. He also ran words together in a manner that was sometimes confusing, yet she found his obvious affection for his sister touching.

‘How old is Sally?'

He shrugged, ‘I dunno. She's about a year younger than me so I suppose she must be twelve, thirteen … or even fourteen. Whatever it is she's not too old to go to school.'

‘All right, I don't know for certain yet whether I
will
be teaching at Father Michael's school, but if I
do
start work there I'll take Sally into my class. Where do you live, so I can let you know?'

His delight disappeared at her question, but only for a few moments. ‘We live here and there, but don't you worry, there's not much goes on in the Old Nichol that I don't know about. I'll know soon enough if you come to work for Father Michael and Sally'll be there on your first day. Come on, I'll take you to the school….'

The Old Nichol ragged school's founder was a much younger man than she had been expecting. Probably not yet thirty, Father Michael Jaye was a dedicated priest who, although having a wealthy background, had given up a lucrative living in a rich Kensington parish in order to dedicate his life to caring for the needy in this, the worst of London's slums.

His popularity in the previous parish stood him in good stead here in the Old Nichol, there always being someone he could turn to when he was desperate for funds in order to advance his work.

When Nessa told him of her meeting with the street urchin who was brother to the as yet unknown Sally, he said, ‘That will be young Arthur Harrup, one of the Old Nichol's most hardened young criminals. He thinks the world of that sister of his and as far as I am concerned that is a saving grace for him – possibly his only one! He has tried before to have his sister taught in the school, but he so upset the teacher who was taking the younger children at the time that she refused to have Sally in her class. That teacher left us some months ago. Unfortunately, there have always been more pupils than we can cope with and it is only now I have larger premises that it is possible to bring in more children like Sally. I only wish it was possible to have Arthur enrolled as well, he has a quick mind. I feel that with proper guidance he could make something of himself.'

The compassionate parish priest raised his hands in a gesture of frustration, ‘But there, I can see potential in so many of the children. Sadly, all too few will ever be able to escape from the Old Nichol. I would very much welcome your presence here as a teacher, Miss Pyne and would be very happy to see Sally Harrup among your pupils.'

A
WEEK AFTER HER
first visit to the Old Nichol, Nessa returned there to take her first class in Father Michael's ragged school. It was to be a mixed class of boys and girls who would, nevertheless, be strictly segregated when in the classroom.

It was with some trepidation that Nessa alighted from the hackney-carriage which, as on her first visit to the Old Nichol took her only as far as the edge of the notorious slum.

She learned immediately that there was no cause for concern. Waiting for her were Arthur Harrup and a gang of his fellow urchins to escort her to the new premises of the ragged school, taking a short-cut through a maze of evil-smelling, litter-strewn alleyways.

In answer to her question concerning the whereabouts of his sister, Arthur replied that she would be at the school for her lessons.

‘How about you, why not come along too and see how you like it?'

She realized that she had probably made a mistake in putting the suggestion to him in the presence of the other urchins, it being immediately apparent that they awaited Arthur's reply with great interest. He was aware of it too.

‘School's all right for them as having nothing better to do. I've got Sally to look out for and things that need doing right here, in the Old Nichol.'

It was a reply that seemed to meet with the approval of Arthur's followers and Nessa asked him no more questions on the way to the ragged school with her urchin escort.

Father Michael greeted Nessa enthusiastically and took her along to introduce her to the class she was to teach. He would have remained with her but she wanted to assume authority in the classroom from the very beginning and insisted upon being left alone with the forty pupils she was to teach.

Her first command was to have all the windows opened, despite the protest of those seated closest to them that it was a cold morning. It was doubtful whether water had touched the skin of her pupils either that day or on many previous days and the air inside the room was fetid.

In response to the protests, Nessa replied, ‘It's far too stuffy to work in here with the windows closed, but it is quite chilly at the moment. Isn't that stove alight?'

There was a free-standing iron stove in the room and Nessa had thought she detected a glimmer of life in it when she entered the room. Checking it now she saw it contained a thin layer of faintly glowing embers, but if the coal was not replenished soon it would die and there was no fuel to be seen nearby.

‘Does anyone know where the coal is kept?'

She put the question to the class in general and there was a quick affirmative reply from a boy of about ten whose grimy hands looked as though they might have had a long acquaintance with the fuel in question.

‘Good, then go and find a bucket or something to carry it in and bring some coal back for the stove – and be quick, or it will be out.'

The boy turned to hurry away only to have his path blocked by an older boy. ‘No, I'll go, miss.'

Nessa was about to say that
she
would delegate any tasks that needed doing during school hours when the older boy explained, ‘If Micky went, by the time he got back here with a bucketful of coal he'd have twice as much hidden away to collect and sell after school. It's what he does best, nicking coal and selling it to them as can pay for it.'

The younger boy scowled at the speaker but made no attempt to deny the accusation and Nessa realized there was going to be a lot more to teaching these children than she had experienced at her uncle's Kensington school.

This was brought home to Nessa once again some minutes later when with the windows of the schoolroom open and a hopeful glow emanating from the open flap at the base of the coal-fuelled stove, she began making a register of those attending her class.

When she had recorded the last name she looked out over the class and frowned. ‘Sally Harrup was supposed to be here, has anyone seen her?'

A few of the girls looked at each and one of them tittered. Silencing the culprit with a stern look, Nessa said, ‘What do you know about her, why isn't she here?'

When the girl averted her glance and gave no reply, Nessa said firmly, ‘When you are in my class and I ask a question I expect a reply. If you want to remain at school you had better remember that. Now, where is Sally Harrup?'

Realizing that Nessa was serious, the girl said, ‘She's got nothing to wear, miss.'

‘What do you mean, she has nothing to wear? No one expects her to dress up to come to school.'

‘No, I mean she has
nothing
to wear. Her brother, Arthur, got her a dress to wear today – a
really
good dress – although it was a lot too big for her. Anyway, on her way here she met one of the women who hangs around the pub along the road and who'd been drinking all night. She liked the dress and offered Sally a whole shilling for it – so Sally sold it to her, there and then, and was left with nothing to come to school in.'

The explanation brought a number of amused and knowing smiles from the others in the class and Nessa decided she would take the matter no further. However it did not end there and then.

Her first lesson at the Old Nichol ragged school was no more than an hour old when Arthur Harrup entered the schoolroom unannounced and without so much as a knock on the door. The young, scowling girl with him looked as though the frock she was wearing had come from a ragman's barrow, which in all probability it had. Pushing her unceremoniously into the classroom, Arthur said, ‘I've brought Sally here for you to give her some learning!'

With this blunt statement he turned to go but, recovering from her initial surprise, Nessa said, ‘Just a minute! If Sally wants to attend my classes she'll need to arrive on time, the same as all the others. I can't teach school if pupils are going to come and go as they please.'

‘She'd have been here in time if someone hadn't knocked her down and nicked the frock I got for her specially.'

One of the girls in the classroom sniggered but the sound ceased abruptly when Arthur glared around the room at the assembled urchins.

Saying nothing of what she had been told earlier, Nessa said, ‘Then she can find herself a seat – but I'll expect her to be the best timekeeper in my class from now on.'

‘She will be.' With this Arthur turned and left the class and, when Nessa had silenced the hubbub that erupted immediately after his departure, she made various pupils repeat what she had been telling the class prior to Arthur's interruption and when this was done she continued with the remainder of her lesson.

When lessons came to an end after a two hour session Nessa dismissed the class and they promptly stampeded off in order to claim the bowl of soup and hunk of bread that was the sole reason for the attendance of many of the Old Nichol urchins at the ragged school.

Sally Harrup was among them, but before she could escape, Nessa put out an arm to bring her to a halt and keep her behind. When all the others had left, Nessa looked at the girl who stood reluctantly before her. She saw an underweight, blue-eyed girl with long, lank brown hair who possessed fine features, but was so dirty and ill-clothed that all her finer points went largely unnoticed.

She stood fidgeting uneasily and looking down at her bare feet which were as dirty as the rest of her visible body. In spite of this, Nessa thought there was something indefinably appealing about the young waif. Speaking to her more gently than she had intended, she said, ‘Arthur said you had been attacked and had your dress stolen?'

‘That's right.' Sally's East London dialect was the equal of that of her brother.

‘That isn't true, is it?'

Sally's glance flicked up to Nessa's face before she looked down once more without making a reply.

‘You sold it for a shilling, I believe.'

‘Who told you that? It's not true.'

‘I think it is and I don't like pupils who lie to me, Sally, any more than I will tolerate pupils arriving late for my lessons and disrupting the whole class. It was despicable of you to sell a dress that Arthur must have worked hard to buy for you.'

Sally looked up again and said scornfully, ‘You wouldn't catch Arthur
buying
a dress, he don't pay for nothing.'

After a moment to gather her thoughts, Nessa decided she was more disappointed than shocked. Arthur was a product of the time and place in which he lived, his concern for his sister had temporarily blinded her to the fact, that was all.

‘All right, Sally, off you go and have your soup now. I'll see you in the morning – but don't be late.'