“The truth of the matter is this, Mr. Arundel,” began General Grant.
“From a mistaken policy your future pupil has been indulged in every
caprice of his weak intellect, till the slightest opposition to his
wishes irritates him beyond all control that has yet been exercised over
him; but as his only attendants are an old female domestic who was his
nurse, and her son, a lad younger than Sir Walter himself, whom he has
been foolishly permitted to look upon in the light of a companion, this
is not so much to be wondered at.”
“It will be a difficult task to eradicate faults of temper which
have been allowed to become habitual, especially where the reasoning
faculties are defective,” observed Lewis thoughtfully.
“You may well say that, sir,” chimed in Miss Livingstone. “His reasoning
faculties (as you please to term them) are so _defective_, that in my
humble opinion the boy is neither more nor less than a fool; and you may
as well try to drive a pig straight as to talk sense to a fool. But how
a man so particular as General Grant can have brought such an inmate
into his family, and then expect that things are to go on with the order
and precision that----”
“Madam!” began the General in a voice of thunder, his stock of patience
utterly exhausted by this indirect mode of attack. But Annie, with a
degree of tact and moral courage for which Lewis had by no means been
disposed to give her credit, laid her hand imploringly on her father’s
arm, and whispered a few magical words which served to avert the storm
that had appeared inevitable. An awkward pause ensued, which was broken
by the General, who, rising majestically from his chair, informed Lewis
that he should request his attendance in half-an-hour; then casting
a withering glance at Miss Livingstone, which caused that respectable
porcupine of private life to bristle up if possible more fiercely
than before, he quitted the room. No sooner had her nephew-in-law’s
retreating footsteps ceased to echo through the long corridor than the
good lady, freed from the restraint of his presence, did then and there
openly, avowedly, and with much vehemence, utter a declaration of war
to the knife with that gallant officer, issued a protest against the
introduction of “rampant idiots” into that heretofore peaceful family,
and finally assert her own liberty of action by promulgating her
determination to depart forthwith, leaving her companions to contemplate
the agreeable contingencies of “being frightened out of their wits every
day, and murdered in their beds all night.”
Having in some degree relieved her mind by this explosion, she applied
the superfluous steam still remaining to the purpose of locomotion, her
crisp schako rending the air, and her high-heeled shoes knocking sharp
little double knocks, as of an angry postman, against the polished oak
floor as she swept along.
And these “pleasant passages” were the first votive offering which Lewis
saw presented to the Lares and Penates of Broadhurst.
General Grant sat bolt upright in his easy-chair, as if he were on his
charger, and his face wore an expression of scrutinising authority, as
of a commander about to review his troops, when Lewis, in obedience to
his summons, entered the library.
“Take a chair, Mr. Arundel. I have desired the attendance of Sir Walter
Desborough, and expect he will be here immediately.”
In compliance with this request, Lewis seated himself to await the
arrival of his future pupil; but the minutes glided by, and still no
pupil appeared. At length, just as the General’s small stock of patience
became exhausted and he had begged Lewis to ring the bell, the butler
returned, saying that it was impossible to induce Sir Walter to leave
his room unless his female attendant might come with him. General Grant
frowned portentously, glanced expressively towards Lewis, muttering,
“Some of the evil effects of a grievous system of neglect,” then added,
to the servant, “You may desire Mrs. Peters to accompany Sir Walter
Desborough.”
“One of the first points to which you will have to direct your
attention, Mr. Arundel,” continued the General as the domestic quitted
the apartment, “is to induce my ward to dispense with the society of
this person and her son. He may retain their services as attendants, but
must be taught no longer to regard them as companions.”
As he spoke the door opened and admitted three individuals. Of these,
the first who claims our notice was the unfortunate young baronet who
was to be Lewis’s future charge. He appeared about fourteen, but was
tall for that age; his figure was slight and not ungraceful, and his
features were handsome; his forehead was high, but narrow and receding;
his eyes were bright and clear, though totally devoid of expression, and
there was an appearance of weakness and irresolution about the mouth,
which too clearly indicated his want of intellect. Mrs. Peters was a
very stout old lady, on whom the cares of life and a rare specimen
of the female costume of some bygone age appeared to sit easily; her
outline might have suggested to an imaginative beholder the idea of a
huge pillow which had “come alive” and made itself a gown out of one
of the chintz bed-curtains, forgetting the waist. Her conversation
was embellished by a redundancy of mild ejaculations, amongst which a
benediction on her own “heart alive,” and an apostrophe to a solitary
possessive pronoun which had lost its noun, and agreed with nothing in
particular, stood pre-eminent. Her stock of ideas, which was by no
means inconveniently large, had been presented to her in her youth, and
required altering to suit the present fashion. Still she was a good old
woman in her way; her “heart alive” was a very kind one; and she doated
on poor Walter, spoiling and indulging him till she had made even a
greater fool of him than nature had intended. The trio was completed
by her hopeful son Robert, or, as he was more familiarly termed,
Bob Peters, who, one year younger than Sir Walter, was as clever and
mischievous an imp as ever indued a page’s livery and bore a splendid
crop of buttons to fascinate society. Pressing close to his nurse’s side
and dragging the pretty page after him by the wrist, Walter entered the
alarming presence of his guardian and his tutor, hanging back like a
startled colt the moment he perceived a stranger.
“Walter, come here; I want to introduce you to this gentleman,”
exclaimed General Grant in the blandest tone he could command; but in
vain--Walter only hung his head and shrank closer to his protectress.
“Oh, my! Walter dearie, go to the General. Bless my heart alive,
you ain’t so silly as to be afraid of _him_,” exclaimed Mrs. Peters,
emphasising the _him_. as though it referred to a pet lamb or a tame
rabbit.
“Go in and win, Master Walter; the gentleman won’t bite yer,” suggested
Bob in an audible whisper.
But their remonstrances produced no effect upon Walter, and served only
to increase General Grant’s irritation.
“He must be taught obedience, sir,” he remarked quickly, appealing to
Lewis. “Nothing can be done until he becomes obedient;” then turning to
the old nurse, he continued, “Mrs. Peters, Sir Walter will not require
your attendance at present; you may leave the room, and take your son
with you.”
“I’m afeard, sir, you won’t be able to do nothing with Master Walter
without one of us stops with him. You see, he’s kind of used to us,”
urged Mrs. Peters.
“I shall feel obliged by your leaving the room, Mrs. Peters. When I
require your advice! will inform you of the fact,” returned the General,
walking with stately steps towards the door, which he held partially
open to permit the egress of the servants, while he prevented Walter
from following them.
As he saw his friends depart the boy raised his eyes, which gleamed with
mingled fear and anger, to General Grant’s face, but cold inflexibility
was written there so unmistakably that even the darkened perceptions
of the idiot could not fail to perceive it; and apparently feeling
instinctively that resistance would be unavailing, his countenance
assumed a sulky, dogged expression, and he suffered himself to be led to
a seat without opposition. But, despite this success, the General seemed
as far from gaining his point as ever; neither kindness nor coercion
could induce Walter to pay the slightest attention to the remarks
addressed to him, or to utter a single word. Any one, to have seen him
at that moment, would have imagined him to be hopelessly imbecile. That
such was not the case, however, Lewis, who without interfering openly
had been closely observing him from the moment of his entrance, felt
convinced. He had particularly watched the play of his features, and
had remarked when he first came in that they were characterised by an
expression of fear and shyness rather than of stupidity, and that it was
not until his guardian had banished those whom he knew well, and in whom
he had confidence, that they assumed the look of stolid sulkiness which
they now wore. After making several unsuccessful attempts to elicit from
his ward some proof of intelligence, General Grant at length quitted
the room in search of his daughter, actuated thereunto by a vague
consciousness that his own manner might possibly be deficient in
conciliatory power, and that Annie, from the fact of her belonging
to the softer sex, possessed a decided advantage over him in this
particular. Availing himself of this opportunity, Lewis caught up a
young kitten which was playing about the room, towards which he had
observed Walter cast several furtive glances; and caressing the little
animal as he held it in his arms, he approached his pupil, saying
quietly--
“I’m sure you like the kitten, Walter, she is so playful and pretty?”
The boy made no answer, but the sullen look in his face gradually gave
place to a milder expression, and he glanced from Lewis to the kitten
with an appearance of intelligence, for which any one who had seen him
a minute before would not have given him credit. Lewis saw that he had
touched the right string, and continued in the same kind and gentle
manner--
“We must make a great pet of the kitten. She will play with us and amuse
us nicely.”
As he said this Walter drew closer to him, and seeming, in his interest
about the kitten, to forget his fear of the stranger, held out his hands
for the little creature to be given to him.
“Will you be kind to her if I let you have her?” continued Lewis.
Walter nodded in token of assent, and Lewis handed him the kitten, which
he immediately began to fondle and play with, laughing with childish
glee at its gambols. After amusing himself in this manner for several
minutes he suddenly turned to Lewis and asked in a half-whisper--
“Do you like ponies, too?”
Delighted at this proof of the success of his attempt to win his pupil’s
confidence, Lewis signified his intense affection for ponies in general,
and inquired whether Walter possessed one. On receiving an affirmative
nod he continued--
“And are you very fond of riding it?”
This question seemed to perplex the boy, for he made no reply, and a
half-puzzled, vacant expression banished the gleam of intelligence which
had lighted up his features. Lewis repeated the inquiry in two or three
different forms, but with no better success. A pause ensued, during
which the young tutor pondered with himself the best means of calling
forth and strengthening the faint germs of intellect which evidently
existed in the clouded mind of the poor idiot, when Walter again looked
up and exclaimed abruptly--
“Bob says I’m to ride the pony when somebody comes to take care of me.”
“And I am that somebody,” returned Lewis, smiling good-naturedly. “You
shall ride the pony to-day if you like.”
This seemed to please him, for he nodded and laughed, and resumed his
gambols with the kitten. Suddenly a new idea appeared to strike him,
for his face became clouded, and drawing close to Lewis, he whispered,
pointing to the door by which General Grant had left the apartment--
“Don’t tell him, or he won’t let me go.”
“Why should you think so, Walter? That gentleman is your guardian, and
means to be very kind to you,” returned Lewis; but Walter shook his head
and repeated--
“Don’t tell him; he won’t let me go.”
At this moment the General returned, accompanied by Annie, whose
feelings of sympathy and pity were slightly tempered by the fears which
Miss Livingstone had laboured industriously to instil into her mind.
Lewis drew the General on one side and gave him an outline of all that
had passed during his absence, adding, that although it was of course
too soon for him to judge with any degree of accuracy to what extent
they might proceed, it was evident his pupil possessed some reasoning
powers which cultivation might develop. And he was going on to add that
harshness appeared to him likely rather to increase than diminish the
evil, when his attention was attracted by an exclamation of anger from
Walter.
The moment General Grant returned his ward had relapsed into his former
state of sullen apathy, and all Annie’s attempts to induce him to notice
her only appeared to increase his obstinacy, till at length she began
to stroke the kitten, which he still held in his arms. This, for some
unexplained cause (probably because he fancied she might be about to
injure his favourite, or to deprive him of it), irritated him
beyond control, and forgetting his fear in his anger, he uttered
the exclamation above alluded to, and struck at her fiercely with
a riding-whip which he had brought in with him. Springing forward,
however, before the blow could descend, Lewis caught his uplifted arm
and held it in an iron grasp, while in a grave but stern voice he said--
“Walter, I am surprised at you. Attempt to strike a lady! You must never
do such a thing again.”
The calm, impressive manner in which he uttered these words appeared to
produce a beneficial effect in subduing the boy’s irritation; for
after making one furious but unavailing attempt to free himself, he sat
perfectly still and unresisting. Nothing, however, could induce him to
make friends with Annie, or to allow her to touch his beloved kitten,
though when Lewis caressed it, and even took it in his arms, he appeared
well contented.
A fortnight’s careful study of the young baronet’s character only
served to confirm the impressions Lewis had received during this first
interview. That he possessed some powers of reasoning and reflection was
evident; but the great difficulty lay in finding a key to the workings
of his mind by aid of which these powers might be strengthened and
developed. Any direct question seemed to puzzle and confuse him, and the
only plan which appeared to offer any hope of success was, if possible,
to discover some train of thought (if the vague and desultory fancies
which flitted across his feeble brain deserved to be so called), and
then to lead him gently on by suggesting new ideas, some of which he
might adopt and retain. But it was an up-hill task; and often when
Lewis, with a degree of calm perseverance which in one of his eager and
impetuous disposition could scarcely have been looked for, had succeeded
in making him acquire, as he believed, a leading idea on which he hoped
to base some superstructure of elementary knowledge, a look of hopeless
vacuity would show that no progress had been made, and that the labour
must all be gone through again. At other times some shrewd remark or
pertinent question would take Lewis as it were by surprise, and induce
him to imagine that he had underrated his pupil’s mental capacity, and
that the fault must lie in his own inexperience of such cases. But there
was much to be unlearned as well as to be taught. As is often the case
in persons of weak intellect, the mere animal tendencies were unusually
strong. He was subject to violent bursts of passion, if his will were
in the slightest degree thwarted, which it required all Lewis’s firmness
and strength of character to contend against successfully. Occasionally
fits of melancholy would seize him, during which he would sit for hours
without speaking, his head resting dejectedly on his hand, and nothing
appearing able to interest or amuse him. If not prevented, he would eat
so voraciously as to injure his health. He was also indolent and averse
to active exertion of any kind. But Lewis took much pains to teach him
to ride, and the exercise thus obtained tended greatly to strengthen
his constitution. His fondness for animals was one of the most amiable
points in his disposition. He and Faust ere long became inseparable, and
Lewis found the dog a most useful auxiliary in inculcating--by example,
not precept, for Faust could not _quite_ talk--the necessity of implicit
obedience.
A month soon glided by, and at its expiration Lewis informed General
Grant that if he still wished him to undertake the care of his ward he
was willing to do so; an offer of which that noble commander joyfully
availed himself, being in his secret soul equally surprised and pleased
at the degree of success which had already attended Lewis’s efforts, and
only too glad to secure the services of one who could and would save
him all further difficulty in regard to the onerous and troublesome
responsibility which he had taken upon himself. For the next six months
of his residence at Broadhurst Lewis saw but little of the family.
During the greater part of that time the General was absent on a visit
to some relations in Scotland, whither his daughter accompanied him.
Miss Livingstone, having supplied herself with a resident victim in the
person of Miss Susan Pinner, an unhappy little fourteen-year-old cousin
once removed (the further the better from such a relative, we should
imagine), spent her time very much to her own satisfaction in daily
offering up the helpless sacrifice thus acquired at the altar of her
evil temper, and in tyrannising over the poor of the neighbourhood with
most excruciating benevolence. A sick family was a rare treat to this
venerable scourge. Nauseous were the medicines she forced down the
throats of the destitute, aggravating the directions with which she
tortured the suffering, hateful the dietary on which she nourished all
sick persons and young children! Truly an irritating poor man’s plaster
was that sphinx of modern society, Minerva Livingstone, and Odipus
himself would never have guessed at one-half her modes of ingeniously
tormenting indigent merit. Fortunately, working out the details of this
ferocious philanthropy occupied so much of the good lady’s time that
Lewis enjoyed a happy immunity from her attentions, and was allowed to
put in practice his theories for the improvement of his pupil without
let or hindrance; and it was with a degree of pleasure, which was in
itself sufficient reward for his trouble, that he perceived his plans
likely to succeed beyond his most sanguine expectations. Affairs were in
this position when--but such an interesting disclosure requires a fresh
chapter.