CHAPTER XII.
GOOD TRAINING.
Dickens wrote much less about good training than about bad training. Itwas the part of a true philosopher and a profound student of human natureto do so. Pictures of wrong treatment of children accomplished a doublepurpose. They made men hate the wrong, and made them more clearlyconscious of the right than pictures of the right alone could have done.Descriptions of ideal conditions can not make as deep impressions asdescriptions of utterly bad conditions in the present stage of humanevolution.
His revelation of cruel tyranny, of will breaking, of cramming, ofdwarfing of individuality, of distorting of imagination, of harshness, oflack of sympathy, of evil in a hundred hideous forms, made men moreconscious of their corresponding opposites than attempts to reveal theseopposites by direct effort could have done; and in addition it stirred inhuman hearts everywhere the determination to remove or remedy the wrong.
Little Nell's grandfather gave her a good training. Omitting poverty andloneliness, and some strange companionships, she had a training calculatedto make her the supremely pure and attractive child she was. Hergrandfather loved her passionately; he had never been unkind to her, hehad taught her carefully in the virtues that are learned by the unselfishperformance of duty; she had the opportunity for simple, loving service,and she was trained to have profound reverence for and true faith in God.
Her grandfather left her alone every night, yet she was never afraid.Dickens describes their usual parting in the evening.
Then she ran to the old man, who folded her in his arms and bade God bless her.
"Sleep soundly, Nell," he said in a low voice, "and angels guard thy bed! Do not forget thy prayers, my sweet."
"No, indeed," answered the child fervently, "they make me feel so happy!"
"That's well; I know they do; they should," said the old man. "Bless thee a hundred times! Early in the morning I shall be home."
"You'll not ring twice," returned the child. "The bell wakes me, even in the middle of a dream."
The Toodle family is painted in direct contrast to the Dombey family inthe relationship of parents to children. Mrs. Toodle came to nurse PaulDombey when his mother died. Mr. Toodle himself came too, and Mr. Dombeycalled him in to speak to him.
He was a strong, loose, round-shouldered, shuffling, shaggy fellow, on whom his clothes sat negligently; with a good deal of hair and whisker, deepened in its natural tint, perhaps, by smoke and coal-dust; hard knotty hands; and a square forehead, as coarse in grain as the bark of an oak. A thorough contrast in all respects to Mr. Dombey, who was one of those close-shaved, close-cut moneyed gentlemen who are glossy and crisp like new bank notes, and who seem to be artificially braced and tightened as by the stimulating action of golden shower baths.
"You have a son, I believe?" said Mr. Dombey.
"Four on 'em, sir. Four hims and a her. All alive!"
"Why, it's as much as you can afford to keep them!" said Mr. Dombey.
"I couldn't hardly afford but one thing in the world less, sir."
"What is that?"
"To lose 'em, sir."
"Can you read?" asked Mr. Dombey.
"Why, not partick'ler, sir."
"Write?"
"With chalk, sir?"
"With anything?"
"I could make shift to chalk a little bit, I think, if I was put to it," said Toodle, after some reflection.
"And yet," said Mr. Dombey, "you are two or three and thirty, I suppose?"
"Thereabout, I suppose, sir," answered Toodle, after more reflection.
"Then why don't you learn?" asked Mr. Dombey.
"So I'm agoing to, sir. One of my little boys is agoing to learn me, when he's old enough, and been to school himself."
What a beautiful picture of the true relationship that should existbetween a mother and her children is given in the reception to Mrs. Toodlewhen she went home to visit her family!
"Why, Polly!" cried her sister. "You! what a turn you _have_ given me! who'd have thought it! come along in, Polly! How well you do look, to be sure! The children will go half wild to see you, Polly, that they will."
That they did, if one might judge from the noise they made, and the way in which they dashed at Polly and dragged her to a low chair in the chimney corner, where her own honest apple face became immediately the centre of a bunch of smaller pippins, all laying their rosy cheeks close to it, and all evidently the growth of the same tree. As to Polly, she was full as noisy and vehement as the children; and it was not until she was quite out of breath, and her hair was hanging all about her flushed face, and her new christening attire was very much dishevelled, that any pause took place in the confusion. Even then, the smallest Toodle but one remained in her lap, holding on tight with both arms round her neck; while the smallest Toodle but two mounted on the back of the chair, and made desperate efforts, with one leg in the air, to kiss her round the corner.
Unfortunately the eldest Toodle, nicknamed Biler, was sent to thegrinders' school by Mr. Dombey, and he was so badly treated that he playedtruant and got into bad company; but his mother clung to him and treatedhim kindly, and hoped for him still. Mr. Carker went home with Biler tosatisfy himself in regard to his family.
"This fellow," said Mr. Carker to Polly, giving him a gentle shake, "is your son, eh, ma'am?"
"Yes, sir," sobbed Polly, with a courtesy; "yes, sir."
"A bad son, I am afraid?" said Mr. Carker.
"Never a bad son to me, sir," returned Polly.
"To whom, then?" demanded Mr. Carker.
"He has been a little wild, sir," replied Polly, checking the baby, who was making convulsive efforts with his arms and legs to launch himself on Biler, through the ambient air, "and has gone with wrong companions; but I hope he has seen the misery of that, sir, and will do well again."
When Mr. Carker had concluded his visit, as he made his way among the crowding children to the door, Rob retreated on his mother, and took her and the baby in the same repentant hug.
"I'll try hard, dear mother, now. Upon my soul I will!" said Rob.
"Oh, do, my dear boy! I am sure you will, for our sakes and your own!" cried Polly, kissing him. "But you're coming back to speak to me, when you have seen the gentleman away?"
"I don't know, mother." Rob hesitated, and looked down. "Father--when's he coming home?"
"Not till two o'clock to-morrow morning."
"I'll come back, mother, dear!" cried Rob. And passing through the shrill cry of his brothers and sisters in reception of this promise, he followed Mr. Carker out.
"What!" said Mr. Carker, who had heard this. "You have a bad father, have you?"
"No, sir!" returned Rob, amazed. "There ain't a better nor a kinder father going than mine is."
"Why don't you want to see him, then?" asked his patron.
"There's such a difference between a father and a mother, sir," said Rob, after faltering for a moment. "He couldn't hardly believe yet that I was going to do better--though I know he'd try to; but a mother--_she_ always believes what's good, sir; at least I know my mother does, God bless her!"
It was not the fault of his home that Biler went astray.
Nor did Dickens fail to give a picture for the fathers too. Mr. Toodle wasa workman on a train, and great was the joy in the family when father camehome.
"Polly, my gal," said Mr. Toodle, with a young Toodle on each knee and two more making tea for him, and plenty more scattered about--Mr. Toodle was never out of children, but always kept a good supply on hand--"you ain't seen our Biler lately, have you?"
"No," replied Polly, "but he's almost certain to look in to-night. It's his right evening, and he's very regular."
"I suppose," said Mr. Toodle, relishing his meal infinitely, "as our Biler is a-doin' now about as well as a boy _can_ do, eh, Polly?"
"Oh! he's a-doing beautiful!" responded Polly.
"He ain't got to be at all secretlike--has he, Polly?" inquired Mr. Toodle.
"No!" said Mrs. Toodle plumply.
"I'm glad he ain't got to be at all secretlike, Polly," observed Mr. Toodle in his slow and measured way, and shovelling in his bread and butter with a clasp knife, as if he were stoking himself, "because that don't look well; do it, Polly?"
"Why, of course, it don't, father. How can you ask?"
"You see, my boys and gals," said Mr. Toodle, looking round upon his family, "wotever you're up to in a honest way, it's my opinion as you can't do better than be open. If you find yourselves in cuttings or in tunnels, don't you play no secret games. Keep your whistles going, and let's know where you are."
The rising Toodles set up a shrill murmur, expressive of their resolution to profit by the paternal advice.
"But what makes you say this along of Rob, father?" asked his wife anxiously.
"Polly, old 'ooman," said Mr. Toodle, "I don't know as I said it partickler along o' Rob, I'm sure. I starts light with Rob only; I comes to a branch; I takes on what I finds there; and a whole train of ideas gets coupled on to him afore I knows where I am, or where they comes from. What a Junction a man's thoughts is," said Mr. Toodle, "to be sure!"
This profound reflection Mr. Toodle washed down with a pint mug of tea, and proceeded to solidify with a great weight of bread and butter; charging his young daughters meanwhile to keep plenty of hot water in the pot, as he was uncommon dry, and should take the indefinite quantity of "a sight of mugs" before his thirst was appeased.
And as the jolly old fellow ate his supper he was surrounded by all hissmaller children, some on his knees, and others under his arms, and allgetting bites of bread and butter and sups of tea in turn, although theyhad had their own supper before he came home.
Dickens did not wish to teach that such relationships should exist betweenparents and children in the homes of the labouring classes only. He usedToodle and his family as representing one extreme of society, as atpresent constituted, in sharp contrast with Mr. Dombey's family at theother extreme. How happy the one home with barely enough to secure thenecessaries of life! how miserable the other with unlimited wealth! Andthe best things in the Toodle home were the children, and the love andunconventional freedom between them and their parents. With such a feelingof community and love in all homes, and with schools of a propercharacter, the children will be trained for higher, and progressivelyadvancing manhood and womanhood.
David Copperfield's training was not all coercive and degrading. Beforethe Murdstones came to blight his young life he had joy and sympathy tostimulate all that was good in him. His mother and Peggotty were kind andtrue. The three had perfect faith in each other. They formed a blessedunity. "The memory of his lessons in those happy days recalled no feelingof disgust or reluctance. On the contrary, he seemed to have walked alonga path of flowers, and to have been cheered by the gentleness of hismother's voice and manner all the way."
Again, after the Murdstone interval of terror and cruelty, David waskindly treated and well trained by his aunt. Her relationship toward himthroughout his whole youth is well presented in her parting words, as sheleft him at Mr. Wickfield's house, where he was to live while at DoctorStrong's school.
She told me that everything would be arranged for me by Mr. Wickfield, and that I should want for nothing, and gave me the kindest words and the best advice.
"Trot," said my aunt in conclusion, "be a credit to yourself, to me, and Mr. Dick, and Heaven be with you!"
I was greatly overcome, and could only thank her again and again, and send my love to Mr. Dick.
"Never," said my aunt, "be mean in anything; never be false; never be cruel. Avoid these three vices, Trot, and I can always be hopeful of you."
In Mr. Wickfield's home and in Doctor Strong's school he had idealconditions of development. He received respectful consideration, fatherlyinterest, wise counsel, and generous hospitality from Mr. Wickfield. WithAgnes he had the most delightful relationship of sympathetic andstimulating friendship. There is no better influence in the life of a boyopening into young manhood than the true friendship of a girl of thecharacter of Agnes.
In Doctor Strong's school David met with the best conditions of goodtraining yet revealed by the "new education."
The boys were taught politeness, courtesy, and consideration for thefeelings of others in Doctor Strong's school.
About five-and-twenty boys were studiously engaged at their books when we went in, but they rose to give the Doctor good morning, and remained standing when they saw Mr. Wickfield and me.
"A new boy, young gentlemen," said the Doctor; "Trotwood Copperfield."
One Adams, who was the head boy, then stepped out of his place and welcomed me. He looked like a young clergyman, in his white cravat, but he was very affable and good-humoured; and he showed me my place, and presented me to the masters in a gentlemanly way that would have put me at my ease if anything could.
Physical education received due attention at Doctor Strong's school. "Wehad noble games out of doors." These outdoor sports have done more thananything else to develop the strength and energy of the British character.Thoughtful educators everywhere recognise the value of play in thedevelopment of the physical, the intellectual, and the spiritual nature astaught by Froebel. The love of play has been one of the distinctiveelements of the British people.
Doctor Strong's personal influence was good. "He was the idol of the wholeschool." He was not coercive nor restrictive; he was an inspiration toeffort and to manliness of conduct. "He was the kindest of men," full ofsympathy with boyhood and with individual boys. "He had a simple faith inhim that might have touched the stone hearts of the very urns upon thewall." Mr. Wickfield told David that he feared some of the boys might takeadvantage of his kindness and faith, but boys do not abuse the confidenceof such teachers. "He appealed in everything to the honour and good faithof the boys, and avowed his intention to rely on the possession of thesequalities unless they proved themselves unworthy." David says this "workedwonders." He had no spies in schoolroom or grounds. He trusted his boys ina frank, unconventional way, and they proved themselves worthy of trust.In such an atmosphere a boy grows to be reliable. He does not need to behypocritical or false. "The boys all became warmly attached to theschool--I am sure I did for one, and I never knew, in all my time, of anyother boy being otherwise--and learned with a good will, desiring to do itcredit."
They had independent self-activity. "We had plenty of liberty." Withoutthis no child can reach his best growth. The boys did not abuse theirprivilege. They respected themselves more because they had liberty. "As Iremember, we were well spoken of in the town, and rarely did any disgrace,by our appearance or manner, to the reputation of Doctor Strong and DoctorStrong's boys."
The community ideal was wrought into the lives of the boys by theirexperience in this model school. "We all felt that we had a part in themanagement of the place, and in sustaining its character and dignity." Thehighest work of schools, colleges, and universities is to fill the livesof men and women with the apperceptive centres of the community ideal.Christian community can not be made clear by books or teaching or sermonsunless its foundations are laid by experience, by "sharing in themanagement" of the conditions of the life of the boy, or girl, or student.Froebel pleaded for a college and university education in which studentsshould "share in the management." Dickens applied this high ideal.
There is another most important element in Doctor Strong's influence. Hewas not "a human barrel organ," like Mr. Feeder, "playing a little list ofGreek and Latin tunes over and over again without any variation." He wasan original in
vestigator. He was preparing a dictionary of Greek roots. Hewas not merely an accumulator of knowledge as it had been prepared by someone else. He was not a mere canal through which knowledge slowly flowedthrough artificial channels, nor a marsh in which knowledge had becomeconfused and stagnant, nor a dead sea into which knowledge flowed, butfrom which there was no outlet. He was a fresh fountain from whichknowledge came clear and pure. So the boys gained knowledge readily fromhim, but, far beyond knowledge, they learned incidentally the habit ofwork, and were filled with the desire to add to the store of knowledge asa basis for the progressive evolution of humanity.
What a farce it is to say that Dickens was not conscious of the pedagogicvalue of his work. He had great facility in learning, but he was also ahard student. No one could have written so much and so wisely abouteducation unless he had studied carefully the thought of the most advancededucators.
David's aunt had the wisdom to try to develop in him the characteristicsof excellence that were lacking in his parents. This is a thought that isslowly making its way in the minds of educators.
"But what I want you to be, Trot," resumed my aunt--"I don't mean physically, but morally; you are very well physically--is a firm fellow. A fine firm fellow, with a will of your own. With resolution," said my aunt, shaking her cap at me, and clinching her hand. "With determination. With character, Trot--with strength of character that is not to be influenced, except on good reason, by anybody, or by anything. That's what I want you to be. That's what your father and mother might both have been, Heaven knows, and been the better for it."
I intimated that I hoped I should be what she described.
"That you may begin, in a small way, to have a reliance upon yourself, and to act for yourself," said my aunt, "I shall send you upon your trip alone."
In pursuance of my aunt's kind scheme, I was shortly afterward fitted out with a handsome purse of money and a portmanteau, and tenderly dismissed upon my expedition. At parting, my aunt gave me some good advice and a good many kisses; and said that as her object was that I should look about me, and should think a little, she would recommend me to stay a few days in London, if I liked it, either on my way down into Suffolk, or in coming back. In a word, I was at liberty to do as I would for three weeks or a month; and no other conditions were imposed upon my freedom than the before-mentioned thinking and looking about me, and a pledge to write three times a week and faithfully report myself.
Betsy Trotwood may safely be taken as a model in dealing with boys duringthe adolescent period, and with young men just about to start in the realwork of life.
Dickens puts into the words of David Copperfield a statement of theelements of character which he regarded as most essential to success inlife, and which he would take pains to develop by the training in homesand schools.
I will only add to what I have already written of my perseverance at this time of my life, and of a patient and continuous energy which then began to be matured within me, and which I know to be the strong part of my character, if it have any strength at all, that there, on looking back, I find the source of my success. I have been very fortunate in worldly matters; many men have worked much harder, and not succeeded half so well; but I never could have done what I have done without the habits of punctuality, order, and diligence, without the determination to concentrate myself on one object at a time, no matter how quickly its successor should come upon its heels, which I then formed. My meaning simply is, that whatever I have tried to do in life, I have tried with all my heart to do well; that whatever I have devoted myself to, I have devoted myself to completely; that, in great aims and in small, I have always been thoroughly in earnest. I have never believed it possible that any natural or improved ability can claim immunity from the companionship of the steady, plain, hard-working qualities, and hope to gain its end. There is no such thing as such fulfilment on this earth. Some happy talent, and some fortunate opportunity, may form the two sides of the ladder on which some men mount, but the rounds of that ladder must be made of stuff to stand wear and tear; and there is no substitute for thoroughgoing, ardent, and sincere earnestness. Never to put one hand to anything on which I could throw my whole self and never to affect depreciation of my work, whatever it was, I find, now, to have been my golden rules.
Bleak House, which is so rich in illustrations of bad training, containslittle direct teaching regarding the proper training of children.
The value of a doll in the training of a girl is shown in Esther's earlyexperience. The doll had a real personal relationship to her. She made ither confidant, and in various ways gave it a distinct personal standing.She could pour out to it the joys and sorrows of her heart more fully thanto any real person. The doll was an outlet for the pent-up emotions thatwere checked in their flow by the adults with whom she was associated. Adoll is more than a mere plaything to a child; or perhaps it would be moreexact to say play with a doll means much more than most people believe.Dickens was able to sympathize with even a little girl.
Esther says:
I can remember, when I was a very little girl indeed, I used to say to my doll, when we were alone together, "Now, Dolly, I am not clever, you know very well, and you must be patient with me, like a dear!" And so she used to sit propped up in a great armchair, with her beautiful complexion and rosy lips, staring at me--or not so much at me, I think, as at nothing--while I busily stitched away, and told her every one of my secrets.
My dear old doll! I was such a shy little thing that I seldom dared to open my lips, and never dared to open my heart, to anybody else. It almost makes me cry to think what a relief it used to be to me, when I came home from school of a day, to run upstairs to my room, and say "Oh you dear faithful Dolly, I knew you would be expecting me!" and then to sit down on the floor, leaning on the elbow of her great chair, and tell her all I had noticed since we parted. I had always rather a noticing way--not a quick way, oh, no!--a silent way of noticing what passed before me, and thinking I should like to understand it better. I have not by any means a quick understanding. When I love a person very tenderly indeed, it seems to brighten.
When on her lonely birthday she had been told by her godmother that ashadow hung over her life she says:
I went up to my room, and crept to bed, and laid my doll's cheek against mine wet with tears; and holding that solitary friend upon my bosom cried myself to sleep.
Dear, dear, to think how much time we passed alone together afterward, and how often I repeated to the doll the story of my birthday, and confided to her that I would try, as hard as ever I could, to repair the fault I had been born with (of which I confessedly felt guilty and yet innocent), and would strive as I grew up to be industrious, contented, and kind-hearted, and to do some good to some one, and win some love to myself if I could.
Mr. Jarndyce emphasized the opinion of David Copperfield when he gaveadvice to Richard Carstone:
"Trust in nothing but in Providence and your own efforts. Never separate the two, like the heathen wagoner. Constancy in love is a good thing; but it means nothing, and is nothing, without constancy in every kind of effort. If you had the abilities of all the great men, past and present, you could do nothing well without sincerely meaning it and setting about it. If you entertain the supposition that any real success, in great things or in small, ever was or could be, ever will or can be, wrested from fortune by fits and starts, leave that wrong idea here."
Mr. George gave Woolwich Bagnet kindly counsel regarding his duty to hismother:
"The time will come, my boy," pursues the trooper, "when this hair of your mother's will be gray, and this forehead all crossed and recrossed with wrinkles--and a fine old lady she'll be then. Take care, while you are young, that you can think in those days, '_I_
never whitened a hair of her dear head--_I_ never marked a sorrowful line in her face!' For of all the many things that you can think of when you are a man, you had better have _that_ by you, Woolwich!"
Mr. Meagles in Little Dorrit, good, kind Mr. Meagles, explained why LittleDorrit, amid all her trials and all her difficulties, had grown to be sotrue a woman, loved by so many people.
If she had constantly thought of herself, and settled with herself that everybody visited this place upon her, turned it against her, and cast it at her, she would have led an irritable and probably a useless existence. Yet I have heard tell, Tattycoram, that her young life has been one of active resignation, goodness, and noble service. Shall I tell you what I consider those eyes of hers that were here just now, to have always looked at, to get that expression?
"Yes, if you please, sir."
"Duty, Tattycoram. Begin it early, and do it well; and there is no antecedent to it, in any origin or station, that will tell against us with the Almighty, or with ourselves."
Although Mr. Pocket was not able to manage his own household and family,chiefly owing to the hopeless incompetence of Mrs. Pocket, he was anexcellent teacher, and knew how to treat his pupils. Pip found him a mostsatisfactory guide.
He advised my attending certain places in London for the acquisition of such mere rudiments as I wanted, and my investing him with the functions of explainer and director of all my studies. He hoped that with intelligent assistance I should meet with little to discourage me, and should soon be able to dispense with any aid but his. Through his way of saying this, and much more to similar purpose, he placed himself on confidential terms with me in an admirable manner: and I may state at once that he was always so zealous and honourable in fulfilling his compact with me that he made me zealous and honourable in fulfilling mine with him. If he had shown indifference as a master, I had no doubt I should have returned the compliment as a pupil; he gave me no such excuse, and each of us did the other justice.
In Our Mutual Friend Betty Higden and Mrs. Boffin are given as true typesof the proper spirit of adulthood toward childhood. Betty, poor as shewas, wept at the thought of parting from Johnny, and Mrs. Boffin said toher:
"If you trust the dear child to me he shall have the best of homes, the best of care, the best of education, the best of friends. Please God, I will be a true good mother to him!"
Jemmy Lirriper had an ideal training in many ways. He had freedom andlove, and his imagination and individuality were developed as fully asMrs. Lirriper and the Major could secure these desirable results. Hisboyish personality received respectful consideration. The Major's methodof revealing mathematical conceptions and processes, while it did notfully reveal Froebel's processes in reaching the same results (even thegreat mathematicians have been slow in doing that), was much in advance ofthe pedagogy of his time, and it shows the spirit in which Dickens wouldhave the child treated, and this is much more important than mathematics.
Mrs. Lirriper tells the story:
My dear, the system upon which the Major commenced, and, as I may say, perfected Jemmy's learning when he was so small that if the dear was on the other side of the table you had to look under it instead of over it to see him with his mother's own bright hair in beautiful curls, is a thing that ought to be known to the Throne and Lords and Commons, and then might obtain some promotion for the Major, which he well deserves, and would be none the worse for (speaking between friends, L. S. D-ically). When the Major first undertook his learning he says to me:
"I'm going, Madam," he says, "to make our child a Calculating Boy."
"Major," I says, "you terrify me, and may do the pet a permanent injury you would never forgive yourself."
"Madam," says the Major, "I would regret if this fine mind was not early cultivated. But mark me, Madam," says the Major, holding up his forefinger, "cultivated on a principle that will make it a delight."
"Major," I says, "I will be candid with you and tell you openly that if ever I find the dear child fall off in his appetite I shall know it is his calculations, and shall put a stop to them at two minutes' notice. Or if I find them mounting to his head," I says, "or striking anyways cold to his stomach or leading to anything approaching flabbiness in his legs, the result will be the same, but, Major, you are a clever man and have seen much, and you love the child and are his own godfather, and if you feel a confidence in trying, try."
"Spoken, Madam," says the Major, "like Emma Lirriper. All I have to ask, Madam, is that you will leave my godson and myself to make a week or two's preparations for surprising you, and that you will give leave to have up and down any small articles not actually in use that I may require from the kitchen."
"From the kitchen, Major!" I says, half feeling as if he had a mind to cook the child.
"From the kitchen," says the Major, and smiles and swells, and at the same time looks taller.
So I passed my word, and the Major and the dear boy were shut up together for half an hour at a time through a certain while, and never could I hear anything going on betwixt them but talking and laughing and Jemmy clapping his hands and screaming out numbers, so I says to myself "It has not harmed him yet," nor could I, on examining the dear find any signs of it anywhere about him, which was likewise a great relief. At last one day Jemmy brings me a card in joke in the Major's neat writing "The Messrs. Jemmy Jackman," for we had given him the Major's other name too, "request the honour of Mrs. Lirriper's company at the Jackman Institution in the front parlour this evening at five, military time, to witness a few slight feats of elementary arithmetic." And, if you'll believe me, there in the front parlour at five punctually to the moment was the Major behind the Pembroke table with both leaves up and a lot of things from the kitchen tidily set out on old newspapers spread atop of it, and there was the Mite stood up on a chair, with his rosy cheeks flushing and his eyes sparkling clusters of diamonds.
"Now, Gran," says he, "oo tit down and don't oo touch ler poople"--for he saw with every one of those diamonds of his that I was going to give him a squeeze.
"Very well, sir," I says, "I am obedient in this good company, I am sure." And I sits down in the easy-chair that was put for me, shaking my sides.
But picture my admiration when the Major, going on almost as quick as if he was conjuring, sets out all the articles he names, and says, "Three saucepans, an Italian iron, a hand bell, a toasting fork, a nutmeg grater, four potlids, a spice box, two egg cups, and a chopping board--how many?" and when that Mite instantly cries "Tifteen, tut down tive and carry ler 'topping board," and then claps his hands, draws up his legs, and dances on his chair!
My dear, with the same astonishing ease and correctness, him and the Major added up the tables, chairs, and sofy, the picters, fender and fire irons, their own selves, me and the cat, and the eyes in Miss Wozenham's head, and whenever the sum was done Young Roses and Diamonds claps his hands and draws up his legs and dances on his chair.
The pride of the Major! ("_Here's_ a mind, Ma'am!" he says to me behind his hand.)
Then he says aloud, "We now come to the next elementary rule--which is called----"
"Umtraction!" cries Jemmy.
"Right," says the Major. "We have here a toasting fork, a potato in its natural state, two potlids, one egg-cup, a wooden spoon, and two skewers, from which it is necessary, for commercial purposes, to subtract a sprat gridiron, a small pickle jar, two lemons, one pepper castor, a black-beetle trap, and a knob of the dresser drawer--what remains?"
"Toatin fork!" cries Jemmy.
"In numbers, how many?" says the Major.
"One!" cries Jemmy.
("_Here's_ a boy, Ma'am!" says the Major to me, beh
ind his hand.)
"We now approach the next elementary rule--which is entitled----"
"Tickleication," cries Jemmy.
"Correct," says the Major.
But, my dear, to relate to you in detail the way in which they multiplied fourteen sticks of firewood by two bits of ginger and a larding needle, or divided pretty well everything else there was on the table by the heater of the Italian iron and a chamber candlestick, and got a lemon over, would make my head spin round and round and round, as it did at the time. So I says, "If you'll excuse my addressing the chair, Professor Jackman, I think the period of the lecture has now arrived when it becomes necessary that I should take a good hug of this young scholar." Upon which Jemmy calls out from his station on the chair, "Gran, oo open oor arms and me'll make a 'pring into 'em." So I opened my arms to him, as I had opened my sorrowful heart when his poor young mother lay a-dying, and he had his jump and we had a good long hug together, and the Major, prouder than any peacock, says to me behind his hand, "You need not let him know it, Madam" (which I certainly need not, for the Major was quite audible), "but he is a boy!"
Doctor Marigold's training of the little deaf-mute girl and "OldCheeseman's" treatment of children are revelations of the mature ideals ofDickens regarding the proper attitude of adulthood toward childhood.
Dickens As an Educator Page 16