A. N. Dedeaux - An English Education

by P. N. Dedeaux

  During this initiatory period we were fitted for our clothes, and about these a word should be said. For it was bizarre in the extreme. The general uniform was of a sensible grey worsted, being a tunic that fitted closely to the waist, with open surplice neck and short sleeves. We wore no pinafores. Now I had gone short-skirted at Gateshead but this one-piece Grecian garment scarce covered at all, below. What passed for a skirt had better have been called a softly flaring bib. We four crimsoned when we realized this was all we were to wear, but for tautly tethered stockings, below the waist. There was a leathern belt.

  The skirt, if such it might be called, was not allowed to do more than just cover the behind, and when we walked this derisory morsel of material did not even perform that office. Indeed, among the great girls, or Majors, it was something of a fashion when I was at Lowood even to further shorten the hems, so that the skirt lay on the shelf of the crupper exposing the plumply knickered undercurves. It was a sort of brazen pout of the buttock base, all the more tauntingly on display when there were some weals to show. But woe to any Minnie who shortened to this extent.

  Lowood girls wore inky steeple heels, going over on which was punishable. They made striding impossible. Short mincing steps were the most practical. Our stockings were coal-hued, drum-taut, and very high, being secured with satin garters of the knicker color I shall describe below, the school emblem on a clasp facing out at each thigh. The first garment we put on each morning was a short black corset of stiffly boned black leather. We fastened each other into these and the girl who laced was thrashed alongside the culprit whose corset was not tight enough. Any loosening of laces was of course frowned upon and would instantly result in a tingling sensation in the fatty portions of one's anatomy. There were times when I scarcely seemed able to breathe my first quarter at Lowood. I was a solid cylinder from rib-cage to rump, creaked when I walked, bent precariously, toppled when I curtseyed, and turned slowly, like a tube.

  The busk in front was short but mercilessly stiff, and curved inwards, so that the rump was arched back. So stiff was one above that one became peculiarly conscious of this part of the body, as it rolled in motion, in what was called the typical Lowood walk. One was not intended, in Miss Temple's words, to throw oneself about like a prostitute. There were times those first days when I felt all rump.

  Ten white bone buttons were affixed to the fore of those corsets, and ten to the back. To these were attached—oh cherished possessions (and daily changed)—one's knickers. These were of exquisitely fine cambric stuff of a silky feel and varied in color: Minnies wore the palest shade of rose, Minors of blue, Majors of clear transparent white, through which their buttocks bloomed. How envious one soon became of these pale shades of glory, with their matching garters, to say nothing of the satin ribbon tightening their base. It was as if one passed through gradations of glory, from the pale human soul to brighten to the seraph! How the great girls flaunted theirs, tossing a leg up on a bench or leaning forward by a fire to show their seniority, and rank. To say these knickers were skin-tight would be an understatement. They were absolutely one's skin, and entirely but only covered the swelling cheeks. The sulcus was not shown, except at the side of the thigh of some especially fatted girl. The "leg" ribbons were taut and tailoring and tension were such that the cleft of the cheeks was completely followed. They made the buttocks stand out separately, in fact, firming and ripening their surfaces for the juicy cuts of the rod. These could indeed be clearly seen through the thinly textured covering.

  Dress is important to a girl and anyone who knows a girl's growing mind can picture the dismay with which we four greeted the undergarment to be worn by new girls, until graduation into the Minimus class. Our knickers were of drab navy blue and made of common thin cotton. What is more they extended somewhat down the thigh, thus by their constant visibility making our lowly status a public spectacle. They had no ribbons.

  We were hoisted into these one by one. Indeed, the term for our state from now on was "New-knicks." Mine would scarcely pass over my bursting buttocks, thin as they were. One girl got a new pair and was obliged to scour the back parts with a pumice stone in order to make the stuff sufficiently threadbare, to provide no protection for her person.

  "There," said the grinning maid as she helped me to fasten the buttons of the corset through the holes, "all ready for a whipping. And you'll be needing a larger size after some of the canings you'll get here."

  How to bend? How even to sit? We were told that splitting these drawers by a brusque or unruly motion might bring on a flogging, but that to have them split under one was almost a good mark. I never saw a pair so split up at Lowood nor elsewhere. We four soon caught the trick of slightly dampening them in the morning against such an eventuality, though learning that this made them cling even more and, in the opinion of one lovely authority, made the cane sting more.

  I should lastly explain that Prefects or monitors wore a similar garb, only of a royal blue merino, very soft and sensuous, with knickers to match. Mistresses alone sometimes liked to wear no knickers in their private rooms.

  Theoretically, material modified the cuts we received but I do not think our gossamer coverings did so. There were even times when I truly considered that birch or cane bit and stung into one worse when knickered. The flesh was held firm; the cuts ate in like fiends. Furthermore, unbuttoning had to be careful and considered. The command "Take down your knickers" at Lowood meant freeing twenty pearl buttons, with plenty of time for reflection, before peeling the fabric from the loins. Knickers could be examined at any time, and often were at night. Any soiling, before or behind, meant punishment, with perhaps a strap round one's mouth keeping the offending garment in it all night. Only spots of blood, after a birching, were an honor. Finally, with trembling hearts as well as quivering skirts, we were presented to Miss Temple, the Head. Her office lay at the top of some curved stairs and was very opulent. We had been instructed to prostrate ourselves in her presence, as was the rule: this meant to kneel with hands held behind the back and lower the forehead to the very ground, bare board or carpet, until the permission to rise was given.

  It was, at once; and though shivering with dread, we met the friendly eyes of a plump woman of some forty years, wearing pince-nez. I remember she also wore a watch and had fleshy shoulders, but we were supposed to stare ahead of us in her presence, at a level with our own eyes.

  There was no sign of severity about Miss Temple that day; I recall only noticing, with the quick observation of the young, a rapier-like switch of some shiny black substance lying along her polished desktop. But she seemed a gentle person, almost shy, with a soft fluid smile. Someone kind, you would say. We were to learn what heart this hid later.

  For the nonce she confined herself to addressing a few words of welcome to us and catechizing us on the institution. When it came to my turn she asked, "Who was Naomi Brocklehurst?"

  "The lady who built this house, Ma'am, as the tablet outside records, and whose son now overlooks and directs everything here."

  "Why?"

  "Because he is treasurer and manager of the establishment, Ma'am."

  She seemed pleased and then asked, "Are you happy, Jane Eyre?"

  I said yes, for I was. We were shortly dismissed, after reciting the rules, and that evening there was a tumult of great girls arriving and being assigned here and there. Though each and all had to reck the rod, there was a natural ebullience of girlish spirits which warmly cheered me. My life at Lowood had begun.

  Thwlupp!

  SIIIIIIX!

  "Yaaaaow!" I yelled.

  White-hot coals. A slicing razor. What was it like? No brand could have been worse. The ivory cane struck in agonizingly and I bunched my buttocks in speechless reply. It was the most rare and cruel cane there was.

  Dear God, but halfway through and no respite in sight.

  A satisfied man's growl sounded from behind me—"Jane, I do declare I've drawn."

  6

  Life at th
e institution began early. Promptly at six a great bell was clanged in the corridors and on pain of punishment every girl had to be out of bed before it had ceased ringing. I was in a dormitory of eight girls in all, from all three ranks of the school; the new-knicks had been separated and my only colleague was the inky-haired and petite Joan Walker. We were in the charge of a monitor or Dorm Head called Marjorie Parker, a slender girl.

  The previous night, as we were getting to bed, this great girl had looked with a frown at a list in her hand and said, "You Jane Eyre?"

  "Yes, Parker," I said.

  "Three first thing tomorrow." Then she crossed the aisle and said to Joan Walker, "Three first thing tomorrow. For a week."

  Accordingly, as the girls all jumped out of bed, blithely divested themselves of their nightgowns, and ran into the adjacent wash-room, we presented ourselves to Parker, who was already dressed in her soft blue merino. But she merely pointed—"After your cold baths."

  So we scampered through to the tiled wash-room, nude like the rest.

  It was spacious and cold, the windows having been left open all night in order (I later learnt) to sheet the great central bath, several yards wide, with ice. Every girl had to plunge into this on rising and then rub her body dry with a coarse towel. There were then basins on stands for each girl. Naturally there was much squealing and laughing as the girls ducked their warm bodies in the icy water, which splashed up and doused the rush-lights.

  Joan and Jane, dripping, then went back into the dorm for their three. We had not been granted the sight of the implement, but Parker appeared from her little curtained recess at the top of three short stairs holding a long lean cane.

  "You first," she said, pointing to me. "Bend over there. No, so. Like this."

  She showed me how she wanted me, bending till her own soft skirt slid up, revealing plump knickered chubbies. I had to bend in front of her steps, a little more than half over, holding the top one. She gave me three terrifically licky cuts, the last of which straightened me scarlet-faced. Whether it was the cold morning, the icy tub, or what, those under-cuts

  stung furiously and I kneaded my bottoms after them as never I had after six from any of the Reed children. I began to develop a respect for Lowood willow.

  The other girls, some still towelling, gathered, grinning. It was now the turn of Joan. She bent gracefully, her nervous little bottoms looking very tender. She got three strong slices very low and hopped and pranced in place, mewling with pain, when they were over. The monitor said "All right," rather boredly, and went into her den.

  It was now the time for lacing. The girl who did mine said, "Hurts more wet, don't you think? You wait till you see Matron's switch. Stand still, silly." We made our beds, tidied our frocks, slid hands up skin-taut stockings and stood at the head of our beds like soldiers on parade. It was the moment for daily inspection. The monitor went to the door to await the Matron's visit.

  Presently we heard the tap-tap from the next dormitory and, preceded by the Duty Prefect of the day, the Matron swung in, to be greeted by a curtsey from Parker and frozen stillness from ourselves. My vision was limited, mostly to the tears in Joan Walker's eyes opposite me, for we had to look firmly ahead unless addressed. But the diurnal cortege was spectacular and should be mentioned here.

  The Duty Prefect of the day wore a costume which was the envy of all, a charming soft Grecian chlamys of purest white, just covering her bottom and no more. It was kirtled with a gold girdle and a large gold L was emblazoned on the left breast. The outlines of her knickers were tantalizingly visible through the material as she moved and her stockings were of golden brown.

  The Matron was clad in black leather, though her skirt was not as short as Nell's. She was a brawny personage of fifty-five with a sour expression on her lined face, from which hairs erupted. She had the muscles of a man and swung herself into the room aggressively on her black crutches, for, yes, Mrs. Harden had but one leg. This was booted thigh-high in black leather and the stump of its severed twin indented the material of her skirt as she made forward.

  She passed me, I was thankful, without so much as a glance, though the monitor following put a hand under my skirt behind, and felt my back-thrust rump, presumably to see that all was tight and tidy there. The girl to my right had to open her mouth and had her teeth inspected with a black-gloved hand. Another showed her ears. Unlike some of the other mistresses, Matron Harden inspired dread fear; she was a woman made up of equal parts of whalebone and iron, a brutal, low person under her impassive exterior. Wherever she went a long supple switch accompanied her right leg; its trainer or tail was braided and hard.

  Finally, she had found a fault. I discerned some reproof on the other side of the dormitory. I did not look—at first—but a Minor, albeit a big girl of nearly seventeen, had been faulted for some matter connected with her bed; probably she had not made up one corner in the special way we were required to. I had to look. I looked.

  With a wretched expression the girl stood back from her bed, turned and bent over, grasping the rail at the bottom of it. The Duty monitor lifted up her tiny skirt, revealing firmly thrusting buttocks in their smokeblue veil of skintight knickers. There was a band of flesh below these, then the stockings. The Matron handed her right crutch to Parker and leaning on the other, stood well back.

  She cut with astonishing venom. Once, twice, thrice, that switch bit wickedly into the young flesh. The dark weals showed as if written by some pencil. Her buttocks clenched, she clung perilously to the rail, her head back. She was panting.

  "Bend right over, Crawford," said the Duty Prefect.

  Ffffressp! Four.

  The girl arched erect, clasping her bottoms and hissing with pain. I looked away. But some altercation ensued. It was evident the Matron was displeased with the culprit's performance; the girl had not waited for her permissive word to rise. She had been awarded a Demerit for recalcitrance under correction and would accordingly find herself getting four in the Duty Room that evening, the initiatory number for her class.

  I believe we all gave a sigh of relief when that martinet in black leather left the room. Mine was echoed by Parker's hot whisper in my ear, "I ought to report you for turning and looking, Eyre. I am responsible for the discipline of this dorm to the Head. Now touch your toes twenty times." When I had done so and was flushing she said, "You will write me out a hundred times by tonight, 'I must stare straight ahead during Inspection.' Understand?"

  "Yes, Parker."

  The bell rang for breakfast. We trooped down in order of dormitories.

  Great Hall was ruddy with gigantic log fires and the warmth of young bodies. The mistresses ate at a raised or "high" table at one end, the whole assembly awaiting the entry of the majestic Miss Temple, in a sweeping gown, who read Collect from a lectern and then Grace, before we might sit down to our gruel.

  I was about to do so when I saw the girl who had been whipped in the dormitory remaining standing, and did so myself, recollecting just in time the school rule that any girl who had received cuts that day took her meals upright. There were already one or two to do so. I thanked my lucky stars I had remembered.

  After copious commons there was a free period for our natural needs and preparation for classes. The relief of the inner person at Lowood institution was something I found particularly vexing, all my first year there. How trying it was day after day to be reduced to the rank of absolute mere children. For while the great girls had some privacy, the Minimus class and ourselves had to perform this function publicly in the presence of the Matron, in an upstairs room of the house.

  Matron sat at a table, with a book, and we lined up beside it. She called out three names and three girls advanced to a small raised area before us. There in front of all they had to un-knicker and squat down over large shallow white pans, into which they had to "do their duty," as the saying went. We were given three or four minutes for this task of voiding our entrails, facing a wall, after which we were declared costive; the st
rains and grunts that ensued might have seemed comical, were they not in such deadly earnest. For Matron was a merciless clysterer.

  Once done, the girl then cleaned herself, re-knickered and showed her bowl to the Matron, who marked it down in her text. The girl then flushed it out at one side and gave it to the next, and so on.

  The diet at Lowood was such—our porridge was replete with psyllium seeds—that stool was generally large, full, and unyielding. I have seen quite small girls, indeed, thump down great massy turds, steaming in the basin, worthy of some stable. But this first day the aperient had not had its effect and of the thirteen of our number, for the Minnie class was nine, with us four to add, three were declared costive. Of these poor Joan Walker's efforts to relieve herself had been quite pathetic. I saw these girls morosely eyeing the saucepan of oil heating over the flame, their knickers round their ankles, as I quit the chamber.