day I left Marsh End for Morton. The day after, Diana and Mary
quitted it for distant B—. In a week, Mr. Rivers and Hannah
repaired to the parsonage: and so the old grange was abandoned.
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Chapter XXXI
My home, then,—when I at last find a home,—is a cottage;
a little room with whitewashed walls and a sanded floor,
containing four painted chairs and a table, a clock, a
cupboard, with two or three plates and dishes, and a set of tea-
things in delf. Above, a chamber of the same dimensions as the
kitchen, with a deal bedstead and chest of drawers; small, yet too
large to be filled with my scanty wardrobe: though the kindness of
my gentle and generous friends has increased that, by a modest
stock of such things as are necessary.
It is evening. I have dismissed, with the fee of an orange, the
little orphan who serves me as a handmaid. I am sitting alone on
the hearth. This morning, the village school opened. I had twenty
scholars. But three of the number can read: none write or cipher.
Several knit, and a few sew a little. They speak with the broadest
accent of the district. At present, they and I have a difficulty in
understanding each other’s language. Some of them are
unmannered, rough, intractable, as well as ignorant; but others
are docile, have a wish to learn, and evince a disposition that
pleases me. I must not forget that these coarsely-clad little
peasants are of flesh and blood as good as the scions of gentlest
genealogy; and that the germs of native excellence, refinement,
intelligence, kind feeling, are as likely to exist in their hearts as in
those of the best-born. My duty will be to develop these germs:
surely I shall find some happiness in discharging that office. Much
enjoyment I do not expect in the life opening before me: yet it will,
doubtless, if I regulate my mind, and exert my powers as I ought,
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Jane Eyre 510
yield me enough to live on from day to day.
Was I very gleeful, settled, content, during the hours I passed in
yonder bare, humble schoolroom this morning and afternoon? Not
to deceive myself, I must reply—No: I felt desolate to a degree. I
felt—yes, idiot that I am—I felt degraded. I doubted I had taken a
step which sank instead of raising me in the scale of social
existence. I was weakly dismayed at the ignorance, the poverty,
the coarseness of all I heard and saw round me. But let me not
hate and despise myself too much for these feelings; I know them
to be wrong—that is a great step gained; I shall strive to overcome
them. To-morrow, I trust, I shall get the better of them partially;
and in a few weeks, perhaps, they will be quite subdued. In a few
months, it is possible, the happiness of seeing progress, and a
change for the better in my scholars may substitute gratification
for disgust.
Meantime, let me ask myself one question—Which is better?—
To have surrendered to temptation; listened to passion; made no
painful effort—no struggle;—but to have sunk down in the silken
snare; fallen asleep on the flowers covering it; wakened in a
southern clime, amongst the luxuries of a pleasure villa: to have
been now living in France, Mr. Rochester’s mistress; delirious
with his love half my time—for he would—oh, yes, he would have
loved me well for a while. He did love me—no one will ever love
me so again. I shall never more know the sweet homage given to
beauty, youth, and grace—for never to any one else shall I seem to
possess these charms. He was fond and proud of me—it is what no
man besides will ever be.—But where am I wandering, and what
am I saying, and above all, feeling? Whether is it better, I ask, to
be a slave in a fool’s "};
