Angels and Absences: Child Deaths in the Nineteenth Century (50 page)

Read Angels and Absences: Child Deaths in the Nineteenth Century Online

Authors: Laurence Lerner

Tags: #History, #Modern, #19th Century, #Social Science, #Death & Dying, #test

 
Page 132
uselessness of good works, Bessy is given what is perhaps the most interesting theological statement in the book:
I am not expecting to do well after death on account of any good work I can do. I know that I never have, and never shall deserve heaven by any of my good doings. But, surely, if I thought that the only way of escaping the fear of death is by doing such good works, I should be even more silly than I am now, if I did not resolve to try to do some of them when frightened as you now are, though I know that I should forget my good resolutions the very first time I got into merry company. But unhappily, as my aunt often says, "they that talk most of being saved by good works are those who commonly do the fewest." (481).
The logic of these ifs and nots has proved too tricky even for the author. Bessy the scapegrace produces here an impeccably orthodox statement.
If
she believed in good works, she would be silly;
since
she is so unreliable when it comes to good behavior, she is in no danger of relying on it for her salvation; and so she can range herself with her admirable aunt in a final sentence that sounds very like a defense of the mischievousness that is elsewhere so sternly condemned, but that need not damn her if salvation depends only on God's decree.
Mrs. Sherwood's principles of child-rearing are based on the doctrine of depravity. Misbehavior and disobedience are signs of original sin and must be firmly chastized. The Fairchild children, therefore, are not always depicted as models of good behavior, so that we can study their faults; and even when they commit no faults, they must be reminded of their natural wickedness. So when Lucy remarks that they seem to be better than they used to be, because they have not been punished for a long time, her mother tells her not to boast or think well of herself:
If you have not done any very naughty thing lately, it is not because there is any goodness or wisdom in you, but because your papa and I have been always with you, carefully watching and guiding you from morning to night. (43)
A real child made the answer that Lucy is not allowed to make. Elizabeth Fry's daughter Betsy, who died, aged four, in 1815, declared to her mother:
 
Page 133
"Mamma, I love everybody better than myself, and I love thee better than everybody, and I love Almighty much better than thee, and I hope thee loves Almighty much better than me." I believe my answer was, "I hope or believe I do," which she took up and said, "I hope thee does, if not, thee are wicked." Afterwards I appeared to satisfy her that it was so.
4
The Frys were not Calvinist, but Betsy has internalized the idea of depravity, perhaps even of a natural depravity needing to be transformed by the love of God (whom she charmingly calls "Almighty," as if it was a name)though she takes this, un-Calvinistically, to mean her love for God, not God's for her. And then she takes the step that no Fairchild child would ever dream of taking, suggesting the possibility that her mother, if she gets the hierarchy of loving wrong, might be wicked. She takes this step lovingly, and her mother can accept it, for this real situation is one of deep natural affection. But the normal situation of the fictitious Fairchilds is one off conflict, and if the children were allowed to think their parents wicked it would be an accusation.
But, of course, parents are sinners too: a theological point that Mrs. Sherwood glosses over. A system of child rearing that gives total responsibility to parents must assume that they at any rate have some goodness or wisdomindeed, Mrs. Fairchild even remarks on the sad plight of those poor children "who have not good fathers and mothers to take care of them." This comes out most sharply in the episode of Henry's refusal to learn Latin. Mr. Fairchild tells him plainly that he will need to work hard, and Henry responds with passive resistance, refusing to learn or even to answer his father when rebuked. All he says is "I don't want to learn Latin." This produces a stern speech and a sterner punishment from his father, who announces that he will speak to Henry no more, neither will his mamma or sisters, and he will be given only bread and water. His sisters, forbidden to speak to him, run away when he addresses them, his mother and the servants will only tell him how wicked he has been, and this, of course, soon breaks his spirit, and he gives in, thus justifying his father's strictnessand his father's goodness. The thought that Mr. Fairchild's treatment of his son is a sign of his own wicked heart is not for a moment entertained, and when he says to Henry, "I stand in the place of God to you," there is not a hint of irony. The point is even more striking because of the issuelearning Latin. Children did not learn Latin in the nineteenth
 
Page 134
century for directly Christian reasons: the Bible is, after all, written in Hebrew and Greek. They learned Latin because it was an accomplishment of gentlemen, that is, for very secular reasons.
This leads us to politics.
The Fairchild Family
is totally single-minded in its acceptance of the status quo and does not distinguish between, on the one hand, growing up as a good Christian and, on the other hand, growing up as a young lady or gentleman. It is important that the children play only with the right companions:
"Why Henry," interrupted Mrs Fairchild, "What is this I hear? Bill Rogers and Sykes! They are not fit companions for you, my dear boy. How came you acquainted with them? (437)"
Evil communications corrupt good manners: are Bill Rogers and Sykes unfit companions because they will lead Henry into sin, or because they will teach him to enjoy ungentlemanly pursuits? Mrs. Fairchild does not draw the distinction, but we can; and we can notice her saying that "no gentleman by birth is a
real
gentleman who loves the stable-yard, and the company of uneducated grooms and keepers of dogs," or, even more explicitly, explaining that "all the conditions of the children of God on earth are appointed by Him; some being placed in low degrees, some in middling, and some in higher."
I have gone into the theology of
The Fairchild Family
not only because it governs the way child death is represented, but also because the implied author we meet in its pages invites comparison with another famous child story. We know that this novel was written by Mary Sherwood; but how easy to imagine it being by Mr. Brocklehurst. The Reverend Carus Wilson, headmaster of the school that Charlotte Brontë attended, is usually considered the "original" of Mr. Brocklehurst, the tyrannical schoolmaster in
Jane Eyre
; Wilson was editor of
The Children's Friend,
a pious evangelical paper, though whether he was specifically a Calvinist is disputed. Both Mr. Wilson himself and Mr. Brocklehurst base their treatment of children on the premise of the child's sinful nature. Mr. Brocklehurst's mission "is to mortify in these girls the lusts of the flesh, to teach them to clothe themselvess with shamefacedness and sobriety, not with braided hair and costly apparel." He orders Julia Severn's hair to be cut off, and when told that Julia's hair curls naturally he replies, "But we are not to conform with nature. I wish these children to be the children of Grace."
5
His punishment of Jane for "lying" has considerable resemblance to Mr. Fairchild's punishment

Other books

Of Moths and Butterflies by Christensen, V. R.
Ryan's Hand by Leila Meacham
The Disappearance of Adèle Bedeau by Graeme Macrae Burnet
Letting Go by Jolie, Meg
Big Easy Temptation by Shayla Black Lexi Blake
Sleep Tight by Jeff Jacobson
The Untouchable by Gerald Seymour
The Ides of March by Valerio Massimo Manfredi, Christine Feddersen-Manfredi