Five o'clock had hardly struck on the morning of the 19th ofJanuary, when Bessie brought a candle into my closet and found mealready up and nearly dressed. I had risen half-an-hour before herentrance, and had washed my face, and put on my clothes by the lightof a half-moon just setting, whose rays streamed through the narrowwindow near my crib. I was to leave Gateshead that day by a coachwhich passed the lodge gates at six a.m. Bessie was the only personyet risen; she had lit a fire in the nursery, where she nowproceeded to make my breakfast. Few children can eat when excitedwith the thoughts of a journey; nor could I. Bessie, having pressedme in vain to take a few spoonfuls of the boiled milk and bread shehad prepared for me, wrapped up some biscuits in a paper and putthem into my bag; then she helped me on with my pelisse and bonnet,and wrapping herself in a shawl, she and I left the nursery. As wepassed Mrs. Reed's bedroom, she said, "Will you go in and bid Missisgood-bye?"

"No, Bessie: she came to my crib last night when you were gone downto supper, and said I need not disturb her in the morning, or mycousins either; and she told me to remember that she had always beenmy best friend, and to speak of her and be grateful to heraccordingly."

"What did you say, Miss?"

"Nothing: I covered my face with the bedclothes, and turned fromher to the wall."

"That was wrong, Miss Jane."

"It was quite right, Bessie. Your Missis has not been my friend:she has been my foe."

"O Miss Jane! don't say so!"

"Good-bye to Gateshead!" cried I, as we passed through the hall andwent out at the front door.

The moon was set, and it was very dark; Bessie carried a lantern,whose light glanced on wet steps and gravel road sodden by a recentthaw. Raw and chill was the winter morning: my teeth chattered asI hastened down the drive. There was a light in the porter's lodge:when we reached it, we found the porter's wife just kindling herfire: my trunk, which had been carried down the evening before,stood corded at the door. It wanted but a few minutes of six, andshortly after that hour had struck, the distant roll of wheelsannounced the coming coach; I went to the door and watched its lampsapproach rapidly through the gloom.

"Is she going by herself?" asked the porter's wife.

"Yes."

"And how far is it?"

"Fifty miles."

"What a long way! I wonder Mrs. Reed is not afraid to trust her sofar alone."

The coach drew up; there it was at the gates with its four horsesand its top laden with passengers: the guard and coachman loudlyurged haste; my trunk was hoisted up; I was taken from Bessie'sneck, to which I clung with kisses.

"Be sure and take good care of her," cried she to the guard, as helifted me into the inside.

"Ay, ay!" was the answer: the door was slapped to, a voiceexclaimed "All right," and on we drove. Thus was I severed fromBessie and Gateshead; thus whirled away to unknown, and, as I thendeemed, remote and mysterious regions.

I remember but little of the journey; I only know that the dayseemed to me of a preternatural length, and that we appeared totravel over hundreds of miles of road. We passed through severaltowns, and in one, a very large one, the coach stopped; the horseswere taken out, and the passengers alighted to dine. I was carriedinto an inn, where the guard wanted me to have some dinner; but, asI had no appetite, he left me in an immense room with a fireplace ateach end, a chandelier pendent from the ceiling, and a little redgallery high up against the wall filled with musical instruments.Here I walked about for a long time, feeling very strange, andmortally apprehensive of some one coming in and kidnapping me; for Ibelieved in kidnappers, their exploits having frequently figured inBessie's fireside chronicles. At last the guard returned; once moreI was stowed away in the coach, my protector mounted his own seat,sounded his hollow horn, and away we rattled over the "stony street"of L-.

The afternoon came on wet and somewhat misty: as it waned intodusk, I began to feel that we were getting very far indeed fromGateshead: we ceased to pass through towns; the country changed;great grey hills heaved up round the horizon: as twilight deepened,we descended a valley, dark with wood, and long after night hadoverclouded the prospect, I heard a wild wind rushing amongst trees.

Lulled by the sound, I at last dropped asleep; I had not longslumbered when the sudden cessation of motion awoke me; the coach-door was open, and a person like a servant was standing at it: Isaw her face and dress by the light of the lamps.

"Is there a little girl called Jane Eyre here?" she asked. Ianswered "Yes," and was then lifted out; my trunk was handed down,and the coach instantly drove away.

I was stiff with long sitting, and bewildered with the noise andmotion of the coach: Gathering my faculties, I looked about me.Rain, wind, and darkness filled the air; nevertheless, I dimlydiscerned a wall before me and a door open in it; through this doorI passed with my new guide: she shut and locked it behind her.There was now visible a house or houses--for the building spreadfar--with many windows, and lights burning in some; we went up abroad pebbly path, splashing wet, and were admitted at a door; thenthe servant led me through a passage into a room with a fire, whereshe left me alone.

I stood and warmed my numbed fingers over the blaze, then I lookedround; there was no candle, but the uncertain light from the hearthshowed, by intervals, papered walls, carpet, curtains, shiningmahogany furniture: it was a parlour, not so spacious or splendidas the drawing-room at Gateshead, but comfortable enough. I waspuzzling to make out the subject of a picture on the wall, when thedoor opened, and an individual carrying a light entered; anotherfollowed close behind.

The first was a tall lady with dark hair, dark eyes, and a pale andlarge forehead; her figure was partly enveloped in a shawl, hercountenance was grave, her bearing erect.

"The child is very young to be sent alone," said she, putting hercandle down on the table. She considered me attentively for aminute or two, then further added -

"She had better be put to bed soon; she looks tired: are youtired?" she asked, placing her hand on my shoulder.

"A little, ma'am."

"And hungry too, no doubt: let her have some supper before she goesto bed, Miss Miller. Is this the first time you have left yourparents to come to school, my little girl?"

I explained to her that I had no parents. She inquired how longthey had been dead: then how old I was, what was my name, whether Icould read, write, and sew a little: then she touched my cheekgently with her forefinger, and saying, "She hoped I should be agood child," dismissed me along with Miss Miller.

The lady I had left might be about twenty-nine; the one who wentwith me appeared some years younger: the first impressed me by hervoice, look, and air. Miss Miller was more ordinary; ruddy incomplexion, though of a careworn countenance; hurried in gait andaction, like one who had always a multiplicity of tasks on hand:she looked, indeed, what I afterwards found she really was, anunder-teacher. Led by her, I passed from compartment tocompartment, from passage to passage, of a large and irregularbuilding; till, emerging from the total and somewhat dreary silencepervading that portion of the house we had traversed, we came uponthe hum of many voices, and presently entered a wide, long room,with great deal tables, two at each end, on each of which burnt apair of candles, and seated all round on benches, a congregation ofgirls of every age, from nine or ten to twenty. Seen by the dimlight of the dips, their number to me appeared countless, though notin reality exceeding eighty; they were uniformly dressed in brownstuff frocks of quaint fashion, and long holland pinafores. It wasthe hour of study; they were engaged in conning over their to-morrow's task, and the hum I had heard was the combined result oftheir whispered repetitions.

Miss Miller signed to me to sit on a bench near the door, thenwalking up to the top of the long room she cried out -

"Monitors, collect the lesson-books and put them away! Four tallgirls arose from different tables, and going round, gathered thebooks and removed them. Miss Miller again gave the word of command-

"Monitors, fetch the supper-trays!"

The tall girls went out and returned presently, each bearing a tray,with portions of something, I knew not what, arranged thereon, and apitcher of water and mug in the middle of each tray. The portionswere handed round; those who liked took a draught of the water, themug being common to all. When it came to my turn, I drank, for Iwas thirsty, but did not touch the food, excitement and fatiguerendering me incapable of eating: I now saw, however, that it was athin oaten cake shared into fragments.

The meal over, prayers were read by Miss Miller, and the classesfiled off, two and two, upstairs. Overpowered by this time withweariness, I scarcely noticed what sort of a place the bedroom was,except that, like the schoolroom, I saw it was very long. To-nightI was to be Miss Miller's bed-fellow; she helped me to undress:when laid down I glanced at the long rows of beds, each of which wasquickly filled with two occupants; in ten minutes the single lightwas extinguished, and amidst silence and complete darkness I fellasleep.

The night passed rapidly. I was too tired even to dream; I onlyonce awoke to hear the wind rave in furious gusts, and the rain fallin torrents, and to be sensible that Miss Miller had taken her placeby my side. When I again unclosed my eyes, a loud bell was ringing;the girls were up and dressing; day had not yet begun to dawn, and arushlight or two burned in the room. I too rose reluctantly; it wasbitter cold, and I dressed as well as I could for shivering, andwashed when there was a basin at liberty, which did not occur soon,as there was but one basin to six girls, on the stands down themiddle of the room. Again the bell rang: all formed in file, twoand two, and in that order descended the stairs and entered the coldand dimly lit schoolroom: here prayers were read by Miss Miller;afterwards she called out -

"Form classes!"

A great tumult succeeded for some minutes, during which Miss Millerrepeatedly exclaimed, "Silence!" and "Order!" When it subsided, Isaw them all drawn up in four semicircles, before four chairs,placed at the four tables; all held books in their hands, and agreat book, like a Bible, lay on each table, before the vacant seat.A pause of some seconds succeeded, filled up by the low, vague humof numbers; Miss Miller walked from class to class, hushing thisindefinite sound.

A distant bell tinkled: immediately three ladies entered the room,each walked to a table and took her seat. Miss Miller assumed thefourth vacant chair, which was that nearest the door, and aroundwhich the smallest of the children were assembled: to this inferiorclass I was called, and placed at the bottom of it.

Business now began, the day's Collect was repeated, then certaintexts of Scripture were said, and to these succeeded a protractedreading of chapters in the Bible, which lasted an hour. By the timethat exercise was terminated, day had fully dawned. Theindefatigable bell now sounded for the fourth time: the classeswere marshalled and marched into another room to breakfast: howglad I was to behold a prospect of getting something to eat! I wasnow nearly sick from inanition, having taken so little the daybefore.

The refectory was a great, low-ceiled, gloomy room; on two longtables smoked basins of something hot, which, however, to my dismay,sent forth an odour far from inviting. I saw a universalmanifestation of discontent when the fumes of the repast met thenostrils of those destined to swallow it; from the van of theprocession, the tall girls of the first class, rose the whisperedwords -

"Disgusting! The porridge is burnt again!"

"Silence!" ejaculated a voice; not that of Miss Miller, but one ofthe upper teachers, a little and dark personage, smartly dressed,but of somewhat morose aspect, who installed herself at the top ofone table, while a more buxom lady presided at the other. I lookedin vain for her I had first seen the night before; she was notvisible: Miss Miller occupied the foot of the table where I sat,and a strange, foreign-looking, elderly lady, the French teacher, asI afterwards found, took the corresponding seat at the other board.A long grace was said and a hymn sung; then a servant brought insome tea for the teachers, and the meal began.

Ravenous, and now very faint, I devoured a spoonful or two of myportion without thinking of its taste; but the first edge of hungerblunted, I perceived I had got in hand a nauseous mess; burntporridge is almost as bad as rotten potatoes; famine itself soonsickens over it. The spoons were moved slowly: I saw each girltaste her food and try to swallow it; but in most cases the effortwas soon relinquished. Breakfast was over, and none hadbreakfasted. Thanks being returned for what we had not got, and asecond hymn chanted, the refectory was evacuated for the schoolroom.I was one of the last to go out, and in passing the tables, I sawone teacher take a basin of the porridge and taste it; she looked atthe others; all their countenances expressed displeasure, and one ofthem, the stout one, whispered -

"Abominable stuff! How shameful!"

A quarter of an hour passed before lessons again began, during whichthe schoolroom was in a glorious tumult; for that space of time itseemed to be permitted to talk loud and more freely, and they usedtheir privilege. The whole conversation ran on the breakfast, whichone and all abused roundly. Poor things! it was the soleconsolation they had. Miss Miller was now the only teacher in theroom: a group of great girls standing about her spoke with seriousand sullen gestures. I heard the name of Mr. Brocklehurstpronounced by some lips; at which Miss Miller shook her headdisapprovingly; but she made no great effort to cheek the generalwrath; doubtless she shared in it.

A clock in the schoolroom struck nine; Miss Miller left her circle,and standing in the middle of the room, cried -

"Silence! To your seats!"

Discipline prevailed: in five minutes the confused throng wasresolved into order, and comparative silence quelled the Babelclamour of tongues. The upper teachers now punctually resumed theirposts: but still, all seemed to wait. Ranged on benches down thesides of the room, the eighty girls sat motionless and erect; aquaint assemblage they appeared, all with plain locks combed fromtheir faces, not a curl visible; in brown dresses, made high andsurrounded by a narrow tucker about the throat, with little pocketsof holland (shaped something like a Highlander's purse) tied infront of their frocks, and destined to serve the purpose of a work-bag: all, too, wearing woollen stockings and country-made shoes,fastened with brass buckles. Above twenty of those clad in thiscostume were full-grown girls, or rather young women; it suited themill, and gave an air of oddity even to the prettiest.

I was still looking at them, and also at intervals examining theteachers--none of whom precisely pleased me; for the stout one was alittle coarse, the dark one not a little fierce, the foreigner harshand grotesque, and Miss Miller, poor thing! looked purple, weather-beaten, and over-worked--when, as my eye wandered from face to face,the whole school rose simultaneously, as if moved by a commonspring.

What was the matter? I had heard no order given: I was puzzled.Ere I had gathered my wits, the classes were again seated: but asall eyes were now turned to one point, mine followed the generaldirection, and encountered the personage who had received me lastnight. She stood at the bottom of the long room, on the hearth; forthere was a fire at each end; she surveyed the two rows of girlssilently and gravely. Miss Miller approaching, seemed to ask her aquestion, and having received her answer, went back to her place,and said aloud -

"Monitor of the first class, fetch the globes!"

While the direction was being executed, the lady consulted movedslowly up the room. I suppose I have a considerable organ ofveneration, for I retain yet the sense of admiring awe with which myeyes traced her steps. Seen now, in broad daylight, she lookedtall, fair, and shapely; brown eyes with a benignant light in theiririds, and a fine pencilling of long lashes round, relieved thewhiteness of her large front; on each of her temples her hair, of avery dark brown, was clustered in round curls, according to thefashion of those times, when neither smooth bands nor long ringletswere in vogue; her dress, also in the mode of the day, was of purplecloth, relieved by a sort of Spanish trimming of black velvet; agold watch (watches were not so common then as now) shone at hergirdle. Let the reader add, to complete the picture, refinedfeatures; a complexion, if pale, clear; and a stately air andcarriage, and he will have, at least, as clearly as words can giveit, a correct idea of the exterior of Miss Temple--Maria Temple, asI afterwards saw the name written in a prayer-book intrusted to meto carry to church.

The superintendent of Lowood (for such was this lady) having takenher seat before a pair of globes placed on one of the tables,summoned the first class round her, and commenced giving a lesson ongeography; the lower classes were called by the teachers:repetitions in history, grammar, &c., went on for an hour; writingand arithmetic succeeded, and music lessons were given by MissTemple to some of the elder girls. The duration of each lesson wasmeasured by the clock, which at last struck twelve. Thesuperintendent rose -

"I have a word to address to the pupils," said she.

The tumult of cessation from lessons was already breaking forth, butit sank at her voice. She went on -

"You had this morning a breakfast which you could not eat; you mustbe hungry:--I have ordered that a lunch of bread and cheese shall beserved to all."

The teachers looked at her with a sort of surprise.

"It is to be done on my responsibility," she added, in anexplanatory tone to them, and immediately afterwards left the room.

The bread and cheese was presently brought in and distributed, tothe high delight and refreshment of the whole school. The order wasnow given "To the garden!" Each put on a coarse straw bonnet, withstrings of coloured calico, and a cloak of grey frieze. I wassimilarly equipped, and, following the stream, I made my way intothe open air.

The garden was a wide inclosure, surrounded with walls so high as toexclude every glimpse of prospect; a covered verandah ran down oneside, and broad walks bordered a middle space divided into scores oflittle beds: these beds were assigned as gardens for the pupils tocultivate, and each bed had an owner. When full of flowers theywould doubtless look pretty; but now, at the latter end of January,all was wintry blight and brown decay. I shuddered as I stood andlooked round me: it was an inclement day for outdoor exercise; notpositively rainy, but darkened by a drizzling yellow fog; all underfoot was still soaking wet with the floods of yesterday. Thestronger among the girls ran about and engaged in active games, butsundry pale and thin ones herded together for shelter and warmth inthe verandah; and amongst these, as the dense mist penetrated totheir shivering frames, I heard frequently the sound of a hollowcough.

As yet I had spoken to no one, nor did anybody seem to take noticeof me; I stood lonely enough: but to that feeling of isolation Iwas accustomed; it did not oppress me much. I leant against apillar of the verandah, drew my grey mantle close about me, and,trying to forget the cold which nipped me without, and theunsatisfied hunger which gnawed me within, delivered myself up tothe employment of watching and thinking. My reflections were tooundefined and fragmentary to merit record: I hardly yet knew whereI was; Gateshead and my past life seemed floated away to animmeasurable distance; the present was vague and strange, and of thefuture I could form no conjecture. I looked round the convent-likegarden, and then up at the house--a large building, half of whichseemed grey and old, the other half quite new. The new part,containing the schoolroom and dormitory, was lit by mullioned andlatticed windows, which gave it a church-like aspect; a stone tabletover the door bore this inscription:-

"Lowood Institution.--This portion was rebuilt A.D.--, by NaomiBrocklehurst, of Brocklehurst Hall, in this county." "Let yourlight so shine before men, that they may see your good works, andglorify your Father which is in heaven."-- St. Matt. v. 16.

I read these words over and over again: I felt that an explanationbelonged to them, and was unable fully to penetrate their import. Iwas still pondering the signification of "Institution," andendeavouring to make out a connection between the first words andthe verse of Scripture, when the sound of a cough close behind memade me turn my head. I saw a girl sitting on a stone bench near;she was bent over a book, on the perusal of which she seemed intent:from where I stood I could see the title--it was "Rasselas;" a namethat struck me as strange, and consequently attractive. In turninga leaf she happened to look up, and I said to her directly -

"Is your book interesting?" I had already formed the intention ofasking her to lend it to me some day.

"I like it," she answered, after a pause of a second or two, duringwhich she examined me.

"What is it about?" I continued. I hardly know where I found thehardihood thus to open a conversation with a stranger; the step wascontrary to my nature and habits: but I think her occupationtouched a chord of sympathy somewhere; for I too liked reading,though of a frivolous and childish kind; I could not digest orcomprehend the serious or substantial.

"You may look at it," replied the girl, offering me the book.

I did so; a brief examination convinced me that the contents wereless taking than the title: "Rasselas" looked dull to my triflingtaste; I saw nothing about fairies, nothing about genii; no brightvariety seemed spread over the closely-printed pages. I returned itto her; she received it quietly, and without saying anything she wasabout to relapse into her former studious mood: again I ventured todisturb her -

"Can you tell me what the writing on that stone over the door means?What is Lowood Institution?"

"This house where you are come to live."

"And why do they call it Institution? Is it in any way differentfrom other schools?"

"It is partly a charity-school: you and I, and all the rest of us,are charity-children. I suppose you are an orphan: are not eitheryour father or your mother dead?"

"Both died before I can remember."

"Well, all the girls here have lost either one or both parents, andthis is called an institution for educating orphans."

"Do we pay no money? Do they keep us for nothing?"

"We pay, or our friends pay, fifteen pounds a year for each."

"Then why do they call us charity-children?"

"Because fifteen pounds is not enough for board and teaching, andthe deficiency is supplied by subscription."

"Who subscribes?"

"Different benevolent-minded ladies and gentlemen in thisneighbourhood and in London."

"Who was Naomi Brocklehurst?"

"The lady who built the new part of this house as that tabletrecords, and whose son overlooks and directs everything here."

"Why?"

"Because he is treasurer and manager of the establishment."

"Then this house does not belong to that tall lady who wears awatch, and who said we were to have some bread and cheese?"

"To Miss Temple? Oh, no! I wish it did: she has to answer to Mr.Brocklehurst for all she does. Mr. Brocklehurst buys all our foodand all our clothes."

"Does he live here?"

"No--two miles off, at a large hall."

"Is he a good man?"

"He is a clergyman, and is said to do a great deal of good."

"Did you say that tall lady was called Miss Temple?"

"Yes."

"And what are the other teachers called?"

"The one with red cheeks is called Miss Smith; she attends to thework, and cuts out--for we make our own clothes, our frocks, andpelisses, and everything; the little one with black hair is MissScatcherd; she teaches history and grammar, and hears the secondclass repetitions; and the one who wears a shawl, and has a pocket-handkerchief tied to her side with a yellow ribband, is MadamePierrot: she comes from Lisle, in France, and teaches French."

"Do you like the teachers?"

"Well enough."

"Do you like the little black one, and the Madame -?--I cannotpronounce her name as you do."

"Miss Scatcherd is hasty--you must take care not to offend her;Madame Pierrot is not a bad sort of person."

"But Miss Temple is the best--isn't she?"

"Miss Temple is very good and very clever; she is above the rest,because she knows far more than they do."

"Have you been long here?"

"Two years."

"Are you an orphan?"

"My mother is dead."

"Are you happy here?"

"You ask rather too many questions. I have given you answers enoughfor the present: now I want to read."

But at that moment the summons sounded for dinner; all re-enteredthe house. The odour which now filled the refectory was scarcelymore appetising than that which had regaled our nostrils atbreakfast: the dinner was served in two huge tin-plated vessels,whence rose a strong steam redolent of rancid fat. I found the messto consist of indifferent potatoes and strange shreds of rusty meat,mixed and cooked together. Of this preparation a tolerably abundantplateful was apportioned to each pupil. I ate what I could, andwondered within myself whether every day's fare would be like this.

After dinner, we immediately adjourned to the schoolroom: lessonsrecommenced, and were continued till five o'clock.

The only marked event of the afternoon was, that I saw the girl withwhom I had conversed in the verandah dismissed in disgrace by MissScatcherd from a history class, and sent to stand in the middle ofthe large schoolroom. The punishment seemed to me in a high degreeignominious, especially for so great a girl--she looked thirteen orupwards. I expected she would show signs of great distress andshame; but to my surprise she neither wept nor blushed: composed,though grave, she stood, the central mark of all eyes. "How can shebear it so quietly--so firmly?" I asked of myself. "Were I in herplace, it seems to me I should wish the earth to open and swallow meup. She looks as if she were thinking of something beyond herpunishment--beyond her situation: of something not round her norbefore her. I have heard of day-dreams--is she in a day-dream now?Her eyes are fixed on the floor, but I am sure they do not see it--her sight seems turned in, gone down into her heart: she is lookingat what she can remember, I believe; not at what is really present.I wonder what sort of a girl she is--whether good or naughty."

Soon after five p.m. we had another meal, consisting of a small mugof coffee, and half-a-slice of brown bread. I devoured my bread anddrank my coffee with relish; but I should have been glad of as muchmore--I was still hungry. Half-an-hour's recreation succeeded, thenstudy; then the glass of water and the piece of oat-cake, prayers,and bed. Such was my first day at Lowood.