Miss Strang Chapter 76
By Governess
Copyright 2010 by Governess, all rights reserved
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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit
depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are
not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or
if such material does not appeal to you, do not read
further, and do not save this story.
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Chapter 76
"Do I have to repeat myself, Simon. Do you think a boy of your age, who has wilfully vandalised a flower bed, should be birched? And if so how many strokes should he receive?"
He stood, pale and anxious, twisting his hands. A young colt caught in the drift for whom there was no escaping the branding iron. Already the smell of burnt flesh was in his nostrils.
"Well, was the boy Cameron birched?"
He squirmed in front of her.
"Stand still, Simon, and answer my question. Was the boy Cameron birched?"
"Ye . . yes, Miss Strang."
"And how many strokes did he receive?"
"Pl . . please, Miss Strang, was it thirty?"
"Yes, Simon. Thirty strokes. Twelve with a nursery birch that must have barely tickled his rump, and then eighteen with a tough, lithe birch that provided the punishment he deserved. And what was he birched for?"
"F . . for burning and breaking things and . . . "
"In fact for wilful acts of vandalism. For destroying things for no good reason. Things that belonged to other people."
She paused.
"Just as you destroyed the young wallflowers that Mr Mountfield had planted."
She looked at him.
"And for that you deserve at least twelve cuts with a solid reformatory birch."
She glanced down at the list.
"And now your reluctance to come into lunch when called. As you now realise obedience is the foundational virtue for a child. Without obedience a child cannot be good. It was by disobedience that sin first entered our world."
She paused.
"For that reason all disobedience must be punished severely. You wilfully refused to come to the table when summoned. And for that you will receive six strokes of the cane."
And so it continued. And each time, Miss Strang marked the sheet on which his offences were recorded.
"Livia, pass me one of the drawstring bags you fetched from my desk."
I handed it to her. She eased it open and held it out to Simon.
"Please put the twelve punishment stones in this bag, Simon."
Slowly he picked them up one by one and dropped them in. She then took the bag from him and pulled the drawstring tight. Then, she hung the bag around his neck.
"Each time you receive a punishment, Simon, cancelling one of your sins on this list, a stone will be removed. And you will continue to wear the bag until all the stones are gone and every sin has been atoned for."
She smiled.
"Do you understand?"
"Yes, Miss Strang."
"Good. Now go to your desk and open your arithmetic book at page 51. You will attempt the problems on that page. And I am looking to see six completed correctly within the next quarter of an hour."
She turned to John.
"And now John let us examine your misdemeanours over the last year."
She picked up the sheet. And ran her finger down it, counting under her breath.
"Fifteen things listed, John."
She looked up.
"Does that surprise you?"
He hesitated.
"No, Miss Strang."
"No, I am sure it does not. So let us go through the list Mrs Mountfield has so thoughtfully prepared."
She looked down at the sheet of paper before her.
"Fifteen sins. And the first is rudeness. And Mrs Mountfield has written against it in large print VERY FREQUENT. So what do you say to that, my boy?"
John was flushed and bright eyed, the epitome of a boy facing punishment.
"I . . . I'm sorry, Miss Strang."
"Well, I am pleased you are sorry, John. And in due course you will have an opportunity to apologise to Mrs Mountfield herself. But being sorry is only one small step towards forgiveness. Forgiveness is not just a matter of words. Of your saying sorry, and the person you have wronged kindly saying, 'I forgive you'. Words are not enough."
She paused.
"If I were in the greengrocers, John and I took an apple and ate it, and then took a juicy plum and ate that, too, what do you think the greengrocer would say? What would he expect?"
"He . . . he'd want you to pay for them."
"And suppose I offered him words instead of money. Suppose I said, I am sorry I ate your fruit. Do you think he would accept that as payment instead of the price marked on the fruit?"
"No, Miss Strang."
"No. And your sins are like that ripe apple and that juicy plum. They have been enjoyed. And now payment must be made. And the currency in which children pay for their sins is punishment."
He hung his head.
She glanced down.
"So, over the last year you have been frequently rude to Mrs Mountfield. And no doubt to others. Can you remember being rude?"
"Yes, Miss Strang."
"Well that is encouraging. And what do you remember about your rudeness? How were you rude to Mrs Mountfield?"
"I . . . I called her a witch . . . Miss Strang. And . . . and other names."
"And why did you do that?"
"Because she told me to do things. And . . . and I don't like her."
"I see. She gave you an instruction that you resented and you not only disobeyed her but were also rude. Because you did not like her."
She paused. John shuffled uncomfortably.
"Well, John, let us get several things straight. First, when an adult in this household tells you to do something, you obey immediately and without argument. Whether you like the adult is beside the point. A soldier in battle does not refuse a command from an officer because he does not like him. He obeys him because the officer has the authority to issue commands and to have them obeyed. And it is the same with you. You will obey and obey immediately. Without argument."
She paused.
"But, John, there are two sorts of disobedience. In the first, a boy may accept that an adult has the right to insist that he comes in for his lunch. And he may disobey because he wants to finish his game. And for that he certainly needs to be punished. But there is another sort of disobedience. A far more serious kind. Where the boy disobeys because he arrogantly regards himself as above rules and above authority. Nobody, so he thinks, has the right to tell him what to do. And that boy is not only disobedient but rude and disrespectful."
She looked at the boy squirming before her.
"And when you refused to obey Mrs Mountfield and called her a witch, you were not only disobeying her command you were rejecting her right to exercise authority over you. Is that not right?"
"Please, Miss Strang. Please, I'm sorry."
"That John is not an answer to my question. So let me repeat it. When you called Mrs Mountfield a witch, you were saying in effect that she had no authority to tell you what to do. Is that not right?"
He felt the skewer of her implacable will piercing him. He wriggled helplessly.
"Ye . . yes, Miss Strang."
Her voice was quiet and calm.
"And do you know why that is such a grievous sin, John?"
He looked down.
Then, I will tell you. And stand up straight. It is because God has arranged the world in an ordered way. So that we can all live happily together. Each of us has to know our place in God's world. To obey those set above us and to care for and minister to those beneath us. God's authority and rule run through everything. Do you understand?"
He nodded bleakly.
"So in rejecting Mrs Mountfield's right to rule over you, you were rejecting God's order for the world. You acted as though everything was to be arranged for your convenience. According to your whim."
She paused, looking at the shrunken boy before her.
"And as I have explained, John, this is no mere peccadillo. No small matter that can be corrected with a childish spanking across a governess's knee. Nor is it a single lapse. Mrs Mountfield has stressed it has been a frequent occurrence over the past year."
She raised her eyebrows.
"Well?"
"I . . I'm sorry, Miss Strang."
"Take three stones from the basin and place them in the scales."
As he did so she marked the list before her.
"So let us proceed. What has Mrs Mountfield written next."
She glanced down and studied the list.
"Unhelpfulness. Chores not done. And again she has printed VERY FREQUENT."
She looked at him.
"So Mrs Mountfield asked you to assist with various tasks over the year, and you failed to comply. Why was that?"
He bit his lip.
"Be . . because I didn't want to."
"That is hardly an answer to my question, John. It merely tells me that you refused to help. That I know already. But why did you refuse? If you asked someone to help you and they refused, what would you think?"
"That . . that . . . "
His voice tailed off and he looked down.
"Well, would you think they were thoughtful and generous and an example to others?"
She waited.
"Well?"
"No . . . Miss Strang."
"No. I am sure you would not. And what do we call a boy who is more concerned with pleasing himself than in helping others?"
She looked at him, her eyebrows raised expectantly.
"Well?"
"I . . . I'm not sure, Miss Strang."
"Then let me help. I would describe such a boy as selfish. What do you think?"
He swallowed.
"Yes, Miss Strang."
"So you agree. You were thoughtless and selfish."
He nodded, miserably.
"I do not want a nod of the head, John. I want to hear a clear yes or no. Were you thoughtless and selfish?"
He cleared his throat.
"Yes, Miss Strang."
"Yes what, John."
"Yes, I was thoughtless and selfish . . . Miss Strang."
"And what do you think needs to happen to a boy who is thoughtless and selfish?"
She looked at me.
"What do you think, Livia?"
I felt like a small child being led by the hand to witness the auto da fe of some heretic during the time of the inquisition.
"I . . . I think he needs to be taught not to be so . . . so thoughtless and selfish."
"I am sure he does, Livia. And how is that best achieved, do you think?"
"By punishing him, Miss Strang."
She turned back to my brother.
"Yes, John. By punishing him. By applying the rod to his soft, selfish flesh."
She paused.
"And I will not countenance a boy staring at the floor when I am speaking to him."
He raised his head. His eyes were brimming with tears. She reached into her pocket and took out a handkerchief. She put her arm around him and drawing him close, wiped his eyes.
(To be continued)