Miss Strang Chapter 91

By Governess

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This story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced nudity, spanking, and sexual activity of preteen and young teen children for the purpose of punishment. None of the behaviors in this story should be attempted in real life. If you are not of legal age in your community to read or view such material, please leave now.

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Chapter 91

“I am most interested in your talk to the Mothers’ Union, Mrs Innes. And curious as to how you applied the Scripture passage you chose. Can you tell me more?”

“Certainly, Miss Strang. It was the third in a series of talks I’ve been giving on Raising Children in the Lord. I was shocked, Miss Strang, when I first came into this parish over ten years ago. I found there were members of the Mothers’ Union who were failing to obey the Biblical injunction to chastise their children. Happily, that is no longer the case. But it’s still necessary to remind mothers, and particularly new mothers, of the need for proper and effective discipline. And of the benefits that flow from that.

“The talk I gave this month was to show how the rod of correction is a means to the child’s acquiring a meekness of spirit and true humility. And, of course, I had first to make very clear that meekness of spirit and true humility are not the natural birth right of any child. As Saint Augustine said even babies scream with rage, and envy another child at the breast. Some will excuse that because the child doesn’t yet understand that such behaviour is wrong. But it is wrong. And it is sinful. For a child is conceived in sin and shapen in iniquity.”

“Indeed, Mrs Innes. Envy and screaming are not suddenly wrong because the child has reached a certain age. And before that were perfectly acceptable.”

“No, they are always wrong. And it is the role of parents to teach the child they are wrong and to do that through correction and punishment.

“And I explained that when it comes to rearing our children we are given an authority over them akin to the authority God has over the world. And that in the small world of the family we are as God to our children, and have a complete and unfettered rule over them. And that God-given authority is conferred equally on both father and mother.”

“Equally, Mrs Innes? There are many who believe a mother’s authority over her children derives from the father and that she exercises that under a delegation from him.”

“I know, Miss Strang. But I believe they are wrong. God has conferred on men and women different gifts and different responsibilities. And each needs to respect the God given gifts of the other. The mother has a unique role in raising and disciplining her children from the earliest years. And that continues until girls fully mature into young women, and until boys’ voices break. After that a boy should expect to be disciplined, and disciplined severely, by his father. But even then, if the father is absent, the mother retains her authority to administer the rod if necessary.”

She smiled.

“An anxious mother recently questioned me on how that was possible with a big vigorous boy.”

“And how did you reply, Mrs Innes?”

“I said that if a boy has been whipped by his mother from his earliest years he should be schooled in presenting himself for the rod without resistance. However, should he withdraw his co-operation, he should be told he can either comply immediately or his punishment will be doubled in severity and deferred to a time of her choosing. And then, like Napoleon’s mother, she should seize an opportunity when the boy is vulnerable and easily shamed and mastered.”

“Like Napoleon’s mother, Mrs Innes?”

“Yes. She was a formidable Corsican mother and was determined to correct her son even though big and strong. She waited until she knew he was in a state of undress and then entered his room with a birch. In the face of her determination he soon submitted. And she flogged him within an inch of his life. What mothers need to understand, Miss Strang, is that when a boy has been consistently and severely chastised from his earliest years, he continues to see himself as that small child whose transgressions are punished over a mother’s knee. His impudence is little more than a thin veneer that may be stripped away with implacable resolve and harsh reprimand.”

Although face to the wall, I knew that there was a smile on her lips as she added,

“Particularly if like Madame Bonaparte you choose your moment.”

She tapped the Bible open on her lap.

“So the first thing we read in this scripture from St Peter is that we should expect all those who are subject to our God-given rule to be submissive. And not only to us, but also to one another. The Apostle says, All of you be submissive to one another, and be clothed with humility. So we should insist that children respect each other; that they don’t quarrel and that don’t abuse one another. But what we must insist upon above all else, Miss Strang, is an unquestioning submission to those set in authority over them.”

She cleared her throat.

“Then, we considered the nature of humility. And that is quite simple. It is the same for children as for adults. It is not asserting your will against others; not claiming rights and privileges at the expense of others.”

There was a pause.

“But, of course, that is what children, borne as they are in sin, do all the time. They refuse to share; they demand their mother’s attention, especially when she is tending to another child; and they complain and sulk when they cannot get it. They will even tell untruths to get another child into trouble. And why? Because children are small proud creatures, Miss Strang. Small proud creatures who value themselves more highly than others. And what do we read in this scripture from St Peter? That God resists the proud. And so should a mother resist pride in her children. For pride is the enemy of humility. And whenever a child pushes himself to the fore, whenever he claims something exclusively for himself, that is pride.”

“Indeed, Mrs Innes, as the Scripture makes clear most, if not all, sin is rooted in pride.”

“Yes, Miss Strang. Disobedience itself is a form of pride. When a child disobeys, he is elevating his judgement over yours. He is proudly asserting himself against your rule. And if we are faithful to the authority God has bestowed upon us, then we will resist that. Resist it in faithfulness to His command. For we ourselves, as this scripture tells us, are to humble ourselves under the mighty hand of God.

“And if God resists pride with a mighty hand, so should we, Miss Strang. We read in St Paul’s Epistle to the Hebrews that it is a terrible thing to fall into the hands of the living God. And for a disobedient child it should be a terrible thing to fall into the hands of his mother. We are told by the Psalmist that the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom. And in the family, wisdom is rooted in a child’s fear of his mother. Not a craven fear, but a healthy fear that respects her right to discipline him and punish wrongdoing. And he fears it because it is inevitable and because it is severely painful.”

“I cannot agree more, Mrs Innes. And I firmly believe such God-given authority is also conferred on a governess when she is appointed to a Christian family. But in your talk how did you develop the theme of humiliation leading to true humility? Some might question that.”

“Yes, I am sure they might, Miss Strang. But they would be wrong. A child needs to understand that disobedient behaviour is utterly shameful. And the way to do that is to ensure it has deeply shameful consequences. When a disobedient child stands before me, he knows more is to be stripped from him than his nether garments. And as the birch wears away the skin of his bottom, I am also wearing away the much harder skin of his pride and his determination to outlast me. Some may think that degrading. And so it is. And rightly so. It lowers him in his own eyes and in the eyes of others. In his pride, he considers himself an independent being who has the right to determine his own life and make his own choices. But in truth he is subject to the will and determination of his mother in all things. And it is this unpalatable fact that a good birching brings home to him.”

“Yes, Mrs Innes. But in my experience, it is a long and demanding process. A boy’s self-will has the tenacity and vigour of a bramble patch. It needs to be beaten and cut back again and again. A boy needs to be routinely whipped, shamed and humiliated, until at long last he begins to accept the need to rest humbly in the will of the one whom God has set in authority over him.”

“Yes, Miss Strang. The hard skin of self-will may be flayed off, but like the skin of his bottom it renews itself. It needs to be regularly flayed and stripped away. The process of lowering a child’s false estimation of his own worth is, as you say, time-consuming, but it’s essential and must not be shirked. Eventually it bears fruit.”

There was a pause, and I sensed a smile.

“Without wishing to be proud myself, I think I can safely say that my children are testimony to that. Just look at Rachel. A most wilful child. But over the years, she has developed into the selfless woman she now is. Assisting at the Reformatory. And making sure that there, too, the humiliation of the rod is never withheld.

“Do you know, Miss Strang, in the early days of the Mothers’ Union here, there were mothers who sought to avoid humiliating their children? They would refuse to bare a child’s buttocks; they would refrain from displaying the implement of correction where others might see it; they would refuse to speak in the child’s presence about the whippings he had received. But no longer, Miss Strang. They all now accept that humiliation is as essential part of a child’s discipline, and that from it, with steady perseverance on their part, true humility will grow.”

“I cannot tell you, Mrs Innes, how that delights me. And how it strengthens my resolve to deal faithfully with the boys I will be tutoring from the Orphanage.”

“Well, thank you, Miss Strang. You are most generous. But we cannot leave Arbuthnot, there, cooling her bottom. There is work for her to do.”

I sensed her eyes upon me.

“Turn round Arbuthnot. And down on your knees.”

I turned and knelt with my head inclined. Not so much from shame as from a disinclination to look at my tormentress.

“Were you listening to my conversation with Miss Strang, Arbuthnot?”

I hesitated uncertain whether it had been wrong to listen. But to deny doing so seemed foolish.

“Yes, Mrs . . . Ma’am.”

“And what did you learn from it?”

“That . . . that a girl needs to be humble.”

“Yes. A girl needs to be humble at all times. But that was not the burden of our conversation was it? What Miss Strang and I were discussing was how a child is best taught to be humble. And how is that best done? ”

“By . . . by shaming her . . . Ma’am.”

“Yes, Arbuthnot. By shaming her. And what did I say would happen to you, if you didn’t mend your ways? Well?”

“I . . . I . . . can’t quite remember, Ma’am.”

“I have to say, Arbuthnot, that a girl with a memory as poor as that isn’t going to fare very well in this household. What I said was that like Benson you would soon be going without your knickers. Do you remember that?”

I bit my lip.

“Yes . . . Ma’am.”

“And why is Benson denied knickers?”

“So, you can spank her when she needs it . . . Ma’am.”

“No, Arbuthnot. Spank her when I choose to do so, whether there is cause or not. Just remember that.”

She walked over to the bell and rang it. In a moment, there was a knock at the door and the girl Hankey entered.

“Hankey, hand Arbuthnot her knickers and rearrange her dress. And then take her to the kitchen and see if Cook has some simple repetitive task for her to perform. Peeling potatoes and vegetables for dinner would be ideal. And if the scullery needs scrubbing she can do that, too. And tell Cook that I want her to be knocking at my dressing room door at five o’clock. Not a minute before or a minute after.”

Hankey curtsied.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

And you will curtsey before you go, Arbuthnot. And give thanks.”

“Thank you Ma’am.”

I was led through a series of passages to the kitchen, and as we did so, we passed the girl Benson on her knees scrubbing the stone flagged floor. And it was obvious from the way the material of her dress clung to her bottom cheeks that she was bare beneath. The girl Hankey said nothing to her, and as we passed a door she opened it and ushered me into a small closet. It was lit from a small window high up on the wall.

“That girl Benson is so stupid. If she goes on like she does, she’ll soon have no skin left on her bottom. But look, I just wanted to say, I’ve rescued your doll. I could see you were attached to her. But keep her hidden or we’ll both be in terrible trouble. I’m Emily by the way. I’m not from the Orphanage. My father died when I was ten and then my mother a year ago. I’m from the village. They were sending me to the Orphanage, but Mr Innes insisted I came here as a parlour maid.”

“Yes, I heard Mr Innes call you Emily when we arrived. And thank you so much for saving Amanda. But I’ll be sleeping in a room next to Mrs Innes so I’m not sure where I can put her so she’s safe.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll slip into you room and put her under your pillow. You’ll have to make your own bed and change it, so nobody’s going to find her. But she does look rather old.”

“She is old. I had her when I was four. But thank you for rescuing her. I do hope you don’t get into trouble over it.”

Emily gave a wry smile.

“I hope so, too. But at the moment, the Mistress’s taken up with Benson. So I hope it’ll be all right. And I hope you don’t hold it against me for helping the Mistress to cane you. You’ll soon see you don’t argue with the Mistress if you know what’s good for you. But we’d better get to the kitchen or Mrs Albright will ask questions. The mistress calls her the cook, but she manages the whole household under her direction.”

The kitchen was large and full of the usual cupboards and utensil racks and with several sinks. At one end was a large range beside which sat a coal scuttle.

“So you’re the new girl, are you? What’s your name?

“Arbuthnot, Ma’am.”

She gave a smirking laugh.

“Ma’am is what you call the Mistress, girl. I’m Mrs Albright to you. And we’ll use your Christian name down here. You do have a Christian name, I suppose?”

“Yes, Mrs Albright. It’s Livia.”

“And what sort of name’s that for an Orphanage girl?”

“Please, Mrs Albright, I’m not from the Orphanage.”

“What another of the Master’s hand-picked girls? Is that it?”

“No, Mrs Albright. I was sent her by . . . by my father. As . . . as a punishment.”

“Well my girl, count yourself lucky you’re not a boy or he might have sent you to the Reformatory. Not that you’ll have an easy time here. Not with Miss Rachel. She works at the Reformatory and if you’re here to be punished, I’ll wager she’ll have a hand in it.”

She looked at Emily.

“So what do you know about it, Emily Hankey? You seem to be her bosom companion.”

“Please, Mrs Albright, the Mistress said she was to prepare vegetables and then do some scrubbing. But she’s to go to the Mistress’s dressing room at five o’clock sharp.”

And with that I was set to work on the potatoes, carrots and parsnips for dinner that evening. And then made to scrub the scullery. It was called the scullery but in fact it was a large stone-flagged store with shelves around it and a large cupboard at one end. I recalled Mr and Mrs Innes’s discussion about the birching table and guessed that this was the place where it was to be located.

It was half past four o’clock when I had finished the scrubbing and my knees were sore from kneeling. I rose like an old woman and stretched my legs.

“So you’ve finished, have you? Let me see.”

Mrs Albright pushed me toward the scullery and followed after me. She bent down and wiped a finger over the floor and examined it.

“Mmm, not bad for a start. But just look between some of those flags. There’s dirt there. If the Mistress had set you to do that, she’s be far from pleased. And so would you, when she’d finished with you.”

She led me back into the kitchen. Well you’ve a few minutes before you have to go upstairs. When you do, I’ll get Emily to show you the way. It won’t do to be late on your first day. Or any day come to that. The Mistress is a great stickler for punctuality. You see what’s on the back on the door?”

“Yes, Mrs Albright.”

“And you know what that is?”

“Yes, Mrs Albright. It’s a cane.”

“Yes. And it’s not there for decoration. It’s there as a warning of what happens to girls who are disobedient and slipshod or who displease the Mistress. And believe me, the Mistress is easily displeased.”

“D . . . do you use it, Mrs Albright.”

“Yes, my girl. I do. Don’t I Violet? ”

“Yes, Mrs Albright.”

“Violet’s my kitchen maid. But all punishments here are under the Mistress’s direction. As you’d expect in a well regulated household. You see that book there. I keep a record of misbehaviour in that book. Not just Violet’s but of all the domestics. And on a Friday the Mistress sits down with me and goes through the entries for the week. If there’s an entry for Violet she will question me how I dealt with it and if there have been two entries in as many weeks, she’ll probably insist on an additional punishment. Last week she had Violet kneeling for two hours on the stone flags with a straight back and no supper to follow. The parlour maids are punished by the Mistress and no one else. Usually it’s four o’clock on a Friday when the slate’s wiped clean. Of course, anything that comes to the Mistress’s attention during the week is dealt with there and then. And I understand she’s a nice little routine in place for Amy Benson. And so she should. If ever a girl needed discipline it’s that girl. But look at the time.”

She put her head around the door and called for Emily.

“Take Livia up to the Mistress’s dressing room, Emily. I don’t want her being late on her first day.”

I knocked at the door, and on a curt ‘enter’, stepped over the threshold. Mrs Innes was seated on a stool in front of her dressing table, on which could be seen the usual items of a lady’s toilet.

“Stand over there, Arbuthnot.”

I watched as she inserted into her ears the marcasite earrings that she had worn on her visit to my father’s house.

“Well, Arbuthnot, are you familiar with the duties of a lady’s maid?”

“No, Ma’am.”

She shook her head.

“A lady’s maid removes her mistress’s clothing at the end of the day and brushes and cleans it. If anything needs mending, she attends to that. She will be told by her mistress what clothes she proposes to wear the following day and she lays them out the following morning. Can you do that?”

“I . . . I think so, Ma’am.”

“Thinking is not enough, Arbuthnot. That is what I expect of you and that is what you will do. And to a high standard.”

She adjusted one of her earrings.

“And a traditional lady’s maid holds herself ready to do whatever her mistress demands. So please remember that.”

She paused.

“And should you fall short in any of the tasks you are set, you will be punished. Sometimes a girl falls short for reasons that are acceptable and she is without blame. But that is rare. Most girls fall short because of a moral failure. A lack of effort. Laziness. And above all, pride. But those can be beaten out of a girl. As dust and grime are beaten out of a carpet.”

She looked at me and I held her gaze.

“And do you know why beating is such an effective remedy, Arbuthnot?”

”No, Ma’am. I’ve no idea.”

She tilted her head back and said nothing for a moment, narrowing her eyes.

“Then let me enlighten you, Miss. A girl fails because she is absorbed in her own little world of fripperies and vanity. And only the rod drives her out of that world to face the harsh realities of life. It cuts into her flesh, and forces her to bend her stubborn neck and to submit to an authority outside herself. And don’t forget you have been sent here by your father as an alternative to the Reformatory. And your treatment will reflect that.”

She paused.

“However, your qualifications for a lady’s maid are sadly lacking. At the moment you will do whatever I tell you however menial it may be. And for a start, you will keep this room and your room not only clean and tidy but utterly immaculate. And you will keep both rooms like that all the time. And if on inspection, I find a speck of dust or a small cobweb anywhere you will be whipped. Do you understand, Arbuthnot?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

And I curtsied.

(to be continued)

(The End)