Matilda
or
The
Barbadoes Girl
by:
Mrs. Barbara Hoole Hofland6
(excerpts
of Chapter 1)
One Evening, as Mr. Harewood was
sitting in the midst of his amiable and happy family, he announced to them his
expectation of receiving soon the daughter (Matilda) of a deceased friend, who, after
residing some years in the West Indies, had fallen a victim to the diseases
incident to the climate.
This
family consisted of his lady, two sons, and a daughter; the eldest, named Edmund
was about twelve years of age; Charles, the second, was scarcely ten; and Ellen,
the daughter, had just passed her eighth birthday: they were all sensible,
affectionate children, but a little different in disposition, the eldest being
grave and studious, the second lively and active; and as he was nearer to
Ellen’s age, she was often inclined to romp with him when she should have
minded her book; but she was so fond of her mamma, and was educated with such a
proper sense of the duty and obedience she owed her, that a word or a look never
failed to restrain the exuberance of her spirits, and lead her into the path of
propriety.
(Sir
Peabody: let us skip ahead a little here, the meat of
the matter really begins in chapter 2; chapter 1 is merely an introduction of the Harewoods)
Chapter
II (excerpts)
At
length the long-wished for day arrived and the young foreigner (Matilda) made her
appearance in the family of Mr. Harewood. She
was a fine, handsome-looking girl, and though younger, in fact, was taller and
older-looking than Ellen, but was not nearly so well shaped, as indolence and
the habit of being carried about, instead of walking, had occasioned her to
stoop, and to move as if her limbs were too weak to support her.
The kindness and politeness with which she was received in the family of Mr. Harewood did not appear to affect the Barbadoes girl in any other way than to increase that self-importance which was evidently her characteristic; and even the mild, affectionate Ellen, who had predisposed her heart to love her very dearly , shrunk from the proud and haughty expression which frequently animated her features, and was surprised to hear her name her mamma with as much indifference as if she were a common acquaintance . . .
(Sir
Peabody: from this description, it is already evident
Matilda lacks manners, but Madame Befuddled, it is sadly worse than this little
passage gives way. Just look at her
behavior on page 9--utterly appalling!)
On
the family being seated at the dinner-table, Miss Hanson (Matilda) called out,
in a loud and angry tone--”Give me some beer!”
Mr.
Harewood had previously instructed the servant who waited upon them how to act,
in case he was thus addressed, and in consequence of his master’s commands,
the man took no notice whatever of this claim upon his attention.
“Give
me some beer!” cried she again, in so fierce a manner that the boys started,
and poor Ellen blushed very deeply, not only from the sense of shame which she
felt for the vulgarity of the young lady’s manners, but from a kind of terror
on hearing such a shrill and threatening voice.
The
servant still took no notice of her words, but he did not do it with an air of
defiance, but rather as if it were not addressed to him.
The
little angry child muttered loud enough to be heard, “What a fool the wretch
is!”--but as nobody answered what was in fact addressed to no one, she was at
length compelled to look for redress to Mrs. Harewood, whom, regarding with a
mixture of rage and scorn, she now addressed.
“Pray,
ma’am, why don’t you tell the man to give me some beer?
I suppose he’ll understand you, though he seems a fool and deaf.”
“My
children are accustomed to say, ‘Pray, Thomas, give me some beer,’ or,
‘I’ll thank you for a little beer;’ and the loud, rude manner in which you
spoke, probably astonished and stunned him; as, however, I certainly understand
you, I will endeavor to relieve you--Pray, Thomas, be so kind as to give Miss
Hanson son beer,” said Mrs. Harewood.
Thomas
instantly offered it, but the little girl cried out in a rage--”I won’t have
it--no! that I won’t, from that man; I’ll have my own negro wait, that I
will! Must I say pray to a servant?
must a nasty man in a livery be kind to me?
no! no! no!--Zebby, Zebby, I say, come here!”
(Sir
Peabody: And so the little transaction occurred, Zebby
brought Matilda some beer and attempted excuses for her small master, trying to
explain how extremely spoiled she had been.
Mr. Harewood then determined Zebby, a slave bought for Matilda when she
was born, would no longer be under Matilda’s care.
Matilda grew into a passion and ran from the room.
Later, on page 17 she returns to the dinner table to find her plate
cleared and quite alarming conversation.)
(Matilda:)
“Pray, what did your papa say of me?”
(Ellen:)
That you were very much to be pitied.”
“Pitied!
pray, what am I to be pitied for?”
Ellen
blushed very deeply; she could not answer a question which called down confusion
on the head of her who asked it: one too whom she was inclined to love, and
whose petulance towards herself, however unprovoked, she had already forgiven;
she looked wistfully in the face of her mamma, who replied for her--
“We
all think you are very much to be pitied, because you are evidently a poor,
little, forlorn, ignorant child, without friends, and under the dominion of
cruel enemy that renders you so frightful it is scarcely possible for even the
most humane people to treat you with kindness, or even endure you.”
(Sir
Peabody: And to think all because Matilda had been
spoiled. Well,
as Zebby said on page 13,
after Matilda ran from the room:)
Poor
Zebby, curtseying, said--”Sir, me hopes you will have much pity on Missy--she
was spoily all her life by poor massa--her mamma good, very good; and when Missy
pinch Zebby, and pricky with pin, then good Mississ she be angry, but massa say
only poo, poo, she be child, naughty tricks wear off in time . . .”
(Sir
Peabody: Unfortunately such naughtiness does not wear off with time. It is
lucky for Matilda the Harewoods got her when they did.)