18. Settling In
Chapter 18
Settling In
T he next day, we all woke up, got dressed, ate our breakfast, and went to work.
When arriving at Granger Hall, I was met immediately by Mr. Hunnicutt.
“Did you hear of this new professor in our midst?” he asked. “He is a former clergyman of some sort, who left his profession, uprooted his family from the South and have decamped to this town. Now, he has joined our staff, and will teach a range of classes that include ecclesiastic architecture.”
“Would he, by any chance, be a Mr. Hale from Helstone?” I asked, removing my bonnet, coat, and scarf, to prepare for the day.
“You do know of him? Oh, and I was very much hoping to be the one to give you the news.”
“You have been beaten for weeks. I knew this because I traveled to Milton with them. Mr. Hale’s daughter is one of my closest friends, so I am well acquainted with Mr. Hale.”
“Oh. What sort of man is he?”
“You may set your heart at rest. He is a very kind and steady man.”
“But to uproot his entire family and move to Milton, is very strange behavior.”
“It was a matter of conscience. There were certain things that he was ordered to do that he did not believe in.”
“Such as?”
“I will say no more than that,” I refused to elaborate, “for that is his story to tell. But I would not have any negative word spread about them. Everyone has the right to change their lives and make a new way for themselves when they are being true to their principles.”
“You think me to be a gossip?”
“I think no such thing, Mr. Hunnicutt,” I said, removing my portable desk, “I just know that you are curious. In the same fashion that everyone is in this world. But I will not leave you in suspense and would rather set your mind at ease. He is a gentle man who was not thrown out from his home and cast onto an industrial town. He walked away from something of his own choosing, out of desire to make his own life. After all, don’t we all want to be free eventually?”
“I suppose so. Or perhaps he’s reached that stage in his life that most men undergo.”
“What?”
“Sometimes, a man reaches a time in his life where he questions everything around him, wondering where he was going and where he hasn’t been. And then he is stricken by some sort of crisis, where he realizes that he has not had a large effect on the world, and he must change that. So, he gets up, he gets out, and he has this dramatic shift. Some men act on it. Other men don’t. And then there are the other men.”
“And what do those men do?”
“Drink. Then they dream. Then they drink again. Then they dream again.”
I laughed.
“That’s how men are like?”
“Oh, you have no idea. Every now and again, we men reach an age where there’s a chance that we get stricken by some sort of crisis, and we must change who we are.”
“I suppose, no matter how hard I try, I will never fully understand the minds of man.”
“We are an ancient race. But that does not make us any easier or difficult to comprehend over time.”
“So, who am I taking notes for today?” I asked.
“Mr. Hanley.”
I was apprehensive and Hunnicutt noticed.
“What is that look for?”
“Well, yesterday he had to be put into an awkward position of defending me against his fellow professor. When you owe a person that much, it can be discomforting.”
“Never fear, he will act like it never happened. I’d advise you to do the same.”
“Really?”
“It’s the best thing you can do for him. We live in a world where gratitude can embarrass people.”
“Do you ever notice how backwards that is?”
“Oh yes. Every gray-colored day.”
Mr. Hanley taught two classes in one day. This was as a result of his popularity in subject matter. Hanley also specialized in the history of engineering and technological advancement. What was even more important was his ability to understand his subject matter. He didn’t just list things, but rather, he clearly had a knowledge of how the technology worked. The first class was focused on the railway system, starting with the very first engineer to design the initial models. He also touched on the resistance that was met when the railway system was adapted into culture. Not just from the British perspective, but also the non-British one. Trains were something that all cultures were a little hesitant to engage in.
“Those who look forward to technological advancement and achievement were eager for the railroad system to be adapted into their cultures,” he finalized, “but others feared the repercussions of humanity moving too quickly. Thus, it presents the fact of life…even when progress will help humanity move forward, people will always fear the most inevitable and forever moving thing: change. It drives fear in them that we all cannot imagine. Anything that lends itself toward the different, the unfamiliar, will be met with resistance. After all, to coin a phrase: the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t. Technology, in this century, has proven that no matter how fast humanity goes, no matter how far we drive ourselves, we WILL persevere. The evolution of engineering can be regarded as a metaphor for the evolution of man. It will happen. Therefore, what does this tell you? Sometimes change is for the better and you must support it. Sometimes change is for the worse and you must fight it. Don’t fear all change ignorantly. History has a way of punishing such prejudice. See change for what it is, and when others fear it, do not hate them. Give them time to catch up to you. Be like the train: move forward and when people are ready to get on, let them on and take them and they’ll go where they are needed. Here ends the lesson.”
The students clearly admired him.
His next class was on the engineering of recorded sound. It focused on the evolution of thephonautograph,which was the earliest known device for recording sound . Previously, tracings had been obtained of the sound-producing vibratory motions of tuning forks and other objects by physical contact with them, but not of actual soundwaves as they propagated through air or other mediums. It was invented by Frenchman édouard-Léon Scott de Martinville , and was patented on March 25, 1857. It transcribed sound waves as undulations or other deviations in a line traced on smoke-blackened paper or glass.
When I had took notes for his first class, he never even bothered to look at it. But at the end of the second class, he came up to me to analyze my work. When he did, his tone was simple and direct.
“That will do.”
I knew that was his way of an intense compliment.
“Thank you. You are a very good instructor. Your students love you.”
“Oh,” he replied, growing bashful. Removing his spectacles, he rubbed his eyes, nervous. “Well, um—thank you.”
Typical! He really had no idea how to take a compliment.
“Uncle Virge!”
We turned and it was little Molly Gibson? 1 .
With a chaperone behind her, she had entered the hall apprehensively. When I turned to her, her face brightened up.
“Molly!” I said, jumping up. Seeing my approachable manner, she rushed up to me. Surprised at her eagerness, I laughed. Bending down on the floor, I opened my arms and she rushed into them, wrapping her hands around my neck.
I picked her up and held her.
“And how do you do today, little one?” I asked.
“I woke up today with a stomachache.”
“Oh, you poor thing. Does it still hurt?”
“It’s better now, thank you.”
“I hate it when I have to wake up to that feeling. That and headaches.”
“I hate those too. And toothaches.”
“Oh, those are the worst!”
I was prepared to set her down to get my desk, but Mr. Hanley had done it for me. Seeing both of us looking so happy, he offered to carry all my belongings back to the office while I carried little Molly along the way.
As I followed behind him, Molly told me about how she almost made a friend this week, but she never saw the child again. When I asked if she had any children her age to play with, she said that she had none.
When we exited the hall, we were met by Margaret Hale, who had come to meet me there.
“Look, Molly,” I remarked, “Margaret comes to see us.”
“Miss Hale!” Molly laughed.
“Molly,” Margaret greeted her. “We meet again.”
I set Molly down and egged her on.
“Run to Margaret,” I encouraged, “go on. Fe fi fo fum!”
Molly ran to Margaret, who picked her up and held her as well.
“And how does the little princess do?” Margaret asked.
“I’m not a princess,” Molly replied.
“Yes, you are.”
“Really? Uncle Virge, did you hear? I’m a princess.”
“Yes,” Mr. Hanley replied, bashful. “Yes, you are.”
We escorted them to Mr. Hanley’s office. I put everything away, we said farewell to the uncle and his niece and left for home.
1 ? Molly Gibson is named after the heroine from Elizabeth Gaskell’s other main novel: Wives and Daughters.