One of Mrs. Pipchin’s favourite methods of coercing, or taming, or child-quelling was to send children to bed.
“The best thing you can do is to take off your things and go to bed this minute.” This was the sagacious woman’s remedy for all complaints, particularly lowness of spirits and inability to sleep; for which offence many young victims in the days of the Brighton Castle had been committed to bed at ten o’clock in the morning.
Another assault on coercion was made in Dombey and Son in the brief description of the Grinders’ school.
Biler’s life had been rendered weary by the costume of the Charitable Grinders. The youth of the streets could not endure it. No young vagabond could be brought to bear its contemplation for a moment without throwing himself upon the unoffending wearer and doing him a mischief. His social existence had been more like that of an early Christian than an innocent child of the nineteenth century. He had been stoned in the streets. He had been overthrown into gutters; bespattered with mud; violently flattened against posts. Entire strangers to his person had lifted his yellow cap off his head and cast it to the winds. His legs had not only undergone verbal criticism and revilings, but had been handled and pinched. That very morning he had received a perfectly unsolicited black eye on his way to the Grinders’ establishment, and had been punished for it by the master: a superannuated old Grinder of savage disposition, who had been appointed schoolmaster because he didn’t know anything and wasn’t fit for anything, and for whose cruel cane all chubby little boys had a perfect fascination.
Poor Biler went wrong, and when he was taken to task for it by Mr. Carker he gave his theory to account for the fact that he had not done better at school.
“You’re a nice young gentleman!” said Mr. Carker, shaking his head at him. “There’s hemp-seed sown for you, my fine fellow!”
“I’m sure, sir,” returned the wretched Biler, blubbering again, and again having recourse to his coat cuff: “I shouldn’t care, sometimes, if it was growed too. My misfortunes all began in wagging, sir, but what could I do, exceptin’ wag?”
“Excepting what?” said Mr. Carker.
“Wag, sir. Wagging from school.”
“Do you mean pretending to go there, and not going?” said Mr. Carker.