CHAPTER I
Chiswick Mall
Ā Ā While the present century was in its teens, and on
one sunshiny morning in June, there drove up to the great iron gate
of Miss Pinkerton's academy for young ladies, on Chiswick Mall, a
large family coach, with two fat horses in blazing harness, driven
by a fat coachman in a three-cornered hat and wig, at the rate of
four miles an hour. A black servant, who reposed on the box beside
the fat coachman, uncurled his bandy legs as soon as the equipage
drew up opposite Miss Pinkerton's shining brass plate, and as he
pulled the bell at least a score of young heads were seen peering
out of the narrow windows of the stately old brick house. Nay, the
acute observer might have recognized the little red nose of
good-natured Miss Jemima Pinkerton herself, rising over some
geranium pots in the window of that lady's own drawing-room.
Ā Ā āIt is Mrs. Sedley's coach, sister, ā said Miss
Jemima. āSambo, the black servant, has just rung the bell; and the
coachman has a new red waistcoat. ā
Ā Ā āHave you completed all the necessary preparations
incident to Miss Sedley's departure, Miss Jemima? ā asked Miss
Pinkerton herself, that majestic lady; the Semiramis of
Hammersmith, the friend of Doctor Johnson, the correspondent of
Mrs. Chapone herself.
Ā Ā āThe girls were up at four this morning, packing her
trunks, sister, ā replied Miss Jemima; āwe have made her a bow-pot.
ā
Ā Ā āSay a bouquet, sister Jemima, 'tis more genteel.
ā
Ā Ā āWell, a booky as big almost as a haystack; I have
put up two bottles of the gillyflower water for Mrs. Sedley, and
the receipt for making it, in Amelia's box. ā
Ā Ā āAnd I trust, Miss Jemima, you have made a copy of
Miss Sedley's account. This is it, is it? Very goodā ninety-three
pounds, four shillings. Be kind enough to address it to John
Sedley, Esquire, and to seal this billet which I have written to
his lady. ā
Ā Ā In Miss Jemima's eyes an autograph letter of her
sister, Miss Pinkerton, was an object of as deep veneration as
would have been a letter from a sovereign. Only when her pupils
quitted the establishment, or when they were about to be married,
and once, when poor Miss Birch died of the scarlet fever, was Miss
Pinkerton known to write personally to the parents of her pupils;
and it was Jemima's opinion that if anything could console Mrs.
Birch for her daughter's loss, it would be that pious and eloquent
composition in which Miss Pinkerton announced the event.
Ā Ā In the present instance Miss Pinkerton's ābilletā
was to the following effect:ā
Ā Ā The Mall, Chiswick, June 15, 18
Ā Ā MADAM, ā After her six years' residence at the Mall,
I have the honour and happiness of presenting Miss Amelia Sedley to
her parents, as a young lady not unworthy to occupy a fitting
position in their polished and refined circle. Those virtues which
characterize the young English gentlewoman, those accomplishments
which become her birth and station, will not be found wanting in
the amiable Miss Sedley, whose INDUSTRY and OBEDIENCE have endeared
her to her instructors, and whose delightful sweetness of temper
has charmed her AGED and her YOUTHFUL companions.
Ā Ā In music, in dancing, in orthography, in every
variety of embroidery and needlework, she will be found to have
realized her friends' fondest wishes. In geography there is still
much to be desired; and a careful and undeviating use of the
backboard, for four hours daily during the next three years, is
recommended as necessary to the acquirement of that dignified
DEPORTMENT AND CARRIAGE, so requisite for every young lady of
FASHION.
Ā Ā In the principles of religion and morality, Miss
Sedley will be found worthy of an establishment which has been
honoured by the presence of THE GREAT LEXICOGRAPHER, and the
patronage of the admirable Mrs. Chapone. In leaving the Mall, Miss
Amelia carries with her the hearts of her companions, and the
affectionate regards of her mistress, who has the honour to
subscribe herself,
Ā Ā Madam, Your most obliged humble servant, BARBARA
PINKERTON
Ā Ā P. S. ā Miss Sharp accompanies Miss Sedley. It is
particularly requested that Miss Sharp's stay in Russell Square may
not exceed ten days. The family of distinction with whom she is
engaged, desire to avail themselves of her services as soon as
possible.
Ā Ā This letter completed, Miss Pinkerton proceeded to
write her own name, and Miss Sedley's, in the fly-leaf of a
Johnson's Dictionaryā the interesting work which she invariably
presented to her scholars, on their departure from the Mall. On the
cover was inserted a copy of āLines addressed to a young lady on
quitting Miss Pinkerton's school, at the Mall; by the late revered
Doctor Samuel Johnson. ā In fact, the Lexicographer's name was
always on the lips of this majestic woman, and a visit he had paid
to her was the cause of her reputation and her fortune.
Ā Ā Being commanded by her elder sister to get āthe
Dictionaryā from the cupboard, Miss Jemima had extracted two copies
of the book from the receptacle in question. When Miss Pinkerton
had finished the inscription in the first, Jemima, with rather a
dubious and timid air, handed her the second.
Ā Ā āFor whom is this, Miss Jemima? ā said Miss
Pinkerton, with awful coldness.
Ā Ā āFor Becky Sharp, ā answered Jemima, trembling very
much, and blushing over her withered face and neck, as she turned
her back on her sister. āFor Becky Sharp: she's going too. ā
Ā Ā āMISS JEMIMA! ā exclaimed Miss Pinkerton, in the
largest capitals. āAre you in your senses? Replace the Dixonary in
the closet, and never venture to take such a liberty in future.
ā
Ā Ā āWell, sister, it's only two-and-ninepence, and poor
Becky will be miserable if she don't get one. ā
Ā Ā āSend Miss Sedley instantly to me, ā said Miss
Pinkerton. And so venturing not to say another word, poor Jemima
trotted off, exceedingly flurried and nervous.
Ā Ā Miss Sedley's papa was a merchant in London, and a
man of some wealth; whereas Miss Sharp was an articled pupil, for
whom Miss Pinkerton had done, as she thought, quite enough, without
conferring upon her at parting the high honour of the Dixonary.
Ā Ā Although schoolmistresses' letters are to be trusted
no more nor less than churchyard epitaphs; yet, as it sometimes
happens that a person departs this life who is really deserving of
all the praises the stone cutter carves over his bones; who IS a
good Christian, a good parent, child, wife, or husband; who
actually DOES leave a disconsolate family to mourn his loss; so in
academies of the male and female sex it occurs every now and then
that the pupil is fully worthy of the praises bestowed by the
disinterested instructor. Now, Miss Amelia Sedley was a young lady
of this singular species; and deserved not only all that Miss
Pinkerton said in her praise, but had many charming qualities which
that pompous old Minerva of a woman could not see, from the
differences of rank and age between her pupil and herself.
Ā Ā For she could not only sing like a lark, or a Mrs.
Billington, and dance like Hillisberg or Parisot; and embroider
beautifully; and spell as well as a Dixonary itself; but she had
such a kindly, smiling, tender, gentle, generous heart of her own,
as won the love of everybody who came near her, from Minerva
herself down to the poor girl in the scullery, and the one-eyed
tart-woman's daughter, who was permitted to vend her wares once a
week to the young ladies in the Mall. She had twelve intimate and
bosom friends out of the twenty-four young ladies. Even envious
Miss Briggs never spoke ill of her; high and mighty Miss Saltire
(Lord Dexter's granddaughter) allowed that her figure was genteel;
and as for Miss Swartz, the rich woolly-haired mulatto from St.
Kitt's, on the day Amelia went away, she was in such a passion of
tears that they were obliged to send for Dr. Floss, and half
tipsify her with salvolatile. Miss Pinkerton's attachment was, as
may be supposed from the high position and eminent virtues of that
lady, calm and dignified; but Miss Jemima had already whimpered
several times at the idea of Amelia's departure; and, but for fear
of her sister, would have gone off in downright hysterics, like the
heiress (who paid double) of St. Kitt's. Such luxury of grief,
however, is only allowed to parlour-boarders. Honest Jemima had all
the bills, and the washing, and the mending, and the puddings, and
the plate and crockery, and the servants to superintend. But why
speak about her? It is probable that we shall not hear of her again
from this moment to the end of time, and that when the great
filigree iron gates are once closed on her, she and her awful
sister will never issue therefrom into this little world of
history.
Ā Ā But as we are to see a great deal of Amelia, there
is no harm in saying, at the outset of our acquaintance, that she
was a dear little creature; and a great mercy it is, both in life
and in novels, which (and the latter especially) abound in villains
of the most sombre sort, that we are to have for a constant
companion so guileless and good-natured a person. As she is not a
heroine, there is no need to describe her person; indeed I am
afraid that her nose was rather short than otherwise, and her
cheeks a great deal too round and red for a heroine; but her face
blushed with rosy health, and her lips with the freshest of smiles,
and she had a pair of eyes which sparkled with the brightest and
honestest good-humour, except indeed when they filled with tears,
and that was a great deal too often; for the silly thing would cry
over a dead canary-bird; or over a mouse, that the cat haply had
seized upon; or over the end of a novel, were it ever so stupid;
and as for saying an unkind word to her, were any persons
hard-hearted enough to do soā why, so much the worse for them. Even
Miss Pinkerton, that austere and godlike woman, ceased scolding her
after the first time, and though she no more comprehended
sensibility than she did Algebra, gave all masters and teachers
particular orders to treat Miss Sedley with the utmost gentleness,
as harsh treatment was injurious to her.
Ā Ā So that when the day of departure came, between her
two customs of laughing and crying, Miss Sedley was greatly puzzled
how to act. She was glad to go home, and yet most woefully sad at
leaving school. For three days before, little Laura Martin, the
orphan, followed her about like a little dog. She had to make and
receive at least fourteen presentsā to make fourteen solemn
promises of writing every week: āSend my letters under cover to my
grandpapa, the Earl of Dexter, ā said Miss Saltire (who, by the
way, was rather shabby). āNever mind the postage, but write every
day, you dear darling, ā said the impetuous and woolly-headed, but
generous and affectionate Miss Swartz; and the orphan little Laura
Martin (who was just in round-hand), took her friend's hand and
said, looking up in her face wistfully, āAmelia, when I write to
you I shall call you Mamma. ā All which details, I have no doubt,
JONES, who reads this book at his Club, will pronounce to be
excessively foolish, trivial, twaddling, and ultra-sentimental.
Yes; I can see Jones at this minute (rather flushed with his joint
of mutton and half pint of wine), taking out his pencil and scoring
under the words āfoolish, twaddling, ā and c. , and adding to them
his own remark of āQUITE TRUE. ā Well, he is a lofty man of genius,
and admires the great and heroic in life and novels; and so had
better take warning and go elsewhere.
Ā Ā Well, then. The flowers, and the presents, and the
trunks, and bonnet-boxes of Miss Sedley having been arranged by Mr.
Sambo in the carriage, together with a very small and
weather-beaten old cow's-skin trunk with Miss Sharp's card neatly
nailed upon it, which was delivered by Sambo with a grin, and
packed by the coachman with a corresponding sneerā the hour for
parting came; and the grief of that moment was considerably
lessened by the admirable discourse which Miss Pinkerton addressed
to her pupil. Not that the parting speech caused Amelia to
philosophise, or that it armed her in any way with a calmness, the
result of argument; but it was intolerably dull, pompous, and
tedious; and having the fear of her schoolmistress greatly before
her eyes, Miss Sedley did not venture, in her presence, to give way
to any ebullitions of private grief. A seed-cake and a bottle of
wine were produced in the drawing-room, as on the solemn occasions
of the visits of parents, and these refreshments being partaken of,
Miss Sedley was at liberty to depart.
Ā Ā āYou'll go in and say good-by to Miss Pinkerton,
Becky! ā said Miss Jemima to a young lady of whom nobody took any
notice, and who was coming downstairs with her own bandbox.
Ā Ā āI suppose I must, ā said Miss Sharp calmly, and
much to the wonder of Miss Jemima; and the latter having knocked at
the door, and receiving permission to come in, Miss Sharp advanced
in a very unconcerned manner, and said in French, and with a
perfect accent, āMademoiselle, je viens vous faire mes adieux.
ā
Ā Ā Miss Pinkerton did not understand French; she only
directed those who did: but biting her lips and throwing up her
venerable and Roman-nosed head (on the top of which figured a large
and solemn turban), she said, āMiss Sharp, I wish you a good
morning. ā As the Hammersmith Semiramis spoke, she waved one hand,
both by way of adieu, and to give Miss Sharp an opportunity of
shaking one of the fingers of the hand which was left out for that
purpose.
Ā Ā Miss Sharp only folded her own hands with a very
frigid smile and bow, and quite declined to accept the proffered
honour; on which Semiramis tossed up her turban more indignantly
than ever. In fact, it was a little battle between the young lady
and the old one, and the latter was worsted. āHeaven bless you, my
child, ā said she, embracing Amelia, and scowling the while over
the girl's shoulder at Miss Sharp. āCome away, Becky, ā said Miss
Jemima, pulling the young woman away in great alarm, and the
drawing-room door closed upon them for ever.
Ā Ā Then came the struggle and parting below. Words
refuse to tell it. All the servants were there in the hallā all the
dear friendā all the young ladiesā the dancing-master who had just
arrived; and there was such a scuffling, and hugging, and kissing,
and crying, with the hysterical YOOPS of Miss Swartz, the
parlour-boarder, from her room, as no pen can depict, and as the
tender heart would fain pass over. The embracing was over; they
partedā that is, Miss Sedley parted from her friends. Miss Sharp
had demurely entered the carriage some minutes before. Nobody cried
for leaving HER.
Ā Ā Sambo of the bandy legs slammed the carriage door on
his young weeping mistress. He sprang up behind the carriage.
āStop! ā cried Miss Jemima, rushing to the gate with a parcel.
Ā Ā āIt's some sandwiches, my dear, ā said she to
Amelia. āYou may be hungry, you know; and Becky, Becky Sharp,
here's a book for you that my sisterā that is, Iā Johnson's
Dixonary, you know; you mustn't leave us without that. Good-by.
Drive on, coachman. God bless you! ā
Ā Ā And the kind creature retreated into the garden,
overcome with emotion.
Ā Ā But, lo! and just as the coach drove off, Miss Sharp
put her pale face out of the window and actually flung the book
back into the garden.
Ā Ā This almost caused Jemima to faint with terror.
āWell, I neverāā said sheā āwhat an audaciousāā Emotion prevented
her from completing either sentence. The carriage rolled away; the
great gates were closed; the bell rang for the dancing lesson. The
world is before the two young ladies; and so, farewell to Chiswick
Mall.
CHAPTER II
In Which Miss Sharp and Miss Sedley Prepare to Open the Campaign
When Miss Sharp had performed the heroical act mentioned in the last chapter, and had seen the Dixonary, flying over the pavement of the little garden, fall at length at the feet of the astonished Miss Jemima, the young lady's countenance, which had before worn an almost livid look of hatred, assumed a smile that perhaps was scarcely more agreeable, and she sank back in the carriage in an easy frame of mind, sayingā āSo much for the Dixonary; and, thank God, I'm out of Chiswick. ā
Miss Sedley was almost as flurried at the act of defiance as Miss Jemima had been; for, consider, it was but one minute that she had left school, and the impressions of six years are not got over in that space of time. Nay, with some persons those awes and terrors of youth last for ever and ever. I know, for instance, an old gentleman of sixty-eight, who said to me one morning at breakfast, with a very agitated countenance, āI dreamed last night that I was flogged by Dr. Raine. ā Fancy had carried him back five-and-fifty years in the course of that evening. Dr. Raine and his rod were just as awful to him in his heart, then, at sixty-eight, as they had been at thirteen. If the Doctor, with a large birch, had appeared bodily to him, even at the age of threescore and eight, and had said in awful voice, āBoy, take down your pantā ā? Well, well, Miss Sedley was exceedingly alarmed at this act of insubordination.
āHow could you do so, Rebecca? ā at last she said, after a pause.
āWhy, do you think Miss Pinkerton will come out and order me back to the black-hole? ā said Rebecca, laughing.
āNo: butā ā
āI hate the whole house, ā continued Miss Sharp in a fury. āI hope I may never set eyes on it again. I wish it were in the bottom of the Thames, I do; and if Miss Pinkerton were there, I wouldn't pick her out, that I wouldn't. O how I should like to see her floating in the water yonder, turban and all, with her train streaming after her, and her nose like the beak of a wherry. ā
āHush! ā cried Miss Sedley.
āWhy, will the black footman tell tales? ā cried Miss Rebecca, laughing. āHe may go back and tell Miss Pinkerton that I hate her with all my soul; and I wish he would; and I wish I had a means of proving it, too. For two years I have only had insults and outrage from her. I have been treated worse than any servant in the kitchen. I have never had a friend or a kind word, except from you. I have been made to tend the little girls in the lower schoolroom, and to talk French to the Misses, until I grew sick of my mother tongue. But that talking French to Miss Pinkerton was capital fun, wasn't it? She doesn't know a word of French, and was too proud to confess it. I believe it was that which made her part with me; and so thank Heaven for French. Vive la France! Vive l'Empereur! Vive Bonaparte! ā
āO Rebecca, Rebecca, for shame! ā cried Miss Sedley; for this was the greatest blasphemy Rebecca had as yet uttered; and in those days, in England, to say, āLong live Bonaparte! ā was as much as to say, āLong live Lucifer! ā āHow can youā how dare you have such wicked, revengeful thoughts? ā
āRevenge may be wicked, but it's natural, ā answered Miss Rebecca. āI'm no angel. ā And, to say the truth, she certainly was not.
For it may be remarked in ...