Chapter I: Chiswick Mall

by William Makepeace Thackeray

　　While the present century was in its teens, and on onesunshiny morning in June, there drove up to the greatiron gate of Miss Pinkerton's academy for young ladies,on Chiswick Mall, a large family coach, with two fathorses in blazing harness, driven by a fat coachman ina three-cornered hat and wig, at the rate of four milesan hour. A black servant, who reposed on the box besidethe fat coachman, uncurled his bandy legs as soon asthe equipage drew up opposite Miss Pinkerton's shiningbrass plate, and as he pulled the bell at least a score ofyoung heads were seen peering out of the narrow windowsof the stately old brick house. Nay, the acute observer mighthave recognized the little red nose of good-natured MissJemima Pinkerton herself, rising over some geranium potsin the window of that lady's own drawing-room.

　　"It is Mrs. Sedley's coach, sister," said Miss Jemima."Sambo, the black servant, has just rung the bell; andthe coachman has a new red waistcoat."

　　"Have you completed all the necessary preparationsincident to Miss Sedley's departure, Miss Jemima?" askedMiss Pinkerton herself, that majestic lady; the Semiramisof Hammersmith, the friend of Doctor Johnson, thecorrespondent of Mrs. Chapone herself.

　　"The girls were up at four this morning, packing hertrunks, sister," replied Miss Jemima; "we have made hera bow-pot."

　　"Say a bouquet, sister Jemima, 'tis more genteel."

　　"Well, a booky as big almost as a haystack; I have putup two bottles of the gillyflower water for Mrs. Sedley,and the receipt for making it, in Amelia's box."

　　"And I trust, Miss Jemima, you have made a copy ofMiss Sedley's account. This is it, is it? Very good--ninety-three pounds, four shillings. Be kind enough to address itto John Sedley, Esquire, and to seal this billet which Ihave written to his lady."

　　In Miss Jemima's eyes an autograph letter of her sister,Miss Pinkerton, was an object of as deep veneration aswould have been a letter from a sovereign. Only whenher pupils quitted the establishment, or when they wereabout to be married, and once, when poor Miss Birchdied of the scarlet fever, was Miss Pinkerton known towrite personally to the parents of her pupils; and it wasJemima's opinion that if anything could console Mrs.Birch for her daughter's loss, it would be that pious andeloquent composition in which Miss Pinkerton announcedthe event.

　　In the present instance Miss Pinkerton's "billet" wasto the following effect:--

　　The Mall, Chiswick, June 15, 18--

　　Madam,--After her six years' residence at the Mall, Ihave the honour and happiness of presenting Miss AmeliaSedley to her parents, as a young lady not unworthyto occupy a fitting position in their polished and refinedcircle. Those virtues which characterize the young Englishgentlewoman, those accomplishments which becomeher birth and station, will not be found wanting in theamiable Miss Sedley, whose industry and obediencehave endeared her to her instructors, and whose delightfulsweetness of temper has charmed her aged and heryouthful companions.

　　In music, in dancing, in orthography, in every varietyof embroidery and needlework, she will be found tohave realized her friends' fondest wishes. In geographythere is still much to be desired; and a careful andundeviating use of the backboard, for four hours dailyduring the next three years, is recommended as necessaryto the acquirement of that dignified deportment andcarriage, so requisite for every young lady of fashion.

　　In the principles of religion and morality, Miss Sedleywill be found worthy of an establishment which hasbeen honoured by the presence of The Great Lexicographer,and the patronage of the admirable Mrs. Chapone. In leavingthe Mall, Miss Amelia carries with her the hearts of hercompanions, and the affectionate regards of her mistress,who has the honour to subscribe herself,

　　Madam,Your most obliged humble servant,Barbara Pinkerton

　　P.S.--Miss Sharp accompanies Miss Sedley. It is particularlyrequested that Miss Sharp's stay in Russell Square may notexceed ten days. The family of distinction with whom she isengaged, desire to avail themselves of her services as soon as possible.

　　This letter completed, Miss Pinkerton proceeded towrite her own name, and Miss Sedley's, in the fly-leaf ofa Johnson's Dictionary--the interesting work which sheinvariably presented to her scholars, on their departurefrom the Mall. On the cover was inserted a copy of "Linesaddressed to a young lady on quitting Miss Pinkerton'sschool, at the Mall; by the late revered Doctor SamuelJohnson." In fact, the Lexicographer's name was alwayson the lips of this majestic woman, and a visit he hadpaid to her was the cause of her reputation and her fortune.

　　Being commanded by her elder sister to get "the Dictionary"from the cupboard, Miss Jemima had extracted two copiesof the book from the receptacle in question. When MissPinkerton had finished the inscription in the first, Jemima,with rather a dubious and timid air, handed her the second.

　　"For whom is this, Miss Jemima?" said Miss Pinkerton,with awful coldness.

　　"For Becky Sharp," answered Jemima, trembling verymuch, and blushing over her withered face and neck, asshe turned her back on her sister. "For Becky Sharp:she's going too."

　　"Miss Jemima!" exclaimed Miss Pinkerton, in thelargest capitals. "Are you in your senses? Replace theDixonary in the closet, and never venture to take sucha liberty in future."

　　"Well, sister, it's only two-and-ninepence, and poorBecky will be miserable if she don't get one."

　　"Send Miss Sedley instantly to me," said Miss Pinkerton.And so venturing not to say another word, poorJemima trotted off, exceedingly flurried and nervous.

　　Miss Sedley's papa was a merchant in London, and aman of some wealth; whereas Miss Sharp was an articledpupil, for whom Miss Pinkerton had done, as she thought,quite enough, without conferring upon her at parting thehigh honour of the Dixonary.

　　Although schoolmistresses' letters are to be trusted nomore nor less than churchyard epitaphs; yet, as it sometimeshappens that a person departs this life who is reallydeserving of all the praises the stone cutter carves overhis bones; who is a good Christian, a good parent, child,wife, or husband; who actually does leave a disconsolatefamily to mourn his loss; so in academies of the maleand female sex it occurs every now and then that thepupil is fully worthy of the praises bestowed by thedisinterested instructor. Now, Miss Amelia Sedley was ayoung lady of this singular species; and deserved not onlyall that Miss Pinkerton said in her praise, but had manycharming qualities which that pompous old Minerva of awoman could not see, from the differences of rank andage between her pupil and herself.

　　For she could not only sing like a lark, or a Mrs.Billington, and dance like Hillisberg or Parisot; andembroider beautifully; and spell as well as a Dixonaryitself; but she had such a kindly, smiling, tender, gentle,generous heart of her own, as won the love of everybodywho came near her, from Minerva herself down to the poorgirl in the scullery, and the one-eyed tart-woman'sdaughter, who was permitted to vend her wares once aweek to the young ladies in the Mall. She had twelve intimateand bosom friends out of the twenty-four young ladies.Even envious Miss Briggs never spoke ill of her; highand mighty Miss Saltire (Lord Dexter's granddaughter)allowed that her figure was genteel; and as for MissSwartz, the rich woolly-haired mulatto from St. Kitt's, onthe day Amelia went away, she was in such a passion oftears that they were obliged to send for Dr. Floss, and halftipsify her with salvolatile. Miss Pinkerton's attachmentwas, as may be supposed from the high position andeminent virtues of that lady, calm and dignified; but MissJemima had already whimpered several times at the ideaof Amelia's departure; and, but for fear of her sister,would have gone off in downright hysterics, like theheiress (who paid double) of St. Kitt's. Such luxury ofgrief, however, is only allowed to parlour-boarders.Honest Jemima had all the bills, and the washing, and themending, and the puddings, and the plate and crockery,and the servants to superintend. But why speak abouther? It is probable that we shall not hear of her againfrom this moment to the end of time, and that when thegreat filigree iron gates are once closed on her, she andher awful sister will never issue therefrom into this littleworld of history.

　　But as we are to see a great deal of Amelia, there isno harm in saying, at the outset of our acquaintance, thatshe 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, thatwe are to have for a constant companion so guilelessand good-natured a person. As she is not a heroine, thereis no need to describe her person; indeed I am afraidthat her nose was rather short than otherwise, and hercheeks a great deal too round and red for a heroine; buther face blushed with rosy health, and her lips with thefreshest of smiles, and she had a pair of eyes whichsparkled with the brightest and honestest good-humour,except indeed when they filled with tears, and that wasa great deal too often; for the silly thing would cry overa dead canary-bird; or over a mouse, that the cat haplyhad seized upon; or over the end of a novel, were it everso stupid; and as for saying an unkind word to her, wereany persons hard-hearted enough to do so--why, so muchthe worse for them. Even Miss Pinkerton, that austereand godlike woman, ceased scolding her after the firsttime, and though she no more comprehended sensibilitythan she did Algebra, gave all masters and teachersparticular orders to treat Miss Sedley with the utmostgentleness, as harsh treatment was injurious to her.

　　So that when the day of departure came, between hertwo customs of laughing and crying, Miss Sedley wasgreatly puzzled how to act. She was glad to go home,and yet most woefully sad at leaving school. For threedays before, little Laura Martin, the orphan, followed herabout like a little dog. She had to make and receive atleast fourteen presents--to make fourteen solemn promisesof writing every week: "Send my letters under coverto my grandpapa, the Earl of Dexter," said Miss Saltire(who, by the way, was rather shabby). "Never mind thepostage, but write every day, you dear darling," said theimpetuous and woolly-headed, but generous andaffectionate Miss Swartz; and the orphan little Laura Martin(who was just in round-hand), took her friend's handand said, looking up in her face wistfully, "Amelia, whenI write to you I shall call you Mamma." All which details,I have no doubt, Jones, who reads this book at hisClub, will pronounce to be excessively foolish, trivial,twaddling, and ultra-sentimental. Yes; I can see Jonesat this minute (rather flushed with his joint of muttonand half pint of wine), taking out his pencil and scoringunder the words "foolish, twaddling," &c., and adding tothem his own remark of "Quite true." Well, he is a loftyman of genius, and admires the great and heroic in lifeand novels; and so had better take warning and go elsewhere.

　　Well, then. The flowers, and the presents, and thetrunks, and bonnet-boxes of Miss Sedley having beenarranged by Mr. Sambo in the carriage, together with avery small and weather-beaten old cow's-skin trunk withMiss Sharp's card neatly nailed upon it, which wasdelivered by Sambo with a grin, and packed by thecoachman with a corresponding sneer--the hour for partingcame; and the grief of that moment was considerablylessened by the admirable discourse which Miss Pinkertonaddressed to her pupil. Not that the parting speech causedAmelia to philosophise, or that it armed her in anyway with a calmness, the result of argument; but it wasintolerably dull, pompous, and tedious; and having thefear of her schoolmistress greatly before her eyes, MissSedley did not venture, in her presence, to give way toany ebullitions of private grief. A seed-cake and a bottleof wine were produced in the drawing-room, as on thesolemn occasions of the visits of parents, and theserefreshments being partaken of, Miss Sedley was atliberty to depart.

　　"You'll go in and say good-by to Miss Pinkerton,Becky!" said Miss Jemima to a young lady of whomnobody took any notice, and who was coming downstairswith her own bandbox.

　　"I suppose I must," said Miss Sharp calmly, and muchto the wonder of Miss Jemima; and the latter havingknocked at the door, and receiving permission to comein, Miss Sharp advanced in a very unconcerned manner,and said in French, and with a perfect accent, "Mademoiselle,je viens vous faire mes adieux."

　　Miss Pinkerton did not understand French; she onlydirected those who did: but biting her lips and throwingup her venerable and Roman-nosed head (on the top ofwhich figured a large and solemn turban), she said, "MissSharp, I wish you a good morning." As the HammersmithSemiramis spoke, she waved one hand, both by way ofadieu, and to give Miss Sharp an opportunity of shakingone of the fingers of the hand which was left out forthat purpose.

　　Miss Sharp only folded her own hands with a veryfrigid smile and bow, and quite declined to accept theproffered honour; on which Semiramis tossed up herturban more indignantly than ever. In fact, it was a littlebattle between the young lady and the old one, and thelatter was worsted. "Heaven bless you, my child," saidshe, embracing Amelia, and scowling the while over thegirl's shoulder at Miss Sharp. "Come away, Becky," saidMiss Jemima, pulling the young woman away in greatalarm, and the drawing-room door closed upon them forever.

　　Then came the struggle and parting below. Wordsrefuse to tell it. All the servants were there in the hall--all the dear friend--all the young ladies--the dancing-master who had just arrived; and there was such ascuffling, and hugging, and kissing, and crying, with thehysterical yoops of Miss Swartz, the parlour-boarder,from her room, as no pen can depict, and as the tenderheart would fain pass over. The embracing was over; theyparted--that is, Miss Sedley parted from her friends. MissSharp had demurely entered the carriage some minutesbefore. Nobody cried for leaving her.

　　Sambo of the bandy legs slammed the carriage dooron his young weeping mistress. He sprang up behind thecarriage. "Stop!" cried Miss Jemima, rushing to the gatewith a parcel.

　　"It's some sandwiches, my dear," said she to Amelia."You may be hungry, you know; and Becky, BeckySharp, here's a book for you that my sister--that is, I--Johnson's Dixonary, you know; you mustn't leave uswithout that. Good-by. Drive on, coachman. God blessyou!"

　　And the kind creature retreated into the garden,overcome with emotion.

　　But, lo! and just as the coach drove off, Miss Sharp puther pale face out of the window and actually flung thebook back into the garden.

　　This almost caused Jemima to faint with terror. "Well,I never"--said she--"what an audacious"--Emotionprevented her from completing either sentence. Thecarriage rolled away; the great gates were closed; the bellrang for the dancing lesson. The world is before the twoyoung ladies; and so, farewell to Chiswick Mall.