Chapter II: In Which Miss Sharp and Miss Sedley Prepare to Open the Campaign

by William Makepeace Thackeray

　　When Miss Sharp had performed the heroical actmentioned in the last chapter, and had seen the Dixonary,flying over the pavement of the little garden, fall at lengthat the feet of the astonished Miss Jemima, the younglady's countenance, which had before worn an almostlivid look of hatred, assumed a smile that perhaps wasscarcely more agreeable, and she sank back in thecarriage in an easy frame of mind, saying--"So much forthe Dixonary; and, thank God, I'm out of Chiswick."

　　Miss Sedley was almost as flurried at the act of defianceas Miss Jemima had been; for, consider, it was but oneminute that she had left school, and the impressions ofsix years are not got over in that space of time. Nay,with some persons those awes and terrors of youth lastfor ever and ever. I know, for instance, an old gentlemanof sixty-eight, who said to me one morning at breakfast,with a very agitated countenance, "I dreamed lastnight that I was flogged by Dr. Raine." Fancy had carriedhim back five-and-fifty years in the course of thatevening. Dr. Raine and his rod were just as awful to himin his heart, then, at sixty-eight, as they had been atthirteen. If the Doctor, with a large birch, had appearedbodily to him, even at the age of threescore and eight,and had said in awful voice, "Boy, take down yourpant--"? Well, well, Miss Sedley was exceedinglyalarmed at this act of insubordination.

　　"How could you do so, Rebecca?" at last she said,after a pause.

　　"Why, do you think Miss Pinkerton will come out andorder me back to the black-hole?" said Rebecca, laughing.

　　"No: but--"

　　"I hate the whole house," continued Miss Sharp in afury. "I hope I may never set eyes on it again. I wish itwere in the bottom of the Thames, I do; and if MissPinkerton were there, I wouldn't pick her out, that Iwouldn't. O how I should like to see her floating in thewater yonder, turban and all, with her train streamingafter her, and her nose like the beak of a wherry."

　　"Hush!" cried Miss Sedley.

　　"Why, will the black footman tell tales?" cried MissRebecca, laughing. "He may go back and tell MissPinkerton that I hate her with all my soul; and I wish hewould; and I wish I had a means of proving it, too. Fortwo 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 fromyou. I have been made to tend the little girls in the lowerschoolroom, and to talk French to the Misses, until Igrew sick of my mother tongue. But that talking Frenchto Miss Pinkerton was capital fun, wasn't it? She doesn'tknow a word of French, and was too proud to confessit. I believe it was that which made her part with me;and so thank Heaven for French. Vive la France! Vivel'Empereur! Vive Bonaparte!"

　　"O Rebecca, Rebecca, for shame!" cried Miss Sedley;for this was the greatest blasphemy Rebecca had as yetuttered; and in those days, in England, to say, "Long liveBonaparte!" was as much as to say, "Long live Lucifer!""How can you--how dare you have such wicked,revengeful thoughts?"

　　"Revenge may be wicked, but it's natural," answeredMiss Rebecca. "I'm no angel." And, to say the truth, shecertainly was not.

　　For it may be remarked in the course of this littleconversation (which took place as the coach rolled alonglazily by the river side) that though Miss Rebecca Sharphas twice had occasion to thank Heaven, it has been, inthe first place, for ridding her of some person whom shehated, and secondly, for enabling her to bring herenemies to some sort of perplexity or confusion; neitherof which are very amiable motives for religious gratitude,or such as would be put forward by persons of a kindand placable disposition. Miss Rebecca was not, then, inthe least kind or placable. All the world used her ill, saidthis young misanthropist, and we may be pretty certainthat persons whom all the world treats ill, deserveentirely the treatment they get. The world is a looking-glass, and gives back to every man the reflection of hisown face. Frown at it, and it will in turn look sourlyupon you; laugh at it and with it, and it is a jolly kindcompanion; and so let all young persons take their choice.This is certain, that if the world neglected Miss Sharp,she never was known to have done a good action inbehalf of anybody; nor can it be expected that twenty-four young ladies should all be as amiable as the heroineof this work, Miss Sedley (whom we have selected forthe very reason that she was the best-natured of all,otherwise what on earth was to have prevented us fromputting up Miss Swartz, or Miss Crump, or Miss Hopkins,as heroine in her place!)it could not be expected thatevery one should be of the humble and gentle temperof Miss Amelia Sedley; should take every opportunity tovanquish Rebecca's hard-heartedness and ill-humour; and,by a thousand kind words and offices, overcome, for onceat least, her hostility to her kind.

　　Miss Sharp's father was an artist, and in that qualityhad given lessons of drawing at Miss Pinkerton's school.He was a clever man; a pleasant companion; a carelessstudent; with a great propensity for running into debt,and a partiality for the tavern. When he was drunk, heused to beat his wife and daughter; and the next morning,with a headache, he would rail at the world for its neglectof his genius, and abuse, with a good deal of cleverness,and sometimes with perfect reason, the fools, his brotherpainters. As it was with the utmost difficulty that hecould keep himself, and as he owed money for a mileround Soho, where he lived, he thought to better hiscircumstances by marrying a young woman of the Frenchnation, who was by profession an opera-girl. The humblecalling of her female parent Miss Sharp never alluded to,but used to state subsequently that the Entrechats werea noble family of Gascony, and took great pride in herdescent from them. And curious it is that as she advancedin life this young lady's ancestors increased in rank andsplendour.

　　Rebecca's mother had had some education somewhere,and her daughter spoke French with purity and a Parisianaccent. It was in those days rather a rare accomplishment,and led to her engagement with the orthodox MissPinkerton. For her mother being dead, her father, findinghimself not likely to recover, after his third attack ofdelirium tremens, wrote a manly and pathetic letter toMiss Pinkerton, recommending the orphan child to herprotection, and so descended to the grave, after twobailiffs had quarrelled over his corpse. Rebecca wasseventeen when she came to Chiswick, and was boundover as an articled pupil; her duties being to talk French,as we have seen; and her privileges to live cost free, and,with a few guineas a year, to gather scraps of knowledgefrom the professors who attended the school.

　　She was small and slight in person; pale, sandy-haired,and with eyes habitually cast down: when they looked upthey were very large, odd, and attractive; so attractivethat the Reverend Mr. Crisp, fresh from Oxford, andcurate to the Vicar of Chiswick, the Reverend Mr.Flowerdew, fell in love with Miss Sharp; being shot deadby a glance of her eyes which was fired all the way acrossChiswick Church from the school-pew to the reading-desk. This infatuated young man used sometimes to taketea with Miss Pinkerton, to whom he had been presentedby his mamma, and actually proposed something likemarriage in an intercepted note, which the one-eyedapple-woman was charged to deliver. Mrs. Crisp wassummoned from Buxton, and abruptly carried off her darlingboy; but the idea, even, of such an eagle in the Chiswickdovecot caused a great flutter in the breast of MissPinkerton, who would have sent away Miss Sharp but thatshe was bound to her under a forfeit, and who nevercould thoroughly believe the young lady's protestationsthat she had never exchanged a single word with Mr.Crisp, except under her own eyes on the two occasionswhen she had met him at tea.

　　By the side of many tall and bouncing young ladies inthe establishment, Rebecca Sharp looked like a child. Butshe had the dismal precocity of poverty. Many a dun hadshe talked to, and turned away from her father's door;many a tradesman had she coaxed and wheedled intogood-humour, and into the granting of one meal more.She sate commonly with her father, who was very proudof her wit, and heard the talk of many of his wildcompanions--often but ill-suited for a girl to hear. But shenever had been a girl, she said; she had been a womansince she was eight years old. Oh, why did Miss Pinkertonlet such a dangerous bird into her cage?

　　The fact is, the old lady believed Rebecca to be themeekest creature in the world, so admirably, on theoccasions when her father brought her to Chiswick, usedRebecca to perform the part of the ingenue; and only ayear before the arrangement by which Rebecca had beenadmitted into her house, and when Rebecca was sixteenyears old, Miss Pinkerton majestically, and with a littlespeech, made her a present of a doll--which was, bythe way, the confiscated property of Miss Swindle,discovered surreptitiously nursing it in school-hours. Howthe father and daughter laughed as they trudged hometogether after the evening party (it was on the occasion ofthe speeches, when all the professors were invited) andhow Miss Pinkerton would have raged had she seen thecaricature of herself which the little mimic, Rebecca,managed to make out of her doll. Becky used to gothrough dialogues with it; it formed the delight ofNewman Street, Gerrard Street, and the Artists' quarter:and the young painters, when they came to take their gin-and-water with their lazy, dissolute, clever, jovial senior,used regularly to ask Rebecca if Miss Pinkerton was athome: she was as well known to them, poor soul! asMr. Lawrence or President West. Once Rebecca had thehonour to pass a few days at Chiswick; after which shebrought back Jemima, and erected another doll as MissJemmy: for though that honest creature had made andgiven her jelly and cake enough for three children, anda seven-shilling piece at parting, the girl's sense ofridicule was far stronger than her gratitude, and shesacrificed Miss Jemmy quite as pitilessly as her sister.

　　The catastrophe came, and she was brought to theMall as to her home. The rigid formality of the placesuffocated her: the prayers and the meals, the lessonsand the walks, which were arranged with a conventualregularity, oppressed her almost beyond endurance; andshe looked back to the freedom and the beggary of theold studio in Soho with so much regret, that everybody,herself included, fancied she was consumed with grieffor her father. She had a little room in the garret, wherethe maids heard her walking and sobbing at night; but itwas with rage, and not with grief. She had not been muchof a dissembler, until now her loneliness taught her tofeign. She had never mingled in the society of women:her father, reprobate as he was, was a man of talent; hisconversation was a thousand times more agreeable to herthan the talk of such of her own sex as she now encountered.The pompous vanity of the old schoolmistress, the foolishgood-humour of her sister, the silly chat and scandal of theelder girls, and the frigid correctness of the governessesequally annoyed her; and she had no softmaternal heart, this unlucky girl, otherwise the prattleand talk of the younger children, with whose care shewas chiefly intrusted, might have soothed and interestedher; but she lived among them two years, and not onewas sorry that she went away. The gentle tender-hearted Amelia Sedley was the only person to whom shecould attach herself in the least; and who could helpattaching herself to Amelia?

　　The happinessthe superior advantages of the youngwomen round about her, gave Rebecca inexpressiblepangs of envy. "What airs that girl gives herself, becauseshe is an Earl's grand-daughter," she said of one. "Howthey cringe and bow to that Creole, because of herhundred thousand pounds! I am a thousand times clevererand more charming than that creature, for all her wealth.I am as well bred as the Earl's grand-daughter, for all herfine pedigree; and yet every one passes me by here. Andyet, when I was at my father's, did not the men give uptheir gayest balls and parties in order to pass the eveningwith me?" She determined at any rate to get free fromthe prison in which she found herself, and now began toact for herself, and for the first time to make connectedplans for the future.

　　She took advantage, therefore, of the means of studythe place offered her; and as she was already a musicianand a good linguist, she speedily went through the littlecourse of study which was considered necessary for ladiesin those days. Her music she practised incessantly, andone day, when the girls were out, and she had remainedat home, she was overheard to play a piece so well thatMinerva thought, wisely, she could spare herself theexpense of a master for the juniors, and intimated to MissSharp that she was to instruct them in music for thefuture.

　　The girl refused; and for the first time, and to theastonishment of the majestic mistress of the school. "Iam here to speak French with the children," Rebeccasaid abruptly, "not to teach them music, and save moneyfor you. Give me money, and I will teach them."

　　Minerva was obliged to yield, and, of course, dislikedher from that day. "For five-and-thirty years," she said,and with great justice, "I never have seen the individualwho has dared in my own house to question myauthority. I have nourished a viper in my bosom."

　　"A viper--a fiddlestick," said Miss Sharp to the oldlady, almost fainting with astonishment. "You took mebecause I was useful. There is no question of gratitudebetween us. I hate this place, and want to leave it. Iwill do nothing here but what I am obliged to do."

　　It was in vain that the old lady asked her if she wasaware she was speaking to Miss Pinkerton? Rebeccalaughed in her face, with a horrid sarcastic demoniacallaughter, that almost sent the schoolmistress into fits."Give me a sum of money," said the girl, "and get ridof me--or, if you like better, get me a good place asgoverness in a nobleman's family--you can do so if youplease." And in their further disputes she always returnedto this point, "Get me a situation--we hate each other,and I am ready to go."

　　Worthy Miss Pinkerton, although she had a Romannose and a turban, and was as tall as a grenadier, andhad been up to this time an irresistible princess, had nowill or strength like that of her little apprentice, and invain did battle against her, and tried to overawe her.Attempting once to scold her in public, Rebecca hit uponthe before-mentioned plan of answering her in French,which quite routed the old woman. In order to maintainauthority in her school, it became necessary to removethis rebel, this monster, this serpent, this firebrand; andhearing about this time that Sir Pitt Crawley's familywas in want of a governess, she actually recommendedMiss Sharp for the situation, firebrand and serpent asshe was. "I cannot, certainly," she said, "find fault withMiss Sharp's conduct, except to myself; and must allowthat her talents and accomplishments are of a high order.As far as the head goes, at least, she does credit to theeducational system pursued at my establishment.''

　　And so the schoolmistress reconciled the recommendationto her conscience, and the indentures were cancelled,and the apprentice was free. The battle here describedin a few lines, of course, lasted for some months. Andas Miss Sedley, being now in her seventeenth year, wasabout to leave school, and had a friendship for MissSharp ("'tis the only point in Amelia's behaviour," saidMinerva, "which has not been satisfactory to hermistress"), Miss Sharp was invited by her friend topass a week with her at home, before she enteredupon her duties as governess in a private family.

　　Thus the world began for these two young ladies. ForAmelia it was quite a new, fresh, brilliant world, withall the bloom upon it. It was not quite a new one forRebecca--(indeed, if the truth must be told with respectto the Crisp affair, the tart-woman hinted to somebody,who took an affidavit of the fact to somebody else, thatthere was a great deal more than was made publicregarding Mr. Crisp and Miss Sharp, and that his letterwas in answer to another letter). But who can tell youthe real truth of the matter? At all events, if Rebeccawas not beginning the world, she was beginning it overagain.

　　By the time the young ladies reached Kensington turnpike,Amelia had not forgotten her companions, but haddried her tears, and had blushed very much and beendelighted at a young officer of the Life Guards, who spiedher as he was riding by, and said, "A dem fine gal,egad!" and before the carriage arrived in Russell Square,a great deal of conversation had taken place about theDrawing-room, and whether or not young ladies worepowder as well as hoops when presented, and whethershe was to have that honour: to the Lord Mayor's ballshe knew she was to go. And when at length home wasreached, Miss Amelia Sedley skipped out on Sambo'sarm, as happy and as handsome a girl as any in the wholebig city of London. Both he and coachman agreed onthis point, and so did her father and mother, and so didevery one of the servants in the house, as they stoodbobbing, and curtseying, and smiling, in the hall towelcome their young mistress.

　　You may be sure that she showed Rebecca over everyroom of the house, and everything in every one of herdrawers; and her books, and her piano, and her dresses,and all her necklaces, brooches, laces, and gimcracks.She insisted upon Rebecca accepting the white cornelianand the turquoise rings, and a sweet sprigged muslin,which was too small for her now, though it would fither friend to a nicety; and she determined in her heartto ask her mother's permission to present her whiteCashmere shawl to her friend. Could she not spare it? andhad not her brother Joseph just brought her two fromIndia?

　　When Rebecca saw the two magnificent Cashmereshawls which Joseph Sedley had brought home to hissister, she said, with perfect truth, "that it must bedelightful to have a brother," and easily got the pity of thetender-hearted Amelia for being alone in the world, anorphan without friends or kindred.

　　"Not alone," said Amelia; "you know, Rebecca, I shallalways be your friend, and love you as a sister--indeedI will."

　　"Ah, but to have parents, as you have--kind, rich,affectionate parents, who give you everything you-askfor; and their love, which is more precious than all!My poor papa could give me nothing, and I had but twofrocks in all the world! And then, to have a brother, adear brother! Oh, how you must love him!"

　　Amelia laughed.

　　"What! don't you love him? you, who say you loveeverybody?" ~;

　　"Yes, of course, I do--only--"

　　"Only what?"

　　"Only Joseph doesn't seem to care much whether Ilove him or not. He gave me two fingers to shake whenhe arrived after ten years' absence! He is very kind andgood, but he scarcely ever speaks to me; I think heloves his pipe a great deal better than his"--but hereAmelia checked herself, for why should she speak ill ofher brother? "He was very kind to me as a child," sheadded; "I was but five years old when he went away."

　　"Isn't he very rich?" said Rebecca. "They say all Indiannabobs are enormously rich."

　　"I believe he has a very large income."

　　"And is your sister-in-law a nice pretty woman?"

　　"La! Joseph is not married," said Amelia, laughingagain.

　　Perhaps she had mentioned the fact already to Rebecca,but that young lady did not appear to have rememberedit; indeed, vowed and protested that she expected to seea number of Amelia's nephews and nieces. She was quitedisappointed that Mr. Sedley was not married; she wassure Amelia had said he was, and she doted so on littlechildren.

　　"I think you must have had enough of them atChiswick," said Amelia, rather wondering at the suddentenderness on her friend's part; and indeed in later daysMiss Sharp would never have committed herself so faras to advance opinions, the untruth of which would havebeen so easily detected. But we must remember that sheis but nineteen as yet, unused to the art of deceiving,poor innocent creature! and making her own experiencein her own person. The meaning of the above series ofqueries, as translated in the heart of this ingenious youngwoman, was simply this: "If Mr. Joseph Sedley is richand unmarried, why should I not marry him? I haveonly a fortnight, to be sure, but there is no harm intrying." And she determined within herself to make thislaudable attempt. She redoubled her caresses to Amelia;she kissed the white cornelian necklace as she put iton; and vowed she would never, never part with it. Whenthe dinner-bell rang she went downstairs with her armround her friend's waist, as is the habit of young ladies.She was so agitated at the drawing-room door, that shecould hardly find courage to enter. "Feel my heart, howit beats, dear!" said she to her friend.

　　"No, it doesn't," said Amelia. "Come in, don't befrightened. Papa won't do you any harm."