Chapter X: Miss Sharp Begins to Make Friends

by William Makepeace Thackeray

　　And now, being received as a member of the amiablefamily whose portraits we have sketched in the foregoingpages, it became naturally Rebecca's duty to makeherself, as she said, agreeable to her benefactors, and togain their confidence to the utmost of her power. Whocan but admire this quality of gratitude in an unprotectedorphan; and, if there entered some degree of selfishnessinto her calculations, who can say but that herprudence was perfectly justifiable? "I am alone in theworld," said the friendless girl. "I have nothing to lookfor but what my own labour can bring me; and whilethat little pink-faced chit Amelia, with not half my sense,has ten thousand pounds and an establishment secure,poor Rebecca (and my figure is far better than hers)has only herself and her own wits to trust to. Well, letus see if my wits cannot provide me with an honourablemaintenance, and if some day or the other I cannot showMiss Amelia my real superiority over her. Not that Idislike poor Amelia: who can dislike such a harmless,good-natured creature?--only it will be a fine day whenI can take my place above her in the world, as why,indeed, should I not?" Thus it was that our littleromantic friend formed visions of the future for herself--nor must we be scandalised that, in all her castles inthe air, a husband was the principal inhabitant. Ofwhat else have young ladies to think, but husbands? Ofwhat else do their dear mammas think? "I must be myown mamma," said Rebecca; not without a tinglingconsciousness of defeat, as she thought over her littlemisadventure with Jos Sedley.

　　So she wisely determined to render her position withthe Queen's Crawley family comfortable and secure, andto this end resolved to make friends of every one aroundher who could at all interfere with her comfort.

　　As my Lady Crawley was not one of these personages,and a woman, moreover, so indolent and void ofcharacter as not to be of the least consequence in her ownhouse, Rebecca soon found that it was not at all necessaryto cultivate her good will--indeed, impossible to gain it. Sheused to talk to her pupils about their "poor mamma"; and,though she treated that lady with every demonstrationof cool respect, it was to the rest of the family that shewisely directed the chief part of her attentions.

　　With the young people, whose applause she thoroughlygained, her method was pretty simple. She did notpester their young brains with too much learning, but,on the contrary, let them have their own way inregard to educating themselves; for what instruction is moreeffectual than self-instruction? The eldest was rather fondof books, and as there was in the old library at Queen'sCrawley a considerable provision of works of lightliterature of the last century, both in the French and Englishlanguages (they had been purchased by the Secretaryof the Tape and Sealing Wax Office at the period of hisdisgrace), and as nobody ever troubled the book-shelvesbut herself, Rebecca was enabled agreeably, and, asit were, in playing, to impart a great deal of instructionto Miss Rose Crawley.

　　She and Miss Rose thus read together many delightfulFrench and English works, among which may bementioned those of the learned Dr. Smollett, of the ingeniousMr. Henry Fielding, of the graceful and fantasticMonsieur Crebillon the younger, whom our immortal poetGray so much admired, and of the universal Monsieur deVoltaire. Once, when Mr. Crawley asked what the youngpeople were reading, the governess replied "Smollett.""Oh, Smollett," said Mr. Crawley, quite satisfied. "Hishistory is more dull, but by no means so dangerous asthat of Mr. Hume. It is history you are reading?" "Yes,"said Miss Rose; without, however, adding that it was thehistory of Mr. Humphrey Clinker. On another occasionhe was rather scandalised at finding his sister with abook of French plays; but as the governess remarkedthat it was for the purpose of acquiring the French idiomin conversation, he was fain to be content. Mr. Crawley,as a diplomatist, was exceedingly proud of his own skillin speaking the French language (for he was of the worldstill), and not a little pleased with the compliments whichthe governess continually paid him upon his proficiency.

　　Miss Violet's tastes were, on the contrary, more rudeand boisterous than those of her sister. She knew thesequestered spots where the hens laid their eggs. Shecould climb a tree to rob the nests of the featheredsongsters of their speckled spoils. And her pleasure was toride the young colts, and to scour the plains like Camilla.She was the favourite of her father and of the stablemen.She was the darling, and withal the terror of thecook; for she discovered the haunts of the jam-pots, andwould attack them when they were within her reach.She and her sister were engaged in constant battles. Anyof which peccadilloes, if Miss Sharp discovered, she didnot tell them to Lady Crawley; who would have toldthem to the father, or worse, to Mr. Crawley; butpromised not to tell if Miss Violet would be a good girland love her governess.

　　With Mr. Crawley Miss Sharp was respectful andobedient. She used to consult him on passages of Frenchwhich she could not understand, though her mother wasa Frenchwoman, and which he would construe to hersatisfaction: and, besides giving her his aid in profaneliterature, he was kind enough to select for her booksof a more serious tendency, and address to her much ofhis conversation. She admired, beyond measure, hisspeech at the Quashimaboo-Aid Society; took aninterest in his pamphlet on malt: was often affected, evento tears, by his discourses of an evening, and wouldsay--"Oh, thank you, sir," with a sigh, and a look upto heaven, that made him occasionally condescend toshake hands with her. "Blood is everything, after all,"would that aristocratic religionist say. "How Miss Sharpis awakened by my words, when not one of the peoplehere is touched. I am too fine for them--too delicate.I must familiarise my style--but she understands it. Hermother was a Montmorency."

　　Indeed it was from this famous family, as it appears,that Miss Sharp, by the mother's side, was descended.Of course she did not say that her mother had been onthe stage; it would have shocked Mr. Crawley's religiousscruples. How many noble emigres had this horridrevolution plunged in poverty! She had several storiesabout her ancestors ere she had been many months inthe house; some of which Mr. Crawley happened to findin D'Hozier's dictionary, which was in the library, andwhich strengthened his belief in their truth, and in thehigh-breeding of Rebecca. Are we to suppose from thiscuriosity and prying into dictionaries, could our heroinesuppose that Mr. Crawley was interested in her?--no,only in a friendly way. Have we not stated that he wasattached to Lady Jane Sheepshanks?

　　He took Rebecca to task once or twice about thepropriety of playing at backgammon with Sir Pitt, sayingthat it was a godless amusement, and that she would bemuch better engaged in reading "Thrump's Legacy," or"The Blind Washerwoman of Moorfields," or any workof a more serious nature; but Miss Sharp said her dearmother used often to play the same game with the oldCount de Trictrac and the venerable Abbe du Cornet,and so found an excuse for this and other worldlyamusements.

　　But it was not only by playing at backgammon withthe Baronet, that the little governess rendered herselfagreeable to her employer. She found many differentways of being useful to him. She read over, withindefatigable patience, all those law papers, with which,before she came to Queen's Crawley, he had promisedto entertain her. She volunteered to copy many of hisletters, and adroitly altered the spelling of them so asto suit the usages of the present day. She becameinterested in everything appertaining to the estate, to thefarm, the park, the garden, and the stables; and so delightfula companion was she, that the Baronet would seldomtake his after-breakfast walk without her (and thechildren of course), when she would give her advice as tothe trees which were to be lopped in the shrubberies, thegarden-beds to be dug, the crops which were to be cut,the horses which were to go to cart or plough. Beforeshe had been a year at Queen's Crawley she had quitewon the Baronet's confidence; and the conversation at thedinner-table, which before used to be held between himand Mr. Horrocks the butler, was now almost exclusivelybetween Sir Pitt and Miss Sharp. She was almostmistress of the house when Mr. Crawley was absent, butconducted herself in her new and exalted situation withsuch circumspection and modesty as not to offend theauthorities of the kitchen and stable, among whom herbehaviour was always exceedingly modest and affable. Shewas quite a different person from the haughty, shy,dissatisfied little girl whom we have known previously, andthis change of temper proved great prudence, a sinceredesire of amendment, or at any rate great moral courageon her part. Whether it was the heart which dictated thisnew system of complaisance and humility adopted by ourRebecca, is to be proved by her after-history. A systemof hypocrisy, which lasts through whole years, is oneseldom satisfactorily practised by a person of one-and-twenty; however, our readers will recollect, that, thoughyoung in years, our heroine was old in life and experience,and we have written to no purpose if they have notdiscovered that she was a very clever woman.

　　The elder and younger son of the house of Crawleywere, like the gentleman and lady in the weather-box,never at home together--they hated each other cordially:indeed, Rawdon Crawley, the dragoon, had a greatcontempt for the establishment altogether, and seldom camethither except when his aunt paid her annual visit.

　　The great good quality of this old lady has beenmentioned. She possessed seventy thousand pounds, andhad almost adopted Rawdon. She disliked her elder nephewexceedingly, and despised him as a milksop. In returnhe did not hesitate to state that her soul was irretrievablylost, and was of opinion that his brother's chancein the next world was not a whit better. "She is agodless woman of the world," would Mr. Crawley say; "shelives with atheists and Frenchmen. My mind shudderswhen I think of her awful, awful situation, and that,near as she is to the grave, she should be so given upto vanity, licentiousness, profaneness, and folly." In fact,the old lady declined altogether to hear his hour's lectureof an evening; and when she came to Queen's Crawleyalone, he was obliged to pretermit his usual devotionalexercises.

　　"Shut up your sarmons, Pitt, when Miss Crawleycomes down," said his father; "she has written to saythat she won't stand the preachifying."

　　"O, sir! consider the servants."

　　"The servants be hanged," said Sir Pitt; and his sonthought even worse would happen were they deprived ofthe benefit of his instruction.

　　"Why, hang it, Pitt!" said the father to his remonstrance."You wouldn't be such a flat as to let three thousand ayear go out of the family?"

　　"What is money compared to our souls, sir?" continuedMr. Crawley.

　　"You mean that the old lady won't leave the moneyto you?"--and who knows but it was Mr. Crawley'smeaning?

　　Old Miss Crawley was certainly one of the reprobate.She had a snug little house in Park Lane, and, as she ateand drank a great deal too much during the season inLondon, she went to Harrowgate or Cheltenham forthe summer. She was the most hospitable and jovial ofold vestals, and had been a beauty in her day, she said.(All old women were beauties once, we very well know.)She was a bel esprit, and a dreadful Radical for thosedays. She had been in France (where St. Just, they say,inspired her with an unfortunate passion), and loved,ever after, French novels, French cookery, and Frenchwines. She read Voltaire, and had Rousseau by heart;talked very lightly about divorce, and most energeticallyof the rights of women. She had pictures of Mr. Foxin every room in the house: when that statesman wasin opposition, I am not sure that she had not flung amain with him; and when he came into office, she tookgreat credit for bringing over to him Sir Pitt and hiscolleague for Queen's Crawley, although Sir Pitt wouldhave come over himself, without any trouble on the honestlady's part. It is needless to say that Sir Pitt was broughtto change his views after the death of the great Whigstatesman.

　　This worthy old lady took a fancy to Rawdon Crawleywhen a boy, sent him to Cambridge (in opposition tohis brother at Oxford), and, when the young man wasrequested by the authorities of the first-named Universityto quit after a residence of two years, she bought himhis commission in the Life Guards Green.

　　A perfect and celebrated "blood," or dandy about town,was this young officer. Boxing, rat-hunting, the fives court,and four-in-hand driving were then the fashion of ourBritish aristocracy; and he was an adept in all thesenoble sciences. And though he belonged to thehousehold troops, who, as it was their duty to rally round thePrince Regent, had not shown their valour in foreignservice yet, Rawdon Crawley had already (apropos ofplay, of which he was immoderately fond) fought threebloody duels, in which he gave ample proofs of hiscontempt for death.

　　"And for what follows after death," would Mr.Crawley observe, throwing his gooseberry-coloured eyesup to the ceiling. He was always thinking of his brother'ssoul, or of the souls of those who differed with him inopinion: it is a sort of comfort which many of theserious give themselves.

　　Silly, romantic Miss Crawley, far from being horrifiedat the courage of her favourite, always used to pay hisdebts after his duels; and would not listen to a wordthat was whispered against his morality. "He will sowhis wild oats," she would say, "and is worth far morethan that puling hypocrite of a brother of his."