Vanity Fair - Page 9/573

"O Rebecca, Rebecca, for shame!" cried Miss Sedley; for this was the

greatest blasphemy Rebecca had as yet uttered; and in those days, in

England, to say, "Long live Bonaparte!" 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," answered Miss Rebecca. "I'm

no angel." And, to say the truth, she certainly was not.

For it may be remarked in the course of this little conversation (which

took place as the coach rolled along lazily by the river side) that

though Miss Rebecca Sharp has twice had occasion to thank Heaven, it

has been, in the first place, for ridding her of some person whom she

hated, and secondly, for enabling her to bring her enemies to some sort

of perplexity or confusion; neither of which are very amiable motives

for religious gratitude, or such as would be put forward by persons of

a kind and placable disposition. Miss Rebecca was not, then, in the

least kind or placable. All the world used her ill, said this young

misanthropist, and we may be pretty certain that persons whom all the

world treats ill, deserve entirely the treatment they get. The world

is a looking-glass, and gives back to every man the reflection of his

own face. Frown at it, and it will in turn look sourly upon you; laugh

at it and with it, and it is a jolly kind companion; 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 in

behalf of anybody; nor can it be expected that twenty-four young ladies

should all be as amiable as the heroine of this work, Miss Sedley (whom

we have selected for the very reason that she was the best-natured of

all, otherwise what on earth was to have prevented us from putting up

Miss Swartz, or Miss Crump, or Miss Hopkins, as heroine in her place!)

it could not be expected that every one should be of the humble and

gentle temper of Miss Amelia Sedley; should take every opportunity to

vanquish Rebecca's hard-heartedness and ill-humour; and, by a thousand

kind words and offices, overcome, for once at least, her hostility to

her kind.

Miss Sharp's father was an artist, and in that quality had given

lessons of drawing at Miss Pinkerton's school. He was a clever man; a

pleasant companion; a careless student; with a great propensity for

running into debt, and a partiality for the tavern. When he was drunk,

he used to beat his wife and daughter; and the next morning, with a

headache, he would rail at the world for its neglect of his genius, and

abuse, with a good deal of cleverness, and sometimes with perfect

reason, the fools, his brother painters. As it was with the utmost

difficulty that he could keep himself, and as he owed money for a mile

round Soho, where he lived, he thought to better his circumstances by

marrying a young woman of the French nation, who was by profession an

opera-girl. The humble calling of her female parent Miss Sharp never

alluded to, but used to state subsequently that the Entrechats were a

noble family of Gascony, and took great pride in her descent from them.

And curious it is that as she advanced in life this young lady's

ancestors increased in rank and splendour.