Vanity Fair - Page 91/573

We have talked of shift, self, and poverty, as those dismal instructors

under whom poor Miss Becky Sharp got her education. Now, love was Miss

Amelia Sedley's last tutoress, and it was amazing what progress our

young lady made under that popular teacher. In the course of fifteen

or eighteen months' daily and constant attention to this eminent

finishing governess, what a deal of secrets Amelia learned, which Miss

Wirt and the black-eyed young ladies over the way, which old Miss

Pinkerton of Chiswick herself, had no cognizance of! As, indeed, how

should any of those prim and reputable virgins? With Misses P. and W.

the tender passion is out of the question: I would not dare to breathe

such an idea regarding them. Miss Maria Osborne, it is true, was

"attached" to Mr. Frederick Augustus Bullock, of the firm of Hulker,

Bullock & Bullock; but hers was a most respectable attachment, and she

would have taken Bullock Senior just the same, her mind being fixed--as

that of a well-bred young woman should be--upon a house in Park Lane, a

country house at Wimbledon, a handsome chariot, and two prodigious tall

horses and footmen, and a fourth of the annual profits of the eminent

firm of Hulker & Bullock, all of which advantages were represented in

the person of Frederick Augustus. Had orange blossoms been invented

then (those touching emblems of female purity imported by us from

France, where people's daughters are universally sold in marriage),

Miss Maria, I say, would have assumed the spotless wreath, and stepped

into the travelling carriage by the side of gouty, old, bald-headed,

bottle-nosed Bullock Senior; and devoted her beautiful existence to his

happiness with perfect modesty--only the old gentleman was married

already; so she bestowed her young affections on the junior partner.

Sweet, blooming, orange flowers! The other day I saw Miss Trotter

(that was), arrayed in them, trip into the travelling carriage at St.

George's, Hanover Square, and Lord Methuselah hobbled in after. With

what an engaging modesty she pulled down the blinds of the chariot--the

dear innocent! There were half the carriages of Vanity Fair at the

wedding.

This was not the sort of love that finished Amelia's education; and in

the course of a year turned a good young girl into a good young

woman--to be a good wife presently, when the happy time should come.

This young person (perhaps it was very imprudent in her parents to

encourage her, and abet her in such idolatry and silly romantic ideas)

loved, with all her heart, the young officer in His Majesty's service

with whom we have made a brief acquaintance. She thought about him the

very first moment on waking; and his was the very last name mentioned

in her prayers. She never had seen a man so beautiful or so clever:

such a figure on horseback: such a dancer: such a hero in general.

Talk of the Prince's bow! what was it to George's? She had seen Mr.

Brummell, whom everybody praised so. Compare such a person as that to

her George! Not amongst all the beaux at the Opera (and there were

beaux in those days with actual opera hats) was there any one to equal

him. He was only good enough to be a fairy prince; and oh, what

magnanimity to stoop to such a humble Cinderella! Miss Pinkerton would

have tried to check this blind devotion very likely, had she been

Amelia's confidante; but not with much success, depend upon it. It is

in the nature and instinct of some women. Some are made to scheme, and

some to love; and I wish any respected bachelor that reads this may

take the sort that best likes him.