The Newcomes

by his stout old uncle.

  In due time the Gazette announced that Thomas Newcome, Esq., was returned

  as one of the Members of Parliament for the borough of Newcome; and after

  triumphant dinners, speeches, and rejoicings, the Member came back to his

  family in London, and to his affairs in that city.

  The good Colonel appeared to be by no means elated by his victory. He

  would not allow that he was wrong in engaging in that family war, of

  which we have just seen the issue; though it may be that his secret

  remorse on this account in part occasioned his disquiet. But there were

  other reasons, which his family not long afterwards came to understand,

  for the gloom and low spirits which now oppressed the head of their home.

  It was observed (that is, if simple little Rosey took the trouble to

  observe) that the entertainments at the Colonel's mansion were more

  frequent and splendid even than before; the silver cocoa-nut tree was

  constantly in requisition, and around it were assembled many new guests,

  who had not formerly been used to sit under those branches. Mr. Sherrick

  and his wife appeared at those parties, at which the proprietor of Lady

  Whittlesea's Chapel made himself perfectly familiar. Sherrick cut jokes

  with the master of the house, which the latter received with a very grave

  acquiescence; he ordered the servants about, addressing the butler as

  "Old Corkscrew," and bidding the footman, whom he loved to call by his

  Christian name, to "look alive." He called the Colonel "Newcome"

  sometimes, and facetiously speculated upon the degree of relationship

  subsisting between them now that his daughter was married to Clive's

  uncle, the Colonel's brother-in-law. Though I dare say Clive did not much

  relish receiving news of his aunt, Sherrick was sure to bring such

  intelligence when it reached him; and announced, in due time, the birth

  of a little cousin at Boggley Wollah, whom the fond parents designed to

  name "Thomas Newcome Honeyman."

  A dreadful panic and ghastly terror seized poor Clive on occasion which

  he described to me afterwards. Going out from home one day with his

  father, he beheld a wine-merchant's cart, from which hampers were carried

  down the area gate into the lower regions of Colonel Newcome's house.

  "Sherrick and Co., Wine Merchants, Walpole Street," was painted upon the

  vehicle.

  "Good heavens! sir, do you get your wine from him?" Clive cried out to

  his father, remembering Honeyman's provisions in early times. The

  Colonel, looking very gloomy and turning red, said, "Yes, he bought wine

  from Sherrick, who had been very good-natured and serviceable; and who--

  and who, you know, is our connexion now." When informed of the

  circumstance by Clive, I too, as I confess, thought the incident

  alarming.

  Then Clive, with a laugh, told me of a grand battle which had taken place

  in consequence of Mrs. Mackenzie's behaviour to the wine-merchant's wife.

  The Campaigner had treated this very kind and harmless, but vulgar woman,

  with extreme hauteur--had talked loud during her singing--the beauty of

  which, to say truth, time had considerably impaired--had made

  contemptuous observations regarding her upon more than one occasion. At

  length the Colonel broke out in great wrath against Mrs. Mackenzie--bade

  her to respect that lady as one of his guests--and, if she did not like

  the company which assembled at his house, hinted to her that there were

  many thousand other houses in London where she could find a lodging. For

  the sake of her grandchild, and her adored child, the Campaigner took no

  notice of this hint; and declined to remove from the quarter which she

  had occupied ever since she had become a grandmamma.

  I myself dined once or twice with my old friends, under the shadow of the

  pickle-bearing cocoa-nut tree; and could not but remark a change of

  personages in the society assembled. The manager of the City branch of

  the B. B. C. was always present--an ominous-looking man, whose whispers

  and compliments seemed to make poor Clive, at his end of the table, very

  melancholy. With the City manager came the City manager's friends, whose

  jokes passed gaily round, and who kept the conversation to themselves.

  Once I had the happiness to meet Mr. Ratray, who had returned, filled

  with rupees from the Indian Bank; who told us many anecdotes of the

  splendour of Rummun Loll at Calcutta, who complimented the Colonel on his

  fine house and grand dinners with sinister good-humour. Those compliments

  did not seem to please our poor friend; that familiarity choked him. A

  brisk little chattering attorney, very intimate with Sherrick, with a

  wife of dubious gentility, was another constant guest. He enlivened the

  table by his jokes, and recounted choice stories about the aristocracy,

  with certain members of whom the little man seemed very familiar. He knew

  to a shilling how much this lord owed--and how much the creditors allowed

  to that marquis. He had been concerned with such and such a nobleman, who

  was now in the Queen's Bench. He spoke of their lordships affably and

  without their titles--calling upon "Louisa, my dear," his wife, to

  testify to the day when Viscount Tagrag dined with them, and Earl

  Bareacres sent them the pheasants. F. B., as sombre and downcast as his

  hosts now seemed to be, informed me demurely that the attorney was a

  member of one of the most eminent firms in the City--that he had been

  engaged in procuring the Colonel's parliamentary title for him--and in

  various important matters appertaining to the B. B. C.; but my knowledge

  of the world and the law was sufficient to make me aware that this

  gentleman belonged to a well-known firm of money-lending solicitors, and

  I trembled to see such a person in the home of our good Colonel. Where

  were the generals and the judges? Where were the fogies and their

  respectable ladies? Stupid they were, and dull their company; but better

  a stalled ox in their society, than Mr. Campion's jokes over Mr.

  Sherrick's wines.

  After the little rebuke administered by Colonel Newcome, Mrs. Mackenzie

  abstained from overt hostilities against any guests of her daughter's

  father-in-law; and contented herself by assuming grand and princess-like

  airs in the company of the new ladies. They flattered her and poor little

  Rosa intensely. The latter liked their company, no doubt. To a man of the

  world looking on, who has seen the men and morals of many cities, it was

  curious, almost pathetic, to watch that poor little innocent creature

  fresh and smiling, attired in bright colours and a thousand gewgaws,

  simpering in the midst of these darkling people--practising her little

  arts and coquetries, with such a court round about her. An unconscious

  little maid, with rich and rare gems sparkling on all her fingers, and

  bright gold rings as many as belonged to the late Old Woman of Banbury

  Cross--still she smiled and prattled innocently before these banditti--I

  thought of Zerlina and the Brigands, in Fra Diavolo.

  Walking away with F. B. from one of these parties of the Colonel's, and

  seriously alarmed at what I had observed th
ere, I demanded of Bayham

  whether my conjectures were not correct, that some misfortune overhung

  our old friend's house? At first Bayham denied stoutly or pretended

  ignorance; but at length, having reached the Haunt together, which I had

  not visited since I was a married man, we entered that place of

  entertainment, and were greeted by its old landlady and waitress, and

  accommodated with a quiet parlour. And here F. B., after groaning and

  sighing--after solacing himself with a prodigious quantity of bitter

  beer--fairly burst out, and, with tears in his eyes, made a full and sad

  confession respecting this unlucky Bundelcund Banking Company. The shares

  had been going lower and lower, so that there was no sale now for them at

  all. To meet the liabilities, the directors must have undergone the

  greatest sacrifices. He did know--he did not like to think what the

  Colonel's personal losses were. The respectable solicitors of the Company

  had retired, long since, after having secured payment of a most

  respectable bill; and had given place to the firm of dubious law-agents

  of whom I had that evening seen a partner. How the retiring partners from

  India had been allowed to withdraw, and to bring fortunes along with

  them, was a mystery to Mr. Frederick Bayham. The great Indian

  millionnaire was in his, F. B.'s eyes, "a confounded mahogany-coloured

  heathen humbug." These fine parties which the Colonel was giving, and

  that fine carriage which was always flaunting about the Park with poor

  Mrs. Clive and the Campaigner, and the nurse and the baby, were, in F.

  B.'s opinion, all decoys and shams. He did not mean to say that the meals

  were not paid, and that the Colonel had to plunder for his horses' corn;

  but he knew that Sherrick, and the attorney, and the manager, insisted

  upon the necessity of giving these parties, and keeping up this state and

  grandeur, and opined that it was at the special instance of these

  advisers that the Colonel had contested the borough for which he was now

  returned. "Do you know how much that contest cost?" asks F. B. "The sum,

  sir, was awful! and we have ever so much of it to pay. I came up twice

  myself from Newcome to Campion and Sherrick about it. I betray no

  secrets--F. B., sir, would die a thousand deaths before he would tell the

  secrets of his benefactor!--But, Pendennis, you understand a thing or

  two. You know what o'clock it is, and so does yours truly, F. B., who

  drinks your health. I know the taste of Sherrick's wine well enough.

  F. B., sir, fears the Greeks and all the gifts they bring. Confound his

  Amontillado! I had rather drink this honest malt and hops all my life

  than ever see a drop of his abominable sherry. Golden? F. B. believes it

  is golden--and a precious deal dearer than gold too"--and herewith,

  ringing the bell, my friend asked for a second pint of the just-named and

  cheaper fluid.

  I have of late had to recount portions of my dear old friend's history

  which must needs be told, and over which the writer does not like to

  dwell. If Thomas Newcome's opulence was unpleasant to describe, and to

  contrast with the bright goodness and simplicity I remembered in former

  days, how much more painful is that part of his story to which we are now

  come perforce, and which the acute reader of novels has, no doubt, long

  foreseen? Yes, sir or madam, you are quite right in the opinion which you

  have held all along regarding that Bundelcund Banking Company, in which

  our Colonel has invested every rupee he possesses, Solvuntur rupees, etc.

  I disdain, for the most part, the tricks and surprises of the novelist's

  art. Knowing, from the very beginning of our story, what was the issue of

  this Bundelcund Banking concern, I have scarce had patience to keep my

  counsel about it; and whenever I have had occasion to mention the

  Company, have scarcely been able to refrain from breaking out into fierce

  diatribes against that complicated, enormous, outrageous swindle. It was

  one of many similar cheats which have been successfully practised upon

  the simple folks, civilian and military, who toil and struggle--who fight

  with sun and enemy--who pass years of long exile and gallant endurance in

  the service of our empire in India. Agency houses after agency houses

  have been established, and have flourished in splendour and magnificence,

  and have paid fabulous dividends--and have enormously enriched two or

  three wary speculators--and then have burst in bankruptcy, involving

  widows, orphans, and countless simple people who trusted their all to the

  keeping of these unworthy treasurers.

  The failure of the Bundelcund Bank which we now have to record, was one

  only of many similar schemes ending in ruin. About the time when Thomas

  Newcome was chaired as Member of Parliament for the borough of which he

  bore the name, the great Indian merchant who was at the head of the

  Bundelcund Banking Company's affairs at Calcutta, suddenly died of

  cholera at his palace at Barackpore. He had been giving of late a series

  of the most splendid banquets with which Indian prince ever entertained a

  Calcutta society. The greatest and proudest personages of that

  aristocratic city had attended his feasts. The fairest Calcutta beauties

  had danced in his halls. Did not poor F. B. transfer from the columns of

  the Bengal Hurkaru to the Pall Mall Gazette the most astounding

  descriptions of those Asiatic Nights Entertainments, of which the very

  grandest was to come off on the night when cholera seized Rummun Loll in

  its grip? There was to have been a masquerade outvying all European

  masquerades in splendour. The two rival queens of the Calcutta society

  were to have appeared each with her court around her. Young civilians at

  the College, and young ensigns fresh landed, had gone into awful expenses

  and borrowed money at interest from the B. B. C. and other banking

  companies, in order to appear with befitting splendour as knights and

  noblemen of Henrietta Maria's Court (Henrietta Maria, wife of Hastings

  Hicks, Esq., Sudder Dewanee Adawlut), or as princes and warriors

  surrounding the palanquin of Lalla Rookh (the lovely wife of Hon.

  Cornwallis Bobus, Member of Council): all these splendours were there. As

  carriage after carriage drove up from Calcutta, they were met at Rummun

  Loll's gate by ghastly weeping servants, who announced their master's

  demise.

  On the next day the Bank at Calcutta was closed, and the day after, when

  heavy bills were presented which must be paid, although by this time

  Rummun Loll was not only dead but buried, and his widows howling over his

  grave, it was announced throughout Calcutta that but 800 rupees were left

  in the treasury of the B. B. C. to meet engagements to the amount of four

  lakhs then immediately due, and sixty days afterwards the shutters were

  closed at No. 175 Lothbury, the London offices of the B. B. C. of India,

  and 35,000 pounds worth of their bills refused by their agents, Messrs.

  Baines, Jolly and Co., of Fog Court.

  When the accounts of that ghastly bankruptcy arrived from Calcutta, it

  was found, of course, that the merchant-prince Rummun
Loll owed the

  B. B. C. twenty-five lakhs of rupees, the value of which was scarcely

  even represented by his respectable signature. It was found that one of

  the auditors of the bank, the generally esteemed Charley Conder (a

  capital fellow, famous for his good dinners, and for playing low-comedy

  characters at the Chowringhee Theatre), was indebted to the bank in

  90,000 pounds; and also it was discovered that the revered Baptist

  Bellman, Chief Registrar of the Calcutta Tape and Sealing-Wax Office (a

  most valuable and powerful amateur preacher who had converted two

  natives, and whose serious soirees were thronged at Calcutta), had helped

  himself to 73,000 pounds more, for which he settled in the Bankruptcy

  Court before he resumed his duties in his own. In justice to Mr. Bellman,

  it must be said that he could have had no idea of the catastrophe

  impending over the B. B. C. For, only three weeks before that great bank

  closed its doors, Mr. Bellman, as guardian of the children of his widowed

  sister Mrs. Green, had sold the whole of the late Colonel's property out

  of Company's paper and invested it in the bank, which gave a high

  interest, and with bills of which, drawn upon their London

  correspondents, he had accommodated Mrs. Colonel Green when she took her

  departure for Europe with her numerous little family on board the

  Burrumpooter.

  And now you have the explanation of the title of this chapter, and know

  wherefore Thomas Newcome never sat in Parliament. Where are our dear old

  friends now? Where are Rosey's chariots and horses? Where her jewels and

  gewgaws? Bills are up in the fine new house. Swarms of Hebrew gentlemen

  with their hats on are walking about the drawing-rooms, peering into the

  bedrooms, weighing and poising the poor old silver cocoa-nut tree, eyeing

  the plate and crystal, thumbing the damask of the curtains, and

  inspecting ottomans, mirrors, and a hundred articles of splendid

  trumpery. There is Rosey's boudoir which her father-in-law loved to

  ornament--there is Clive's studio with a hundred sketches--there is the

  Colonel's bare room at the top of the house, with his little iron

  bedstead and ship's drawers, and a camel trunk or two which have

  accompanied him on many an Indian march, and his old regulation sword,

  and that one which the native officers of his regiment gave him when he

  bade them farewell. I can fancy the brokers' faces as they look over this

  camp wardrobe, and that the uniforms will not fetch much in Holywell

  Street. There is the old one still, and that new one which he ordered and

  wore when poor little Rosey was presented at court. I had not the heart

  to examine their plunder, and go amongst those wreckers. F. B. used to

  attend the sale regularly, and report its proceedings to us with eyes

  full of tears. "A fellow laughed at me," says F. B., "because when I came

  into the dear old drawing-room I took my hat off. I told him that if he

  dared say another word I would knock him down." I think F. B. may be

  pardoned in this instance for emulating the office of auctioneer. Where

  are you, pretty Rosey and poor little helpless baby? Where are you, dear

  Clive--gallant young friend of my youth? Ah! it is a sad story--a

  melancholy page to pen! Let us pass it over quickly--I love not to think

  of my friend in pain.

  CHAPTER LXXI

  In which Mrs. Clive Newcome's Carriage is ordered

  All the friends of the Newcome family, of course, knew the disaster which

  had befallen the good Colonel, and I was aware, for my own part, that not

  only his own, but almost the whole of Rosa Newcome's property was

  involved in the common ruin. Some proposals of temporary relief were made

  to our friends from more quarters than one, but were thankfully rejected

  --and we were led to hope that the Colonel, having still his pension

  secured to him, which the law could not touch, might live comfortably