governess, or romping with her sisters; and when she had dinner at one
o'clock; and when she wore a pinafore very likely--we secretly respected
her as the future Countess of Kew, and mother of the Viscount Walham.
Lord Kew was very happy with his bride, and very good to her. He took
Lady Kew to Paris, for a marriage trip; but they lived almost altogether
at Kewbury afterwards, where his lordship sowed tame oats now after his
wild ones, and became one of the most active farmers of his county. He
and the Newcomes were not very intimate friends; for Lord Kew was heard
to say that he disliked Barnes more after his marriage than before. And
the two sisters, Lady Clara and Lady Kew, had a quarrel on one occasion,
when the latter visited London just before the dinner at which we have
just assisted--nay, at which we are just assisting, took place,--a
quarrel about Highgate's attentions to Ethel, very likely. Kew was
dragged into it, and hot words passed between him and Jack Belsize; and
Jack did not go down to Kewbury afterwards, though Kew's little boy was
christened after him. All these interesting details about people of the
very highest rank, we are supposed to whisper in the reader's ear as we
are sitting at a Belgravian dinner-table. My dear Barmecide friend, isn't
it pleasant to be in such fine company?
And now we must tell how it is that Clive Newcome, Esq., whose eyes are
flashing fire across the flowers of the table at Lord Highgate, who is
making himself so agreeable to Miss Ethel--now we must tell how it is
that Clive and his cousin Barnes have grown to be friends again.
The Bundelcund Bank, which had been established for four years, had now
grown to be one of the most flourishing commercial institutions in
Bengal. Founded, as the prospectus announced, at a time when all private
credit was shaken by the failure of the great Agency Houses, of which the
downfall had carried dismay and ruin throughout the Presidency, the B. B.
had been established on the only sound principle of commercial
prosperity--that is association. The native capitalists, headed by the
great firm of Rummun Loll and Co., of Calcutta, had largely embarked in
the B. B., and the officers of the two services and the European
mercantile body of Calcutta had been invited to take shares in an
institution which, to merchants, native and English, civilian and
military men, was alike advantageous and indispensable. How many young
men of the latter services had been crippled for life by the ruinous cost
of agencies, of which the profits to the agents themselves were so
enormous! The shareholders of the B. B. were their own agents; and the
greatest capitalist in India as well as the youngest ensign in the
service might invest at the largest and safest premium, and borrow at the
smallest interest, by becoming according to his means, a shareholder in
the B. B. Their correspondents were established in each presidency and in
every chief city of India, as well as at Sydney, Singapore, Canton, and,
of course. London. With China they did, an immense opium-trade, of which
the profits were so great, that it was only in private sittings of the B.
B. managing committee that the details and accounts of these operations
could be brought forward. Otherwise the books of the bank were open to
every shareholder; and the ensign or the young civil servant was at
liberty at any time to inspect his own private account as well as the
common ledger. With New South Wales they carried on a vast trade in wool,
supplying that great colony with goods, which their London agents enabled
them to purchase in such a way as to give them the command of the market.
As if to add to their prosperity, coppermines were discovered on lands in
the occupation of the B. Banking Company, which gave the most astonishing
returns. And throughout the vast territories of British India, through
the great native firm of Rummun Loll and Co., the Bundelcund Banking
Company had possession of the native markets. The order from Birmingham
for idols alone (made with their copper and paid in their wool) was
enough to make the Low Church party in England cry out; and a debate upon
this subject actually took place in the House of Commons, of which the
effect was to send up the shares of the Bundelcund Banking Company very
considerably upon the London Exchange.
The fifth half-yearly dividend was announced at twelve and a quarter per
cent of the paid-up capital: the accounts from the copper-mine sent the
dividend up to a still greater height, and carried the shares to an
extraordinary premium. In the third year of the concern, the house of
Hobson Brothers, of London, became the agents of the Bundelcund Banking
Company of India and amongst our friends, James Binnie, who had prudently
held out for some time and Clive Newcome, Esq., became shareholders,
Clive's good father having paid the first instalments of the lad's shares
up in Calcutta, and invested every rupee he could himself command in this
enterprise. When Hobson Brothers joined it, no wonder James Binnie was
convinced; Clive's friend, the Frenchman, and through that connexion the
house of Higg, of Newcome and Manchester, entered into the affair; and
amongst the minor contributors in England we may mention Miss Cann, who
took a little fifty-pound-note share and dear old Miss Honeyman; and J.
J., and his father, Ridley, who brought a small bag of saving--all
knowing that their Colonel, who was eager that his friends should
participate in his good fortune, would never lead them wrong. To Clive's
surprise Mrs. Mackenzie, between whom and himself there was a
considerable coolness, came to his chambers, and with a solemn injunction
that the matter between them should be quite private, requested him to
purchase 1500 pounds worth of Bundelcund shares for her and her darling
girls, which he did, astonished to find the thrifty widow in possession
of so much money. Had Mr. Pendennis's mind not been bent at this moment
on quite other subjects, he might have increased his own fortune by the
Bundelcund Bank speculation; but in these two years I was engaged in
matrimonial affairs (having Clive Newcome, Esq., as my groomsman on a
certain interesting occasion). When we returned from our tour abroad the
India Bank shares were so very high that I did not care to purchase,
though I found an affectionate letter from our good Colonel (enjoining me
to make my fortune) awaiting me at the agent's, and my wife received a
pair of beautiful Cashmere shawls from the same kind friend.
CHAPTER XLIX
Contains at least six more Courses and two Desserts
The banker's dinner-party over, we returned to our apartments, having
dropped Major Pendennis at his lodgings, and there, as the custom is
amongst most friendly married couples, talked over the company and the
dinner. I thought my wife would naturally have liked Sir Barnes Newcome,
who was very attentive to her, took her to dinner as the bride, and
talked ceaselessly to her during the whole entertainment.
Laura said No--she did not know why--could there be any better reason?
r />
There was a tone about Sir Barnes Newcome she did not like--especially in
his manner to women.
I remarked that he spoke sharply and in a sneering manner to his wife,
and treated one or two remarks which she made as if she was an idiot.
Mrs. Pendennis flung up her head as much as to say, "and so she is."
Mr. Pendennis. What, the wife too, my dear Laura! I should have thought
such a pretty, simple, innocent young woman, with just enough good looks
to make her pass muster, who is very well bred and not brilliant at all,
--I should have thought such a one might have secured a sister's
approbation.
Mrs. Pendennis. You fancy we are all jealous of one another. No protests
of ours can take that notion out of your heads. My dear Pen, I do not
intend to try. We are not jealous of mediocrity: we are not patient of
it. I dare say we are angry because we see men admire it so. You
gentlemen, who pretend to be our betters, give yourselves such airs of
protection, and profess such a lofty superiority over us, prove it by
quitting the cleverest woman in the room for the first pair of bright
eyes and dimpled cheeks that enter. It was those charms which attracted
you in Lady Clara, sir.
Pendennis. I think she is very pretty, and very innocent, and artless.
Mrs. P. Not very pretty, and perhaps not so very artless.
Pendennis. How can you tell, you wicked woman? Are you such a profound
deceiver yourself, that you can instantly detect artifice in others? O
Laura!
Mrs. P. We can detect all sorts of things. The inferior animals have
instincts, you know. (I must say my wife is always very satirical upon
this point of the relative rank of the sexes.) One thing I am sure of is,
that she is not happy; and oh, Pen! that she does not care much for her
little girl.
Pendennis. How do you know that, my dear?
Mrs. P. We went upstairs to see the child after dinner. It was at my
wish. The mother did not offer to go. The child was awake and crying.
Lady Clara did not offer to take it. Ethel--Miss Newcome took it, rather
to my surprise, for she seems very haughty; and the nurse, who I suppose
was at supper, came running up at the noise, and then the poor little
thing was quiet.
Pendennis. I remember we heard the music as the dining-room door was
open; and Newcome said, "That is what you will have to expect,
Pendennis."
Mrs. P. Hush, sir! If my baby cries, I think you must expect me to run
out of the room. I liked Miss Newcome after seeing her with the poor
little thing. She looked so handsome as she walked with it! I longed to
have it myself.
Pendennis. Tout vient a fin, a qui sait----
Mrs. P. Don't be silly. What a dreadful dreadful place this great world
of yours is, Arthur; where husbands do not seem to care for their wives;
where mothers do not love their children; where children love their
nurses best; where men talk what they call gallantry!
Pendennis. What?
Mrs. P. Yes, such as that dreary, languid, pale, bald, cadaverous,
leering man whispered to me. Oh, how I dislike him! I am sure he is
unkind to his wife. I am sure he has a bad temper; and if there is any
excuse for----
Pendennis. For what?
Mrs. P. For nothing. But you heard yourself that he had a bad temper,
and spoke sneeringly to his wife. What could make her marry him?
Pendennis. Money, and the desire of papa and mamma. For the same reason
Clive's flame, poor Miss Newcome, was brought out to-day; that vacant
seat at her side was for Lord Farintosh. who did not come. And the
Marquis not being present, the Baron took his innings. Did you not see
how tender he was to her, and how fierce poor Clive looked?
Mrs. P. Lord Highgate was very attentive to Miss Newcome, was he?
Pendennis. And some years ago, Lord Highgate was breaking his heart
about whom do you think? about Lady Clara Pulleyn, our hostess of last
night. He was Jack Belsize then, a younger son, plunged over head and
ears in debt; and of course there could be no marriage. Clive was present
at Baden when a terrible scene took place, and carried off poor Jack to
Switzerland and Italy, where he remained till his father died, and he
came into the title in which he rejoices. And now he is off with the old
love, Laura, and on with the new. Why do you look at me so? Are you
thinking that other people have been in love two or three times too?
Mrs. P. I am thinking that I should not like to live in London, Arthur.
And this was all that Mrs. Laura could be brought to say. When this young
woman chooses to be silent, there is no power that can extract a word
from her. It is true that she is generally in the right; but that is only
the more aggravating. Indeed, what can be more provoking, after a dispute
with your wife, than to find it is you, and not she, who has been in the
wrong?
Sir Barnes Newcome politely caused us to understand that the
entertainment of which we had just partaken was given in honour of the
bride. Clive must needs not be outdone in hospitality; and invited us and
others to a fine feast at the Star and Garter at Richmond, where Mrs.
Pendennis was placed at his right hand. I smile as I think how much
dining has been already commemorated in these veracious pages; but the
story is an everyday record; and does not dining form a certain part of
the pleasure and business of every day? It is at that pleasant hour that
our set has the privilege of meeting the other. The morning man and woman
alike devote to business; or pass mainly in the company of their own
kind. John has his office; Jane her household, her nursery, her milliner,
her daughters and their masters. In the country he has his hunting, his
fishing, his farming, his letters; she her schools, her poor, her garden,
or what not. Parted through the shining hours, and improving them, let us
trust, we come together towards sunset only, we make merry and amuse
ourselves. We chat with our pretty neighbour, or survey the young ones
sporting; we make love and are jealous; we dance, or obsequiously turn
over the leaves of Cecilia's music-book; we play whist, or go to sleep in
the arm-chair, according to our ages and conditions. Snooze gently in thy
arm-chair, thou easy bald-head! play your whist, or read your novel, or
talk scandal over your work, ye worthy dowagers and fogies! Meanwhile the
young ones frisk about, or dance, or sing, or laugh; or whisper behind
curtains in moonlit windows; or shirk away into the garden, and come back
smelling of cigars; nature having made them so to do.
Nature at this time irresistibly impelled Clive Newcome towards
love-making. It was pairing-season with him. Mr. Clive was now some
three-and-twenty years old: enough has been said about his good looks,
which were in truth sufficient to make him a match for the young lady on
whom he had set his heart, and from whom, during this entertainment which
he gave to my wife, he could never keep his eyes away for three minutes.
Laura's did not need to be so keen as they wer
e in order to see what poor
Clive's condition was. She did not in the least grudge the young fellow's
inattention to herself; or feel hurt that he did not seem to listen when
she spoke; she conversed with J. J., her neighbour, who was very modest
and agreeable; while her husband, not so well pleased, had Mrs. Hobson
Newcome for his partner during the chief part of the entertainment. Mrs.
Hobson and Lady Clara were the matrons who gave the sanction of their
presence to this bachelor-party. Neither of their husbands could come to
Clive's little fete; had they not the City and the House of Commons to
attend? My uncle, Major Pendennis, was another of the guests; who for his
part found the party was what you young fellows call very slow. Dreading
Mrs. Hobson and her powers of conversation, the old gentleman nimbly
skipped out of her neighbourhood, and fell by the side of Lord Highgate,
to whom the Major was inclined to make himself very pleasant. But Lord
Highgate's broad back was turned upon his neighbour, who was forced to
tell stories to Captain Crackthorpe, which had amused dukes and marquises
in former days, and were surely quite good enough for any baron in this
realm. "Lord Highgate sweet upon la belle Newcome, is he?" said the testy
Major afterwards. "He seemed to me to talk to Lady Clara the whole time.
When I awoke in the garden after dinner, as Mrs. Hobson was telling one
of her confounded long stories, I found her audience was diminished to
one. Crackthorpe, Lord Highgate, and Lady Clara. we had all been sitting
there when the bankeress cut in (in the mid of a very good story I was
telling them, which entertained them very much), and never ceased talking
till I fell off into a doze. When I roused myself, begad, she was still
going on. Crackthorpe was off, smoking a cigar on the terrace: my Lord
and Lady Clara were nowhere; and you four, with the little painter, were
chatting cosily in another arbour. Behaved himself very well, the little
painter. Doosid good dinner Ellis gave us. But as for Highgate being aux
soins with la belle Banquiere, trust me, my boy, he is--upon my word, my
dear, it seemed to me his thoughts went quite another way. To be sure,
Lady Clara is a belle Banquiere too now. He, he, he! How could he say he
had no carriage to go home in? He came down in Crackthorpe's cab, who
passed us just now, driving back young What-dye-call the painter."
Thus did the Major discourse, as we returned towards the City. I could
see in the open carriage which followed us (Lady Clara Newcome's) Lord
Highgate's white hat, by Clive's on the back seat.
Laura looked at her husband. The same thought may have crossed their
minds, though neither uttered it; but although Sir Barnes and Lady Clara
Newcome offered us other civilities during our stay in London, no
inducements could induce Laura to accept the proffered friendship of that
lady. When Lady Clara called, my wife was not at home; when she invited
us, Laura pleaded engagements. At first she bestowed on Miss Newcome,
too, a share of this haughty dislike, and rejected the advances which
that young lady, who professed to like my wife very much, made towards an
intimacy. When I appealed to her (for Newcome's house was after all a
very pleasant one, and you met the best people there), my wife looked at
me with an expression of something like scorn, and said: "Why don't I
like Miss Newcome? Of course because I am jealous of her--all women, you
know, Arthur, are jealous of such beauties." I could get for a long while
no better explanation than these sneers, for my wife's antipathy towards
this branch of the Newcome family; but an event presently came which
silenced my remonstrances, and showed to me, that Laura had judged Barnes
and his wife only too well.