upon the Serpentine; racing and laughing, and making merry; and as I
looked on, Master Hastings Huckaback's boat went down! Absit omen,
Pendennis! I was moved by the circumstance. F. B. hopes that the child's
father's argosy may not meet with shipwreck!"
"You mean the little yellow-faced man whom we met at Colonel Newcome's?"
says Mr. Pendennis.
"I do, sir," growled F. B. "You know that he is a brother director with
our Colonel in the Bundelcund Bank?"
"Gracious Heavens!" I cried, in sincere anxiety, "nothin has happened, I
hope, to the Bundelcund Bank?"
"No," answers the other, "nothing has happened, the good ship is safe,
sir, as yet. But she has narrowly escaped a great danger, Pendennis,"
cries F. B., gripping my arm with great energy, "there was a traitor in
her crew--she has weathered the storm nobly--who would have sent her on
the rocks, sir, who would have scuttled her at midnight."
"Pray drop your nautical metaphors, and tell me what you mean," cries
F. B.'s companion, and Bayham continued his narration.
"Were you in the least conversant with City affairs," he said, "or did
you deign to visit the spot where merchants mostly congregate, you would
have heard the story, which was over the whole City yesterday, and spread
dismay from Threadneedle Street to Leadenhall. The story is, that the
firm of Hobson Brothers and Newcome, yesterday refused acceptance of
thirty thousand pounds' worth of bills of the Bundelcund Banking Company
of India.
"The news came like a thunderclap upon the London Board of Directors, who
had received no notice of the intentions of Hobson Brothers, and caused a
dreadful panic amongst the shareholders of the concern. The board-room
was besieged by colonels and captains, widows and orphans; within an hour
after protest of bills were taken up, and you will see, in the City
article of the Globe this very evening, an announcement that henceforward
the house of Baines and Jolly, of Job Court, will meet engagements of the
Bundelcund Banking Company of India, being provided with ample funds to
do honour to every possible liability of that Company. But the shares
fell, sir, in consequence of the panic. I hope they will rally. I trust
and believe they will rally. For our good Colonel's sake and that of his
friends, for the sake of the innocent children sporting by the Serpentine
yonder.
"I had my suspicions when they gave that testimonial," said F. B. "In my
experience of life, sir, I always feel rather shy about testimonials, and
when a party gets one, somehow look out to hear of his smashing the next
month. Absit omen! I will say again. I like not the going down of yonder
little yacht."
The Globe sure enough contained a paragraph that evening announcing the
occurrence which Mr. Bayham had described, and the temporary panic which
it had occasioned, and containing an advertisement stating that Messrs.
Baines and Jolly would henceforth act as agents of the Indian Company.
Legal proceedings were presently threatened by the solicitors of the
Company against the banking firm which had caused so much mischief. Mr.
Hobson Newcome was absent abroad when the circumstance took place, and it
was known that the protest of the bills was solely attributable to his
nephew and partner. But after the break between the two firms, there was
a rupture between Hobson's family and Colonel Newcome. The exasperated
Colonel vowed that his brother and his nephew were traitors alike, and
would have no further dealings with one or the other. Even poor innocent
Sam Newcome, coming up to London from Oxford, where he had been plucked,
and offering a hand to Clive, was frowned away by our Colonel, who spoke
in terms of great displeasure to his son for taking the least notice of
the young traitor.
Our Colonel was changed, changed in his heart, changed in his whole
demeanour towards the world, and above all towards his son, for whom he
had made so many kind sacrifices in his old days. We have said how, ever
since Clive's marriage, a tacit strife had been growing up between father
and son. The boy's evident unhappiness was like a reproach to his father.
His very silence angered the old man. His want of confidence daily chafed
and annoyed him. At the head of a large fortune, which he rightly
persisted in spending, he felt angry with himself because he could not
enjoy it, angry with his son, who should have helped him in the
administration of his new estate, and who was but a listless, useless
member of the little confederacy, a living protest against all the
schemes of the good man's past life. The catastrophe in the City again
brought father and son together somewhat, and the vindictiveness of both
was roused by Barnes's treason. Time was when the Colonel himself would
have viewed his kinsman more charitably, but fate and circumstance had
angered that originally friendly and gentle disposition; hate and
suspicion had mastered him, and if it cannot be said that his new life
had changed him, at least it had brought out faults for which there had
hitherto been no occasion, and qualities latent before. Do we know
ourselves, or what good or evil circumstance may bring from us? Did Cain
know, as he and his younger brother played round their mother's knee,
that the little hand which caressed Abel should one day grow larger, and
seize a brand to slay him? Thrice fortunate he, to whom circumstance is
made easy: whom fate visits with gentle trial, and kindly Heaven keeps
out of temptation.
In the stage which the family feud now reached, and which the biographer
of the Newcomes is bound to describe, there is one gentle moralist who
gives her sentence decidedly against Clive's father; whilst on the other
hand a rough philosopher and friend of mine, whose opinions used to have
some weight with me, stoutly declares that they were right. "War and
justice are good things," says George Warrington, rattling his clenched
fist on the table. "I maintain them, and the common sense of the world
maintains them, against the preaching of all the Honeymans that ever
puled from the pulpit. I have not the least objection in life to a rogue
being hung. When a scoundrel is whipped I am pleased, and say, serve him
right. If any gentleman will horsewhip Sir Barnes Newcome, Baronet, I
shall not be shocked, but, on the contrary, go home and order an extra
mutton-chop for dinner."
"Ah! revenge is wrong, Pen," pleads the other counsellor.
"Let alone that the wisest and best of all Judges has condemned it. It
blackens the hearts of men. It distorts their views of right. It sets
them to devise evil. It causes them to think unjustly of others. It is
not the noblest return for injury, not even the bravest way of meeting
it. The greatest courage is to bear persecution, not to answer when you
are reviled, and when wrong has been done you to forgive. I am sorry for
what you call the Colonel's triumph and his enemy's humiliation. Let
Barnes be as odious as you will, he ought never to have humiliated
Ethel's brother; but he is weak.
Other gentlemen as well are weak, Mr.
Pen, although you are so much cleverer than women. I have no patience
with the Colonel, and I beg you to tell him, whether he asks you or not
that he has lost my good graces, and that I for one will not huzzah at
what his friends and flatterers call his triumphs, and that I don't think
in this instance he has acted like the dear Colonel, and the good
Colonel, and the good Christian that I once thought him."
We must now tell what the Colonel and Clive had been doing, and what
caused two such different opinions respecting their conduct from the two
critics just named. The refusal of the London Banking House to accept the
bills of the Great Indian Company of course affected very much the credit
of that Company in this country. Sedative announcements were issued by
the Directors in London; brilliant accounts of the Company's affairs
abroad were published; proof incontrovertible was given that the B. B. C.
was never in so flourishing a state as at that time when Hobson Brothers
had refused its drafts; there could be no question that the Company had
received a severe wound and was deeply if not vitally injured by the
conduct of the London firm.
The propensity to sell out became quite epidemic amongst the
shareholders. Everybody was anxious to realise. Why, out of the thirty
names inscribed on poor Mrs. Clive's cocoa-nut tree no less than twenty
deserters might be mentioned, or at least who would desert could they
find an opportunity of doing so with arms and baggage. Wrathfully the
good Colonel scratched the names of those faithless ones out of his
daughter's visiting-book: haughtily he met them in the street; to desert
the B. B. C. at the hour of peril was, in his idea, like applying for
leave of absence on the eve of an action. He would not see that the
question was not one of sentiment at all, but of chances and arithmetic;
he would not hear with patience of men quitting the ship, as he called
it. "They may go, sir," says he, "but let them never more be officers of
mine." With scorn and indignation he paid off one or two timid friends,
who were anxious to fly, and purchased their shares out of his own
pocket. But his purse was not long enough for this kind of amusement.
What money he had was invested in the Company already, and his name
further pledged for meeting the engagements from which their late London
bankers had withdrawn.
Those gentlemen, in the meanwhile, spoke of their differences with the
Indian Bank as quite natural, and laughed at the absurd charges of
personal hostility which poor Thomas Newcome publicly preferred. "Here is
a hot-headed old Indian dragoon," says Sir Barnes, "who knows no more
about business than I do about cavalry tactics or Hindostanee; who gets
into a partnership along with other dragoons and Indian wiseacres, with
some uncommonly wily old native practitioners; and they pay great
dividends, and they set up a bank. Of course we will do these people's
business as long as we are covered, but I have always told their manager
that we would run no risks whatever, and close the account the very
moment it did not suit us to keep it: and so we parted company six weeks
ago, since when there has been a panic in the Company, a panic which has
been increased by Colonel Newcome's absurd swagger and folly. He says I
am his enemy; enemy indeed! So I am in private life, but what has that to
do with business? In business, begad, there are no friends and no enemies
at all. I leave all my sentiment on the other side of Temple Bar."
So Thomas Newcome, and Clive the son of Thomas, had wrath in their hearts
against Barnes, their kinsman, and desired to be revenged upon him, and
were eager after his undoing, and longed for an opportunity when they
might meet him and overcome him, and put him to shame.
When men are in this frame of mind, a certain personage is said always to
be at hand to help them and give them occasion for indulging in their
pretty little passion. What is sheer hate seems to the individual
entertaining the sentiment so like indignant virtue, that he often
indulges in the propensity to the full, nay, lauds himself for the
exercise of it. I am sure if Thomas Newcome in his present desire for
retaliation against Barnes, had known the real nature of his sentiments
towards that worthy, his conduct would have been different, and we should
have heard of no such active hostilities as ensued.
CHAPTER LXV
In which Mrs. Clive comes into her Fortune
Speaking of the affairs of B. B. C., Sir Barnes Newcome always took care
to maintain his candid surprise relating to the proceedings of that
Company. He set about evil reports against it! He endeavour to do it a
wrong--absurd! If a friend were to ask him (and it was quite curious what
a number did manage to ask him) whether he thought the Company was an
advantageous investment, of course he would give an answer. He could not
say conscientiously he thought so--never once had said so--in the time of
their connexion, which had been formed solely with a view of obliging his
amiable uncle. It was a quarrelsome Company; a dragoon Company; a Company
of gentlemen accustomed to gunpowder, and fed on mulligatawny. He,
forsooth, be hostile to it! There were some Companies that required no
enemies at all, and would be pretty sure to go to the deuce their own
way.
Thus, and with this amiable candour, spake Barnes, about a commercial
speculation, the merits of which he had a right to canvass as well as any
other citizen. As for Uncle Hobson, his conduct was characterised by a
timidity which one would scarcely have expected from a gentleman of his
florid, jolly countenance, active habits, and generally manly demeanour.
He kept away from the cocoa-nut feast, as we have seen: he protested
privily to the Colonel that his private goodwill continued undiminished
but he was deeply grieved at the B. B. C. affair, which took place while
he was on the Continent--confound the Continent, my wife would go--and
which was entirely without his cognisance. The Colonel received his
brother's excuses, first with awful bows and ceremony, and finally with
laughter. "My good Hobson," said he, with the most insufferable kindness,
"of course you intended to be friendly; of course the affair was done
without your knowledge. We understand that sort of thing. London bankers
have no hearts--for these last fifty years past that I have known you and
your brother, and my amiable nephew, the present commanding officer, has
there been anything in your conduct that has led me to suppose you had?"
and herewith Colonel Newcome burst out into a laugh. It was not a
pleasant laugh to hear. Worthy Hobson took his hat, and walked away,
brushing it round and round, and looking very confused. The Colonel
strode after him downstairs, and made him an awful bow at the hall door.
Never again did Hobson Newcome set foot in that Tyburnian mansion.
During the whole of that season of the testimonial the cocoa-nut figured
in an extraordinary number of banquets. The Colonel's hos
pitalities were
more profuse than ever, and Mrs. Clive's toilettes more brilliant. Clive,
in his confidential conversations with his friends, was very dismal and
gloomy. When I asked City news of our well-informed friend F. B., I am
sorry to say, his countenance became funereal. The B. B. C. shares, which
had been at an immense premium twelve months since, were now slowly
falling, falling.
"I wish," said Mr. Sherrick to me, "the Colonel would realise, even now,
like that Mr. Ratray who has just come out of the ship, and brought a
hundred thousand pounds with him."
"Come out of the ship! You little know the Colonel, Mr. Sherrick, if you
think he will ever do that."
Mr. Ratray, though he had returned to Europe, gave the most cheering
accounts of the B. B. C. It was in the most flourishing state. Shares
sure to get up again. He had sold out entirely on account of his liver.
Must come home--the doctor said so.
Some months afterwards, another director, Mr. Hedges, came home. Both of
these gentlemen, as we know, entertained the fashionable world, got seats
in Parliament, purchased places in the country, and were greatly
respected. Mr. Hedges came out, but his wealthy partner, Mr. M'Gaspey,
entered into the B. B. C. The entry of Mr. M'Gaspey into the affairs of
the Companyt did not seem to produce very great excitement in England.
The shares slowly fell. However, there was a prodigious indigo crop. The
London manager was in perfect good-humour. In spite of this and that, of
defections, of unpleasantries, of unfavourable whispers, and doubtful
friends--Thomas Newcome kept his head high, and his face was always kind
and smiling, except when certain family enemies were mentioned, and he
frowned like Jove in anger.
We have seen how very fond little Rosey was of her mamma, of her uncle,
James Binnie, and now of her papa, as she affectionately styled Thomas
Newcome. This affection, I am sure, the two gentlemen returned with all
their hearts, and but that they were much too generous and simple-minded
to entertain such a feeling. It may be wondered that the two good old
boys were not a little jealous of one another. Howbeit it does not appear
that they entertained such a feeling; at least it never interrupted the
kindly friendship between them, and Clive was regarded in the light of a
son by both of them, and each contented himself with his moiety of the
smiling little girl's affection.
As long as they were with her, the truth is, little Mrs. Clive was very
fond of people, very docile, obedient, easily pleased, brisk, kind, and
good-humoured. She charmed her two old friends with little songs, little
smiles,--little kind offices, little caresses; and having administered
Thomas Newcome's cigar to him in the daintiest, prettiest way, she would
trip off to drive with James Binnie, or sit at his dinner, if he was
indisposed, and be as gay, neat-handed, watchful, and attentive a child
as any old gentleman could desire.
She did not seem to be very sorry to part with mamma, a want of feeling
which that lady bitterly deplored in her subsequent conversation with her
friends about Mrs. Clive Newcome. Possibly there were reasons why Rosey
should not be very much vexed at quitting mamma; but surely she might
have dropped a little tear as she took leave of kind, good old James
Binnie. Not she. The gentleman's voice faltered, but hers did not in the
least. She kissed him on the face, all smiles, blushes, and happiness,
and tripped into the railway carriage with her husband and
father-in-law, leaving the poor old uncle very sad. Our women said, I
know not why, that little Rosey had no heart at all. Women are accustomed
to give such opinions respecting the wives of their newly married
friends. I am bound to add (and I do so during Mr. Clive Newcome's