The Newcomes

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