absence from England, otherwise I should not like to venture upon the
statement), that some men concur with the ladies' opinion of Mrs. Clive.
For instance, Captains Goby and Hoby declare that her treatment of the
latter, her encouragement, and desertion of him when Clive made his
proposals, were shameful.
At this time Rosey was in a pupillary state. A good, obedient little
girl, her duty was to obey the wishes of her dear mamma. How show her
sense of virtue and obedience better than by promptly and cheerfully
obeying mamma, and at the orders of that experienced Campaigner, giving
up Bobby Hoby, and going to England to a fine house, to be presented at
Court, to have all sorts of pleasure with a handsome young husband and a
kind father-in-law by her side? No wonder Rosey was not in a very active
state of grief at parting from Uncle James. He strove to console himself
with these considerations when he had returned to the empty house, where
she had danced, and smiled, and warbled; and he looked at the chair she
sat in; and at the great mirror which had so often reflected her fresh
pretty face;--the great callous mirror, which now only framed upon its
shining sheet the turban, and the ringlets, and the plump person, and the
resolute smile of the old Campaigner.
After that parting with her uncle at the Brussels railway, Rosey never
again beheld him. He passed into the Campaigner's keeping, from which
alone he was rescued by the summons of pallid death. He met that summons
like a philosopher; rejected rather testily all the mortuary consolations
which his nephew-in-law, Josey's husband, thought proper to bring to his
bedside; and uttered opinions which scandalised that divine. But as he
left Mrs. M'Craw only 500 pounds, thrice that sum to his sister, and the
remainder of his property to his beloved niece, Rosa Mackenzie, now Rosa
Newcome, let us trust that Mr. M'Craw, hurt and angry at the ill-favour
shown to his wife, his third young wife, his best-beloved Josey, at the
impatience with which the deceased had always received his, Mr. M'Craw's,
own sermons;--let us hope, I say, that the reverend gentleman was
mistaken in his views respecting the present position of Mr. James
Binnie's soul; and that Heaven may have some regions yet accessible to
James, which Mr. M'Craw's intellect has not yet explored. Look,
gentlemen! Does a week pass without the announcement of the discovery of
a new comet in the sky, a new star in the heaven, twinkling dimly out of
a yet farther distance, and only now becoming visible to human ken though
existent for ever and ever? So let us hope divine truths may be shining,
and regions of light and love extant, which Geneva glasses cannot yet
perceive, and are beyond the focus of Roman telescopes.
I think Clive and the Colonel were more affected by the news of James's
death than Rosey, concerning whose wonderful strength of mind good Thomas
Newcome discoursed to my Laura and me, when, fancying that my friend's
wife needed comfort and consolation, Mrs. Pendennis went to visit her.
"Of course we shall have no more parties this year," sighed Rosey. She
looked very pretty in her black dress. Clive, in his hearty way, said a
hundred kind feeling things about the departed friend. Thomas Newcome's
recollections of him, and regret, were no less tender and sincere. "See,"
says he, "how that dear child's sense of duty makes her hide her
feelings! Her grief is most deep, but she wears a calm countenance. I see
her looking sad in private, but I no sooner speak than she smiles." "I
think," said Laura, as we came away, "that Colonel Newcome performs all
the courtship part in the marriage, and Clive, poor Clive, though he
spoke very nobly and generously about Mr. Binnie, I am sure it is not his
old friend's death merely, which makes him so unhappy."
Poor Clive, by right of his wife, was now rich Clive; the little lady
having inherited from her kind relative no inconsiderable sum of money.
In a very early part of this story, mention has been made of a small sum
producing one hundred pounds a year, which Clive's father had made over
to the lad when he sent him from India. This little sum Mr. Clive had
settled upon his wife before his marriage, being indeed all he had of his
own; for the famous bank shares which his father presented to him, were
only made over formally when the young man came to London after his
marriage, and at the paternal request and order appeared as a most
inefficient director of the B. B. C. Now Mrs. Newcome, of her
inheritance, possessed not only B. B. C. shares, but moneys in bank, and
shares in East India Stock, so that Clive in the right of his wife had a
seat in the assembly of East India shareholders, and a voice in the
election of directors of that famous company. I promise you Mrs. Clive
was a personage of no little importance. She carried her little head with
an aplomb and gravity which amused some of us. F. B. bent his most
respectfully down before her; she sent him on messages, and deigned to
ask him to dinner. He once more wore a cheerful countenance; the clouds
which gathered o'er the sun of Newcome were in the bosom of the ocean
buried, Bayham said, by James Binnie's brilliant behaviour to his niece.
Clive was a proprietor of East India Stock, and had a vote in electing
the directors of that Company; and who so fit to be a director of his
affairs as Thomas Newcome, Esq., Companion of the Bath, and so long a
distinguished officer in its army? To hold this position of director,
used, up to very late days, to be the natural ambition of many East
Indian gentlemen. Colonel Newcome had often thought of offering himself
as a candidate, and now openly placed himself on the lists, and publicly
announced his intention. His interest was rather powerful through the
Indian bank, of which he was a director, and many of the shareholders of
which were proprietors of the East India Company. To have a director of
the B. B. C. also a member of the parliament in Leadenhall Street, would
naturally be beneficial to the former institution. Thomas Newcome's
prospectuses were issued accordingly, and his canvass received with
tolerable favour.
Within a very short time another candidate appeared in the field--a
retired Bombay lawyer, of considerable repute and large means--and at the
head of this gentleman's committee appeared the names of Hobson Brothers
and Newcome, very formidable personages at the East India House, with
which the bank of Hobson Brothers have had dealings for half a century
past, and where the old lady, who founded or consolidated that family,
had had three stars before her own venerable name, which had descended
upon her son Sir Brian, and her grandson, Sir Barnes.
War was thus openly declared between Thomas Newcome and his nephew. The
canvass on both sides was very hot and eager. The number of promises was
pretty equal. The election was not to come off yet for a while; for
aspirants to the honourable office of director used to announce their
wishes years before they could be fulfilled, and returned again and again
to the contest before they finally won it. Howbeit, the Colonel's
prospects were very fair, and a prodigious indigo crop came in to favour
the B. B. C., with the most brilliant report from the board at Calcutta.
The shares, still somewhat sluggish, rose again, the Colonel's hopes with
them, and the courage of gentlemen at home who had invested their money
in the transaction.
We were sitting one day round the Colonel's dinner-table; it was not one
of the cocoa-nut-tree days; that emblem was locked up in the butler's
pantry, and only beheld the lamps on occasions of state. It was a snug
family party in the early part of the year, When scarcely anybody was in
town; only George Warrington, and F. B., and Mr. and Mrs. Pendennis; and
the ladies having retired, We were having such a talk as we used to enjoy
in quiet old days, before marriages and cares and divisions had separated
us.
F. B. led the conversation. The Colonel received his remarks with great
gravity, and thought him an instructive personage. Others considered him
rather as amusing than instructive, and so his eloquence was generally
welcome. The canvass for the directorship was talked over. The improved
affairs of a certain great Banking Company, which shall be nameless, but
one which F. B. would take the liberty to state, would, in his opinion,
for ever unite the mother country to our great Indian possessions;--the
prosperity of this great Company was enthusiastically drunk by Mr. Bayham
in some of the very best claret. The conduct of the enemies of that
Company was characterised in terms of bitter, but not undeserved, satire.
F. B. rather liked to air his oratory, and neglected few opportunities
for making speeches after dinners.
The Colonel admired his voice and sentiments not the less, perhaps,
because the latter were highly laudatory of the good man. And not from
interest, at least, as far as he himself knew--not from any mean or
selfish motives, did F. B. speak. He called Colonel Newcome his friend,
his benefactor: kissed the hem of his garment: he wished fervently that
he could have been the Colonel's son: he expressed, repeatedly, a desire
that some one would speak ill of the Colonel, so that he, F. B., might
have the opportunity of polishing that individual off in about two
seconds. He covered the Colonel with all his heart; nor is any gentleman
proof altogether against this constant regard and devotion from another.
The Colonel used to wag his head wisely, and say Mr. Bayham's suggestions
were often exceedingly valuable, as indeed the fact was, though his
conduct was no more of a piece with his opinions than those of some other
folks occasionally are.
"What the Colonel ought to do, sir, to help him in the direction," says
F. B., "is to get into Parliament. The House of Commons would aid him
into the Court of Directors, and the Court of Directors would help him in
the House of Commons."
"Most wisely said," says Warrington.
The Colonel declined. "I have long had the House of Commons in my eye,"
he said; "but not for me. I wanted my boy to go there. It would be a
proud day for me if I could see him there."
"I can't speak," says Clive, from his end of the table. "I don't
understand about parties, like F. B. here."
"I believe I do know a thing or two," Mr. Bayham here interposes.
"And politics do not interest me in the least," Clive sighs out, drawing
pictures with his fork on his napkin, and not heeding the other's
interruption.
"I wish I knew what would interest him," his father whispers to me,
who happened to be at his side. "He never cares to be out of his
painting-room; and he doesn't seem to be very happy even in there. I wish
to God, Pen, I knew what had come over the boy." I thought I knew; but
what was the use of telling, now there was no remedy?
"A dissolution is expected every day," continued F. B. "The papers are
full of it. Ministers cannot go on with this majority--cannot possibly go
on, sir. I have it on the best authority; and men who are anxious about
their seats are writing to their constituents, or are subscribing at
missionary meetings, or are gone down to lecturing at Athenaeums, and
that sort of thing."
Here Warrington burst out into a laughter much louder than the occasion
of the speech of F. B. seemed to warrant; and the Colonel, turning round
with some dignity, asked the cause of George's amusement.
"What do you think your darling, Sir Barnes Newcome Newcome, has been
doing during the recess?" cries Warrington. "I had a letter this morning,
from my liberal and punctual employer, Thomas Potts, Esquire, of the
Newcome Independent, who states, in language scarcely respectful, that
Sir Barnes Newcome Newcome is trying to come the religious dodge, as Mr.
Potts calls it. He professes to be stricken down by grief on account of
late family circumstances; wears black, and puts on the most piteous
aspect, and asks ministers of various denominations to tea with him; and
the last announcement is the most stupendous of all. Stop, I have it in
my greatcoat;" and, ringing the bell, George orders a servant to bring
him a newspaper from his great-coat pocket. "Here it is, actually in
print," Warrington continues, and reads to us:--"'Newcome Athenaeum. 1,
for the benefit of the Newcome Orphan Children's Home, and 2, for the
benefit of the Newcome Soup Association, without distinction of
denomination. Sir Barnes Newcome Newcome, Bart., proposes to give two
lectures, on Friday the 23rd, and Friday the 30th, instant. No. 1, The
Poetry of Childhood: Doctor Watts, Mrs. Barbauld, Jane Taylor, No. 2, The
Poetry of Womanhood, and the Affections: Mrs. Hemans, L. E. L. Threepence
will be charged at the doors, which will go to the use of the above two
admirable Societies.' Potts wants me to go down and hear him. He has an
eye to business. He has had a quarrel with Sir Barnes, and wants me to go
down and hear him, and smash him, he kindly says. Let us go down, Clive.
You shall draw your cousin as you have drawn his villainous little mug a
hundred times before; and I will do the smashing part, and we will have
some fun out of the transaction."
"Besides, Florac will be in the country; going to Rosebury is a journey
worth the taking, I can tell you; and we have old Mrs. Mason to go and
see, who sighs after you, Colonel. My wife went to see her," remarks Mr.
Pendennis, "and----"
"And Miss Newcome, I know," says the Colonel.
"She is away at Brighton, with her little charges, for sea air. My wife
heard from her to-day."
"Oh, indeed. Mrs. Pendennis corresponds with her?" says our host,
darkling under his eyebrows; and, at this moment, my neighbour, F. B., is
kind enough to scrunch my foot under the table with the weight of his
heel, as much as to warn me, by an appeal to my own corns, to avoid
treading on so delicate a subject in that house. "Yes," said I, in spite,
perhaps in consequence, of this interruption. "My wife does correspond
with Miss Ethel, who is a noble creature, and whom those
who know her
know how to love and admire. She is very much changed since you knew her,
Colonel Newcome; since the misfortunes in Sir Barnes's family, and the
differences between you and him. Very much changed and very much
improved. Ask my wife about her, who knows her most intimately, and hears
from her constantly."
"Very likely, very likely," cried the Colonel, hurriedly, "I hope she is
improved, with all my heart. I am sure there was room for it. Gentlemen,
shall we go up to the ladies and have some coffee?" And herewith the
colloquy ended, and the party ascended to the drawing-room.
The party ascended to the drawing-room, where no doubt both the ladies
were pleased by the invasion which ended their talk. My wife and the
Colonel talked apart, and I saw the latter looking gloomy, and the former
pleading very eagerly, and using a great deal of action, as the little
hands are wont to do, when the mistress's heart is very much moved. I was
sure she was pleading Ethel's cause with her uncle.
So indeed she was. And Mr. George, too, knew what her thoughts were.
"Look at her!" he said to me. "Don't you see what she is doing? She
believes in that girl whom you all said Clive took a fancy to before he
married his present little placid wife; a nice little simple creature,
who is worth a dozen Ethels."
"Simple certainly," says Mr. P., with a shrug of the shoulders.
"A simpleton of twenty is better than a roue of twenty. It is better not
to have thought at all, than to have thought such things as must go
through a girl's mind whose life is passed in jilting and being jilted;
whose eyes, as soon as they are opened, are turned to the main chance,
and are taught to leer at earl, to languish at a marquis, and to grow
blind before a commoner. I don't know much about fashionable life. Heaven
help us (you young Brummell! I see the reproach in your face!) Why, sir,
it absolutely appears to me as if this little hop-o'-my-thumb of a
creature has begun to give herself airs since her marriage and her
carriage. Do you know, I rather thought she patronised me? Are all women
spoiled by their contact with the world, and their bloom rubbed off in
the market? I know one who seems to me to remain pure! to be sure, I only
know her, and this little person, and Mrs. Flanagan our laundress, and my
sisters at home, who don't count. But that Miss Newcome to whom once you
introduced me? Oh, the cockatrice! only that poison don't affect your
wife, the other would kill her. I hope the Colonel will not believe a
word which Laura says." And my wife's tete-a-tete with our host coming to
an end about this time, Mr. Warrington in high spirits goes up to the
ladies, recapitulates the news of Barnes's lecture, recites "How doth the
little busy bee," and gives a quasi-satirical comment upon that
well-known poem, which bewilders Mrs. Clive, until, set on by the
laughter of the rest of the audience, she laughs very freely at that odd
man, and calls him "you droll satirical creature you!" and says "she
never was so much amused in her life. Were you, Mrs. Pendennis?"
Meanwhile Clive, who has been sitting apart moodily biting his nails, not
listening to F. B.'s remarks, has broken into a laugh once or twice, and
gone to a writing-book, on which, whilst George is still disserting,
Clive is drawing.
At the end of the other's speech, F. B. goes up to the draughtsman, looks
over his shoulder, makes one or two violent efforts as of inward
convulsion, and finally explodes in an enormous guffaw. "It's capital! By
Jove, it's capital! Sir Barnes would never dare to face his constituents
with that picture of him hung up in Newcome!"
And F. B. holds up the drawing, at which we all laugh except Laura. As
for the Colonel, he paces up and down the room, holding the sketch close
to his eyes, holding it away from him, patting it, clapping his son