The Newcomes

by William Makepeace Thackeray

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