too, yet somehow she looks grander,"--and here the lad laughed again.
"And do you know, I often think that as good a lady as Aunt Anne herself,
is old Aunt Honeyman at Brighton--that is, in all essentials, you know.
For she is not proud, and she is not vain, and she never says an unkind
word behind anybody's back, and she does a deal of kindness to the poor
without appearing to crow over them, you know; and she is not a bit
ashamed of letting lodgings, or being poor herself, as sometimes I think
some of our family----"
"I thought we were going to speak no ill of them?" says the Colonel,
smiling.
"Well, it only slipped out unawares," says Clive, laughing; "but at
Newcome when they go on about the Newcomes, and that great ass, Barnes
Newcome, gives himself his airs, it makes me die of laughing. That time I
went down to Newcome, I went to see old Aunt Sarah, and she told me
everything, and showed me the room where my grandfather--you know; and do
you know I was a little hurt at first, for I thought we were swells till
then. And when I came back to school, where perhaps I had been giving
myself airs, and bragging about Newcome, why, you know, I thought it was
right to tell the fellows."
"That's a man," said the Colonel, with delight; though had he said,
"That's a boy," he had spoken more correctly. Indeed, how many men do we
know in the world without caring to know who their fathers were? and how
many more who wisely do not care to tell us? "That's a man," cries the
Colonel; "never be ashamed of your father, Clive."
"Ashamed of my father!" says Clive, looking up to him, and walking on as
proud as a peacock. "I say," the lad resumed, after a pause--
"Say what you say," said the father.
"Is that all true what's in the Peerage--in the Baronetage, about Uncle
Newcome and Newcome; about the Newcome who was burned at Smithfield;
about the one that was at the battle of Bosworth; and the old old Newcome
who was bar--that is, who was surgeon to Edward the Confessor, and was
killed at Hastings? I am afraid it isn't; and yet I should like it to be
true."
"I think every man would like to come of an ancient and honourable race,"
said the Colonel, in his honest way. "As you like your father to be an
honourable man, why not your grandfather, and his ancestors before him?
But if we can't inherit a good name, at least we can do our best to leave
one, my boy; and that is an ambition which, please God, you and I will
both hold by."
With this simple talk the old and young gentleman beguiled their way,
until they came into the western quarter of the town, where the junior
member of the firm of Newcome Brothers had his house--a handsome and
roomy mansion in Bryanstone Square. Colonel Newcome was bent on paying a
visit to his sister-in-law, and as he knocked at the door, where the pair
were kept waiting some little time, he could remark through the opened
windows of the dining-room, that a great table was laid and every
preparation made for a feast.
"My brother said he was engaged to dinner to-day," said the Colonel.
"Does Mrs. Newcome give parties when he is away?"
"She invites all the company," answered Clive. "My uncle never asks any
one without aunt's leave."
The Colonel's countenance fell. He has a great dinner, and does not ask
his own brother! Newcome thought. Why, if he had come to me in India with
all his family, he might have stayed for a year, and I should have been
offended if he had gone elsewhere.
A hot menial, in a red waistcoat, came and opened the door; and without
waiting for preparatory queries, said, "Not at home."
"It's my father, John," said Clive; "my aunt will see Colonel Newcome."
"Missis not at home," said the man. "Missis is gone in carriage--Not at
this door!-Take them things down the area steps, young man!" bawls out
the domestic. This latter speech was addressed to a pastrycook's boy,
with a large sugar temple and many conical papers containing delicacies
for dessert. "Mind the hice is here in time; or there'll be a blow-up
with your governor,"--and John struggled back, closing the door on the
astonished Colonel.
"Upon my life, they actually shut the door in our faces," said the poor
gentleman.
"The man is very busy, sir. There's a great dinner. I'm sure my aunt
would not refuse you," Clive interposed. "She is very kind. I suppose
it's different here to what it is in India. here are the children in the
square,--those are the girls in blue,--that's the French governess, the
one with the mustachios and the yellow parasol. How d'ye do, Mary? How
d'ye do, Fanny? This is my father,--this is your uncle."
"Mesdemoiselles! Je vous ddfends de parler a qui que ce soit hors du
squar!" screams out the lady of the mustachios; and she strode forward to
call back her young charges.
The Colonel addressed her in very good French. "I hope you will permit me
to make acquaintance with my nieces," he said, "and with their
instructress, of whom my son has given me such a favourable account."
"Hem!" said Mademoiselle Lebrun, remembering the last fight she and Clive
had had together, and a portrait of herself (with enormous whiskers)
which the young scapegrace had drawn. "Monsieur is very good. But one
cannot too early inculcate retenue and decorum to young ladies in a
country where demoiselles seem for ever to forget that they are young
ladies of condition. I am forced to keep the eyes of lynx upon these
young persons, otherwise heaven knows what would come to them. Only
yesterday, my back is turned for a moment, I cast my eyes on a book,
having but little time for literature, monsieur--for literature, which I
adore--when a cry makes itself to hear. I turn myself, and what do I see?
Mesdemoiselles, your nieces, playing at criquette, with the Messieurs
Smees--sons of Doctor Smees--young galopins, monsieur!" All this was
shrieked with immense volubility and many actions of the hand and parasol
across the square-railings to the amused Colonel, at whom the little
girls peered through the bars.
"Well, my dears, I should like to have a game at cricket with you, too,"
says the kind gentleman, reaching them each a brown hand.
"You, monsieur, c'est different--a man of your age! Salute monsieur, your
uncle, mesdemoiselles. You conceive, monsieur, that I also must be
cautious when I speak to a man so distinguished in a public squar." And
she cast down her great eyes and hid those radiant orbs from the Colonel.
Meanwhile, Colonel Newcome, indifferent to the direction which Miss
Lebrun's eyes took, whether towards his hat or his boots, was surveying
his little nieces with that kind expression which his face always wore
when it was turned towards children. "Have you heard of your uncle in
India?" he asked them.
"No," says Maria.
"Yes," says Fanny. "You know mademoiselle said" (mademoiselle at this
moment was twittering her fingers, and, as it were, kissing them in the
direction of a grand barouche that was advancing along the Square)--"you
know mademoiselle said that if we were mechantes we should be sent to our
uncle in India. I think I should like to go with you."
"O you silly child!" cries Maria.
"Yes I should, if Clive went too," says little Fanny.
"Behold madam, who arrives from her promenade!" Miss Lebrun exclaimed;
and, turning round, Colonel Newcome had the satisfaction of beholding,
for the first time, his sister-in-law.
A stout lady, with fair hair and a fine bonnet and pelisse (who knows
what were the fine bonnets and pelisses of the year 183-?), was reclining
in the barouche, the scarlet-plush integuments of her domestics blazing
before and behind her. A pretty little foot was on the cushion opposite
to her; feathers waved in her bonnet; a book was in her lap; an oval
portrait of a gentleman reposed on her voluminous bosom. She wore another
picture of two darling heads, with pink cheeks and golden hair, on one of
her wrists, with many more chains, bracelets, bangles, and knick-knacks.
A pair of dirty gloves marred the splendour of this appearance; a heap of
books from the library strewed the back seat of the carriage, and showed
that her habits were literary. Springing down from his station behind his
mistress, the youth clad in the nether garments of red sammit discharged
thunderclaps on the door of Mrs. Newcome's house, announcing to the whole
Square that his mistress had returned to her abode. Since the fort
saluted the Governor-General at ------, Colonel Newcome had never heard
such a cannonading.
Clive, with a queer twinkle of his eyes, ran towards his aunt.
She bent over the carriage languidly towards him. She liked him. "What,
you, Clive?" she said. "How come you away from school of a Thursday,
sir?"
you."
She bowed her head with an expression of affable surprise and majestic
satisfaction. "Indeed, Clive!" she was good enough to exclaim and with an
air which seemed to say, "Let him come up and be presented to me." The
honest gentleman stepped forward and took off his hat and bowed, and
stood bareheaded. She surveyed him blandly, and with infinite grace put
forward one of the pudgy little hands in one of the dirty gloves. Can you
fancy a twopenny-halfpenny baroness of King Francis's time patronising
Bayard? Can you imagine Queen Guinever's lady's-maid's lady's maid being
affable to Sir Lancelot? I protest there is nothing like the virtue of
English women.
"You have only arrived to-day, and you came to see me? That was very
kind. N'est-ce pas que c'etoit bong de Mouseer le Collonel, mademoiselle?
Madamaselle Lebrun, le Collonel Newcome, mong frere." (In a whisper, "My
children's governess and my friend, a most superior woman.") "Was it not
kind of Colonel Newcome to come to see me? Have you had a pleasant
voyage? Did you come by St. Helena? Oh, how I envy you seeing the tomb of
that great man! Nous parlong de Napolleong, mademoiselle, dong voter pere
a ete le General favvory."
"O Dieu! que n'ai je pu le voir," interjaculates mademoiselle. "Lui dont
parle l'univers, dont mon pere m'a si souvent parle!" but this remark
passes quite unnoticed by mademoiselle's friend, who continues:
"Clive, donnez-moi voter bras. These are two of my girls. My boys are at
school. I shall be so glad to introduce them to their uncle. This naughty
boy might never have seen you, but that we took him home to Marblehead,
after the scarlet fever, and made him well, didn't we, Clive? And we are
all very fond of him, and you must not be jealous of his love for his
aunt. We feel that we quite know you through him, and we know that you
know us, and we hope you will like us. Do you think your pa will like us,
Clive? Or perhaps you will like Lady Anne best? Yes; you have been to her
first, of course? Not been? Oh! because she is not in town." Leaning
fondly on the arm of Clive, mademoiselle standing grouped with the
children hard by while John, with his hat off, stood at the opened door,
Mr Newcome slowly uttered the above remarkable remarks to the Colonel, on
the threshold of her house, which she never asked him to pass.
"If you will come in to us at about ten this evening," she then said,
"you will find some men, not undistinguished, who honour me of an
evening. Perhaps they will be interesting to you, Colonel Newcome, as you
are newly arrived in Europe. Not men of worldly rank, necessarily,
although some of them are amongst the noblest of Europe. But my maxim is,
that genius is an illustration, and merit is better than any pedigree.
You have heard of Professor Bodgers? Count Poski? Doctor McGuffog, who is
called in his native country the Ezekiel of Clackmannan? Mr. Shaloony,
the great Irish patriot? our papers have told you of him. These and some
more I have been good enough to promise me a visit to-night. A stranger
coming to London could scarcely have a better opportunity of seeing some
of our great illustrations of science and literature. And you will meet
our own family--not Sir Brian's, who--who have other society and
amusements--but mine. I hope Mr. Newcome and myself will never forget
them. We have a few friends at dinner, and now I must go in and consult
with Mrs. Hubbard, my housekeeper. Good-bye for the present. Mind, not
later than ten, as Mr. Newcome must be up betimes in the morning, and our
parties break up early. When Clive is a little older, I dare say we shall
see him, too. Good-bye!" And again the Colonel was favoured with a shake
of the glove, and the lady and her suite sailed up the stair, and passed
in at the door.
She had not the faintest idea but that the hospitality which she was
offering to her kinsman was of the most cordial and pleasant kind. She
fancied everything she did was perfectly right and graceful. She invited
her husband's clerks to come through the rain at ten o'clock from Kentish
Town; she asked artists to bring their sketch-books from Kensington, or
luckless pianists to trudge with their music from Brompton. She rewarded
them with a smile and a cup of tea, and thought they were made happy by
her condescension. If, after two or three of these delightful evenings,
they ceased to attend her receptions, she shook her little flaxen head,
and sadly intimated that Mr. A. was getting into bad courses, or feared
that Mr. B. found merely intellectual parties too quiet for him. Else,
instruction?
CHAPTER VIII
Mrs. Newcome at Home (a Small Early Party)
To push on in the crowd, every male or female struggler must use his
shoulders. If a better place than yours presents itself just beyond your
neighbour, elbow him and take it. Look how a steadily purposed man or
woman at court, at a ball, or exhibition, wherever there is a competition
and a squeeze, gets the best place; the nearest the sovereign, if bent on
kissing the royal hand; the closest to the grand stand, if minded to go
to Ascot; the best view and hearing of the Rev. Mr. Thumpington, when all
the town is rushing to hear that exciting divine; the largest quantity of
ice, champagne, and seltzer, cold pate, or other his or her favourite
flesh-pot, if gluttonously minded, at a supper whence hundreds of people
come empty away. A woman of the world will marry her daughter and have
done with her; get her carriage and be at home and asleep in bed; whilst
a timid mamma has still her girl in the nursery, or is beseeching the
servants in the cloakroom to look for her shawls, with which some one
else has whisked away an hour ago. What a man has to do in society is to
assert himself. Is there a good place at table? Take it. At the Treasury
or the Home Office? Ask for it. Do you want to go to a party to which you
are not invited? Ask to be asked. Ask A., ask B., ask Mrs. C., ask
everybody you know: you will be thought a bore; but you will have your
way. What matters if you are considered obtrusive, provided that you
obtrude? By pushing steadily, nine hundred and ninety-nine people in a
thousand will yield to you. Only command persons, and you may be pretty
sure that a good number will obey. How well your money will have been
laid out, O gentle reader, who purchase this; and, taking the maxim to
heart, follow it through life! You may be sure of success. If your
neighbour's foot obstructs you, stamp on it; and do you suppose he won't
take it away?
The proofs of the correctness of the above remarks I show in various
members of the Newcome family. Here was a vulgar little woman, not clever
nor pretty, especially; meeting Mr. Newcome casually, she ordered him to
marry her, and he obeyed; as he obeyed her in everything else which she
chose to order through life. Meeting Colonel Newcome on the steps of her
house, she orders him to come to her evening party; and though he has not
been to an evening party for five-and-thirty years--though he has not
been to bed the night before--though he has no mufti-coat except one sent
him out by Messrs. Stultz to India in the year 1821--he never once thinks
of disobeying Mrs. Newcome's order, but is actually at her door at five
minutes past ten, having arrayed himself to the wonderment of Clive, and
left the boy to talk with his friend and fellow-passenger, Mr. Binnie,
who has just arrived from Portsmouth, who has dined with him, and who, by
previous arrangement, has taken up his quarters at the same hotel.
This Stultz coat, a blue swallow-tail, with yellow buttons, now wearing a
tinge of their native copper, a very high velvet collar on a level with
the tips of the Captain's ears, with a high waist, indicated by two
lapelles, and a pair of buttons high up in the wearer's back, a white
waistcoat and scarlet under-waistcoat, and a pair of the never-failing
duck trousers, complete Thomas Newcome's costume, along with the white
hat in which we have seen him in the morning, and which was one of two
dozen purchased by him some years since at public outcry, Burrumtollah.
We have called him Captain purposely, while speaking of his coat, for he
held that rank when the garment came out to him; and having been in the
habit of considering it a splendid coat for twelve years past, he has not
the least idea of changing his opinion.
The Doctor McGuffog, Professor Bodgers, Count Poski, and all the lions
present at Mrs. Newcome's reunion that evening, were completely eclipsed
by Colonel Newcome. The worthy soul, who cared not the least about
adorning himself, had a handsome diamond brooch of the year 1801--given
him by poor Jack Cutler, who was knocked over by his side at Argaum--and
wore this ornament in his desk for a thousand days and nights at a time;
in his shirt-frill, on such parade evenings as he considered Mrs.
Newcome's to be. The splendour of this jewel, and of his flashing
buttons, caused all eyes to turn to him. There were many pairs of