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The Newcomes

Chapter 10 Ethel and her Relations

Word Count: 4945    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

ith the greatest taste; the dinner was exquisite. Were there ever such delicious veal-cutlets, such verdant French beans? "Why do we have those odious French cooks, my dear, with their

to give Brignol warning. When did he ever

d mutton five times a week at one o'clock. "I am so g

r horses and ponies, and the visitor within their gates. She would ask strangers to Newcome, hug and embrace them on Sunday; not speak to them on Monday; and on Tuesday behave so rudely to them, that they were gone before Wednesday. Her daughter had had so many governesses-all darlings during the first week, and monsters afterwards-that the poor child possessed none of the accomplishments of her age. She could not play on the piano; she could not speak French well; she could not tell you when gunpowder was invented: she had not the faintest idea of the date of the Norman Conquest, or whether the earth went round the sun, or vice versa. She did not know the number of counties in England, Scotland, and Wales, let alone Ireland; she did not know the difference between latitude and longitude. She had had so many governesses: their accounts differed: poor Ethel was bewildered by a multiplicity of teachers, and thought herself a monster of ignorance. They gave her a book at a Sunday School, and little girls of eight years old answered questions of which she knew nothing. The place swam before her. She could not see the sun shining on their fair flaxen heads and pretty faces. The rosy little children holding up their eager hands, and crying the answer to this questi

orning, taking his family, and of course Ethel, with him. She was inconsolable

Ethel-"he'll read it in the newspaper." My Lord Hercules, it is to be hoped, strangled this infant passion in the cradle; having

er up in the class. She was bewildered by the multitude of things they bade her learn. At the youthful little assemblies of her sex, when, under the guide of their respected governesses, the girls came to tea at six o'clock, dancing, charades, and so forth, Ethel herded not with the children of her own age, nor yet with the teachers who sit apart at these assemblies, imparting to each other their little wrongs; but Ethel romped with the little children-the rosy little trots-and took them on her knees, and told them a thousand stories. By these she was adored, a

history we chronicle, and it behoves us to say a word regarding the Earl o

uish, they kick the major-domo downstairs, they turn the duenna out of doors-the toothless old dragon! There is no resisting fate. The Princess will slip out of window by the rope-ladder; the Prince will be off to pursue his pleasures, and sow his wild oats at the appointed season. How many of our English princes have been coddled at home by their fond papas and mammas, walled up in inaccessible castles, with a tutor and a library, guarded by cordons of sentinels, sermoners, old aunts, old women from the world without, and have nevertheless escaped from all these guardians, and astonished the world by their extravagance and their frolics? What a wild rogue was that Prince Harry, son of the austere sovereign who robbed Richard the Second of his crown,-the youth who took purses on Gadshill, frequented Eastcheap taverns with Colonel Falstaff and worse company, and boxed Chief Justice Gascoigne's ears! What must have been the venerable Queen Charlotte's state of mind when she heard of the courses of her beautiful young Prince; of his punting at gambling-tables; of his dealings with horse-jockeys; of his awful doings with Perdita? Besides instances taken from our Royal Family, could we not draw examples from our resp

o the heroic times of Dutch Sam and the Game Chicken. Young gentlemen went eagerly to Moulsey to see the Slasher punch the Pet's head, or the Negro beat the Jew's nose to a jelly. The island rang as yet with the tooting horns and rattling teams of mail-coaches; a gay sight was the road in merry England in those days, before steam-engines arose and flung its hostelry and chivalry over. To travel in coaches, to drive coaches, to know coachmen and guards, to be familiar with inns along the road, to laugh with the jolly hostess in the bar, to chuck the pretty chambermaid under the chin, were the delight of men who were young not very long ago. Who ever thought of writing to the Times then? "Biffin," I warrant, did not grudge his money, and "A Thirsty Soul" paid cheerfully for his drink. The road was an institution, the rin

tigable visitor of schools; that writer of letters to the farmers of his shire, so full of sense and benevolence; who wins prizes at agricultural shows, and even lectures at county town institutes in his modest, plea

daughter-in-law would make milksops of her sons, to whom the old lady was never reconciled until after my lord's entry at Christchurch, where he began to distinguish himself very soon after his first term. He drove tandems, kept hunters, gave dinners, scandalised the Dean, screwed up the tutor's door, and agonised his mother at home by his lawless proceedings. He quit

respectable of men; Anne is clever, but has not a grain of common sense. They make a very well assorted couple. Her flightiness would have driven any man crazy who had an opinion of his own. She would have ruined any poor man of her own rank; as it is, I have given her a husband exactly suited for her. He pays the bills, does not see how absurd she is, k

easts which they eat day after day. The women are thinking of the half-dozen parties they have to go to in the course of the night. The young girls are thinking of their partners and their toilettes. Intimacy becomes impossible, and quiet enjoyment of life. On the other hand, the crowd of bourgeois has not invaded Brighton.

ildren are sometimes brought before magistrates, and their poor little backs and shoulders laid bare, covered with bruises and lashes which brutal parents have inflicted, so, I dare say, if there had been any tribunal or judge, before whom this poor patient lady's heart could have been exposed, it would have been found scarred all over with n

ondon again, or blown over the water to Dieppe. She had never had the measles. "Why did not Anne carry the child to some other place? Julia, you will on no account go and see that littl

ild every day," cries poor Pincushion

? I forbid you to go to Anne's house. You will send one of the men every day to inquire. Let the groom go-yes, Charles-he will not go into the house. He will ring the bell and wait outside. He had better ring the bell at the area-I suppose there is an area-and speak to the servants through the bars, and bring us w

f his visit, confirms. The child is getting well rapidly; eating like a little ogre. His cousin Lord Kew has been to see him. He

e come? Write him a note, and send for him

the Brighton papers the arrival of the Earl of

n Belsize are together, I know there is some wickedness planning. What do you know, Doctor? I see by

Mr. Belsize, and afterwards"-here he glances towards Lady Julia, as if to say, "Before an unmarried lady, I do not like to tell your ladysh

hy, bless my soul, she is forty years old, and has heard everyth

Madame Pozzoprofondo, the famous contralto of the Italian Ope

t Signor Pozzoprofondo was in the carriage too-a-a-

der her bushy black eyebrows. Her ladyship, a sister of the late lamented Marquis of Steyne, possessed no small

h to take the sea air in private, or to avoid their relations, had best go to other places tha

terposes th

wo old women, at half-past seven. You may bring Mr. Belsiz

er with Jack Belsize. Jack Belsize liked to dine with Lady Kew. He said, "she was an old dear, and the wickedest old woman in all England;" and he li

r visit to Lady Kew, and this time Lord Kew was lou

Barnes, surely, my d

und him! n

a," broke in Jack Belsize. "I can get on with most me

what-Mr.

gh he is your grandson. I never heard him say a g

r. Belsize,"

ttle chap who has just had the measles-he's a

," says Lord Kew, slappi

ou say," remarks Lady Kew, nodding approval; "and B

enthusiastic Kew, "as I was driving Jack i

beg your pardon, Lady Julia," cries the inopportun

foot into what

y word she is as pretty a girl as you can see on a summer's day. And the governess said 'No,' of course. Governesses always do. But I said I was her u

ur Pozzoprofo

ef. My horses are young, and when they get on the grass the

s Jack. "He had nearly

er, began to cry; but that young girl, though she was as white as a sheet, never gave up for a moment, and sate in her place like a man. We met nothing, luckily; and I pulled the horses in after a mile or two, and I drove 'em into Brighton as qu

r. I beg your pardon, Lady Kew," h

taying with them," Lord Kew proceeds; "an Ea

bout it in the hotel.

ighter back to my aunt, to say all was well. And he took little Alfred out of the carriage, and then helped out Ethel, and said, 'My dear, y

e to be whipped, both

my aunt, and were presented in form

on my life the best drawings I ever saw. And he was making a picture for little What-d'you-call-'em. And Miss Newcome was looking ov

s instructed to write that night to her sister, and desire that Ethel should be sent to see her grandmother:-Ethel, who rebelled

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1 Chapter 1 The Overture—After which the Curtain rises upon a Drinking Chorus2 Chapter 2 Colonel Newcome’s Wild Oats3 Chapter 3 Colonel Newcome’s Letter-box4 Chapter 4 In which the Author and the Hero resume their Acquaintance5 Chapter 5 Clive’s Uncles6 Chapter 6 Newcome Brothers7 Chapter 7 In which Mr. Clive’s School-days are over8 Chapter 8 Mrs. Newcome at Home (a Small Early Party)9 Chapter 9 Miss Honeyman’s10 Chapter 10 Ethel and her Relations11 Chapter 11 At Mrs. Ridley’s12 Chapter 12 In which everybody is asked to Dinner13 Chapter 13 In which Thomas Newcome sings his Last Song14 Chapter 14 Park Lane15 Chapter 15 The Old Ladies16 Chapter 16 In which Mr. Sherrick lets his House in Fitzroy Square17 Chapter 17 A School of Art18 Chapter 18 New Companions19 Chapter 19 The Colonel at Home20 Chapter 20 Contains more Particulars of the Colonel and his Brethren21 Chapter 21 Is Sentimental, but Short22 Chapter 22 Describes a Visit to Paris; with Accidents and Incidents23 Chapter 23 In which we hear a Soprano and a Contralto24 Chapter 24 In which the Newcome Brothers once more meet together in25 Chapter 25 Is passed in a Public-house26 Chapter 26 In which Colonel Newcome’s Horses are sold27 Chapter 27 Youth and Sunshine28 Chapter 28 In which Clive begins to see the World29 Chapter 29 In which Barnes comes a-wooing30 Chapter 30 A Retreat31 Chapter 31 Madame la Duchesse32 Chapter 32 Barnes’s Courtship33 Chapter 33 Lady Kew at the Congress34 Chapter 34 The End of the Congress of Baden35 Chapter 35 Across the Alps36 Chapter 36 In which M. de Florac is promoted37 Chapter 37 Return to Lord Kew38 Chapter 38 In which Lady Kew leaves his Lordship quite convalescent39 Chapter 39 Amongst the Painters40 Chapter 40 Returns from Rome to Pall Mall41 Chapter 41 An Old Story42 Chapter 42 Injured Innocence43 Chapter 43 Returns to some Old Friends44 Chapter 44 In which Mr. Charles Honeyman appears in an Amiable Light45 Chapter 45 A Stag of Ten46 Chapter 46 The Hotel de Florac47 Chapter 47 Contains two or three Acts of a Little Comedy48 Chapter 48 In which Benedick is a Married Man49 Chapter 49 Contains at least six more Courses and two Desserts50 Chapter 50 Clive in New Quarters51 Chapter 51 An Old Friend52 Chapter 52 Family Secrets53 Chapter 53 In which Kinsmen fall out54 Chapter 54 Has a Tragical Ending55 Chapter 55 Barnes’s Skeleton Closet56 Chapter 56 Rosa quo locorum sera moratur57 Chapter 57 Rosebury and Newcome58 Chapter 58 “One more Unfortunate”59 Chapter 59 In which Achilles loses Briseis60 Chapter 60 In which we write to the Colonel61 Chapter 61 In which we are introduced to a New Newcome62 Chapter 62 Mr. and Mrs. Clive Newcome63 Chapter 63 Mrs. Clive at Home64 Chapter 64 Absit Omen65 Chapter 65 In which Mrs. Clive comes into her Fortune66 Chapter 66 In which the Colonel and the Newcome Athenaeum are both lectured67 Chapter 67 Newcome and Liberty68 Chapter 68 A Letter and a Reconciliation69 Chapter 69 The Election70 Chapter 70 Chiltern Hundreds71 Chapter 71 In which Mrs. Clive Newcome’s Carriage is ordered72 Chapter 72 Belisarius73 Chapter 73 In which Belisarius returns from Exile74 Chapter 74 In which Clive begins the World75 Chapter 75 Founder’s Day at the Grey Friars76 Chapter 76 Christmas at Rosebury77 Chapter 77 The Shortest and Happiest in the Whole History78 Chapter 78 In which the Author goes on a Pleasant Errand79 Chapter 79 In which Old Friends come together80 Chapter 80 In which the Colonel says “Adsum” when his Name is called