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Chapter 12

Drunk?--and speak parrot?--and squabble?--swagger?--
Swear?--and discourse fustian with one's own shadow?
Othello.

I have already told you, my dear Tresham, what probably was no news to
you, that my principal fault was an unconquerable pitch of pride, which
exposed me to frequent mortification. I had not even whispered to myself
that I loved Diana Vernon; yet no sooner did I hear Rashleigh talk of her
as a prize which he might stoop to carry off, or neglect, at his
pleasure, than every step which the poor girl had taken, in the innocence
and openness of her heart, to form a sort of friendship with me, seemed
in my eyes the most insulting coquetry.--"Soh! she would secure me as a
_pis aller,_ I suppose, in case Mr. Rashleigh Osbaldistone should not
take compassion upon her! But I will satisfy her that I am not a person
to be trepanned in that manner--I will make her sensible that I see
through her arts, and that I scorn them."

I did not reflect for a moment, that all this indignation, which I had no
right whatever to entertain, proved that I was anything but indifferent
to Miss Vernon's charms; and I sate down to table in high ill-humour with
her and all the daughters of Eve.

Miss Vernon heard me, with surprise, return ungracious answers to one or
two playful strokes of satire which she threw out with her usual freedom
of speech; but, having no suspicion that offence was meant, she only
replied to my rude repartees with jests somewhat similar, but polished by
her good temper, though pointed by her wit. At length she perceived I was
really out of humour, and answered one of my rude speeches thus:--

"They say, Mr. Frank, that one may gather sense from fools--I heard
cousin Wilfred refuse to play any longer at cudgels the other day with
cousin Thornie, because cousin Thornie got angry, and struck harder than
the rules of amicable combat, it seems, permitted. 'Were I to break your
head in good earnest,' quoth honest Wilfred, 'I care not how angry you
are, for I should do it so much the more easily but it's hard I should
get raps over the costard, and only pay you back in make-believes'--Do
you understand the moral of this, Frank?"

"I have never felt myself under the necessity, madam, of studying how to
extract the slender portion of sense with which this family season their
conversation."

"Necessity! and madam!--You surprise me, Mr. Osbaldistone."

"I am unfortunate in doing so."

"Am I to suppose that this capricious tone is serious? or is it only
assumed, to make your good-humour more valuable?"

"You have a right to the attention of so many gentlemen in this family,
Miss Vernon, that it cannot be worth your while to inquire into the cause
of my stupidity and bad spirits."

"What!" she said, "am I to understand, then, that you have deserted my
faction, and gone over to the enemy?"

Then, looking across the table, and observing that Rashleigh, who was
seated opposite, was watching us with a singular expression of interest
on his harsh features, she continued--

"Horrible thought!--Ay, now I see 'tis true,
For the grim-visaged Rashleigh smiles on me,
And points at thee for his!--

Well, thank Heaven, and the unprotected state which has taught me
endurance, I do not take offence easily; and that I may not be forced to
quarrel, whether I like it or no, I have the honour, earlier than usual,
to wish you a happy digestion of your dinner and your bad humour."

And she left the table accordingly.

Upon Miss Vernon's departure, I found myself very little satisfied with
my own conduct. I had hurled back offered kindness, of which
circumstances had but lately pointed out the honest sincerity, and I had
but just stopped short of insulting the beautiful, and, as she had said
with some emphasis, the unprotected being by whom it was proffered. My
conduct seemed brutal in my own eyes. To combat or drown these painful
reflections, I applied myself more frequently than usual to the wine
which circulated on the table.

The agitated state of my feelings combined with my habits of temperance
to give rapid effect to the beverage. Habitual topers, I believe, acquire
the power of soaking themselves with a quantity of liquor that does
little more than muddy those intellects which in their sober state are
none of the clearest; but men who are strangers to the vice of
drunkenness as a habit, are more powerfully acted upon by intoxicating
liquors. My spirits, once aroused, became extravagant; I talked a great
deal, argued upon what I knew nothing of, told stories of which I forgot
the point, then laughed immoderately at my own forgetfulness; I accepted
several bets without having the least judgment; I challenged the giant
John to wrestle with me, although he had kept the ring at Hexham for a
year, and I never tried so much as a single fall.

My uncle had the goodness to interpose and prevent this consummation of
drunken folly, which, I suppose, would have otherwise ended in my neck
being broken.

It has even been reported by maligners, that I sung a song while under
this vinous influence; but, as I remember nothing of it, and never
attempted to turn a tune in all my life before or since, I would
willingly hope there is no actual foundation for the calumny. I was
absurd enough without this exaggeration. Without positively losing my
senses, I speedily lost all command of my temper, and my impetuous
passions whirled me onward at their pleasure. I had sate down sulky and
discontented, and disposed to be silent--the wine rendered me loquacious,
disputatious, and quarrelsome. I contradicted whatever was asserted, and
attacked, without any respect to my uncle's table, both his politics and
his religion. The affected moderation of Rashleigh, which he well knew
how to qualify with irritating ingredients, was even more provoking to me
than the noisy and bullying language of his obstreperous brothers. My
uncle, to do him justice, endeavoured to bring us to order; but his
authority was lost amidst the tumult of wine and passion. At length,
frantic at some real or supposed injurious insinuation, I actually struck
Rashleigh with my fist. No Stoic philosopher, superior to his own passion
and that of others, could have received an insult with a higher degree of
scorn. What he himself did not think it apparently worth while to resent,
Thorncliff resented for him. Swords were drawn, and we exchanged one or
two passes, when the other brothers separated us by main force; and I
shall never forget the diabolical sneer which writhed Rashleigh's wayward
features, as I was forced from the apartment by the main strength of two
of these youthful Titans. They secured me in my apartment by locking the
door, and I heard them, to my inexpressible rage, laugh heartily as they
descended the stairs. I essayed in my fury to break out; but the
window-grates, and the strength of a door clenched with iron, resisted my
efforts. At length I threw myself on my bed, and fell asleep amidst vows
of dire revenge to be taken in the ensuing day.

But with the morning cool repentance came. I felt, in the keenest manner,
the violence and absurdity of my conduct, and was obliged to confess that
wine and passion had lowered my intellects even below those of Wilfred
Osbaldistone, whom I held in so much contempt. My uncomfortable
reflections were by no means soothed by meditating the necessity of an
apology for my improper behaviour, and recollecting that Miss Vernon must
be a witness of my submission. The impropriety and unkindness of my
conduct to her personally, added not a little to these galling
considerations, and for this I could not even plead the miserable excuse
of intoxication.

Under all these aggravating feelings of shame and degradation, I
descended to the breakfast hall, like a criminal to receive sentence. It
chanced that a hard frost had rendered it impossible to take out the
hounds, so that I had the additional mortification to meet the family,
excepting only Rashleigh and Miss Vernon, in full divan, surrounding the
cold venison pasty and chine of beef. They were in high glee as I
entered, and I could easily imagine that the jests were furnished at my
expense. In fact, what I was disposed to consider with serious pain, was
regarded as an excellent good joke by my uncle, and the greater part of
my cousins. Sir Hildebrand, while he rallied me on the exploits of the
preceding evening, swore he thought a young fellow had better be thrice
drunk in one day, than sneak sober to bed like a Presbyterian, and leave
a batch of honest fellows, and a double quart of claret. And to back this
consolatory speech, he poured out a large bumper of brandy, exhorting me
to swallow "a hair of the dog that had bit me."

"Never mind these lads laughing, nevoy," he continued; "they would have
been all as great milksops as yourself, had I not nursed them, as one may
say, on the toast and tankard."

Ill-nature was not the fault of my cousins in general; they saw I was
vexed and hurt at the recollections of the preceding evening, and
endeavoured, with clumsy kindness, to remove the painful impression they
had made on me. Thorncliff alone looked sullen and unreconciled. This
young man had never liked me from the beginning; and in the marks of
attention occasionally shown me by his brothers, awkward as they were, he
alone had never joined. If it was true, of which, however, I began to
have my doubts, that he was considered by the family, or regarded
himself, as the destined husband of Miss Vernon, a sentiment of jealousy
might have sprung up in his mind from the marked predilection which it
was that young lady's pleasure to show for one whom Thorncliff might,
perhaps, think likely to become a dangerous rival.

Rashleigh at last entered, his visage as dark as mourning weed--brooding,
I could not but doubt, over the unjustifiable and disgraceful insult I
had offered to him. I had already settled in my own mind how I was to
behave on the occasion, and had schooled myself to believe, that true
honour consisted not in defending, but in apologising for, an injury so
much disproportioned to any provocation I might have to allege.

I therefore hastened to meet Rashleigh, and to express myself in the
highest degree sorry for the violence with which I had acted on the
preceding evening. "No circumstances," I said, "could have wrung from me
a single word of apology, save my own consciousness of the impropriety of
my behaviour. I hoped my cousin would accept of my regrets so sincerely
offered, and consider how much of my misconduct was owing to the
excessive hospitality of Osbaldistone Hall."

"He shall be friends with thee, lad," cried the honest knight, in the
full effusion of his heart; "or d--n me, if I call him son more!--Why,
Rashie, dost stand there like a log? _Sorry for it_ is all a gentleman
can say, if he happens to do anything awry, especially over his claret. I
served in Hounslow, and should know something, I think, of affairs of
honour. Let me hear no more of this, and we'll go in a body and rummage
out the badger in Birkenwood-bank."

Rashleigh's face resembled, as I have already noticed, no other
countenance that I ever saw. But this singularity lay not only in the
features, but in the mode of changing their expression. Other
countenances, in altering from grief to joy, or from anger to
satisfaction, pass through some brief interval, ere the expression of the
predominant passion supersedes entirely that of its predecessor. There is
a sort of twilight, like that between the clearing up of the darkness and
the rising of the sun, while the swollen muscles subside, the dark eye
clears, the forehead relaxes and expands itself, and the whole
countenance loses its sterner shades, and becomes serene and placid.
Rashleigh's face exhibited none of these gradations, but changed almost
instantaneously from the expression of one passion to that of the
contrary. I can compare it to nothing but the sudden shifting of a scene
in the theatre, where, at the whistle of the prompter, a cavern
disappears, and a grove arises.

My attention was strongly arrested by this peculiarity on the present
occasion. At Rashleigh's first entrance, "black he stood as night!" With
the same inflexible countenance he heard my excuse and his father's
exhortation; and it was not until Sir Hildebrand had done speaking, that
the cloud cleared away at once, and he expressed, in the kindest and most
civil terms, his perfect satisfaction with the very handsome apology I
had offered.

"Indeed," he said, "I have so poor a brain myself, when I impose on it
the least burden beyond my usual three glasses, that I have only, like
honest Cassio, a very vague recollection of the confusion of last
night--remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly--a quarrel, but
nothing wherefore--So, my dear Cousin," he continued, shaking me kindly
by the hand, "conceive how much I am relieved by finding that I have to
receive an apology, instead of having to make one--I will not have a
word said upon the subject more; I should be very foolish to institute
any scrutiny into an account, when the balance, which I expected to be
against me, has been so unexpectedly and agreeably struck in my favour.
You see, Mr. Osbaldistone, I am practising the language of Lombard
Street, and qualifying myself for my new calling."

As I was about to answer, and raised my eyes for the purpose, they
encountered those of Miss Vernon, who, having entered the room unobserved
during the conversation, had given it her close attention. Abashed and
confounded, I fixed my eyes on the ground, and made my escape to the
breakfast-table, where I herded among my busy cousins.

My uncle, that the events of the preceding day might not pass out of our
memory without a practical moral lesson, took occasion to give Rashleigh
and me his serious advice to correct our milksop habits, as he termed
them, and gradually to inure our brains to bear a gentlemanlike quantity
of liquor, without brawls or breaking of heads. He recommended that we
should begin piddling with a regular quart of claret per day, which, with
the aid of March beer and brandy, made a handsome competence for a
beginner in the art of toping. And for our encouragement, he assured us
that he had known many a man who had lived to our years without having
drunk a pint of wine at a sitting, who yet, by falling into honest
company, and following hearty example, had afterwards been numbered among
the best good fellows of the time, and could carry off their six bottles
under their belt quietly and comfortably, without brawling or babbling,
and be neither sick nor sorry the next morning.

Sage as this advice was, and comfortable as was the prospect it held out
to me, I profited but little by the exhortation--partly, perhaps,
because, as often as I raised my eyes from the table, I observed Miss
Vernon's looks fixed on me, in which I thought I could read grave
compassion blended with regret and displeasure. I began to consider how I
should seek a scene of explanation and apology with her also, when she
gave me to understand she was determined to save me the trouble of
soliciting an interview. "Cousin Francis," she said, addressing me by the
same title she used to give to the other Osbaldistones, although I had,
properly speaking, no title to be called her kinsman, "I have encountered
this morning a difficult passage in the Divina Comme'dia of Dante; will
you have the goodness to step to the library and give me your assistance?
and when you have unearthed for me the meaning of the obscure Florentine,
we will join the rest at Birkenwood-bank, and see their luck at
unearthing the badger."

I signified, of course, my readiness to wait upon her. Rashleigh made an
offer to accompany us. "I am something better skilled," he said, "at
tracking the sense of Dante through the metaphors and elisions of his
wild and gloomy poem, than at hunting the poor inoffensive hermit yonder
out of his cave."

"Pardon me, Rashleigh," said Miss Vernon, "but as you are to occupy Mr.
Francis's place in the counting-house, you must surrender to him the
charge of your pupil's education at Osbaldistone Hall. We shall call you
in, however, if there is any occasion; so pray do not look so grave upon
it. Besides, it is a shame to you not to understand field-sports--What
will you do should our uncle in Crane-Alley ask you the signs by which
you track a badger?"

"Ay, true, Die,--true," said Sir Hildebrand, with a sigh, "I misdoubt
Rashleigh will be found short at the leap when he is put to the trial. An
he would ha' learned useful knowledge like his brothers, he was bred up
where it grew, I wuss; but French antics, and book-learning, with the new
turnips, and the rats, and the Hanoverians, ha' changed the world that I
ha' known in Old England--But come along with us, Rashie, and carry my
hunting-staff, man; thy cousin lacks none of thy company as now, and I
wonna ha' Die crossed--It's ne'er be said there was but one woman in
Osbaldistone Hall, and she died for lack of her will."

Rashleigh followed his father, as he commanded, not, however, ere he had
whispered to Diana, "I suppose I must in discretion bring the courtier,
Ceremony, in my company, and knock when I approach the door of the
library?"

"No, no, Rashleigh," said Miss Vernon; "dismiss from your company the
false archimage Dissimulation, and it will better ensure your free access
to our classical consultations."

So saying, she led the way to the library, and I followed--like a
criminal, I was going to say, to execution; but, as I bethink me, I have
used the simile once, if not twice before. Without any simile at all,
then, I followed, with a sense of awkward and conscious embarrassment,
which I would have given a great deal to shake off. I thought it a
degrading and unworthy feeling to attend one on such an occasion, having
breathed the air of the Continent long enough to have imbibed the notion
that lightness, gallantry, and something approaching to well-bred
self-assurance, should distinguish the gentleman whom a fair lady selects
for her companion in a _tete-a-tete._

My English feelings, however, were too many for my French education, and
I made, I believe, a very pitiful figure, when Miss Vernon, seating
herself majestically in a huge elbow-chair in the library, like a judge
about to hear a cause of importance, signed to me to take a chair
opposite to her (which I did, much like the poor fellow who is going to
be tried), and entered upon conversation in a tone of bitter irony.

Sir Walter Scott