by Walter Scott
CHAPTER SECOND.
I begin shrewdly to suspect the young man of a terrible taint--Poetry; with which idle disease if he be infected, there's no hope of him in astate course. _Actum est_ of him for a commonwealth's man, if he goto't in rhyme once. Ben Jonson's _Bartholomew Fair._
My father had, generally speaking, his temper under completeself-command, and his anger rarely indicated itself by words, except ina sort of dry testy manner, to those who had displeased him. He neverused threats, or expressions of loud resentment. All was arranged withhim on system, and it was his practice to do "the needful" on everyoccasion, without wasting words about it. It was, therefore, with abitter smile that he listened to my imperfect answers concerning thestate of commerce in France, and unmercifully permitted me to involvemyself deeper and deeper in the mysteries of agio, tariffs, tare andtret; nor can I charge my memory with his having looked positivelyangry, until he found me unable to explain the exact effect which thedepreciation of the louis d'or had produced on the negotiation of billsof exchange. "The most remarkable national occurrence in my time," saidmy father (who nevertheless had seen the Revolution)--"and he knows nomore of it than a post on the quay!"
"Mr. Francis," suggested Owen, in his timid and conciliatory manner,"cannot have forgotten, that by an _arret_ of the King of France, dated1st May 1700, it was provided that the _porteur,_ within ten days afterdue, must make demand"--
"Mr. Francis," said my father, interrupting him, "will, I dare say,recollect for the moment anything you are so kind as hint to him. But,body o' me! how Dubourg could permit him! Hark ye, Owen, what sort of ayouth is Clement Dubourg, his nephew there, in the office, theblack-haired lad?"
"One of the cleverest clerks, sir, in the house; a prodigious young manfor his time," answered Owen; for the gaiety and civility of the youngFrenchman had won his heart.
"Ay, ay, I suppose _he_ knows something of the nature of exchange.Dubourg was determined I should have one youngster at least about my handwho understood business. But I see his drift, and he shall find that I doso when he looks at the balance-sheet. Owen, let Clement's salary be paidup to next quarter-day, and let him ship himself back to Bourdeaux in hisfather's ship, which is clearing out yonder."
"Dismiss Clement Dubourg, sir?" said Owen, with a faltering voice.
"Yes, sir, dismiss him instantly; it is enough to have a stupidEnglishman in the counting-house to make blunders, without keeping asharp Frenchman there to profit by them."
I had lived long enough in the territories of the _Grand Monarque_ tocontract a hearty aversion to arbitrary exertion of authority, even if ithad not been instilled into me with my earliest breeding; and I could notrefrain from interposing, to prevent an innocent and meritorious youngman from paying the penalty of having acquired that proficiency which myfather had desired for me.
"I beg pardon, sir," when Mr. Osbaldistone had done speaking; "but Ithink it but just, that if I have been negligent of my studies, I shouldpay the forfeit myself. I have no reason to charge Monsieur Dubourg withhaving neglected to give me opportunities of improvement, however littleI may have profited by them; and with respect to Monsieur ClementDubourg"--
"With respect to him, and to you, I shall take the measures which I seeneedful," replied my father; "but it is fair in you, Frank, to take yourown blame on your own shoulders--very fair, that cannot be denied.--Icannot acquit old Dubourg," he said, looking to Owen, "for having merelyafforded Frank the means of useful knowledge, without either seeing thathe took advantage of them or reporting to me if he did not. You see,Owen, he has natural notions of equity becoming a British merchant."
"Mr. Francis," said the head-clerk, with his usual formal inclination ofthe head, and a slight elevation of his right hand, which he had acquiredby a habit of sticking his pen behind his ear before he spoke--"Mr.Francis seems to understand the fundamental principle of all moralaccounting, the great ethic rule of three. Let A do to B, as he wouldhave B do to him; the product will give the rule of conduct required."
My father smiled at this reduction of the golden rule to arithmeticalform, but instantly proceeded.
"All this signifies nothing, Frank; you have been throwing away your timelike a boy, and in future you must learn to live like a man. I shall putyou under Owen's care for a few months, to recover the lost ground."
I was about to reply, but Owen looked at me with such a supplicatory andwarning gesture, that I was involuntarily silent.
"We will then," continued my father, "resume the subject of mine of the1st ultimo, to which you sent me an answer which was unadvised andunsatisfactory. So now, fill your glass, and push the bottle to Owen."
Want of courage--of audacity if you will--was never my failing. Ianswered firmly, "I was sorry that my letter was unsatisfactory,unadvised it was not; for I had given the proposal his goodness had mademe, my instant and anxious attention, and it was with no small pain thatI found myself obliged to decline it."
My father bent his keen eye for a moment on me, and instantly withdrewit. As he made no answer, I thought myself obliged to proceed, thoughwith some hesitation, and he only interrupted me by monosyllables.--"Itis impossible, sir, for me to have higher respect for any character thanI have for the commercial, even were it not yours."
"Indeed!"
"It connects nation with nation, relieves the wants, and contributes tothe wealth of all; and is to the general commonwealth of the civilisedworld what the daily intercourse of ordinary life is to private society,or rather, what air and food are to our bodies."
"Well, sir?"
"And yet, sir, I find myself compelled to persist in declining to adopt acharacter which I am so ill qualified to support."
"I will take care that you acquire the qualifications necessary. You areno longer the guest and pupil of Dubourg."
"But, my dear sir, it is no defect of teaching which I plead, but my owninability to profit by instruction."
"Nonsense.--Have you kept your journal in the terms I desired?"
"Yes, sir."
"Be pleased to bring it here."
The volume thus required was a sort of commonplace book, kept by myfather's recommendation, in which I had been directed to enter notes ofthe miscellaneous information which I had acquired in the course of mystudies. Foreseeing that he would demand inspection of this record, I hadbeen attentive to transcribe such particulars of information as he wouldmost likely be pleased with, but too often the pen had discharged thetask without much correspondence with the head. And it had also happened,that, the book being the receptacle nearest to my hand, I hadoccasionally jotted down memoranda which had little regard to traffic. Inow put it into my father's hand, devoutly hoping he might light onnothing that would increase his displeasure against me. Owen's face,which had looked something blank when the question was put, cleared up atmy ready answer, and wore a smile of hope, when I brought from myapartment, and placed before my father, a commercial-looking volume,rather broader than it was long, having brazen clasps and a binding ofrough calf. This looked business-like, and was encouraging to mybenevolent well-wisher. But he actually smiled with pleasure as he heardmy father run over some part of the contents, muttering his criticalremarks as he went on.
"_--Brandies--Barils and barricants, also tonneaux.--At Nantz 29--Vellesto the barique at Cognac and Rochelle 27--At Bourdeaux 32_--Very right,Frank--_Duties on tonnage and custom-house, see Saxby's Tables_--That'snot well; you should have transcribed the passage; it fixes the thing inthe memory--_Reports outward and inward--Corn debentures--Over-seaCockets--Linens--Isingham--Gentish--Stock-fish--Titling--Cropling--Lub-fish._ You should have noted that they are all, nevertheless to beentered as titlings.--How many inches long is a titling?"
Owen, seeing me at fault, hazarded a whisper, of which I fortunatelycaught the import.
"Eighteen inches, sir."--
"And a lub-fish is twenty-four--very right. It is important to rememberthis, on account of the Po
rtuguese trade--But what have we here?--_Bourdeaux founded in the year--Castle of the Trompette--Palace ofGallienus_--Well, well, that's very right too.--This is a kind ofwaste-book, Owen, in which all the transactions of the day,--emptions,orders, payments, receipts, acceptances, draughts, commissions, andadvices,--are entered miscellaneously."
"That they may be regularly transferred to the day-book and ledger,"answered Owen: "I am glad Mr. Francis is so methodical."
I perceived myself getting so fast into favour, that I began to fear theconsequence would be my father's more obstinate perseverance in hisresolution that I must become a merchant; and as I was determined on thecontrary, I began to wish I had not, to use my friend Mr. Owen's phrase,been so methodical. But I had no reason for apprehension on that score;for a blotted piece of paper dropped out of the book, and, being taken upby my father, he interrupted a hint from Owen, on the propriety ofsecuring loose memoranda with a little paste, by exclaiming, "To thememory of Edward the Black Prince--What's all this?--verses!--By Heaven,Frank, you are a greater blockhead than I supposed you!"
My father, you must recollect, as a man of business, looked upon thelabour of poets with contempt; and as a religious man, and of thedissenting persuasion, he considered all such pursuits as equally trivialand profane. Before you condemn him, you must recall to remembrance howtoo many of the poets in the end of the seventeenth century had led theirlives and employed their talents. The sect also to which my fatherbelonged, felt, or perhaps affected, a puritanical aversion to thelighter exertions of literature. So that many causes contributed toaugment the unpleasant surprise occasioned by the ill-timed discovery ofthis unfortunate copy of verses. As for poor Owen, could the bob-wigwhich he then wore have uncurled itself, and stood on end with horror, Iam convinced the morning's labour of the friseur would have been undone,merely by the excess of his astonishment at this enormity. An inroad onthe strong-box, or an erasure in the ledger, or a mis-summation in afitted account, could hardly have surprised him more disagreeably. Myfather read the lines sometimes with an affectation of not being able tounderstand the sense--sometimes in a mouthing tone of mock heroic--alwayswith an emphasis of the most bitter irony, most irritating to the nervesof an author.
"O for the voice of that wild horn, On Fontarabian echoes borne, The dying hero's call, That told imperial Charlemagne, How Paynim sons of swarthy Spain Had wrought his champion's fall.
"_Fontarabian echoes!_" continued my father, interrupting himself; "theFontarabian Fair would have been more to the purpose--_Paynim!_--What'sPaynim?--Could you not say Pagan as well, and write English at least, ifyou must needs write nonsense?--
"Sad over earth and ocean sounding. And England's distant cliffs astounding. Such are the notes should say How Britain's hope, and France's fear, Victor of Cressy and Poitier, In Bordeaux dying lay."
"Poitiers, by the way, is always spelt with an _s,_ and I know no reasonwhy orthography should give place to rhyme.--
"'Raise my faint head, my squires,' he said, 'And let the casement be display'd, That I may see once more The splendour of the setting sun Gleam on thy mirrored wave, Garonne, And Blaye's empurpled shore.
"_Garonne_ and _sun_ is a bad rhyme. Why, Frank, you do not evenunderstand the beggarly trade you have chosen.
"'Like me, he sinks to Glory's sleep, His fall the dews of evening steep, As if in sorrow shed, So soft shall fall the trickling tear, When England's maids and matrons hear Of their Black Edward dead.
"'And though my sun of glory set, Nor France, nor England, shall forget The terror of my name; And oft shall Britain's heroes rise, New planets in these southern skies, Through clouds of blood and flame.'
"A cloud of flame is something new--Good-morrow, my masters all, and amerry Christmas to you!--Why, the bellman writes better lines." He thentossed the paper from him with an air of superlative contempt, andconcluded--"Upon my credit, Frank, you are a greater blockhead than Itook you for."
What could I say, my dear Tresham? There I stood, swelling with indignantmortification, while my father regarded me with a calm but stern look ofscorn and pity; and poor Owen, with uplifted hands and eyes, looked asstriking a picture of horror as if he had just read his patron's name inthe Gazette. At length I took courage to speak, endeavouring that my toneof voice should betray my feelings as little as possible.
"I am quite aware, sir, how ill qualified I am to play the conspicuouspart in society you have destined for me; and, luckily, I am notambitious of the wealth I might acquire. Mr. Owen would be a much moreeffective assistant." I said this in some malice, for I considered Owenas having deserted my cause a little too soon.
"Owen!" said my father--"The boy is mad--actually insane. And, pray, sir,if I may presume to inquire, having coolly turned me over to Mr. Owen(although I may expect more attention from any one than from my son),what may your own sage projects be?"
"I should wish, sir," I replied, summoning up my courage, "to travel fortwo or three years, should that consist with your pleasure; otherwise,although late, I would willingly spend the same time at Oxford orCambridge."
"In the name of common sense! was the like ever heard?--to put yourselfto school among pedants and Jacobites, when you might be pushing yourfortune in the world! Why not go to Westminster or Eton at once, man, andtake to Lilly's Grammar and Accidence, and to the birch, too, if you likeit?"
"Then, sir, if you think my plan of improvement too late, I wouldwillingly return to the Continent."
"You have already spent too much time there to little purpose, Mr.Francis."
"Then I would choose the army, sir, in preference to any other activeline of life."
"Choose the d--l!" answered my father, hastily, and then checkinghimself--"I profess you make me as great a fool as you are yourself. Ishe not enough to drive one mad, Owen?"--Poor Owen shook his head, andlooked down. "Hark ye, Frank," continued my father, "I will cut all thismatter very short. I was at your age when my father turned me out ofdoors, and settled my legal inheritance on my younger brother. I leftOsbaldistone Hall on the back of a broken-down hunter, with ten guineasin my purse. I have never crossed the threshold again, and I never will.I know not, and I care not, if my fox-hunting brother is alive, or hasbroken his neck; but he has children, Frank, and one of them shall be myson if you cross me farther in this matter."
"You will do your pleasure," I answered--rather, I fear, with more sullenindifference than respect, "with what is your own."
"Yes, Frank, what I have _is_ my own, if labour in getting, and care inaugmenting, can make a right of property; and no drone shall feed on myhoneycomb. Think on it well: what I have said is not without reflection,and what I resolve upon I will execute."
"Honoured sir!--dear sir!" exclaimed Owen, tears rushing into his eyes,"you are not wont to be in such a hurry in transacting business ofimportance. Let Mr. Francis run up the balance before you shut theaccount; he loves you, I am sure; and when he puts down his filialobedience to the _per contra,_ I am sure his objections will disappear."
"Do you think I will ask him twice," said my father, sternly, "to be myfriend, my assistant, and my confidant?--to be a partner of my cares andof my fortune?--Owen, I thought you had known me better."
He looked at me as if he meant to add something more, but turnedinstantly away, and left the room abruptly. I was, I own, affected bythis view of the case, which had not occurred to me; and my father wouldprobably have had little reason to complain of me, had he commenced thediscussion with this
argument.
But it was too late. I had much of his own obduracy of resolution, andHeaven had decreed that my sin should be my punishment, though not to theextent which my transgression merited. Owen, when we were left alone,continued to look at me with eyes which tears from time to timemoistened, as if to discover, before attempting the task of intercessor,upon what point my obstinacy was most assailable. At length he began,with broken and disconcerted accents,--"O L--d, Mr. Francis!--GoodHeavens, sir!--My stars, Mr. Osbaldistone!--that I should ever have seenthis day--and you so young a gentleman, sir!--For the love of Heaven!look at both sides of the account--think what you are going to lose--anoble fortune, sir--one of the finest houses in the City, even under theold firm of Tresham and Trent, and now Osbaldistone and Tresham--Youmight roll in gold, Mr. Francis--And, my dear young Mr. Frank, if therewas any particular thing in the business of the house which you disliked,I would" (sinking his voice to a whisper) "put it in order for youtermly, or weekly, or daily, if you will--Do, my dear Mr. Francis, thinkof the honour due to your father, that your days may be long in theland."
"I am much obliged to you, Mr. Owen," said I--"very much obliged indeed;but my father is best judge how to bestow his money. He talks of one ofmy cousins: let him dispose of his wealth as he pleases--I will neversell my liberty for gold."
"Gold, sir?--I wish you saw the balance-sheet of profits at last term--Itwas in five figures--five figures to each partner's sum total, Mr.Frank--And all this is to go to a Papist, and a north-country booby, anda disaffected person besides--It will break my heart, Mr. Francis, thathave been toiling more like a dog than a man, and all for love ofthe firm. Think how it will sound, Osbaldistone, Tresham, andOsbaldistone--or perhaps, who knows" (again lowering his voice),"Osbaldistone, Osbaldistone, and Tresham, for our Mr. Osbaldistone canbuy them all out."
"But, Mr. Owen, my cousin's name being also Osbaldistone, the name of thecompany will sound every bit as well in your ears."
"O fie upon you, Mr. Francis, when you know how well I love you--Yourcousin, indeed!--a Papist, no doubt, like his father, and a disaffectedperson to the Protestant succession--that's another item, doubtless."
"There are many very good men Catholics, Mr. Owen," rejoined I.
As Owen was about to answer with unusual animation, my father re-enteredthe apartment.
"You were right," he said, "Owen, and I was wrong; we will take more timeto think over this matter.--Young man, you will prepare to give me ananswer on this important subject this day month."
I bowed in silence, sufficiently glad of a reprieve, and trusting itmight indicate some relaxation in my father's determination.
The time of probation passed slowly, unmarked by any accident whatever. Iwent and came, and disposed of my time as I pleased, without question orcriticism on the part of my father. Indeed, I rarely saw him, save atmeal-times, when he studiously avoided a discussion which you may wellsuppose I was in no hurry to press onward. Our conversation was of thenews of the day, or on such general topics as strangers discourse upon toeach other; nor could any one have guessed, from its tenor, that thereremained undecided betwixt us a dispute of such importance. It hauntedme, however, more than once, like the nightmare. Was it possible he wouldkeep his word, and disinherit his only son in favour of a nephew whosevery existence he was not perhaps quite certain of? My grandfather'sconduct, in similar circumstances, boded me no good, had I considered thematter rightly. But I had formed an erroneous idea of my father'scharacter, from the importance which I recollected I maintained with himand his whole family before I went to France. I was not aware that thereare men who indulge their children at an early age, because to do sointerests and amuses them, and who can yet be sufficiently severe whenthe same children cross their expectations at a more advanced period. Onthe contrary, I persuaded myself, that all I had to apprehend was sometemporary alienation of affection--perhaps a rustication of a few weeks,which I thought would rather please me than otherwise, since it wouldgive me an opportunity of setting about my unfinished version of OrlandoFurioso, a poem which I longed to render into English verse. I sufferedthis belief to get such absolute possession of my mind, that I hadresumed my blotted papers, and was busy in meditation on theoft-recurring rhymes of the Spenserian stanza, when I heard a low andcautious tap at the door of my apartment. "Come in," I said, and Mr. Owenentered. So regular were the motions and habits of this worthy man, thatin all probability this was the first time he had ever been in the secondstory of his patron's house, however conversant with the first; and I amstill at a loss to know in what manner he discovered my apartment.
"Mr. Francis," he said, interrupting my expression of surprise andpleasure at seeing, him, "I do not know if I am doing well in what I amabout to say--it is not right to speak of what passes in thecompting-house out of doors--one should not tell, as they say, to thepost in the warehouse, how many lines there are in the ledger. But youngTwineall has been absent from the house for a fortnight and more, untiltwo days since."
"Very well, my dear sir, and how does that concern us?"
"Stay, Mr. Francis;--your father gave him a private commission; and I amsure he did not go down to Falmouth about the pilchard affair; and theExeter business with Blackwell and Company has been settled; and themining people in Cornwall, Trevanion and Treguilliam, have paid all theyare likely to pay; and any other matter of business must have been putthrough my books:--in short, it's my faithful belief that Twineall hasbeen down in the north."
"Do you really suppose?" so said I, somewhat startled.
"He has spoken about nothing, sir, since he returned, but his new boots,and his Ripon spurs, and a cockfight at York--it's as true as themultiplication-table. Do, Heaven bless you, my dear child, make up yourmind to please your father, and to be a man and a merchant at once."
I felt at that instant a strong inclination to submit, and to make Owenhappy by requesting him to tell my father that I resigned myself to hisdisposal. But pride--pride, the source of so much that is good and somuch that is evil in our course of life, prevented me. My acquiescencestuck in my throat; and while I was coughing to get it up, my father'svoice summoned Owen. He hastily left the room, and the opportunity waslost.
My father was methodical in everything. At the very same time of the day,in the same apartment, and with the same tone and manner which he hademployed an exact month before, he recapitulated the proposal he had madefor taking me into partnership, and assigning me a department in thecounting-house, and requested to have my final decision. I thought at thetime there was something unkind in this; and I still think that myfather's conduct was injudicious. A more conciliatory treatment would, inall probability, have gained his purpose. As it was, I stood fast, and,as respectfully as I could, declined the proposal he made to me.Perhaps--for who can judge of their own heart?--I felt it unmanly toyield on the first summons, and expected farther solicitation, as atleast a pretext for changing my mind. If so, I was disappointed; for myfather turned coolly to Owen, and only said, "You see it is as I toldyou.--Well, Frank" (addressing me), "you are nearly of age, and as wellqualified to judge of what will constitute your own happiness as youever are like to be; therefore, I say no more. But as I am not bound togive in to your plans, any more than you are compelled to submit tomine, may I ask to know if you have formed any which depend on myassistance?"
I answered, not a little abashed, "That being bred to no profession, andhaving no funds of my own, it was obviously impossible for me to subsistwithout some allowance from my father; that my wishes were very moderate;and that I hoped my aversion for the profession to which he had designedme, would not occasion his altogether withdrawing his paternal supportand protection."
"That is to say, you wish to lean on my arm, and yet to walk your ownway? That can hardly be, Frank;--however, I suppose you mean to obey mydirections, so far as they do not cross your own humour?"
I was about to speak--"Silence, if you please," he continued. "Supposingthis to be the case, you will instantly se
t out for the north of England,to pay your uncle a visit, and see the state of his family. I have chosenfrom among his sons (he has six, I believe) one who, I understand, ismost worthy to fill the place I intended for you in the counting-house.But some farther arrangements may be necessary, and for these yourpresence may be requisite. You shall have farther instructions atOsbaldistone Hall, where you will please to remain until you hear fromme. Everything will be ready for your departure to-morrow morning."
With these words my father left the apartment.
"What does all this mean, Mr. Owen?" said I to my sympathetic friend,whose countenance wore a cast of the deepest dejection.
"You have ruined yourself, Mr. Frank, that's all. When your father talksin that quiet determined manner, there will be no more change in him thanin a fitted account."
And so it proved; for the next morning, at five o'clock, I found myselfon the road to York, mounted on a reasonably good horse, and with fiftyguineas in my pocket; travelling, as it would seem, for the purpose ofassisting in the adoption of a successor to myself in my father's houseand favour, and, for aught I knew, eventually in his fortune also.
