"I tempted his blood and his flesh,
Hid in roses my mesh,
Choicest cates, and the flagon's best spilth."
Robert Browning.
"Faugh," said Bruce, on his return to Camford, "that fellow Hazlet isn't
worth making an experiment upon--_in corpore vili_ truly; but the
creature is so wicked at heart, that even his cherished traditions
crumble at a touch. He's no game; he doesn't even run cunning."
"Then I hope you'll p-p-pay me my p-p-p-ponies," said Fitzurse.
"By no means; only I shall cut things short; he isn't worth playing; I
shall haul him in at once."
Accordingly, Hazlet was invited once more to one of Bruce's parties--
this time to a supper. It was one of the regular, reckless, uproarious
affairs--D'Acres, Boodle, Tulk, Brogten, Fitzurse, were all there, and
the elite of the fast fellow-commoners, and sporting men besides. Bruce
had privately entreated them all not to snub Hazlet, as he wanted to
have some fun. The supper was soon despatched, and the wine circled
plentifully. It was followed by a game of cards, during which the
punch-bowl stood in the centre of the table, rich, smoking, and crowned
with a concoction of unprecedented strength. Hazlet was quite in his
glory. When they had plied him sufficiently--which Bruce took care to
do by repeatedly replenishing his cup on the sly, so that he might fancy
himself to have taken much less than was really the case--they all drank
his health with the usual honours:
"For he's a jolly good fe-el-low.
For he's a jolly good fe-el-low,
For he's a jolly good fe-el-l-ow--
Which nobody can deny,
Which nobody can deny;
For he's a jolly good fe-el-low," etcetera.
And so on, _ad infinitum_, followed by "Hip! hip! hip! hurrah! hurrah!!
hurrah!!!" and then the general rattling of plates on the table, and
breaking of wine-glass stems with knives of "boys who crashed the glass
and beat the floor."
Hazlet was quite in the seventh heaven of exaltation, and made a feeble
attempt at replying to the honour in a speech; but he was in so very
oblivious and generally foolish a condition, that, being chiefly
accustomed to Philadelphus oratory, he began to address them as "My
Christian Friends;" and this produced such shouts of boisterous
laughter, that he sat down with his purpose unaccomplished.
Before the evening was over, Bruce, in the opinion of all present,
including Fitzurse himself, had fairly won his bet.
"I shan't mind p-p-paying a bit," said the excellent young nobleman;
"it's been such r-r-rare f-f-fun."
Rare fun indeed! The miserable Hazlet, swilled with unwonted draughts,
lay brutally comatose in a chair. His head rolled from side to side,
his body and arms hung helpless and disjointed, his eyelids dropped--he
was completely unconscious, and more than fulfilled the conditions of
being "roaring drunk!"
Now for some jolly amusement--the opportunity's too good to be lost!
What exhilaration there is on seeing a human soul imbruted and
grovelling hopelessly in the dirt or rather to have a body before you,
_without_ a soul for the time being--a coarse animal mass, swinish as
those whom the wand of Circe smote, but with the human intelligence
quenched besides, and the charactery of reason wiped away. Here, some
ochre and lamp-black, quick! There--plaster it well about the whiskers
and eyelids, and put a few patches on the hair! Magnificent!--he looks
like a Choctaw in his war-paint, after drinking fire-water.
Screams of irrepressible laughter--almost as ghastly, (if the cause of
them be considered), as those that might have sounded round a witch's
cauldron over diabolical orgies--accompanied the whole proceeding. So
loud were they that all the men on the stair-case heard them, and fully
expected the immediate apparition of some bulldog, dean, or proctor. It
was nobody's affair, however, but Bruce's, and he must do as he liked.
Suton, who "kept" near Bruce, was one of those whom the uproar puzzled
and disturbed, as he sat down with sober pleasure to his evening's work.
His window was opposite Bruce's, and across the narrow road he heard
distinctly most of what was said. The perpetual and noisy repetition of
Hazlet's name perplexed him extremely, and at last he could have no
doubt that they were making Hazlet drunk, and then painting him; nor was
it less clear that many of them were themselves half intoxicated.
It had of course been impossible for Suton and others of similar
character to avoid noticing the eccentricities of dress, and manner
which had been the outward indications of Hazlet's recent course. When
a man who has been accustomed to dress in black, and wear tail coats in
the morning, suddenly comes out in gorgeous apparel, and begins to talk
about cards, betting and theatres, his associates must be very blind, if
they do not observe that his theories are undergoing a tolerably
complete revolution. Suton saw with regret mingled with pity, Hazlet's
contemptible weakness, and he had once or twice endeavoured to give him
a hint of the ridicule which his metamorphosis occasioned; but Hazlet
had met his remarks with such silly arrogance, nay, with such a
patronising assumption of superiority, that he determined to leave him
to his own experiences. This did not prevent Suton from feeling a
strong and righteous indignation against the iniquity of those who were
inveigling another to his ruin, and he felt convinced that, as at this
moment Hazlet was being unfairly treated, it was his duty in some way to
interfere.
He got up quietly, and walked over to Bruce's rooms. His knock produced
instant silence, followed by a general scuffle as the men endeavoured to
conceal the worst signs of their recent outrage. When Suton opened the
door, he was greeted with a groan of derision.
"Confound you," said Bruce, "I thought it must be the senior proctor at
the very least."
Without noticing his remark, Suton quietly said, "I see, Bruce, that you
have been treating Hazlet in a very unwarrantable way; he is clearly not
in a fit condition to be trifled with any more; you must help me to take
him home."
"Ha! ha! rather a good joke. I shall merely shove him into the street,
if I do anything. What business has he to make a beast of himself in my
rooms?"
"What business have you to do the devil's work, and tempt others to sin?
You will have a terrible reckoning for it, even if no dangerous
consequences ensue," said Suton sternly.
"C-c-c-cant!" said Fitzurse.
"Yes--what you call cant, Fitzurse. You shall hear some more, and
tremble, sir, while you hear it," replied Suton, turning towards him,
and raising his hand with a powerful but natural gesture; "it is this
`Woe unto him that giveth his neighbour drink, that putteth thy bottle
to him, and makest him drunken also--_thou art filled with shame for
glory_.'"
"Bruce," said D'Acres, the least flushed of the party, "I really think
we ought to take the fellow home. Just look at him."
Bruce looked, and was really alarmed at the grotesque yet ghastly
expression of that striped and sodden face, with the straight black
hair, and the head lolling and rolling on the shoulder. Without a word,
he took Hazlet by one arm, while Suton held the other, and D'Acres
carried the legs, and as quickly as they could they hurried along with
their lifeless burden to the gates of Saint Werner's. It was long past
the usual hour for locking up, and the porter took down the names of all
four as they entered. A large bribe which D'Acres offered was firmly,
yet respectfully refused, and they knew that next day they would be
called to account.
Having put Hazlet to bed they separated; Suton bade the others a stiff
"Good-night;" and D'Acres as he left Bruce, said, "Bruce, we have been
doing a very blackguard thing."
"Speak for yourself," said Bruce.
"Good," said D'Acres, "and allow me to add that I have entered your
rooms for the last time."
Next morning Suton spoke privately to the porter, and told him that it
would be best for many reasons not to report what had taken place the
night before, beyond the bare fact of their having come into college
late at night. The man knew Suton thoroughly and respected him; he knew
him to be a man of genuine piety, and the most regular habits, and
consented, though not without difficulty, to omit all mention of
Hazlet's state. All four had of course to pay the usual gate fine, and
D'Acres and Bruce were besides "admonished" by the senior Dean, but
Suton and Hazlet were not even sent for. The Dean knew Suton well, and
felt that his character was a sufficient guarantee that he had not been
in any mischief; Hazlet had been irregular lately, but the Dean
considered him a very steady man, and overlooked for the present this
breach of rules.
Of course all Saint Werner's laughed over the story of Hazlet's
escapade. He did not know how to avoid the storm of ridicule which his
folly had stirred up. He had already begun to drop his "congenial
friends" for the more brilliant society to which Bruce had introduced
him, and so far from admitting that he felt any compunction, he
professed to regard the whole matter merely as "an amusing lark." Bruce
and the others hardly condescended to apologise, and at first Hazlet,
who found it impossible at once to remove all traces of the paint, and
who for a day or two felt thoroughly unwell, made a half-resolve to
resent their coolness. But now, deserted by his former associates, and
laughed at by the majority of men, he found the society of his tempters
indispensable for his comfort, and even cringed to them for the notice
which at first they felt inclined to withdraw.
"Wasn't that trick on Hazlet a disgraceful affair, Kennedy?" said
Julian, a few days after. "Some one told me you were at the supper
party; surely it can't be true."
"I was for about an hour," said Kennedy, blushing, "but I had left
before this took place."
"May I say it, Kennedy?--a friend's, a _brother's_ privilege, you know--
but it surprises me that you care to tolerate such company as that."
"Believe me, Julian, I don't enjoy it."
"Then why do you frequent it?"