CHAPTER XII.

Your mountain Sack, your Frontignac, Tokay, and twenty more, sir, Your Sherry and Perry, that make men merry, Are deities I adore, sir; And well may Port Our praise extort, When from his palace forth he comes, And glucks and gurgles, fumes and foams. Gluck, gluck, Hickup, gurgle and gluck. OLD SONG.

If one were to judge the traits of the vulgar from the indulgence they exhibit towards certain vices, or certain instances of their occurrence, it would be easy to show that man is, at bottom, a good-natured animal. It is certain that he betrays an extraordinary leniency in the case of a vice which all unite, in the abstract, to condemn; and that many men derive an importance from the sacrifice of reputation and mind to the Imp of the Bottle, which they might have failed to purchase by a life of wisdom and sobriety. It is not uncommon to find, in some rural districts, men of gross and degraded habits, whom a rational creature would spurn from him with contempt, and who are indeed the butts of ridicule or objects of commiseration, even among their own immediate neighbours; but who, strange to say, are regarded with a species of admiration, growing directly out of their profligacy. Such, we are sorry to say, are some of the rustic professors of law and physic, who, possessing a little talent, but no industry, prefer whiling the period of probationary idleness at the door, or in the bar-room, of the village tavern, to devoting it in the closet to that labour which is the only stepping-stone to distinction and fortune; and thus contracting a love for something more than idleness, and slipping, little by little, towards the bottom of the hill, are seen at last, downdraughts, with swollen visages and seedy garments, mingling among the coarse and base, themselves perhaps the coarsest and basest. You will see such a man gibed and laughed at by the lowest of his companions, as something that even they can despise; for whatever may be the hatred with which the humble regard the more lofty, they are the first to appreciate the degradation of a downfall; but the next moment you will hear them talk of him with praise. Is it 'the poor doctor at the Cross-Roads?' 'Oh, he is a ruined man, to be sure, and a sot; but he cures, when another man fails; somewhat dangerous now and then, when too "far in for it," but a marvellous hand at "rheumatisms and the fever."' Is it 'crusty Ned Jones, the lawyer?' 'Drinks like a fish, but with more sharp stuff in his brain than all the bar beside; a devil of a fellow to corner a witness, break a will, pick a flaw in an indictment, and set a jury a-sobbing: great pity he drinks,--but he's a tremendous orator, and all the better for a glass or two, in a hard case.' We have heard of a lawyer, a lover of his glass, who reformed his habits, and lost his practice.

The worthy Affidavy, who played so prominent a part in the jury of inquest, was one of this unfortunate class of beings, although he had commenced the world with as fair prospects as could be derived from a moderate share of talent, and some native energy of character, and was yet in the prime of his years. He had sunk into poverty and neglect, was any man's fellow, and every man's scorn; yet the lower he sunk, the loftier became men's opinions of his natural parts and his professional knowledge; and Squire Schlachtenschlager was wont to say, 'he pelieved Affidafy mate petter speeches now than he tidt afore, fen he fas a soper man.' While such generous opinions prevailed, the lawyer had still 'something to do' in the way of his profession; but the sad condition of his outward man showed that this was far from being profitable. Indeed, if the truth must be told, his admirers, though of humours sufficiently litigious, were oftener inclined to employ than able to pay; and those of better estates, however they marvelled at the sagacity, and applauded the speeches of the man of buckram, were rather shy of applying to him for assistance, until they felt their cases to be growing desperate. The consequence of this state of things was, that Mr. Theophilus Affidavy was compelled to resort to many shifts to obtain a subsistence, that added little to his reputation; and would indeed have been hooted from the county, had he not been protected by the armour of imputed genius, which his habits seemed to fasten around him.

The account he received of the wealth of the unfortunate Hyland produced a strong effect upon his acquisitive propensities; and he saw at a glance, that if his counsel could be of no benefit to the prisoner, it might undoubtedly be of some to himself. "He is a Hawk of the Hollow," he muttered to himself, "and so every one will be against him. Good! There will be much apparent merit therefore in undertaking his defence. His case is bad,--awful bad--better! To volunteer in such a case, will infer at once the possession of extraordinary skill, worthy of extraordinary reward. He has money--excellent! But, botheration, the other Jack-brains will find that out, and dive at him before me. Must have Schlachtenschlager's horse, if I have to steal him--nobody else will lend me one. An old ass; but can twist him round my thumb as easily as a tape of tobacco."

Such were the reflections of the attorney, as with his brother jurors, one of whom had given him a seat in his little Jersey wagon, he followed Schlachtenschlager, to share the feast this worthy had prepared for his associates at the Green Tree.

The soliloquy of the lawyer seemed to infer a doubt of the performance of the promise Schlachtenschlager had so generously made of lending him a horse. This doubt was engendered by a sudden change in the sky, which, from having been perfectly clear and placid, suddenly began to be covered with clouds, and these of an appearance so gloomy and menacing that full half the jurors became alarmed, and, excusing themselves from accepting the proffered hospitality, hurried to their homes, leaving the revels to be shared by those who dwelt in the Squire's immediate neighbourhood. The attorney, wonderful to be said, had as strong an impulse to be gone as others, although fully sensible of the excellence of the magistrate's potables, and of the painful sacrifice he should make in tearing himself away; but on the other hand, he perceived that a violent thunderstorm was brewing, and he knew the Squire to be a prudent man, who loved his beast as he loved his wife, and indeed a great deal better, and would be loath to lend him after the storm had once set in. For this reason, as soon as he had reached the inn, he reminded the Squire of his promise, swore he would drink but a single glass, and then be off, without waiting for the rain.

The Squire scratched his head, and replied,

"Vy, Mr. Affidafy, I don't know. The veather vill be padt, and I don't like it: it vill pe padt on the horse. So, Affidafy, ve vill vait a little and see; and, pesides, my poy," added the dignitary, clapping him on the shoulder, as if to atone by condescension for the disappointment he inflicted, "ve fill not forget the dtrinking, and the jolly-making. Py mine heart, my poy, ve fill have petter fun for you than trampling about in the rain mit a stumpling horse. Fat, man, fy we're all Deutschers put you! Here's Jake Musser, and Hans Fackeltrager, and Alberick Klappermuhle, and Franz Beschwerlich, and Simson Kleiber, and mineself; and then there's you. Mine Gott, ve fill be jolly; for I will proach a parrel of Nierensteiner,--mine soul! it is as goodt as any in the whole Rheingau! and I do keep it for mineself. And ve fill dtrink and ve fill sing, as if ve fas all in the Rheingau itself; for my voman, Gott pless her, she is cone to the fillage, and the poys is out a looking after the ploodty Hawks. Aha, Affidafy, my poy! you shall see fat it is to dtrink Rhine wine, mit six goodt Deutschers to help you. Fat do you say, poys? can you sing the Rheinweinlied in a t'under-storm? Aha, you see, Affidafy! Fell, if ve are few, vy ve fill be merry."

It was in vain to pursue his desire, at such a moment; and indeed the attorney's blood tingled with joy at the thought of the flowing bowls, offered in such an oration. "Very well, you old fool," he muttered to himself, "I will drink till your cursed sour old cider trash, that you call Rhine wine, has opened your heart; and then, botheration, I will bubble you out of the best horse in your stable. Well, it is well it's no worse: it _will_ rain, and that cats and dogs."

The indications of the weather were not falsified by the event. In less than half an hour after all were safely housed, the heavens were covered with pitchy clouds, from which were discharged dazzling thunderbolts. Then came a terrific blast of wind, rending boughs from the trees, and making the chimneys rock on the housetop; and this again was followed by a furious driving rain, falling in such torrents as promised in a few hours to swell the smallest brooks into impassable rivers. This continued until nightfall, and was then only terminated to be succeeded by deceitful intervals of calm, broken in upon, even when least expected, by violent gusts of wind and rain.

It is not our design to pursue the conversation, nor to describe the revels of the six Deutschers and their American companion, under the roof of the Herr Schlachtenschlager. Secure from the tempest, they defied its rage, and made even the roar of the thunder and the plash of the rain contribute to their enjoyment. Armstrong has described, in a few lines that find a responsive chord in every bosom, the luxurious addition to the comfort of a warm bed, produced by the tumult of a midnight tempest:

"Oh! when the growling winds contend, and all The sounding forest fluctuates in the storm, To sink in warm repose, and hear the din Howl o'er the steady battlements, delights Beyond the luxury of vulgar sleep."

The same cause is said by those who are philosophic in such matters, to add peculiar zest to the hissing of the tea-kettle, and the rattle of the punch-bowl. Perhaps, then, it was the violence of the storm, rather than the excellence of the liquor, which betrayed the worthy Schlachtenschlager and his guests into a degree of conviviality somewhat inconsistent with the melancholy duties they had just rendered to the commonwealth and the dead. But whatever was the cause, it is very certain they forgot the dead and the commonwealth together, and by nightfall were seven of the happiest men in all the rebellious colonies of America. By that time Affidavy was as glorified in his spirit as the rest; and suddenly starting up in the midst of a crashing peal of thunder, he hiccuped, and then roared,

"Success to the Rhine wine, sweet or sour! and the devil take him that won't sing its praises as loudly as e'er a rascal of the Rheingau itself! So up, you German pigs, and let's sing! up, you Hanz, Franz, Alberick, Jake, and Simson! up, you old rogue Schlachtenschlager, for you can sing like a cherubim! and up, you jolly dog, Teff Affidavy, who is up already, and can sing as well as the best! join hands, bring flowers, crown the cup, and sing the Rheinweinlied like seven angels--the Rheinweinlied, you hard-headed, jolly dogs, in broad Deutsch! and after that, we'll sing it in my own translation, botheration, which is better than the original, for all that ass, Jingleum, says _he_ made it. Are you ready?"

"Ready!" responded the happy six; and in an instant every man was singing, at the top of his voice, the famous Rheinweinlied--a song of such noble and heart-stirring capacity, at least so far as the music is concerned, that if it be objected to it, that it has sometimes set a singer beside himself, it may be wondered how any one can hear it and keep sober at all. The winds blew, the rain fell, and the lightning flashed, while this jolly company rose round the table, and sang in concert the praises of old father Rhine.

THE RHEINWEINLIED.

I.

Bekränzt mit Laub den lieben vollen Becher, Und trinkt ihn fröhlich leer. In ganz Europia, Ihr Herren Zecher! Ist solch ein Wein nicht mehr.

II.

Ihn bringt das Vaterland ans seiner Fülle: Wie wär er sonst so gut? Wie wär er sonst so edel, wäre stille Un doch voll Krafft und Muth?

III.

Am Rhein, am Rhein, da wachsen unsre Reben; Gesegnet sei der Rhein! Da wachsen sie am ufer hin, und geben Uns diesen Labewein.

IV.

So trinkt ihn denn, und lasst uns alle Wege Uns freum und fröhlich seyn! Und wüsster wir wo iemand traurig läge, Wir gäben ihm den Wein.

"Bravo! bravissimo! bravississimo!" cried Affidavy. "Here's to you, you dogs--'_Ihr Herren Zecher!_' And now for _my_ paraphrase. All you that don't know it, why you may sing the German lingo over again: the two will go very well together."

So saying, he burst forth on the following _rifacimento_ of the original; the others, in general, holding fast to their own more sonorous expressions; the effect of which Babel-like intermixture of languages was to increase the noise, if it did not add to the spirit of the author.

I.

The right Rhine wine! We'll crown the cup with roses, And quaff about, and laugh about, Till all eyes wink! Such joys divine Sure mother Nature owes us: So laugh about, and quaff about,-- Come, drink, boys, drink!

II.

Our Father-land! 'Tis that the vine produces: How else should be this jolly wine So good, so good? Long as we stand, We'll put it to its uses: So laugh about, and quaff about, As true souls should!

III.

Oh Rhine! old Rhine, With milk and honey flowing! There grows the tree so well love we, The Vine, the Vine! There clusters shine On branches ever growing: So laugh about, and quaff about The good Rhine wine!

IV.

Come, drink, ha! ha! And, sure, we'll all be merry; Come, drink, ha, ha! come, laugh, ha, ha! Oh! ha, ha, ha! As full are we As e'er a Rhine-wine berry: So laugh about, and quaff about,-- Oh! ha, ha, ha!

It may be supposed that Affidavy had long since, in the joy of revelry, discharged from his mind all memory of the case which had so inflamed his fancy, and was content to leave it to be snapped up by a more fortunate rival. How far this was from the truth may be inferred from a phenomenon that presented itself about an hour after nightfall, at which period he appeared on the porch, followed by Schlachtenschlager and the rest, all singing with as much zeal as before, but vastly out of time and tune. A saddled horse stood at the door, on whose back some assisted the attorney to clamber, while others were seen holding by railing and pillar, and venting much good counsel with a deal of bad music. The Squire himself stood embracing a pillar, now poking forth his bare noddle to the drops trickling from the porch-roof, and now withdrawing it, to utter divers 'teufels!' and 'donners!' as the cold element profaned his visage of dignity, yet still maintaining his stand, and expatiating on the merit of the service he was rendering his guest.

"You see, Affidafy, man," he cried, "I'm a goodt-natured fellow: put there's my horse, my pest horse, and it's a padt night; and, Affidafy, man, you're as dtrunk as a chudge, poor man. But ho, ho! that's no matter, for ve're all so:

'As full are ve As ever vas a Rhine-fine perry:'

Very goodt that, Affidafy!--Fell, ve're all mortal sinners; and, mine Gott, there is but little left in mine parrel, and Nierensteiner costs money. Fell! goodt pye, Affidafy, my poy, goodt night. Take goodt care of the horse, for he's my pest horse, Affidafy, for I'm a goodt-natured fellow as ever it vas. Goodt night, Affidafy!"----And "Goodt night, Affidafy!" muttered all, as the attorney, fetching a desperate reel in the saddle, waved a graceful adieu, and turned to depart. Instead of replying, however, to the farewell, he burst out again with

'The right Rhine wine!'

and the others obeying the invitation, again opened their lips, and chanted _Bekränzt mit Laub_, till he was out of sight. Then they staggered back into the house, to continue their orgies; where we will leave them, to follow the course of the attorney.