We draw a curtain over the scene of distress displayed in Gilbert's Folly, when the body of Henry Falconer, late the gayest of its inmates, was laid at the feet of his father and sister; and pass to that which followed, when a justice of the peace, acting in the place of a coroner, assembled a jury of inquest around the bloody couch, to determine from the melancholy story of the dead, the fatal responsibility of the living. The official was a personage who exercised, along with the duties of a magistrate, the equally dignified functions of mine host of the Green Tree Tavern; and was, indeed, no less a man than that rival of Elsie Bell, whose formidable opposition, many years before, had completed the downfall of the Traveller's Rest. He was now a man of substance, portly in person, and inflated by the dignity of office into a certain dignity of manner; his step was like the roll of a ship, and when he breathed, it was with a forcible and majestic expiration of breath, like the snort of a war-horse. He had been noticed, as he advanced in the world, for the independence,—or, to speak more strictly, the tyranny with which he conducted himself among his guests; not, indeed, that he ever beat, or even committed them, as, in virtue of his office, he might have done; but because, as he said, he heartily 'despised peing pottered mit 'em.' He was not austere or quarrelsome of disposition, but he was a lover of his ease in his inn; and his despotism was shown less in violent opposition than in contemptuous indifference of all humours save his own. He abhorred all fault-finding, but as he equally detested the trouble of reprehending it, he devised a scheme by which discontent was either nipped in the bud, or severely reproved as soon as made manifest, and all without any labour on his own part. He caused to be painted on his sign-board, having daubed off the green tree to make room for it, the following cabalistic legend,—
legend
legend
which he was accustomed to translate,viva voce, to all incapable of understanding it, in a quaternion as remarkable for its expressive simplicity as for its philosophic comprehensiveness:
This,—that is to say, the original morceau,—as he justly conceived, contained a standing answer for all grumblers, and by being in such a conspicuous situation, served as a warning to them beforehand; while, at the same time, if a guest chanced to forget its existence, it only needed the philosophic Schlachtenschlager (for that was the dignitary's name,) to point to it with his finger, and demand, 'Fat does that mean?' to bring him to reason. At all events, his translation was always at hand, in case of extremity, and was of such supreme efficacy in laying all evil spirits by the heels, that he used to declare with triumph, 'It fas neffer needs to say it twice.'
Such was the functionary who now introduced his assistants into the chamber of death, exulting in his own importance and his success in completing the number against all the difficulties resulting from the confusion into which the county had been thrown by the second appearance of the refugees.
"I do afer, on my faith, gentlemen," he said, wiping his brows, as he entered, "I had more trouple making you up than is goodt for nothing. As for that Jake Sheeps fat run afay, I fill commit him, the fillain."
"Ay, Squire, when you catch him," said one of the party, who, although as coarse in appearance as the others, (all being, save himself, ordinary farmers and ignoramuses, such as could be picked up in a hurry,) but who soon proved himself possessed of more brain than all the others together,—"when you catch him, Squire. But harkee, Schlachtenschlager; concerning this forcingmeon a jury of inquest,—'tis a sort of a breach of privilege. As an attorney at law, I should be considered exempt; for if there's no statute for exemption, why there's custom, my old boy, and I'll mulct you in damages. Botheration, Squire, you should know enough law to steer clear of a lawyer."
"T'at for your law!" said the magistrate, "and your lawyer too: I knows my pusiness. And if you grumples and calls me 'old poy,' it vill pe vorse for you; for old poy means the tyfel, and if you calls me tyfel, mine friend Affidafy"——
"Tush," said the lawyer, "it means no such thing. But as you have nabbed me, why make haste with this stupid business, and be done. Look at the body, guess your guess out, and let me be gone."
"'He vich is vise,'"—
"'He vich is vise,'"—
muttered the justice; but was interrupted by Mr. Affidavy crying, bluffly,
"The devil take your verses. Come, let's to business. Now, Squire, you 'know your business,'—you never, I reckon, held an inquest before in your life;—how do you begin?"
"How do I pegin?" said the official, scratching his head; "fy, I reckons, ve must have a talk apout it, and then say, the man vas murdtered."
"The deuce you must? Why that's prejudging the case altogether. How do you know the man was murdered? where's your witnesses?"
"Vitnesses!" said Schlachtenschlager; "fy, I reckons the case is clear enough mitout 'em."
"Ah, I thought you'd say so," cried the other; "but that won't do. Where's the murderer?"
"Vy, I committed him."
"Where's the prisoner, Dancy Parkins?"
"Vy, I committed him along mit the other."
"Where's the informant, that vagabond—(I reckon, he'll be a witness for the Commonwealth)—that stripe-coat fellow, Stirk—Stick,—no,—Sterling's his name?"
"Vy, I committed him, too."
"The devil you did? Well, where are the officers, the soldiers, the volunteers, and all the rest that were present?"
"Vy, chasing the refugees, to pe sure."
"Well, so I thought. Now, I'll tell you what you'll have to do: just send off as fast as you can for that fellow Sterling, and Dancy, and half a dozen others, and adjourn till they come; which will give me time to run down to the Traveller's Rest, and administer on old Elsie Bell's estate, or see what there is to administer on."
"Administer on old Elsie? fat the tyfel! is the old fitch teadt?"
"As dead as a herring," said Affidavy; "and there's another job for you. They say, some one told her, the defunct here, Colonel Falconer's son, was shot by young Gilbert; and the harridan screeched, and fell dead with fright."
"Mine soul!" said the justice, "they're all tying. There's the Captain's daughter here,—they say she's tying too. I vant to take her teposition; but Dr. Muller says she can n'ither speak nor hear."
"Well," said the attorney, "you see there's nothing to be done here at present. So, adjourn's the word, and down to hold an inquest on old Elsie. She has been looking up in the world lately, and they say she'll leave something. I intend therefore to administer, or see about it—and by the way, Squire, we may discover something there in relation to the murderer. He lived in her house; and, there's no doubt, the tories made it a place of rendezvous. We can come up here and finish afterwards."
"Fell, I don't know," said Schlachtenschlager; "it's all vone, except for the trouple of going and coming. But fere's Jake Musser?" he added, in sudden alarm; "I declare ve're not all here!—Fy, Jake, fere have you peen?" he continued, as the individual, whose absence he had just discovered, entered the apartment.
"Vy, at Elsie Pell's;—I stopped a moment to get a trink; but old Elsie vas sick, and the plack girl vas in a fear, and"——
"Sick!" cried Affidavy, "a'n't the old goose dead? 'Pshaw! why then we'll go on with the inquest, and say no more about it. I thought there was a job there for somebody; but, it seems, it is only for the doctor. Well, Squire, are you ready?"
"Yes," said the official; "but now, Mr. Affidafy, fat shall we do for witnesses?"
"Tush," said the man of law, "that's neither here nor there."
"Fy, you said, it wouldn't do mitout 'em!"
"Oh, that's according to circumstances, and here we have circumstances enough to hang the whole county."
"Fell, then," said the magistrate, "we'll pring it in a case of murder. Are you all agreedt? Fat says you, Peter Pork?"
"Why, I dunna," said Peter, "but I reckon so."
"Fat says you, Thomas Pork?"
"Why, I dunna; but I go with Peter."
"Fat says you, Jacob Musser?"
"Fy, the same: but I reckon the Captain mought send us up something to dtrink.—It's a very pretty pody."
"Never mind the pody, Jacob. Fat says you, Jack Darpy?"
"Why, I'm no so clear in the matter;—I'm ag'in' all hanging."
"Fy, that's none on your pusiness," said the magistrate, assuming an air of dignity; "for you see, John, the coroner's jury is not the hanging jury."
"Well, Squire," said the nonconformist, "I reckon I know that as well as any body. But, you see, I've had a talk with the quakers on this matter, and I'm coming to think it's ag'in' the law of scriptur' to bring a man to the gallows. And you see, the matter all rests on our shoulders; for if we say murder for our 'quest, why then the grand jury sings the same song for their indictment, and the petty jury just follows suit. It's just like sticking three bricks on an end; if you kick one, why down goes the second, and clack goes t'other. And moresomover, what Squire Affidavy says I stick to: I don't know the man's murdered, not an iota, without some one to swear on black and white."
"Fy, take a look at him, John," said the Squire in a heat; "he's deadt, a'n't he? and he has a pig hole in his neck, ha'n't he? and fat more fould you haff? You're always preeding trouble, John Darpy!"
"Well, I dunna," said John; "the man mought ha' shot himself; for they say he was a peeler at the bottle, for such a young un; and when folks drinks, there's no saying what'll come of it: it's just as much as saying, 'Clear the course, here goes for the devil!—Squire Affidavy, what do you say to that?"
"Hem"—replied the man of law, looking at his elbows, which were somewhat of the whitest, with an attempt at humour, that faded in a moment before a look of sullenness and anger, "I say, that you're a fool, though you stumble upon wisdom now and then by accident. But none of your sly winks and blinks: we all know you have not brain enough for drinking. But stop; we've carried this joke far enough, and the fun is over. Send down stairs for the girl Phoebe Jones: she was on the ground when the shot was fired, and we must take her testimony."
"Fy, now I remember, so she fas," muttered the magistrate; but added, with a sigh like the sough of north-wester, "Put it is a great trouple to swear a voman."
The testimony of Phoebe was, however, by no means so satisfactory as was expected. It is true, she professed herself able to swear that Mr. Hunter Hiram Gilbert shot Mr. Falconer; but it soon appeared she was as ready to swear he had shot herself, and some dozen other unfortunate persons into the bargain. In truth, the dreadful conclusion of an adventure which she had been brought, at one moment, almost to consider an innocent and agreeable frolic,—the condition of her mistress, from whose bed-side she had been summoned,—and the spectacle of the ghastly corse of the bridegroom before her eyes, more than half turned her brain. She answered therefore by yea and nay, and just as the question indicated the reply; until Mr. Affidavy, a man of some little tact in his profession, although low and debauched habits had ruined his prospects and reputation together, thought fit to interfere, and by a little management, made it obvious, even to the dull brain of Schlachtenschlager, that the girl, although an actor in the tragedy, knew no more of its details from her own observation, than they themselves.
They were relieved from their dilemma, however, by the sudden appearance of lieutenant Brooks, who delivered a brief and clear account of the catastrophe, as far as he had witnessed it himself; and his testimony left it no longer to be doubted that the unfortunate defunct had fallen in consequence of a pistol-shot fired from a weapon in the hands of Hyland Gilbert. He produced the instrument, which, as well as the pistol discharged by the deceased, he had picked from the ground, and now delivered, along with their fellows, and a pair taken from Sterling, to the magistrate, averring that they were in the condition in which he had found them.
"A very pretty pistol," said the official; "but how is this Mr. Lieutenant? did the young fellow fire them all?"
The soldier stared his honour in the face, and smiled; but his eye fell on the body of his friend, and the flash of humour faded into clouds.
"This weapon," said he, touching one, "I presume to be that by which Mr. Falconer was slain. It was picked from the ground by Mr. Gilbert's side; the fellow to it, was found in the holsters attached to Gilbert's saddle. This," he added, pointing to another, "belonged to my unfortunate friend, and was that with which he shot at the prisoner."
"Fat!" cried the official, "didheshoot, too?"
"Undoubtedly: I plainly distinguished two explosions, the one immediately after the other."
"Fy then, mine Gott!" said Schlachtenschlager, looking round upon his assistants with an air of unutterable sagacity, "this, mine friends, does ferry much alter the case. It vas not murder, but a fight. Who fires the pistol first?"
"Sir, that is impossible to say. But allow me to suggest a doubt whether that is necessary to be inquired into. With deference, I should suppose the object of this inquest would be simply to determine who shot the pistol that killed the deceased; leaving all other questions to be determined by other tribunals."
"'Pshaw!" said Affidavy, who seemed to derive no little private amusement from the ignorance of the magistrate, when suffered to run its own course; "you have spoiled the sport. The young gentleman is, however, right, Squire, and"—
"Holdt your tongue, Mr. Affidafy, and let me mindt mine own pusiness," said the magistrate, in some wrath; "sure I know fat I am about! And hark ye, Mr. Witness, you are a very goodt young man, and an officer, and a gentleman; put you must not tell me fat I am to do, nor fat I am not to do."
"Surely not," replied the witness; "I will not be so presumptuous."
"Right; you are a very goodt young man, and an officer, and a gentleman; and you have very goodt sense.—Fat do you think I must say in this case? for, mine Gott, it puzzles me! Mine own opinion is, that somepody shot this young man."
"It cannot be doubted, sir."
"And that that somepody fas him fat shot the pistol fat fasnotshot by the young man fat fas shot."
"Very true, sir."
"Ferry fell, sir," continued the official, with dignity; "now show me the man, and you shall hear fat I have to say for mine inquest in no time."
"The man you speak of is by this time lodged in the county prison under a warrant issued by yourself. There were two pistols discharged, one by the deceased, the other, as I can swear to the best of my belief, by the prisoner; and I can bear witness in like manner, that my unfortunate friend owes his death to the pistol discharged by the prisoner."
"Fy then, the case is clear enough, and I vonder you couldn't say so much before. Do you swear to all this?"
"I do."
"Fell now, come;—fat fas the reason of all this running afay, and murdering?"
"That, I beg leave to suggest, is a question entirely irrelevant."
"Is it? Fell then, fy don't you answer it?"
"'Pshaw!" mumbled Affidavy, who was perhaps wearying of a sport he did not himself direct. "Squire, you may discharge the witness: we have laid our heads together and agreed upon a finding."
"Fat! mitout me?"
"Certainly. You don't thinkyouare to make the verdict?—The witness will be pleased to retire," he added, and the lieutenant, looking once more on the dead, immediately withdrew.
"We find, Squire," the attorney went on, "that the deceased came to his death in consequence of a pistol-bullet shot into his neck by Hyland Gilbert, otherwise called Herman Hunter. If you want to be learned about jugulars, carotids, parotids, and so on, we will call in Dr. Muller, and have him examine the wound."
"Fy, I don't know any thing about them things; put I don't see that you say any thing apout murder?"
"Not a word: as you said yourself to Jack Darby here, the coroner's jury is not the hanging jury."
"Fell now, the matter's finished, and I am ferry glad. I suppose it is all right?"
"Entirely—the young Hawk is as dead as a chicken."
"It is a clear case then, Mr. Affidafy," said the dignitary, with a long and tempestuous breath, indicating the satisfaction he felt at being released from labours so overpowering, "they fill hang the young fillain?"
"Why that depends upon circumstances, Squire."
"Oh the tyfel! it is all 'upon circumstances' mit a lawyer?"
"It is a good case on either side," said Affidavy; "and not so bad on the prisoner's as might be supposed,—that is, if he had but money to make it an object to take up his cause."
"Mine Gott, he has money! There fas his fatch; 'twas goldt, and worth forty pound."
"Eh! indeed? has he a gold watch?"
"And there fas a purse of guineas"——
"Of guineas!"
"And there fas a—fat you call it?—a pill of exchange on New York, and a letter of credit,—mine Gott, it fas mitout limit, except time; put I toubt me, it fas not goodt."
"Botheration!" cried the man of law, in a fervour, "who'll lend me a horse to ride to town? I remember now, there was a story that the youngest son of the Gilberts had a rich aunt in Jamaica."
"Fell, if he had?"
"Why then, I'll certainly volunteer him the aid of my professional skill; and, murder or no murder, I'll bring him off."
"You don't say so, Mr. Affidavy?"
"Botheration, I do. A letter of credit without limit? Who has it? did you save it?"
"No; I gave it pack to him; put I took an inventory of all in his pockets."
"Well, Squire, you're an honour to the profession. Lend me a horse."
"Fy, if I had you put down to the Creen Tree, and you fould promise to keep soper"——
"Tush, I will. But let's be off, and in a hurry. You are a merciful man, Squire Schlachtenschlager—It is a pity this poor friendless young fellow should be hanged for nothing."
"That is, mitout paying nothing to the lawyer? Ho, ho!——Put it toesn't do to laugh by a teadt pody, fen his fader, and moder, and all his friends is feeping and crying. Fat is to pe done mit these Hawks? Can't nopody catch pig Oran? I fill give one pound of mine own money for refard; for, I do afer, he toes give me much trouple. Fell, gentlemen, all is right. Now fill ve all go to the Creen Tree, and ve shall have some prandy to dtrink. Fere is some pody to light mine pipe? A fery padt piece of pusiness, and fery pottersome. I vonder fere they fill pury the young man? Fell, gentlemen, let us pegone."
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: itwillrain, 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:
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, sayshemade 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.
THE RHEINWEINLIED.
"Bravo! bravissimo! bravississimo!" cried Affidavy. "Here's to you, you dogs—'Ihr Herren Zecher!' And now formyparaphrase. 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 followingrifacimentoof 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.
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:
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!'
'The right Rhine wine!'
and the others obeying the invitation, again opened their lips, and chantedBekränzt 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.
If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy likeness: if thou beest a devil, take 't as thou list.
TEMPEST.
The violence of the storm was over, but the ferment in the elements was not yet allayed. The clouds had broken, and ever and anon, through their ragged gaps, the eye might trace fields of blue sky, studded with stars, which were as suddenly swept out of sight, as gusts came roaring from the tops of distant hills, discharging brief but furious showers.
On such occasions, it was not easy to pick a way along the road, which was washed into gullies and scattered over with the riven branches of trees, besides being, in the hollow places, converted into pools; so that it might have been considered difficult to proceed, even by the light of day.
It was fortunate, perhaps, for Affidavy, that he was in no condition to be daunted, either by difficulties or dangers, of which, indeed, it is most probable he remained profoundly unconscious, from the beginning of his ride to the end. He set forth on his dark journey, trolling at the top of his voice some snatches of the jolly chorus, in which he had borne no mean part, and plying his heels about the ribs of his horse in such a way as to drum out a kind of barrel-head accompaniment, as agreeable to himself as it was perhaps advantageous to the animal;—for this, instead of being Schlachtenschlager's best horse, as he had said, was a drowsy, lazy, pacific, and somewhat worthless beast, which the Squire's man, supposing that any one might serve the lawyer's turn on such an occasion, had considerately substituted for the better one which his master really designed to provide. On this animal, then, Affidavy departed, bidding defiance to storm and peril, and singing as he went. Sometimes, however, he launched into harangues, as if declaiming before a court and jury, especially when, as was sometimes the case, the beast he bestrode took advantage of his abstraction, to pause before some gully or pool of water, and even, now and then, to stand stock-still in the middle of the road, where there was no obstruction whatever. Nay, he once or twice, relying upon the indifference of his rider, took the liberty of turning his head, and jogging backwards; and how the manoeuvre was detected and counteracted by one in Affidavy's happy condition, we are wholly unable to say. But counteracted it was, and by midnight,—that is to say, after a ride of three hours, the attorney found that his steed had borne him the full distance of two and a half miles from his master's house; at which rate of travel, it was quite evident, he might expect to reach the village, perhaps three or four miles further, some time before noon of the following day. At midnight, however, the horse was brought to a stand by an unforeseen difficulty. It was in a hollow place or glen, thickly wooded, that was crossed by the road at right angles; at the bottom of it flowed a water-course, small and shallow on all ordinary occasions, but which the violent rains, assisted by certain accidental obstructions, had now swelled into a broad and formidable pool. The trunks and branches of trees, swept down by the earlier wash of the flood, and lodged among rocks and the standing stems of other trees on the lower side of the road, had made a sort of dam, through which the waters could not escape so rapidly as they collected; and, in consequence, they had swelled so high, as to be already heard falling over it like a cataract.
When Affidavy arrived at the brink of this flood, his steed came to a sudden halt, of which the rider took no notice for a considerable time, his mind being wrapped up in the remembrance of the joyous potations from which nothing on earth, save the prospect of a good case, could have drawn him, and his ears still tingling with the uproar of the Rheinweinlied. This he trolled over with great fervour, and in the midst of it, plying his heels as usual, the horse, after one or two snorts by way of remonstrance, took heart of grace, and crept into the water.
"Botheration," cried the attorney, as he felt the cold element sweeping over his legs, "will it never have done raining? H—h—hip, Durgan.—Gentlemen of the jury, I appeal, not to your hearts, for I disdain taking advantage of,—of your weakness,—nor to your heads, for—for—who the devil ever supposed a juryman had one?—Botheration, it rains cats and dogs all round, and my legs are growing marvellous cold. That old Schlachtenschlager! he, he! a great old ass, and his Nierensteiner nothing but sour old crab-cider.—A gold watch worth forty pounds,—a purse of guineas—bills of exchange—long credits.—Dispute the jurisdiction of the court—Hillo! what's all that smashing in the court? I insist upon order—Who says I am out of order? Drunk! I despise the thing! Hillo, Schlachtenschlager! what's the matter? Never mind the rain—strike up: let it blow its worst,—strike up, old boy.
Botheration!"——
In the midst of the attorney's song, and just when he had reached the middle of the pool, there happened a catastrophe, which might have frightened any other man out of his propriety. This was nothing less than the sudden giving way of the dam of logs, the disruption of which was followed by the escape of the whole accumulated body of waters, and that with a fury that nothing could resist. In an instant the attorney was swept from his horse, soused head over ears in the flood, and would have been drowned had he not been luckily dashed into the crotch of a low and twisted buttonwood, and there left astride a horizontal bough, by the retreating waters. The whole thing was effected in a trice, indeed with such magical celerity, that he failed to notice the main point of the casualty, which was the loss of his horse; and supposing himself still at ease in the saddle, he plied his heels with their accustomed vigour against the regardless trunk, wondering somewhat at the immobility of his charger, and the rush of the current at his feet.
"Botheration," he cried; "hip, Durgan, get up; dzick! dzick! That's a fine fellow! Will it never be done raining?
Hip, horsey, hip!" And thus he went on, now spurring the timber flanks of his charger, and now trolling forth the drunken chorus, in the midst of the stream, where he would perhaps have remained until morning, or until sleep had caused him to relax his hold, had not his extraordinary outcries reached the ears of a traveller, who rode to his assistance, the water being already reduced to its ordinary level, and finding him incapable of helping himself, pulled him from his seat, and dragged him to the other side of the stream.
"Botheration, what's the matter?" cried the attorney, who seemed to recover his senses a little, upon finding himself on his feet; "where's Durgan? Sure, o' my life, I did'nt come here on foot! Odds bodikins! where's Schlachtenschlager?—Hillo, there! botheration, you sir! what are you doing with my horse?"
"Yourhorse!" exclaimed the traveller. "Are you drunk yet?"
"Drunk! I defy the insinuation," cried Affidavy, "and demand protection of the court.—Down, you rogue, or I'll indict you for horse-thieving. A pretty prank to play upon an honest man, riding for life and death! Botheration, Sir Sauce-box, whoever you are, give me my horse, or I shall lose the best case was ever entrusted to a lawyer—a gold watch worth forty pounds—bills of exchange—letters of credit—and a purse of guineas!"
"Now were you not drunk," said the traveller, "and more of a beast than the animal that bore you, I could tell you of a case much more to your interest to be engaged in."
"Hah! a case? what sort of a case? Odds bodikins, I'm your man!"
"You are drunken Tef Affidavy?"
"Drunken! That's actionable. Tef!TefAffidavy! Theophilus Affidavy, Esq.—Esquire, do you hear?"
"Ay, it is all one. Theophilus Affidavy, sober, might be the man for my money, with twenty guineas to begin upon; but Theophilus Affidavy, drunk"—
"Twenty guineas!" cried the lawyer: "God bless all our souls! twenty guineas for a retaining fee! Why then I'll be Theophilus Affidavy, sober, or Tef Affidavy, drunk, or any thing else that can be wished of man or angel. Out with your money, and state the case."
"Ay,—when you are sober."
"Sober! Twenty guineas would fetch me to, if I had been swimming in Schlachtenschlager's whiskey-barrel for two weeks on a stretch. Botheration, I'll take another dip in the slough there, and come out as clean as a peeled orange. But are you sure that a'n't my horse?"
"Quite; and if your beast belongs to the Squire, you may make your mind easy that he is now safe in his master's stables. I saw a saddled horse on the road, galloping as if a wild-cat was on the back of him."
"Good!" cried the attorney at law; "if I had drowned him, there would have been the devil to pay with old Schlachtenschlager. Hold fast, till I duck the devil out of me." And without waiting to say another word, he ran into the brook, where he began to splash about him with great spirit, the stranger, all the time, sitting by and observing him in silence.
There is, in all cases of drunkenness, a certain degree of voluntary intoxication, as it may be called, in which the mind yields itself a prisoner, before it is entirely overcome by the strength of the enemy. This is evinced by the rapidity with which many good souls, in jovial company, work themselves into frenzy; but still more by the facility with which they shake it off, when there is any special call for sobriety. In half the instances, even where the conduct is most extravagant, the individual retains a consciousness, more or less perfect, of his absurd acts, is aware that they proceed from a madness partly simulated, and sensible of some power in himself of controlling them, though not easily disposed to the labour of exercising it. We will not pretend to say that Mr. Affidavy, while he sat bestraddling the sycamore, was altogether conscious of his situation; but it is quite certain, he retained so much power of curing his folly, even in that extremity, that a less counter stimulus than the offer of a twenty-guinea fee would have sufficed to bring him to his senses. He frisked about in the water for a few minutes, dipped his head under two or three times, and came out, not entirely sober indeed, but, as he said himself, 'as fit for business as he ever was.'
"If you doubt, stranger, whoever you are," he said, "I'll sing you a song, or—No, hang it, we've had enough ofthat,—I'll make you a speech to court and jury extempore, and right to the point. But come now, jingle your money, and let's begin: or, if it's all one to you, we'll jog back to Schlachtenschlager's and borrow a dry shirt, and so give counsel like a gentleman."
To this proposal the traveller demurred, and requesting the lawyer to follow him, rode up to the brow of the hill, where he dismounted, and suffered his horse to range at will through the bushes, he himself taking a seat on a stone, and inviting Affidavy to do the same.
"A botheration strange fancy this, of yours, certainly," said the lawyer: "are we to sit here, like two stray ducks, and be soaked for nothing?"
"Look over your head," said the stranger: "there is not a cloud left in the heaven. No, not one," he muttered as if to himself; "and come weal or wo, come death or come life, the sun will shine to-morrow as bright as ever."
"Tush, you're right; the storm has given us the go-by," said the lawyer. "But concerning the case, and that twenty-guinea fee——What's your name?"
"Guineas," said the other, rattling a purse apparently well filled with his namesakes, upon the stone.
"Excellent!" said the lawyer; "but that won't do for a jury. Come, sir, your cognomination, compellation, and so forth? yourproprium vocamen, style and title,—Tom, Dick, or Harry, as the case may be? and then forthecase!Quisnam homo est? unde et quo?No man is drunk who can quote Latin, for it is cursed hard stuff to remember. In the king's lingo, who are you? and what's the case in question?"
"Who I am, we will pass," said the traveller, "that having nothing to do with the case. As for the case itself, I am told, it is one of murder."
"The devil it is!" cried Affidavy. "Why here's hanging work thickening in the county! But what are the circumstances? Who's killed? and who is the killer?"
"The first was a young man, named Henry Falconer,—the second another young man, called Hyland Gilbert"——
"Hah! why, that'smycase, that I've been labouring after all night! and I assure you——But God bless our two souls!" he added suddenly, springing to his feet as if in alarm, "who areyousir? An honest man, sir? I hope, an honest man, sir, and no bloody-minded Hawk, sir! for if you are, sir, I give you warning, sir, if you make an attack upon me, sir, that I carry pistols, sir, and, sir"——
"Peace, fool," said the other, with a stern voice. "Sit down, and fear nothing. If you had twenty pistols, what care I for them?—I," he added, with a laugh both jocose and bitter, "that am armed with twenty—guineas?"
"Right, sir; but if you are a tory, sir—I don't mean to insult you, sir,—but as to aiding and abetting a gentleman of the tory party, sir: why, sir, I am a man of principle, sir, and I must have time to reflect."
"Go to the brook and wallow again: you shall have five minutes to reflect, or rather to sober, for you are not yet in your senses. Why, fool, do you think I will hurt you? or hark! is there a tory bullet in the clink of an English guinea? Come, sit down, and listen. You have nothing to do with tories, save to take their money.—There is one lying in prison in yonder village below, who needs the help of a lawyer. Yourself then, Affidavy, or another."
"Oh, if there be no treason in the matter," said the attorney, "why then——that is, if you will take that cursed tomahawk away, for I dare say you've got one about you, Mr.——that is to say, captain——Zounds, Mr. Oran Gilbert! I know you very well; and I hope you won't murder me, or do me any mischief, if it were even for old times' sake; for we were very good friends in old times."
"Ay," said the refugee; "and for that reason, I have offered you twenty guineas, and employment on a business that may bring you as many—perhaps five times as many more, which any one else will be as happy to accept."
"Botheration, there is no occasion," said Affidavy, creeping timorously back. "I see what it is; I'm not afraid of you, but you have a cursed bad name. I don't agree with you in principles, that is, in politics; but it sha'nt be said, I refused my professional services to an old friend in distress"——
"With twenty guineas in his hand," said the tory.
"Ay; and with as many, or five times as many at the back of them"——
"In case of success."
"Oh, yes, certainly. I understand the case now: your brother, captain"——
"We will drop all titles,—brother, captain, and every one else," said the tory. "The young man, Hyland Gilbert, is a prisoner."
"Ay; and"——
"Was he hurt?"
"A bruise or so."
"And he shot Henry Falconer?"
"As dead as a herring: I sat on the body myself."
"And he will be tried for that, as for a murder?"
"Ay, faith, and hanged too, unless"——
"Unlesswhat?"
"Unless we can prove him innocent, or establish a legal irresponsibility."
"Or snatch him out of his den, some such bright midnight as this?"
"Tush," said the lawyer, waxing in courage, "I have nothing to do with that. But cheer up. There's a way of managing these cases, and I have thought of it already. But concerning that bill of exchange and letter of credit? They say, the younker has money enough—a rich estate in the Islands?"
"Fear not for your reward," said Oran Gilbert. "Do what's expected of you, and you shall have gold enough to content you."
"Here then is the state of the case," said Affidavy: "if the young man be tried in this county, were it but for killing a farmer's dog, he will die. The name—saving your presence—the name of Gilbert will be hanging matter with any jury. But I'll be short—he bears the king's commission, does he not? the commission of a lieutenant among the royal refugees?"
"And what then?"? said Oran.
"Why then, he must dispute the jurisdiction of the civil tribunal, and claim to be considered a prisoner of war. The attack upon the Folly is somewhat of a civil offence, to be sure; but he was taken, as we may say, in battle; and, in battle, he killed the man for whose murder he will be certainly arraigned, if proceedings are not quashed in the beginning. As a commissioned officer of the crown, however"——
"And what if he benota commissioned officer," said the refugee, with a low voice.
"Why then," replied Affidavy, "I have to say, gentlemen of the jury——Pshaw! that is,—hemp seed and a white shirt—you understand me? But with the commission—we will produce that, and then"——
"You shall have it," said the refugee; but added,—"It will do no good. A court civil or a court martial,—how should a Gilbert look for mercy from either? What turn would the king's commission serveme, if a prisoner? Look you, Affidavy, there are better ways of ending the matter. An hundred guineas are clinking in the bag these came from: it is but the opening of a jail-door to earn it."
"Ay! are you there, Truepenny?—Sir, I'm a lawyer and a gentleman; and as to aiding and abetting in any jail-breaking—zounds, sir! for what do you take me?"
"For a wiser man than you would have your neighbours believe,—for a mantoowise to boggle long at a choice betwixt a hundred guineas held in comfort at home, and empty pockets, with hands and heels tied together, in a cave of the mountains."
"God bless our two souls," said Affidavy, "what do you mean?"
"To have your help, or take good care no one else has it," said Oran, laughing. Then, laying his hand upon the lawyer's arm, he added, with the same untimely accompaniment to accents full of sternness, "Look ye, Affidavy, you have heard too much for your own comfort, unless you are ready to hear all. You are a friend, or—a prisoner."
At these words, the lawyer was filled with dismay, and indeed struck dumb. The terror that beset him, when he first conceived with whom he was confronted on the dark and lonely hill, recurred with double violence; he thought of nothing less than being tomahawked and scalped on the spot, and would have taken to his heels without further ceremony, had his strength availed him to shake off the grasp of his companion.
"Fear naught," said Oran, detaining him on his seat, and speaking decisively: "We were old friends once, as you say, Affidavy: I remember, you robbed Elsie Bell's strawberry-patch, when you were a boy, and I thumped you for it. So, fear nothing.—Why, man, am I a snake, or a beast, that I should hurt such a creature asyou?Know me better."
"Well, I will," said the attorney, still trembling. "But, botheration, sir, this is a strange way of stating a case to a lawyer! As to opening jail-doors, Mr. Oran Gilbert, why I won't oppose: if you were to bribe Bob Lingo, the jailer, why, I say, I'm mum. But what more can you expect? Botheration, sir, I'm no turnkey! I'll be mum, sir; but as to joining you in any such prank, God bless our two souls, why that would ruin me! And why should you think of such a thing? 'Tis needless, sir,—as needless as dangerous. The king's commission is our pillar of safety: with that in his hand, the prisoner can demand, ay, and force his claim to be admitted, to be treated as a prisoner of war; and then, sir, if the matter comes to a court-martial"——
"When it comes to that," said Oran, "what is to save him from being tried and condemned as a spy?"
"What?" said the lawyer; "why a very simple thing. We will hire some one to swear he did not receive the commission until after his flight from Hawk-Hollow: and as for the change of name, intentions, and all that, why we shall have time to coin any lies that may serve our purpose. As to treason, we escape all arraignment there, his domicile being clearly within a foreign jurisdiction."
"In a word," said Oran Gilbert, "and to end your scheme at once, he isnota commissioned officer. Fool that he was," continued the brother, bitterly, "he refused, and to the last, the warrant that would have been his best friend."
"Whew!" said Affidavy, "this alters the case with a vengeance. Refused the commission?"
"Ay; and it is now in my own hands."
"Oho, is it? Why then, all's one. We'll clap it into his hands,—fill up the blanks, if it needs, produce it in court, and who is the wiser?
"You can, at least, try him with it," said the refugee; "but I know what it will end in. You will see him refuse it, even in prison."
"Why then," said Affidavy,—"Hum, ha—we won't be particular. Jail-doorswillopen sometimes; and in case of an hundred guineas down on the nail—(a dangerous business, captain!)—and something more in prospect—(you understand, captain?)—Reputation, captain, reputation! 'T may bring me by the heels, captain.—Another hundred therefore, (say, to be paid at New York; for I don't care if I turn tory along with you, provided I am not set to fighting:) an hundred on the nail, and another at York city, and I don't care if I close with you. And then, we must have fifty or so for Bob Lingo; (no managing such an affair without money.) A deused dull county this, and business all worn out. So, captain, an hundred on the nail, and"——
"It is enough," said the refugee; "you talk now like a man of sense; and here are the twenty for earnest. Let us proceed; I have more to tell you."
Then rising, and whistling to his horse, which obeyed the summons, and followed him with great docility, he led the way with Affidavy along the road, exchanging counsels with this precious limb of the law, on the subject that had drawn him so near to the head quarters of his foes.