added Essper George; “you forget the best part of the burden, my honest friend.”
“Oh!” said the porter, with an arch smile, as he opened the lodge door; “I am glad to find that your honourable Excellencies have a taste for hymns!”
The porter led them into a room, at a round table in which about half-a-dozen individuals were busily engaged in discussing the merits of various agreeable liquors. There was an attempt to get up a show of polite hospitality to Vivian as he entered, but the man who offered him his chair fell to the ground in an unsuccessful struggle to be courteous; and another one, who had filled a large glass for the guest on his entrance, offered him, after a preliminary speech of incoherent compliments, the empty bottle by mistake. The porter and his friends, although they were all drunk, had sense enough to feel that the presence of a Prince of the Holy Roman Empire, a Chevalier of the Golden Fleece, and the particular friend of their master, was not exactly a fit companion for themselves, and was rather a check on the gay freedom of equal companionship; and so, although the exertion was not a little troublesome, the guardian of the gate reeled out of the room to inform his honoured lord of the sudden arrival of a stranger of distinction, Essper George immediately took his place, and ere the master of the lodge had returned the noble secretary had not only given a choice toast, sung a choice song, and been hailed by the grateful plaudits of all present, but had proceeded in his attempt to fulfil the pledge which he had given at the gate to the very letter by calling out lustily for a bottle of Geisenheim, lemons, brandy, and a bowl.
“Fairly and softly, my little son of Bacchus,” said the porter as he re-entered, “fairly and softly, and then thou shalt want nothing; but remember I have to perform my duties unto the noble Lord my master, and also to the noble Prince your master. If thou wilt follow me,” continued the porter, reeling as he bowed with the greatest consideration to Vivian; “if thou wilt follow me, most high and mighty sir, my master will be right glad to have the honour of drinking your health. And as for you, my friends, fairly and softly say I again. We will talk of the Geisenheim anon. Am I to be absent from the first brewing? No, no! fairly and softly; you can drink my health when I am absent in cold liquor, and say those things which you could not well say before my face. But mind, my most righteous and well-beloved, I will have no flattery. Flattery is the destruction of all good fellowship; it is like a qualmish liqueur in the midst of a bottle of wine. Speak your minds, say any little thing that comes first, as thus, ‘Well, for Hunsdrich, the porter, I must declare that I never heard evil word against him;’ or thus, ‘A very good leg has Hunsdrich the porter, and a tight-made lad altogether; no enemy with the girls, I warrant me;’ or thus, ‘Well, for a good-hearted, good-looking, stout-drinking, virtuous, honourable, handsome, generous, sharp-witted knave, commend me to Hunsdrich the porter;’ but not a word more, my friends, not a word more, no flattery—Now, sir, I beg your pardon.”
The porter led the way through a cloistered walk, until they arrived at the door of the great mansion, to which they ascended by a lofty flight of steps; it opened into a large octagonal hail, the sides of which were covered with fowling-pieces, stags’ heads, couteaux de chasse, boar-spears, and huge fishing-nets. Passing through this hall, they ascended a noble stair-case, on the first landing-place of which was a door, which Vivian’s conductor opened, and ushering him into a large and well-lighted chamber, withdrew. From the centre of this room descended a magnificently cut chandelier, which threw a graceful light upon a sumptuous banquet table, at which were seated eight very singular-looking personages. All of them wore hunting-dresses of various shades of straw-coloured cloth, with the exception of one, who sat on the left hand of the master of the feast, and the colour of whose costume was a rich crimson purple. From the top to the bottom of the table extended a double file of wine-glasses and goblets, of all sizes and all colours. There you might see brilliant relics of that ancient ruby-glass the vivid tints of which seem lost to us for ever. Next to these were marshalled goblets of Venetian manufacture, of a cloudy, creamy white; then came the huge hock glass of some ancient Primate of Mentz, nearly a yard high, towering above its companions, as the church, its former master, predominated over the simple laymen of the middle ages. Why should we forget a set of most curious and antique drinking-cups of painted glass, on whose rare surfaces were emblazoned the Kaiser and ten electors of the old Empire?
Vivian bowed to the party and stood in silence, while they stared a scrutinising examination. At length the master of the feast spoke. He was a very stout man, with a prodigious paunch, which his tightened dress set off to great advantage. His face, and particularly his forehead, were of great breadth. His eyes were set far apart. His long ears hung down almost to his shoulders; yet singular as he was, not only in these, but in many other respects, everything was forgotten when your eyes lighted on his nose. It was the most prodigious nose that Vivian ever remembered not only seeing, but hearing or even reading of. It fact, it was too monstrous for a dream. This mighty nose seemed to hang almost to its owner’s chest.
“Be seated,” said this personage, in no unpleasing voice, and he pointed to the chair opposite to him. Vivian took the vacated seat of the Vice-President, who moved himself to the right. “Be seated, and whoever you may be, welcome! If our words be few, think not that our welcome is scant. We are not much given to speech, holding it for a principle that if a man’s mouth be open, it should be for the purpose of receiving that which cheers a man’s spirit; not of giving vent to idle words, which, so far as we have observed, produce no other effect save filling the world with crude and unprofitable fantasies, and distracting our attention when we are on the point of catching those flavours which alone make the world endurable. Therefore, briefly, but heartily, welcome! Welcome, Sir Stranger, from us, and from all: and first from us, the Grand Duke of Johannisberger.” Here his Highness rose, and pulled out a large ruby tumbler from the file. Each of those present did the same, without, however, rising, and the late Vice-President, who sat next to Vivian, invited him to follow their example.
The Grand Duke of Johannisberger brought forward, from beneath the table, an ancient and exquisite bottle of that choice liquor from which he took his exhilarating title. The cork was drawn, and the bottle circulated with rapidity; and in three minutes the ruby glasses were filled and emptied, and the Grand Duke’s health quaffed by all present.
“Again, Sir Stranger,” continued the Grand Duke, “briefly, but heartily, welcome! welcome from us and welcome from all; and first from us, and now from the Archduke of Hockheimer!”
The Archduke of Hockheimer was a thin, sinewy man, with long, carroty hair, eyelashes of the same colour, but of a remarkable length; and mustachios, which, though very thin, were so long that they met under his chin. Vivian could not refrain from noticing the extreme length, whiteness, and apparent sharpness of his teeth. The Archduke did not speak, but, leaning under the table, soon produced a bottle of Hockheimer. He then took from the file one of the Venetian glasses of clouded white. All followed his example; the bottle was sent round, his health was pledged, and the Grand Duke of Johannisberger again spoke: