"But it is chance if he knows you," said the huntsman, "for he has
forgotten the name of every hound in the pack. I thought, about a week
since, he had gotten a favourable turn. 'Saddle me old Sorrel,' said he
suddenly, after he had taken his usual night-draught out of the great
silver grace-cup, 'and take the hounds to Mount Hazelhurst to-morrow.'
Glad men were we all, and out we had him in the morning, and he rode to
cover as usual, with never a word spoken but that the wind was south,
and the scent would lie. But ere we had uncoupled'the hounds, he began
to stare round him, like a man that wakes suddenly out of a dream - turns
bridle, and walks back to Hall again, and leaves us to hunt at leisure
by ourselves, if we listed."
"You tell a heavy tale, Will," replied Tressilian; "but God must help
us - there is no aid in man."
"Then you bring us no news of young Mistress Amy? But what need I
ask - your brow tells the story. Ever I hoped that if any man could or
would track her, it must be you. All's over and lost now. But if ever I
have that Varney within reach of a flight-shot, I will bestow a forked
shaft on him; and that I swear by salt and bread."
As he spoke, the door opened, and Master Mumblazen appeared - a withered,
thin, elderly gentleman, with a cheek like a winter apple, and his
grey hair partly concealed by a small, high hat, shaped like a cone,
or rather like such a strawberry-basket as London fruiterers exhibit at
their windows. He was too sententious a person to waste words on mere
salutation; so, having welcomed Tressilian with a nod and a shake of the
hand, he beckoned him to follow to Sir Hugh's great chamber, which the
good knight usually inhabited. Will Badger followed, unasked, anxious to
see whether his master would be relieved from his state of apathy by the
arrival of Tressilian.
In a long, low parlour, amply furnished with implements of the chase,
and with silvan trophies, by a massive stone chimney, over which hung
a sword and suit of armour somewhat obscured by neglect, sat Sir Hugh
Robsart of Lidcote, a man of large size, which had been only kept within
moderate compass by the constant use of violent exercise, It seemed to
Tressilian that the lethargy, under which his old friend appeared to
labour, had, even during his few weeks' absence, added bulk to his
person - at least it had obviously diminished the vivacity of his eye,
which, as they entered, first followed Master Mumblazen slowly to a
large oaken desk, on which a ponderous volume lay open, and then rested,
as if in uncertainty, on the stranger who had entered along with him.
The curate, a grey-headed clergyman, who had been a confessor in the
days of Queen Mary, sat with a book in his hand in another recess in the
apartment. He, too, signed a mournful greeting to Tressilian, and laid
his book aside, to watch the effect his appearance should produce on the
afflicted old man.
As Tressilian, his own eyes filling fast with tears, approached more
and more nearly to the father of his betrothed bride, Sir Hugh's
intelligence seemed to revive. He sighed heavily, as one who awakens
from a state of stupor; a slight convulsion passed over his features;
he opened his arms without speaking a word, and, as Tressilian threw
himself into them, he folded him to his bosom.
"There is something left to live for yet," were the first words he
uttered; and while he spoke, he gave vent to his feelings in a paroxysm
of weeping, the tears chasing each other down his sunburnt cheeks and
long white beard.
"I ne'er thought to have thanked God to see my master weep," said Will
Badger; "but now I do, though I am like to weep for company."
"I will ask thee no questions," said the old knight; "no
questions - none, Edmund. Thou hast not found her - or so found her, that
she were better lost."
Tressilian was unable to reply otherwise than by putting his hands
before his face.
"It is enough - it is enough. But do not thou weep for her, Edmund. I
have cause to weep, for she was my daughter; thou hast cause to rejoice,
that she did not become thy wife. - Great God! thou knowest best what is
good for us. It was my nightly prayer that I should see Amy and Edmund
wedded, - had it been granted, it had now been gall added to bitterness."
"Be comforted, my friend," said the curate, addressing Sir Hugh, "it
cannot be that the daughter of all our hopes and affections is the vile
creature you would bespeak her."
"Oh, no," replied Sir Hugh impatiently, "I were wrong to name broadly
the base thing she is become - there is some new court name for it, I
warrant me. It is honour enough for the daughter of an old Devonshire
clown to be the leman of a gay courtier - of Varney too - of Varney, whose
grandsire was relieved by my father, when his fortune was broken, at
the battle of - the battle of - where Richard was slain - out on my
memory! - and I warrant none of you will help me - "
"The battle of Bosworth," said Master Mumblazen - "stricken between
Richard Crookback and Henry Tudor, grandsire of the Queen that now is,
PRIMO HENRICI SEPTIMI; and in the year one thousand four hundred and
eighty-five, POST CHRISTUM NATUM."
"Ay, even so," said the old knight; "every child knows it. But my poor
head forgets all it should remember, and remembers only what it would
most willingly forget. My brain has been at fault, Tressilian, almost
ever since thou hast been away, and even yet it hunts counter."
"Your worship," said the good clergyman, "had better retire to your
apartment, and try to sleep for a little space. The physician left
a composing draught; and our Great Physician has commanded us to use
earthly means, that we may be strengthened to sustain the trials He
sends us."
"True, true, old friend," said Sir Hugh; "and we will bear our trials
manfully - we have lost but a woman. - See, Tressilian," - he drew from
his bosom a long ringlet of glossy hair, - "see this lock! I tell thee,
Edmund, the very night she disappeared, when she bid me good even, as
she was wont, she hung about my neck, and fondled me more than usual;
and I, like an old fool, held her by this lock, until she took her
scissors, severed it, and left it in my hand - as all I was ever to see
more of her!"
Tressilian was unable to reply, well judging what a complication of
feelings must have crossed the bosom of the unhappy fugitive at that
cruel moment. The clergyman was about to speak, but Sir Hugh interrupted
him.
"I know what you would say, Master Curate, - After all, it is but a lock
of woman's tresses; and by woman, shame, and sin, and death came into
an innocent world. - And learned Master Mumblazen, too, can say scholarly
things of their inferiority."
"C'EST L'HOMME," said Master Mumblazen, "QUI SE BAST, ET QUI CONSEILLE."
"True," said Sir Hugh, "and we will bear us, therefore, like men who
have both mettle and wisdom in us. - Tressilian, thou art as welcome
as if thou hadst brought better news. But we have spoken too long
dry-lipped. - Amy, fill a cup of wine to Edmund, and another to me." Then
instantly recollecting that he called upon her who could not hear,
he shook his head, and said to the clergyman, "This grief is to my
bewildered mind what the church of Lidcote is to our park: we may lose
ourselves among the briers and thickets for a little space, but from
the end of each avenue we see the old grey steeple and the grave of my
forefathers. I would I were to travel that road tomorrow!"
Tressilian and the curate joined in urging the exhausted old man to lay
himself to rest, and at length prevailed. Tressilian remained by his
pillow till he saw that slumber at length sunk down on him, and then
returned to consult with the curate what steps should be adopted in
these unhappy circumstances.
They could not exclude from these deliberations Master Michael
Mumblazen; and they admitted him the more readily, that besides what
hopes they entertained from his sagacity, they knew him to be so great
a friend to taciturnity, that there was no doubt of his keeping counsel.
He was an old bachelor, of good family, but small fortune, and distantly
related to the House of Robsart; in virtue of which connection, Lidcote
Hall had been honoured with his residence for the last twenty years. His
company was agreeable to Sir Hugh, chiefly on account of his profound
learning, which, though it only related to heraldry and genealogy, with
such scraps of history as connected themselves with these subjects,
was precisely of a kind to captivate the good old knight; besides the
convenience which he found in having a friend to appeal to when his
own memory, as frequently happened, proved infirm and played him false
concerning names and dates, which, and all similar deficiencies, Master
Michael Mumblazen supplied with due brevity and discretion. And,
indeed, in matters concerning the modern world, he often gave, in his
enigmatical and heraldic phrase, advice which was well worth attending
to, or, in Will Badger's language, started the game while others beat
the bush.
"We have had an unhappy time of it with the good knight, Master Edmund,"
said the curate. "I have not suffered so much since I was torn away from
my beloved flock, and compelled to abandon them to the Romish wolves."
"That was in TERTIO MARIAE," said Master Mumblazen.
"In the name of Heaven," continued the curate, "tell us, has your
time been better spent than ours, or have you any news of that
unhappy maiden, who, being for so many years the principal joy of this
broken-down house, is now proved our greatest unhappiness? Have you not
at least discovered her place of residence?"
"I have," replied Tressilian. "Know you Cumnor Place, near Oxford?"
"Surely," said the clergyman; "it was a house of removal for the monks
of Abingdon."
"Whose arms," said Master Michael, "I have seen over a stone chimney in
the hall, - a cross patonce betwixt four martlets."
"There," said Tressilian, "this unhappy maiden resides, in company with
the villain Varney. But for a strange mishap, my sword had revenged all
our injuries, as well as hers, on his worthless head."
"Thank God, that kept thine hand from blood-guiltiness, rash young man!"
answered the curate. "Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord, and I will
repay it. It were better study to free her from the villain's nets of
infamy."
"They are called, in heraldry, LAQUEI AMORIS, or LACS D'AMOUR," said
Mumblazen.
"It is in that I require your aid, my friends," said Tressilian. "I
am resolved to accuse this villain, at the very foot of the throne, of
falsehood, seduction, and breach of hospitable laws. The Queen shall
hear me, though the Earl of Leicester, the villain's patron, stood at
her right hand."
"Her Grace," said the curate, "hath set a comely example of continence
to her subjects, and will doubtless do justice on this inhospitable
robber. But wert thou not better apply to the Earl of Leicester, in the
first place, for justice on his servant? If he grants it, thou dost save
the risk of making thyself a powerful adversary, which will certainly
chance if, in the first instance, you accuse his master of the horse and
prime favourite before the Queen."
"My mind revolts from your counsel," said Tressilian. "I cannot brook
to plead my noble patron's cause the unhappy Amy's cause - before any one
save my lawful Sovereign. Leicester, thou wilt say, is noble. Be it so;
he is but a subject like ourselves, and I will not carry my plaint to
him, if I can do better. Still, I will think on what thou hast said; but
I must have your assistance to persuade the good Sir Hugh to make me his
commissioner and fiduciary in this matter, for it is in his name I must
speak, and not in my own. Since she is so far changed as to dote upon
this empty profligate courtier, he shall at least do her the justice
which is yet in his power."
"Better she died CAELEBS and SINE PROLE," said Mumblazen, with more
animation than he usually expressed, "than part, PER PALE, the noble
coat of Robsart with that of such a miscreant!"
"If it be your object, as I cannot question," said the clergyman, "to
save, as much as is yet possible, the credit of this unhappy young
woman, I repeat, you should apply, in the first instance, to the Earl
of Leicester. He is as absolute in his household as the Queen in her
kingdom, and if he expresses to Varney that such is his pleasure, her
honour will not stand so publicly committed."
"You are right, you are right!" said Tressilian eagerly, "and I thank
you for pointing out what I overlooked in my haste. I little thought
ever to have besought grace of Leicester; but I could kneel to the proud
Dudley, if doing so could remove one shade of shame from this unhappy
damsel. You will assist me then to procure the necessary powers from Sir
Hugh Robsart?"
The curate assured him of his assistance, and the herald nodded assent.
"You must hold yourselves also in readiness to testify, in case you are
called upon, the openhearted hospitality which our good patron exercised
towards this deceitful traitor, and the solicitude with which he
laboured to seduce his unhappy daughter."
"At first," said the clergyman, "she did not, as it seemed to me, much
affect his company; but latterly I saw them often together."
"SEIANT in the parlour," said Michael Mumblazen, "and PASSANT in the
garden."
"I once came on them by chance," said the priest, "in the South wood,
in a spring evening. Varney was muffled in a russet cloak, so that I saw
not his face. They separated hastily, as they heard me rustle amongst
the leaves; and I observed she turned her head and looked long after
him."
"With neck REGUARDANT," said the herald. "And on the day of her flight,
and that was on Saint Austen's Eve, I saw Varney's groom, attired in his
liveries, hold his master's horse and Mistress Amy's palfrey, bridled
and saddled PROPER, behind the wall of the churchyard."
"And now is she found mewed up in his secret place of retirement," said
Tressilian. "The villain is taken in the manner, and I well wish he may
deny his crime, that I may thrust conviction down his false throat! But
I must prepare for my journey. Do you, gentlemen, dispose my patron to
grant me such powers as are needful to act in his name."
So saying, Tressilian left the room.
"He is too hot," said the curate; "and I pray to God that He may grant
him the patience to deal with Varney as is fitting."
"Patience and Varney," said Mumblazen, "is worse heraldry than metal
upon metal. He is more false than a siren, more rapacious than a
griffin, more poisonous than a wyvern, and more cruel than a lion
rampant."
"Yet I doubt much," said the curate, "whether we can with propriety ask
from Sir Hugh Robsart, being in his present condition, any deed deputing
his paternal right in Mistress Amy to whomsoever - "
"Your reverence need not doubt that," said Will Badger, who entered as
he spoke, "for I will lay my life he is another man when he wakes than
he has been these thirty days past."
"Ay, Will," said the curate, "hast thou then so much confidence in
Doctor Diddleum's draught?"
"Not a whit," said Will, "because master ne'er tasted a drop on't,
seeing it was emptied out by the housemaid. But here's a gentleman, who
came attending on Master Tressilian, has given Sir Hugh a draught that
is worth twenty of yon un. I have spoken cunningly with him, and a
better farrier or one who hath a more just notion of horse and dog
ailment I have never seen; and such a one would never be unjust to a
Christian man."
"A farrier! you saucy groom - and by whose authority, pray?" said the
curate, rising in surprise and indignation; "or who will be warrant for
this new physician?"
"For authority, an it like your reverence, he had mine; and for warrant,
I trust I have not been five-and-twenty years in this house without
having right to warrant the giving of a draught to beast or body - I who
can gie a drench, and a ball, and bleed, or blister, if need, to my very
self."
The counsellors of the house of Robsart thought it meet to carry this
information instantly to Tressilian, who as speedily summoned before
him Wayland Smith, and demanded of him (in private, however) by what
authority he had ventured to administer any medicine to Sir Hugh
Robsart?
"Why," replied the artist, "your worship cannot but remember that I told
you I had made more progress into my master's - I mean the learned Doctor
Doboobie's - mystery than he was willing to own; and indeed half of his
quarrel and malice against me was that, besides that I got something too
deep into his secrets, several discerning persons, and particularly a
buxom young widow of Abingdon, preferred my prescriptions to his."
"None of thy buffoonery, sir," said Tressilian sternly. "If thou hast
trifled with us - much more, if thou hast done aught that may prejudice
Sir Hugh Robsart's health, thou shalt find thy grave at the bottom of a
tin-mine."
"I know too little of the great ARCANUM to convert the ore to
gold," said Wayland firmly. "But truce to your apprehensions, Master
Tressilian. I understood the good knight's case from what Master William
Badger told me; and I hope I am able enough to administer a poor dose
of mandragora, which, with the sleep that must needs follow, is all that
Sir Hugh Robsart requires to settle his distraught brains."
"I trust thou dealest fairly with me, Wayland?" said Tressilian.
"Most fairly and honestly, as the event shall show," replied the artist.
"What would it avail me to harm the poor old man for whom you are
interested? - you, to whom I owe it that Gaffer Pinniewinks is not even
now rending my flesh and sinews with his accursed pincers, and probing
every mole in my body with his sharpened awl (a murrain on the hands
which forged it!) in order to find out the witch's mark? - I trust to
yoke myself as a humble follower to your worship's train, and I only
wish to have my faith judged of by the result of the good knight's
slumbers."
Wayland Smith was right in his prognostication. The sedative draught
which his skill had prepared, and Will Badger's confidence had
administered, was attended with the most beneficial effects. The
patient's sleep was long and healthful, and the poor old knight awoke,
humbled indeed in thought and weak in frame, yet a much better judge of
whatever was subjected to his intellect than he had been for some time
past. He resisted for a while the proposal made by his friends that
Tressilian should undertake a journey to court, to attempt the recovery
of his daughter, and the redress of her wrongs, in so far as they might
yet be repaired. "Let her go," he said; "she is but a hawk that goes
down the wind; I would not bestow even a whistle to reclaim her." But
though he for some time maintained this argument, he was at length
convinced it was his duty to take the part to which natural affection
inclined him, and consent that such efforts as could yet be made
should be used by Tressilian in behalf of his daughter. He subscribed,
therefore, a warrant of attorney, such as the curate's skill enabled him
to draw up; for in those simple days the clergy were often the advisers
of their flock in law as well as in gospel.
All matters were prepared for Tressilian's second departure, within
twenty-four hours after he had returned to Lidcote Hall; but one
material circumstance had been forgotten, which was first called to the
remembrance of Tressilian by Master Mumblazen. "You are going to
court, Master Tressilian," said he; "you will please remember that your
blazonry must be ARGENT and OR - no other tinctures will pass current."
The remark was equally just and embarrassing. To prosecute a suit at
court, ready money was as indispensable even in the golden days of
Elizabeth as at any succeeding period; and it was a commodity little at
the command of the inhabitants of Lidcote Hall. Tressilian was himself
poor; the revenues of good Sir Hugh Robsart were consumed, and even
anticipated, in his hospitable mode of living; and it was finally
necessary that the herald who started the doubt should himself solve it.
Master Michael Mumblazen did so by producing a bag of money, containing
nearly three hundred pounds in gold and silver of various coinage, the
savings of twenty years, which he now, without speaking a syllable upon
the subject, dedicated to the service of the patron whose shelter
and protection had given him the means of making this little hoard.
Tressilian accepted it without affecting a moment's hesitation, and a
mutual grasp of the hand was all that passed betwixt them, to express
the pleasure which the one felt in dedicating his all to such a purpose,
and that which the other received from finding so material an obstacle
to the success of his journey so suddenly removed, and in a manner so
unexpected.
While Tressilian was making preparations for his departure early
the ensuing morning, Wayland Smith desired to speak with him, and,
expressing his hope that he had been pleased with the operation of his
medicine in behalf of Sir Hugh Robsart, added his desire to accompany
him to court. This was indeed what Tressilian himself had several times
thought of; for the shrewdness, alertness of understanding, and variety
of resource which this fellow had exhibited during the time they had
travelled together, had made him sensible that his assistance might be
of importance. But then Wayland was in danger from the grasp of law; and
of this Tressilian reminded him, mentioning something, at the same time,
of the pincers of Pinniewinks and the warrant of Master Justice Blindas.
Wayland Smith laughed both to scorn.
"See you, sir!" said he, "I have changed my garb from that of a farrier
to a serving-man; but were it still as it was, look at my moustaches.
They now hang down; I will but turn them up, and dye them with a
tincture that I know of, and the devil would scarce know me again."
He accompanied these words with the appropriate action, and in less
than a minute, by setting up, his moustaches and his hair, he seemed
a different person from him that had but now entered the room. Still,
however, Tressilian hesitated to accept his services, and the artist
became proportionably urgent.
"I owe you life and limb," he said, "and I would fain pay a part of the
debt, especially as I know from Will Badger on what dangerous service
your worship is bound. I do not, indeed, pretend to be what is called
a man of mettle, one of those ruffling tear-cats who maintain their
master's quarrel with sword and buckler. Nay, I am even one of those who
hold the end of a feast better than the beginning of a fray. But I know
that I can serve your worship better, in such quest as yours, than any
of these sword-and-dagger men, and that my head will be worth an hundred
of their hands."
Tressilian still hesitated. He knew not much of this strange fellow, and
was doubtful how far he could repose in him the confidence necessary
to render him a useful attendant upon the present emergency. Ere he
had come to a determination, the trampling of a horse was heard in the
courtyard, and Master Mumblazen and Will Badger both entered hastily
into Tressilian's chamber, speaking almost at the same moment.
"Here is a serving-man on the bonniest grey tit I ever see'd in my
life," said Will Badger, who got the start - "having on his arm a silver
cognizance, being a fire-drake holding in his mouth a brickbat, under
a coronet of an Earl's degree," said Master Mumblazen, "and bearing a
letter sealed of the same."
Tressilian took the letter, which was addressed "To the worshipful
Master Edmund Tressilian, our loving kinsman - These - ride, ride,
ride - for thy life, for thy life, for thy life." He then opened it, and
found the following contents: -
"MASTER TRESSILIAN, OUR GOOD FRIEND AND COUSIN,
"We are at present so ill at ease, and otherwise so unhappily
circumstanced, that we are desirous to have around us those of
our friends on whose loving-kindness we can most especially repose
confidence; amongst whom we hold our good Master Tressilian one of the
foremost and nearest, both in good will and good ability. We therefore
pray you, with your most convenient speed, to repair to our poor
lodging, at Sayes Court, near Deptford, where we will treat further with
you of matters which we deem it not fit to commit unto writing. And so
we bid you heartily farewell, being your loving kinsman to command,
"RATCLIFFE, EARL OF SUSSEX."
"Send up the messenger instantly, Will Badger," said Tressilian; and
as the man entered the room, he exclaimed, "Ah, Stevens, is it you? how
does my good lord?"
"Ill, Master Tressilian," was the messenger's reply, "and having
therefore the more need of good friends around him."
"But what is my lord's malady?" said Tressilian anxiously; "I heard
nothing of his being ill."
"I know not, sir," replied the man; "he is very ill at ease. The
leeches are at a stand, and many of his household suspect foul
practice-witchcraft, or worse."
"What are the symptoms?" said Wayland Smith, stepping forward hastily.
"Anan?" said the messenger, not comprehending his meaning.
"What does he ail?" said Wayland; "where lies his disease?"
The man looked at Tressilian, as if to know whether he should
answer these inquiries from a stranger, and receiving a sign in the
affirmative, he hastily enumerated gradual loss of strength, nocturnal
perspiration, and loss of appetite, faintness, etc.
"Joined," said Wayland, "to a gnawing pain in the stomach, and a low
fever?"
"Even so," said the messenger, somewhat surprised.
"I know how the disease is caused," said the artist, "and I know the
cause. Your master has eaten of the manna of Saint Nicholas. I know
the cure too - my master shall not say I studied in his laboratory for
nothing."
"How mean you?" said Tressilian, frowning; "we speak of one of the first
nobles of England. Bethink you, this is no subject for buffoonery."
"God forbid!" said Wayland Smith. "I say that I know this disease, and
can cure him. Remember what I did for Sir Hugh Robsart."
"We will set forth instantly," said Tressilian. "God calls us."
Accordingly, hastily mentioning this new motive for his instant
departure, though without alluding to either the suspicions of Stevens,
or the assurances of Wayland Smith, he took the kindest leave of Sir
Hugh and the family at Lidcote Hall, who accompanied him with prayers
and blessings, and, attended by Wayland and the Earl of Sussex's
domestic, travelled with the utmost speed towards London.
CHAPTER XIII.
Ay, I know you have arsenic,
Vitriol, sal-tartre, argaile, alkaly,
Cinoper: I know all. - This fellow, Captain,
Will come in time to be a great distiller,
And give a say (I will not say directly,
But very near) at the philosopher's stone. THE ALCHEMIST.
Tressilian and his attendants pressed their route with all dispatch.
He had asked the smith, indeed, when their departure was resolved on,
whether he would not rather choose to avoid Berkshire, in which he had
played a part so conspicuous? But Wayland returned a confident answer.
He had employed the short interval they passed at Lidcote Hall in
transforming himself in a wonderful manner. His wild and overgrown
thicket of beard was now restrained to two small moustaches on the
upper lip, turned up in a military fashion. A tailor from the village
of Lidcote (well paid) had exerted his skill, under his customer's
directions, so as completely to alter Wayland's outward man, and take
off from his appearance almost twenty years of age. Formerly, besmeared
with soot and charcoal, overgrown with hair, and bent double with the
nature of his labour, disfigured too by his odd and fantastic dress,
he seemed a man of fifty years old. But now, in a handsome suit of
Tressilian's livery, with a sword by his side and a buckler on his
shoulder, he looked like a gay ruffling serving-man, whose age might
be betwixt thirty and thirty-five, the very prime of human life.
His loutish, savage-looking demeanour seemed equally changed, into a
forward, sharp, and impudent alertness of look and action.
When challenged by Tressilian, who desired to know the cause of a
metamorphosis so singular and so absolute, Wayland only answered by
singing a stave from a comedy, which was then new, and was supposed,
among the more favourable judges, to augur some genius on the part of
the author. We are happy to preserve the couplet, which ran exactly
thus, -
"Ban, ban, ca Caliban -
Get a new master - Be a new man."
Although Tressilian did not recollect the verses, yet they reminded
him that Wayland had once been a stage player, a circumstance which,
of itself, accounted indifferently well for the readiness with which
he could assume so total a change of personal appearance. The artist
himself was so confident of his disguise being completely changed, or
of his having completely changed his disguise, which may be the more
correct mode of speaking, that he regretted they were not to pass near
his old place of retreat.
"I could venture," he said, "in my present dress, and with your
worship's backing, to face Master Justice Blindas, even on a day of
Quarter Sessions; and I would like to know what is become of Hobgoblin,
who is like to play the devil in the world, if he can once slip the
string, and leave his granny and his dominie. - Ay, and the scathed
vault!" he said; "I would willingly have seen what havoc the explosion
of so much gunpowder has made among Doctor Demetrius Doboobie's retorts
and phials. I warrant me, my fame haunts the Vale of the Whitehorse long
after my body is rotten; and that many a lout ties up his horse, lays
down his silver groat, and pipes like a sailor whistling in a calm for
Wayland Smith to come and shoe his tit for him. But the horse will catch
the founders ere the smith answers the call."
In this particular, indeed, Wayland proved a true prophet; and so easily
do fables rise, that an obscure tradition of his extraordinary practice
in farriery prevails in the Vale of Whitehorse even unto this day; and
neither the tradition of Alfred's Victory, nor of the celebrated Pusey
Horn, are better preserved in Berkshire than the wild legend of Wayland
Smith. [See Note 2, Legend of Wayland Smith.]
The haste of the travellers admitted their making no stay upon their
journey, save what the refreshment of the horses required; and as many
of the places through which they passed were under the influence of the
Earl of Leicester, or persons immediately dependent on him, they thought
it prudent to disguise their names and the purpose of their journey.
On such occasions the agency of Wayland Smith (by which name we shall
continue to distinguish the artist, though his real name was Lancelot
Wayland) was extremely serviceable. He seemed, indeed, to have a
pleasure in displaying the alertness with which he could baffle
investigation, and amuse himself by putting the curiosity of tapsters
and inn-keepers on a false scent. During the course of their brief
journey, three different and inconsistent reports were circulated by him
on their account - namely, first, that Tressilian was the Lord Deputy of
Ireland, come over in disguise to take the Queen's pleasure concerning
the great rebel Rory Oge MacCarthy MacMahon; secondly, that the said
Tressilian was an agent of Monsieur, coming to urge his suit to the
hand of Elizabeth; thirdly, that he was the Duke of Medina, come over,
incognito, to adjust the quarrel betwixt Philip and that princess.
Tressilian was angry, and expostulated with the artist on the various
inconveniences, and, in particular, the unnecessary degree of attention
to which they were subjected by the figments he thus circulated; but
he was pacified (for who could be proof against such an argument?) by
Wayland's assuring him that a general importance was attached to his own
(Tressilian's) striking presence, which rendered it necessary to give an
extraordinary reason for the rapidity and secrecy of his journey.
At length they approached the metropolis, where, owing to the more
general recourse of strangers, their appearance excited neither
observation nor inquiry, and finally they entered London itself.
It was Tressilian's purpose to go down directly to Deptford, where Lord
Sussex resided, in order to be near the court, then held at Greenwich,
the favourite residence of Elizabeth, and honoured as her birthplace.
Still a brief halt in London was necessary; and it was somewhat
prolonged by the earnest entreaties of Wayland Smith, who desired
permission to take a walk through the city.
"Take thy sword and buckler, and follow me, then," said Tressilian; "I
am about to walk myself, and we will go in company."
This he said, because he was not altogether so secure of the fidelity
of his new retainer as to lose sight of him at this interesting moment,
when rival factions at the court of Elizabeth were running so high.
Wayland Smith willingly acquiesced in the precaution, of which he
probably conjectured the motive, but only stipulated that his master
should enter the shops of such chemists or apothecaries as he should
point out, in walking through Fleet Street, and permit him to make some
necessary purchases. Tressilian agreed, and obeying the signal of his
attendant, walked successively into more than four or five shops, where
he observed that Wayland purchased in each only one single drug, in
various quantities. The medicines which he first asked for were readily
furnished, each in succession, but those which he afterwards required
were less easily supplied; and Tressilian observed that Wayland more
than once, to the surprise of the shopkeeper, returned the gum or herb
that was offered to him, and compelled him to exchange it for the right
sort, or else went on to seek it elsewhere. But one ingredient, in
particular, seemed almost impossible to be found. Some chemists plainly
admitted they had never seen it; others denied that such a drug existed,
excepting in the imagination of crazy alchemists; and most of them
attempted to satisfy their customer, by producing some substitute,
which, when rejected by Wayland, as not being what he had asked
for, they maintained possessed, in a superior degree, the self-same
qualities. In general they all displayed some curiosity concerning the
purpose for which he wanted it. One old, meagre chemist, to whom
the artist put the usual question, in terms which Tressilian neither
understood nor could recollect, answered frankly, there was none of that
drug in London, unless Yoglan the Jew chanced to have some of it upon
hand.
"I thought as much," said Wayland. And as soon as they left the shop,
he said to Tressilian, "I crave your pardon, sir, but no artist can work
without his tools. I must needs go to this Yoglan's; and I promise you,
that if this detains you longer than your leisure seems to permit, you
shall, nevertheless, be well repaid by the use I will make of this rare
drug. Permit me," he added, "to walk before you, for we are now to quit
the broad street and we will make double speed if I lead the way."
Tressilian acquiesced, and, following the smith down a lane which turned
to the left hand towards the river, he found that his guide walked on
with great speed, and apparently perfect knowledge of the town, through
a labyrinth of by-streets, courts, and blind alleys, until at length
Wayland paused in the midst of a very narrow lane, the termination
of which showed a peep of the Thames looking misty and muddy, which
background was crossed saltierwise, as Mr. Mumblazen might have said, by
the masts of two lighters that lay waiting for the tide. The shop under
which he halted had not, as in modern days, a glazed window, but a
paltry canvas screen surrounded such a stall as a cobbler now occupies,
having the front open, much in the manner of a fishmonger's booth of the
present day. A little old smock-faced man, the very reverse of a Jew in
complexion, for he was very soft-haired as well as beardless, appeared,
and with many courtesies asked Wayland what he pleased to want. He had
no sooner named the drug, than the Jew started and looked surprised.
"And vat might your vorship vant vith that drug, which is not named,
mein God, in forty years as I have been chemist here?"
"These questions it is no part of my commission to answer," said
Wayland; "I only wish to know if you have what I want, and having it,
are willing to sell it?"
"Ay, mein God, for having it, that I have, and for selling it, I am a
chemist, and sell every drug." So saying, he exhibited a powder, and
then continued, "But it will cost much moneys. Vat I ave cost its weight
in gold - ay, gold well-refined - I vill say six times. It comes from
Mount Sinai, where we had our blessed Law given forth, and the plant
blossoms but once in one hundred year."
"I do not know how often it is gathered on Mount Sinai," said Wayland,
after looking at the drug offered him with great disdain, "but I will
wager my sword and buckler against your gaberdine, that this trash you
offer me, instead of what I asked for, may be had for gathering any day
of the week in the castle ditch of Aleppo."
"You are a rude man," said the Jew; "and, besides, I ave no better than
that - or if I ave, I will not sell it without order of a physician, or
without you tell me vat you make of it."
The artist made brief answer in a language of which Tressilian could not
understand a word, and which seemed to strike the Jew with the
utmost astonishment. He stared upon Wayland like one who has suddenly
recognized some mighty hero or dreaded potentate, in the person of an
unknown and unmarked stranger. "Holy Elias!" he exclaimed, when he had
recovered the first stunning effects of his surprise; and then passing
from his former suspicious and surly manner to the very extremity of
obsequiousness, he cringed low to the artist, and besought him to enter
his poor house, to bless his miserable threshold by crossing it.
"Vill you not taste a cup vith the poor Jew, Zacharias Yoglan? - Vill you
Tokay ave? - vill you Lachrymae taste? - vill you - "
"You offend in your proffers," said Wayland; "minister to me in what I
require of you, and forbear further discourse."
The rebuked Israelite took his bunch of keys, and opening with
circumspection a cabinet which seemed more strongly secured than the
other cases of drugs and medicines amongst which it stood, he drew out a
little secret drawer, having a glass lid, and containing a small portion
of a black powder. This he offered to Wayland, his manner conveying
the deepest devotion towards him, though an avaricious and jealous
expression, which seemed to grudge every grain of what his customer was
about to possess himself, disputed ground in his countenance with the
obsequious deference which he desired it should exhibit.
"Have you scales?" said Wayland.
The Jew pointed to those which lay ready for common use in the shop,
but he did so with a puzzled expression of doubt and fear, which did not
escape the artist.
"They must be other than these," said Wayland sternly. "Know you not
that holy things lose their virtue if weighed in an unjust balance?"
The Jew hung his head, took from a steel-plated casket a pair of scales
beautifully mounted, and said, as he adjusted them for the artist's