CHAPTER I
THE TOMB OF THE ROSICRUCIAN
On the night of the 1st of March 1800, and at a late hour, a man,wrapped in a large horseman's cloak, and of strange and sinisterappearance, entered an old deserted house in the neighbourhood ofStepney Green. He was tall, carried himself very erect, and seemed inthe full vigour of early manhood; but his features had a worn andghastly look, as if bearing the stamp of long-indulged and frightfulexcesses, while his dark gleaming eyes gave him an expression almostdiabolical.
This person had gained the house from a garden behind it, and now stoodin a large dismantled hall, from which a broad oaken staircase, withcuriously-carved banisters, led to a gallery, and thence to the upperchambers of the habitation. Nothing could be more dreary than the aspectof the place. The richly-moulded ceiling was festooned with spiders'webs, and in some places had fallen in heaps upon the floor; the gloriesof the tapestry upon the walls were obliterated by damps; the squares ofblack and white marble, with which the hall was paved, were loosened,and quaked beneath the footsteps; the wide and empty fireplace yawnedlike the mouth of a cavern; the bolts of the closed windows were rustedin their sockets; and the heaps of dust before the outer door provedthat long years had elapsed since any one had passed through it.
Taking a dark lantern from beneath his cloak, the individual in questiongazed for a moment around him, and then, with a sardonic smile playingupon his features, directed his steps towards a room on the right, thedoor of which stood open.
This chamber, which was large and cased with oak, was whollyunfurnished, like the hall, and in an equally dilapidated condition. Theonly decoration remaining on its walls was the portrait of a venerablepersonage in the cap and gown of Henry the Eighth's time, paintedagainst a panel--a circumstance which had probably saved it fromdestruction--and beneath it, fixed in another panel, a plate of brass,covered with mystical characters and symbols, and inscribed with thename "Cyprianus de Rougemont, Fra. R.C." The same name likewise appearedupon a label beneath the portrait, with the date 1550.
Pausing before the portrait, the young man threw the light of thelantern full upon it, and revealed features somewhat resembling his ownin form, but of a severe and philosophic cast. In the eyes alone couldbe discerned the peculiar and terrible glimmer which distinguished hisown glances.
After regarding the portrait for some time fixedly, he thus addressedit:
"Dost hear me, old ancestor?" he cried. "I, thy descendant, Cyprian deRougemont, call upon thee to point out where thy gold is hidden? I knowthat thou wert a brother of the Rosy Cross--one of the illuminati--anddidst penetrate the mysteries of nature, and enter the region of light.I know, also, that thou wert buried in this house with a vast treasure;but though I have made diligent search for it, and others have searchedbefore me, thy grave has never yet been discovered! Listen to me!Methought Satan appeared to me in a dream last night, and bade me comehither, and I should find what I sought. The conditions he proposedwere, that I should either give him my own soul, or win him that ofAuriol Darcy. I assented. I am here. Where is thy treasure?"
After a pause, he struck the portrait with his clenched hand, exclaimingin a loud voice:
"Dost hear me, I say, old ancestor? I call on thee to give me thytreasure. Dost hear, I say?"
And he repeated the blow with greater violence.
Disturbed by the shock, the brass plate beneath the picture started fromits place, and fell to the ground.
"What is this?" cried Rougemont, gazing into the aperture left by theplate. "Ha!--my invocation has been heard!"
And, snatching up the lantern, he discovered, at the bottom of a littlerecess, about two feet deep, a stone, with an iron ring in the centre ofit. Uttering a joyful cry, he seized the ring, and drew the stoneforward without difficulty, disclosing an open space beyond it.
"This, then, is the entrance to my ancestor's tomb," cried Rougemont;"there can be no doubt of it. The old Rosicrucian has kept his secretwell; but the devil has helped me to wrest it from him. And now toprocure the necessary implements, in case, as is not unlikely, I shouldexperience further difficulty."
With this he hastily quitted the room, but returned almost immediatelywith a mallet, a lever, and a pitchfork; armed with which and thelantern, he crept through the aperture. This done, he found himself atthe head of a stone staircase, which he descended, and came to thearched entrance of a vault. The door, which was of stout oak, waslocked, but holding up the light towards it, he read the followinginscription:
"POST C.C.L. ANNOS PATEBO, 1550."
"In two hundred and fifty years I shall open!" cried Rougemont, "and thedate 1550--why, the exact time is arrived. Old Cyprian must haveforeseen what would happen, and evidently intended to make me his heir.There was no occasion for the devil's interference. And see, the key isin the lock. So!" And he turned it, and pushing against the door withsome force, the rusty hinges gave way, and it fell inwards.
The Tomb of the Rosicrucian.]
From the aperture left by the fallen door, a soft and silvery lightstreamed forth, and, stepping forward, Rougemont found himself in aspacious vault, from the ceiling of which hung a large globe of crystal,containing in its heart a little flame, which diffused a radiance,gentle as that of the moon, around. This, then, was the ever-burninglamp of the Rosicrucians, and Rougemont gazed at it with astonishment.Two hundred and fifty years had elapsed since that wondrous flame hadbeen lighted, and yet it burnt on brightly as ever. Hooped round theglobe was a serpent with its tail in its mouth--an emblem ofeternity--wrought in purest gold; while above it were a pair of silverwings, in allusion to the soul. Massive chains of the more costly metal,fashioned like twisted snakes, served as suspenders to the lamp.
But Rougemont's astonishment at this marvel quickly gave way to otherfeelings, and he gazed around the vault with greedy eyes.
It was a septilateral chamber, about eight feet high, built of stone,and supported by beautifully groined arches. The surface of the masonrywas as smooth and fresh as if the chisel had only just left it.
In six of the corners were placed large chests, ornamented with ironworkof the most exquisite workmanship, and these Rougemont's imaginationpictured as filled with inexhaustible treasure; while in the seventhcorner, near the door, was a beautiful little piece of monumentalsculpture in white marble, representing two kneeling and hooded figures,holding a veil between them, which partly concealed the entrance to asmall recess. On one of the chests opposite the monument just describedstood a strangely-formed bottle and a cup of antique workmanship, bothencrusted with gems.
The walls were covered with circles, squares, and diagrams, and in someplaces were ornamented with grotesque carvings. In the centre of thevault was a round altar, of black marble, covered with a plate of gold,on which Rougemont read the following inscription:
"Hoc universi compendium unius mihi sepulcrum feci."
"Here, then, old Cyprian lies," he cried.
And, prompted by some irresistible impulse, he seized the altar by theupper rim, and overthrew it. The heavy mass of marble fell with athundering crash, breaking asunder the flag beneath it. It might be thereverberation of the vaulted roof, but a deep groan seemed to reproachthe young man for his sacrilege. Undeterred, however, by this warning,Rougemont placed the point of the lever between the interstices of thebroken stone, and, exerting all his strength, speedily raised thefragments, and laid open the grave.
Within it, in the garb he wore in life, with his white beard streamingto his waist, lay the uncoffined body of his ancestor, Cyprian deRougemont. The corpse had evidently been carefully embalmed, and thefeatures were unchanged by decay. Upon the breast, with the hands placedover it, lay a large book, bound in black vellum, and fastened withbrazen clasps. Instantly possessing himself of this mysterious-lookingvolume, Rougemont knelt upon the nearest chest, and opened it. But hewas disappointed in his expectation. All the pages he examined werefilled with cabalistic characters, which he was totally unable todecipher.
/> At length, however, he chanced upon one page the import of which hecomprehended, and he remained for some time absorbed in itscontemplation, while an almost fiendish smile played upon his features.
"Aha!" he exclaimed, closing the volume, "I see now the cause of myextraordinary dream. My ancestor's wondrous power was of infernalorigin--the result, in fact, of a compact with the Prince of Darkness.But what care I for that? Give me wealth--no matter what source it comesfrom!--ha! ha!"
And seizing the lever, he broke open the chest beside him. It was filledwith bars of silver. The next he visited in the same way was full ofgold. The third was laden with pearls and precious stones; and the restcontained treasure to an incalculable amount. Rougemont gazed at them intransports of joy.
"At length I have my wish," he cried. "Boundless wealth, and thereforeboundless power, is mine. I can riot in pleasure--riot in vengeance. Asto my soul, I will run the risk of its perdition; but it shall go hardif I destroy not that of Auriol. His love of play and his passion forEdith Talbot shall be the means by which I will work. But I must notneglect another agent which is offered me. That bottle, I have learntfrom yon volume, contains an infernal potion, which, without destroyinglife, shatters the brain, and creates maddening fancies. It will wellserve my purpose; and I thank thee, Satan, for the gift."