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 hadplayed a part so conspicuous? But Wayland returned a confident answer.He had employed the short interval they passed at Lidcote Hall intransforming himself in a wonderful manner. His wild and overgrownthicket of beard was now restrained to two small moustaches on theupper lip, turned up in a military fashion. A tailor from the villageof Lidcote (well paid) had exerted his skill, under his customer'sdirections, so as completely to alter Wayland's outward man, and takeoff from his appearance almost twenty years of age. Formerly, besmearedwith soot and charcoal, overgrown with hair, and bent double with thenature 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 ofTressilian's livery, with a sword by his side and a buckler on hisshoulder, he looked like a gay ruffling serving-man, whose age mightbe betwixt thirty and thirty-five, the very prime of human life.His loutish, savage-looking demeanour seemed equally changed, into aforward, sharp, and impudent alertness of look and action.
When challenged by Tressilian, who desired to know the cause of ametamorphosis so singular and so absolute, Wayland only answered bysinging a stave from a comedy, which was then new, and was supposed,among the more favourable judges, to augur some genius on the part ofthe author. We are happy to preserve the couplet, which ran exactlythus,--
"Ban, ban, ca Caliban-- Get a new master--Be a new man."
Although Tressilian did not recollect the verses, yet they remindedhim that Wayland had once been a stage player, a circumstance which,of itself, accounted indifferently well for the readiness with whichhe could assume so total a change of personal appearance. The artisthimself was so confident of his disguise being completely changed, orof his having completely changed his disguise, which may be the morecorrect mode of speaking, that he regretted they were not to pass nearhis old place of retreat.
"I could venture," he said, "in my present dress, and with yourworship's backing, to face Master Justice Blindas, even on a day ofQuarter 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 thestring, and leave his granny and his dominie.--Ay, and the scathedvault!" he said; "I would willingly have seen what havoc the explosionof so much gunpowder has made among Doctor Demetrius Doboobie's retortsand phials. I warrant me, my fame haunts the Vale of the Whitehorse longafter my body is rotten; and that many a lout ties up his horse, laysdown his silver groat, and pipes like a sailor whistling in a calm forWayland Smith to come and shoe his tit for him. But the horse will catchthe founders ere the smith answers the call."
In this particular, indeed, Wayland proved a true prophet; and so easilydo fables rise, that an obscure tradition of his extraordinary practicein farriery prevails in the Vale of Whitehorse even unto this day; andneither the tradition of Alfred's Victory, nor of the celebrated PuseyHorn, are better preserved in Berkshire than the wild legend of WaylandSmith. [See Note 2, Legend of Wayland Smith.]
The haste of the travellers admitted their making no stay upon theirjourney, save what the refreshment of the horses required; and as manyof the places through which they passed were under the influence of theEarl of Leicester, or persons immediately dependent on him, they thoughtit prudent to disguise their names and the purpose of their journey.On such occasions the agency of Wayland Smith (by which name we shallcontinue to distinguish the artist, though his real name was LancelotWayland) was extremely serviceable. He seemed, indeed, to have apleasure in displaying the alertness with which he could baffleinvestigation, and amuse himself by putting the curiosity of tapstersand inn-keepers on a false scent. During the course of their briefjourney, three different and inconsistent reports were circulated by himon their account--namely, first, that Tressilian was the Lord Deputy ofIreland, come over in disguise to take the Queen's pleasure concerningthe great rebel Rory Oge MacCarthy MacMahon; secondly, that the saidTressilian was an agent of Monsieur, coming to urge his suit to thehand 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 variousinconveniences, and, in particular, the unnecessary degree of attentionto which they were subjected by the figments he thus circulated; buthe was pacified (for who could be proof against such an argument?) byWayland's assuring him that a general importance was attached to his own(Tressilian's) striking presence, which rendered it necessary to give anextraordinary reason for the rapidity and secrecy of his journey.
At length they approached the metropolis, where, owing to the moregeneral recourse of strangers, their appearance excited neitherobservation nor inquiry, and finally they entered London itself.
It was Tressilian's purpose to go down directly to Deptford, where LordSussex 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 somewhatprolonged by the earnest entreaties of Wayland Smith, who desiredpermission to take a walk through the city.
"Take thy sword and buckler, and follow me, then," said Tressilian; "Iam about to walk myself, and we will go in company."
This he said, because he was not altogether so secure of the fidelityof 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 heprobably conjectured the motive, but only stipulated that his mastershould enter the shops of such chemists or apothecaries as he shouldpoint out, in walking through Fleet Street, and permit him to make somenecessary purchases. Tressilian agreed, and obeying the signal of hisattendant, walked successively into more than four or five shops, wherehe observed that Wayland purchased in each only one single drug, invarious quantities. The medicines which he first asked for were readilyfurnished, each in succession, but those which he afterwards requiredwere less easily supplied; and Tressilian observed that Wayland morethan once, to the surprise of the shopkeeper, returned the gum or herbthat was offered to him, and compelled him to exchange it for the rightsort, or else went on to seek it elsewhere. But one ingredient, inparticular, seemed almost impossible to be found. Some chemists plainlyadmitted they had never seen it; others denied that such a drug existed,excepting in the imagination of crazy alchemists; and most of themattempted to satisfy their customer, by producing some substitute,which, when rejected by Wayland, as not being what he had askedfor, they maintained possessed, in a superior degree, the self-samequalities. In general they all displayed some curiosity concerning thepurpose for which he wanted it. One old, meagre chemist, to whomthe artist put the usual question, in terms which Tressilian neitherunderstood nor could recollect, answered frankly, there was none of thatdrug in London, unless Yoglan the Jew chanced to have some of it uponhand.
"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 workwithout 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, youshall, nevertheless, be well repaid by the use I will make of this raredrug. Permit me," he added, "to walk before you, for we are now to quitthe broad street and we will make double speed if I lead the way."
Tressilian acquiesced, and, following the smith down a lane which turnedto the left hand towards the river, he found that his guide walked onwith great speed, and apparently perfect knowledge of the town, througha labyrinth of by-streets,
courts, and blind alleys, until at lengthWayland paused in the midst of a very narrow lane, the terminationof which showed a peep of the Thames looking misty and muddy, whichbackground was crossed saltierwise, as Mr. Mumblazen might have said, bythe masts of two lighters that lay waiting for the tide. The shop underwhich he halted had not, as in modern days, a glazed window, but apaltry 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 thepresent day. A little old smock-faced man, the very reverse of a Jew incomplexion, for he was very soft-haired as well as beardless, appeared,and with many courtesies asked Wayland what he pleased to want. He hadno 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," saidWayland; "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 achemist, and sell every drug." So saying, he exhibited a powder, andthen continued, "But it will cost much moneys. Vat I ave cost its weightin gold--ay, gold well-refined--I vill say six times. It comes fromMount Sinai, where we had our blessed Law given forth, and the plantblossoms 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 willwager my sword and buckler against your gaberdine, that this trash youoffer me, instead of what I asked for, may be had for gathering any dayof the week in the castle ditch of Aleppo."
"You are a rude man," said the Jew; "and, besides, I ave no better thanthat--or if I ave, I will not sell it without order of a physician, orwithout you tell me vat you make of it."
The artist made brief answer in a language of which Tressilian could notunderstand a word, and which seemed to strike the Jew with theutmost astonishment. He stared upon Wayland like one who has suddenlyrecognized some mighty hero or dreaded potentate, in the person of anunknown and unmarked stranger. "Holy Elias!" he exclaimed, when he hadrecovered the first stunning effects of his surprise; and then passingfrom his former suspicious and surly manner to the very extremity ofobsequiousness, he cringed low to the artist, and besought him to enterhis poor house, to bless his miserable threshold by crossing it.
"Vill you not taste a cup vith the poor Jew, Zacharias Yoglan?--Vill youTokay ave?--vill you Lachrymae taste?--vill you--"
"You offend in your proffers," said Wayland; "minister to me in what Irequire of you, and forbear further discourse."
The rebuked Israelite took his bunch of keys, and opening withcircumspection a cabinet which seemed more strongly secured than theother cases of drugs and medicines amongst which it stood, he drew out alittle secret drawer, having a glass lid, and containing a small portionof a black powder. This he offered to Wayland, his manner conveyingthe deepest devotion towards him, though an avaricious and jealousexpression, which seemed to grudge every grain of what his customer wasabout to possess himself, disputed ground in his countenance with theobsequious 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 notescape the artist.
"They must be other than these," said Wayland sternly. "Know you notthat 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 scalesbeautifully mounted, and said, as he adjusted them for the artist'suse, "With these I do mine own experiment--one hair of the high-priest'sbeard would turn them."
"It suffices," said the artist, and weighed out two drachms for himselfof the black powder, which he very carefully folded up, and put into hispouch with the other drugs. He then demanded the price of the Jew, whoanswered, shaking his head and bowing,--
"No price--no, nothing at all from such as you. But you will see thepoor Jew again? you will look into his laboratory, where, God help him,he hath dried himself to the substance of the withered gourd of Jonah,the holy prophet. You will ave pity on him, and show him one little stepon the great road?"
"Hush!" said Wayland, laying his finger mysteriously on his mouth; "itmay be we shall meet again. Thou hast already the SCHAHMAJM, as thineown Rabbis call it--the general creation; watch, therefore, and pray,for thou must attain the knowledge of Alchahest Elixir Samech ere Imay commune further with thee." Then returning with a slight nod thereverential congees of the Jew, he walked gravely up the lane, followedby his master, whose first observation on the scene he had justwitnessed was, that Wayland ought to have paid the man for his drug,whatever it was.
"I pay him?" said the artist. "May the foul fiend pay me if I do! Hadit not been that I thought it might displease your worship, I would havehad an ounce or two of gold out of him, in exchange of the same justweight of brick dust."
"I advise you to practise no such knavery while waiting upon me," saidTressilian.
"Did I not say," answered the artist, "that for that reason alone Iforbore him for the present?--Knavery, call you it? Why, yonder wretchedskeleton hath wealth sufficient to pave the whole lane he lives in withdollars, and scarce miss them out of his own iron chest; yet he goes madafter the philosopher's stone. And besides, he would have cheated a poorserving-man, as he thought me at first, with trash that was not wortha penny. Match for match, quoth the devil to the collier; if his falsemedicine was worth my good crowns, my true brick dust is as well worthhis good gold."
"It may be so, for aught I know," said Tressilian, "in dealing amongstJews and apothecaries; but understand that to have such tricks oflegerdemain practised by one attending on me diminishes my honour, andthat I will not permit them. I trust thou hast made up thy purchases?"
"I have, sir," replied Wayland; "and with these drugs will I, this veryday, compound the true orvietan, that noble medicine which is so seldomfound genuine and effective within these realms of Europe, for wantof that most rare and precious drug which I got but now from Yoglan."[Orvietan, or Venice treacle, as it was sometimes called, was understoodto be a sovereign remedy against poison; and the reader must becontented, for the time he peruses these pages, to hold the sameopinion, which was once universally received by the learned as well asthe vulgar.]
"But why not have made all your purchases at one shop?" said his master;"we have lost nearly an hour in running from one pounder of simples toanother."
"Content you, sir," said Wayland. "No man shall learn my secret; andit would not be mine long, were I to buy all my materials from onechemist."
They now returned to their inn (the famous Bell-Savage); and while theLord Sussex's servant prepared the horses for their journey, Wayland,obtaining from the cook the service of a mortar, shut himself up ina private chamber, where he mixed, pounded, and amalgamated the drugswhich he had bought, each in its due proportion, with a readinessand address that plainly showed him well practised in all the manualoperations of pharmacy.
By the time Wayland's electuary was prepared the horses were ready, anda short hour's riding brought them to the present habitation of LordSussex, an ancient house, called Sayes Court, near Deptford, whichhad long pertained to a family of that name, but had for upwards of acentury been possessed by the ancient and honourable family of Evelyn.The present representative of that ancient house took a deep interestin the Earl of Sussex, and had willingly accommodated both him and hisnumerous retinue in his hospitable mansion. Sayes Court was afterwardsthe residence of the celebrated Mr. Evelyn, whose "Silva" is still themanual of British planters; and whose life, manners, and principles, asillustrated in his Memoirs, ought equally to be the manual of Englishgentlemen.