CHAPTER IV. EXHIBITING THE BENEFITS WHICH ROYAL PATRONAGE CONFERS ONGENIUS,--ALSO THE EARLY LOVES OF THE LORD HASTINGS; WITH OTHER MATTERSEDIFYING AND DELECTABLE.
The furnace was still at work, the flame glowed, the bellows heaved;but these were no longer ministering to the service of a mighty andpractical invention. The mathematician, the philosopher, had descendedto the alchemist. The nature of the TIME had conquered the nature ofa GENIUS meant to subdue time. Those studies that had gone so farto forestall the master-triumph of far later ages were exchanged foroccupations that played with the toys of infant wisdom. O true Tartarusof Genius, when its energies are misapplied, when the labour but rollsthe stone up the mountain, but pours water upon water through the sieve!
There is a sanguineness in men of great intellect which often leads theminto follies avoided by the dull. When Adam Warner saw the ruin of hiscontrivance; when he felt that time and toil and money were necessary toits restoration; and when the gold he lacked was placed before him as areward for alchemical labours, he at first turned to alchemy as he wouldhave turned to the plough,--as he had turned to conspiracy,--simply as ameans to his darling end. But by rapid degrees the fascination which allthe elder sages experienced in the grand secret exercised its witcheryover his mind. If Roger Bacon, though catching the notion of thesteam-engine, devoted himself to the philosopher's stone; if even in somuch more enlightened an age Newton had wasted some precious hours inthe transmutation of metals, it was natural that the solitary sage ofthe reign of Edward IV. should grow, for a while at least, wedded to apursuit which promised results so august. And the worst of alchemy is,that it always allures on its victims: one gets so near and so near theobject,--it seems that so small an addition will complete the sum!So there he was--this great practical genius--hard at work on turningcopper into gold!
"Well, Master Warner," said the young goldsmith, entering the student'schamber, "methinks you scarcely remember your friend and visitor,Nicholas Alwyn?"
"Remember, oh, certes! doubtless one of the gentlemen present when theyproposed to put me to the brake [the old word for rack]. Please to standa little on this side--what is your will?"
"I am not a gentleman, and I should have been loth to stand idly bywhen the torture was talked of for a free-born Englishman, let alone ascholar. And where is your fair daughter, Master Warner? I suppose yousee but little of her now she is the great dame's waiting-damsel?"
"And why so, Master Alwyn?" asked a charming voice; and Alwyn for thefirst time perceived the young form of Sibyll, by the embrasure of awindow, from which might be seen in the court below a gay group of lordsand courtiers, with the plain, dark dress of Hastings, contrasting theirgaudy surcoats, glittering with cloth-of-gold. Alwyn's tongue cloveto his mouth; all he had to say was forgotten in a certain bashful andindescribable emotion.
The alchemist had returned to his furnace, and the young man and thegirl were as much alone as if Adam Warner had been in heaven.
"And why should the daughter forsake the sire more in a court, wherelove is rare, than in the humbler home, where they may need each otherless?"
"I thank thee for the rebuke, mistress," said Alwyn, delighted with herspeech; "for I should have been sorry to see thy heart spoiled by thevanities that kill most natures." Scarcely had he uttered these words,than they seemed to him overbold and presuming; for his eye now took inthe great change of which Marmaduke had spoken. Sibyll's dress beseemedthe new rank which she held: the corset, fringed with gold, and made ofthe finest thread, showed the exquisite contour of the throat andneck, whose ivory it concealed. The kirtle of rich blue became thefair complexion and dark chestnut hair; and over all she wore thatmost graceful robe, called the sasquenice, of which the old French poetsang,--
"Car nulie robe n'est si belle A dame ne a demoiselle."
This garment, worn over the rest of the dress, had perhaps a classicalorigin, and with slight variations may be seen on the Etruscan vases;it was long and loose, of the whitest and finest linen, with hangingsleeves, and open at the sides. But it was not the mere dress thathad embellished the young maiden's form and aspect,--it was rather anindefinable alteration in the expression and the bearing. She looked asif born to the airs of courts; still modest indeed, and simple, but witha consciousness of dignity, and almost of power; and in fact thewoman had been taught the power that womanhood possesses. She had beenadmired, followed, flattered; she had learned the authority of beauty.Her accomplishments, uncommon in that age among her sex, had aided hercharm of person; her natural pride, which, though hitherto latent, washigh and ardent, fed her heart with sweet hopes; a bright career seemedto extend before her; and, at peace as to her father's safety, relievedfrom the drudging cares of poverty, her fancy was free to followthe phantasms of sanguine youth through the airy land of dreams. Andtherefore it was that the maid was changed!
At the sight of the delicate beauty, the self-possessed expression,the courtly dress, the noble air of Sibyll, Nicholas Alwyn recoiled andturned pale; he no longer marvelled at her rejection of Marmaduke, andhe started at the remembrance of the bold thoughts which he had daredhimself to indulge.
The girl smiled at the young man's confusion.
"It is not prosperity that spoils the heart," she said touchingly,"unless it be mean indeed. Thou rememberest, Master Alwyn, that when Godtried His saint, it was by adversity and affliction."
"May thy trial in these last be over," answered Alwyn; "but the humblemust console their state by thinking that the great have their trialstoo; and, as our homely adage hath it, 'That is not always good inthe maw which is sweet in the mouth.' Thou seest much of my gentlefoster-brother, Mistress Sibyll?"
"But in the court dances, Master Alwyn; for most of the hours in whichmy lady duchess needs me not are spent here. Oh, my father hopes greatthings! and now at last fame dawns upon him."
"I rejoice to hear it, mistress; and so, having paid ye both my homage,I take my leave, praying that I may visit you from time to time, if itbe only to consult this worshipful master touching certain improvementsin the horologe, in which his mathematics can doubtless instruct me.Farewell. I have some jewels to show to the Lady of Bonville."
"The Lady of Bonville!" repeated Sibyll, changing colour; "she is a dameof notable loveliness."
"So men say,--and mated to a foolish lord; but scandal, which sparesfew, breathes not on her,--rare praise for a court dame. Few Houses canhave the boast of Lord Warwick's,--'that all the men are without fear,and all the women without stain.'"
"It is said," observed Sibyll, looking down, "that my Lord Hastings oncemuch affectioned the Lady Bonville. Hast thou heard such gossip?"
"Surely, yes; in the city we hear all the tales of the court; for manya courtier, following King Edward's exemplar, dines with the citizento-day, that he may borrow gold from the citizen to-morrow. Surely, yes;and hence, they say, the small love the wise Hastings bears to the stoutearl."
"How runs the tale? Be seated, Master Alwyn."
"Marry, thus: when William Hastings was but a squire, and much favouredby Richard, Duke of York, he lifted his eyes to the Lady KatherineNevile, sister to the Earl of Warwick, and in beauty and in dower, as inbirth, a mate for a king's son."
"And, doubtless, the Lady Katherine returned his love?"
"So it is said, maiden; and the Earl of Salisbury her father and LordWarwick her brother discovered the secret, and swore that no new man(the stout earl's favourite word of contempt), though he were made aduke, should give to an upstart posterity the quarterings of Montaguand Nevile. Marry, Mistress Sibyll, there is a north country and pithyproverb, 'Happy is the man whose father went to the devil.' Had some oldHastings been a robber and extortioner, and left to brave William theheirship of his wickedness in lordships and lands, Lord Warwick had notcalled him 'a new man.' Master Hastings was dragged, like a serf's son,before the earl on his dais; and be sure he was rated soundly, forhis bold blood was up, and he defied the earl, as a gentleman born, tosingle battle. Then the earl's fo
llowers would have fallen on him; andin those days, under King Henry, he who bearded a baron in his hall musthave a troop at his back, or was like to have a rope round his neck;but the earl (for the lion is not as fierce as they paint him) came downfrom his dais, and said, 'Man, I like thy spirit, and I myself will dubthee knight that I may pick up thy glove and give thee battle.'"
"And they fought? Brave Hastings!"
"No. For whether the Duke of York forbade it, or whether the LadyKatherine would not hear of such strife between fere and frere, I knownot; but Duke Richard sent Hastings to Ireland, and, a month after, theLady Katherine married Lord Bonville's son and heir,--so, at least,tell the gossips and sing the ballad-mongers. Men add that Lord Hastingsstill loves the dame, though, certes, he knows how to console himself."
"Loves her! Nay, nay,--I trove not," answered Sibyll, in a low voice,and with a curl of her dewy lip.
At this moment the door opened gently and Lord Hastings himself entered.He came in with the familiarity of one accustomed to the place.
"And how fares the grand secret, Master Warner? Sweet mistress! thouseemest lovelier to me in this dark chamber than outshining all in thegalliard. Ha! Master Alwyn, I owe thee many thanks for making me knowfirst the rare arts of this fair emblazoner. Move me yon stool, goodAlwyn."
As the goldsmith obeyed, he glanced from Hastings to the blushing faceand heaving bosom of Sibyll, and a deep and exquisite pang shot throughhis heart. It was not jealousy alone; it was anxiety, compassion,terror. The powerful Hastings, the ambitious lord, the accomplishedlibertine--what a fate for poor Sibyll, if for such a man the cheekblushed and the bosom heaved!
"Well, Master Warner," resumed Hastings, "thou art still silent as tothy progress."
The philosopher uttered an impatient groan. "Ah, I comprehend. Thegoldmaker must not speak of his craft before the goldsmith. Good Alwyn,thou mayest retire. All arts have their mysteries."
Alwyn, with a sombre brow, moved to the door.
"In sooth," he said, "I have overtarried, good my lord. The LadyBonville will chide me; for she is of no patient temper."
"Bridle thy tongue, artisan, and begone!" said Hastings, with unusualhaughtiness and petulance.
"I stung him there," muttered Alwyn, as he withdrew. "Oh, fool thatI was to--nay, I thought it never, I did but dream it. What wonder wetraders hate these silken lords! They reap, we sow; they trifle, wetoil; they steal with soft words into the hearts which--Oh, Marmaduke,thou art right-right!--Stout men sit not down to weep beneath thewillow. But she--the poor maiden--she looked so haughty and so happy.This is early May; will she wear that look when the autumn leaves arestrewn?"