THE CRYSTAL GAZERS
When Duprès, the alchemist's crystal gazer and spirit raiser, heard that
he was commanded to the lodging of the young Counts of Nassau with the
object of foretelling their future, he gave one of his usual whimsical
smiles, as if he despised the credulity and curiosity of those who
sought him, and proceeded to pack up his magic table.
Vanderlinden, who had found his colleague's spirits more tantalizing and
vexing than helpful, tried to dissuade him from putting his powers to
the proof before such reckless young cavaliers "who have no respect nor
taste for holy things," he said, "and mean but to mock and jest at the
spirits."
But the Frenchman was a mysterious creature given to whims and impulses
and secretive ways, and wholly beyond the control of the alchemist who
kept him for his undoubted gifts, but found him the most trying of
companions and allies.
On this occasion he made no answer to his master's protests, but
continued his preparations.
"This is Count Adolphus," complained Vanderlinden. "All the while Count
Louis was at Dresden he showed no wish to consult the spirits."
This was quite true. Louis of Nassau had no turn for the mystical, and
the scant leisure allowed him by his brother's marriage negotiations had
been employed in more full-blooded amusement than that of spirit
raising. His eagerness for reckless adventure had, however, caused him
to at once accede to his brother's suggestion that they should put to
the test the powers of the Elector's magician (as they called him).
"I hear the Prince of Orange will be present also," said Vanderlinden,
vexed, "and he is a great person and not one to be lightly brought into
affairs of this kind."
Duprès gave no answer; his strange, dry, and rather impudent face was
wrinkled with a smile.
"Well, you do it without my sanction," remarked Vanderlinden, who knew
he could not control his unruly assistant, and, drawing his robes about
him, he retired to his turret.
Before he set out for the Counts' house, Duprès, after his wont, looked
up the careers of the personages who had called upon him in a great
notebook which was always with him, and in which he had gathered details
of all the notable people of Europe.
Of three of the brothers there was little to be said; they were too
young to have had any career, and were merely great nobles, born and
bred in the Reformed Faith, all unmarried, and residing in the ancestral
castle at Dillenburg together with the youngest brother, Henry, and
seven sisters, of whom one, Catherine, had recently married the Count of
Schwartzenburg, who had been Louis's joint envoy at Dresden.
Louis himself had lived largely at Brussels under the protection of his
brother, and in an official position (despite his faith) under Philip's
government.
This was all there was to be said of these three, but William of Orange
occupied a conspicuous and unique position, and had already had a career
of exceptional brilliance.
There was much about him in Duprès' notebooks.
He seemed indeed Fortune's favourite.
Through the Nassaus he came of a family that was one of the most
illustrious in Europe. One of their members had worn the Imperial crown;
others, as Dukes of Guelders, had been sovereigns in the Netherlands
hundreds of years before the House of Burgundy, to whom Philip owed his
throne, had ruled there; Engelbert of Nassau had been one of the
councillors of Charles the Bold; his eldest son had been the
confidential friend of the great Emperor Charles V, and had largely
helped to place the Imperial crown on the head of his master.
He had further increased the splendour of his house by a marriage with
Claude de Chalons, heiress of her brother, Philibert, Prince of Orange;
his son, René de Nassau Chalons, succeeded to the united possessions of
Nassau and Orange, and, dying young and childless in the Emperor's arms
at the battle of St. Dizier, bequeathed all these honours to his boy
cousin William, the present Prince, and eldest son of Count William,
younger brother of René's father Henry, head of the branch of Nassau
Dillenburg and of Juliana of Stolberg, his wife.
The price of Charles's consent to René's will was that the young heir to
such power should be brought up a Papist under his own eyes, and to
this, his father, though now a Protestant, had, in the interests of his
son, consented, and the young Lutheran, at the age of eleven, was sent
to the Imperial Court to be educated and trained.
He soon enjoyed a remarkable degree of favour with the Emperor, and at
the age of seventeen was given the hand of Anne, daughter of Maximilian
van Buren and the richest heiress in the Netherlands, soon afterwards
being appointed, over the heads of many tried and splendid soldiers,
commander-in-chief of the Imperial forces on the frontier—a post that he
filled to the Emperor's satisfaction.
He had been further distinguished by being the support of Charles on the
occasion of that monarch's flamboyant public abdication, and by having
been deputed to carry the Imperial Insignia to the new Emperor,
Ferdinand.
Immediately on the accession of Philip he had been employed by him to
negotiate the peace with France, which was soon after signed, and which
he had conducted in a manner highly satisfactory to Spain, leaving the
King considerably in his debt, for the peace was a triumphant one for
Philip.
The Prince had been selected (with the Duke of Alva) as one of the
hostages given by Spain to France, and, immediately on his return from
Paris, had strenuously supported the States in their demand for the
removal of Spanish troops from the Netherlands, thereby putting himself
in sudden and unexpected opposition to Philip, from whom, on that King's
departure from the Netherlands, he had parted with considerable
coolness.
He retained, however, the Stadtholdership of three important provinces,
and remained a member of the State Council who advised the Regent.
Lately, the Saxon marriage was supposed to have embittered his already
strained relations with the King, who had, however, recently given his
consent to the match, and even sent a sum of money to the Regent to buy
a ring for the bride. He was believed to be estranged from the arbitrary
and stern measures of the new Cardinal, and to favour the ancient
liberties of the Netherlands and tolerance for the heretics.
For the rest he was the most magnificent grandee in the Low Countries,
his splendid hospitality was famous, his table renowned in Europe, his
cooks coveted by Philip—who was a greater glutton than any man in his
own kingdoms—his debts were supposed to be huge, but there was never any
stint in the lavish extravagance with which he kept up his princely
residences, and his fortune, together with that left him by his first
wife, was known to be enormous; his revenues were but one-third less
than those the King drew from the Netherlands.
As Prince of Orange, he was a sovereign ruler, owing allegiance to no
one; his other titles were perhaps more numerous than those any noble in
Europe could boast.
As his father's heir, he was Count of Nassau and head of the Dillenburg
branch of that ancient house; he was also Count of Catzenellenbogen,
Count of Brabant, Marquis of Ter Veere, Viscount of Antwerp; as heir to
the Orange, Beaux, and Chalons families, he claimed the kingdom of
Arles, the dukedom of Gramine, three principalities, two margraveships,
two viscountships, sixteen countships, more than fifty baronies, and
three hundred lordships, and though most of these French titles were but
shadowy honours, he drew a princely revenue from his estates in
Franche-Comte, and his claim to the lands in Dauphine had been admitted.
He also owned estates in Brabant, Luxembourg, and Flanders, and all the
property of the Van Burens which his first wife had been able to leave
him. He was a knight of the Golden Fleece—that sumptuous and princely
order—a Grandee of Spain, Stadtholder of three provinces, a member of
Margaret's Council, and had been, until their withdrawal, commander,
with Lamoral Egmont, Prince of Gravern, of all the Spanish troops in the
Netherlands, as he had been commander-in-chief during the late war with
France.
Such was the outward history of this Prince, who, though still in his
first youth, was already so unusually distinguished both by his
fortunes, his position, his magnificence, his charm.
"One of the great ones of the earth," remarked Duprès, carefully locking
away the notebook after having committed to memory the leading points in
William's career. The spirits did not always prove tractable, and when
they were dumb Duprès was always ready to satisfy the inquirer with a
few judiciously vague replies of his own composition. He indeed cheated
so often, so shamelessly, and so skilfully that Vanderlinden had lately
lost all faith in him, and for this reason alone had been reluctant that
Duprès should experiment before the young Princes.
The alchemist, whose position under the Elector was his sole revenue,
was in constant fear of losing it through some trick or freakish jest on
the part of his assistant.
He made, however, no further attempt to interfere (knowing well enough
that it was hopeless), and towards the appointed hour Duprès, with the
two apprentices—sour at having been summoned early from the
tourney—behind him carrying the magic table, went forth into the sunny
dusty streets filled with merry idle crowds in their best clothes, most
of whom were discussing the prowess of the Elector at the jousts, His
Grace having held the field against all comers, and shivered the spears
of many a famous knight.
Reaching the Counts' lodging Duprès dismissed the two young men, and
himself proceeded to unpack his table.
The cavaliers had not yet returned from the tourney, but Duprès was
served very civilly with wine and comfits.
The room into which he had been admitted was a fairly small cabinet,
panelled in dark oak, and looking on the garden. It could be lit by a
lamp depending by a copper chain from the centre of the ceiling; there
was neither fireplace nor candle sconces. The furniture was composed
merely of a few black chairs, a table, and an armoir.
The spirit raiser declared himself satisfied with this chamber as the
right setting for his experiment, as he modestly called it, but he
desired the servants to remove the armoir, less he should be accused of
having an accomplice within (it was large enough to hold a man), and
also the table, as he wished to set up his own in place of it. When this
was done he asked them to take away all the chairs but five, one for
himself and the others for the four princes. He also requested that the
shutters should be closed, the lamp lit, and silence kept without during
the experience, lest some unusual noise should fright or vex the
spirits.
His preparations being now complete, he set himself to nicely adjust the
magic table in the interval of waiting.
This table was a curious and precious object, and Duprès had carried it
with him through many adventures and over the greater part of Europe. It
was of sweet wood, three feet high, and set on four legs, each of which
was set on a seal of pure wax engraved with a mystical sign and the
seven names of God, the whole put on a thick square of red and gold
changeable silk; in the centre of the table was another of the seals,
larger and more deeply imprinted, and over this was a red silk cover
with knots of gold at the four corners; in the centre of this cloth was
a large crystal ball, egg-shaped, and of a most special brightness.
Duprès now wrote certain characters with sacred oil on the legs of the
table, and all was complete. The spirit raiser—or skryer, as he had been
called in England—was himself attired in a plain black coat and breeches
with velvet half-socks of a purple colour, a plain band and a black
skull cap, an attire which he affected to give him an air of greater
gravity.
Soon after the appointed hour, laughter, the jingle of spurs, the clink
of armour sounded without, and the young Counts impetuously entered the
apartment.
William of Orange, to Duprès' secret satisfaction, was with his
brothers, but Count John was missing; in his place was a youth still in
dusty armour with a face fresh as a rose. Duprès knew him for Duke
Christopher, son of the Elector Palatine, and as this substitution upset
his calculations he demanded why Count John had not come?
"He was afraid of the Devil, Dominus," replied the young Duke, as they
all seated themselves, laughing, on the five chairs placed in a row
ready for them.
"As to that," replied Duprès coldly, "I would have Your Grace know that
I keep no such company. I associate with neither imps nor hell-hounds,
being no conjurer nor magician, as the vulgar may suppose, but a good
mathematician, alchemist, and astrologer, which are noble sciences and
have accomplished great marvels, as, notably, the brazen head of
Albertus Magnus—which could speak—the sphere of Archimedes, the dove of
Archytas, and the wheel of Vulcan. And for myself I have seen clay birds
that fly and iron insects that crawl."
With that he seated himself before the magic table, and the young
Princes, who had but a little while to spare before the evening
festivities called them, besought him to hasten.
The skryer looked at them over the crystal ball; they were pleasant to
see in their youth, their splendour, their comeliness and gaiety, as
princely and as fair a company as could well be brought together.
All were in their light armour with silk scarves and jewelled chains and
ladies' favours tied to their arms, save only William, who wore a suit
of green cloth of gold with pearl embroidery on the sleeves, a scarf of
violet, and a mantle of black velvet. He leaned forward, his elbow on
his knee, his dark face in his fine hand, looking at the skryer; at his
breast was a cluster of roses, and their perfume filled the small
chamber.
"Oh, ye great ones," thought Duprès, "what is before you but idleness,
luxury, and pomp? Wherefore should ye seek to know the future—your ways
are very clear set before you."
He asked one to lower the lamp, and Adolphus rose and pulled the string;
a dim, but clear, light now filled the chamber.
"I would have you notice, princely seigneurs," said Duprès, "that I am
not in communication with any but good angels; from the seven names of
God proceed seven angels, and from each letter of their names proceed
seven more angels—from the male letters, male angels; from the female
letters, female angels. And they are unable to speak anything but the
truth, coming as they do from God's footstool. They are to be regarded
with awe, humility, and reverence. Which of them will come, I know not,
but whoever it be, I beseech your friendly Graces to observe a decent
silence and a discreet behaviour."
He then set his elbows on the table, clasped his hands about his brow,
and gazed into the crystal. At first he beheld nothing but the gold
curtain which usually at first concealed the spirit world from his view,
and this remained for a while until he was beginning to fear that the
spirits would not come to-day, and that to satisfy these young men he
must resort to trickery, which was dangerous, difficult, and fatiguing.
Presently, however, the gold curtain was caught together and hurled into
the centre of the globe which changed to a luminous colour, like amber
with a light behind it, and began to throb and pulse with radiance, so
that Duprès looked into an immense distance of pure gold like the
strongest sunshine, troubled by changing, moving forms which seemed to
turn together, mingle, and then again separate.
The globe itself gave forth a strong glow, which illuminated the head
and face of the skryer as if he sat in front of a lamp, and rendered
pale by contrast the light hanging above him.
Adolphus pointed out this mysterious light to the others, and they leant
forward in a tense silence.
"I see," said Duprès, "two of the spirits, Volvangel and Kendrick—they
are walking together hand in hand."
"What is their appearance?" asked Duke Christopher.
"Volvangel wears a black suit of tabinet," replied the skryer, "a little
sword, and his hair falling down long, also slippers of a red colour;
the other angel is more fantastical and has a doublet of white satin cut
into points below the belt, and yellow hose."
"Methinks they lack dignity," said Count Louis, who had expected
something more strange and awe-inspiring; "surely these are bad spirits
or imps."
"They are good angels," returned Duprès coldly; "the ill angels have but
three letters in their names; but if Your Graces are not silent these
will not speak."
At this the young knights forbore, and the skryer continued to gaze into
the crystal which now appeared a ball of fire.
"They speak," he said; "they reprove the princely Counts for playing
with eternal mysteries in a spirit of lightness. Kendrick says, 'Is life
so long that you can be so careless of time? Be careful in your comings
and in your goings, lest you waste precious moments, and death come upon
you unawares, and snatch you away in your prime.' Volvangel says, 'Why
would you know the future? It is better not to draw the curtain.' And
now they fall to pieces as if they were of ashes, and there is no more
of them."
The globe was now radiating such intense light that though it was
motionless it appeared to spin in its place. Duke Christopher rose and
put out the lamp, but the chamber remained lit with a delicate, soft,
and flickering glow.
The skryer now appeared of an ashy paleness, drops of sweat stood on his
brow, his lips trembled. He spoke again in a hoarse and unnatural voice—
"Liliana has arisen; it is a female angel, very witty and wise—she is
coming into the room."
A broad beam of golden light projected from the globe and fell, like the
vast blade of a sword, against the dimmer light of the chamber.
"It is Liliana," repeated the skryer. "She runs about the room."
There was a moment's utter silence, then Adolphus unexpectedly cried
out—
"I see her! She wears a gown of flowered tabinet and yellow hair rolled
up in front and hanging long behind!"
"That is she," said Duprès. "She is standing now by the knee of His
Highness, and she bids him remember that the angels of God are more to
be believed than any priest or Pope."
"She fades!" cried Adolphus. "She changes into a wheel of fire—she
breaks—she goes!"
"She has returned to the crystal," said the skryer. "She asks what you
want of her?"
"Let us know the future," said Count Louis. "Let us know the fate of the
four who sit here—not from wanton curiosity or irreverent meddling in
matters beyond us—but that, with God's help, we may know how to shape
our lives as becomes men and Princes."
"She says," replied Duprès, in the same tense tone, "that it is best you
should not know, but she can answer your questions—one question to each
knight."
Adolphus spoke first—
"Shall I gain honour before I die?"
"The answer is—'Great honour.'"
"Who will our wives be?" asked Duke Christopher.
"The answer is—'All three shall die unwed.'"
Louis of Nassau, almost as pale as the skryer, raised his fair face as
he put his question—
"Will the House of Nassau endure, or fall into decay?"
"The answer is—'This House will endure as long as there are Princes on
earth.'"
William of Orange spoke now; it was the first word he had said since the
skryer had commenced—
"What manner of death shall we die?"
"Liliana says she may not tell, but that in the crystal will come
visions."
"Enough, enough," cried Adolphus, rising. "I will not meddle with these
matters——"
But the others caught him back to his seat.
"Hear it to the end," said Louis.
The strong beam had now disappeared from the globe, which burnt suddenly
dim with a sullen fire that lit the red table-cover and left the rest of
the room in darkness; the skryer now seemed to be in a trance or swoon,
he swayed to and fro the crystal, his face was blank as virgin paper,
his eyes like glass.
"I see blood," he muttered, "nothing but blood and black horses—and men.
It is a battle—the sun is setting—again the blood, there are four
knights trampled under the horses—one is taken from the mêlée and his
bones laid in holy ground. The other three disappear—there is search for
them, they are not found. They are all young. The blood and smoke
clears. I see trees, I see an older man, worn, grey, murdered—there is
great lamentation—and now the black curtain falls—falls."
All the light in the globe went out, and the skryer dropped forward
across the magic table. William sprang up, opened the door, and called
for lights.
A servant instantly brought a lamp.
Louis and Christopher were calmly in their places, but Adolphus had his
head bowed forward in his hands and was shuddering.
"Herr Jesus! I saw her!" he murmured. "A little maid—and is there a
bloody death for all of us?"
But William's serene laugh, the flood of light, the stir and move of
ordinary things about them swept away the sense of dread and mystery;
the skryer sighed, stirred from his stupor, and began packing up his
appliances. He did not seem disposed to speak and the knights did not
urge it; they severally left to change their armour, on which still lay
the dust of the tourney.
The Prince lingered last; he put a purse of thalers into Duprès' hand
and thanked him courteously.
"Seigneur," said the skryer with emotion, "I will tell no one but I will
tell you, who are a very prudent Prince, that those knights I saw slain
had the faces of your brothers—of Count Louis, Count Adolphus, and one
who is not here, and Duke Christopher."
"And the murdered man?" asked William, turning on him his powerful eyes.
"It was Your Highness," replied Duprès, bowing his head.
"All of us!" said the Prince lightly. "Was it John you saw, or
Henry—that third cavalier?"
"It was not His Grace, John, but one younger whom I have never seen."
"It was a fearful vision," said William, "and maybe it was but some
distempered fancy. Yet," he added, with sudden gravity, "if honour
called, the House of Nassau would make even the sacrifice you saw
prefigured."
He smiled at the skryer in the fashion which made all men his friends,
and hastened away to the festivals at the town hall.
Again the city belfries rocked with the ringing of the joy-bells, again
the summer night was lit with splendid illuminations, and all the sweet
languor of this rich season of the year was blended with the
magnificence of princely rejoicings.
The young grandee crossing the town square lifted his eyes to the stars
and gazed at those three which form a diamond sword in the heavens.