"Will you walk into my parlour?" said the Spider to the fly:
"'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy."
One afternoon during that winter, as Lettice was coming down-stairs, her
sense of smell was all at once saluted by a strange odour, which did not
strike her as having any probable connection with Araby the blest, mixed
with slight curls of smoke suggestive of the idea that something was on
fire. But before she had done more than wonder what might be the
matter, a sound reached her from below, arguing equal astonishment and
disapproval on the part of Aunt Temperance.
"Northumberland, Cumberland, Westmoreland, and Durham!" was the
ejaculation of that lady. "Lad, art thou afire, or what ails thee?"
The answering laugh was in Aubrey's voice. "Why, Aunt!" said he, "is
this the first time you did ever see a man to drink Uppowoc?"
"`Drink up a work!'" exclaimed she. "What on earth--"
"Picielt," said he.
"Lettice, is that thou?" inquired Aunt Temperance. "Call Charity
quickly, and bid her run for the apothecary: this boy's gone mad."
A ringing peal of laughter from Aubrey was the answer. Lettice had come
far enough to see him now, and there he stood in the hall (his coat more
slashed and puffed than ever), and in his hand a long narrow tube of
silver, with a little bowl at the end, in which was something that sent
forth a great smoke and smell.
"Come, Aunt Temperance!" cried he. "Every gentleman in the land,
well-nigh, doth now drink the Indian weed. 'Tis called uppovoc,
picielt, petum [whence comes petunia], or tobago, and is sold for its
weight in silver; men pick out their biggest shillings to lay against
it, and 'tis held a favour for a gentlewoman to fill the pipe for her
servant [suitor]. I have heard say some will spend three or four
hundred a year after this manner, drinking it even at the table; and
they that refuse be thought peevish and ill company."
"And whither must we flee to get quit of it?" quoth she grimly.
"That cannot I say, Aunt. In France they have it, calling it Nicotine,
from one Nicot, that did first fetch it thither; 'twas one Ralph Lane
that brought it to England. Why, what think you? there are over six
thousand shops in and about London, where they deal in it now."
"Six thousand shops for that stinking stuff!"
"Oh, not for this alone. The apothecaries, grocers, and chandlers have
it, and in every tavern you shall find the pipe handed round, even
where, as in the meaner sort, it be made but of a walnut shell and a
straw. Why, Aunt, 'tis wondrous wholesome and healing for divers
diseases."
"Let's hear which of them."
"Well--migraines [headaches], colics, toothache, ague, colds,
obstructions through wind, and fits of the mother [hysterics]; gout,
epilepsy, and hydropsy [dropsy]. The brain, look you, being naturally
cold and wet, all hot and dry things must be good for it."
"I'd as soon have any of those divers distempers as _that_," solemnly
announced Aunt Temperance. "`Brain cold and wet!' when didst thou
handle thy brains, that thou shouldst know whether they be cold or not?"
"I do ensure you, Aunt, thus saith Dr Barclay, one of the first
physicians in London town, which useth this tobago for all these
diseases. He only saith 'tis not to be touched with food, or after it,
but must be took fasting. Moreover, it helps the digestion."
"It'll not help mine. And prithee, Mr Aubrey Louvaine, which of all
this list of disorders hast thou?"
"I, Aunt? Oh, I'm well enough."
"Dear heart! When I am well enough, I warrant you, I take no physic."
"Oh, but, Aunt, 'tis not physic only. 'Tis rare comforting and
soothing."
Aunt Temperance's face was a sight to see. She looked Aubrey over from
the crown of his head to his boots, till his face flushed red, though he
tried to laugh it away.
"Soothing!" said she in a long-drawn indescribable tone. "Lettice,
prithee tell me what year we be now in?"
"In the year of our Lord 1603, Aunt," said Lettice, trying not to laugh.
"Nay," answered she, "that cannot be: for my nephew, Aubrey Louvaine,
was born in the year of our Lord 1583, and he is yet, poor babe, in the
cradle, and needs rocking and hushing a-by-bye. S-o-o-t-h-i-n-g!" and
Aunt Temperance drew out the word in a long cry, for all the world like
a whining baby. "Lad, if you desire not the finest thrashing ever you
had yet, cast down that drivelling folly of a silver toy, and turn up
your sleeves and go to work like a man! When you lie abed ill of the
smallpox you may say you want soothing, and no sooner: and if I hear
such another word out of your mouth, I'll leather you while I can stand
over you."
Aunt Temperance marched to the parlour door, and flung it wide open.
"Madam," said she, "give me leave to introduce to your Ladyship the King
of Fools. I go forth to buy a cradle for him, and Edith, prithee run to
the kitchen and dress him some pap. He lacks soothing, Madam; and
having been brought so low as to seek it, poor fool, at the hands of the
evillest-smelling weed ever was plucked off a dunghill, I am moved to
crave your Ladyship's kindliness for him. Here's his rattle,"--and Aunt
Temperance held forth the silver pipe,--"which lacks but the bells to be
as rare a fool's staff as I have seen of a summer day.--Get thee in,
thou poor dizard dolt! [Note 1] to think that I should have to call
such a patch my cousin!"
Lady Louvaine sat, looking first at Aubrey and then at Temperance, as
though she marvelled what it all meant. Edith said, laughingly--
"Why, Aubrey, what hast thou done, my boy, so to vex thine aunt?" and
Faith, throwing down her work, rose and came to Aubrey.
"My darling! my poor little boy!" she cried, as a nurse might to a
child; but Faith's blandishment was real, while Temperance's was
mockery.
All Aunt Temperance's mocking, nevertheless, provoked Aubrey less than
his mother's reality. He flushed red again, and looked ready to weep,
had it been less unmanly. Temperance took care not to lose her chance.
"Ay, poor little boy!" said she. "Prithee, Faith, take him on thy lap
and cuddle him, and dandle him well, and sing him a song o' sixpence.
Oh, my little rogue, my pretty bird! well, then, it shall have a new
coral, it shall--Now, Madam, pray you look on this piece of wastry!
(Dear heart, but a fool and his money be soon parted!) What think you
'tis like?"
"Truly, my dear, that cannot I say," replied Lady Louvaine, looking at
the pipe as Temperance held it out: "but either that or somewhat else,
it strikes me, hath a marvellous ill savour."
"Ill savour, Madam!" cried Temperance. "Would you even such mean scents
as roses and lilies to this celestial odour? Truly, this must it be the
angels put in their pouncet-boxes. I am informed of my Lord of Tobago
here that all the gentlemen of the Court do use to perfume their velvets
with it."
"Well, I can tell you of two which so do," said Aubrey in a nettled
fashion--"my Lord of Northumberland and Sir Walter Raleigh: and you'll
not call them fools, Aunt Temperance."
"I'll give you a bit of advice, Mr Louvaine: and that is, not to lay
your week's wages out in wagers what I shall do. I call any man fool
that is given to folly: and as to this filthy business, I should scarce
stick at the King's Majesty himself."
"Nay, the King is clean contrary thereto," saith Aubrey, with a rather
unwilling air: "I hear of my Lord that he saith it soils the inward
parts of men with oily soot, and is loathsome to the eye, hateful to the
nose, harmful to the brain, dangerous to the lungs, counted effeminate
among the Indians themselves, and by the Spanish slaves called sauce for
Lutheran curs."
"Well, on my word!" cried Aunt Temperance. "And knowing this, thou
Lutheran cur, thou wilt yet soil thine inward parts with this oily
soot?"
"Oh, Aunt, every one so doth."