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 had
played a part so conspicuous? But Wayland returned a confident answer.
He had employed the short interval they passed at Lidcote Hall in
transforming himself in a wonderful manner. His wild and overgrown
thicket of beard was now restrained to two small moustaches on the
upper lip, turned up in a military fashion. A tailor from the village
of Lidcote (well paid) had exerted his skill, under his customer's
directions, so as completely to alter Wayland's outward man, and take
off from his appearance almost twenty years of age. Formerly, besmeared
with soot and charcoal, overgrown with hair, and bent double with the
nature 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 of
Tressilian's livery, with a sword by his side and a buckler on his
shoulder, he looked like a gay ruffling serving-man, whose age might
be betwixt thirty and thirty-five, the very prime of human life.
His loutish, savage-looking demeanour seemed equally changed, into a
forward, sharp, and impudent alertness of look and action.
When challenged by Tressilian, who desired to know the cause of a
metamorphosis so singular and so absolute, Wayland only answered by
singing a stave from a comedy, which was then new, and was supposed,
among the more favourable judges, to augur some genius on the part of
the author. We are happy to preserve the couplet, which ran exactly
thus,--
“Ban, ban, ca Caliban--
Get a new master--Be a new man.”
Although Tressilian did not recollect the verses, yet they reminded
him that Wayland had once been a stage player, a circumstance which,
of itself, accounted indifferently well for the readiness with which
he could assume so total a change of personal appearance. The artist
himself was so confident of his disguise being completely changed, or
of his having completely changed his disguise, which may be the more
correct mode of speaking, that he regretted they were not to pass near
his old place of retreat.
“I could venture,” he said, “in my present dress, and with your
worship's backing, to face Master Justice Blindas, even on a day of
Quarter 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 the
string, and leave his granny and his dominie.--Ay, and the scathed
vault!” he said; “I would willingly have seen what havoc the explosion
of so much gunpowder has made among Doctor Demetrius Doboobie's retorts
and phials. I warrant me, my fame haunts the Vale of the Whitehorse long
after my body is rotten; and that many a lout ties up his horse, lays
down his silver groat, and pipes like a sailor whistling in a calm for
Wayland Smith to come and shoe his tit for him. But the horse will catch
the founders ere the smith answers the call.”
In this particular, indeed, Wayland proved a true prophet; and so easily
do fables rise, that an obscure tradition of his extraordinary practice
in farriery prevails in the Vale of Whitehorse even unto this day; and
neither the tradition of Alfred's Victory, nor of the celebrated Pusey
Horn, are better preserved in Berkshire than the wild legend of Wayland
Smith. [See Note 2, Legend of Wayland Smith.]
The haste of the travellers admitted their making no stay upon their
journey, save what the refreshment of the horses required; and as many
of the places through which they passed were under the influence of the
Earl of Leicester, or persons immediately dependent on him, they thought
it prudent to disguise their names and the purpose of their journey.
On such occasions the agency of Wayland Smith (by which name we shall
continue to distinguish the artist, though his real name was Lancelot
Wayland) was extremely serviceable. He seemed, indeed, to have a
pleasure in displaying the alertness with which he could baffle
investigation, and amuse himself by putting the curiosity of tapsters
and inn-keepers on a false scent. During the course of their brief
journey, three different and inconsistent reports were circulated by him
on their account--namely, first, that Tressilian was the Lord Deputy of
Ireland, come over in disguise to take the Queen's pleasure concerning
the great rebel Rory Oge MacCarthy MacMahon; secondly, that the said
Tressilian was an agent of Monsieur, coming to urge his suit to the
hand 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 various
inconveniences, and, in particular, the unnecessary degree of attention
to which they were subjected by the figments he thus circulated; but
he was pacified (for who could be proof against such an argument?) by
Wayland's assuring him that a general importance was attached to his own
(Tressilian's) striking presence, which rendered it necessary to give an
extraordinary reason for the rapidity and secrecy of his journey.
At length they approached the metropolis, where, owing to the more
general recourse of strangers, their appearance excited neither
observation nor inquiry, and finally they entered London itself.
It was Tressilian's purpose to go down directly to Deptford, where Lord
Sussex 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 somewhat
prolonged by the earnest entreaties of Wayland Smith, who desired
permission to take a walk through the city.
“Take thy sword and buckler, and follow me, then,” said Tressilian; “I
am about to walk myself, and we will go in company.”
This he said, because he was not altogether so secure of the fidelity
of 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 he
probably conjectured the motive, but only stipulated that his master
should enter the shops of such chemists or apothecaries as he should
point out, in walking through Fleet Street, and permit him to make some
necessary purchases. Tressilian agreed, and obeying the signal of his
attendant, walked successively into more than four or five shops, where
he observed that Wayland purchased in each only one single drug, in
various quantities. The medicines which he first asked for were readily
furnished, each in succession, but those which he afterwards required
were less easily supplied; and Tressilian observed that Wayland more
than once, to the surprise of the shopkeeper, returned the gum or herb
that was offered to him, and compelled him to exchange it for the right
sort, or else went on to seek it elsewhere. But one ingredient, in
particular, seemed almost impossible to be found. Some chemists plainly
admitted they had never seen it; others denied that such a drug existed,
excepting in the imagination of crazy alchemists; and most of them
attempted to satisfy their customer, by producing some substitute,
which, when rejected by Wayland, as not being what he had asked
for, they maintained possessed, in a superior degree, the self-same
qualities. In general they all displayed some curiosity concerning the
purpose for which he wanted it. One old, meagre chemist, to whom
the artist put the usual question, in terms which Tressilian neither
understood nor could recollect, answered frankly, there was none of that
drug in London, unless Yoglan the Jew chanced to have some of it upon
hand.
“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 work
without 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, you
shall, nevertheless, be well repaid by the use I will make of this rare
drug. Permit me,” he added, “to walk before you, for we are now to quit
the broad street and we will make double speed if I lead the way.”
Tressilian acquiesced, and, following the smith down a lane which turned
to the left hand towards the river, he found that his guide walked on
with great speed, and apparently perfect knowledge of the town, through
a labyrinth of by-streets, courts, and blind alleys, until at length
Wayland paused in the midst of a very narrow lane, the termination
of which showed a peep of the Thames looking misty and muddy, which
background was crossed saltierwise, as Mr. Mumblazen might have said, by
the masts of two lighters that lay waiting for the tide. The shop under
which he halted had not, as in modern days, a glazed window, but a
paltry 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 the
present day. A little old smock-faced man, the very reverse of a Jew in
complexion, for he was very soft-haired as well as beardless, appeared,
and with many courtesies asked Wayland what he pleased to want. He had
no 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,” said
Wayland; “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 a
chemist, and sell every drug.” So saying, he exhibited a powder, and
then continued, “But it will cost much moneys. Vat I ave cost its weight
in gold--ay, gold well-refined--I vill say six times. It comes from
Mount Sinai, where we had our blessed Law given forth, and the plant
blossoms 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 will
wager my sword and buckler against your gaberdine, that this trash you
offer me, instead of what I asked for, may be had for gathering any day
of the week in the castle ditch of Aleppo.”
“You are a rude man,” said the Jew; “and, besides, I ave no better than
that--or if I ave, I will not sell it without order of a physician, or
without you tell me vat you make of it.”
The artist made brief answer in a language of which Tressilian could not
understand a word, and which seemed to strike the Jew with the
utmost astonishment. He stared upon Wayland like one who has suddenly
recognized some mighty hero or dreaded potentate, in the person of an
unknown and unmarked stranger. “Holy Elias!” he exclaimed, when he had
recovered the first stunning effects of his surprise; and then passing
from his former suspicious and surly manner to the very extremity of
obsequiousness, he cringed low to the artist, and besought him to enter
his poor house, to bless his miserable threshold by crossing it.
“Vill you not taste a cup vith the poor Jew, Zacharias Yoglan?--Vill you
Tokay ave?--vill you Lachrymae taste?--vill you--”
“You offend in your proffers,” said Wayland; “minister to me in what I
require of you, and forbear further discourse.”
The rebuked Israelite took his bunch of keys, and opening with
circumspection a cabinet which seemed more strongly secured than the
other cases of drugs and medicines amongst which it stood, he drew out a
little secret drawer, having a glass lid, and containing a small portion
of a black powder. This he offered to Wayland, his manner conveying
the deepest devotion towards him, though an avaricious and jealous
expression, which seemed to grudge every grain of what his customer was
about to possess himself, disputed ground in his countenance with the
obsequious 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 not
escape the artist.
“They must be other than these,” said Wayland sternly. “Know you not
that 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 scales
beautifully mounted, and said, as he adjusted them for the artist's
use, “With these I do mine own experiment--one hair of the high-priest's
beard would turn them.”
“It suffices,” said the artist, and weighed out two drachms for himself
of the black powder, which he very carefully folded up, and put into his
pouch with the other drugs. He then demanded the price of the Jew, who
answered, shaking his head and bowing,--
“No price--no, nothing at all from such as you. But you will see the
poor 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 step
on the great road?”
“Hush!” said Wayland, laying his finger mysteriously on his mouth; “it
may be we shall meet again. Thou hast already the SCHAHMAJM, as thine
own Rabbis call it--the general creation; watch, therefore, and pray,
for thou must attain the knowledge of Alchahest Elixir Samech ere I
may commune further with thee.” Then returning with a slight nod the
reverential congees of the Jew, he walked gravely up the lane, followed
by his master, whose first observation on the scene he had just
witnessed 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! Had
it not been that I thought it might displease your worship, I would have
had an ounce or two of gold out of him, in exchange of the same just
weight of brick dust.”
“I advise you to practise no such knavery while waiting upon me,” said
Tressilian.
“Did I not say,” answered the artist, “that for that reason alone I
forbore him for the present?--Knavery, call you it? Why, yonder wretched
skeleton hath wealth sufficient to pave the whole lane he lives in with
dollars, and scarce miss them out of his own iron chest; yet he goes mad
after the philosopher's stone. And besides, he would have cheated a poor
serving-man, as he thought me at first, with trash that was not worth
a penny. Match for match, quoth the devil to the collier; if his false
medicine was worth my good crowns, my true brick dust is as well worth
his good gold.”
“It may be so, for aught I know,” said Tressilian, “in dealing amongst
Jews and apothecaries; but understand that to have such tricks of
legerdemain practised by one attending on me diminishes my honour, and
that 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 very
day, compound the true orvietan, that noble medicine which is so seldom
found genuine and effective within these realms of Europe, for want
of that most rare and precious drug which I got but now from Yoglan.”
[Orvietan, or Venice treacle, as it was sometimes called, was understood
to be a sovereign remedy against poison; and the reader must be
contented, for the time he peruses these pages, to hold the same
opinion, which was once universally received by the learned as well as
the 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 to
another.”
“Content you, sir,” said Wayland. “No man shall learn my secret; and
it would not be mine long, were I to buy all my materials from one
chemist.”
They now returned to their inn (the famous Bell-Savage); and while the
Lord Sussex's servant prepared the horses for their journey, Wayland,
obtaining from the cook the service of a mortar, shut himself up in
a private chamber, where he mixed, pounded, and amalgamated the drugs
which he had bought, each in its due proportion, with a readiness
and address that plainly showed him well practised in all the manual
operations of pharmacy.
By the time Wayland's electuary was prepared the horses were ready, and
a short hour's riding brought them to the present habitation of Lord
Sussex, an ancient house, called Sayes Court, near Deptford, which
had long pertained to a family of that name, but had for upwards of a
century been possessed by the ancient and honourable family of Evelyn.
The present representative of that ancient house took a deep interest
in the Earl of Sussex, and had willingly accommodated both him and his
numerous retinue in his hospitable mansion. Sayes Court was afterwards
the residence of the celebrated Mr. Evelyn, whose “Silva” is still the
manual of British planters; and whose life, manners, and principles, as
illustrated in his Memoirs, ought equally to be the manual of English
gentlemen.