It was the afternoon of a bright summer day, and a grand tilting match
had been held on a piece of ground adjoining the park at St. James's.
All the world of the Capital had been admitted to the sight, and as
two or three foreign princes, amongst whom was the King of Denmark,
were present on the occasion, numbers of the grave citizens had left
their shops and counting-houses in London, and travelled to
Westminster to look on during the royal sports.
As soon as the games were over, the crowds dispersed; and, while some
sauntered through those parts of the park which were open to the
public, others hurried home to resume their more important affairs;
and in every thoroughfare, leading from Westminster to different parts
of the city, groups of men and women, in holiday attire, were seen
hastening on, some laughing and talking over the events of the
morning,--some with busy faces evidently considering the business they
were about to resume.
Amongst the rest, appeared a man of a very showy exterior, richly
clothed, and distinguished by a light and tripping step, though he was
far past even the middle age. He had a boy behind him carrying his
sword; his mustachio and hair, which, if one might judge by the
shrivelled state of his skin, and the long wrinkles round his eyes,
ought to have been grey some twenty years before, were now of a very
peculiar cast of black; and though his legs were thin as well as long,
his chest seemed full and powerful, owing, perhaps, the appearance of
swelling muscle which it displayed to a process as foreign to that of
nature, as the method he had employed to restore the swarthiness of
his hair.
While he was hurrying down the Strand--then a wide open road, flanked
on one side by the houses and gardens of the nobility--amidst a cloud
of dust which the manifold feet were raising from the dry and
unwatered ground, a young man, carrying in his hand a large fan and an
essence bottle, singled him out from the other persons who were
proceeding in the same direction, and pulled him gently by the cloak.
The man started and turned round, asking what the stranger wanted,
with a foreign accent, which by practised ears might have been
detected as assumed rather than natural.
"My mistress wishes to speak to you, sir," said the servant, "and will
thank you to step across the road to her."
"I am at her devotion," replied the person addressed, laying his hand
upon his heart; "which is your mistress, my friend?"
"That lady, sir, in the black mantle and mask," answered the serving
man; "she is waiting for you, you see, at the corner of the lane."
Now, the lady whom the man pointed out was of a very rotund make, and
though her dress was rich enough, yet there was a sad lack of grace in
the wearing of it. There were also several indescribable indications,
which clearly informed the beholder that she had passed what is called
the prime of life. Nevertheless, the smart gentleman, whom we have
described, seemed to value her attention fully as much as if she had
been the youngest and most graceful of the realm, and, with the same
dancing-master-like step with which he had been walking homeward, he
crossed the road at her invitation, and made her a profound bow.
"Come with me, come with me," said the masked lady; "I have a turn for
your hand which may be worth your while."
"Most happy shall I be, madam," replied the gentleman, with a stronger
foreign accent than ever, "to accompany you any where, and do my
little possible to serve you. But, perhaps you may be mistaken in your
humble servant?"
The lady burst out into a loud fit of laughter. "You can't cosen me,"
she cried. "Hark ye, master, and I'll whisper a secret word in your
ear which will show you that we know one another."
The gentleman bent down his head, heard what his fair companion had to
say, and then, turning again towards her, looked at her from head to
foot. "It can be no other," exclaimed he, at length, "than Mrs.
Turner!"
"Hush!" cried she, raising her finger, "I am not so indiscreet as to
mention any names. Come down the lane with me; there is a wherry
waiting; we will go down the river, and have some supper at my house.
I have an affair in hand, which may make a fortune for two if properly
managed, and I was even puzzling my brain, as I walked down the
Strand, to find a serviceable friend who had courage and wit enough to
carry through a delicate affair."
"I'm your man," replied the gentleman, in good plain English,
accompanying her down the lane, "and I can assure you, sweet woman,
that, since I have been attached to a Spanish Ambassador, I have had
many a curious operation to perform which required nice handling."
"I doubt it not,--I doubt it not, Weston," answered worthy Mrs.
Turner. "And so you have been attached to a Spanish Ambassador, have
you? That is the reason I have not seen you for so long, I suppose?"
"Did you not know," he asked, "that the Count de Taxis did me the
honour of appointing me his domestic perfumer, and carried me abroad
with him after he left England? I won the post by composing an odour
such as was never smelt by the nose of man before. It had the delicacy
of the violet, the power of the rose; and I combined with it a soft
ethereal essence which lulled the person who scented it into a soft
languor predisposing to love and repose."
"That's just the thing we may want, Master Weston," said the lady,
"for we have got to do with love, I assure you."
"Can I doubt it," cried Weston, "when you have a share in the
business?"
"Come, no nonsense, Master Weston," rejoined the lady; "this is a
serious affair, I can assure you, by which much may be gained or
lost."
"Do not call me Weston," replied her companion, in an imploring tone;
"I have abandoned that name long ago, as one casts off an old coat
when it is worn threadbare. There was a hole or two in it also, it
must be confessed; and I received a severe fright, which made me
tremble so that it shook me out of my name."
"Why, how was that? how was that?" asked Mrs. Turner; "you are a man
not easily alarmed."
"In general not," answered her companion, sinking his voice to a
whisper; "but I'll tell you what occurred. One day at an inn, where I
was lodging, I saw accidentally a young girl, an Italian, who had once
been in my service."
"I remember her quite well," replied Mrs. Turner, "and thought you had
parted with her to some nobleman."
"No, no, she parted from me," rejoined the charlatan, in the same low
tone, "and took some secrets of mine with her. Seeing her in the inn,
and thinking she was still with an old foolish knight, who had
maltreated me and carried her off from me, I took occasion to pass
through the kitchen as her dinner was preparing. I know not how it
was, but by this time she was in the service of one of the highest
ladies of the land. The broth that was intended for the maid, was
taken by the mistress; and a fit of illness came on, which the doctors
from Cambridge were fools enough to ascribe to poison. She recovered
in the end, but I was in a great fright, for you know how scandalous
the tongue of the world is; so, dropping the name of Weston, and
giving my hair another hue, I attached myself to the Count de Taxis,
and gave out that I had come to England with him."[4]
----------
[Footnote 4: The perfumer of the Count de Taxis is mentioned by
Arabella Stuart herself, in one of her letters to her uncle, the Earl
of Shrewsbury.]
----------
"And pray what may be your name now?" asked Mrs. Turner; "I must tutor
my lips not to call you Weston, I suppose."
"The name I took," replied the man, "was Dr. Foramen, out of honour to
a hole in my crucible, in which I once was fortunate enough to obtain
a small quantity of the powder of projection. But the fools here have
changed it at once into a vulgar English name, and call me Doctor
Foreman."
"Odds life!" cried Mrs. Turner; "are you the Doctor Foreman skilled in
magic and astrology, who lives just beyond the walls, by the Inns of
Court?"
"The same, sweet lady, the same," replied Weston, with a low bow; "and
a very pretty traffic I carry on, let me assure you."
"I'll better it--I'll better it," said Mrs. Turner; "but here we are
at the boat."
A very neat wherry was waiting, with a boatman well dressed, bearing
his badge upon his arm; and handing her in, Weston took his seat by
Mrs. Turner's side, while the boy who carried his sword, and the
lady's serving-man, sat in the stern behind them. The proximity of the
two latter personages prevented all private conversation, but the
lady, taking off her mask for the sake of the cool air, displayed what
had once been a very pretty face, and which still, considering her
age, was in a high state of preservation. Cutting rapidly over the
water, the boat stopped some short way before it reached the Tower;
and, being handed out with great gallantry by her companion, Mrs.
Turner led him through several narrow lanes to a small house, between
which and the public street was a little paved yard, with an elm-tree
growing in the midst of the smoke.
"This is my house now," said the lady; "and you see I, too, have
prospered in the world."
"I see, I see," answered Weston; "some friend who has become sensible
to your merits."
"Not alone that," replied the lady; "for though Sir Arthur Manwaring
bestowed the house upon me, I owe him little more. No, no, I have many
a good friend at Court, who, for the services I can render them, are
right liberal in their payments. But come in, come in, and take a
glass of Malmsey with me."
Thus saying, she led him up a long narrow flight of stairs, to a small
well-furnished sitting-room, in which was hung up a viol da gamba, and
several other musical instruments, while on the table lay one or two
books in velvet covers, which, when taken up, displayed to the curious
eye any other subjects than those which men might have supposed formed
the studies of the mistress of the mansion. One was a book of
canticles, very neatly written; another was a volume of meditations by
some pious divine; and a third was a still holier book, which it was
almost profanation to bring into such a place.
By the orders of his mistress, the serving-man fetched some wine and
sweetmeats upon a silver salver, and retired, closing the door. The
lady helped her guest, and took some wine herself, smacking her lips
at the flavour thereof with more unction than was quite seemly.
Weston, however, was intent upon his business; and, after he had half
drained the long measure with its twisted stalk, he set it down,
inquiring, "Now, sweet Mrs. Turner, what is this great affair?"
"I will tell you, I will tell you," said the lady, drawing her
high-backed chair nearer to him--"You must know--take some sweetmeats,
Weston--Doctor Foreman, I mean. You must know that there is a great
personage at the Court, of my own sex, and consequently one I am bound
to assist in the way of friendship, who is in a very lamentable
case--Fill your glass, Doctor, it will bear repeating. This lady is
the daughter of one of the King's great friends, and the niece of
another--"
"Hum!" cried Weston, laying his finger on the side of his nose; "Lady
Cranbourne?"
Mrs. Turner shook her head; "Wrong," she replied, "wrong; but not far
wrong either."
"I have it," said Weston,--"the Countess of Essex?"
"I name no names as yet," answered Mrs. Turner, with a look of
affected discretion; "but the lady I mentioned is young, beautiful,
and very unhappy, and consequently deserves the compassion and
charitable assistance of every one, both man and woman."
"She shall have it," said Weston, solemnly,--"if she be rich enough
to pay for it."
"That she is, beyond all manner of doubt," replied Mrs. Turner; "and
will pay well, too, I can assure you."
"Ay, but expound, expound," cried the charlatan; "what is her ailment?
We must know the disease before we can find a cure."
"Love!" said Mrs. Turner; "love! ay, and hate, too. She is in love
with an object who shows himself indifferent to her charms."
"The hard-hearted tiger!" exclaimed Weston; "we must soften him, Mrs.
Turner."
"That is the very point," replied the lady. "But her affliction is
greatly increased by her having a husband, to whom she was married in
her childhood, who has just returned to England, and to whom she must
go home in a few days, if something be not done to prevent it.'
"A perilous case," said Weston; "yet there is a remedy for all things.
Now, what does the lady require?"
Before Mrs. Turner could answer, a quick foot was heard running up the
stairs; and the next moment a maid servant, entering the room,
exclaimed, "Madam, madam, there's a lady must see you instantly!"
Mrs. Turner started up, crying, "Into the other room behind there!"
But while these words were still upon her tongue, another figure
presented itself at the door; and a lady with a large Spanish mantilla
over her shoulders, and the ordinary black velvet mask upon her face,
entered, with a step, hasty indeed, but full of grace, pausing
suddenly when she saw that there was a stranger in the room.
"Who is that?" she asked, in the tone of a princess, pointing to
Weston, with her hand still covered by a rich glove of red and gold.
"Did you not get my message?"
"No, madam," replied Mrs. Turner, in humble accents; "I have been out
all the morning. This is Doctor Foreman, madam, the famous physician
and astrologer."
"What, the man we were talking of?" cried the lady. "Oh, then I am
very glad it so falls out. You may leave the room, girl," she
continued, addressing Mrs. Turner's maid; "what stand you there for?"
The servant instantly retired and closed the door, at the imperious
mandate she received; and the lady, casting her mantilla on a chair,
withdrew the mask from her face, displaying to the admiring eyes of
Weston one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever beheld. The
complexion was clear and resplendent, every feature beautifully cut,
the large dark eyes shining like living diamonds, the parted lips
showing the pearly teeth beneath, the neck, the shoulders, and every
rounded limb, full of grace and loveliness; but there was a certain
contraction of the marble brow, and keenness, almost fierceness in the
sparkling eyes, which spoke too plainly the eager and passionate
spirit within that exquisite form. The charlatan had risen when she
entered; and she now turned her bright unblenched eye upon him,
scanning his features, as if she thought by them to discover whether
the man before her possessed, in reality, the powers which were
attributed to him. Weston, however, was finished in his trade; and he
replied to her glance with one as keen; and, after having remained in
silence for a moment, he said, "Perhaps, madam, I had better retire.
You may have business with Mistress Turner?"
"No; stay," replied the lady, thoughtfully; "I want you. Has this good
woman told you who I am?"
"No, madam," answered Weston; "she has never mentioned your name to
me. I have but this instant arrived."
"Do you know me, then?" demanded the lady, quickly.
"No," he answered, in a decided tone: "I never saw any one so
beautiful before!"
"Pshaw!" said the lady, with a smile; "what is the use of beauty? Are
you a foreigner?"
"The country of my birth," answered the charlatan, "is unknown; but I
have studied long in foreign universities, and may have a Spanish or
Italian accent."
"A very strong one of some kind--I know not what," replied the lady.
"Hark ye, sirrah! are you a true man, or an impostor?"
"My sublime art, madam, does not permit of my telling an untruth,"
rejoined Weston. "The moment I did so, I should lose all power and
knowledge. Do not think, madam, that the height of science can be
obtained by deep study alone. The mind must subject itself to certain
rules, fixed and decided, amongst which the telling truth upon all
points of art is the great fundamental. I may refuse to answer you, if
I will; but, if I do answer, the nicest judging eye must not be able
to discover one grain of deceit in all I say."
"Well, then," exclaimed the lady, "tell me under what misfortunes I
suffer, if you would have me believe you skilful as you pretend."
"First, madam, let me know your name," said the artful man; "that, at
least, I ought to be made acquainted with."
"No, no," answered she to whom he spoke, "that were half the history.
My name you shall know, if you satisfy me."
"This is hard," cried Weston, with assumed mortification; "you must
not tax science more than it can bear--I will speak as I believe,
however; though mind, I tell you beforehand, that I cannot be so sure
as if I knew your name, and the hour of your nativity. Madam, will you
let me see your hand?--the right hand, if you please; and you, Mrs.
Turner, in the meanwhile, ask my boy for my sand-glass and square."
The lady drew the glove from her fair and beautiful hand, and
stretched it out for the inspection of the charlatan, who gazed upon
the few lines in the soft and glossy palm with an air of apparently
deep consideration.
"Ha!" he cried, "I see you are under eighteen years of age."
"A good guess," said the lady. "What more?"
"We will wait a little," answered Weston. "I could say more even now,
but I would fain consult the sand first."
As he spoke, Mrs. Turner, who had left them, returned, bearing in her
hand a small glass box filled with very fine sand, and a flat silver
ruler, with a moveable limb at a right angle, which she delivered into
the hands of her male companion.
"Bless my heart, doctor," she cried; "I hope there is going to be no
magic. I cannot suffer magic in my house for any one."
"Nothing but natural magic, Mrs. Turner," replied the impostor, "which
is quite lawful. Every part of nature has its secrets, which it is the
province of science to discover, and also its sympathies with every
other part, from which sympathies, when revealed in one instance, we
gain a knowledge of all that affects other beings, sympathised with by
the object under our hands. Thus this common sand, when brought under
certain influences, displays its relationships to different parts of
creation; and especially, as it is fluctuating and unsteady, light,
and blown about by every gust of wind, exactly like the course of
human life, so does it bear a near affinity to human beings, and
discovers, when compelled, their fate and circumstances!"
The lady had listened with deep attention to every word of the
rigmarole which the man uttered; and the reader must not be surprised
at a wild, passionate, ill-educated, unprincipled girl of eighteen
years of age being deceived by visionary nonsense, which has convinced
the mind, ay, and disturbed the brain, of persons otherwise deserving
the name of sages and philosophers. The charlatan next took the sand,
smoothed it exactly in the glass box, seemed to look anxiously for
every irregularity, ascertained that it was of an equal height on
either side, and then drew, with the sharp end of a silver ruler,
several signs and figures round the edges, leaving a space vacant in
the middle.
"Now, madam," he said, "take this instrument, and write the first
letter of the christian and surname of any person you think fit. It
may be either your own, or that of some one else; but you must have a
very deep interest in that person."
The lady considered for a moment, and then wrote lightly in the sand
the letters R. C. Weston then took the glass box, and raised it gently
from side to side, suffering a part of the sand to roll over the
figures that had been drawn. He next gazed at the surface attentively;
and, setting the instrument down with a look of surprise and respect,
he took a step back and bowed low to the lady.
"Why, what is the matter now?" she exclaimed, emphatically.
"I did not know your Ladyship's high rank," he replied; "and I fear
what I have to say may offend you."
"No, no; speak what you have to say," she answered. "If it be true, I
shall find no offence."
"The geomantic science can never speak aught but truth," answered the
charlatan; "and by its rules I tell you, that you love where you ought
not, and love not where you ought."
"Ought!" cried the lady, with her cheek reddening. "Am I to have
constantly that hateful bond thrust upon me, contracted in my infancy,
when I was incapable of judging for myself?"
"I feared you would be offended, madam," said Weston, well pleased to
see the effect of his words, but affecting a tone of grief and
apprehension. "Nevertheless, I told you that I must speak the truth,
if I spoke at all."
"Well, well," she replied; "I deny not that it is the truth. So much
for the present--now for the future. Can you speak of that? Shall I be
successful in my love--whether it be right or wrong?"
"Oh, yes, my lady, never fear," said Mrs. Turner, in a coaxing tone;
"every woman who sets her heart upon it can be successful in her love
if she chooses. Men are not such coy creatures as we are."
"Hush, woman! let him speak," cried the Countess, imperiously; "I hate
such wheedling. I would know by his science what fate has in store."
Again Weston approached the table, and scanned the sandglass
earnestly. "Madam," he said, "I think you will obtain all that you
desire; but it will be with great difficulty, the most skilful
management, and with the assistance of many curious and important
arts. You see, madam, that the sand has rolled completely over the
name of Robert Carr."
"Robert Carr!" exclaimed the lady, almost with a shriek. "That name
was not written there!"
"Oh, yes, madam, it was," replied the impostor; "you only traced R. C,
but other hands than yours filled up the names at once for the eyes of
science. But, as I was saying, you see the sand has rolled over that
name; while your sign, which is here, remains clear and uneffaced,
showing that you may obtain great power over him. But you will
perceive, also, that between it and the house of fortune--I wish it to
be all clear to you--a wave has grown up, which threatens great
obstacles; while these two stars, signifying two skilful and attached
servants of your ladyship, I know not whom, remain powerful over the
object of your wishes. Here are two or three others, all more or less
powerful in their degree; and here your nearest relation stands strong
in opposition."
"My father!" cried the lady.
"But, at the same time, his co-ordinate looks favourable; and the sign
of another near relation is not adverse. But still, after all, these
two small stars, though seemingly very inferior, are, as you see, most
powerful for your purposes."
The lady had leaned her elbow on the table, and was covering her eyes
with her hand. "This is very extraordinary," she murmured; "if I had
even told the woman who it is. Have you anything more to say?" she
continued, aloud.
"Nothing, madam," he answered; "this is all that geomancy can tell me;
but if you think fit to come to my house to-night, and the stars be
out, as most likely they will, I can give you more information; and
can only say that, as far as my poor skill extends in any way, either
as astrologer or physician, skilled in many arts unknown in this
country, I am right willing to serve so beautiful and high a lady
until death."
"I will employ you, I will employ you," replied the lady; "and, if you
do serve me, you shall be rewarded beyond your hopes. Now, tell me,
whom do these two stars indicate?"
"I know not, madam," replied Weston; "but, certainly, they must be two
very skilful persons. Perhaps I may myself be one."
"Perhaps so," said the lady; "come to me to-night, good Mrs. Turner,
to Northampton House, just as the clock strikes nine; it will then be
growing dark, and we will away to the good doctor's house. There is
some gold for you. Hark! a word in your ear! Explain to him all I told
you--the name he has divined is but too true. Tell him--tell him! For
though, I know not why, I feel no shame in this matter, yet I would
fain some other lips began the tale."
Thus saying, she fastened the mask upon her face again, threw the
mantle over her shoulders, and left the room.
Mrs. Turner approached the casement, gazed out for a minute through
the dim lozenges of glass, and then, turning round to Weston, burst
into a low but merry laugh.