The Last of the Barons — Complete
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CHAPTER II. THE WOULD-BE IMPROVERS OF JOVE'S FOOTBALL, EARTH.--THE SADFATHER AND THE SAD CHILD.--THE FAIR RIVALS.
Adam Warner was at work on his crucible when the servitor commissionedto attend him opened the chamber door, and a man dressed in the blackgown of a student entered.
He approached the alchemist, and after surveying him for a moment in asilence that seemed not without contempt, said, "What, Master Warner,are you so wedded to your new studies that you have not a word to bestowon an old friend?"
Adam turned, and after peevishly gazing at the intruder a few moments,his face brightened up into recognition.
"En iterum!" he said. "Again, bold Robin Hilyard, and in a scholar'sgarb! Ha! doubtless thou hast learned ere this that peaceful studies dobest insure man's weal below, and art come to labour with me in the highcraft of mind-work!"
"Adam," quoth Hilyard, "ere I answer, tell me this: Thou with thyscience wouldst change the world: art thou a jot nearer to thy end?"
"Well-a-day," said poor Adam, "you know little what I have undergone.For danger to myself by rack and gibbet I say nought. Man's body isfair prey to cruelty, and what a king spares to-day the worm shall gnawto-morrow. But mine invention--my Eureka--look!" and stepping aside, helifted a cloth, and exhibited the mangled remains of the unhappy model.
"I am forbid to restore it," continued Adam, dolefully. "I must work dayand night to make gold, and the gold comes not; and my only change oftoil is when the queen bids me construct little puppet-boxes for herchildren! How, then, can I change the world? And thou," he added,doubtingly and eagerly--"thou, with thy plots and stratagem, and activedemagogy, thinkest thou that thou hast changed the world, or extractedone drop of evil out of the mixture of gall and hyssop which man is bornto drink?"
Hilyard was silent, and the two world-betterers--the philosopher and thedemagogue--gazed on each other, half in sympathy, half in contempt. Atlast Robin said,--
"Mine old friend, hope sustains us both; and in the wilderness we yetbehold the Pisgah! But to my business. Doubtless thou art permitted tovisit Henry in his prison."
"Not so," replied Adam; "and for the rest, since I now eat King Edward'sbread, and enjoy what they call his protection, ill would it beseem meto lend myself to plots against his throne."
"Ah, man, man, man," exclaimed Hilyard, bitterly, "thou art like all therest,--scholar or serf, the same slave; a king's smile bribes thee froma people's service!"
Before Adam could reply, a panel in the wainscot slid back and the baldhead of a friar peered into the room. "Son Adam," said the holy man,"I crave your company an instant, oro vestrem aurem;" and with thisabominable piece of Latinity the friar vanished.
With a resigned and mournful shrug of the shoulders, Adam walked acrossthe room, when Hilyard, arresting his progress, said, crossing himself,and in a subdued and fearful whisper, "Is not that Friar Bungey, thenotable magician?"
"Magician or not," answered Warner, with a lip of inexpressible contemptand a heavy sigh, "God pardon his mother for giving birth to sucha numskull!" and with this pious and charitable ejaculation Adamdisappeared in the adjoining chamber, appropriated to the friar.
"Hum," soliloquized Hilyard, "they say that Friar Bungey is employedby the witch duchess in everlasting diabolisms against her foes. A peepinto his den might suffice me for a stirring tale to the people."
No sooner did this daring desire arise than the hardy Robin resolved togratify it; and stealing on tiptoe along the wall, he peered cautiouslythrough the aperture made by the sliding panel. An enormous stuffedlizard hung from the ceiling, and various strange reptiles, dried intomummy, were ranged around, and glared at the spy with green glass eyes.A huge book lay open on a tripod stand, and a caldron seethed over aslow and dull fire. A sight yet more terrible presently awaited the rashbeholder.
"Adam," said the friar, laying his broad palm on the student's reluctantshoulders, "inter sapentes."
"Sapientes, brother," groaned Adam.
"That's the old form, Adam," quoth the friar, superciliously,--"sapentesis the last improvement. I say, between wise men there is no envy. Ournoble and puissant patroness, the Duchess of Bedford, hath committed tome a task that promiseth much profit. I have worked at it night and daystotis filibus."
"O man, what lingo speakest thou?--stotis filibus!"
"Tush, if it is not good Latin, it does as well, son Adam. I say I haveworked at it night and day, and it is now advanced eno' for experiment.But thou art going to sleep."
"Despatch! speak out! speak on!" said Adam, desperately,--"what is thyachievement?"
"See!" answered the friar, majestically; and drawing aside a black pall,he exhibited to the eyes of Adam, and to the more startled gaze of RobinHilyard, a pale, cadaverous, corpse-like image, of pigmy proportions,but with features moulded into a coarse caricature of the lordlycountenance of the Earl of Warwick.
"There," said the friar, complacently, and rubbing his hands, "that isno piece of bungling, eh? As like the stout earl as one pea to another."
"And for what hast thou kneaded up all this waste of wax?" asked Adam."Forsooth, I knew not you had so much of ingenious art; algates, the toyis somewhat ghastly."
"Ho, ho!" quoth the friar, laughing so as to show a set of jagged,discoloured fangs from ear to ear, "surely thou, who art so notable awizard and scholar, knowest for what purpose we image forth our enemies.Whatever the duchess inflicts upon this figure, the Earl of Warwick,whom it representeth, will feel through his bones and marrow,--wastewax, waste man!"
"Thou art a devil to do this thing, and a blockhead to think it, Omiserable friar!" exclaimed Adam, roused from all his gentleness.
"Ha!" cried the friar, no less vehemently, and his burly face purplewith passion, "dost thou think to bandy words with me? Wretch! I willset goblins to pinch thee black and blue! I will drag thee at night overall the jags of Mount Pepanon, at the tail of a mad nightmare! I willput aches in all thy bones, and the blood in thy veins shall run intosores and blotches. Am I not Friar Bungey? And what art thou?"
At these terrible denunciations, the sturdy Robin, though far lesssuperstitious than most of his contemporaries, was seized with atrembling from head to foot; and expecting to see goblins and imps startforth from the walls, he retired hastily from his hiding-place, and,without waiting for further commune with Warner, softly opened thechamber door and stole down the stairs. Adam, however, bore the stormunquailingly, and when the holy man paused to take breath, he saidcalmly,--
"Verily, if thou canst do these things, there must be secrets in Naturewhich I have not yet discovered. Howbeit, though thou art free to tryall thou canst against me, thy threats make it necessary that thiscommunication between us should be nailed up, and I shall so order."
The friar, who was ever in want of Adam's aid, either to construe a bitof Latin, or to help him in some chemical illusion, by no means relishedthis quiet retort; and holding out his huge hand to Adam, said, withaffected cordiality,--
"Pooh! we are brothers, and must not quarrel. I was over hot, and thoutoo provoking; but I honour and love thee, man,--let it pass. As forthis figure, doubtless we might pink it all over, and the earl be neverthe worse. But if our employers order these things and pay for them, wecunning men make profit by fools!"
"It is men like thee that bring shame on science," answered Adam,sternly; "and I will not listen to thee longer."
"Nay, but you must," said the friar, clutching Adam's robe, andconcealing his resentment by an affected grin. "Thou thinkest me a mereignoramus--ha! ha!--I think the same of thee. Why, man, thou hast neverstudied the parts of the human body, 1'11 swear."
"I'm no leech," said Adam. "Let me go."
"No, not yet. I will convict thee of ignorance. Thou dost not even knowwhere the liver is placed."
"I do," answered Adam, shortly; "but what then?"
"Thou dost?--I deny it. Here is a pin; stick it into this wax, man,where thou sayest the liver lies in the human frame."
Adam unsuspiciously
obeyed.
"Well! the liver is there, eh? Ah, but where are the lungs?"
"Why, here."
"And the midriff?"
"Here, certes."
"Right!--thou mayest go now," said the friar, dryly. Adam disappearedthrough the aperture, and closed the panel.
"Now I know where the lungs, midriff, and liver are," said the friarto himself, "I shall get on famously. 'T is a useful fellow, that, or Ishould have had him hanged long ago!"
Adam did not remark on his re-entrance that his visitor, Hilyard,had disappeared, and the philosopher was soon reimmersed in the fieryinterest of his thankless labours.
It might be an hour afterwards, when, wearied and exhausted by perpetualhope and perpetual disappointment, he flung himself on his seat; andthat deep sadness, which they who devote themselves in this noisyworld to wisdom and to truth alone can know, suffused his thoughts, andmurmured from his feverish lips.
"Oh, hard condition of my life!" groaned the sage,--"ever to strive,and never to accomplish. The sun sets and the sun rises upon my eternaltoils, and my age stands as distant from the goal as stood my youth!Fast, fast the mind is wearing out the frame, and my schemes have butwoven the ropes of sand, and my name shall be writ in water. Goldendreams of my young hope, where are ye? Methought once, that could Iobtain the grace of royalty, the ear of power, the command of wealth,my path to glory was made smooth and sure; I should become the grandinventor of my time and land; I should leave my lore a heritage andblessing wherever labour works to civilize the round globe. And now mylodging is a palace, royalty my patron; they give me gold at my desire;my wants no longer mar my leisure. Well, and for what? On condition thatI forego the sole task for which patronage, wealth, and leisure weredesired! There stands the broken iron, and there simmers the ore I am toturn to gold,--the iron worth more than all the gold, and the goldnever to be won! Poor, I was an inventor, a creator, the true magician;protected, patronized, enriched, I am but the alchemist, the bubble, thedupe or duper, the fool's fool. God, brace up my limbs! Let me escape!give me back my old dream, and die at least, if accomplishing nothing,hoping all!"
He rose as he spoke; he strode across the chamber with majestic step,with resolve upon his brow. He stopped short, for a sharp pain shotacross his heart. Premature age and the disease that labour brings wereat their work of decay within: the mind's excitement gave way to thebody's weakness, and he sank again upon his seat, breathing hard,gasping, pale, the icy damps upon his brow. Bubblingly seethed themolten metals, redly glowed the poisonous charcoal, the air of death washot within the chamber where the victim of royal will pandered to thedesire of gold. Terrible and eternal moral for Wisdom and for Avarice,for sages and for kings,--ever shall he who would be the maker of goldbreathe the air of death!
"Father," said the low and touching voice of one who had enteredunperceived, and who now threw her arms round Adam's neck, "Father, thouart ill, and sorely suffering--"
"At heart--yes, Sibyll. Give me thine arm; let us forth and taste thefresher air."
It was so seldom that Warner could be induced to quit his chamber, thatthese words almost startled Sibyll, and she looked anxiously in hisface, as she wiped the dews from his forehead.
"Yes--air--air!" repeated Adam, rising.
Sibyll placed his bonnet over his silvered locks, drew his gown moreclosely round him, and slowly and in silence they left the chamber, andtook their way across the court to the ramparts of the fortress-palace.
The day was calm and genial, with a low but fresh breeze stirring gentlythrough the warmth of noon. The father and child seated themselves onthe parapet, and saw, below, the gay and numerous vessels that glidedover the sparkling river, while the dark walls of Baynard's Castle,the adjoining bulwark and battlements of Montfichet, and the tallwatch-tower of Warwick's mighty mansion frowned in the distance againstthe soft blue sky. "There," said Adam, quietly, and pointing to thefeudal roofs, "there seems to rise power, and yonder (glancing to theriver), yonder seems to flow Genius! A century or so hence the wallsshall vanish, but the river shall roll on. Man makes the castle, andfounds the power,--God forms the river and creates the Genius. And yet,Sibyll, there may be streams as broad and stately as yonder Thames, thatflow afar in the waste, never seen, never heard by man. What profits theriver unmarked; what the genius never to be known?"
It was not a common thing with Adam Warner to be thus eloquent. Usuallysilent and absorbed, it was not his gift to moralize or declaim. Hissoul must be deeply moved before the profound and buried sentimentwithin it could escape into words.
Sibyll pressed her father's hand, and, though her own heart was veryheavy, she forced her lips to smile and her voice to soothe. Adaminterrupted her.
"Child, child, ye women know not what presses darkest and most bitterlyon the minds of men. You know not what it is to form out of immaterialthings some abstract but glorious object,--to worship, to serve it,to sacrifice to it, as on an altar, youth, health, hope, life,--andsuddenly in old age to see that the idol was a phantom, a mockery, ashadow laughing us to scorn, because we have sought to clasp it."
"Oh, yes, Father, women have known that illusion."
"What! Do they study?"
"No, Father, but they feel!"
"Feel! I comprehend thee not."
"As man's genius to him is woman's heart to her," answered Sibyll, herdark and deep eyes suffused with tears. "Doth not the heart create,invent? Doth it not dream? Doth it not form its idol out of air? Goethit not forth into the future, to prophesy to itself? And sooner orlater, in age or youth, doth it not wake at last, and see how it hathwasted its all on follies? Yes, Father, my heart can answer, when thygenius would complain."
"Sibyll," said Warner, roused and surprised, and gazing on herwistfully, "time flies apace. Till this hour I have thought of thee butas a child, an infant. Thy words disturb me now."
"Think not of them, then. Let me never add one grief to thine."
"Thou art brave and gay in thy silken sheen," said Adam, curiouslystroking down the rich, smooth stuff of Sibyll's tunic; "her grace theduchess is generous to us. Thou art surely happy here!"
"Happy!"
"Not happy!" exclaimed Adam, almost joyfully, "wouldst thou that we wereback once more in our desolate, ruined home?"
"Yes, ob, yes!--but rather away, far away, in some quiet village, somegreen nook; for the desolate, ruined home was not safe for thine oldage."
"I would we could escape, Sibyll," said Adam, earnestly, in a whisper,and with a kind of innocent cunning in his eye, "we and the poor Eureka!This palace is a prison-house to me. I will speak to the Lord Hastings,a man of great excellence, and gentle too. He is ever kind to us."
"No, no, Father, not to him," cried Sibyll, turning pale,--"let him notknow a word of what we would propose, nor whither we would fly."
"Child, he loves me, or why does he seek me so often, and sit and talknot?"
Sibyll pressed her clasped hands tightly to her bosom, but made noanswer; and while she was summoning courage to say something that seemedto oppress her thoughts with intolerable weight, a footstep soundedgently near, and the Lady of Bonville (then on a visit to the queen),unseen and unheard by the two, approached the spot. She paused, andgazed at Sibyll, at first haughtily; and then, as the deep sadness ofthat young face struck her softer feelings, and the pathetic picture offather and child, thus alone in their commune, made its pious and sweeteffect, the gaze changed from pride to compassion, and the lady saidcourteously,--
"Fair mistress, canst thou prefer this solitary scene to the gay companyabout to take the air in her grace's gilded barge?"
Sibyll looked up in surprise, not unmixed with fear. Never before hadthe great lady spoken to her thus gently. Adam, who seemed for a whilerestored to the actual life, saluted Katherine with simple dignity, andtook up the word,--
"Noble lady, whoever thou art, in thine old age, and thine hour of care,may thy child, like this poor girl, forsake all gayer comrades for aparent's side!"
&n
bsp; The answer touched the Lady of Bonville, and involuntarily she extendedher hand to Sibyll. With a swelling heart, Sibyll, as proud as herself,bent silently over that rival's hand. Katherine's marble cheek coloured,as she interpreted the girl's silence.
"Gentle sir," she said, after a short pause, "wilt thou permit me a fewwords with thy fair daughter? And if in aught, since thou speakest ofcare, Lord Warwick's sister can serve thee, prithee bid thy young maidenimpart it, as to a friend."
"Tell her, then, my Sibyll,--tell Lord Warwick's sister to ask the kingto give back to Adam Warner his poverty, his labour, and his hope," saidthe scholar, and his noble head sank gloomily on his bosom.
The Lady of Bonville, still holding Sibyll's hand, drew her a few pacesup the walk, and then she said suddenly, and with some of that bluntfrankness which belonged to her great brother, "Maiden, can there beconfidence between thee and me?"
"Of what nature, lady?"
Again Katherine blushed, but she felt the small hand she held tremble inher clasp, and was emboldened,--
"Maiden, thou mayst resent and marvel at my words; but when I had feweryears than thou, my father said, 'There are many carks in life which alittle truth could end.' So would I heed his lesson. William de Hastingshas followed thee with an homage that has broken, perchance, many aspure a heart,--nay, nay, fair child, hear me on. Thou hast heard that inyouth he wooed Katherine Nevile,--that we loved, and were severed.They who see us now marvel whether we hate or love,--no, not love--thatquestion were an insult to Lord Bonville's wife!--Ofttimes we seempitiless to each other,--why? Lord Hastings would have wooed me, anEnglish matron, to forget mine honour and my House's. He chafes that hemoves me not. I behold him debasing a great nature to unworthy triflingswith man's conscience and a knight's bright faith. But mark me!--theheart of Hastings is everlastingly mine, and mine alone! What seek I inthis confidence? To warn thee. Wherefore? Because for months, amidst allthe vices of this foul court-air, amidst the flatteries of the softestvoice that ever fell upon woman's ear, amidst, peradventure, thepleadings of thine own young and guileless love, thine innocence isunscathed. And therefore Katherine of Bonville may be the friend ofSibyll Warner."
However generous might be the true spirit of these words, it wasimpossible that they should not gall and humiliate the young andflattered beauty to whom they were addressed. They so wholly discardedall belief in the affection of Hastings for Sibyll; they so haughtilyarrogated the mastery over his heart; they so plainly implied that hissuit to the poor maiden was but a mockery or dishonour, that they madeeven the praise for virtue an affront to the delicate and chaste earon which they fell. And, therefore, the reader will not be astonished,though the Lady of Bonville certainly was, when Sibyll, drawing her handfrom Katherine's clasp, stopping short, and calmly folding her arms uponher bosom, said,--
"To what this tends, lady, I know not. The Lord Hastings is free tocarry his homage where he will. He has sought me,--not I Lord Hastings.And if to-morrow he offered me his hand, I would reject it, if I werenot convinced that the heart--"
"Damsel," interrupted the Lady Bonville, in amazed contempt, "the handof Lord Hastings! Look ye indeed so high, or has he so far paltered withyour credulous youth as to speak to you, the daughter of the alchemist,of marriage? If so, poor child, beware!
"I knew not," replied Sibyll, bitterly, "that Sibyll Warner was morebelow the state of Lord Hastings than Master Hastings was once below thestate of Lady Katherine Nevile."
"Thou art distraught with thy self-conceit," answered the dame,scornfully; and, losing all the compassion and friendly interest she hadbefore felt, "my rede is spoken,--reject it if thou wilt in pride. Ruethy folly thou wilt in shame!"
She drew her wimple round her face as she said these words, and,gathering up her long robe, swept slowly on.