CHAPTER XVI.
HOW SPED THE MASQUERADE.
It was at this time that the company at Epsom held their masquerade,the greatest assembly of the season, to which not only the visitors atthe Wells, but also the gentry from the country around, and many fromLondon, came; so that the inns and lodging-houses overflowed, and somewere fain to be content to find a bed over shops and in the mean housesof the lower sort. Nay, there were even many who put up tents on theDowns, and slept in them like soldiers on a campaign.
At other times my head would have been full of the coming festivity,but the confession of my lord and the uncertainty into which it threwmy spirits, prevented my paying that attention to the subject which itsimportance demanded.
"Kitty," cried Nancy, "I have talked to you for half an hour, andyou have not heard one word. Oh, how a girl is spoiled the momentshe falls in love! Don't start, my dear, nor blush, unless you like,because there is no one here but ourselves. As for that, all the placeknows that you and Lord Chudleigh are in love with each other, thoughPeggy Baker will have it that it is mostly on one side. 'My dear,'she said at the book-shop yesterday, 'the woman shows her passionin a manner which makes a heart of sensibility blush for her sex.'Don't get angry, Kitty, because I was there, and set her down as shedeserved. 'Dear me!' I said, 'we have not all of us the sensibility ofMiss Peggy Baker, who, if all reports are true, has had time to getover the passion she once exhibited for the handsome Lord Chudleigh.'Why, my dear, how can any one help seeing that the women are monstrousjealous, and my lord in so deep a quagmire of love, that nothing butthe marriage-ring (which cures the worst cases) can pull him out?"
I had, in verity, been thinking of my troubles, while Nancy wasthinking over her frocks. Now I roused myself and listened.
"My mother will go as the Queen of Sheba. She will wear a train overher hoop, a paper crown, a sceptre, and have two black boys to walkbehind her. That will show who she is. I am to go as Joan of Arc, witha sword in my hand, but not to wear it dangling at my side, lest itcause me to fall down: Peggy Baker will be Venus, the Goddess of Love.She will have a golden belt, and a little Cupid is to follow her withbow and arrows, which he is to shoot, or pretend to shoot, at thecompany. She will sprawl and languish in her most bewitching manner,the dear creature; but since she has failed with Lord Eardesley thereis nobody at Epsom good enough for her. I hear she goes very shortlyto Bath, where no doubt she will catch a nabob. I hope his liver andtemper will be good. Oh! and Mr. Stallabras will go as a Greek pastoralpoet, Theo something--I forget his name--with a lyre in one hand anda shepherd's crook in the other. Harry Temple is to go as Vulcan: youwill know him by his limp and by the hammer upon his shoulder. SirMiles wants to go as the God of Cards, but no one seems to know whothat Deity was. My father says he shall go as a plain English countrygentleman, because he sees so few among the company that the sight maydo them good."
I was going as the Goddess of Night, because I wanted to have an excusefor wearing a domino all the evening, most of the ladies throwingthem aside early in the night. My dress was a long black velvet hood,covering me from head to foot, without hoops, and my hair dressedlow, so that the hood could cover the head and be even pulled downover the face. At first I wanted my lord to find out by himself the_incognita_ who had resolved to address him; but he asked me to tellhim beforehand, and to be sure I could refuse him nothing.
The splendour of the lights was even greater than that at LordChudleigh's entertainment, when he lit up the lawn among the treeswith coloured oil lamps. Yet the scene lacked the awful contrast ofthe dark and gloomy wood behind, in which, as one retired to talk,the music seemed out of place, and the laughter of the gay throngimpertinent. Here was there no dark wood or shade of venerable treesto distract the thoughts from the gaiety of the moment, or sadden bya contrast of the long-lived forest with the transitory crowd whodanced beneath the branches, as careless as a cloud of midges on theriver-bank, born to buzz away their little hour, know hope, fear, andlove, feel pain, be cut off prematurely at their twentieth minute, orwear on to a green old age and die at the protracted term of sixtyminutes.
The Terrace and the New Parade were hung with festoons of colouredlamps. There must have been thousands of them in graceful archesfrom branch to branch: the doors of the Assembly Rooms had columnsand arches of coloured lamps set up beside and over them: therewere porches of coloured lamps; a temple of coloured lamps besidethe watch-house at the edge of the pond, where horns were stationedto play while the music rested: in the Rooms was, of course, to bedancing: and, which was the greatest attraction, there were amusementsof various kinds, almost as if one was at a country fair, without thecrowding of the rustics, the fighting with quarterstaves, the grinningthrough horse-collars, the climbing of greasy poles, and the shouting.I have always, since that evening, longed for the impossible, namely,a country fair without the country people. Why can we not have, all toourselves, and away from a noisy mob of ill-bred and rough people, theamusements of the fair, the stalls with the gingerbread, Richardson'sTheatre, with a piece addressed to eyes and ears of sensibility, awax-work, dancing and riding people, and clowns?
Here the presenters of the masquerade had not, it is true, providedall these amusements; but there were some: an Italian came to exhibitdancing puppets, called fantoccini; a conjurer promised to performtricks, and swallow red-hot coals, which is truly a most wonderfulfeat, and makes one believe in the power of magic, else how could thetender throat sustain the violence of the fire? a girl was to danceupon the tight-rope: and a sorcerer or magician or astrologer was to beseated in a grotto to tell the fortunes of all who chose to search intothe future.
Nothing could be gayer or more beautiful than the assemblage gatheredtogether beneath these lighted lamps or in the Assembly Rooms in theevening. Mrs. Esther was the only lady without some disguise; SirRobert, whose dress has been already sufficiently indicated, gave herhis arm for the evening. All the dresses were as Nancy told me. Iknew Venus by her golden cestus and her Cupid armed (he was, indeed,the milk-boy); and beneath the domino I could guess, without havingbeen told, that no other than Peggy Baker swam and languished. Surelyit is great presumption for a woman to call herself the Goddess ofBeauty. Harry Temple was fine as Vulcan, though he generally forgotto go lame: he bore a real blacksmith's hammer on his shoulder; but Iam certain that Vulcan never wore so modish a wig with so gallant atie behind. And his scowls, meant for me, were not out of keeping withhis character. Nancy Levett was the sweetest Joan of Arc ever seen,and skipped about, to the admiration of everybody, with a cuirassand a sword, although the real Joan, who was, I believe, a villagemaid, probably wore a stuff frock instead of Nancy's silk, and I daresay hoops were not in fashion in her days. Nor would she have lacemittens or silk shoes, but bare hands and wooden sandals. Nor wouldshe powder her hair and dress it up two feet high, but rather wearit plain, blown about by the winds, washed by the rain, and curlingas nature pleased. As for Mr. Stallabras, it did one good to see himas Theocritus, nose in air, shepherd's crook on shoulder, lyre inhand, in a splendid purple coat and wig newly combed and tied behind,illustrating the dignity and grandeur of genius. The Queen of Sheba'sblack pages (they were a loan from a lady in London) attracted generalattention. You knew her for a queen by her crown. There were, however,other queens, all of whom wore crowns; and it was difficult sometimesto know which queen was designed if you failed to notice the symbolwhich distinguished one from the other. Thus Queen Elizabeth ofEngland, who bore on a little flag the motto "_Dux faemina facti_,"was greatly indignant when Harry Temple mistook her for Cleopatra,whose asp was for the moment hidden. Yet so good a scholar ought tohave known, because Cleopatra ran away at Actium, and therefore couldnot carry such a motto, while Elizabeth conquered in the Channel.Then it was hard at first sight to distinguish between Julius Caesar,Hannibal, Timour the Tartar, Luther, Alfred, and Caractacus, becausethey were all dressed very much alike, save that Luther carried abook, Alfred a sceptre, Caesar a short sword, Timour a pike, Hannibala
marshal's _baton_, and Caractacus a bludgeon. The difficulties andmistakes, however, mattered little, because, when the first excitementof guessing a character was over, one forgot about the masqueradeand remembered the ball. Yet it was vexatious when a man had dressedcarefully for, say, Charles the First, to be mistaken for Don Quixoteor Euripides, who wore the same wigs.
I say nothing of the grotesque dresses with masks and artificial heads,introduced by some of the young Templars. They amused as such thingsdo, for a while, and until one became accustomed to them. Then theirpranks ceased to amuse. It is a power peculiar to man that he cancontinue to laugh at horse-play, buffoonery, and low humour for hours,while a woman is content to laugh for five minutes if she laughs atall. I believe that the admirers of those coarse and unfeeling books,"Tom Jones" and "Humphrey Clinker," are entirely men.
All the ladies began by wearing masks, and a few of the men. One ofthem personated a shepherd in lamentation for the loss of his mistress;that is to say, he wore ribbons of black and crimson tied in bowsabout his sleeve, and carried a pastoral hook decorated with the samecolours. In this character some of the company easily recognised LordChudleigh; and when he led out for the first minuet a tall, hoodedfigure, in black velvet, some thought they recognised Kitty Pleydell.
"But why is he in mourning?" asked Peggy Baker, who understood whatwas meant. "She cannot have denied him. He must have another mistressfor whom he has put on the black ribbons. Poor Kitty! we are all of ussorry for her. Yet pride still goes before a fall."
No one knew what was meant except Lord Chudleigh's partner, the figurein black velvet.
"I suppose," continued Peggy, alluding to the absence of my hoops,"that she wants to show how a woman would look without the aid of art.I call it, for my part, odious!"
After the minuet we left the dancers and walked beneath the lightedlamps on the Terrace. Presently the music ceased for a while, and thehorns outside began to play.
"Kitty," whispered my lord, "you used strange words the other night.Were they anything but a kind hope for the impossible? Could they meananything beyond an attempt to console a despairing man?"
"No," I replied. "They were more than a hope. But as yet I cannot saymore. Oh, my lord! let me enjoy a brief hour of happiness, if it shoulddie away and come to nothing."
I have said that part of the entertainment was a magician's cave. Wefound ourselves opposite the entrance of this place. People were goingin and coming out--or, more correctly, people were waiting outside fortheir turn to go in; and those who came out appeared either elatedbeyond measure with the prophecies they had heard, or depressed beyondmeasure. Some of the girls had tears in their eyes--they were thoseto whom he had denied a lover; some came out bounding and leapingwith joy--they were the maidens to whom he had promised a husband andchildren dear. Some of the young men came out with head erect andsmiling lips: I suppose the wizard had told them of fortune, honour,long life, health and love--things which every young man must greatlydesire. Some came out with angry frowns and lips set sternly, as ifresolved to meet adverse fortune with undaunted courage--which is, ofcourse, the only true method. But I fear the evening's happiness wasdestroyed for these luckless swains and nymphs: the lamps would growdim, the music lose its gladness, the wine its sparkle.
"Let us, my lord," I said, little thinking of what was to happen withinthe cave--"Let us, too, consult the oracle, and learn the future."
At first he refused, saying, gravely, that to inquire of wise menor wise women was the sin of Saul with the witch of Endor; thatwhatever might have happened in olden time, as in the case of theDelphic oracles or the High Places, where they came to inquire ofBaal or Moloch, there was now no voice from the outer world nor anycommunication from the stars, or from good spirits or from evil.
"Therefore," he said, "we waste our time, sweet Kitty, in idly askingquestions of this man, who knows no more than we know ourselves."
"Then," I asked, "let us go in curiosity, because I have never seen awizard, and I know not what he is like. You, I am sure, will keep mesafe from harm, whatever frightful creature he may be."
So, without thinking, I led the way to the Wizard's Cave.
It stood in the Parade, beneath the trees; at the door were assembled acrowd of the masqueraders, either waiting their turn or discussing thereply of the oracle; the entrance, before which was a heavy curtain,double, was guarded by a negro, armed with an immense cutlass, which heever and anon whirled round his head, the light falling on the brightsteel, so that it seemed like a ring of fire, behind which gleamed histwo eyes, as bright as a panther's eyes, and his teeth, as white aspolished ivory. The sight of him made some of the women retreat, andrefuse to go in at all.
The wise man received only one couple at a time: but when the pair thenwith him emerged, the negro stepped forward and beckoned to us, thoughit was not our turn to enter the cave. I observed that the last paircame out with downcast eyes. I think I am as free from superstition asany woman, yet I needs must remark, in spite of my lord's disbeliefin magic or astrology, that the unhappy young man whose fortune thiswizard told (an evil fortune, as was apparent from his face) ran awaywith the girl who was with him (an honest city merchant's daughter),and having got through his whole stock, took to the road, and waspresently caught, tried, sentenced, and hanged in chains on BagshotHeath, where those who please may go and see him. With such examplesbefore one it is hard not to believe in the conjurer and the wisewoman, just as a thousand instances might be alleged from any woman'sexperience to prove that it is unlucky to spill salt (without throwingsome over your left shoulder), or to dream of crying children, or tocross two knives upon a plate--with many other things which are betternot learned, would one wish to live a tranquil life.
What they called the Wizard's Cave was a little building constructedspecially for the occasion, of rude trunks of trees, laid one upon theother, the interstices filled up with moss, to imitate a hermitage ormonkish cell; a gloomy abode, consecrated to superstition and horridrites. The roof seemed to be made of thatch, but I think that was onlyan illusion produced by the red light of an oil-lamp, which hung in themiddle, and gave a soft and flickering, yet lurid light, around thehut. There also hung up beside the lamp, and on the right hand, theskin of a grisly crocodile, stuffed, the sight of which filled me witha dreadful apprehension, and made me, ever after, reflect on the signaladvantages possessed by those who dwell in a land where such monstersare unknown. A table stood in the middle, on which, to my horror, werethree grinning skulls in a row; and in each they had placed a lamp ofdifferent colours, so that through the eye-holes of one there came agreen, of another a red, and of the third a blue light, very horribleand diabolical to behold.
There was also a great book--doubtless the book of Fate--upon thetable. Behind it sat the Sage himself. He was a man with a big headcovered with grey hair, which hung down upon his shoulders longand unkempt, and with a tall mitre, which had mysterious charactersengraved over it, and between the letters what seemed in the dim lightto be flames and devils--the fit occupant of this abominable place. Hewore spectacles and a great Turkish beard, frightful and Saracenic ofaspect.
I thought of the witch of Endor, of those who practised divinations,and of the idolatrous practices on High Places and in groves, and Itrembled lest the fate of the Prophets of Baal might also be that ofthe profane inquirers. Outside, the music played and the couples weredancing.
The Wizard looked up as we stood before him. Behind the blue spectaclesand the great beard, even in the enormous head, I recognised nothingand suspected nothing; but when he spoke, and in deep sonorous tonescalled my companion by his name----
"Lord Chudleigh, what wilt thou inquire of the oracle?"----
Then indeed I turned giddy and faint, and should have fallen, but mylord caught me by the waist.
"Be soothed, Kitty," he whispered. "Here is nothing to fright us butthe mummery of a foolish masquerade or the roguery of a rascal quack.Calm yourself."
Alas! I feared no more the
crocodile, nor the horrid death's heads,nor the Turkish beard, nor the mitre painted with devils--if they weredevils. They disquieted me at first sight, it is true: but now was I indeadly terror, for I knew and feared the voice. It was no other thanthe voice of the Doctor, the Chaplain of the Fleet. For what trouble,what mischief, was he here?
Then I recovered, saying to myself: "Kitty, be firm. Resolve by neitheract nor word to do harm to thy lover. Consent not to any snare. Beresolute and alert."
Lord Chudleigh, seeing me thus composed, stepped forward to the tableand said--
"Sir Magician, Wizard, Conjurer, or whatever name best befits you, foryou and your pretended science I care not one jot, nor do I believebut that it is imposture and falsehood. Perhaps, however, you are butacting a part in the masquerade. But the young lady hath a desire tosee what you do, and to ask you a question or two."
"Your lordship must own that I know your name, in spite of your domino."
"Tut, tut! everybody here knows my name, whether I wear a domino ortake it off. That is nothing. You are probably one of the company indisguise."
"You doubt my power? Then, without your leave, my lord, permit me totell you a secret known to me, yourself, and one or two others only. Itis a secret which no one has yet whispered about; none of the companyat the Wells know it; it is a great secret: an important secret"--allthis time his voice kept growing deeper and deeper. "It is a secret ofthe darkest. Stay--this young lady, I think, knows it."
"For Heaven's sake----" I cried, but was interrupted by my lord.
"Tell me your secret," he said calmly. "Let us know this wonderfulsecret."
The Doctor leaned forward over the table and whispered in his ear a fewwords. Lord Chudleigh started back and gazed at him with dismay.
"So!" he cried; "it is already becoming town talk, is it?"
The Magician shook his head.
"Not so, my lord. No one knows it yet except the persons concerned init. No one will ever know it if your lordship so pleases. I told youbut to show the power of the Black Art."
"I wonder, then, how you know."
"The Wizard, by his Art, learns as much of the past as he desires toknow; he reads the present around him, still by aid of this greatArt; he can foretell the future, not by the gift of prophecy, but bystudying the stars."
"Tell me, then," said Lord Chudleigh, as if in desperation, "thefuture. Yet this is idle folly and imposture."
"That which is done"--the Sage opened the book and turned over thepages, speaking in low, deep tones--"cannot be undone, whatever yourlordship might ignorantly wish. That which is loved may still be loved.That which is hoped may yet come to pass."
"Is that all you have to say to me?"
"Is it not enough, my lord? Would any king's counsel or learnedserjeant give you greater comfort? Good-night. Leave, now, this younglady with me, alone."
"First read me the oracle of her future, as you have told me mine;though still, I say, this is folly and imposture."
The Magician gravely turned over his pages, without resenting thisimputation, and read, or seemed to read--
"Love shall arise from ashes of buried scorn: Joy from a hate in a summer morning born; When heart with heart and pulse with pulse shall beat, Farewell to the pain of the storm and the fear of the Fleet."
"Good heavens!" cried Lord Chudleigh, pressing his hand to hisforehead. "Am I dreaming? Are we mad?"
"Now, my lord," said the pretended Wizard, "go to the door; leave thisyoung lady with me. I have more to tell her for her own ears. She isquite safe. She is not the least afraid. At the smallest fright shewill cry aloud for your help. You will remain without the door, withinearshot."
"Yes," I murmured, terrified, yet resolute. "Leave me a few momentsalone. Let me hear what he has to say to me."
Then my lord left me alone with the Doctor.
When the heavy curtain fell before the door, the Wizard took off thegreat mitre and laughed silently and long, though I felt no cause formerriment.
"Confess, child," he said, "that I am an oracle of Dodona, a sacredoak. Lord Chudleigh is well and properly deceived. But we have littletime for speech. I came here, Kitty, to see you, and no one else. Byspecial messengers and information gained from letters, I learned,as I wrote to you (to my great joy), that this young lord is deeplyenamoured. You are already, it is true, in some sort--nay, in reality,his bride, though he knows it not. Yet I might waive my own dignity inthe matter, for the sake of thy happiness; and, if you like to wedhim, why, nothing is easier than to let him know that his Fleet wife isdead. They die of drink daily. Roger, my man, will swear what I tellhim to swear. This I have the less compunction in persuading him to do,because, in consequence of his horrid thieving, robbing, fighting, andblaspheming, his soul is already irretrievably lost, his conscienceseared with a hot iron, and his heart impenitent as the nethermillstone. Also the evidence of the marriage, the register, is in myhands, and may be kept or destroyed, as I please. Therefore it mattersnothing what this rogue may swear. I think, child, the best thing wouldbe to accept my lord's proposals; to let him know, through me, thathis former wife, whose name he knows not, is dead; he may be told, sothat he may remain ashamed of himself, and anxious to bury the thing insilence, that she died of gin. He would then be free to marry you; and,should he not redeem his promise and give you honourable marriage, itwill be time to reduce him to submission--with the register."
Shall I confess that, at the first blush, this proposal was welcometo me? It seemed so easy a relief from all our troubles. The supposeddeath of his wife, the destruction of the register--what could bebetter?
"Be under no fear," continued the Doctor, "of my fellow Roger. He daresnot speak. By Heaven! I have plenty to hang him with a dozen timesover, if I wished. He would murder me, if he dared, and would carry meup to Holborn Bridge, where I could be safely dropped into the FleetDitch; but he dares not try. Why, if he proclaimed this marriage onFleet Bridge (but that he dares not do), no one would believe it onhis word, such a reputation has he, while I have the register safelylocked up. Whereas, did they come forward to give evidence for me, atmy bidding, so clear is my case, and so abundant my proofs, that nocounsel could shake them."
This speech afforded me a little space wherein to collect my thoughts.Love makes a woman strong. Time was when I should have trembled beforethe Doctor's eyes, and obeyed him in the least particular. But now Ihad to consider another beside myself.
What I thought was this. Suppose the plot carried out, and myselfmarried to my lord again. There would be this dreadful story on mymind. I should not dare to own my relationship with this famous Doctor;I should be afraid lest my husband should find it out. I should beafraid of his getting on the scent, as children say; therefore I shouldbe obliged to hide all that part of my life which was spent in theFleet. Yet there were many persons--Mrs. Esther, Sir Miles, SolomonStallabras, beside my uncle--who knew all of it, except that onestory. Why, any day, any moment, a chance word, an idle recollection,might make my husband suspicious and jealous. Then farewell to all myhappiness! Better none at all than to have it snatched from me in thatway.
"There is a second plan," he went on. "We may tell him exactly who andwhat you are."
"Oh, sir!" I cried, "do nothing yet. Leave it all with me for alittle--I beg, I implore you! I love him, and he loves me. Should Iharm him, therefore, by deceiving him and marrying him, while I hidthe shameful story of the past? You cannot ask me to do that. I willnot do it. And should you, against my will, acquaint him with what hashappened, I swear that, out of the love I bear him, I will refuse anddeny all your allegations--yea, the very fact itself, with the registerand the evidence of those two rogues. Sir, which would the courtbelieve? the daughter of the Rev. Lawrence Pleydell, or the rascalrunner of a--of yourself?"
He said nothing. He looked surprised.
"No," I went on; "I will have no more deception. Every day I sufferremorse from my sin. There shall be no more. My mind, sir, is made up.I will confess t
o him everything. Not to-night; I cannot, to-night. Andthen, if he sends me away with hatred, I will never--never--stand inhis way; I will be as one dead."
"This," said the Doctor, "it is to be young and to be in love. I wasonce like that myself. Go, child; thou shalt hear from me again."
He put on his mitre and beckoned me to the door. I went out withoutanother word. Without stood a crowd, including Peggy Baker.
"Oh!" she cried. "She looks frightened, yet exulting. Dear MissPleydell, I hope he prophesied great things for you! A title perhaps,an estate in the country, a young and handsome lover, as generous as heis constant. But we know the course of true love never----"
Here my lord took my hand and led me away from the throng. Another pairwent in, and the great negro before the door began again to flash hiscutlass in the lights, to show his white teeth, and to turn those whiteeyes about which looked so fierce and terrible.
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