The Printer's Devil

by Chico Kidd

  In the town ’tis so hot as to be sans comfort of any sort; the women fan themselves with little fans of paper or cloth and the streets do stink worse nor the jakes; the air is filled with flies of divers sorts, all the which do bite and sting; many folk have got the flux and I do doubt that the plague will come again, for ’tis a sickly year.

  There cometh relief only in the ringing of bells, the which is a very wondrous thing; I’d a thought such an exercise to sweat us worse nor walking in the streets; ’tis not like playing at Angel-beast for heavy toil; but the air in the ringing-chamber seemeth more sweet nor that outside.

  We oft are visited by one nor another of the College-youths, a band that heretofore hath held themselves aloof from the common run of ringers, thinking they are over grand for the likes of us; yet now they make themselves pleasant and extend invitations to some of our number, my self included, to join their society.

  Whether or no I shall do this I know not, for I take more delight in the company of those with whom I am wont to ring, and Catherine also; the College-youths have not invited her into their ranks (the which would be a great and merry jest were it to occur) for they believe this boy Kit be over-youthful for their number, though she be in truth one of the best of our ringers.

  None theless I did see no wrong in introducing my peal to them: Master Stedman’s peculiar production on five bells, they do call it, but this does not stop them from ringing it most Industriously. The poet I believe is wrong to say, Bene qui latuit bene vixit,3 for an we live obscure, so shall we die; only those that never did achieve any thing die so. Pride it may be on my part to say that my peal may out-live me; I’d liefer say, Exegi monumentum aere perennius; 4 but I never did believe pride to be a sin, nor even sin to be that which the Puritans do hold it, videlicet, every thing that brings pleasure to a man.

  3 He has lived well who has lived in obscurity (Ovid)

  Did I think I’d seen the last of Roger Southwell I was mistaken, for up he comes again at ringing-time; making speech an you’d not believe a thing ever happened, and dressed in a suit of very fine stuff (as Catherine. did tell me after, for myself I’d not know lawn from fustian without some one did tell me) with rings upon his fingers.

  For a man that had not touched a bell-rope these three months he did ring some Grandsire passing fine, but I was pleased to see his visage when that Francis Bullen did say, -Now we’ll ring Master Stedman’s composition, and did not try over hard to suppress a smile.

  Now as the ringing of changes is performed partly by the ear and partly by the eye, a man must needs fix his attention upon his fellow ringers to mark their ropes (the ear informs when to make a change, guiding the striking of the note true in its place according to time; the eye directeth the pull in the making of it); but a man’s eye-sight is such, that other things are also seen, in periphery, as ’twere; thus did I mark the expression on Roger’s face while we rung and found it wondrous strange; ’twas like unto a man having a revelation, and I did wonder the import on it. Nor did I think I’d wait a long time to find out, for whatsoever else Roger may be you’d never call him a close-mouthed man.

  He sate down beside me in the ale-house all so full of words he looked like to burst.

  -God give me wit, Fabian, he saith to me, but is it true that you did invent that peal?

  And I replied, -It is; and he stared at me awhile, and at Catherine (anent whom he’d spoke not a word); until he saw that I verily had not an idea why he should ask.

  -Marriage hath dulled your senses then, quoth he; Do you truly not know what you have wrought?

  -Roger, said I, you have not lost your talent for exasperation of a man; for pox sake tell me whereof you speak.

  And he shook his head and said, -Your peal, Fabian, your merry and ingenious little peal, it is naught less than a charm against the demon. Do you not feel it, feel th’air when you do ring it?

  And it did fit like unto a key in a lock, or a finger in a glove.

  -Ay, certes, said I, but I did not make the connection.

  -You make powerful magic, my friend, said Roger. You know that folk on a time did hold that the sound of bells did calm the winds and tempests?

  -Ay, what of it, I asked.

  -Do you also know aught of Ficinian magic?

  -Nay, said I.

  -Ah well, much of it hath but little power; there be better charms for most purposes; yet ’tis based upon music, the power of harmony. What you have done, Fabian, without even knowing it, is mix together two sorts of magic to make a third type more power-full than either, and mayhap we should name it, and call it Fabian magic. Thou art a very magus and never known it.

  -And indeed, said Catherine when I had done gaping at Roger, ’tis a magic that never was possible before, for we are only ringing changes now these forty years past. Close thy mouth, Fabian, thou lookst like a cod- fish.

  41 have built a monument longer-lasting than bronze 110

  -I drunk of my ale and said, So why is it yet in th’aire, an it be true, and my peal doth charm it?

  -’Tis not so potent, replied Roger, and for all that I do not believe this daemon will truly be laid until that I am in my grave. But you’ve shown me how I may keep it from me. I’ll build me a house, quoth he, a great house in the country; I’ll make it like unto a church, with a tower, and I’ll have vi bells in the tower, to ring your peal when soever the demon doth approach near, and another bell to chime me the hours of the day.

  - And how shall the bells ring, with only you to pull their ropes? asked Catherine.

  -Why, Kit, I am a magus, quoth Roger. I’ll make me a mechanical frame for to hang the bells in, and they shall ring at my pleasure. And I’ll charm them also, so there’s virtue in the very bells. I thank you, Fabian, and you too, little Kit-cat; have a care of your-selves, lest he turn on you his wrath, being thwarted of me.

  And he drained his mug, and clapped me on the shoulder, and departed the Inn; we followed his example but a short space thereafter, for my thoughts were in a moil anew. Truly Roger’s appearance is ever a mixed blessing at the most.

  -I am sore inclined to wish we’d never met with Roger Southwell, said Catherine as we walked homewards, and this sat with mine own thought. I would we could give him his lure, she added.

  -And how to do that? I asked. I know naught of his art, nor wish to.

  -Yet it seemeth that power hath come none the less; wouldst thou not use it?

  -Nay, quoth I, I’ll not meddle with such, it’s done me naught but ill.

  -Oh ay? said Catherine, you’d be yet a prentice, and unwed?

  -’Twas not that of which I spake, said I, I but think on the demon and such-like.

  -Ay, think on’t, she replied; Roger nominated it not twenty minutes since; what then shall we do when that it comes a-hunting, Fabian? Make us a ring o’ bells like Roger, or live in the church, an they’d give us sanctuary? Gods arse, man, he’d not ha’ warned us an he thought us safe.

  -Is this my lion-hearted Catherine, I asked. What is become of the maid that would spit in the demon’s eye an it came?

  And she sighed and said, -Well I’d ha’ told you soon enough, I carried my water to the doctor a sennight since.

  -Thou art with child? I said.

  -Ay, she replied.

  I forgot demon and all then and took her up in my arms.

  -O have a care, she cried, remember how I am dressed.

  -Then let’s to our bed, said I, desiring her more than ever I did ere then. Ille terrarum mihipraeter omnes angulus ridet.5

  What’s a man to think, when he is first to become a father? Strange indeed, for swiving is the most natural thing in the world; a man doeth it whensoever he can and thinks on’t more than that; indeed I’d lain with Catherine these many months and never known that she hath ceased to take of her potion; yet I feel proud, an I’d done some clever thing. How can this then be sin; ’tis against nature to term it such.

  Wherefore have we religion; only to take away such fleetin
g pleasure we have in this short life, it me

  5 That corner of the earth to me smiles sweetest of all (Horace)

  seemeth. I felt Catherine’s belly with my hand but she shows no swelling, she says it is two months gone. Can a man then swive with his wife when that she be big with child, or will that do harm? I’ve no inclination to find occupation with common cuts again; I never was a great mutton-monger.

  Now I do see how it is that a woman doth change in many ways her nature when that she be with child. Thus Catherine’s doubt of the demon is not for herself; she puts the child first in her mind; she’s not so ready to spend time a-working, nor ringing neither, nor as she had use to do, pricking out divers peals and the like; ’tis as well I suppose, we’ll not be able to disguise her no more in a few months.

  This day I determined to go to Richmond-town and visit that Nicholas Griffin that did aid me. For he being an herbalist will be able to give me some specific against Catherine’s becoming sick, for I hear a woman with child is wont to vomit in the morning-time. Indeed it may be that he can advise me in the matter of the demon, for ’twas he that did give to me the counsel I now do follow; put not thy trust in magic; for I do believe that Master Griffin be rather more nor a common pothecary.

  ’Tis entirely another matter to find the time to hie me thence, so I wrote a letter to that John Fletcher whom was known to my late master Daniel Pakeman and paid a messenger-boy to carry it thither.

  This Fletcher is a versifier of some sort that paid Master Pakeman to print up his poems; therefore I made bold to suggest him that he and Matthew Boys did meet; ’twas Matthew himself gave me this notion, he did tell me of a musical piece was writ by one Master Davenant and called the Siege of Rhodes, that was like unto a play save that much of the speech was not speech at all, but sung; ’Twas made into a moral piece to instruct folk so that the faithful-brothers should not call it sinful. This style of Masque, as ’twere, might make merry revelment when that we be rid on this Puritan rule and the play-houses opened up again; an any man can write such pretty airs then it be Matthew.

  Master Fletcher has took the dangled bait and I am gone to Richmond; he told me that in Italy and France these music-dramas hight Opera and even that here in England masques yet be put on stage, but in private houses and sans spectacle. He did describe to me a grand masque that he did witness some XX years since, that had a great procession upon horseback between Holborn and White-chapel; and showed me some writings by a wittaly whoreson instiled Prynne that ranted against such entertainment. I’d not have used such pamphlets to wipe my arse with.

  When that I was done with mine errand at John Fletcher’s I hied me down towards the river and the dwelling of Nicholas. Griffin, and bounced at his door.

  An he admired my advent he did not betray this by his countenance, merely bowed his head a whit and said, -Master Stedman, is’t not? You are come up i’the world an I mistake not.

  -Ay, I replied, I have a print-shop now and a wife withal, and am come for to repay you your kindnesses.

  -Well, there’s no call, said he, but I’ll not refuse you; and stood to one side to admit me.

  -There was one other thing I’d ask of you, I said.

  And Nicholas. Griffin said -Ay, so I did guess.

  -It’s two things, I added; one’s some specific for my wife to give her surcease of morning-sickness, and to ease the travel.

  -And th’other? he inquired.

  -’Tis a lengthy tale, said I, an you have the time ^ hear’t.

  -’Tis the reason you sought me out, quoth he; speak.

  And I did relate all that befell with the magic of Roger Southwell, although I did not speak his name.

  When that I was done he looked at me a rare long time, and then he sighed and said, -What a tale you tell; ’tis a hard chapter you have learned.

  -Have you then any counsel you can give? I asked.

  -I did tell you once, put not your trust in magic; that’s good counsel. Prayer too can aid a godly man; tho you have not the look of a man that’s over fond of the church, nor that calls much on God.

  -Can you then tell an heretic from the cut on’s garments? I said, ’Tis well that the priests cannot do likewise.

  And he made a smile that was no more than a little crooking of his mouth (as ’twere he did not wish to be overly amused) and said, -Not so; but most men drawn into such a moil of magic and meeting with demons would be a-down on their knees at the altar seven days in the week, in a muck-of-sweat betwixt God’s wrath and the devil’s magic.

  -I go to church for my duty and no more, I said, I do not ask help of the Puritans’ God.

  -Yet you ask it from me, said Nicholas Griffin. Do you believe I have more power nor the Lord?

  -You argue like unto a lawyer, I said.

  -Ah well, said he, I must needs be certain of you, do I endeavour to give you aid; I have mine own opinion of God and I’d give offence to a churchly man, most like. Mark you I do not deny God’s presence; ’tis simpler nor that; I merely misdoubt his concern for mankind.

  -Well then we be of one mind, said I; Heretics both, and due both for stretched necks an the Puritans do find us out.

  -Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly up-wards, quoth he (I did marvel that he quoted scripture); we’re all damned in their eyes for one nor another of the seven sins, all of which are but the nature of man.

  -So have I thought too, I exclaimed. That do we deny lust, gluttony and greed, we’ll never strive towards any end; we’ll lie down and the Puritans shall order our lives for us, grayness without end; nor art, nor music, nor pleasure; and then be cast down by their puling God for all of eternity. Well I’ll none of it. This life be sufficient, as the day be sufficient unto itself.

  -Well now, Master Stedman, quoth he, here’s my laboratory, for I am physician and apothecary both, as well as herbalist; here’s a rare collection of spagyrical remedies too.

  He walked halt to a dresser filled with little drawers, and showed me all the boxes and pots with all the names and figures of the drogues and simples that they contained painted on them, and books by Gerard and Culpeper and others.

  -You’ll know the place where Master Culpeper had his shop, said Nicholas Griffin, ’twas in Spittle-fields, in Red-Lyon-street; he dyed not iii years since, and did teach me much. See here, these herbs are all efficacious for women, being under the rule of Venus; mother-wort, arrach, plantago, May-weed, mug-wort, nep and pudding-grass; that’s good against sickness too; medlar and bistort both prevent abortion; juniper, bettony and the white lily help speed the delivery when she falls in labour. Balm and peony too, they’re good in childbed; celandine and dill can ease the pains; th’eringo’s a venereal plant; there’s rue and sanicle and even mulberries, and winter savory’s an excellent general specific; butterbur has his uses, and is even better mixed with zeodary or angelica; and bay, that’s also resistant to witchcraft. Vervain’s under the rule of Venus also, and it was named herba sacra by the Romans.

  Nicholas Griffin while he did speak, pounded divers of these dried herbs and powders together with a mortar and pestle, and poured the mixtures into papers.

  -This is for the hypermesis gravidorum, the sickness, quoth he; this to ease and strengthen the womb; and this to give her speedy delivery when she comes to her time; do you seethe a pinch in wine or ale and give it to her to drink. Probatum est. Do you concern yourself anent occupation?

  -Oh ay, said I, on a sudden blushing like unto a green girl.

  -’Tis well enough, he said, you may swive when it please you; you’ll not harm your wife, an you take care, nor the child neither; that’s an old-wife’s tale; they say also that excessive occupation maketh a woman barren, there’d be no folk in the world this day were that true. ’tis not a sin neither, but you’ll take no heed on that.

  -As for th’other matter, he said when that I’d taken the packets of powders from him, I’ll say this: the demon’s too close-tied to your magus to do over-much harm to any other, even you,
even your wife and your child; when he’s built him his house ‘twill be bound there, I’ll wager that. Till then, hyssop’s a good charm, the holy herb, and bay.

  -Asperges me hyssopo, et mundabor,6 said I.

  -You too can quote from scripture then, an it please you, quoth he.

  -Ay, for my father’s a sir-John and my brother also.

  Nicholas. Griffin returned to his listing of efficacious herbs so: -Berries of rowan; St-Johns-wort, instiled devil’s-flight; vervain, and rue, the herb of grace. They are all here in this paper; an you feel a threat do you throw a pinch of the powder in th’aire. Then a silver jewel for you and your wife, also, will give protection; you stand not in peril, nonetheless, I am sure on’t. All these plants are not magic, not in themselves; their virtue lies in that which they bring out in your own self; for no demon can prevail against an armoured heart.

  Straight from Nicholas. Griffin I found me a silversmith and did buy two rings of silver off him, and a little chain for our child to wear; and then I walked back to the river to find me a boat, well pleased with the day’s labour.

  The sun was in a haze but there blew a pleasant wind; the brown Thames-river seemed not so stinking as of late, in spite of the thick scum begriming it along the bank. There was an old Jack-raker a-scraping filth off the path into the water; he had not a tooth in his head and wore a greasy rat-skin cap over his ears. I passed a pair of mermaids outside a dirty hot-house; one opened her gown to show a neble, and spat at me as I went by.

  After that I’d gone by the whores I heard footsteps coming behind me very swift and with great haste and did turn with my hand ready on my sword-hilts; I beheld a mean filthy stinkerd with a wild staring eye; he passed me by in a reek of stale beer and I berated myself for a startle-cat. Nonetheless I kept my hand where it lay, and ’twas well I did so.

  I had found me a boat and was haggling with the waterman when I herd a voice speak my name; I turned around and an explosion split the air, a fiery breath passed by my face, the waterman cried out and staggered