Page:Once a Week Volume 7.djvu/124

 116 “How do you account for that? But stay,” said Felton, interrupting himself; “we will inquire further when you have finished eating. We will not spoil a repast which you say is a sort of festival to you.”

The Wise Man was brightening every moment; and of the three he perhaps enjoyed most the rare wine which he brought out of an inner apartment of his cottage. He said he seldom touched wine; and thus he had some to produce on this singular occasion. He asked his guests, laughing, whether they were not afraid to pledge him; and they laughed in reply.

“I perceive you are not superstitious,” he observed, when the fish-bones were removed, and nuts were on the board with the wine; “but nearly all the world is in these days. This is the answer to the question you put just now—that before men’s minds were disturbed by a change of religion, their affairs and beliefs went on in a regular course, and their priests were their resource in all their perplexities. Since there have been two religions, or several, and men have either to judge for themselves or choose among various oracles, the growth of superstition has become remarkable.”

“You find it so?”

“Yes, indeed! If I encouraged the resort of the people to me, I might have more power, more repute, and infinitely more money than any priest, or preacher, or religious leader within a hundred miles round.”

“And why do you not? Nay; I meant no offence,” said Felton, perceiving that he had hurt his host’s feelings. “You spoke of using your knowledge for good, and I supposed that the more power you had the more good you would effect.”

“Not so,” replied the Wise Man. “The people come to me for charms; and if I explain that they are medicines, they at once conclude that I am ashamed of my charms, and beguiling them with false pretences. If I were to encourage all who would come to me, and to act upon them as it is in my power to do, we should see a worship of Satan set up by my means; and my will being against it would rather help than hinder. Another consequence would be, that I should be burnt alive; but that would be right if I had acted like a real priest of the Devil.”

“What, then, is your plan, if I may ask?” said Felton.

“I wish it to be known by those who will vouchsafe to attend to it. There are so many who revile me—as Dr. Pantlin will next Sunday—without dreaming that I may have a case to state, that I may well be thankful when young men like yourselves—men fixed in the old faith, and therefore composed enough in mind to do justice—ask for my own explanation of my plan of life. My first duty is to keep up my insight into human affairs—”

“Do you mean a preternatural insight?”

“Not preternatural, but, in regard to the condition of the general mind, premature, and therefore special. I religiously sustain my knowledge of what is happening, and must happen. This is my first duty; and next to it comes the secluding myself to the utmost from popular resort, for the reason I have given. After that comes the easy task of imparting, whether in the form of medical advice, or counsel about conduct, or information which may be useful.”

“Political information?”

“Political information among others.”

“How is it obtained from you?”

“Simply by asking. It rests with me to give or refuse it.”

“If I were to ask you what further adventures are in store for the lady now within the Castle walls yonder—”

“I should refuse to give it, because it is needless. It requires no magic to foretell that a princess so unhappy and so helpless from such causes can never seat herself firmly on a throne filled as the English throne is now; and that she could not reconcile parties at home; and that she would not even conceive of sustaining the honour and independence of England abroad.”

“I suppose that is true,” said Stansbury.

“But she cannot pass her life shut up in an English castle, with English courtiers for her gaolers,” said Felton.

“Can she not?” asked the Wise Man.

“Impossible! The Christian chivalry of England will not endure it.”

“The Christian chivalry of England may dare and do great things; yet this may not be one of the things that they can do. One may scale an impassable rock; another may bring stout heretics into the Church by a silken thread—”

“How applied?” asked Stansbury, looking up from his nuts.

“By the needle and shaping-board, and shears,” the Wise Man continued: “and the highest below the throne may sink himself into the common huntsman or angler—”

Stansbury laughed, saying:

“I was beginning to believe in your black art, friend; but your art breaks down under you. We are not noble,—my comrade and I.”

“You are squires from the next county: it takes no magic to know that much. And you are not the only anglers on the Dove.”

“Go on,” said Felton, in a voice which made his comrade look into his face.

“I will say no more,” replied the host. “If it is plain to calm observers that yonder princess and the English crown are not made for each other—”

“But that is past argument,” Felton asserted. “Her arms, her style, and title have always told another tale.”

“To what end? Inquiring of me of the future, you hear me say that the English throne is not for her, and why. So much of the Christian chivalry of the country as may stake its fortunes on a miracle should satisfy itself whether the days of miracles are past.”

“Who believes that?” exclaimed Stansbury. “Except myself, everybody seems to me to be steeped in superstition; so that a miracle being necessary to any enterprise may just now be rather a recommendation.”

“What you say is too true,” replied the Wise Man; “and, till the Church is settled, men will pray for miracles, and expect them: but Christian