"Silly boy!" muttered the prelate. "Luis is always prattling with that girl. I thought better of the fair s.e.x till of late." He spoke these words as his eyes caught his page, chattering at the door with a dark-eyed Creole servant-maid of the De Solis family. Presently the bishop clapped his hands, and a domestic entered. "Send Luis to me."

When the page came up, the old man greeted him with a half-smile.

"Well, my son, I wish my chocolate to be brought me; I could not think of breaking off that long _tete-a-tete_ with Dolores, but this is past the proper time."

"Your Holiness will pardon me," said the lad; "Dolores brought you a present from the Donna de Solis; the lady sends her humble respects to your Holiness, and requests your acceptance of a large packet of very beautiful chocolate."

"I am much obliged to her," said the bishop; "did you express to the maiden my thanks?"

Luis bowed.

"Then, child, you may prepare me a cup of this chocolate, and bring it me at once."

"The Donna de Solis's chocolate?"

"Yes, my son, yes!"

When the boy had left the room, the old man clasped his hands with an expression of thankfulness.

"They are going to yield! This is a sign that they are desiring reconciliation."

Next day the cathedral was thronged with ladies. The service proceeded as usual, but the bishop was not present.

"How is the bishop?" was whispered from one lady to another, with conscious glances; till the query reached the ears of one of the canons who was at the door.

"His Holiness is very ill," he answered. "He has retired to the monastery of St. James."

"What is the matter with him?"

"He is suffering from severe pains internally."

"Has he seen a doctor?"

"Physicians have been sent for."

For eight days the good old prelate lingered in great suffering.

"Tell me," he asked very feebly; "tell me truly, what is my complaint?"

"Your Holiness has been poisoned," replied the physician.

The bishop turned his face to the wall. Some one whispered that he was dead, when he had been thus for some while. The dying man turned his face round, and said:

"Hush! I am praying for my poor sheep! May G.o.d pardon them." Then, after a pause: "I forgive them for having caused my death, most heartily. Poor sheep!"

And he died.

Since then there has been a proverb prevalent in Mexico: "Beware of tasting Chiapa chocolate."

Gage, the Dominican, did not remain long in Chiapa after the death of his patron: he seldom touched chocolate in that town unless quite certain of the friendship of those who offered it to him; and when he did leave, it was from fear of a fate like the bishop's,--he having incurred the anger of some of the ladies.

The cathedral presented the same scene as before; the prelate had laboured in vain, and chocolate was copiously drunk at his funeral.

THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE

"There are many ways," says Del Rio, "in which the Philosopher's Stone is made. Writers contest with each other which is the right way. Pauladamus opposes the opinion of Brachescus; Villanosa.n.u.s will have none of the mode of Trevisa.n.u.s. So one a.s.sails another, and all call each other foolish and ignorant." But however they may have disputed how to make it, no one succeeded in finding the right way, for no one knew where to look for it; and yet the Philosopher's Stone was before all their eyes to be enjoyed by all alike, but to be appropriated by none. This precious stone, which went by various names, the "Universal Elixir," the "Elixir of Life," the "Water of the Sun," was thought to procure to its happy discoverer and possessor riches innumerable, perpetual health, a life exempt from all maladies and cares and pains, and even in the opinion of some--immortality. It trans.m.u.ted lead into gold, gla.s.s into diamonds, it opened locks, it penetrated everywhere; it was the sovereign remedy to all disease, it was luminous in the darkest night. To fashion it--so the alchemists said--gold and lead, iron, antimony, vitriol, sulphur, mercury, a.r.s.enic, water, fire, earth, and air were needed; to these must be added the egg of a c.o.c.k, and the spittle of doves. Really, said one shrewd and satiric writer, it only wanted oil, vinegar, and salt, to make of it a salad.

Now the curious thing is--as we shall see in the sequel--the alchemists were not far out in their opinion. All these ingredients, or rather most of them--the c.o.c.k's egg and the dove's spittle only excepted--are to be found combined in the Philosopher's Stone, and only recent science has established this fact.

As the possessor of this stone was sure to be the most glorious, powerful, rich, and happy of mortals, as he could at will convert anything into gold, and enjoy all the pleasures of life, it is not surprising that the Philosopher's Stone was sought with eagerness. It was sought, but, as already said, never found, because the alchemists looked for it in just the place where it was _not_ to be found, in their crucibles. Medals were struck on which were inscribed "Per Sal, Sulphur, Mercurium, Fit Lapis Philosophorum," which was a simplification of the receipt. On the reverse stood, "Thou Alpha and Omega of Life, Hope and Resurrection after Death."

It was identified with Solomon's seal; it was called Orpha.n.u.s, the One and Only. It was thought at one time that the Emperor had it in his crown, this Orpha.n.u.s, and that it blazed like the sun at night; but the German emperors enjoyed so little prosperity that philosophers came to the conclusion that the stone in the imperial crown was something quite different; it brought ill-luck rather than good-fortune.

Zosimus, who lived in the beginning of the fifth century, is one of the first in Europe to describe the powers of this stone, and its capacity for making gold and silver. The alchemists pretended to derive their science from Shem, or Chem, the son of Noah, and that thence came the name al_chem_y, and _chem_istry. All writers upon alchemy triumphantly cite the story of the golden calf in the thirty-second chapter of Exodus, to prove that Moses was an adept, and could make or unmake gold at his pleasure. It is recorded that Moses was so wroth with the Israelites for their idolatry, "that he took the calf which they had made and burned it in the fire, and ground it to powder, and strewed it upon the water, and made the children of Israel drink of it." This, say the alchemists, he never could have done had he not been in possession of the Philosopher's Stone; by no other means could he have made the powder of gold float upon the water.

At Constantinople, in the fourth century, the trans.m.u.tation of metals was very generally believed in, and many treatises upon the subject appeared.

Langlet du Fresnoy, in his _History of Hermetic Philosophy_, gives some account of these works. The notion of the Greek writers seems to have been that all metals were composed of two ingredients, the one metallic matter, the other a red inflammable matter which they called sulphur. The pure union of these substances formed gold; but other metals were mixed with and contaminated by various foreign ingredients. The object of the Philosopher's Stone was to dissolve and expel these base ingredients, and so to liberate the two original const.i.tuents whose marriage produced gold.

For several centuries after this the pursuit flagged or slept in Europe, but it reappeared in the eighth century among the Arabians, and from them re-extended to Europe. We are not going to trace the history of alchemy _downwards_, and see one student after another wreck his genius and time on this rock, nor see what use was made of the belief in it by impostors to enrich themselves at the expense of the credulous--we will follow the superst.i.tion _upwards_, and track the stone to the spring of the belief in its supernatural powers. The search for the stone will take us through strange country, give us many scrambles; but, if the reader will condescend to accompany me, I believe I shall be able to bring him to the very real and original stone itself.

The following story I give as it was told to me by some Yorkshire mill la.s.ses, in their own delightful vernacular. I forewarn the reader that the golden ball in the story is the same as the Philosopher's Stone, as we shall hear presently:

"There were two la.s.ses, daughters of one mother, and as they came home from t' fair, they saw a right bonny young man stand i' t' house-door before them. He had gold on t' cap, gold on t' finger, gold on t' neck, a red gold watch-chain--eh! but he had bra.s.s. He had a golden ball in each hand.[24] He gave a ball to each la.s.s, and she was to keep it, and if she lost it, she was to be hanged. One o' t' la.s.ses, 'twas t' youngest, lost her ball. She was by a park-paling, and she tossed the ball, and it went up, up, and up, till it went over t' paling, and when she climbed to look, t' ball ran along green gra.s.s, and it went raite forward to t' door of t'

house, and t' ball went in, and she saw 't no more.

"So she was taken away to be hanged by t' neck till she were dead, acause she'd lost her ball.

["But she had a sweetheart, and he said he would get the ball. So he went to t' park-gate, but 'twas shut; so he climbed hedge, and when he got to t' top of hedge, an old woman rose up out o' t' d.y.k.e afore him, and said, if he would get ball, he must sleep three nights i' t' house. He said he would.

"Then he went into t' house, and looked for t' ball, but couldna find it.

Night came on, and he heard spirits move i' t' courtyard; so he looked out o' t' window, and t' yard was full of them, like maggots i' rotten meat.

"Presently he heard steps coming upstairs. He hid behind t' door, and was still as a mouse. Then in came a big giant five times as tall as he, and t' giant looked round, but did not see t' lad, so he went to t' window and bowed to look out; and as he bowed on his elbows to see spirits i' t'

yard, t' lad stepped behind him, and wi' one blow of his sword he cut him in twain, so that the top part of him fell in t' yard, and t' bottom part stood looking out o' t' window.

"There was a great cry from t' spirits when they saw half t' giant tumbling down to them, and they called out, 'There comes half our master, give us t' other half.'

"So the lad said, 'It's no use of thee, thou pair o' legs, standing aloan at window, so go join thy brother'; and he cast the bottom part of t'

giant after top part. Now when t' spirits had gotten all t' giant they was quiet.

"Next night t' lad was at the house again, and saw a second giant come in at door, and as he came in, t' lad cut him in twain; but the legs walked on to t' chimney and went up it. 'Go, get thee after thy legs,' said t'

lad to t' head, and he cast t' head up chimney too.

"The third night t' lad got into bed, and he heard spirits stirring under t' bed; and they had t' ball there, and they was casting it to and fro.