The House of Doctor Dee (21 page)

'Cause him to come up. No, wait. I will come down.' I wanted no stranger to see me at my work and, further, I much doubted who it was that enquired for me. I put on my gown and, with some trembling, went downstairs to greet him. Yet it was nothing but a spruce sprightly fellow, and I swallowed my fears as I approached him. 'You are welcome,' I said. 'How do you?'

'Well, sir, by God's grace.'

'And how might I call you?'

'Kelley, sir. Edward Kelley. For seven years I was apprenticed to Ferdinand Griffen, who often spoke of you.'

'I knew him well. I have not seen him these last twenty years, but there were many times he did me the turn of a good friend. How does he do?'

'He is dead, sir, of a cancer in the breast.'

'I am sorry to hear of it. Yet he must have been a pretty aged man.'

'True, sir, very true. But before he died, he begged me to make acquaintance with you.'

This Kelley was wearing a jerkin of well-padded leather and a short cloak in the Spanish fashion; now, as he was giving me this great courtesy, I could see the rain soaking into his apparel. 'Come dry yourself in my chamber,' I said to him. 'You are wet through. Philip, go fetch some more wood and make a good fire. Bring up a bushel of coals, too, so that Mr Kelley may thoroughly warm himself.' I invited him to climb the stairs and, as I followed him, I could smell strong drink upon his breath; he was a young man, no more than twenty-two or twenty-three years, of small stature and with a red beard cut like his cloak in the Spanish fashion. He had a great mane of red hair which, as I pressed close upon his heels, I could see to be oiled and perfumed. Here was a gallant gentleman indeed, yet for the sake of Ferdinand Griffen I was civil enough to him. 'Sit down beside the fire,' I said as I entered my chamber, 'and tell me of my old master in art.'

'He reverenced you, sir, as one of the order of Inspirati.'

'No, no, it is nothing. Nothing at all.' I did not want him to come too close to my pursuits. 'If it had not been for his faithful and diligent care, I would never have reached the first step in skill or power. There was never an untrue action, nor an imperfection, in any of his practices.'

'Yes, sir. Truly he was a great magician.'

'I did not say that,' I added hastily. 'Mr Griffen was a philosopher when I shared his lodgings and worked with him.'

'But many philosophers are certainly great magicians. Is that not so, Doctor Dee?'

I saw now that he was no mere roaring boy, and I suspected that he might be some agent sent to inform against me. 'I suppose that there may be some secret philosophy,' I continued, 'but, for me, it is a thing not in the air.'

'And a secret knowledge of nature?'

'Well, that may be, that may be.' Now I thought to test him, as Philip came up with the coals. 'But tell me, what was his work in these last days?'

He looked at me strangely. 'We had travelled to Glastonbury, sir, about a month ago.'

'Truly? Why so?'

'Oh...' He seemed unwilling to speak. 'There is a time when such things can be spoken of, but –'

This made me prick up my ears (as they say), but I resolved to keep my own counsel and await the occasion: I knew well enough that Glastonbury was the most ancient seat of learning in the entire kingdom, where, it is said, the giants who originally inhabited this realm had placed their secrets. 'You have come suddenly upon me,' I continued, smiling, 'but perhaps you will stay for a scholar's collation? It is plain food, but I hope you will take it in good part.'

'With all my heart, Doctor Dee. What do they say? Talk after meat is best?'

'Yes. That is what they say.'

And so we went down, where Philip was already preparing the board. My wife meantime was busy about the basins and towels, but gave acknowledgement to Mr Kelley's bow and answered his questions boldly enough. Yet it was all tittle-tattle, and soon I had endured enough of it. 'Rinse the glass, mistress,' I said to her, 'that I may taste the wine.' It was a Flemish grape, and somewhat sharp on the tongue; but I love bitter fruit, and supped it up willingly. 'How do you like this wine?' I asked our guest.

'I like it very well.'

My wife laughed at this, and I turned upon her. 'Why do you laugh, mistress?'

'Why? The face of our guest was plain to see when he tasted it. You are not a subtle fellow, Mr Kelley. You cannot deceive us that you like our wine.'

'No, madam, no. You imagine evil where there is only goodness.' He spoke in a railing sort, which seemed to please her. 'The wine delights me. It has a northern taste.' Philip and Audrey had now covered the table, and Kelley burst out with, 'Oh, sir, it is too much. There is as much meat as at a wedding.' I suspected then that he was no spy, or agent, but indeed what he claimed to be.

We took our places, and after I had spoken the grace we fell to the dishes.

'I pray you,' Mrs Dee said, 'I pray you, husband, cut a little of that powder-beef, the sight of which makes Mr Kelley long to eat, of it. Is that not true, sir?'

'Certainly, madam, it is true.'

'Or will you eat of this veal, sir? Or this leg of mutton?' Then she continued with the railing which he had begun. 'Yet I believe you are so fine that you cannot eat such gross meats. Is that not so?'

'I can eat anything if it be from your table.'

'Philip,' I said, 'give me your knife. This one is not sharp, and cuts nothing.' I was in an ill humour, since I cannot abide too much talk at dinner. 'The crust of this pie is too much baked,' I continued, looking at my wife opposite to me.

'No, no, it is well enough done,' she replied. 'But it is a great pity that the sauce is so run out. It is the fault of the baker: I wish that he had it in his own stomach.'

'Wife, have we nothing else?'

'Yes, husband. Perhaps Mr Kelley will try our shell-fish while he waits for the meat to be cut. Or will you try these smelts and eels? There is good Parmesan beside them, Mr Kelley, grated with sage and sugar in the London fashion.'

'In these cold days,' he replied, 'no food can be too hot, and the physicians say that there is nothing hotter than shell-fish. So I will eat them with a good grace, if it please you to serve them to me.'

I like to set a full table before strangers, even though I myself eat quickly and without any savour. For what is the lot of man but to hunger after that which he does not have, and distaste that which is set before him? The appetite is great, the practice meagre. 'Do not speak to me of physicians,' I said. 'They know nothing. Less than nothing. There are some fools who cannot have a fart awry but they must have their purgation pills or, if there is the least spot upon the face, then they must have a pill to curb hot blood. But not I. I do not wait at the door for the apothecary with his lozenges and antidotes.'

'Truly, Doctor Dee, you are wise in that.'

'What is there that an apothecary would have me know? That melancholy may be cured with sovereign hellebore, or choler with the rhubarb? Well, I will tell him this in turn, that the stone incurius takes away illusion from the eyes. These men traffic in nothing but flesh and blood, and other filthy merchandise.'

'Take the white of this boiled capon, Mr Kelley,' my wife broke in. 'Some beyond the sea marvel how Englishmen can eat their capons without oranges, but we should marvel more how they can eat their oranges without capons. Is that not true, husband?'

But I paid no heed to her, being still intent upon my own matter. 'And you must know, Mr Kelley, that I have learned how to minister to my own ills. Do you remember, wife, when sorrow came to my kidneys?' She seemed distracted, and said nothing at all. 'It was a great fit of the stone as I felt it, and all day, Mr Kelley, I could do but three or four drops of water. But I drank a draught of white wine and salet oil and, after that, I ate crab's eyes in powder with the bone in the carp's head. Then at about four of the clock I ate toasted cake buttered, with sugar and nutmeg upon it, but I also drank two great draughts of ale with it. And then do you know the effect? I voided within an hour all my water, together with a stone as big as an Alexander seed. So what would these physicians have me learn from them, when I know all?'

My wife looked at me, as I thought, with pity. 'Why, husband, I believe that you must have eaten that mutton, you speak so gross.'

'No, no,' said Kelley. 'It is a necessary lesson for those of us who are still haunted by apothecaries and chirurgeons.'

Then the two of them began prattling away on other matters while I sat silent, and regretted all that I had said. I would rather eat alone and fall upon my food like a dog: to watch others eat, and laugh, and say anything, is to observe how far removed we are from the spheres and stars. It is a terrible thing to be reminded of the flesh. 'I pray you see, mistress,' I said when I could endure no longer, 'that our guest has his towel. There are too few for us to clean ourselves.'

At that Edward Kelley made shift to rise, but my wife entreated me with a look. 'Let us not rise yet,' she said. 'Is it not good to sit a while after dinner? I wonder, Doctor Dee, if our guest knows the proverb:

After dinner sit a while,

After supper walk a mile?'

'I suppose,' I replied, 'that you have reason there.'

'Truly,' said Kelley, 'I am content to do anything that pleases you.

At that she clapped her hands. 'John, shall we have a song?'

He took up her theme. 'Yes, sir, a song is always a cause of content. It is a long day that has no grace note.'

What could I do but assent? 'The books of music are in my chest,' I said. 'Philip, take the keys from out of my closet. You will find them in a little till at the left hand.'

So our part-books were brought to the table, and within a few minutes they had taken their tune. I let them sing, though it was no more than the old ditty 'Remember Me As I Do Breathe', and I only joined in with the chorus:

'Deliver me out of this time,

Of rash mutability;

Set forth my song in rhyme

Of sacred permanency.'

After we had ended, I took Edward Kelley to my private chamber for more discourse. First I asked him why he had come to visit me. 'You have not lived obscurely, sir,' he answered, 'and for many years have acquired a good name and fame.'

'I am glad of it. But I am a modest astrologien –'

'No, sir, truly more than that.'

'Well, of course I must know the mechanics of astronomy as well as the rules of astrology –'

'And you have written of such things, in books that will endure as long as our language itself. But further than that, surely?'

'Further than that, I cannot say.'

'My late master –'

'If you mean Ferdinand Griffen, then he is our late master.'

'He spoke often of the trinity.'

'And what trinity is that?'

'The book, the scroll and the powder. And then he mentioned once the calls, or the entrance into the knowledge of the mystical tables.' I said nothing. 'And he taught me the principles of putrefaction, solution and sublimation.' Kelley got up from his chair and, going to my chamber window to look out at the marvellous storm of rain, he recited this to me: 'The art is within yourself, for you are the art. You are a part of that which you seek, for what is without is also within.'

'Go further, if you may.'

'Bring forth the water by which nothing can be made wet, then bathe the sun and the moon within it. When this is completed, breathe upon them and you will see two flowers spring forth, and out of these flowers one tree.'

'And what is your interpretation of this, Edward Kelley?'

'Nature pleases nature, sir. Nature conquers nature. Nature produces nature. This is the image of resurrection.'

I was much surprised by this, since he had uttered certain obscure words. 'Did you learn this by piece-meal?' I asked him then.

'No, sir.'

'So you speak it from art?'

'And from reason, which, as Mr Griffen taught me many times, is always the ground of art.' He turned around from the window, and looked me in the face. 'But as for the image of resurrection, what is your knowledge of it?'

The secret of the homunculus was not to be vouchsafed to him, no, nor to any man. 'It is a branch of nature's life. It is appointed for a time and a purpose, but I can tell you no more.'

'Nothing at all?'

'Some things are reserved for the ministry of seeing and hearing. To blab out secrets, sir, without leave or well-liking, is to do no good. No good at all.'

At that he burst into laughter. 'I was merely putting you to the test, sir, to see how close you kept your counsel.' This was sauciness indeed, and I was about to turn upon him in anger when he sat down again beside me on a joint-stool and said, very earnestly, 'For I have something of great moment to tell you.' Then he put his hand across his face, and I saw moisture like a dew upon his fingers.

'Are you sick?' I asked him.

'Yes, and of an evil sickness.'

I started back in my chair, fearful of any contagion. 'What has invaded you?'

'Lacking of money.'

He laughed again, but not so loud as I. 'Oh, take heed of that, Mr Kelley. Lacking of money is a pain which there is nothing like. I know it well.'

'That is why I have come to see you, Doctor Dee.' I was mightily interested, yet I endeavoured to give no sign. 'There was a time,' he said, looking into the fire, 'and that time not many hundred years past, when miracles were the only discourse and delight of men. That is truly why I have come, sir. To tell you of a miracle.'

'And what miracle may that be?'

'There was a gentleman who died no more than two months ago, whose name and dwelling-place I could deliver –'

'Come now. Be not so coy.'

'Did you know of a certain Bernard Ripley?'

'His name and reputation were known to me. He was a very grave and learned antiquary.' I put my gown around me, to ward off the dampness. 'I have his chronicles in my library here, in which he has demonstrated that the isles of Albion and Ireland should be called Brutanicae and not Britanicae, after their noble discoverer and conqueror Brutus. It was Ripley, also, who in his chronology of this island proved that Arthur, the descendant of Brutus, was the first true king of Britain. I did not know that he was dead.'