It is not ink, cried Philip; it is the blood of Saint Januarius, and you have ruined me.
The vehemence of Philip’s exclamation, and the horror of his countenance, were too ridiculous to be withstood, and even the gravity of the grandfather was not proof against the laugh.
Hollah! friend John, cried the colonel, you have drawn a devil in the blood of a saint.
John demanded how long the saint had been dead; and the colonel answered at a guess, that it was not much more than a thousand years, but the monks could bring his blood to life again, when they had occasion for a vial of red ink.
You may make a laughing matter of it, said Philip, but I got it with considerable difficulty, and not at the price of red ink, assure yourself.
And what was the use of it, when you had got it, said the colonel?
Sir, replied poor Philip with much solemnity—It has various uses: it is a preservative against storms by sea or land; against thunder and lightning; it guards your house from fire, keeps off evil spirits, and prevents or cures diseases.
And so it may still, said the old gentleman, for the sight of John’s drawing brings to my recollection the famous recipe, which John De Gaddesden has bequeathed to us for those, who may be seized with that terrible disorder the small-pox, and I believe I can give it to you in his own, or very nearly his own, words—“after the eruption of the small pox, says that ancient and learned leech, cause the whole body of your patient to be wrapt in scarlet, or in any other red envelope, and command every thing about the couch of the sick person to be made red, for this will be found an excellent and speedy cure. It was in this manner, he adds, I treated the son of the noble King Edward the Second of England, when he had the small pox, and I cured him without leaving any marks.”—This being granted, my grandson’s performance, although not eminently meritorious for its art, may yet be turned to beneficial purposes, and Saint Januarius may share the credit of them with John De Gaddesden.
Philip, who perceived he was not likely to receive any redress, walked away to meditate in silence over the loss of his miraculous vial. John was called up to his mother’s apartment, and when there admitted, Betty was ordered to retire, and she addressed him as will be found in the following chapter.