But this is nothing. "The highest power" is continually threatened; a prediction that, in the days of Queen Bess, would—we doubt not—have helped Raphael to the highest gibbet. Again Raphael turns the penny upon "our beloved Sovereign." In June, he says—
"I dare not fully enter into ALL the important significations of these positions and configurations. I sincerely pray that the health of our beloved Sovereign may be preserved, in which I am assured her subjects will universally join."
(Do we not behold Raphael on his bended knees, "sincerely praying," with the half-crown in his mouth?) In July, however, our prophet makes merchandize of the Queen's children.
"Saturn transits the place of the Sun in the nativity of the Princess Helena, producing a tendency to disease in the chest, &c., at the end of June and beginning of July. The 7th and 8th are evil days for the Prince of Wales, and the 19th for the Prince Arthur. Their attendants should carefully avoid accident."
These would have made very "evil days" for our prophet; evil as pillory and cart-whip could have shaped them. But we live in liberal times, and the Astrologer may turn his half-crown upon the probable diseased chest of the little Princess Helena, and the threatened dangers of Princes Albert and Arthur!
Mrs. Potts reads in August that "the King of Naples should beware of female intrigue, poison, or the assassin;" and—controlling her emotion—turns over to September, where she learns among other not impossible events that "great cruelty is displayed towards some female about the 27th." Mrs. Potts thinks October a little slow. "Public writers and scientific men are unsuccessful:" and what of that? "The fine arts prosper!" Bother the fine arts: and straightway Mrs. Potts passes to November, when
"Much excitement reigns throughout the land; the long talked of invading army may, under these influences, make its appearance, and ere many months 'the wolf will come.'"
With the intuitive calculation of woman, Mrs. Potts wonders where on earth she and Potts are to sleep, if the Russians—which, of course, is meant by the wolf—is quartered upon 'em?
But this is nothing to what is threatened in December. Mrs. Potts continues to read with—very naturally—increasing fear and amazement. Fear for Her Majesty the Queen, and amazement at things in general! "Heaven preserve!"—cries the prophet in ominous tones—"Heaven preserve the health of our Sovereign, and also of her people!"—ending with the new version of a Dead March, set after this fashion:—
"Dark and gloomy clouds hover over us; and I regret to add that during the year 1855 the significations are still fearfully evil. I cannot at present discover one ray of hope."