The Baroque Cycle - The System Of The World Part 31

Sophie nodded at the gate, then looked up at Caroline with a kind of lopsided sneer: half of her face pleading, the other half sagging and vacant. Caroline reached out for the handle of the gate. At the same moment that the cold wet iron touched her skin she knew that Sophie had suffered a stroke. For this was not the first half-paralyzed face Caroline had ever seen. The symptoms were more difficult to recognize in a face she knew so well and loved so much. For a moment she froze with a hand on the gate-latch, as if some spell had turned her own flesh to cold iron. She ought to go for help, to find the doctors.

But then Sophie did something telling, which was that she looked up and down the garden path, and she did it furtively. This from someone who had never been furtive in her life.

Sophie could not speak and could hardly stand up, but she knew what was happening. She was afraid of being seen. Afraid of being rushed to the Palace, bled by the surgeons, pitied to her face and mocked behind her back. Her instinct was to hie to the deepest and darkest part of the garden and to die there.

Caroline shoved the gate open and they stepped into the dark.

The Teufelsbaum was a curiosity that Sophie had brought back from the family holdings in the Harz Mountains: a worthless tree that crawled along the ground and climbed up things, with all the ma.s.s and might of a great tree, but the writhing habit of a vine, enclosing other things and growing round them. Its boughs twisted round and divided and forked and kinked bizarrely. The bends looked something like elbows and knees, and the smooth bark and sinewy shape of the wood made the whole thing look like unidentifiable limbs of strange animals, melted into one another. The woodcutters of the Harz hated it, and cut it back wherever they could, but here Sophie had given it leave to spread. Now the Teufelsbaum returned the favor by embracing Sophie and Caroline in its sinuous arms. Caroline settled Sophie down in a crook of the tree, up off the cold ground, and then sat on a flat place and cradled Sophie's head in her lap. The rain-shower had now abated somewhat, or perhaps the leaves gentled it. Time became stretched and immeasurable as they listened to the rain, Caroline stroking Sophie's white hair, and holding the one hand that had not lost its power to grip back. But the garden was a place of quiet and of relaxation. Presently Sophie relaxed her grip on Caroline's hand, and on the world.

Caroline had a long list of questions she had been meaning to ask Sophie, concerning how to be a Queen. She could have asked them there under the Teufelsbaum, but it would have been tactless, and Sophie would not have been able to answer.

Or rather she couldn't have answered with words. Her true answer, the one that mattered, had been arranged long in advance: it was this moment and this place. Sophie's dying here was the last thing she said to Caroline.

"I am the Princess of Wales," Caroline said. She said it to herself.

Westminster Palace 11 JUNE 1714.

Resolved, Nemine contradicente, that the House doth agree with the Committee in the said Resolution, That a Reward be settled by Parliament upon such Person or Persons as shall discover a more certain and practicable Method of ascertaining the Longitude, than any yet in Practice; and the said Reward be proportioned to the Degree of Exactness to which the said Method shall Reach. that the House doth agree with the Committee in the said Resolution, That a Reward be settled by Parliament upon such Person or Persons as shall discover a more certain and practicable Method of ascertaining the Longitude, than any yet in Practice; and the said Reward be proportioned to the Degree of Exactness to which the said Method shall Reach.-Journals of the House of Commons, VENERIS, 11 DIE JUNII; ANNO 13 ANNAE REGINAE, 1714 ANNO 13 ANNAE REGINAE, 1714 IN W WESTMINSTER, A H HALL darkened Thames- darkened Thames- bank, like a load of gloaming spilt by a sloppy sky-G.o.d during the primordial rush to raise the vault of the stars. Efforts had been made to pretty it up, or at least screen it behind new work. The marshes from which it had upheaved had been filled and flattened to support the Hall's contagions and encrustations. Some of these were styled as minsters, some as forts, others as houses-all mere words, since none was ever put to its builders' purpose. A man debarking on that Bank and tunneling into the Pile, if he had a compa.s.s, and became not a-mazed in the gaudy labyrinth of out-buildings, might penetrate to the Hall.

It was empty. Oh, law-courts, screened behind plank barricades, had colonized the southern corners, and shop-stalls ran like baseboards along the sides, so that the persons who came and went through the emptiness could buy books, gloves, snuff, and hats. But these only pointed to the problematic immensity of the Hall; for what was the point of putting up a building so large that it could not be used until smaller buildings were erected within it? The carven angels at the ends of the out-thrust hammer-beams looked out on a tub of gray s.p.a.ce. The bareness of the place, the splintery time-stained reach of its roof-timbers, betrayed it as a somewhat oversized Dark Ages Viking-Hall. Beowulf could have strode in to the place at any moment and called for a horn of mead. He would have felt and looked more at home there than any of the periwigged Persons of Quality who darted across its stone floor, nervously, like stoats trying to make it across a darkling sandbar before owls could stoop on them. The smaller buildings huddled against Westminster Hall, stealing integrity from its flying b.u.t.tresses, were better suited for plots, machinations, skullduggery, and arcane rites: the timeless occupations of men. So into the peripheral warrens they scurried, abandoning the hall to those bleak angels.

If this grave void at the heart of Westminster had any purpose, it was like the empty chamber that made up most of a violincello. The strings, bridge, bow, and the player itself were all to the outside. Nothing moved, nothing happened in the dark cavity; yet none of it would work unless it were built around a central emptiness that held the parts in their proper relation to one another, and withstood the relentless pulling of the strings while sympathizing with their tiniest stirrings.

There was only one man on this day who did not quicken his steps to cross that floor. It was an elderly knight who had arrived at the north end of the place in a black sedan chair, and bid his porters let him off there. He alit near the pillory, where a fat man was being whipped, writhing and hopping as each new stripe decorated his back, but refusing to cry out. The old man from the sedan chair swung wide of the post so he wouldn't be flecked by hurtling blood, and stepped into a gap between a pair of coffee-houses that had been troweled onto the ancient facade of the hall, nearly hiding its main entrance. He needed no wig, for his hair, though thin, still grew long and straight, and smallpox had left little mark on him. And he needed no powder, for his hair had been white as salt for half a century. He strolled the length of the Hall slowly, raising his protruberant eyes to meet the gaze of certain of those omniscient angels, paying others no mind. He glanced about from time to time, as if his ears could detect echoes and discern resonances to which all others were deaf. In time he reached the south end of the vault where traffic was funneled between the two makes.h.i.+ft law-courts. With a visible hardening of his face he forced himself into a dissolving noise beyond. He was gone from the Hall. Perhaps he had changed it in his pa.s.sage, added some faint strain that echoed after he was gone, and echoes there still.

Tribes, clans, factions, sects, cla.s.ses, houses, and dynasties had raised their standards, and seen them thrown down, in the Hall's out-buildings for six hundred years. It was to Power what Covent Garden was to vegetables. No point in trying to follow the ins and outs, until you stepped over the threshold. At the moment, as for the past centuries, there was here a thing called Parliament, consisting of two parallel or alternate renderings named Commons and Lords, each the ground of an on-going war between Tories and Whigs, the sons and heirs of Cavaliers and Roundheads, the sons and heirs of Anglicans and Puritans, &c., &c. Each styled itself The Party and the other The Faction. Milling about in the gloom behind them, brandis.h.i.+ng money and weapons, were descendants of ancient warlords, currently going by the names of Jacobites and Hanoverians. The battle itself was carried forward daily with words as many as granules of gunpowder on a battle-field.

The silver-haired knight had been summoned into a high-walled Gothick chapel that for quite some few years had been claimed, occupied, and defended against all comers by the body calling itself Commons. It was dominated by the Tories just now. His summoners were a committee or subset of Commons that happened to consist largely of Whigs. Why had a body of Tories suffered a band of Whigs to form a committee that could arrogate to itself the power to summon Knights into this hallowed Chapel that they used as their Clubb-house? Why, only because the subject of that committee's deliberations was so abstruse, so recondite, and, in a word, so boring that they were only too pleased to let Whigs expend their powder on it.

"I HAVE BEEN HAVE BEEN made aware of four diverse Projects for discovering the Longitude," said Sir Isaac Newton. made aware of four diverse Projects for discovering the Longitude," said Sir Isaac Newton.

"Only four four?" asked Roger Comstock, the Marquis of Ravenscar: a Whig, and the bloke who had invited Newton here. He belonged to Lords, not Commons, and was therefore a guest in this chamber. "At the Royal Society, it seems we are exposed to four a week a week."

That Roger did not belong to this body at all, would seem to call in question the propriety of his having invited a stranger to come and address them. But he had many friends in the room willing to overlook this and other enormities.

"I know of only four, my lord, that are true in theory in theory. Of the others I make no account."

"Is that of Messieurs Ditton and Wiston among the fortunate four, or the phantastickal mult.i.tude?" asked Ravenscar.

Everyone in the chapel began barking like a dog except for him, Newton, and Messrs. Ditton (who had turned the color of a pomegranate seed, and begun moving his lips) and Whiston (whose eyelids thrummed like hummingbirds' wings as sweat coursed in gleaming rills from under his wig and pincered in on the corners of his eyes).

"Their theory theory is as is as correct correct as their as their ambitions ambitions are are feeble feeble," answered Newton.

The House of Commons became silent, not out of shock at Newton's cruelty, but out of professional admiration. "Supposing their scheme could be executed-a supposition that might be debated, at the Royal Society, as long and as fiercely as the late War was in this House-I say, disregarding all of the practical difficulties entailed in their Project, and supposing it were effected by some latter-day Daedalus-it would not suffice to navigate across an ocean, but only to enable the most diligent mariners to avoid running aground, when they wandered close to a Sh.o.r.e."

General amus.e.m.e.nt in the Chapel now, occasioned by the facial expressions of Messrs. Ditton and Whiston, who were no longer even putting forth the effort to be angry or agitated. They now looked as if they were resting on slabs at the College of Physicians, about halfway through their own autopsies.

Not partaking of the entertainment was the Marquis of Ravenscar, who had just been handed a slip of paper by a page. He opened and read it, and for only a moment looked as dismayed as Ditton and Whiston. Then he got the better of himself. Like the deaf dinner-guest pretending that he heard the bon mot, bon mot, he adopted a knowing grin, and allowed the mood of the House to infiltrate his phizz. He glanced down to review the doc.u.ments spread out on the table before him, as if he had forgotten the subject of this hearing and needed to jog his memory. Then he spoke: "Merely to avoid ramming the odd continent is a low bar. What of the other three Projects that are true he adopted a knowing grin, and allowed the mood of the House to infiltrate his phizz. He glanced down to review the doc.u.ments spread out on the table before him, as if he had forgotten the subject of this hearing and needed to jog his memory. Then he spoke: "Merely to avoid ramming the odd continent is a low bar. What of the other three Projects that are true in theory in theory? For it seems to me that if such Herculean efforts are to be made to practice a scheme, they were better directed to schemes that should enable our sea-captains to discover the Longitude anywhere anywhere."

Sir Isaac Newton's answer comprised many many words, but contained no more than the following information: that one could do it by telling the time with an excellent sea-going chronometer, which no one knew how to make yet; or by watching the satellites of Jupiter through an excellent sea-going telescope, which no one knew how to make yet; or by looking at the position of the moon and comparing it against calculations derived from his, i.e., Sir Isaac Newton's, lunar theory, which was not quite finished yet but would be coming out any minute now in a book. In the timeless and universal manner of authors conversing in public places, he did not fail to mention its t.i.tle: Volume III of Principia Mathematica, Principia Mathematica, ent.i.tled ent.i.tled The System of the World, The System of the World, available shortly where books are sold. available shortly where books are sold.

The Marquis of Ravenscar only heard this peroration in its general outlines because he spent the whole time jetting notes onto sc.r.a.ps of paper and stuffing them into minions' hands. But when his ears detected a lengthy silence, he said: "These, er, calculations-would they be similar to what are already used for finding lat.i.tude? Or-"

"Infinitely more complex."

"Oh, bother," said Ravenscar distractedly, still scribbling notes, like the naughtiest schoolboy in the entire history of the world. "I suppose every s.h.i.+p would then require an extra deck crowded with computers computers, and a flock of geese to keep 'em in quills."

"Or else we should need every s.h.i.+p to carry an Arithmetickal Engine, Arithmetickal Engine," Newton returned. Then, not trusting the House to detect his sarcasm, he went on: "-a chimaerical phant'sy of the Hanoverian dilettante and plagiarist, Baron von Leibniz, which he has abjectly failed to complete lo these many years." And it seemed as if Newton were prepared to enumerate the Baron's defects at much greater length, but he was interrupted, and distracted, by the hot arrival in his palm of a note still damp from Ravenscar's quill.

"So the lunar method too too requires an apparatus we do not know how to make yet," Ravenscar said, moving to sum up with an abruptness, a dispatch, that had not been seen in this House since the last time a Papist had tried to blow it up. The benches rustled with the stirrings of many expensively clad a.r.s.es. A positive start was running through the Chapel. requires an apparatus we do not know how to make yet," Ravenscar said, moving to sum up with an abruptness, a dispatch, that had not been seen in this House since the last time a Papist had tried to blow it up. The benches rustled with the stirrings of many expensively clad a.r.s.es. A positive start was running through the Chapel.

"Yes, my lord-"

"And so it is your testimony that our s.h.i.+ps shall persist in running aground and slaughtering our brave mariners until we shall learn how to make certain things we do not know how to make yet."

"Yes, my-"

"Who shall invent these remarkable devices?"

"Projectors, entrepeneurs, adventurers, my-"

"What incentive could lead such a man to wager years of his life on attempting to devise a new Technology-if I may borrow a word from Dr. Waterhouse-that may turn out to be infeasible?" Ravenscar asked, standing up, and holding out his hand to let it be known that it was now permissible for someone to hand him his walking-stick. Someone did.

"My lord, some monetary-" testified Sir Isaac Newton, standing up as well-for he had read the note.

"A monetary prize-a Reward! To be awarded to such Person or Persons as shall discover a more certain and practical Method of ascertaining the Longitude? Is that your testimony? Yes? Sir Isaac, once again the Heavens resound with your brilliance and all Britannia gapes in awe at your lapidary ingenuity." Ravenscar was crossing the floor while he thus orated, a novelty that roused to full wakefulness many a senior back-bencher who had lost, or never found, the faculty of walking and talking at the same time. " 'Twere a crime to waste any more of the time of the world's foremost savant on details," Ravenscar proclaimed, arriving at Newton's side and s.n.a.t.c.hing his arm. "I have unbounded confidence that Mr. Halley, Dr. Clarke, and Mr. Cotes can bat down any further questions from Commons-as for myself, I have business with certain troublous Lords-I may as well see you out, Sir Isaac, as we go the same way!" By that time he and Sir Isaac were out the door, leaving a House of more or less dumbfounded Commons; Ditton and Whiston, half-murdered but still breathing; and the three lesser savants mentioned, who had been summoned as mere acolytes to the High Priest, and been left in charge of the Rite.

NEWTON NEARLY LOST AN ARM in the lobby of Commons, for he moved left-towards Lords-as Roger Comstock, the Marquis of Ravenscar, who had possession of the arm, moved right-towards Westminster Hall. "We are summoned in the lobby of Commons, for he moved left-towards Lords-as Roger Comstock, the Marquis of Ravenscar, who had possession of the arm, moved right-towards Westminster Hall. "We are summoned by by Lords," Ravenscar explained, re-socketing Newton's shoulder-joint, and trying it with a wiggle, "but not Lords," Ravenscar explained, re-socketing Newton's shoulder-joint, and trying it with a wiggle, "but not to to Lords." Dodging round a few bends and negotiating diverse stair-flights they came into the cleft between the two plank law-courts, and entered the great Hall again-just as devoid of Vikings, and strewn with inappropriate modern-day Englishmen, as ever. A man in quasi-genteel clothes browsed a bookshop, to let all the world know he was literate; a straw projected from his shoe, as a signal to barristers that he would give false testimony in exchange for money. A stirring in the air created a serial heaving down rows of sunfaded, smoke-stained, bullet-holed banners: the colors of French regiments that had been taken by Marlborough at Blenheim and other places. These had been hung on the walls to add a bit of color, and been promptly forgotten. A fair bit of noise was coming into the north end of the Hall from the New Palace Yard. The man who'd received the whipping there earlier had been left in the pillory, and a few score common Londoners had gathered in his sight, to fling handfuls of mud and horse-manure at his face in hopes that they might induce suffocation. This sort of thing was common enough in London that most persons could will themselves not to see it. Ravenscar, uncharacteristically, was gazing directly at the scene. His eyes were too old, and too far away, to resolve the details; but he knew what it was. "Ah, fortunate man!" he said wistfully, "if only I could trade places with him for the next hour!" Lords." Dodging round a few bends and negotiating diverse stair-flights they came into the cleft between the two plank law-courts, and entered the great Hall again-just as devoid of Vikings, and strewn with inappropriate modern-day Englishmen, as ever. A man in quasi-genteel clothes browsed a bookshop, to let all the world know he was literate; a straw projected from his shoe, as a signal to barristers that he would give false testimony in exchange for money. A stirring in the air created a serial heaving down rows of sunfaded, smoke-stained, bullet-holed banners: the colors of French regiments that had been taken by Marlborough at Blenheim and other places. These had been hung on the walls to add a bit of color, and been promptly forgotten. A fair bit of noise was coming into the north end of the Hall from the New Palace Yard. The man who'd received the whipping there earlier had been left in the pillory, and a few score common Londoners had gathered in his sight, to fling handfuls of mud and horse-manure at his face in hopes that they might induce suffocation. This sort of thing was common enough in London that most persons could will themselves not to see it. Ravenscar, uncharacteristically, was gazing directly at the scene. His eyes were too old, and too far away, to resolve the details; but he knew what it was. "Ah, fortunate man!" he said wistfully, "if only I could trade places with him for the next hour!"

Newton straightened up and, prudently, slowed down. He glanced up and around as if wondering whether any of the over-looming angels had heard. "Where are we going, my lord?"

"Star Chamber," Ravenscar announced, simultaneously tightening his grip on Newton's arm lest these fell words cause the eminent Natural Philosopher to spin away and make a break for it. Sir Isaac did no such thing; but he was startled. He had expected that Roger Comstock would name one of the buildings of the Exchequer, which in recent decades had advanced far, and on a broad front, from the Hall's northeast corner, so that they nearly filled the s.p.a.ce between it and the River. Star Chamber, on the other hand, was small, and ancient; Kings of England had used to meet there with their Privy Councils. "Who has summoned us?" Newton asked.

As if the answer were self-evident, Roger said, "The Eel." Saying out loud this mysterious epithet seemed to bring his concentration back. "We are only seconds away from the place. We could get more time by walking slowly; but I wish to stride into the place enthusiastically enthusiastically. The importance of this cannot be overstated. You must therefore listen carefully, Sir Isaac, as I'll only have time to say this once.

"It seems," Roger continued, "that I have only been given leave to distract myself with Longitude so that my honorable lord, Henry St. John, Viscount Bolingbroke, could prepare some sort of poppet-show. The invitation was sprung upon me while you were testifying. I am sure Bolingbroke would fainer have tied it round an arrow and shot it into my stomach, but such proceedings, though frequently seen in Lords, are still frowned upon in Commons. You, Sir Isaac, have been given a Backstage Pa.s.s to the poppet-show, which makes me suspect that you shall be called upon to play the lead role."

Sir Isaac Newton now became quiet and still, which was his customary way of showing rage. "It is an affront. I came here to discourse of the Longitude. Now you say I am caught up in an ambuscade. ambuscade."

"I beg of you, Sir Isaac, be anything but affronted. For it is when men become old and important, and peevish over the odd ambuscade, that they become most vulnerable to just such tactics. Be baffled, unconcerned, gay-what'd be best of all, sporting sporting about it!" about it!"

Newton did not look very sporting just now. The portal to Star Chamber was now as large in Ravenscar's sight, as the whale's maw to Jonah. "Never mind," he said, "be as affronted as you please-just don't volunteer anything. If you see what appears to be an opening in debate, remember that it was ingeniously laid down in front of you by Bolingbroke, as coquettes drop handkerchiefs at the feet of men they would ensnare."

"Has anyone ever actually done done that to you, Roger?" They had been joined by Walter Raleigh Waterhouse Weem, a.k.a. Peer, who was, like Roger, a Whig Lord. "I've heard of the practice, but-" that to you, Roger?" They had been joined by Walter Raleigh Waterhouse Weem, a.k.a. Peer, who was, like Roger, a Whig Lord. "I've heard of the practice, but-"

"Nay, 'twas just a figure," Roger admitted.

But this Weem/Comstock insouciance-in truth a sort of Yogic exercise to relax nerves-misfired in Newton's case. "What's the point of partic.i.p.ating in a debate if I'm to disregard every opening?" he demanded.

"This is no more a debate debate than is Hanging Day at Tyburn Cross. Viscount Bolingbroke would be our Jack Ketch. Anything than is Hanging Day at Tyburn Cross. Viscount Bolingbroke would be our Jack Ketch. Anything we we are allowed to say shall be strictly in the nature of Last Words. Our reply, supposing we can muster any, shall consist of deeds not words, and it shall be delivered...outside...of...this...Chamber!" Roger timed it so that he stepped over the threshold at the moment he uttered the last word. Newton dared not respond, for the Chamber was crowded with Lords Spiritual and Temporal, Knights, Courtiers, and Clerks. And it was as silent as a parish-church when the vicar has lost his place in the middle of the sermon. are allowed to say shall be strictly in the nature of Last Words. Our reply, supposing we can muster any, shall consist of deeds not words, and it shall be delivered...outside...of...this...Chamber!" Roger timed it so that he stepped over the threshold at the moment he uttered the last word. Newton dared not respond, for the Chamber was crowded with Lords Spiritual and Temporal, Knights, Courtiers, and Clerks. And it was as silent as a parish-church when the vicar has lost his place in the middle of the sermon.

"SOMETHING MONSTROUS WAS MADE to happen in the Tower of London a month and a half ago." to happen in the Tower of London a month and a half ago."

It was terribly unkind for Roger to have dubbed one of his fellow-men "The Eel." And yet a visitor from another place and time, blundering into Star Chamber, not knowing any of the men in the place, would have been able to pick out the one Roger meant. Henry St. John, Viscount Bolingbroke, and Secretary of State to Her Britannic Majesty, was strolling about the open center of the chamber as he talked. All others were backed up against the walls, like so many small fry sharing a tank with something toothy and sinuous.

"London's Persons of Quality-members of the Party and of the Faction alike-have done what they could to draw a curtain over the late events in the Tower, and to promulgate the sham that it was a momentary up-welling of the Mobb, quickly suppressed by the Queen's Own Black Torrent Guard. A stable-fire on Tower Hill distracted the locals, and laid a smoke-pall over all-fortunate, that. It shall be writ down in history-books as a civil disturbance, if it is noted at all. But it would be a moral as well as an intellectual sin to mistake the events of April 23rd for anything other than a whited sepulchre. The matter must be investigated. Those responsible must be held to accompt. My lord Oxford, in his capacity as Lord Treasurer, has disappointed me by failing to do anything about it."

This frank and frontal a.s.sault on his fellow Tory Lord was new. It created a buzz in the room. Bolingbroke held his tongue for a few moments, and let his gaze stray over the heads of some of the wallflowers. These reacted as if they'd been switched across the face by a horse-tail. Bolingbroke was not looking at them, however, but simply gazing in the general direction of the various offices, courts, and receipts of the Exchequer.

After that, Bolingbroke's words poured out into a carefully maintained silence. Even men who were under attack (several of Oxford's lieutenants had been shouldered to the front rank) said nothing. This was, in other words, no kind of Parliamentary proceeding. Depending on the diurnal velleities of Queen Anne, Bolingbroke was either the first man in England, or the second, after Oxford. Today he certainly believed he was first; he might have come here direct from the right hand of the Sovereign herself. Though Star Chamber was, like Commons and like Lords, an appendage of Westminster Hall, it had nothing to do with Parliament-which was a place to discuss things-and everything to do with Monarchy of the ancient, off-with-their-heads school. The murderous Court of Star Chamber had been abolished during Cromwell days, but this room still did service as a venue for the Privy Council to effect their plans and resolves-some dictated by primordial ceremonies and others improvised moment-by- moment. This seemed to be one of the latter. In any case, no one spoke unless Bolingbroke asked him to; and he hadn't asked.

"In the Tower of London is a place called the Mint," Bolingbroke continued, allowing his gaze to slide over Newton's face. Newton did not glance away-a detail, but a noteworthy one. Roger Comstock, or any other worldly man, would have advised Sir Isaac to lower his gaze, as this was thought to have a calming effect on mad dogs and Lords of the Council alike. But Newton spent most of his time in other worlds. Those aspects of this this world considered most important by men like Ravenscar and Bolingbroke, Sir Isaac was most apt to find trivial and annoying. world considered most important by men like Ravenscar and Bolingbroke, Sir Isaac was most apt to find trivial and annoying.

Bolingbroke did not know Isaac Newton. Newton was a Puritan and a Whig, Bolingbroke a man of no fixed principles, but with the brainstem reflexes of a Jacobite Tory. Bolingbroke was one of those hommes d'affaires hommes d'affaires who had sought and obtained entry to the Royal Society because it was the done thing. Out of its recondite deliberations, certain Whigs such as Pepys and Ravenscar had summoned forth magic: Banks, Annuities, Lotteries, National Debt, and other eldritch practices that had conjured latent money and power from out of nowhere. One couldn't blame a man like Bolingbroke for thinking that the Royal Society was, therefore, all about power and money. Newton's abandonment of Cambridge for the Mint only confirmed as much. If Bolingbroke had known of Newton's true reason for being at the Mint-if full understanding of Newton could have been inserted, whole, into the mind of Bolingbroke-it would have been necessary to carry Her Majesty's Secretary of State out of the room on a door, and give him tincture of opium for days. As it happened, he a.s.sumed that Newton had taken the job because the highest thing a man could aspire to was to be a time-serving hack with a sinecure, a pompous t.i.tle, and as few responsibilities as possible. who had sought and obtained entry to the Royal Society because it was the done thing. Out of its recondite deliberations, certain Whigs such as Pepys and Ravenscar had summoned forth magic: Banks, Annuities, Lotteries, National Debt, and other eldritch practices that had conjured latent money and power from out of nowhere. One couldn't blame a man like Bolingbroke for thinking that the Royal Society was, therefore, all about power and money. Newton's abandonment of Cambridge for the Mint only confirmed as much. If Bolingbroke had known of Newton's true reason for being at the Mint-if full understanding of Newton could have been inserted, whole, into the mind of Bolingbroke-it would have been necessary to carry Her Majesty's Secretary of State out of the room on a door, and give him tincture of opium for days. As it happened, he a.s.sumed that Newton had taken the job because the highest thing a man could aspire to was to be a time-serving hack with a sinecure, a pompous t.i.tle, and as few responsibilities as possible.

And now Newton was staring him directly in the eye. Only a few men in all of Christendom had the kidney for a staredown with Bolingbroke, and until this moment, Bolingbroke had thought he knew who all of them were. For this was his first encounter of any significance with Newton, and his first hint that Newton was at the Mint for reasons that were not obvious.

"How stand matters in the Realm of the Coin, Sir Isaac?" Bolingbroke inquired, manipulating his snuff-box-which gave him a pretext to break contact with Newton's blood-freezing glare.

"Her Majesty's coinage has never been more sound, my lord-" Newton began, then stopped as Ravenscar put a hand on the small of his back. Bolingbroke had spun away as if to hide from Sir Isaac, while exhibiting to a rank of his supporters an expression of surprise and mirth that had come over his face. For as any well-brought-up person ought to discern, Realm of the Coin Realm of the Coin was a play on words, a mere witticism, tossed out as a sort of ice-breaker, to establish a feeling of welcome and camaraderie, while giving Newton an opening to respond with a was a play on words, a mere witticism, tossed out as a sort of ice-breaker, to establish a feeling of welcome and camaraderie, while giving Newton an opening to respond with a bon mot bon mot of his own. Newton had missed this, which showed lack of breeding, and taken it as a literal request for information, which showed he was oddly nervous, keyed-up, trigger-happy. Odd, that! Why so defensive? Bolingbroke took snuff and composed himself, then turned back around to face Newton-but not before all of these things had been communicated to the men standing behind him, and registered on their faces, visible to everyone else in Star Chamber. All were mortified on Sir Isaac's behalf, except for Sir Isaac, who clearly just wanted to be asked questions so that he could answer them and get away from these people. of his own. Newton had missed this, which showed lack of breeding, and taken it as a literal request for information, which showed he was oddly nervous, keyed-up, trigger-happy. Odd, that! Why so defensive? Bolingbroke took snuff and composed himself, then turned back around to face Newton-but not before all of these things had been communicated to the men standing behind him, and registered on their faces, visible to everyone else in Star Chamber. All were mortified on Sir Isaac's behalf, except for Sir Isaac, who clearly just wanted to be asked questions so that he could answer them and get away from these people.

"Of course, Sir Isaac-more on that anon. I welcome you, and only wish that more Lords of the Council had not seen fit to attend you." This as an aside between two players on a stage. Then, a straightening and clearing of the windpipe, and a soliloquy: "Her Majesty's coins come out of the Mint. Her Majesty's name and her n.o.ble visage are impressed upon every one of those coins. Coinage, therefore, has ever been a State, as well as a Treasury matter. Much as Charing Cross, over yonder, is neither the Strand nor Whitehall, but rather the crux and joint of the two, so coinage is a sort of con-fusion of State and Treasury. The Secretary of State has some interest in it," Bolingbroke continued, meaning himself. "This marks the beginning, though 'tis far from being the end, of the public public phase of the Secretary of State's investigation. I have been pursuing it phase of the Secretary of State's investigation. I have been pursuing it quietly quietly for some weeks now, and had not intended to make it known so prematurely; but when I learned that Sir Isaac Newton, who has the honor to be Master of the Mint, was coming to Westminster to testify on some trifling matter ginned up by the fevered minds of the Faction, I resolved to invite him to this Chamber that his visit would not be a perfect waste of his time." for some weeks now, and had not intended to make it known so prematurely; but when I learned that Sir Isaac Newton, who has the honor to be Master of the Mint, was coming to Westminster to testify on some trifling matter ginned up by the fevered minds of the Faction, I resolved to invite him to this Chamber that his visit would not be a perfect waste of his time."

Bolingbroke's coiling movements about the room had now led him into a position whence he could gaze directly into Newton's face across some yards of rather good wool carpet. "Sir Isaac," he said, "my investigation has already established that you were absent from the Tower on the day of the a.s.sault. But no doubt your famous curiosity got the better of you when you returned and found that a small war had been conducted there while you were out. You must have looked into those events, asked questions of those who were there. What conclusions have you reached as to the true true nature and purpose of the outrage?" nature and purpose of the outrage?"

"My lord, it was an attempt-mostly successful, I am sorry to say-by a gang of Black-guards, very likely led by no less than Jack the Coiner himself, to steal the Crown Jewels," said Sir Isaac Newton. Behind him, Ravenscar was wondering if he would get away with elbowing Newton in the throat to disable his voice-box.

"Perhaps it would help to clarify your mind as to that, if I told you that my investigators have already captured some of the Black-guards in question. Oh, they attempted to flee to Dunkirk in a boat that was overhauled and searched by a brig of the Royal Navy," Bolingbroke explained, amused by Newton's naivete, but tolerant for now. "The missing jewels were recovered. The men were kept apart and questioned separately. They have testified, to a man, that even when Jack the Coiner had gained the Inmost Ward, and held the Tower in the hollow of his hand, as it were, standing within bow-shot of the open and unguarded Jewel Tower, he did ignore the lure of those baubles, and held them of no value. Instead he made straightaway for the Mint, and went to the vault where the Pyx is kept."

"That is absurd," Newton said. "The Pyx holds but a few samples of pennies and guineas. The Crown Jewels are infinitely more valuable."

"The theft of the Crown Jewels was an improvisation, carried out by ignorant p.a.w.ns who never knew the true purpose of the a.s.sault. This much is proved by the ease with which those men were captured. I say that Jack the Coiner went to the Pyx."

"And I hear you saying it, my lord; but I I say nothing was stolen from that Vault." say nothing was stolen from that Vault."

"Note the careful selection of words," Bolingbroke mused aloud to a squadron of smirking Tory admirers. "Is this a sentence, or a mathematickal riddle?" Then he whirled to face a closed door, which led not to the exit but to an inner chamber. "Bring it in!" he commanded.

The door was heaved open by a page, revealing several men who had been loitering within. The biggest led them out. He was booted and spurred, and dressed very well, complete with a cape. Dangling on his breast was a silver medallion in the shape of a greyhound. Four other men, similarly got up, followed him, each holding an end of a pole. They looked almost like porters carrying a sedan chair, and this caused a frisson frisson to charge through Star Chamber as everyone phant'sied that the Queen herself was being hauled out. But the burden of those poles was smaller, yet heavier, than the Queen. It was a boxy thing hidden under a velvet cape. to charge through Star Chamber as everyone phant'sied that the Queen herself was being hauled out. But the burden of those poles was smaller, yet heavier, than the Queen. It was a boxy thing hidden under a velvet cape.

"You'll all know Mr. Charles White," said Bolingbroke, "Captain of the Queen's Messengers. And, as of some weeks ago, provisional commander of the Queen's Own Black Torrent Guard, in relief of the disgraced Colonel Barnes."

A murmur of diffident greeting welled up about the place and collapsed to silence as the four Queen's Messengers set their mysterious fardel down in the center of the floor, directly between Newton and Bolingbroke. Charles White, who as the proprietor of a bear-baiting ring in Rotherhithe knew a few things about how to play on the antic.i.p.ation of an audience, allowed a five-count to elapse, then stepped up smartly and whipped off the cape to reveal a black chest with three padlocks suspended from its hasps.

"As my lord commanded," White said, "direct from the Mint in the Tower of London, I give you the Pyx."

"OH, PRAY DON'T BE SO absurd, this is not a Trial of the Pyx!" Bolingbroke exclaimed some time later, when everyone had calmed down a bit, and stopped murmuring in one another's ears. "As every man in this Chamber ought to know, a Trial would require the presence of the Queen's Remembrancer, as well as the Lord Treasurer, who has not seen fit to be with us this day. Oh no no no. Quite absurd. This is not a Trial, but a cursory absurd, this is not a Trial of the Pyx!" Bolingbroke exclaimed some time later, when everyone had calmed down a bit, and stopped murmuring in one another's ears. "As every man in this Chamber ought to know, a Trial would require the presence of the Queen's Remembrancer, as well as the Lord Treasurer, who has not seen fit to be with us this day. Oh no no no. Quite absurd. This is not a Trial, but a cursory Inspection, Inspection, of the Pyx." of the Pyx."

"Pray, what is the, er, procedure for such an inspection, my lord? It is a thing I have never heard of," said Ravenscar. He was acting as a second for Newton, who was still unable to speak; or so Ravenscar guessed from the fact that beneath Newton's thinning white hair his scalp was red, and covered with gooseb.u.mps.

"Of course you have never heard of it, for it is extraordinary. It has never been done before. It has never been necessary necessary. For until recent times, the Pyx was always looked after by guards who could be trusted. To guard it has been a duty of the Tower garrison. Several regiments have had the honor. Of late it has been entrusted to the Queen's Own Black Torrent Guards: a regiment that enjoyed flashes of distinction until my lord Marlborough quite lost his way, and quit the country. Under a Colonel Barnes it fell into degeneracy. He has been relieved of his commission. There is an old master sergeant of that Regiment, a Robert Shaftoe. This Chamber will no doubt be astonished to learn that Sergeant Shaftoe is none other than the brother or half-brother of one Jack Shaftoe, thought to be the same person as Jack the Coiner. In spite of which, this Robert Shaftoe was allowed-through a systematic dereliction of responsibility by Marlborough, extending over many years-to remain in the regiment, under the pretext that he had become estranged from Mr. Jack Shaftoe and had not seen him in many years. It is he, and others like him, who have been given charge of the Mint in general, and the Pyx in particular, since the war ended and their Regiment was brought home. After the events of April 23rd, as I have said, Colonel Barnes was relieved, and more recently Robert Shaftoe has been moved to new quarters. Oh, he still resides within the Tower, no longer in his accustomed billet. He has been given lodgings of a rather different character. There, he has had conversations with Mr. White. Thus far, these conversations have not been terribly illuminating-but I trust this will change, as Mr. White has shown himself to be a skilled and forceful seeker after the truth. Since these changes were put into effect, the Pyx has been safe from any tampering-I dare say, as safe as the Crown Jewels. But it is impossible to know what might have been done to it during the year that it lay bare to the irresponsibility, if not the outright depredations, of Colonel Barnes and Sergeant Shaftoe. And that is why we are gathered in this Chamber today for an event without precedent: an Inspection of the Pyx."

"AND SO, TO SUM UP, I must confess that I too was absent during the onslaught of these Black-guards- I must confess that I too was absent during the onslaught of these Black-guards- a shame that I shall never out-live," said Charles White, who had just related, to an astonished Chamber, an improbable yarn about a wild goose chase down the River Thames: a venture that had been undertaken on the strength of a.s.surances from Colonel Barnes and Sir Isaac Newton that it would culminate in the capture of Jack the Coiner, but that in fact had ended with a fire in a broken-down, abandoned coastal watch-tower, and a lot of confused and misled dragoons storming around in benighted mud-flats. A boat or two had been sighted, and pursued, until darkness had fallen. Sir Isaac had been rescued from a drifting wreck where he and another aged Whig Natural Philosopher had been found down in the bilge playing with a jack-in-the-box.

"Your sense of duty is an example to us all, Mr. White," Bolingbroke protested, in a voice soaked with amus.e.m.e.nt over the concluding detail of the jack-in-the-box. "If you were misled, 'twas only because the Byzantine intrigues that were afoot on that day, are so alien to the mentality of an honest Englishman. Tell me, when you returned to the Tower, and found that indescribable scene, were you concerned as to the Crown Jewels?"

"Naturally, my lord, and hied thither straightaway."

"Does anyone really hie hie nowadays?" asked Roger. nowadays?" asked Roger.

Perfect was the silence at his levity.

Charles White cleared his throat and continued. "Finding several of the jewels missing, I supposed, at first, that this explained all."

"In what way, Mr White?" Bolingbroke inquired, now in a sort of friendly cross-examination mode.

"Good my lord, I reasoned that the Black-guards had been after the Crown Jewels, and that all of the day's happenings in the Tower had been parts of their plan to steal them."

"But you are using the past tense, Mr. White. Your opinions on the matter have undergone some change?"

"It was not until some weeks after, when some of the Black-guards were caught, and made to tell what they knew, that I began to perceive faults in that hypothesis." He p.r.o.nounced it wrong.

"But it seemed a perfectly reasonable hypothesis, hypothesis, didn't it? No one would have found fault with it, had the prisoners not given us the information that Jack the Coiner evinced no desire to see the Crown Jewels." didn't it? No one would have found fault with it, had the prisoners not given us the information that Jack the Coiner evinced no desire to see the Crown Jewels."

"It did indeed seem reasonable, my lord, or so I tried to tell myself for quite some little while; but viewed with a more critical eye, it does not hold up."

"Why does it not, Mr. White?"