The System of the World (72 page)

13 J
ULY MIDDAY

Nothing.

Kikin

13 J
ULY P.M.

Mr. Partry called at four of the clock, having just come from the place of the auction. He reported finding a single copper token, of the lightest weight, laid down as proffer for the lenses. Sent word to Dr. Waterhouse. The next move is ours. Gentlemen?

Threader

13/14 J
ULY—NOCTURNAL RUMINATIONS

He might as well have offered us
nothing
. But he offered us
something
. It is difficult to make out the true signification of this humble disk of copper. But after a long night counting bats, here is what I believe: Jack (or his proxy) does not want the lenses. So he offers payment that is insultingly low. But he does wish to continue the Arabian auction. Our next move ought to be to make some adjustment to the contents of our Pile.

Peter Hoxton, Esq.

14 J
ULY MIDDAY

I agree with Saturn’s hypothesis (
vide supra
). Have brought the diagram of the flying-machine discovered in the wall of Bedlam. Will whoever next sees Mr. Partry please ask him to convey it to the Tatler-Lock and bring back the box of lenses.

Dr. Waterhouse

14 J
ULY P.M.

A most peculiar heathenish Negotiation. Have understood the instructions set forth above by Brother Daniel and read them aloud to the illiterate Mr. Partry. He has departed bearing the diagrams. God willing, he shall return the lenses. N.B. evening watch is vexatious owing to the singing and smoking of Main-Topp regulars below. Am willing to trade my evening watch scheduled for 17th, for a morning watch any day save tomorrow.

Orney

15 J
ULY A.M.

Lenses were returned by our Mercury
*
last night in good condition. Round midnight I detected light emanating from the Window in Question. A look through the perspective-glass revealed the enlarged and distorted
shadow of a man cast on the canvas window-covering by (one guesses) a candle or lantern within. Regret that I am unable to offer a useful description of him who cast the shadow. After some minutes the light waned and vanished.

At 2
A.M.
a man knocked on the door hoping to find a Sodomite. I sent him away gravely disappointed.

Peter Hoxton, Esq.

15 J
ULY MIDDAY

No singing, no Sodomites, no Mercury.

Kikin

15 J
ULY P.M.

I renew my plea for some Respite from the damnable Vices practiced so freely Below. Will exchange evening for morning hours at favorable rates.

Partry reports a silver penny in fair condition has been offered for the diagrams. Sent word to Brother Daniel.

Orney

16 J
ULY A.M.

Yester eve the loneliness to which I’d grown accustomed was relieved by the unlooked-for, but welcome arrival of Dr. Waterhouse at five minutes past nine of the clock. He had received the note sent by Mr. Orney. He looks on today’s news as supporting the view that Jack or his proxy is more interested in Hooke’s
writings
than in his
artifacts
. He brought a wallet containing some of the
chymical
Notes, Receipts, &c., found in Bedlam’s walls, and proposes that they be left in place of the Flying Machine Diagram. The response should then tell us whether we are (to borrow a figure from a children’s game) getting Warmer or Colder.

Peter Hoxton, Esq.

16 J
ULY P.M.

I propose to Mr. Orney that in exchange for my taking his four hours scheduled tomorrow eve., he take my 18th
A.M.
and 19th midday watches.

Threader

P.S. Nothing happened.

P.P.S. I find the singing, etc. perfectly innocuous and even join in the choruses.

17 J
ULY WEE HOURS

Round seven of the clock, Mr. Orney, Mr. Partry, and I fortuitously overlapped. Mr. Partry collected the
chymical
Notes and departed for
the Tatler-Lock at 7:04, saying he should be back shortly. But when the bells of St. Olave and of St. Magnus Martyr next resumed their hourly dispute as to what time it was, he still had not returned. Keeping watch, I noted that the curtain had been drawn back entirely from the Window in Question, so as to flood the room of the Auction with what remained of the evening’s light. Peering through the glass I saw a stout red-headed fellow, whom I believe to have been Mr. Knockmealdown, pacing about the room. Sitting at the table was a man dressed in a dark suit of clothes, going through the contents of the wallet in a methodical way—which told me, at least, that Mr. Partry had reached the Tatler-Lock and made his delivery. Moved partly by concern for the welfare of our thief-taker and partly by hope that I might contrive to get a better look at this dark-clad fellow (for the seeing through the window was poor), I departed the Main-Topp at 8:10, leaving Mr. Orney to man the post, and hurried south on London Bridge, reaching what I shall denominate the main entrance of the Tatler-Lock at 8:13. This door leads into the so-called
lobby
. Chary of exposing myself to the many prying eyes of that place, I did not go inside, but ambled about the surrounding streets for some little while—an exercise I do not recommend to any of the Clubb, as Mr. Knockmealdown’s factories are as be-swarmed with footpads, &c., as a knacker’s yard with flies—until at 8:24 my notice was drawn to a carriage (hackney, unmarked, unremarkable) emerging from an alleyway that is surrounded on three sides by out-buildings and other excrescences of the Tatler-Lock. I followed this on foot as far as the Great Stone Gate which it cleared at 8:26:30. Thence I watched it all the way across the Bridge. It passed St. Magnus Martyr, which is to say, it vanished into London, at 8:29:55: rather good time, as traffic on the Bridge was light. Be it noted that the City of London and the head-quarters of Mr. Knockmealdown are separated by a mere two hundred seconds—material for a Sermon should one of you homilists care to write it up. Returning towards the Tatler-Lock I encountered Mr. Partry in Tooly Street, carrying the Flying Machine Diagram under his arm. As is our practice, we pretended not to know each other. I swerved round several corners and followed him, at a distance, up the Bridge to the Main-Topp.

Mr. Partry explained that this auction is akin to a wheel that rubs and balks the first few times it is turned, but presently warms, and runs smoother. Previously the buyer did not come to inspect our proffers for a day or more. But today, as Mr. Partry was swopping the
chymical
Notes for the Flying Machine Diagram, he encountered Mr. Knockmealdown himself, who bruited that if Partry were to make himself comfortable and partake of some refreshment, he might afterwards nip back up to the Auction-room and find an answer waiting. So Partry did
just that—not in the “lobby” but in a more congenial and private tap-room reserved for personal guests of the mismanagement—and at 8:23 (for I had taught him to tell time, and kitted him out with a watch, running in synchrony with mine), receiving the high sign from one of Mr. Knockmealdown’s minions, returned to the auction-room to find evidence that the wallet had been perused, and a gold coin—a
louisd’or
—left as counter-proffer. Partry let it lie, which was a way of saying to the buyer that he might have more to add to our pile in a day or two.

Mr. Orney departed to convey this news in person to Dr. Waterhouse. Before he departed, he took up a difficult matter with me, as follows. Mr. Orney is of the view that Mr. Threader’s offer of a two-for-one swop is beneath contempt, and unworthy of a civil response. He was at a loss as to how this information might be conveyed to Mr. Threader. I told him that as I am a thoroughly uncivil person, no one was better qualified than me to distribute this information. Consider it done.

Peter Hoxton, Esq.

18 J
ULY A.M.

Will members of the Clubb hereby desist from misusing the Log as a bazaar for haggling over hours. The schedule is now all wrong anyway, consequent to last night’s events. I have conferred with Sir Isaac. He has a notion of what it is that the buyer desires, and I agree with him. But we are loath to sell the original to this buyer, whoever he is, and so we are presently hard at work crafting a forg’d copy, with certain details altered, so that it shall not be of any use (the document in question is a chymical receipt, inscribed in a sort of philosophickal language that might as well be a cypher; I know enough of the language, and Sir Isaac knows enough of Alchemy, to produce a convincing fake). Meanwhile Mr. Hoxton has been directed to spend his days, and if need be his nights, at Clerkenwell Court fabricating two wooden chests that look the same.

Other Clubb members, please confer amongst yourselves as to who shall accept which watch, and do not involve this log-book.

Dr. Waterhouse

18 J
ULY P.M.

Spent nearly twenty-four hours here, alone. It is not the most disagreeable thing I have done, or would do, in service of the Tsar.

Kikin

18 J
ULY MIDNIGHT

Extemporaneous
Jottings are best confin’d to Waste-books, not to be perus’d by others. It is my Policy to write out several Draughts of any
Document that is important enough to pass under the eyes of Strangers or Colleagues. But the Circumstances that have brought the Clubb into being, and lately conferred upon me the Honour of Membership, are most extraordinary, and may permit me to set down in this Log some rude and hastily improvis’d Lines.

Dr. Waterhouse [who, as I write this, is sleeping on the Floor nearby] and I did profit from the lengthy Vigil of Mr. Kikin thusly: we have produced a Manuscript of several Leaves, similar in all observables to one that was written in 1689 by the late Mr. Hooke, viz. written on the same sort of Paper, with similar Ink, in a similar Hand, expressed in the stately but obscure Cadences of the Philosophick Language, and written in the stark runes of the Real Character. Like Mr. Hooke’s
original,
whence ’twas in large part Cribbed, it claims to be a Receipt for a restorative Elixir of such Potency as to bring back the Dead, couched as a Narration of a strange Evening under Bedlam’s Cupola. In truth, the Receipt is of no practical utility, for the two reasons set forth below.

First,
that, like Mr. Hooke’s Original, it requires, as one of its Constituents, a mysterious Substance; and as the nature of this Ingredient is not made clear, there is no way for Mr. Hooke’s result to be duplicated by any other Student of Chymical Arts [not the first time such a Gravamen could be leveled at that Author’s work—and perhaps sufficient Explanation of why he plaistered it up in a Wall].

Second,
that certain of its Instructions were deliberately altered, at my direction, to ensure that any effort to follow them would lead to production of a formless and stinking Pot of what is denominated, by Alchemists,
fæces
.

During our
chymical
Lucubrations in the Temple of Vulcan, Mr. Hoxton and several Apprentices were as busy in the Court of Technologickal Arts (as it is styl’d by my somonolent Colleague) fabricating two handsome Chests of Ebony-wood and Ivory. These were made to be indistinguishable from each other by the simple expedient of making two of each Part and assembling them side-by-side on the same Bench. Each has a hing’d Lid closed by a Hasp that is not, however, presently hinder’d by a Lock. Any Document, placed within such a Receptacle, is imbued by it with seemingly greater importance and higher value—or so may it seem to an impressionable Mind.

One of the twinned Chests bides at Clerkenwell where Mr. Hoxton is committing further Improvements. The other has received the forg’d Receipt and been convey’d to the Main-Topp by me and Dr. Waterhouse. We relieved the steadfast Mr. Kikin and waited for the arrival of Mr. Partry.

As Partry is not able to read what is set down in ink on these pages, I
shall permit myself greater Liberties, in discoursing upon his Character, than I should if I suspected he might one day acquaint himself with what I write down here. I beg the forbearance of the Clubb as I proffer Advice for which they never asked. For though its members be worldly and season’d Gentlemen all, yet the Clubb itself is of an age such that, were it an Infant, it should not yet have the ability to crawl, or even to roll over in its Cradle. Though I am its newest Member, it cannot be disputed that I have been engag’d in Pursuit of Coiners for nigh on a score of Years now; which giveth me Reason to suppose that some of my thoughts and opinions, carefully considered, & judiciously set down, might be of sufficient Interest to the Clubb as to be worth the few minutes it shall take to read them.

I would not have hired Partry. This gambit of hiring a thief-taker to venture into the vile and perilous Haunts that are the natural Habitat of Coiners, is easily understood; for to habituate such places is naturally repugnant, as well as dangerous, to a Gentleman. But
Dias
would never have found the Cape of Good Hope, save by braving the journey, and putting his own person in harm’s way; and many are the tales in the annals of the Royal Society of Natural Philosophers who expos’d themselves to disgusting and dangerous Circumstances, even to the point of sacrificing Limb or Life, because no other means could be found to their desir’d Ends. In consideration of which, it has long been my Habit to alter my appearance, viz. by applying Latex of
Brasil
to my face to give me a
pox-mark’d
Visage, &c., &c., and, thus disguised, to go out
incognito
into Gaols, Boozing-Kens, Taverns, &c., to see and hear with my own Organs of Sense what I will not trust any villainous Thief-taker to perceive clearly nor recount coherently.

Partry was already on the Clubb’s pay-roll when I was given the honour of membership, and I do not presume to suggest that he be removed now. To fire Partry at the current stage of the Auction would in any event only incite the gravest Unease in the mind of the Buyer. In perusing this Log, however, I cannot but note that all of the Clubb’s impressions of the
Tatler-Lock,
save a few fleeting and poorly resolved glimpses through the Window, have been supplied by Mr. Partry. To be certain that he has not been, like Hamlet’s uncle, pouring Poison into your Ears while you sleep, I resolved to accompany Mr. Partry to the Tatler-Lock on his visit this evening. Dr. Waterhouse, because he is concerned for my welfare, advised me not to go, and, because he knows me well, surrendered before his warnings became tedious. To this plan Partry expressed a violent opposition, which at first excited my suspicions; but after the first flush of astonishment had subsided he gave his assent. He did so grudgingly
at first, but upon seeing how my appearance was transfigured by a few moments’ work with Latex and Spirit-Gum, a change of clothing, and adoption of a different posture and gait, he made peace with the idea, and offered no further complaints. We set out for the Tatler-Lock ten minutes apart. I went first, on the pretext of being a seller of watches, fallen upon hard times, who wished to replenish his inventory at prices not within reach of honest men. Only after I had ensconced myself in the
Lobby
did Mr. Partry enter the building, carrying the chest, wrapped up in a black cloth. Contained within it was the first page of the Receipt prepared by me and Dr. Waterhouse.

To relate further details were idle, since all that I observed there was more or less as Mr. Partry has led you to believe. My Suspicions, at least in so far as concern the Tatler-Lock and the operations of the Auction, are proven to be unfounded. The chest is in the Auction-room, awaiting the attention of the Buyer. Partry has gone away to wherever he spends his nights. During our absence Dr. Waterhouse fell asleep in the middle of his Watch: in the Army, a flogging offence, in the Clubb, I know not what. I shall take the first part of the night-watch myself and awaken him at the stroke of two.

Sir Isaac Newton