“Prevent sight-seers from coming up here, thank you,” Daniel returned, then wheeled round and began to scan the walls. This upper storey was not as prized by the Governors of Bedlam as it had been by Hooke; rather than situating their best offices here, they had sprinkled tables and trunks about the place, making it into a dovecote for clerks, and a dump for little-used documents.
“When we were here for my party it looked much as it does now,” Daniel said to Isaac, “which is to say that these inward-sloping walls-which are, of course, the inner surface of the roof’s structure-had been plastered over.”
“Yes.”
“But I often visited Hooke here much earlier-back in the seventies. This part of Bedlam went up first-as you’ll recall, the wings took years to complete.”
“Yes.”
“I am trying to recollect what it looked like, before lath and plaster were put up. I phant’sy that behind these surfaces are large cavities-particularly-if memory serves-here, between where the chimney is hidden as it pierces the roof, and the corner. There are four chimneys-hence, four such cavities.” Daniel had been dragging a hand along the plaster as he spoke, occasionally thumping with his knuckles. He’d stopped at a place, near the corner, where it answered with an especially resonant boom. Without allowing his hand to move, he turned round now to scan the other three corners. His gaze lit on one that was stained with fresh plaster. Then-fortuitously-he noticed that Timothy Stubbs had finally caught up with them.
Pleasantly baffled might have described Stubbs’s state of mind when he’d reached the head of the stairs; horrified was nearer the mark now. Daniel favored him with a thin smile. “Does my discourse have a familiar ring to you, Mr. Stubbs?”
“Indeed, Doctor, it is very like what John Doe was saying to his confederates, after I followed them hither that night.”
“You showed commendable nerve, Mr. Stubbs, in sneaking up on a gang of madmen.”
The praise caused Stubbs to relax a bit. “Wish I’d been so cool as to’ve tackled all of ’em, guv.”
“You did just the proper thing by capturing their leader. Is that the place, over yonder, where they attacked the wall?” Daniel asked, pointing to the fresh plaster.
“Indeed, sir.”
“Mad as hatters-or so ’twould seem,” Daniel mused. “On the other hand, suppose there really is treasure, or something, hidden in one of these corners. Then John Doe is no madman, but a burglar or worse; and all of the treatments I have prescribed for him are to no purpose. They might even be detrimental! He should in that event be at Newgate awaiting justice, not at Bedlam seeking a cure. The only way to be certain is to look. I take it that Doe found nothing, when he broke through the wall?”
“Wasps’ nests and bat droppings only,” Stubbs returned, speaking slowly, as he was a bit lost.
“That is not surprising. Mr. Hooke would have placed his cache in the corner most sheltered from the prevailing winds-there,” Daniel said, and pointed along the wall to the next corner. Saturn looked at him, and Daniel nodded. Saturn turned his back to the others and sauntered to the corner indicated. He gave his right arm a little twitch as he went, and a loggerhead of black iron dropped out of his sleeve, fat end first. His fingers closed round the narrow end just in time to keep it from dropping to the floor. Then with a sudden movement he brought it diagonally up and across his body, and with a ponderous swing of his whole trunk delivered a massive back-hand blow to the wall. The loggerhead burst through the plaster and the underlying lath like a musket-ball piercing a melon. Saturn drew it out, transferred the loggerhead to the other hand, and shoved half of his arm through the hole.
Mr. Timothy Stubbs was not in the least pleased by any of this, and looked as though the only thing preventing him from adding Saturn to Bedlam’s roster was the implicit threat of the four lads Saturn had summoned up. But Peter Hoxton quickly settled the issue by declaring: “The verdict is in. John Doe is no lunatick, but a common burglar.” And he drew his arm out of the hole, and held up, as proof, a rolled sheaf of dusty papers. “Or perhaps an uncommon one.”
“ ’TWOULD APPEAR YOU HAD WARNED Mr. Stubbs to be on alert for madmen who would wish to knock holes in the walls,” Isaac said, “but how could you have anticipated this?”
He and Daniel had retreated to the opposite corner of the upper storey to get away from the dust and noise created by the assault on the wall. Saturn’s lads, who had come with diverse crowbars, steve-dore’s hooks, amp;c., secreted on their persons, had demolished a few square yards of plaster and lath, exposing a prism of dark space in which two or three bodies might have been concealed, if Hooke had been that sort of chap. Instead, he had packed in two wooden trunks, and a few leather wallets, then caulked the interstices with wadded or rolled papers. The dust was now settling to the point where Daniel and Isaac were tempted to approach. But first Isaac wanted an explanation.
“The story is not wholly known to me,” Daniel said. “Several of Hooke’s buildings, including the Royal College of Physicians and my lord Ravenscar’s house, have recently been invaded.”
“Catherine told me about the attack on her domicile,” Isaac said. “A queer lot of burglars they were-knocking holes in my lord Ravenscar’s walls to discover naught, while ignoring treasures that were sitting out in plain view.”
“Simple extrapolation told me that Bedlam might be next. I paid Mr. Stubbs to show especial vigilance. John Doe was captured a week ago. He has done his utmost, I am told, to keep up the facade of a raving lunatick. Now that he knows what treatment lunaticks may expect in Bedlam, he may confess to simple burglary.” Daniel caught Stubbs’s eye-which was not easily done, as Stubbs was paralyzed with astonishment to see what was being dragged out of the walls. “Pray go to John Doe’s cell. Tell him nothing about what has really occurred. Rather, tell him that Dr. Waterhouse has knocked holes in all four corners, and found nothing-proof that Doe is a madman indeed, who may, therefore, look forward to a stay here of indefinite duration.”
Peter Hoxton had been carrying out a rough sort of the booty from the wall. Which was to say, he had raked out all that was of Saturnine interest and put the discards in another, larger pile. He had already culled out enough to keep him rapt for weeks: for the trunks were packed with small wooden chests, and the chests with fine instruments wrought of brass, and even of gold. Many of these were obviously clock-work. Saturn, wary of the dust, peered quickly at these, then closed them up and stacked them out of harm’s way, covering them with a large drawing which he pressed into service as a tarpaulin. But the drawing itself-a phantastickal rendering of the skeleton of a bird-had now cozened him into rigid fascination. Isaac too was drawn to it. “I thought it were a rendering of a bird, at first,” Saturn said, “until I spied this cull-” and he pointed to a snarl of lines that Hooke had, over the course of a few seconds’ lazy yet furious drawing, scrawled and slashed onto the page. These by some miracle added up to a perfectly intelligible rendering of a man in breeches, waistcoat, and periwig, standing with arms raised above his head to support one joint of the wing. If this was supposed to be a bird, it would have a wingspan several times that of the largest albatross. But where a bird would have muscles to pull, this skeleton had pistons and cylinders to push, the great bones of the wings. It was inside-out and backwards, exoskeletal.
Daniel’s gaze fell on a great leather wallet, gnawed at the corners by rodents, but still intact. He unwound the ribbon that held it closed, and spread it out on the lid of a trunk. It was a stack of foolscap sheets rising to the thickness of three fingers, creased and compressed from long immurement, but still perfectly legible. It contained notes, written in Hooke’s hand, and illustrated with more admirable diagrams, on divers subjects:
Dr. Dee’s Book of Spirits expos’d
Animadversions upon Dr. Vossius’s Hypothesis of Gravitation
Acerbity in Fruits
Plagiarism in the Parisian Academy
Cryptography of Trithemius
Shea
thing ships with lead, as practic’d by the Chinese
Telescopick Sights for Instruments Vindicated
Inconceivable Distance of the Fixt Stars
Parisian philosophers evade Proof from Observations, when they are unwilling to allow Consequences
272 Vibrations of a String in a Second, make the sound of G Sol re ut
Python explain’d
Of the Rowing of Ancient Gallies
Structure of Muscles explain’d
Iron and Sp. Salis take fire with explosion
Unguent for Burns, a Receipt
Ideas are corporeal, with their Explication, and the possible number that may be formed in a Man’s Life
Monkeys wherein different from Men
How Light is produced in putrifying Bodies
Micrometer of a new contrivance
A Cause hinted of the Libration of the Moon
Flints: of their formation and former fluidity
French Academy have published some Matters first discovered here
Why freezing expands water
Effects of Earthquakes on the Constitution of Air
Hills generated by Earthquakes
Hob’s Hypothesis of Gravity defective
Flying Fish, and of Flying in general
Center of the Earth not the Center of Gravity
Decay in human bodies observed
Anthelme’s Opinion of Light refuted
The Genuine Receipt for making Orvietano
Why heat is not sensible in the Moon’s Rays
Gravity and Light the two great Laws of Nature, are but different Effects of the same Cause
Hodometrickal Method for finding the Longitude
Effects on one Experimenter of the Plant, call’d Bangue by the Portugals, amp; Gange by the Moors
Mechanical Way of drawing Conical Figures
Burning-glasses of the Ancients
Implicit was that Hooke had concealed these in the walls of Bedlam because he would not entrust the Royal Society-specifically, Newton-with his legacy. And so Daniel began to read these titles aloud as a sort of rebuke to Isaac. But having started in on such a Litany, he found it difficult to stop. This was a sort of concentrated essence of that quicksilver spirit that had animated Daniel’s, and the Royal Society’s, halcyon days. To handle these pages was to drink deep from the Fountain of Youth.
What eventually stopped him was a page written, not in English like most of the others, and not in Latin like some of them, but in a wholly different alphabet. The characters on this page bore no relationship to any from the Roman, Greek, or Hebrew script; they were not Cyrillic, not Arabic, and yet bore no connection to any of the writing-systems of Asia. It was an admirably simple, clean, and lucid way of writing-if only one could understand it. And Daniel almost could. The sight of it stopped him cold for a minute. He was just beginning to decipher the glyphs of the title when Saturn put in: “I have already come across several of those, Doc-what tongue is that?”
Isaac, gazing at the leaf in Daniel’s hand from three yards away, answered the question: “It is the Real Character,” he said, “a language invented by the late John Wilkins, on philosophical principles, in hopes that it would drive out Latin. Hooke and Wren adopted it for a time. Can you still read it, Daniel?”
“Can you, Isaac?” Daniel asked; for it might be important for him to know this.
“Not without revising Wilkins’s book.”
“It is a receipt,” Daniel said, elevating the page slightly, “for a restorative medicine, made from gold.”
“Then pray do not waste time translating it,” Isaac said, “for we all know of the late Mr. Hooke’s susceptibility to quackery.”
“This is not Hooke’s receipt,” Daniel said. “He wrote it out, but did not invent it. He gives credit to the same fellow who shewed the Royal Society how to make Phosphorus.” To Saturn and diverse other eavesdroppers this signified nothing, but to Isaac it was as good as saying Enoch the Red. As such it drew Isaac’s full and disconcertingly sharp attention. “Pray go on, Daniel.”
“It begins with a sort of narration. An account of something Hooke witnessed somewhere…” A long pause now for difficult translation, then sudden knowledge: “No, here! Just here, where we are standing. The date given is…if my arithmetick is to be credited…anno domini 1689.”
“The same year, and place, as your strangely premature going-away party,” Saturn reflected.
This tripped Daniel up for a moment, being an acute observation on Saturn’s part, and one that Daniel had entirely missed. But Isaac urged him to go on, and so he did, haltingly: “It began with a medical-no, a surgical procedure on a subject-human-male-aged two score and three.”
“Ah, a contemporary of you two gentlemen!” Saturn put in. “Perhaps you knew him.”
“He was quite ill because of a stone. A stone in his bladder. Hooke performed a lithotomy.”
“What, here!?” Saturn exclaimed, looking about.
“I have seen them done in the street,” Daniel said.
“It would not be the strangest thing Hooke did here,” Isaac assured Saturn.
“That becomes the clearer, the more we go through his leavings,” Saturn mused.
“Pray continue, Daniel!”
“The procedure went normally. However, the patient…the patient died,” Daniel translated. He had begun to feel unaccountably woozy, and took a moment now to sit down atop a dusty trunk, lest he lose consciousness and topple over the balustrade into Bedlam’s Well of Souls. “I beg your pardon…the patient died, as often happens, of shock. No pulse was evident. Whereupon the learned fellow I spoke of earlier emerged from a place of concealment, from which he had been observing the procedure.”
“How convenient!” Saturn scoffed. “What, are we to believe this Alchemist lurks in Bedlam’s shadows just waiting for someone to give up the ghost during an impromptu tabletop lithotomy?”
“The truth is not so fanciful. He had been present, earlier in the evening, for a social gathering. He overstayed to keep an eye on the procedure,” Daniel said. This much was not written down on the page-it came from Daniel’s memory.
“A social gathering-the oft-mentioned premature going-away party, perhaps!” Saturn said. He meant it as a jest. But neither Daniel nor Isaac laughed.
Daniel continued with the translation: “Hooke had in this room a Reverberatory Furnace, which was already hot for another experiment. The Alchemist went to work in some haste, using some chymicals from Hooke’s own cupboard-which I can testify was well-stocked. For example, he used something that is rendered, on this page, as a bone-cube-cup…”
“Hooke must have meant a cupel.”
“Ah, well done, Isaac. A cupel, and certain materials that he carried on his person in a small wooden chest. The receipt is not easy to translate-I too shall have to revise Wilkins.” He skipped a page, then another. “The result: a small quantity of a light-bearing compound. Placed in the mouth of the dead patient, it caused his heart to resume beating, and cured him of his shock. Several minutes after, he came awake, and professed to have no memory of what had transpired. The Alchemist had by then departed, taking all the residues of the receipt with him. Hooke set it down as best he could from his recollections.”
“This explains much,” said Sir Isaac Newton, eyeing Daniel very oddly indeed. Daniel hardly cared; he had leaned back flaccid against the wall, and was gazing mindlessly at the oculus of silver light in the cupola. He felt no more alive than stone Melancholy.
“Yes, it does!” Saturn returned, “we now know what John Doe was looking for!” Then he shut up and swallowed hard, noting the odd, wordless tension joining Daniel to Isaac. “Or were you referring to something else?”
IN BOSTON DANIEL had known many Barbadian slaves, bred in the Caribbean from stock imported, a generation earlier, by the Duke of York’s Royal Africa Company. They were the most superstition-ridden people he had ever met. It seemed that the most flimsy and volatile elements of African c
ulture had survived the Middle Passage, even as the ballast of history and wisdom had been chucked overboard. Exported to northerly outposts, these slaves stepped off the gangplanks bedizened with voudoun fetishes and spouting the most bizarre words and phrases-’twas as if they lived in a perpetual hallucination. When such persons were placed in the households of literal-minded Puritans inclined to see devils and imps everywhere, the result was poisonous-as several Salemites had learned.
One phrase that Daniel had heard, more than once, from some such slaves, was dead man walking. It came out of a belief, endemic to the Caribbean, that corpses could be re-animated through sorcery, and made into sleep-walking Myrmidons who would do the sorcerer’s bidding.
It was impossible for Daniel to bar such thoughts from his mind for a little while. He was as helpless, as susceptible, as a man being tumbled in the Machine for Calming Violent Lunaticks. He was, if not a Dead Man Walking, then a Dead Man Sitting on his Arse for at least a quarter of an hour, as Saturn and his lads began to pack up the Hooke treasure and make it ready for shipment.
Gradually, that part of his mind where Enlightenment virtues were enshrined got the better of that part where grotesque supersitions waited for opportunities to jump out of the shadows and shout, “Boo!”
Precisely what Enoch Root was, was not known to Daniel. But Root most certainly was not a voudoun sorcerer. If he had ministered, in some wise, to Daniel following his lithotomy, he had not done so by necromancy. More likely, Daniel had not actually died, but gone into a coma, and Root had brewed up a stimulant to bring him back. It might have been as simple as smelling salts. Seeing which, Hooke-who was gullible about quack medicines-had let his imagination carry him off.
It was amusing, though, that Daniel had written Root a letter, just the other day, stating his opinion that he, Daniel, was not likely to survive the next few weeks.
Isaac’s repetition of the phrase “Crane Court” broke in on Daniel’s reverie. While Daniel had drifted away, Isaac had stepped in and begun issuing writs. He was telling them to take all of Hooke’s treasures away to the headquarters of the Royal Society-precisely what Hooke had not wanted.
THE System OF THE WORLD Page 63