The Baroque Cycle - The System Of The World Part 38

"Saturn says that he has all but scared you away," he began. "He forwards his apologies. He has gone off to brood over his unfitness as a retailer. Please come back. There is nothing here, here, save a pretense of a horologist's shop, which does not pay its rent." save a pretense of a horologist's shop, which does not pay its rent."

Greetings and salutations of a more formal nature also pa.s.sed among them, but these were so rote that they made little impression on anyone. Save one detail: Eliza, indicating her young woman attendant, made the following claim: "I present to you Fraulein Hildegard von Klotze."

"A familiar name-"

"As she would tell you, if she spoke more English, she is a half-sister of Gertrude von Klotze."

"The nurse who accompanied me on my journey from Hanover. That explains why her eyes are likewise shockingly familiar to me," said Daniel. "Welcome to London, Fraulein," he said with a bow-a rather deeper and more formal bow than would normally be directed to a lady-in-waiting. "And welcome, all of you, to the Court of Technologickal Arts. If you would only be so good as to follow me."

"WHEN I I WAS A GIRL WAS A GIRL in Constantinople," Eliza said, "I one day worked up the nerve to venture out from the in Constantinople," Eliza said, "I one day worked up the nerve to venture out from the harim harim of the Topkapi Palace and to explore certain reaches of that motley Pile that ought to have been forbidden to me. This I did by climbing up grape-vines, clambering over rooftops, and the like. And after a while I arrived at a place whence I could look down into a court-yard. This place was occupied by men of a mystickal sect called Darwayshes, who wore costumes, and observed rites, setting them apart from the rest of of the Topkapi Palace and to explore certain reaches of that motley Pile that ought to have been forbidden to me. This I did by climbing up grape-vines, clambering over rooftops, and the like. And after a while I arrived at a place whence I could look down into a court-yard. This place was occupied by men of a mystickal sect called Darwayshes, who wore costumes, and observed rites, setting them apart from the rest of al-Islam al-Islam. I lurked there for a few minutes, watching them, and then, having had my fill of strange sights, crept back to the harim harim."

"The similitude is a good one," said Daniel Waterhouse. "Yes, now you are in another court full of Dervishes, as queer in their own way, yet as easy around their own kind, as those you spied in Constantinople." He and Eliza had paused in a relatively stagnant corner of the court. Above them, a beam had been thrown across a gap to make a lifting-point. Suspended from its middle was an elephant's tusk, an ivory crescent eight feet in diameter if it was an inch. Diverse clever baffles and charms had been fixed to its rope to prevent rodents from abseiling down for midnight picnics; the only creature allowed to gnaw at this treasure was a journeyman ivory-carver who was having at it with a fine-toothed saw. Nor was this the only oddity or wonder in the Court of Technologickal Arts. The yard was an irregular pentagon a hundred feet in breadth. It was closed in by an arcade of work-stalls, each little more than a lean-to sheltering some odd collection of tools. At a glance Eliza saw a gla.s.s-blower, a goldsmith, a watch-maker, and a lens-grinder, but there were many others who had their own collections of specialized lathes, mills, hand-tools, and paraphernalia that were every bit as particular, especial, and jealously looked-after. Perhaps that old Jew with the stubby telescopes strapped to his face had once called himself a jeweler, and the obese German overflowing yon tiny stool had been a toy-maker, turning out music-boxes. Now whatever they did had been subsumed in a larger and more obscure purpose. Others simply could not be cla.s.sified at all. There was a bloke who had a stall to himself, off in the corner-an exile even among Dervishes-where he had mounted a gla.s.s sphere on an axle. Spinning this around with the aid of a wan, jittery apprentice, he produced unearthly crackling noises and summoned forth small lightning-bolts.

The open s.p.a.ce of the court had mostly been claimed by one faction or another and filled up with works both prodigal and practical. There were too many furnaces and forges to count at a glance, all of them quite small, and devoted to some sub-sub-specialty. These were fashioned of brick and mortar, each to a particular shape, reminding the visitors of so many sh.e.l.ls cast up on some outlandish beach. There was a crane, moved by two men each trudging along in a great wooden wheel. This was situated in the back of the court where a gate led in from a warren of country cowpaths, none of which had yet been enn.o.bled with a picturesque name. The court was further enlivened by diverse derricks, rigs, presses, frames, and Overhead Lifting Devices of unknown nature and purpose. There was even a barrow: a stony hummock that might have deserved the appellation of Ruin half a millennium ago, but had by now been mostly resorbed by the earth.

"Your budget for stationery must be generous," Eliza said. For another curious feature of the place was that sc.r.a.ps of paper were blowing round it like autumn leaves, and each had something scribbled on it. "I am put in mind of the 'Change." She s.n.a.t.c.hed a sc.r.a.p that had been dancing in a current of air in front of her, and stretched it out: it had been slashed, scribbled, and cross-hatched with furious pen-strokes. Once it might have been a fair rendition, in perspective, of something three-dimensional. But other hands had added, subtracted, modified, and annotated it so many times that half of the page was covered by ink. Perfected, it had been thrown away.

"We do spend a good bit on ink and paper," Daniel admitted, "but men such as these cannot think without them."

"I suppose I am meant to be impressed; but instead I confess myself bewildered," was the verdict of Johann von Hacklheber, who had never strayed more than arm's length from "Hildegard," but had never touched her, as they strolled round the court.

"The difficulty lies in the fact that there is little, so far, in the way of finished work," Daniel said, "and what has been finished has been shipped to Bridewell Palace." Then there was a respite as Johann attempted to explain the concept of Bridewell to the German girl, a project that did not seem to go very well.

"Allow me to demonstrate," Daniel said. He strode off across the court. Johann, "Hildegard," and Eliza followed, forming a queue that snaked and wended among forges, furnaces, and less namable constructs until it stopped at the foot of the barrow-mound.

This had been endowed with a set of wrought-iron gates, exceptionally ma.s.sive, and closed with a lock the size of a Folio Bible, as might be seen on an a.r.s.enal-Gate. Daniel had the key: a pound of bra.s.s wrought and carved into a lacy labyrinth. He blew on it, then inserted it into a hatch on the lock's front with the care of a surgeon lancing a King's boil. Snicking and clicking noises emanated from the penetralia of the device as it issued mechanical challenges, which were reb.u.t.ted by the key; finally Daniel was given leave to spin a bra.s.s wheel that drew back several bolts. The gates came a-jar. Daniel excused himself and stepped through the opening. Peering round him the guests could just make out a sort of vestibule within: a small stone-paved landing at the top of a pit. Some torches were soaking in an oil-pot. Daniel drew one out, shook off lashings of excess oil, and handed it to Johann. "If you would be so kind," he said. Johann had no difficulty finding an open flame in this court, and handed it back, a-blaze, in a few moments. "I shall be back soon," Daniel announced. "If not, send down a search party in half an hour." With that, he stepped over the brink of the pit. "Hildegard" gasped, thinking that he was about to plummet straight down some old well-shaft. But it presently became obvious from the nature of Daniel's movements that he was in fact descending a stairway, hidden in shadow. Soon he was gone from view, and they were left to watch a quivering rectangle of fiery light, and to hear diverse sc.r.a.ping, squealing, and clanking noises. Then the light again became concentrated into a bobbing fire-brand, followed at a short interval, first by the face of Daniel Waterhouse, and then by a gleaming quadrilateral that he was carrying under one arm like a book.

"This was lent to me by a friend who suffered from an embarra.s.sment of riches," Daniel explained after the torch had been extinguished and stowed, and the gate locked. They were examining a squarish plate of what appeared to be gold. It had been treated very disrespectfully and was sc.r.a.ped, battered out of plane, salt-caked, and tar-stained. But it was still obviously gold, hand-hammered to a thickness of perhaps an eighth of an inch. "As you have probably guessed, there are more of them stowed below; but we only withdraw as much as can be wrought in a single day."

For some minutes they followed Daniel around the court as he carried this treasure to several stations. A workman scrubbed it in a barrel of water to get rid of the salt. A goldsmith grasped it with tongs and thrust it into a furnace; for a few moments it was enveloped in fumes and colored flames as impurities were burnt off. Then it resolved to a pure glowing slab. He tugged it out, quenched it in water, and snipped off a corner for a.s.say. Then Daniel took it to a weigher who tediously balanced it on a scale, and noted it in a book. Then it was across the yard to a mill consisting of two great bra.s.s rollers, one above the other like a mangle. A man fed the plate into the crevice between these as a boy whirled a crank on an elaborate gear-train. The rollers turned almost as slowly as minute-hands. What emerged from them was no longer a neat square: it had been mashed to an irregular oval blob, like pie-crust under a rolling-pin, thinner than a fingernail. It came out onto a kind of skid that had been fashioned from a whole ox-hide stretched over a frame the size of a dining-table. The plate lay on this like a lake of molten gold, almost smooth enough to bear reflections. Four men-one at each corner-now bore this across the court to a stall where a large shearing-machine had been established. The ox-hide pallet was mated to this, so that the golden sheet could be slid directly into the jaws of the shear. Two men now went to work slicing the lozenge of gold into a large number of strips, each about a hand-span in width. When this was finished they rotated the strips ninety degrees and fed them through a second time, cutting them into squares. Some of the cuttings, from near the edge, came out imperfectly shaped, and were pitched into a discard basket. The rest were piled into a neat stack. When they ran out of gold the shear-men twice counted and re-stacked the cards (for the gold squares resembled nothing so much as a deck of great playing-cards). All of the proceeds-including the basket of sc.r.a.ps-were given back to Daniel. He took them back to the weigher, who accounted for every iota of gold. Daniel then returned the sc.r.a.ps to the locked crypt.

The tour-group reconvened in the shop of the man called Saturn. The golden cards had been stacked and counted one more time, and loaded into a purpose-built, velvet-lined chest that was just the right size for them. They gathered round it instinctively.

"Well, Dr. Waterhouse, we now understand perhaps a tenth of the oddities housed in your court," said Eliza. "When shall we understand the remainder?"

"When we go to Bridewell!" Daniel returned, and picked up the chest as if he meant to leave.

"WE ARE LIKE JEWELS in a pirate's treasure-chest," said the d.u.c.h.ess of Arcachon-Qwghlm, trying to get her fellow-pa.s.sengers to look on the bright side. in a pirate's treasure-chest," said the d.u.c.h.ess of Arcachon-Qwghlm, trying to get her fellow-pa.s.sengers to look on the bright side.

Daniel, Eliza, Johann, and "Hildegard" were sharing this booth-on-wheels, not only with a small chest of gold cards, but also with several bales of libels. To judge from their smell and their tendency to rub off on people's clothing, these had come off the press very recently. Everyone shied away from them save Daniel, who was dressed in clothes that were black to begin with.

According to some unwritten but universal rule of etiquette, people mashed together in a confined s.p.a.ce tended not to look one another in the eye, or to converse. The fact that "Hildegard" was, in truth, obviously Princess Caroline of Hanover only exacerbated it. Thus Eliza's efforts to make cheery conversation.

After they had jolted some distance southwards along Saffron Hill, Daniel, mortified and bored, managed to work one of his arms free of the pile-up, and got a hand on the window-shutter, which he shot open. In London, actual sun-beams were too much to ask for; but he was rewarded with a nebulous in-flow of smoky gray light, which fell on the top-most sheet of a libel-bale.

LIBERTY.

by Dappa My Persecutor has been heard to say that my libels are used only to stop up c.h.i.n.ks, and plug diverse other windy orifices, in the garderobes garderobes of Bankside gin-houses. Which if true raises the question of how of Bankside gin-houses. Which if true raises the question of how he he would know anything of such places; but let us pa.s.s over this mystery. For if Mr. Charles White's a.s.sertion would know anything of such places; but let us pa.s.s over this mystery. For if Mr. Charles White's a.s.sertion is is true, then you, reader, are enjoying but a few minutes' peaceful interlude in a House of Office somewhere in Southwark, and I had best get to the point before you have done with your business. true, then you, reader, are enjoying but a few minutes' peaceful interlude in a House of Office somewhere in Southwark, and I had best get to the point before you have done with your business.If you put your eye up to the c.h.i.n.k that was vacated, when you pulled this doc.u.ment from its rightful place, you may be able to see a street-an eastward continuation of Bankside, tho' a bit further from the sh.o.r.e, running in front of Winchester Yard; that is called Clink Street, and forms a part of the boundary of the Liberty of the Clink Liberty of the Clink. This parcel, 'tis said, long ago belonged to some abbots; but they granted it to the Bishop of Winchester, with the stipulation that that n.o.ble prelate would put it to work saving mens' souls, and gathering alms. Accordingly, a long line of Bishops ran brothels there for many hundreds of years. These were none of your latter-day wh.o.r.e-houses, infamous for disease and the degradation of women; nay, this was in the Halcyon Halcyon days before the days before the French French Pox, and a certain great Patron and Regulator of Brothels, who dwelt not far off in St. James, issued a decree that no woman be forced to work in such a place against her will. So keenly were these Inst.i.tutions inspected and ruled by the King and the Bishop that Labor, Management, and Customers all got along famously, and few disputes arose. But as in any human intercourse, trouble was foredoomed, and so a Prison was constructed here. It is from the Clink prison that I pen these words. Do not be concerned for my welfare. I am in a commodious flat, with a river-view; for this I have my patroness, and several of my readers, to thank. Below are several windowless chambers where some hundreds of my fellow-prisoners dwell, heavily ironed and lightly fed. Pox, and a certain great Patron and Regulator of Brothels, who dwelt not far off in St. James, issued a decree that no woman be forced to work in such a place against her will. So keenly were these Inst.i.tutions inspected and ruled by the King and the Bishop that Labor, Management, and Customers all got along famously, and few disputes arose. But as in any human intercourse, trouble was foredoomed, and so a Prison was constructed here. It is from the Clink prison that I pen these words. Do not be concerned for my welfare. I am in a commodious flat, with a river-view; for this I have my patroness, and several of my readers, to thank. Below are several windowless chambers where some hundreds of my fellow-prisoners dwell, heavily ironed and lightly fed.Why, you may ask, should the Clink be so crowded with wretches, when those Kings and Bishops had such care to make of this place an earthly Paradise? Why, because of certain degradations that have come with time. The Pox shut down the old Stews; the brothels moved from their proud stations on Bankside to a Diaspora Diaspora of back-rooms, salted all over the Metropolis, where the Lords Spiritual and Temporal can scarcely find, much less rule, them. The Temples of Aphrodite were replaced by bull- and bear-baiting rings, which I should describe as Fields of Mars, if there were anything martial about them; but this is giving them more than they deserve. The Muses flourished here too, until Cromwell shut down the theatres. The merry G.o.d Dionysus once gamboled in the Liberty of the Clink, but alas, the good old drinks of ale and wine have been quite driven out by that infamous new-fangled poison, of back-rooms, salted all over the Metropolis, where the Lords Spiritual and Temporal can scarcely find, much less rule, them. The Temples of Aphrodite were replaced by bull- and bear-baiting rings, which I should describe as Fields of Mars, if there were anything martial about them; but this is giving them more than they deserve. The Muses flourished here too, until Cromwell shut down the theatres. The merry G.o.d Dionysus once gamboled in the Liberty of the Clink, but alas, the good old drinks of ale and wine have been quite driven out by that infamous new-fangled poison, Genebre Genebre. Pox, poison, and pit-bulls rule this Clink now. It is a sad prospect, and enough to make a sapient prisoner reflect upon the nature of Liberties in general. For we all love to phant'sy that we live in some sort of Liberty-if not of the Clink, then of the City of London or some other Jurisdiction where men are proud to style themselves Free. But under close inspection, how often do we find those Freedoms to be Chimaeras, and our cherished Liberties to be little better than my private flat in the upper storey of the Clink? We may put it down, I suppose, to the nostalgia for Merry Olde England, whereby all things, be they never so modern modern or or outlandish, outlandish, are viewed through a perspective-gla.s.s of ancient design, which promises to deliver a true image, but in truth colors and distorts all that is seen through it. Merry Olde England did not have the modern Pox; and so brothels are no longer what they used to be. b.l.o.o.d.y and vile baiting-pits it did not have either, at least, not in the numbers seen to-day, and not frequented nor managed by are viewed through a perspective-gla.s.s of ancient design, which promises to deliver a true image, but in truth colors and distorts all that is seen through it. Merry Olde England did not have the modern Pox; and so brothels are no longer what they used to be. b.l.o.o.d.y and vile baiting-pits it did not have either, at least, not in the numbers seen to-day, and not frequented nor managed by respectable respectable men. And Merry Olde England did not have slavery: that queer inst.i.tution whereby a man may own another, simply by saying that he does. But the true England of to-day has all of these things. So I do not much bemoan the fact that I am in the Clink while you, reader, are at Liberty; for the Liberties in which we dwell are but delusions. I would fainer dwell in a meaner Liberty with fewer delusions than roam about a great one while being used by the lies and deceptions of the Party in power. men. And Merry Olde England did not have slavery: that queer inst.i.tution whereby a man may own another, simply by saying that he does. But the true England of to-day has all of these things. So I do not much bemoan the fact that I am in the Clink while you, reader, are at Liberty; for the Liberties in which we dwell are but delusions. I would fainer dwell in a meaner Liberty with fewer delusions than roam about a great one while being used by the lies and deceptions of the Party in power.

"What do you think?" Eliza asked. She'd been watching Daniel read it.

"Oh, as an essay, 'tis well enough wrought. As a political tactic, I question whether 'tis well considered."

"When he writes 'reader, this' and 'reader, that' it is no empty figure," Eliza said. "He does does have readers-though few of them would admit to it, in the current climate." have readers-though few of them would admit to it, in the current climate."

"There is the rub, my lady," Daniel said. He slammed the window to, for they were now rattling along the banks of Fleet Ditch, not all that far from the Royal Society's headquarters in Crane Court, and the ammoniacal stench had choked him and flooded his eyes with tears. "By publishing such things you are gambling that the Whigs shall win and the Tories shall lose."

Eliza seemed a bit put out by the criticism. But Caroline had been listening to their discourse, and was ready with an answer: "Ve are all gambling on zat, Doctor Vaterhouse. Including you."

IF J JOHANN HAD NOT told Caroline that Bridewell was a whilom Royal Palace, she would have alighted from her carriage, swept her gaze over it, and dismissed it as a half-Gothick, half-Tudor ruin-c.u.m-slum. But knowing what she knew, she was bound to stand a-mazed for some minutes, trying to reconstruct it in her mind's eye. told Caroline that Bridewell was a whilom Royal Palace, she would have alighted from her carriage, swept her gaze over it, and dismissed it as a half-Gothick, half-Tudor ruin-c.u.m-slum. But knowing what she knew, she was bound to stand a-mazed for some minutes, trying to reconstruct it in her mind's eye.

Visiting Dukes might once have pa.s.sed an afternoon bowling in that court over yonder, which was now home to an immense Gordian tangle of worn-out cordage, fated to be worried into oak.u.m by the chapped fingers of incarcerated wh.o.r.es. In that high window, where a twelve-year-old pick- pocket had just thrust his p.e.n.i.s out between iron bars to urinate into plain air, a Princess might once have gazed out onto the Fleet, back when it had been a brook instead of a sewer. Knights might have stabled their chargers in that long building that was now a booming, dusty work-shop.

A young woman of a more romantic disposition might have been at hard labor, all day long, trying to make a presentable phant'sy out of this social and architectural midden. Caroline only sustained the effort until cat-calls from diverse barred and grilled windows reminded her that they were out of place, tarrying here in a court normally used to receive new prisoners.

"Pay them no mind," Daniel recommended, ushering them through a gateway to an inner court. "Persons of Quality come here frequently to gape at the prisoners, though 'tis said that Bedlam provides an infinitely more lurid spectacle. The inmates will all suppose that we are tourists."

It had become evident that the palace had at least two wings, albeit not very well matched. "We shan't go that way," Daniel said, nodding to the left, "it is all men: pick-pockets, procurers, and 'prentices who've broken their masters' noses. Please follow me to the women's side." He spoke deliberately, but moved in haste: a tactic intended to make them hurry along and to ignore the countless distractions strewn in their path. "I shall be preceding all of you through many doors-committing an unforgivable breach of etiquette each time-but as you have gathered by now, this palace is no Versailles. Do watch your step." This as he negotiated a series of pantries, stairs, and corridors that might once have been the province of some lower servants. Then he shouldered his way through a door that flushed them into a s.p.a.ce that was startlingly broad and high-roofed: some sort of ancient Hall, where perhaps Earls had dined at long tables. But today it was populated mostly by women. There were two predominant types of furniture: blocks, and stocks. The blocks were nothing more than slices of great tree-trunks, rising to mid-thigh. Before each of these stood a woman. All of the women were young, for their task was too strenuous for girls or dowagers. Each of them wielded a huge mallet: a segment of hardwood tree-trunk a hand-span in diameter and a foot long, impaled on an axe-handle. Snaking along the tops of the blocks were punnies of retted hemp, which is to say, stalks of the hemp plant, a yard taller than a man, and a few inches in diameter, which some months ago had been shorn of their foliage and flung into stagnant ponds in the Lambeth Marshes and weighed down with stones. There, the water had infected and rotted the tissues of those stalks, attacking the interst.i.tial glop that bound the fibers together, but sparing the fibers themselves. Dried in the sun, these had been barged across to Bridewell and piled up in a monstrous f.a.ggot at one end of the hall. Fresh punnies were continually being jerked out of this heap by younger girls, dragged down the pavement, and offered up as for sacrifice on vacant blocks. A punny had no sooner come to rest than a prowling man in an ap.r.o.n raised one hand in the air, brandishing a cane, and gazing hungrily at the sight of a woman's back, protected only by a thin layer of calicoe. If she did not raise her mallet and smash it down on the punny within a heartbeat, the cane would come down with no less violence on her back. Each punny had to be beaten over and over again, all up and down its length and round its circ.u.mference, to break loose the snot of rotted and desiccated pulp from the long dark fibers. The hammers boomed on the blocks in a never-ending fusillade, the debris fell to the floor like dirty snow, or shot up into the air in a roiling cloud. Caroline and Eliza immediately reached for their head-scarves and covered their coifs lest their hair be adulterated with coa.r.s.e hemp-fibers. Soon enough both of the ladies had drawn the tails of those scarves across their mouths and noses too, for the air was saturated with a gas of tiny fiber-sc.r.a.ps that could not be seen but could most certainly be felt when they lodged in the throat or the eyes.

Besides blocks, the other furnishing in the hall was stocks. These had been erected around the walls at regular intervals. Each consisted of two planks mounted in a vertical frame so that they could be slid up and down, and pegged at various discrete alt.i.tudes by means of carved shear-pins. Matching half-moon-shaped notches, of diverse sizes and s.p.a.cings, had been cut into the edges of these planks, so that wrists and necks of varying gauges could be fixed in whatever place and height was most inconvenient to the prisoner, and pleasing to the whims of the responsible official. Most of the stocks were vacant-signifying a well-run shop-but three were occupied by women with their hands stretched up high above their heads. The backs of their dresses were black with oozing and clotting blood.

"Now you know all that is known about the making of hemp and the reformation of morals," Daniel remarked, after they had darted out through a side exit and gotten into a stairway, where it was possible to hear and to breathe. There was a decent pause so that everyone could brush themselves off and blink debris from their eyes. "It astonishes me," Daniel reflected, "that men will see what we have just seen-and yet go out the next day to patronize a brothel. Personally I can imagine no scene less likely to stir amorous feelings in general, or an interest in prost.i.tutes in particular-" but Johann harrumphed and Eliza glared. Caroline seemed to find the discourse interesting enough, but she'd been out-voted. "Very well, then, to the apartment of Miss Hannah Spates we go now. Do watch where you step," Daniel added, unnecessarily, as t.u.r.ds were plainly spread around all over the place.

BRIDEWELL P PALACE WAS TYPICAL English in that, outside of whatever historical process had caused it to end up the way it was, it made no sense whatever. Like Botany, it could be Memorized but not Understood. The visitors had lost their bearings immediately, and by this point in the tour, none of them would have been surprised if Daniel had flung open a door to reveal a secret tunnel under the Thames, or a back entrance to the Inferno. But instead they found themselves on the uppermost storey of some wing, addition or out-building. Hannah Spates and her colleagues lived and worked here, in a large s.p.a.ce under the heavy-burdened rafters of an ancient slate roof. It must have been as cold in the winter as it was stifling today; but it was dry, did not stink, had light from a few windows, and was not decorated with bleeding women. The rafters were steeply sloped, as if trying to shrug off their burden of stone flakes. This gave it the ambience of a Gothick church whose builders had succ.u.mbed to Black Death before they could kit it out with pews and pulpit. English in that, outside of whatever historical process had caused it to end up the way it was, it made no sense whatever. Like Botany, it could be Memorized but not Understood. The visitors had lost their bearings immediately, and by this point in the tour, none of them would have been surprised if Daniel had flung open a door to reveal a secret tunnel under the Thames, or a back entrance to the Inferno. But instead they found themselves on the uppermost storey of some wing, addition or out-building. Hannah Spates and her colleagues lived and worked here, in a large s.p.a.ce under the heavy-burdened rafters of an ancient slate roof. It must have been as cold in the winter as it was stifling today; but it was dry, did not stink, had light from a few windows, and was not decorated with bleeding women. The rafters were steeply sloped, as if trying to shrug off their burden of stone flakes. This gave it the ambience of a Gothick church whose builders had succ.u.mbed to Black Death before they could kit it out with pews and pulpit.

It did at least have an organ-or so the visitors thought at first. The largest single object in the room was a box, the size of a Vagabond-shack but much more finely wrought, of oak planks cleverly joined together, and caulked at the corners with tar and oak.u.m. To one side of it was a row of four large bellows, with a wooden rail mounted a few feet above them. Two women were gripping the rail. Each of them divided her weight between a pair of bellows, one under each foot; these had been rigged in such a way that as one foot descended, expelling air into the great wind-chest, the other inhaled and rose up. The women seemed to be scaling an endless stair. They were a matched set of great busty hippy frazzle-haired wenches with apple-red cheeks, getting riper and shinier by the moment, and they seemed to find this great fun. While gazing with open curiosity at the visitors, they kept an eye on a gla.s.s U-tube filled with mercury, which started one way whenever one of them took her weight off of a foot, and jerked back as she shifted it to the other. A level had been marked on one side of the tube by tying a red ribbon around it. None of the visitors needed to have it explained that the goal of the exercise was to make the mercury climb until it reached the height of that ribbon.

To the other side of the wind-chest was a console looking somewhat like the keyboard of a pipe-organ. But it had only thirty-two keys, with no sharps or flats, and a few of them were stuck down. The organist was a young woman with long cinnamon hair put up in a loose bun. Like every other woman in Bridewell she wore a dress that appeared to have been plucked by a blind man from a parish poor-box; but it was clean and she had obviously devoted many an hour to patching it and taking it in to respect the general shape of her body. As Daniel approached with his guests in train, she sat up straight, reached out, and pulled on an ivory k.n.o.b. A sigh came from the works and the stuck keys all came unstuck at once.

"Your grace," Daniel said, turning to Eliza, "I present Miss Hannah Spates. Miss Spates, this is the lady I told you about."

Hannah Spates rose, and made a pa.s.s at a curtsey.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance," said Eliza, having instantly donned a sincere but distant affect commonly seen among high-born philanthropists obliged to visit hospitals, orphanages, poor-houses, &c. "Pray, what is this instrument? Are we to hear a performance?"

Hannah was wrong-footed by the words "instrument" and "performance" but soon enough decrypted the question without any aid from Daniel. "It is the card-punching machine, your grace," she answered, "it cuts the bits out, as I'm to show you."

"We shall balance the books first," Daniel announced, and led his guests onwards to a back corner of the room, where a semblance of a banca banca had been established. There was a large desk, manned by a clerk. Standing behind him was a gentleman of about fifty, who now stepped forward to be introduced. "Mr. William Ham," Daniel identified him, "my nephew, and the money-goldsmith who tends to our affairs in the City." had been established. There was a large desk, manned by a clerk. Standing behind him was a gentleman of about fifty, who now stepped forward to be introduced. "Mr. William Ham," Daniel identified him, "my nephew, and the money-goldsmith who tends to our affairs in the City."

Pleasantries were exchanged; Eliza allowed as how she had heard of Mr. Ham from friends of hers who were pleased to have done business with him, and William Ham made it known how honored he was by this. He seemed startled and pleased to have been recognized at all, as he was a quiet, well-dressed, but indifferent-looking sort, typical of the newish breed who had taken over the banca banca trade from the menagerie of chandelier-swinging adventurers, intoxicated poltroons, and pathological liars who'd launched it when Daniel had been a young man. trade from the menagerie of chandelier-swinging adventurers, intoxicated poltroons, and pathological liars who'd launched it when Daniel had been a young man.

To business: Daniel handed the little box of gold cards to William Ham, who carried them over to a standing-desk by the window and weighed them on a scale. He called out numbers to the clerk, who repeated them aloud and p.r.i.c.ked them down in a book. The cards were then placed in a strong-box that squatted on the floor-boards next to the banca banca. All, that is, save for one of them, which was handed to a third man: an ap.r.o.ned overseer, struck from the same mould as the ones down in the hemp-pounding shop, save that he was not brandishing a cane. With the care and pomp of a priest bearing the consecrated host across a chancel, he took this to the organ-like device, and set it down, for the nonce, on the music stand above the keyboard. Then he gripped a pair of heavy black wrought-iron handles that projected from the machine's front panel, just above the keyboard, and gave them a mighty jerk. A slab of iron emerged from the machine like a tongue being thrust out. It was flat and smooth as if it had been extruded from a rolling-mill, and for the most part it was devoid of markings or features of any kind. But at the back of it was a shallow square depression perforated by a dense grid of holes, so that it looked like a grille or screen. The overseer plucked the gold card from the music-stand and laid it into the depression, where it fit perfectly and covered up all of the holes with a margin to spare around the edges. Then he put the heels of his hands against the two iron handles and rammed the slab, along with its golden burden, back into the bowels of the machine. As it boomed into place, the discriminating listener could hear a metallic snap, as though some latches had engaged to hold it all in place.

He stepped back. Miss Spates now took up her perch on the bench before the keyboard, and smoothed out her patched skirt. Her first act was to bend forward and peer into a prism mounted on the top of the console. Evidently she did not like what she saw, and so she reached up with both hands and began to turn a pair of iron cranks this way and that, making some adjustment to the position of the pallet. When she was satisfied, she folded her hands demurely in her lap, and looked at Daniel's knees.

"Here is where I am suffered to play a small role," Daniel remarked, reaching into his breast-pocket and drawing out a card of stiff paper that had been the object of several hours' or days' attention from a fine quill-pen. Its edge was decorated with strings of digits and its interior mostly filled with writing in a cramped hand: blocks of text in LATIN and English, English, runes in the Real Character, and brief outbursts of digits. This he handed, with a suggestion of a bow, to Hannah, who rotated it and set it in place on the music-stand. runes in the Real Character, and brief outbursts of digits. This he handed, with a suggestion of a bow, to Hannah, who rotated it and set it in place on the music-stand.

"She can read!?" Johann said incredulously.

"Actually, she she can-thanks to her doting father- can-thanks to her doting father- but this is unusual, and not strictly necessary," Daniel answered. "All they need to be able to do, is to distinguish between a one and a zero-as you may see for yourself by inspecting the card."

Johann, Eliza, and Caroline crowded in behind Miss Spates to peer over her shoulders at the specimen on the music-stand. It bore many styles of numbers and characters; but she had oriented it so that she could read a long string of digits printed along the edge. Every one of those digits was either a 1 or a 0. As the others had been talking, she had been sliding a finger along the keyboard, shoving down some keys but not others. Whenever a key was depressed, snicking and clunking noises would sound from some system of rods and levers back inside the mechanism, and the key would stay where she had put it. It was plain to see that the pattern she was making of those keys was the same as the pattern of ones and zeroes written on the edge of the card: wherever she saw a 1, she depressed the corresponding key, and wherever she saw a 0, she skipped over it.

The minute and exacting toil of Miss Spates was accompanied by loud, sweaty, vigorous labor from the bellows-pumping wenches, who had put on a crescendo, trying to stomp the mercury up to the red ribbon. "By your leave, sir," one of them gasped, "sometimes we sing a song, as sailors do when they heave on a hawser."

"Pray carry on!" Daniel returned, to the dismay of the overseer who had just opened his mouth to ban it.

Oh have you met Miss Sally Brown The country's fairest daughter, The country's fairest daughter, She works the handle up and down, She works the handle up and down, To pump the farmer's water To pump the farmer's water Pumpin' Sal, pumpin' Sal, Pumpin' Sal, pumpin' Sal, No one does it like that little gal, No one does it like that little gal, Jump to the pump and work that rod, Jump to the pump and work that rod, And make your fellow a lucky sod! And make your fellow a lucky sod! Sally moved to London Town Sally moved to London Town And soon became misguided, And soon became misguided, She pumped the men who came around, She pumped the men who came around, And sent them home delighted. And sent them home delighted. Pumpin' Sal, pumpin' Sal, [etc.] Pumpin' Sal, pumpin' Sal, [etc.] Sally lives in Bridewell now Sally lives in Bridewell now Pumping is her ch.o.r.e 'gain. Pumping is her ch.o.r.e 'gain. She wears her legs out for to power She wears her legs out for to power A Virtuoso's Organ. A Virtuoso's Organ. Pumpin' Sal, pumpin' Sal, [etc.] Pumpin' Sal, pumpin' Sal, [etc.]

At the final beat, the quicksilver in the tube finally shot up to kiss the ribbon. Hannah Spates hauled back on an ivory k.n.o.b that she had been gripping in sweaty expectation. The machine hissed, not from one place but from many, like fragments of a burst cannon raining into the sea.

Mounted to the top of the wind-box was a row of what had at first appeared to be organ-pipes. Each was several inches in diameter and a yard long. They were arranged in a segment of an arc whose center was a dense complex of rods and levers atop the console, and whose radius was a couple of yards. The pipes were joined to the console by bra.s.s levers that fanned out from the center like rays of the sun. Some of these, but not others, suddenly went into motion.

It now became obvious that pistons were concealed within those cylinders, and some of them were being pressed up by air from the wind-chest. As they moved they elevated the ends of the bra.s.s levers. Each lever pivoted around an oiled fulcrum that was far from the piston, and close to the central mechanism, giving it a large mechanical advantage at the latter end. The rapid upward thrust of each piston caused the opposite end of its lever to press downward slowly, but with great force; and each of those lever-ends bore down upon a slim vertical rod. The rods were thirty-two in number, arranged in a regular picket-line; each of them resisted movement for a few heart-beats and then gave way, as if some barrier had been breached. This sudden yielding enabled the piston at the opposite end to fly up until it tripped a lever affixed to a vertical pushrod on the outside of its pipe. The pushrod transmitted force down to some air-gate at the base of the pipe, which sprang open, allowing the piston to fall down to its starting-place. It was all over in a few moments. Miss Spates pulled the k.n.o.b that caused all the keys to pop up to the zero position.

The coda coda to the performance was a faint skirling noise that emanated from the works for a few seconds. Then a little golden spume jetted from a cavity on the front of the console, and was caught by a porcelain bowl beneath. Daniel s.n.a.t.c.hed this and showed it to the visitors. It contained several tiny disks of gold, like faery-coins, some of which were still spinning and buzzing round on their rims. "These bits," Daniel said, "are all of a common weight, which means that to to the performance was a faint skirling noise that emanated from the works for a few seconds. Then a little golden spume jetted from a cavity on the front of the console, and was caught by a porcelain bowl beneath. Daniel s.n.a.t.c.hed this and showed it to the visitors. It contained several tiny disks of gold, like faery-coins, some of which were still spinning and buzzing round on their rims. "These bits," Daniel said, "are all of a common weight, which means that to weigh weigh them is to them is to count count them; the count is then tallied." them; the count is then tallied."

"Tallied in what way?" Johann asked.

"The clerk examines the card," Daniel said, indicating the snarled doc.u.ment Miss Spates had been reading from, "and checks the sum of each number, to know how many bits ought to have been punched out; if this agrees not with the number of bits in the bowl, the card is in error, and is sent back to be re-melted. A rare occurrence, for Miss Spates Miss Spates does not make does not make Mis-takes Mis-takes!"

Indeed Miss Spates had already reached up to grip a bra.s.s lever, and hauled back on it once; this had ratcheted the iron pallet a short distance deeper into the machine, as she verified by a glance into the prism. The bellows-wenches were singing again, and Miss Spates had found a new number on the card, and was registering it upon the keys. In a few moments came another climax of singing, hissing, and clunking; another convulsion of many levers and another rill of golden bits. After several more repet.i.tions, Hannah Spates rose and got out of the way; the bellows-wenches climbed down and headed off in the direction of a beer-bucket; and the overseer stepped in to haul the iron pallet backwards out of the machine. He retrieved the golden card, which had been Swiss-cheesed by scores of neat round holes. Each of these was situated at an intersection of the Grid of Monsieur Descartes; but not all of the intersections had been punched. The result was a curious admixture of order and randomness, perhaps akin to what one would observe in a neatly printed message that was, however, written in some inscrutable cypher.

"My understanding of Clerkenwell Court has been much advanced," was Eliza's verdict, "and yet there remains much that is mysterious. I see, for example, why you have recruited organ-makers. But not the man who makes lightning."

"We bought a stock of parts from a Dutch organ-maker who was returning to his home country, and so this machine was fabricated using the tricks of that trade," Daniel allowed. "A toy-maker, a horologist, or electrical electrical enthusiast might have reached the same destination, via a different route." enthusiast might have reached the same destination, via a different route."

"But this is not, as I gather, the machine that does the thinking?"

"The Logic Mill will be a different machine entirely," Daniel said.

"Will be? And so it does not exist yet?" And so it does not exist yet?"

"The punching of the cards will take a great deal of time, even if we build many more machines like this one, and put all of Bridewell to work," Daniel said. "Moreover, the Logic Mill cannot be designed, built, or tested, until we have some samples of cards to give it. And so in our work to date we have borne down very hard on the card-punching problem. As you have seen, that problem is solved. Additional machines like this one are now being made; but most of our efforts may now be devoted to the Logic Mill." Daniel cleared his throat delicately. "A significant infusion of Capital would be most welcome."

"I should say so!" Johann exclaimed. "Why are you making the cards out of gold gold?"

"It is ductile, hence easily made into cards of perfectly uniform thickness. Yet it is durable, for it is the only metal that does not rust or tarnish. But that that is not why we need capital. Strange to relate, we already have enough gold locked away in our vault to transcribe all of the paper cards that I brought with me." is not why we need capital. Strange to relate, we already have enough gold locked away in our vault to transcribe all of the paper cards that I brought with me."

"Please say more on that-?" Eliza requested.

"Oh, when I came here from Boston I brought several boxes of these paper cards-enough to inform the logical kernel of a machine."

"Why did you?"

"Because, madame, the Ma.s.sachusetts Bay Colony Inst.i.tute of Technologickal Arts has been generously supported by men of some importance, and I thought they might like to see tangible evidence that I had actually been doing something. No, I did not antic.i.p.ate any of this." He extended a hand toward the machine, and followed up with a judicious hooding of the eyelids, and a nod at Caroline.

"There are more cards still in Boston, then?"

"I left almost all of them behind in Ma.s.sachusetts. But G.o.d willing they are at this very moment being loaded into the hold of a ship, Minerva Minerva, which I believe is known to you. She sailed from London in late April, and ought to have reached Boston Harbor last week."

"When Minerva, Minerva, G.o.d willing, returns to London, then you shall have need of more gold for making into cards," Johann observed. G.o.d willing, returns to London, then you shall have need of more gold for making into cards," Johann observed.

"By a happy coincidence," Daniel said with a dry smile, "more gold is expected to reach us, by sea, at the same time. And so when I speak of our need for capital, I am not not referring to gold for card-making." referring to gold for card-making."

"As a sort of technologickal adventurer, Doctor, you are suffered, nay encouraged, to imbibe of a sort of optimism that in other disciplines-such as finance-would be reckoned incompetence," Eliza said. "I am being asked to act as a financier, and can afford myself no such luxury. I say that you are gambling too much on the likelihood that two ships-one freighted with cards, the other with gold-shall arrive in London safely and at the same time." am being asked to act as a financier, and can afford myself no such luxury. I say that you are gambling too much on the likelihood that two ships-one freighted with cards, the other with gold-shall arrive in London safely and at the same time."

"The point is well taken," Daniel said, "and so let me simplify matters by letting you know that the cards and the gold are on the same ship. are on the same ship."

"Minerva carries both?" carries both?"

"And I think you know what a fine ship she is. I would sooner trust gold to the bilge of Minerva Minerva than the vaults of many a than the vaults of many a banca banca. It is safe to predict that, round the beginning of August, she will drop anchor in the Pool, and we shall have all of the requisites to punch a large number of these cards. What is wanted, in the meantime, is financing to sustain the operations of Clerkenwell Court, so that we may build the Logic Mill."

"May I presume that you have already tried and failed to get additional support from your benefactor?"

"Roger Comstock is the one who proposed that I consult you, madame."

"I never thought one such as he could run out of money."

"Properly speaking, it is a question of liquidity liquidity. Much now hangs in the political balance, as you know. The perils that have forced Princess Caroline to seek refuge far from the gardens of Hanover, have not failed to press in, almost as hotly, on the Marquis of Ravenscar. He has extended his resources to the utmost, readying and arming himself for the coming struggle against Bolingbroke."

"And not without effect, if yesterday's news from Parliament be true," Johann put in.

"Yesterday was a victory for Comstock-but it was little more than a skirmish skirmish. Ahead lie battles battles."

"It is a wonder he has time or money for Logic Mills at all," Johann remarked.

"In truth, he does not, and has quite forgotten about us for now," Daniel said.

"So you require a sort of bridge loan," Eliza said.

"Indeed, madame."