The Baroque Cycle - The System Of The World Part 47

"Roger-"

"Like Cloudesley Shovell, seeing the Rocks of Scilly emerging from the murk, only after 'twas too late to turn his Fleet aside from its fatal Course, I now, on the very threshold of Bolingbroke's den, perceive my error in despatching you and that other Natural Philosopher to parley with this wily Black-guard."

"It is not quite as dismal as all that, Roger."

"Tell me something, then, that is not perfectly and utterly abominably bad news."

"We got an early start this afternoon, and have worked through all of the preliminary rounds of the Negotiation, using Sean Partry as our go-between. All of the posturing, bluffing, and nonsense is behind us. Now we are down to the final exchange. The prisoner holds out. We are taking a little recess, now, so that he may cool his heels and contemplate the terrors that await him on Friday. Meanwhile I come to you, wanting to know: what is the most we could offer this man, supposing he could bring us information, today, that should enable us to catch Jack-or at least prove that Jack tampered with the Pyx?"

"If it came down to that-Daniel, look me in the eye," Roger said. "You must not offer this save as a last, desperate measure, and then only if it is sure to bring about our victory."

"I understand."

"If this chap can help me bring down Bolingbroke, I'll break him out of Newgate Prison and set him up with a farm in Carolina."

"Splendid, Roger."

"Not a manor, manor, mind you, but a patch of dirt, a pointed stick, and a chicken." mind you, but a patch of dirt, a pointed stick, and a chicken."

"It is more than he deserves, and more than I'd hoped for."

"Now get thee gone to the Black Dogg. I can only draw out the evening's game for so long." Roger finally permitted himself a glance toward Bolingbroke's house. At least three Viscounts were looking back at him, from different windows. This reminded Daniel of something.

"We are to re-convene in an hour," said Daniel, checking his watch.

"An hour hour!?"

"Then all should go quickly. And I shall use that hour to our advantage. Enjoy your dinner, Roger, and don't drink too much."

"All I need do is drink less than my opponent. Easy."

"But I would that you were sober enough to enjoy your victory."

"I would that you were drunk enough to act a little less deliberately."

But Daniel was already scurrying up the portable steps of the phaethon that Roger had lent him. "Leicester Fields," he said to the driver.

Leicester House HALF AN HOUR LATER.

"IN THIS COUNTRY, as you may know, there is a tacit rule, observed by all the n.o.bility and Quality, Tory and Whig alike, forbidding the use of the Mobb in politics." as you may know, there is a tacit rule, observed by all the n.o.bility and Quality, Tory and Whig alike, forbidding the use of the Mobb in politics."

"I had no idea," said Princess Caroline, "but then I suppose that is what makes a thing tacit." Her English had gotten rather better during her weeks in London.

"No doubt when your royal highness shall reign over a peaceful and contented Britain, the rule shall be observed without fail," Daniel continued, "as it has been now for at least a quarter of a century."

"Except for during Parliamentary elections, of course," put in the d.u.c.h.ess of Arcachon-Qwghlm.

"Naturally," Daniel said, "and the odd church-burning or a.s.sa.s.sination. But I cannot be certain that it shall be obeyed tonight tonight. On both sides of the Whig-Tory division I have lately seen a worrisome want of discretion. Bolingbroke's position, just now, is at once formidable, and fatally precarious. He is like a man who has scaled most of a stone wall with his fingernails and reached the point where he can just peek over the top, and see a safe place to stand-even as the danger of losing his grip and falling to the rocks below has never been greater. Now he will flail about and grasp at anything that might enable him to heave himself to safety. Why should he stick at violating this rule concerning the Mobb, just this once?"

They were in a chamber in Leicester House that had probably been styled a Grand Salon Grand Salon on the architect's drawings, aeons ago. By the time the plaster had dried and the Stuarts had moved in, it had probably been called a salon; nowadays it would be a on the architect's drawings, aeons ago. By the time the plaster had dried and the Stuarts had moved in, it had probably been called a salon; nowadays it would be a salle salle, or a walk-in closet. None of your froth of Rokoko plasterwork here. It was lined with wooden panels that never stopped popping. They were a shade of brown that was darker than black. Its several windows looked out over Leicester Fields, but these had been annihilated by clever shutters that could not be distinguished from wall-panels without a.s.siduous knuckle-rapping. It was small, dark, and mean, but Eliza seemed to like it, and Daniel had to admit that on an evening such as this one there was something comforting about the place.

"This Mobb is oft spoken of, but never seen," said the Princess.

Daniel Waterhouse and Johann von Hacklheber, at the same instant, filled their lungs and opened their mouths to explain to her that she was wrong. But each hesitated, thinking to let the other speak first, and so the next voice heard was Caroline's. "You are about to curdle my blood with Mobb-tales, I know," she said. "But to me the notion is philosophically offensive. Doctor Leibniz has given much deep thought to the question of collective ent.i.ties, such as a herd of sheep, and concluded that these must be regarded as aggregations of monads. What is true of a herd of sheep is more true of a Mobb of Londoners. They are all individual souls. This Mobb is a fabrication of minds too lazy to treat them as such."

"Yet I have seen the Mobb," said Daniel. "Some would say, I have been been it." it."

"And yet you are as intelligent a man as ever G.o.d made," Caroline said. "This proves that the Mobb is an incoherent concept."

"I got a taste of the Mobb, the day Dappa was chased down Threadneedle Street with a bounty on his head," said Johann von Hacklheber. "Though made up of individual souls, it did have a sort of collective will about it."

"Pfui!"

"This is idle," said Eliza, "you can take it up with the Doctor in Hanover. We must tend to matters at hand. Johann, on the day that Dappa was taken, the Mobb had been incited by hand-bills printed and distributed by Charles White. How do you suppose Bolingbroke might animate the Mobb in the present crisis?"

"Understand, your grace, that ninety out of a hundred in the Mobb are simply criminals who want only the lamest of pretexts to run riot," Daniel said. "They are like the charge of coa.r.s.e powder in a musket's barrel. It is detonated by a pinch of fine powder in the weapon's pan. Which is to say that one provocateur, provocateur, moved by Party Malice, might incite ten or a hundred of the rabble to run amok. Bolingbroke will have such moved by Party Malice, might incite ten or a hundred of the rabble to run amok. Bolingbroke will have such provocateurs provocateurs posted in squares and streets where they can sway as many as possible. In order to inspire posted in squares and streets where they can sway as many as possible. In order to inspire them them-to put fire to the pan-powder-he needs only some small scandal or incident. Among other things, he might expose the presence of Hanoverian spies in London."

"I see," said the Princess. "It was foolish for me to have come, then."

"No, for it may have spared your royal highness's life from the a.s.sa.s.sins of de Gex," said Daniel.

"It would would have been foolish," said Johann, "to have come here without having been prepared for this night." He locked eyes with his mother as he said this. Eliza stood up. have been foolish," said Johann, "to have come here without having been prepared for this night." He locked eyes with his mother as he said this. Eliza stood up.

"Mother and son have been cleverly at work," Caroline guessed, "while the silly Princess has been delighting in her naughty adventure."

" 'Twas ever thus, and ever shall be, as long as we have Royals," said Eliza. "You may repay our labours by doing deeds that are beyond our scope."

"Easily said," said the Princess. "At this moment, what can I-"

"You can fly, and fly well," Eliza said. "Royal flight is a grand tradition. Elizabeth, Charles II, Louis XIV, the Winter Queen, all had to fly at some point in their lives, and all carried it off well."

"James II did it poorly," Daniel reflected. Then, not to be a party-p.o.o.per, recovered with: "But you are made of better stuff."

"And unlike him, the Princess has friends, and a plan," said Johann, "though she doesn't know it. I can set this plan in motion with a word. Is that what you recommend, Dr. Waterhouse?"

Now this was a rather weighty matter to have placed on Daniel's shoulders. As a younger man he'd have been paralyzed by the responsibility. But all decisions had come to him easier, somehow, since he had learnt that he was supposed to be dead anyway. "Oh, by all means," he said. "You must fly. But I would have a word with her grace, if the plan permits it."

Eliza smiled. "The plan calls for Johann and Caroline to change clothes first of all," she said, and excused the two of them with a smile, and a flicker of the eyelids. Johann turned away, blindly thrusting a hand behind him, and Caroline's hand dove into it like a falcon stooping on game, and thus they made for the door, he striding, bent forward, and she floating, erect as a Princess was supposed to be. As they gained the anteroom, Johann began to distribute commands, in German, to various persons who had quietly convened there during the quarter of an hour since Daniel had arrived. One of these thrust his head and arm into the room, favored Eliza with a deferential nod, and Daniel with a flash of the whites of his eyes, and pulled the door to so sharply that every panel in the room gave a sympathetic pop.

"You are alone with me," Eliza observed. "A scenario scenario oft sung of by the poets of the Kit-Cat Clubb." oft sung of by the poets of the Kit-Cat Clubb."

Daniel smiled. "If they sing of this, I shall be likened to t.i.thonus, who was granted aeternal life, and turned into a cricket."

"As a ploy," Eliza said, "your modesty serves. I see how it must work on those who are young, vain, and do not know you well. To me who know you better, it is grating. Please speak plainly, without flattering me or deprecating yourself; we do not have time."

Daniel inhaled deeply, like a man who has just been doused with icy water. Then he said: "I bring you news concerning Jack Shaftoe."

It was Eliza's turn to gasp. She turned her back on him so quickly that the hem of her skirt sawed at his ankles. She retreated several steps, then arranged herself on a bench between two of the shuttered windows. Daniel stood sideways to her, so as not to dwell on the pinkness of her face.

"I was led to believe you were pursuing pursuing him. How can-" him. How can-"

"I am doing so, and I will catch him," Daniel said, "but this has not prevented him, clever chap that he is, from contriving a way to place in my ear certain words that were plainly intended for you."

"And what are those words, sir?"

"That everything he has been doing lately, he has been doing out of love for you."

"That is a very strange way of showing love, love," she returned. "Making counterfeit money for the King of France, and blowing people up."

"He has not actually blown anyone up," Daniel reminded her, "and as for the King of France, some would point out that he is also the liege-lord of Arcachon."

"Thank you for pointing it out," she said. "Is that the entire message?"

"That he loves you? Yes, I believe that is it."

"Well, when you catch him, you may give him my answer," she said, rising to her feet, "which is that the decision he made at the wharf in Amsterdam was the sort that cannot be unmade; and as proof, one need only behold what Jack has become in the thirty years since-all of which might have been predicted from the choice he made on that day."

"I have an inkling that Jack is now striving to become something rather different," Daniel said, "which you may not not have predicted." have predicted."

"That is what young young Jack-who, I must admit, was a dreamy lad-would have done," Eliza said. "The wretch that he is now is not capable of it." Jack-who, I must admit, was a dreamy lad-would have done," Eliza said. "The wretch that he is now is not capable of it."

"Never was a mailed and spiked gauntlet more harshly thrown down. I am off to the Black Dogg now," Daniel said, excusing himself with a careful bow, "and I shall deliver that fell challenge to Jack, if fortune leads me to him."

Newgate Prison HALF AN HOUR LATER.

WHATEVER THE PLAN WAS that Johann von Hacklheber had laid for the extraction of Princess Caroline from the snares of London, it evidently did not rely on stealth. Such was the crowd and the commotion that Daniel half feared that the much-discussed Mobb had already conquered the stables of Leicester House. But not to worry, they were loyal servants and retainers all. Daniel found his phaethon and commanded the driver to take it round Leicester Fields and collect Sir Isaac Newton. This was achieved shortly and in absurdly conspicuous style. The diverse spies planted in and around Leicester Fields by political factions, foreign governments, nervous speculators, and Grub Street newspapers, would all report to their masters that a cricket-like geezer had scurried out of the London home of the d.u.c.h.ess of Arcachon-Qwghlm, hopped into an inappropriately seductive and libidinous Mode of Transport, swung round to s.n.a.t.c.h the World's Greatest Natural Philosopher, and thundered off in the direction of-Newgate Prison. What the recipients would make of this information was anyone's guess. Daniel was past caring. that Johann von Hacklheber had laid for the extraction of Princess Caroline from the snares of London, it evidently did not rely on stealth. Such was the crowd and the commotion that Daniel half feared that the much-discussed Mobb had already conquered the stables of Leicester House. But not to worry, they were loyal servants and retainers all. Daniel found his phaethon and commanded the driver to take it round Leicester Fields and collect Sir Isaac Newton. This was achieved shortly and in absurdly conspicuous style. The diverse spies planted in and around Leicester Fields by political factions, foreign governments, nervous speculators, and Grub Street newspapers, would all report to their masters that a cricket-like geezer had scurried out of the London home of the d.u.c.h.ess of Arcachon-Qwghlm, hopped into an inappropriately seductive and libidinous Mode of Transport, swung round to s.n.a.t.c.h the World's Greatest Natural Philosopher, and thundered off in the direction of-Newgate Prison. What the recipients would make of this information was anyone's guess. Daniel was past caring.

THEY ENCOUNTERED P PARTRY in the Gigger, which was a pit just off Newgate Street, under the actual Gate, where free men could swop words with prisoners through a grate. Partry was using it in lieu of an anteroom to the Black Dogg. "What news from Ravenscar?" came his voice through the grille. in the Gigger, which was a pit just off Newgate Street, under the actual Gate, where free men could swop words with prisoners through a grate. Partry was using it in lieu of an anteroom to the Black Dogg. "What news from Ravenscar?" came his voice through the grille.

"First, shall we have the privilege of meeting the other party to the negotiation?" Daniel asked. "It is difficult to parley with a phantom."

"As you you are but a phantom to are but a phantom to him, him, he would likely agree." he would likely agree."

"Then let us get together in the same room at least!"

"It is arranged," Partry said. "I have rented the Black Dogg for the evening. We shall meet him there-the privacy of an empty tavern should loosen his tongue. But you must be prepared to loosen your purse-strings."

"That has been arranged as well," Daniel a.s.sured him. "If need be, we may offer the prisoner liberty, and a farm in Carolina. But only if need be."

"Now that that is excessive!" Isaac said. "The promise of a quicker than usual hanging should be more than sufficient." is excessive!" Isaac said. "The promise of a quicker than usual hanging should be more than sufficient."

"As perhaps it shall be," Daniel said, "but if it does not suffice, why, we shall have room to bargain."

"Very well," said Partry, "to the Black Dogg! Mind your step as you descend the stairs, for they are quite slippery with crushed lice."

"More so than usual?" Daniel asked.

"Indeed," said Partry, "for as I just told you, I have cleared out the Dogg, and many have pa.s.sed this way, only a few minutes ago, who had not stirred from their bar-stools and corners in a long while; there is no guessing what may have scattered from out of their rags."

"Aye, all of London is astir to-night!" Daniel remarked.

"All, save what is on the treads of these stairs," Partry insisted. "Pray, let me go ahead of you, and light your way with my lantern."

Following Partry, and preceding Isaac, down toward the Black Dogg, Daniel said: "How curious that to me it seemeth like any other stone stair-way in the world."

"Why is that so curious?" Isaac wanted to know.

"We speak of Newgate as a dread place," Daniel said, "but emptied of its prisoners, 'tis but another building-a bit stinkier than most, perhaps."

"The same might be remarked of its Pub," said Partry, heaving wide an iron-bound dungeon-door to release a surprising flood of candle-light, and an even worse than expected front of midden-stench.

"So it is really the people people of Newgate who inspire us with dread, you are saying," said Isaac. of Newgate who inspire us with dread, you are saying," said Isaac.

"Has the Black Dogg ever been so lit up in its whole sorry history?" asked Daniel as he pa.s.sed through the door. For the place was as littered with candles as the steps had been with lice. And they were proper wax tapers, not rush-lights. Even the dining-room of Viscount Bolingbroke was not so finely illumined to-night. The Black Dogg was not the sort of tavern that contained a great deal of furniture-patrons either stood, or lay on the floor. There was a bar, of course, in the literal sense of a bulwark erected between the prisoners and the gin. This was now a palisade of burning tapers. Sean Partry led them over to it. Daniel followed half-way, but stopped in the center of the room to have a look round. His eyes were yet adjusting to the brightness, but he could see plainly enough that no one else was here.

"Where is the-" he began.

"How much in G.o.d's name has been spent on candles!?" Isaac demanded. "A fortune! Have you gone mad?"

"My going mad days are done," said Partry, turning his back on the bar, so that he became a shade halving the beam of fire. "Do not concern yourselves about it. I have paid for the candles with my own money. When we are finished I'll give 'em away to prisoners who cannot afford to buy even the mean grease-lights that are peddled by the gaolers, and whose eyes have forgotten light."

"You presume much," Isaac said. He and Daniel were shoulder-to-shoulder now, facing Partry, the heat of the candles on their faces like summer sun. "Nothing shall be paid you until we have achieved our goal. Where is the prisoner?"

"There is no prisoner," said Partry, "and never has been. I've been lying to you the entire time. Any information you are given to-night, concerning the whereabouts of Jack Shaftoe, shall come, not from some suppositious prisoner, but from me."

"Why have you lied to us?" Isaac asked.

"Lying to you enabled me to set up a meeting on neutral ground," answered Partry, and stomped his foot on the pavement. "Here, I feel safe in divulging my information."

"And what is that information, at long last?" Isaac demanded.

"That I am Jack Shaftoe," answered Jack Shaftoe, "alias Jack the Coiner, Jack the Coiner, alias alias Quicksilver, and many other nick-names and t.i.tles besides; and that I am willing to wind up my career to-night, provided the right terms can be struck." Quicksilver, and many other nick-names and t.i.tles besides; and that I am willing to wind up my career to-night, provided the right terms can be struck."

Golden Square THE SAME TIME.

IF THE POINT OF A dinner-party was to bring interesting people together and lay excellent food and wine in front of them, then the Viscount Bolingbroke's dinner-party was to bring interesting people together and lay excellent food and wine in front of them, then the Viscount Bolingbroke's soiree soiree was the event of the year. Some would complain that the guest-list was weighted too heavily to Whigs; but then, as of yesterday, Bolingbroke was the event of the year. Some would complain that the guest-list was weighted too heavily to Whigs; but then, as of yesterday, Bolingbroke was was Torydom, and as such needed no coterie. On the other hand, if the point of a dinner-party was to start fascinating conversations, then this was the grossest failure, to date, of the Age of Enlightenment; why, Robert Walpole was actually Torydom, and as such needed no coterie. On the other hand, if the point of a dinner-party was to start fascinating conversations, then this was the grossest failure, to date, of the Age of Enlightenment; why, Robert Walpole was actually humming humming to fill in the silences. A dozen men were at the table; only two of them-Bolingbroke and Ravenscar-had authority to parley; and yet these two seemed perfectly content with plate and bottle, and with the dreadful silence of the room. From time to time one of the younger Whigs would try to launch a Topic of Conversation, and like a spark struck into moss it would sputter and smoke along for a few moments, until Bolingbroke or Ravenscar would dump a bucket of water on it by saying, "Pa.s.s the salt." The meal sprinted from one course to the next, as the guests had nothing to pa.s.s the time save chewing and swallowing. It was not until pudding that Bolingbroke could be troubled to make a Gambit. "My lord," he said to Roger, "it has been to fill in the silences. A dozen men were at the table; only two of them-Bolingbroke and Ravenscar-had authority to parley; and yet these two seemed perfectly content with plate and bottle, and with the dreadful silence of the room. From time to time one of the younger Whigs would try to launch a Topic of Conversation, and like a spark struck into moss it would sputter and smoke along for a few moments, until Bolingbroke or Ravenscar would dump a bucket of water on it by saying, "Pa.s.s the salt." The meal sprinted from one course to the next, as the guests had nothing to pa.s.s the time save chewing and swallowing. It was not until pudding that Bolingbroke could be troubled to make a Gambit. "My lord," he said to Roger, "it has been ages ages since I could free myself to attend a meeting of the good old R.S. Oh, are there any other Fellows present?" He looked round the table. His eyes were too close together, his nose was high-bridged and long: features more suited to a carnivorous beast than a human. So he was far from good-looking; yet his ugliness was of that sort that suggests caution, rather than mockery, to the onlooker. His mouth was tiny and pursed. But then, the muzzle of a gun was not so very large either. Bolingbroke's one adventure in the realm of fashion had been to wear a radically small and simple periwig one day, when he went to pay a call on the Queen. She had rewarded him by asking if, next time around, he intended to show up wearing a night-cap. Tonight he had donned the full wig: white curls tumbling down beyond his shoulders, over his lapels, to somewhere between the lat.i.tude of his nipples and of his waist. His cravat was white, and wrapped many times round his neck, like a bandage. It and the wig framed his face like an ostrich-egg swaddled in a shipping-crate. This was the face that scanned down the left, then up the right side of the table, until it fell upon the Marquis of Ravenscar, who was seated at his right hand. since I could free myself to attend a meeting of the good old R.S. Oh, are there any other Fellows present?" He looked round the table. His eyes were too close together, his nose was high-bridged and long: features more suited to a carnivorous beast than a human. So he was far from good-looking; yet his ugliness was of that sort that suggests caution, rather than mockery, to the onlooker. His mouth was tiny and pursed. But then, the muzzle of a gun was not so very large either. Bolingbroke's one adventure in the realm of fashion had been to wear a radically small and simple periwig one day, when he went to pay a call on the Queen. She had rewarded him by asking if, next time around, he intended to show up wearing a night-cap. Tonight he had donned the full wig: white curls tumbling down beyond his shoulders, over his lapels, to somewhere between the lat.i.tude of his nipples and of his waist. His cravat was white, and wrapped many times round his neck, like a bandage. It and the wig framed his face like an ostrich-egg swaddled in a shipping-crate. This was the face that scanned down the left, then up the right side of the table, until it fell upon the Marquis of Ravenscar, who was seated at his right hand.

"No, my lord," said Ravenscar, "there are only we two."