Philip Kerr - Dark Matter

“Why, sir,” she exclaimed to him, beginning to sound an aggrieved note, “whatever was the matter? You have given us such a fright. We were sure your mind was gone.”

“I apologise for having alarmed you both,” he whispered. “There are times when my thinking so occupies me that it produces certain outward effects upon my person that give the appearance of my having suffered a stroke of God’s almighty hand. The cause is quite a mystery even to me, and therefore I don’t apologise for saying I have no other explanation for you, except to say that a great clarity of thought is usually brought about by this strange excursion from my own physical body, which, rest assured, is something I have encountered before.”

But examining his face I saw that he looked pale and drawn, as if a great weight still lay upon his soul.

“But are you quite sure you are recovered, sir?” enquired Miss Barton. “Should a physician not be called to ascertain that you are indeed as well as you say?”

“’Tis true, sir,” I said. “You look pale.”

“Perhaps you should eat something,” suggested Miss Barton. “Drink some coffee, perhaps.”

“My dear, I am quite recovered,” insisted Newton. “You did well to listen to Mister Ellis.”

“You were able to hear our discourse?” I asked.

“Oh yes, I have seen and heard everything that has gone on in this room.”

“Everything?” demanded Miss Barton. I could see by her blushing that she referred to that business with the chamber pot.

“Everything,” confirmed Newton, whose confession had chased away every remnant of her smile.

“But, sir,” I said, changing the subject for pity of her, “perhaps you are not as recovered as you think you are. For it was not earlier today that Miss Barton spoke of physicians, but yesterday. It is almost twenty-four hours since I found you seated in that chair.”

“So long as that?” breathed Newton, and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Aye sir.”

“I was thinking about the cipher,” he said absently.

“This morrow you must appear before the Lords Justices,” said I.

Newton shook his head. “Say no more on that for now,” he said.

“Then what would you have me do, sir?”

“There’s nothing to be done.”

“I agree with Miss Barton,” said I. “We should all eat some breakfast. And speaking for myself, I am uncommonly hungry.”

I never ate so much as I ate that morning. But Newton sipped some coffee and ate only a little dried bread, as if he had little appetite for food. No doubt he was much preoccupied with his meeting with Their Lordships, which was now imminent. And, after breakfast, we took Miss Barton back to Jermyn Street, at which point Newton declared, most strangely, “It is my considered opinion, that girl is in love.”

“What makes you think so, sir?” I asked coolly, although I felt myself blushing.

“I live with her, Ellis. Do you think my own niece is invisible to me? I may not read sonnets all night, but I think I can recognise love’s peculiar manifestations. What’s more, I’ll warrant I know the lucky fellow.” And with that he smiled at me, a most knowing smile, so that I found myself smiling back at him like an idiot, and thinking that perhaps there was still some hope for me.

From Jermyn Street, Mister Woston conveyed us both to Whitehall, and Their Lordships. Newton seemed more perturbed by the ordeal that lay before him than I had ever seen him; even when he had faced Scroope’s pistol, he had not seemed so much affected as he was now.

“It is only an informal audience,” he said, as if trying to reassure himself about what was to happen. “Their Lordships’ letter was most specific about that. And I have every hope that this matter will be quickly resolved. But, if you will be so kind, I should like you to record my words, in case I have need of a formal transcript of these proceedings.”

And so it was that I was permitted to enter the chamber where the Lords Justices who governed the country were assembled. Their faces did not encourage optimism, viewing Newton as if they wished to be elsewhere, and as if they had conceived some disdain for him, and would not suffer his renowned intelligence to make fools of them.

I was quickly able to perceive the true character of the allegations that were being made, and how perhaps my master had underestimated the gravity of his position — if one might say such a thing about Isaac Newton — for, soon after our going into Their Lordships, they touched upon the seriousness of the situation and their strong dislike of all religious dissenters and occasional conformists. After which the porter brought Count Gaetano into the room — he that had attempted fraudulently to deceive my master into believing that he had turned lead into gold.

Remaining on his feet, to make his statement before Their Lordships, Gaetano appeared nervous and most unpersuasive, but even so I had not expected the Italian to lie so egregiously, and there were moments during his testimony when I was so shocked at his testimony that I was almost unable to keep a note of what he said.

He charged that Newton had dishonestly solicited a bribe in order that that he should verify that the gold sample the Count had shown him was genuine. He also charged that Newton had threatened to go before the Royal Society and, upon his oath, to denounce the Count as a fraud if he did not pay my master the sum of fifty guineas; and that when the Count cautioned Newton against false swearing, my master had laughed and told him how he cared not what he swore upon the Bible, since he did not believe anything that was written in it anyway.

Reminding Newton that, by case of law of 1676, English common law was the custodian of Scripture and, to some extent, doctrine, Their Lordships said that these were serious allegations made against Newton, although he was not on trial; and that their only aim was to make certain that the wardenship of the Mint was entrusted to a fit and proper person. It was milord Harley who led the enquiry against Newton, and milord Halifax who did the most to defend him.

Newton rose to his feet to answer the Italian’s charges. He spoke entirely without emotion, as if he had been debating a matter of science with members of the Royal Society; but I could see how shaken he was by these allegations, which did cleverly mix the circumstances of the Count’s transmutation with the ambiguous character of Newton’s faith.

“I should like Your Lordships’ permission to lay before Your Lordships a letter that has been sent to me from the Dutch ambassador in London,” said Newton.

Their Lordships nodded, at which point Newton did hand me the letter to convey to their table. I got up, picked up the letter, brought it to the table, bowed gravely, laid it before them, and then returned to my chair next to Newton.

“It will confirm that the Count stole fifteen thousand marks from the ambassador’s cousin at the court of Vienna.”

“That’s a damned lie,” declared the Count.

“Count Gaetano,” said milord Halifax, handing the letter along the table for Their Lordships’ perusal. “You have spoken. You must allow Doctor Newton the chance to refute your allegations, without interruption.”

“Thank you, milord. The ambassador,” declared Newton, “informs me in this letter how he is prepared to give evidence in person that the Count has travelled Europe obtaining money under the pretence of demonstrating the transmutatory art. In London he is the Count Gaetano; but in Italy and Spain he has been the Count de Ruggiero; while in Austria and Germany he called himself Field Marshal to the Duke of Bavaria.”

Newton waited for the effect of this revelation to make its effect, before adding: “The truth, however, is that he is plain Domenico Manuel, the son of a Neapolitan goldsmith and the pupil of Lascaris, who was another great charlatan and mountebank.”