Peter Ackroyd - Hawksmoor

Is this new drawing Paper? he asked as he snatch'd them from me, It has a coarser Surface.

It is my customary Paper, I answer'A but he paid no Heed.

He scrutinised the Draughts but quickly: the little Turret marked A is a noble piece of Work, says he, and I presume the Cornices are of Stucco?

Yes, that is my Purpose.

Good, good. And the Steps? I see no Steps.

They are not marked, but there are Eight: they have a fourteen inch tread and a five inch rise.

That is good, that is resolved upon. Your Draughts are well made, Nick, and this work will stand tryal in a Hurricano, I have no Doubt.

And then he goes on after a Pause: certainly we would have had an old and rotten Church if it had not been for the Fire. He had Time on his Hands, as they say, and now he settled himself into my Elbow Chair: I have long been of the Opinion, says he, that the Fire was a vast Blessing and the Plague likewise; it gave us Occasion to understand the Secrets of Nature which otherwise might have overwhelm'd us. (I busied my self with the right Order of the Draughts, and said nothing.) With what Firmness of Mind, Sir Chris, went on, did the People see their City devoured, and I can still remember how after the Plague and the Fire the Chearfulnesse soon returned to them: For- getfulnesse is the great Mystery of Time.

I remember, I said as I took a Chair opposite to him, how the Mobb applauded the Flames. I remember how they sang and danced by the Corses during the Contagion: that was not Chearfulnesse but Phrenzy. And I remember, also, the Rage and the Dying These were the Accidents of Fortune, Nick, from which we have learned so much in this Generation.

It was said, sir, that the Plague and the Fire were no Accidents but Substance, that they were the Signes of the Beast withinne. And Sir Chris, laughed at this.

At which point Nat put his Face in: Do you call, sirs? Would you care for a Dish of Tea or some Wine?

Some Tea, some Tea, cried Sir Chris, for the Fire gives me a terrible Thirst. But no, no, he continued when Nat had left the Room, you cannot assign the Causes of Plague or Fire to Sin. It was the negligence of Men that provoked those Disasters and for Negligence there is a Cure; only Terrour is the Hindrance.

Terrour, I said softly, is the lodestone of our Art. But he was too busied about his own Thoughts to hear me.

We can learn, Nick, to control Fire. Since it is the Dissolution of heated Sulphureous Bodies, we need satiated Air and then it will be quite Extinguish'd. But this is for Futurity. As for the Contagion, I made a Diary at that time of Wind, Weather and other Conditions of the Air such as Heat, Cold and Weight: all these together give a true account of Epidemical diseases.

You may tell that, I answered, to those dying of the Distemper: they will be greatly comforted. Then Nat came in with the Tea as I continued: There were those, sir, who were made fearful by the two great Comets which appeared in the end of 1664 and in the beginning of 1665.

I remember them, says he taking the Dish of Tea without a word to my Boy, what of it?

And it was said that they gave off a great hollow Sound which signified Disasters to come.

This is meer Schoolboy prattle, Nick. We can already prophesy the place of Comets among the fixed Starres, we need only Line, Distance, Motion and Inclination to the Ecliptick.

I was pleased to think my Face was in Shaddowe as I continued: But what of those who say 1666 contained the Number of the Beast, and so boded some ominous and direful Matter?

It is one of the greatest Curses visited upon Mankind, he told me, that they shall fear where no Fear is: this astrological and superstitious Humour disarms men's Hearts, it breaks their Courage, it makes them help to bring such Calamities on themselves. Then he stopped short and looked at me, but my Measure was not yet fill'd up so I begg'd him to go on, go on. And he continued: First, they fancy that such ill Accidents must come to pass, and so they render themselves fit Subjects to be wrought upon; it is a Disgrace to the Reason and Honour of Mankind that every fantasticall Humourist can presume to interpret the Skies (here he grew Hot and put down his Dish) and to expound the Time and Seasons and Fates of Empires, assigning the Causes of Plagues and Fires to the Sins of Men or the Judgements of God. This weakens the Constancy of Humane Actions, and affects Men with Fears, Doubts, Irresolutions and Terrours.

I was afraid of your Moving Picture, I said without thought, and that was why I left.

It was only Clock-work, Nick.

But what of the vast Machine of the World, in which Men move by Rote but in which nothing is free from Danger?

Nature yields to the Froward and the Bold.

It does not yield, it devours: You cannot master or manage Nature.

But, Nick, our Age can at least take up the Rubbidge and lay the Foundacions: that is why we must study the principles of Nature, for they are our best Draught.

No, sir, you must study the Humours and Natures of Men: they are corrupt, and therefore your best Guides to understand Corrupcion.

The things of the Earth must be understood by the sentient Faculties, not by the Understanding.

There was a Silence between us now until Sir Chris, says, Is your Boy in the Kitchin? I am mighty Hungry.

He can go to the Boiling cooks, I replied, and choose us some Meat.

That is the Answer, Nick, to all of our Problems.

He shifted in his Seat, and I smelt a Fart as I called Nat to us and gave him his Charge. And Nat bows low to Sir Chris, saying, And what kind of Meat can I get you, sir, may it be beef, mutton, veal, pork or lamb?

Mutton, and I will be obliged.

And will you have it fat or lean?

Fat.

Much done or little done?

Much done.

Very good, sir, and will you have a little Salt and Mustard upon the side with your Roll, to make a proper Feast?

Begone Nat, I murmur'd, before this Gentleman anatomises you.

And with a look of Horrour Nat rushed out of the Room. He is a poor Boy, I said, and you must Excuse him.

He once had the Small-pox did he not, Nick?

That is so.

Sir Chris leaned back, satisfied: I could tell it by his Face. And there is a Residue of a Stammer there, if I heard him aright?

He was once confounded by it, but I cured him.

By what means, sir?

By magick art, sir.

You must discourse on that Topick, says he laughing, at the Society: if you can be perswaded to stay long enough.

After a little while Nat brought in the Meats and was as like to have stood in a corner and watched us earing if I had not waved him away.

To go back a Bit, continued Sir Chris, after he had finished his Portion, Of all nations we were most us'd to order our Affairs by Omens and Praedictions, until we reached this Enlightened Age: for it is now the fittest season for Experiments to arise, to teach us the New Science which springs from Observation and Demonstration and Reason and Method, to shake off the Shaddowes and to scatter the Mists which fill the Minds of Men with a vain Consternation. And then he gave his Eloquence a Stop.

It had started to Rain so fast that I got up from my Chair to close the Shutters, which made my Chamber exceeding dark. But I saw no need for a Candle as I composed my self and gave Sir Chris, this Reply: You say that it is time to shake off the Mist, but Mankind walks in a Mist; that Reason which you cry up as the Glory of this Age is a Proteus and Caméléon that changes its Shape almost in every Man: there is no Folly that may not have a thousand Reasons produc'd to advance it into the Class of Wisdom. Reason itself is a Mist. At this point Sir Chris, held up his Hand, palm forward, but I continued: These Philosophers or Experimenters who are so bold as to trust in their Reason or their Invention or their Discoveries are like Cats that try to hide their Excrement in the Coles, for in the dust of their Elaboratories they conceel the true state of Nature. I may give you an Instance: they cannot conceeve how the Foetus is form'd in the Womb so that the Fancy of the Mother can wound the Embrio, and yet it is so These are but Fables, Nick. Sir Chris, then called for a Light and at once Nat brought in a Candle to place it in the Lanthorn; but in his Haste he dropp'd the Taper and the Room was filled with Smoak. I do not Rely upon such Stories, Sir Chris, went on, but upon my own ri^l Observation, to test if such-and-such be true: I put my Faith in Experience.