plenty who speculated that the real accident had been received in the cunny parts of a whore. This feature, however, lent Mister Kennedy a villainous aspect that enabled him to mix with some of the worst rogues in London. He, having received a shilling from one of the two gentlemen for having brought them to Newton, now withdrew, leaving them to introduce themselves. It was the taller, older and less modish of the pair who did the talking:
“Sir,” he said, bowing gracefully, “this is indeed an honour. Permit me to introduce myself. My name is Christopher Love. Perhaps you have read my work on the chemical teachings that are being done in the University of Leyden?”
“I regret I have not had that pleasure,” Newton said gruffly, for he hated being sought out by new disciples while he was about the business of the Mint.
“No matter,” said Doctor Love. “This is the Count Gaetano, from Italy, who is a most adept and notable philosopher in his own country, and has done great work in the secret art.”
The Count, attired in powdered silk and wearing the largest feather I had ever seen on a man’s hat, contrasted sharply with the scholarly black of his companion, whom I judged to be in the fiftieth year of his age. He bowed with more panache than an Irish actor and then spoke most haltingly to my master, in an accent that was as thick as the braid upon his sleeves.
“Sir, I should be greatly honoured if you would be my guest for dinner. At your convenience, sir. Very much.”
“I am not insensible of the honour you do me, Count,” answered Newton. “However, I accept very few invitations.”
“The Count appreciates you are a busy man,” said Doctor Love.
“Very much.”
“Nevertheless he feels he has something which would be of very great scientific interest to you.”
“Very much.”
And so saying, Doctor Love removed from a square of velvet a gold ounce, which he presented to Newton.
“Before my very own eyes,” explained Doctor Love, “the Count used a tincture of his own discovery to convert what had been a miserable piece of lead into this golden ingot.”
Newton examined the gold with a show of deep feeling.
“I took it at once to a goldsmith,” continued Doctor Love, “who declared it to be the purest gold he had ever seen.”
“Indeed,” said Newton, weighing the gold piece in the palm of his hand and all the while looking greatly affected.
“Who could be better than yourself, Doctor Newton, Warden of the Royal Mint and England’s greatest scientist, to put this gold to the test? And if you were convinced that it was real, we considered that you might care to witness the Count’s process of transmutation for yourself.”
“Very much,” said Newton; and the assignation of a definite time for this demonstration having been made, the two alchemists were persuaded to take their leave of us, and we were at last allowed to go inside the house, whereupon Newton handed me the gold piece.
“It certainly looks and feels like real gold,” said I. “I think should like to see a real transmutation. If such a thing is possible.”
“We have other business before us now.” And, finding his microscope, Newton placed the instrument on the table by the window, and a mirror and a candle next to it to better illuminate the specimen.
“See if you cannot find Mister Leeuwenhoek’s book,” he told me, placing the scraping from the Scavenger on a slide. “Or Hooke’s
But I could not find either book.
“No matter,” said Newton, and, producing a pin from his lapel, pricked his own thumb so that a small ruby of blood did ooze out. This he pressed onto another slide, compared the two, and then invited me to look myself.
Gradually I was able to distinguish a dim but magnified image that Newton assured me was his own blood. It was one of the most remarkable things I had ever seen. The blood from Newton’s thumb seemed to be almost alive.
“Why, sir, it is composed of thousands of small objects,” I said. “But only some of them are red. And these do flow in a liquid that is almost transparent. It is like looking closely into a pond on a bright summer’s day.”
Newton nodded. “These minute portions are called cells. And it is believed that these are the ultimate elements in all living matter.”
“I did not think it possible that a man might be reduced to something so small. Looking at it so close, human life seems somehow less miraculous. As if we ourselves might not add up to much more than what floats in the village pool.”
Newton laughed. “I think we are a little more complicated than that,” he said. “But pray tell me what is your opinion of the sample we took from the Scavenger?”
“It is without doubt the same, sir. And yet it does not move. It is as if the life that animates the pond has departed.”
“Quite so.”
“It is blood, then,” said I. “What shall we do?”
“Do? Why, nothing at all. I will at my leisure think of this some more and see what might go to explain it. Until then, put this matter from your mind lest these discoveries of ours, weighing on your thoughts, shall spill off your tongue.”
Two or three nights afterwards—Newton having tested the sample of gold himself, and confirmed him in his first opinion, which was that the ounce of gold was genuine—I accompanied him to Doctor Love’s house in Soho, where Count Gaetano received the news about his sample with modest smiles and humble shrugs, almost as if he expected his demonstration was a foregone conclusion and that Newton was already congratulating him on his transmutation. Doctor Love had laid on a splendid dinner, but before we could partake of a mouthful of it, Newton, already bored with the conversation of these two philosophers, looked at his watch and declared that he was anxious to proceed with the transmutation.
“What say you, Count?” asked Doctor Love. “Are you ready?”
“Very much.”
We accompanied Doctor Love and the Count to a workshop at the back of the house where the furnace was already heated so that the shop felt like an oven. At this point Newton opened a bag he had brought with him that now revealed a crucible.
“To avoid all imposition,” he explained, “I have brought along a crucible, some charcoal and some quicksilver with which I am certain no gold has been mixed. I was sure you would agree that it is always important to approach all hermetic matters with as much scientific rigour as possible.”
Count Gaetano smiled broadly. “Very much,” he repeated, and, taking these items from Newton, set about his transmutation.
“While you work, Count,” said Newton, “perhaps you will favour me with some particulars about your preparation of the Mastery?”
“I’m afraid that must remain a secret for now, sir,” said the Count.
“Of course. How long will the work take?”
“No more than several minutes,” replied Doctor Love. “The process is remarkable.”
“Indeed it must be,” observed Newton. “For every sage I have ever read testifies that several months are required to effect a transmutation.”
“Several months to learn the secret of the Magistery,” the Count said firmly. “But once the great secret is known, the work is simplicity itself. Now, sir, if you will stand over there.”
“I confess I am fascinated,” said Newton, moving away from a metal close-stool that stood in the corner.
The Count placed about half an ounce of lead into Newton’s crucible and heated it on the furnace; and presently, the lead having liquefied, he cast his tincture upon it and we saw the lead duly enveloped.
“Gentlemen,” said the Count, “please to stand back a little and cover your eyes, for there will be a great flash of light and perhaps you will be blinded a little.”
