Alchemy

by Maureen Duffy

  ‘Good news my lady.’ Dr Gilbert was clasping and unclasping his plump hands before him. ‘His majesty of his goodness has seen fit to exercise his royal mercy and spare my brother’s life. He is taken to London, to the Tower, but allowed to live.’

  ‘I am glad to hear of so happy an outcome. Perhaps the Sidney fortunes are turning at last, for my brother, Lord Robert, has been made surveyor general of all her majesty’s possessions and we must speedily go with her court to Whitehall. Come with us Dr Gilbert and you shall chance to see your brother bestowed in the Tower like a gentleman rather than a reprieved felon.’

  I was not to accompany the countess to London but to retire again to Ramsbury. The great house was shut up and there were no festivities kept this year nor any coming and going of the local gentry. Content though I was with my lady’s pleasure that Sir Walter had been reprieved yet I foresaw that all this concern would raise Dr Gilbert in her esteem again and that as he rose so I would sink.

  Since his first harsh questioning of me when I was new arrived in my lady’s favour he had been much away and on those occasions when he had been present he had paid me little attention. Yet I felt a malice towards me as a dog may sniff at the air tasting the scent of someone or thing unseen of human eyes. And now he would go with my lady to London and have every opportunity to gain her favour.

  They set out in the middle of December, his majesty with young Sir Philip going on before. After the noise and turmoil of the last weeks the house seemed to echo still with laughter and music, the footsteps and press of several hundreds of people, until a great silence descended upon us and dust began to settle over all. I was glad to be returning to Ramsbury where I had at least some occupation and a daily rule to follow. Yet before I left there came a letter addressed to me in an unknown hand which upon opening gave me news that increased my melancholy.

  When I had last written to Dr Gilbard of my experiments with electrics I had pretended to be writing on my father’s behalf because of an infection of the eyes that kept him from doing so himself. This I did that any reply might reach me and not be turned away as for someone unknown. Breaking open the package I found a letter in the same yet strange hand as the superscription informing me that Dr Gilbard had died at his home in Colchester where he had retired to escape the late pestilence but that before he fell sick he had written the enclosed letter to my father which his assistant had been kind enough to forward.

  Esteemed Doctor, for I think you have deserved the title more than most who lay claim to it. I have received your last account of your experiments with the electricals with much admiration that in the midst of so busy a life you are still able to devote some hours to this study, and add so much to my own, making such accurate observations that all men must admire the precision of your work and the usefulness of the instruments you have devised. I truly believe this is the path which the natural philosopher must pursue towards the truth and I remember that in your own former experiments in search of the philosopher’s stone you did apply those same principles, unlike the mere alchemist who throws ingredients into a limbec without the labour of weighing and measuring and keeping accurate account thereof.

  Tell me dear sir whether you still pursue your quest for the one principle which, understanding, shall make that man as a god, a Prometheus able to fashion men from stones, or whether what you now follow with the electricals has overtaken that work. Perhaps in this discovery we have stumbled upon the true philosopher’s stone and this indwelling force if harnessed, as we have tamed the lodestone to the compass, will prove even more useful to mankind. I am an old man now in failing health and it would give me ease of mind to think that such a philosopher as you would continue with my work and publish our experiments, preserving them in a book for others to follow after as I have done with my De Magnete.

  I trust that by now your eyes are mended enough to read this and continue your studies. I find the juice of eyebright distilled and dropped in the eyes for several days together helps all infirmities of the eyes, even dimness of sight decayed by age.

  I no longer have the hours to pass in my laboratory since the court is so enhanced that all his majesty’s physicians are kept in constant business. Also as president of the College of Physicians I am called upon to resolve many matters, and the disputes that arise between learned men often over simple affairs. Forgive me therefore that I do not write at greater length or more often but believe me, dear sir, even in absence and silence that I count you an esteemed helper and friend.

  Yours in haste,

  W. Gilbard

  When I had read this and understood that the excellent doctor, my father’s friend, was dead I felt a new pang pass through me as at my own father’s death even though the doctor and I had never met. Also I felt a sadness for myself that there was no longer anyone to whom I could communicate those experiments with which I had passed any idle moments I could seize and occupy my thoughts while away from my countess. Nor had I any reason to continue with the work since the conduit for communicating it to others who might value it was stopped up by death.

  Now again indeed I was made sensible of my place alone in the world except for what crumbs might come to me from my lady’s table. I turned my thoughts to God and my father to see if they would comfort me and taking horse rode down into Salisbury to St Edmund’s where my father lay buried. The day was raw and dull. People hurried along wrapped in every rag they could put on and there seemed no touch of Christmas joy to come in any face that I passed.

  Reaching my old home I found it and the house of our neighbour Dame Milburn, who had preserved Dr Gilbard’s first letter and his book sent to my father, both shut up. I dismounted at the lych gate of our old church and going up the path pushed open the door. Inside I could not see at first for the short winter day was nearly done. When my eyes became accustomed to the gloom I made my way forward up the aisle. Ahead I could see a glow of light coming from a side door which must lead to the vestry.

  I reached the spot where my father lay and was surprised to see a black slab had been placed over it with his name upon it and the date of 1601. Below were engraved the words: ‘Doctor of Physick who ministered to the poor of this parish,’ and the likeness of a skull. I remembered that it was just a year since I had come here before. A twelvemonth had passed and yet I still could not pray. The black stone seemed to press down on his bones and put him further beyond my reach. I knelt in the nearest box and rested my head upon my joined hands but my mind remained void of any comforting idea. Then I glimpsed a light between my fingers coming towards me and heard feet and the swish of a gown approaching. I stood up.

  ‘Do not cease your prayers young man. I do not wish to disturb you.’

  ‘I have done sir. I came only to visit my father’s grave but I find there is a stone set upon it and I wonder by whose hands since they were not mine.’

  ‘What is your name young man?’

  ‘Amyntas Boston sir.’

  ‘And this was your father who is now with Christ?’

  ‘Yes sir.’ And at this I felt the tears begin to start that had not flowed all this while. Yet I struggled to keep them back. ‘Tell me sir who has placed this memorial to him.’

  ‘I am newly come here myself and there are many things as yet unknown to me. Perhaps some of the better sort of the parish have wished to preserve his memory because of his charity to the poor as is engraved there. Had he lived a year longer they had need of him for this parish was sorely visited by the pestilence, especially among the poorest. The priest himself perished for that he would not leave his parishioners to suffer without comfort and your father had he been living and exercising his practice of physick, must surely have been struck down too. At least he was spared the sight of so many perishing around him.

  ‘And Dame Milburn who lived near the lych gate? Her house is shut up.’

  ‘Then she is most likely dead. ‘The priest paused for a moment and looked hard at me as he would read my thoughts or my face o
r give his coming words more weight. ‘I have heard some say since I came here that for all his godly charity your father did also look into those mysteries that God in his wisdom has hidden from us. Indeed one doubted whether he should lie in holy ground as a known necromancer.’

  ‘My father was no necromancer sir. He tried only to understand nature by reason and experiment.’

  ‘Not by spells and divination as cunning men, and women too, do often? As casting of horoscopes, finding lost goods, conjuring spirits contrary to holy scripture. “There shall not be found among you an enchanter or a witch. Or a charmer or a consulter with familiar spirits or a wizard or a necromancer.” Deuteronomy.’

  I looked up at him then and saw that his eyes were sparkling in the flame of the candle and indeed one might have taken him for some demon decked out in priest’s clothes, his hair standing up like stubble above his ears around a bald dome.

  ‘My father sir despised all such as mere illusion.’

  ‘He had better have seen them as the temptations of the devil.’

  ‘Perhaps he did sir. We did not speak of it together so I cannot tell you his thoughts upon the matter, only such as I have conveyed to you already and that I received while assisting him in his labours.’

  ‘Such labours as involved the furnace and mercury, I have heard.’

  ‘Indeed sir a furnace is necessary for the preparation of many healing substances, especially those that use metals or minerals, among which may be found red lead which some mistake for mercury, quicksilver itself, gold and iron, many precious stones which must be ground or subdued by fire if their properties are to be brought to drive out or soothe gross humours as lapis, topaz, emerald, amethyst, jasper and many others.’

  ‘I see you would be thought a natural philosopher yourself Master Boston. Perhaps there are things you could teach me if they are not of the devil.’

  ‘I assure you sir anything I might impart to you is to be done only in the name of God and for the relief of suffering mankind. As our Lord himself gave ensample many times in healing the sick. And now I must wish you goodnight sir for I have to ride to Wilton and it grows dark.’

  ‘Where do you lie in Wilton?’

  ‘At the great house. I am in the service of the Countess of Pembroke.’

  ‘And what is your trade?’

  ‘I am one of her physicians sir. Like my father, and like him also I assist her in attending upon the poor and sick.’ With this I made an inclination of my head and moved towards the door, seeing that the countess, her name, had caused him to fall back.

  ‘Goodbye Master Boston. We shall meet again for sure. God go with you.’

  ‘And with you sir.’

  I was eager to be out of his clutches for I saw that he was a kind of rude priest, of little learning, but envious of that of others, who would do me harm if he could and even dig up my father’s bones and not permit him so much as to lie quiet in the churchyard.

  The next day I set out for Ramsbury fearing that he might indeed come in search of me and finding my protector elsewhere might try to do me some mischief. Riding hard all day I reached what I understood to be my best haven at night, having ridden fast but not so as to put my poor horse in danger of her life as some do, not seeing them as creatures made by God for us and our use, as the Bible says, with the power of life and death over them, but not thereby to be abused. For my father had taught me that if we are indeed lower than the angels but higher than the beasts yet we all stand upon the one ladder of creation.

  In the dear house where I had been most happy and secure I found only the duenna and a few servants, as a groom to tend the horses and keep a fire in the hall, a boy in the yard, a maid to clean and her mother to cook. After all the bustle of the court I wondered how I should pass the hours. Praise be however that all were in health and had no immediate need of my ministrations.

  ‘You will soon find folk come flocking when they know you are returned Master Boston,’ the duenna said. ‘I hear Dr Adrian has gone to London with my lady to see his brother Sir Walter in the Tower.’

  I wondered how she had heard so far away in Ramsbury but they say bad news travels fast.

  ‘So my lady has kept him from a traitor’s death. She was ever fond of him and it is hard to tell if she acts out of remembrance of an old flame or in defence of the Protestant cause so dear to her father and brother, as she may need to do now we have a queen of the old religion. Shall we make peace with the Spaniard Master Boston? How is the word at court?’

  ‘I believe his majesty is for peace. And perhaps the Spaniard too is weary of war. If they will let us alone then all may be quiet.’

  ‘They say Queen Anne is already fallen from her first esteem and that the court is likely to be a place of idleness and foolishness where masques are more often seen than sermons heard, to the emptying of the royal purse.’

  I did not answer. Her mind and tongue were as sharp as ever and still toyed with thoughts that if they were not quite treason came very close.

  She went on, ‘Now all my lady’s family is of the king’s or the queen’s court they will be much abroad. You should look to yourself among these new diversions.’

  ‘And you?’ I could not help asking.

  ‘I am old and if I am turned away tomorrow I have a little put by and an almshouse I can return to in my own country near Thaxted in Essex but I do not think my lady will put me out, for there is no one to provoke her to it since I am not worth their malice. But your case is otherwise since you are young and have been my lady’s favourite which some would see as excuse enough to pull you down. And where would you go if such a thing were to come to pass?’

  I answered her as if I had given the matter thought already although my mind had always shied away from the question as too awful to contemplate: a life without my mistress and never perhaps to see her again. ‘I should go to London and set up as a physician for there are many there who if they could not pay me in coin might pay me for my medicines in kind so that at least I should not starve.’

  ‘You are brave Master Boston or very foolish. Sometimes I wish I had had more courage to seek my fortune either singly or in marriage rather than spend my days safely under the Sidney pheon away from the cares of the world. But then when I was young, girls were their parents’ property until they were their husband’s and I had not that chance you had of a philosopher and physician for a father who would let me learn from him. Neither were we set to any schooling. My tutor was my mother who could teach me only those distaff arts she knew herself.’

  I realised from this that she did indeed know my secret but that she must be prevented from revealing as much to me openly or it would become a kind of conspiracy between us that would put me in her power, and although I did not think she had any evil intent towards me, yet the chance to use that power and show off her knowledge might become too strong, especially with the countess who might then be forced to reject me.

  ‘Had my father lived I would have wished to proceed to the university and become doctor but without friends and money such is impossible.’

  ‘As you wish Master Boston. I am sure none could have surpassed you in learning whatever else might be in their favour.’ To my relief she seemed amused by this game and gave a short laugh that was half a cough and half a bark. And so I left her.

  Now the thought that had leapt to my tongue that if matters fell out ill I would go to London and seek my fortune there like Dick Whittington, began to take real shape in my mind and I partly wished I had dared my disguise and presented myself to Dr Gilbard as an assistant and pupil. How I envied the one who had written to me, or rather to my father, his assistant that had had the chance to study with so great a man. I took up the copy of De Magnete itself and wrote upon the flyleaf where the doctor had already inscribed it with the words ex dono auctoris: ad Thomasi Bostoni, medici Sarumensis.

  My sense of loss was sharpened when I looked again at the letter which had accompanied the doctor’s and saw that in
my first grief I had neglected to turn the page. Doing so now I read:

  My master has left an unpublished work of natural philosophy even greater in length than his De Magnete which treats of our sublunary world, and which he entrusted to me when he knew he was dying to bring before the public. It sets out his new theory based upon the old that the moon too is a magnet that draws up the tides and keeps her face ever turned to the earth. Therefore sir if you see any occasion of this please inform me. I would not wish, as I am assured you would not, that any work from so esteemed a hand and brain should perish with him. It has as title De Mundo Nostro Sublunai Philosophia Nova.

  It was his custom during his life in London to hold meetings every month of like-minded men grounded in all branches of natural philosophy and mathematic, as astronomy, medicine, optics and other intellectual pursuits, at his house in Knightrider Street beside the College of Physicians for the exchange of information on their experiments and ideas. I shall endeavour to maintain this custom if I can and invite you to be part of our discussions if you should be in these parts on the first Friday of the month, such was the doctor’s esteem of your work especially on the electrics and anelectrics.

  Now I resolved that if I should be cast off on the world I would seek out this assistant to the doctor and offer my services to him or else I should try some other, as Master Simon Forman from my native Salisbury who has made his fortune treating those with the plague in London while all other physicians fled. And so I might maintain myself and my disguise. Yet for all my brave thoughts my heart broke again at losing my mistress and our once happy life together.

  ‘Do you know what they call you Master Boston?’ the duenna said, one day when she had brought me a cup of wine to the laboratory. ‘They call you the young wizard, for they believe you cure so many that it must be by magic since nature herself could never do as much.’