Authors: Thomas Pynchon
"Mother says you're the Family outcast," Pitt remarks.
"They pay you money to keep away," says Pliny.
"Your Grandsire Cherrycoke, Lads, has ever kept his promise to remit to me, by way of certain Charter'd Companies, a sum precise to the farthing and punctual as the Moon,— to any address in the World, save one in Britain. Britain is his World, and he will persist, even now, in standing sham'd before it for certain Crimes of my distant Youth."
"Crimes!" exclaim the Boys together.
"Why, so did wicked men declare 'em.. .before God, another Tale— "
"What'd they nail you on?" Uncle Ives wishes to know, "strictly professional interest, of course." Green Brief-bag over one shoulder, but lately return'd from a Coffee-House Meeting, he is bound later this evening for a slightly more formal version of the same thing,— feeling, here with the children, much as might a Coaching Passenger let off at Nightfall among an unknown Populace, to wait for a connecting Coach, alone, pedestrian, desiring to pass the time to some Revenue, if not Profit.
"Along with some lesser Counts," the Revd is replying, " 'twas one of the least tolerable of Offenses in that era, the worst of Dick Turpin seeming but the Carelessness of Youth beside it,— the Crime they styl'd 'Anonymity.' That is, I left messages posted publicly, but did not sign them. I knew some night-running lads in the district who let me use their Printing-Press,— somehow, what I got into pz'inting up, were Accounts of certain Crimes I had observ'd, committed by the Stronger against the Weaker,— enclosures, evictions, Assize verdicts, Activities of the Military,— giving the Names of as many of the Perpetrators as I was sure of, yet keeping back what I foolishly imagin'd my own, till the Night I was tipp'd and brought in to London, in Chains, and clapp'd in the Tower."
"The Tower!”
"Oh, do not tease them so," Tenebrse prays him.
"Ludgate, then? whichever, 'twas Gaol. It took me till I was lying among the Rats and Vermin, upon the freezing edge of a Future invisible, to understand that my name had never been my own,— rather belonging, all this time, to the Authorities, who forbade me to change it, or withhold it, as 'twere a Ring upon the Collar of a Beast, ever waiting
for the Lead to be fasten'd on
One of those moments Hindoos and
Chinamen are ever said to be having, entire loss of Self, perfect union with All, sort of thing. Strange Lights, Fires, Voices indecipherable,— indeed, Children, this is the part of the Tale where your old Uncle gets to go insane,— or so, then, each in his Interest, did it please ev'ryone to style me. Sea voyages in those days being the standard Treatment for Insanity, my Exile should commence for the best of Medical reasons."
Tho' my Inclination had been to go out aboard an East Indiaman (the Revd continues), as that route East travers'd notoriously a lively and youthful World of shipboard Dalliance, Gale-force Assemblies, and Duels ashore, with the French Fleet a constant,— for some, Romantic,— danger, "Like Pirates, yet more polite," as the Ladies often assur'd me,— alas, those who controll'd my Fate, getting wind of my preference at the last moment, swiftly arrang'd to have me transferr'd into a small British Frigate sailing alone, upon a long voyage, in a time of War,— the Seahorse, twenty-four guns, Captain Smith. I hasten'd in to Leadenhall Street to inquire.
"Can this be Objection we hear?" I was greeted. "Are you saying that a sixth-rate is beneath you? Would you prefer to remain ashore, and take up quarters in Bedlam? It has made a man of many in your Situation. Some have come to enjoy fairly meaningful lives there. Or if it's some need for the Exotic, we might arrange for a stay in one of the French Hospitals—"
"Would one of my Condition even know how to object, my Lord? I owe you everything."
"Madness has not impair'd your memory. Good. Keep away from harmful Substances, in particular Coffee, Tobacco and Indian Hemp. If you must use the latter, do not inhale. Keep your memory working, young man! Have a safe Voyage.”
So, with this no doubt well-meant advice finding its way into the mid-watch sounds of waves past my sleeping-place, I set sail upon an Engine of Destruction, in the hope that Eastward yet might dwell something of Peace and Godhead, which British Civilization, in venturing Westward, had left behind,— and thus was consternation the least of my feelings when, instead of supernatural Guidance from Lamas old as time, here came Jean Crapaud a-looming,— thirty-four guns' worth of Disaster, and only one Lesson.
2
To Mr. Mason, Assistant to the Astronomer Royal, At Greenwich Esteem'd Sir,—
As I have the honor of being nam'd your Second, upon the propos'd Expedition to Sumatra, to observe the Transit of Venus, I hope I do not err, in introducing myself thus. Despite what Re-assurances you may have had from Mr. Bird and Mr. Emerson, and I hope others, as to my suitability,— yet, yourself being Adjunct to the Prime Astronomer of the Kingdom, 'twould be strange,— not odd of course, but unexpected, rather,— if you did not entertain a professional Doubt, or even two, as to my Qualifications.
Tho' 'tis true, that in my own Work I have recourse much more often to the Needle, than to the Stars,— yet, what I lack in Celestial experience, I pray I may counterpend with Diligence and a swift Grasp,— as, clearly, I cannot pretend to your level of Art, Sir, gladly would I adopt, as promptly as benefit from, any suggestions you might direct toward improving the level of my own.
In this, as in all else,—
Y'r obd't s'v't.
Jeremiah Dixon.—
A few months later, when it is no longer necessary to pretend as much as they expected they'd have to, Dixon reveals that, whilst composing this, he had delib'rately refrain'd from Drink. "Went thro' twenty Revisions, dreaming all the while of the Pint awaiting me down at The Jolly Pitman. Then the Pint after that, of course, and so forth— Growing more desirable with each stricken Phrase, if tha follow me,—
Mason in turn confesses to having nearly thrown the Letter away, having noted its origin in County Durham, and assumed it to be but more of the free provincial advice that it was one of his Tasks to read thro' in the Astronomer Royal's behalf, and respond to. "Yet, 'twas so sincere,— I instantly felt sham'd,— unworthy,— that this honest Country soul believ'd me wise.—
Ahhrr! bitter Deception...."
To,— Mr. Jeremiah Dixon Bishop Auckland, Co. Durham. Sir,—
I have yours of the 26th Ult. and am much oblig'd for your kind opinion.—
Yet I fear, the Doubts may with justice fall more upon your side, for I have never taught anyone, upon any Subject, nor may I prove much skill'd at it. Howbeit,— pray you hesitate not, in asking what you like, as I shall ever try to answer honestly,— if probably not in toto.
Each of us is to have his own twin Telescope, by Mr. Dollond, fitted with the latest of his marvellous Achromatics,— our Clock by Mr. Shelton,— and of course the Sector by your Mr. Bird,— none but the best for this Party, I should say!
Wishing you a journey south as safe as His Ways how strange, may allow, I wait your arrival in a Spirit happily rescu'd by your universally good Name, from all Imps of the Apprehensive,— an Exception most welcome, in the generally uneasy Life of
y'r obdt. Svt.,
Charles Mason
was not there when they met,— or, not in the usual Way. I later heard from them how they remember'd meeting. I tried to record, in what I then projected as a sort of Spiritual Day-Book, what I could remember of what they said,— tho' 'twas too often abridg'd by the Day's Fatigue.
("Writing in your sleep, too!" cry the Twins.)
0 children, I even dream'd in those Days,— but only long after the waking Traverse was done.
Howsobeit,— scarcely have they met, in the Saloon of Mason's Inn at Portsmouth, than Mason finds himself coming the Old London Hand, before Dixon's clear Stupefaction with the Town.
"Eeh! Fellow was spitting at my Shoes...? Another pushing folk one by one into the Gutters, some of them quite dangerous to look ah'...? How can Yese dwell than' closely together, Day upon Day, without all growing Murderous?"
"Oh, one may, if one wishes, find insult at ev'ry step,— from insolent Stares to mortal Assault, an Orgy of Insult uninterrupted,— yet how does one proceed to call out each offender in turn, or choose among 'em, and in obedience to what code? So, one soon understands it, as yet another Term in the Contract between the City and oneself,— a function of simple Density, ensuring that there never be time enough to acknowledge, let alone to resent, such a mad Variety of offer'd Offense.”
3
"Just so,— why, back in Bishop, it might take half the night to find an excuse to clash someone i' the Face, whilst in London, Eeh! 'tis the Paradise of the Quarrelsome, for fair."
"You'd appreciate Wapping High Street, then,— and, and Tyburn, of course! put that on your list."
"Alluring out there, is it?"
Mason explains, though without his precise reason for it, that, for the past Year or more, it has been his practice to attend the Friday Hangings at that melancholy place, where he is soon chatting up Hangmen and their 'Prentices, whilst standing them pints at their Local, The Bridport Dagger, acquiring thus a certain grisly intimacy with the Art. Mason has been shov'd about and borne along in riots of sailors attempting to wrest from bands of Medical Students the bodies of Shipmates come to grief ashore, too far from the safety of the Sea,— and he's had his Purse, as his Person, assaulted by Agents public and private,— yet, "There's nothing like it, it's London at its purest," he cries. "You must come out there with me, soon as we may."
Taking it for the joke it must surely be, Dixon laughs, "Ha, ha, ha! Oh, thah's a bonny one, all right. Eeh."
Mason shrugging, palms up, "I'm serious. Worse than that, I'm sober. A man's first time in town, he simply can't miss a hanging. Come, Sir,— what's the first thing they'll ask when you get back to County Durham? Eh? 'Did ye see them rahde the Eeahr at Taahburn?''
Is it too many nights alone on top of that fam'd Hill in Greenwich? can this man, living in one of the great Cities of Christendom, not know how to behave around people?— Dixon decides to register only annoyance. "Nooah, the first thing they'll ask is, 'Did thoo understand 'em the weeay theey talk, down theere... ?''
"Oh, damme, I say, I didn't mean,—
So Dixon for the second time in two minutes finds himself laughing without the Motrix of honest Mirth,— this time, a Mr. Mason-how-you-do-go-on laugh, sidewise and forbearing, the laugh of a hired Foil. Feeling it his Duty to set them at Ease, Dixon begins, "Well. There's this Jesuit, this Corsican, and this Chinaman, and they're all riding in a greeat Cooach, going up to Bath...? and the fourth Passenger is a very proper Englishwoman, who keeps giving them these scandaliz'd Glances...? Finally, able to bear it no longer, the Corsican, being the most hot-headed of the three, bursts out, and here I hope You will excuse my Corsican Accent, he says, ' 'Ey! Lady! Whatta Ye lookin' ah'?' And she says,—
Mason has been edging away. "Are you crazy?" he whispers, "- - People are staring. Sailors are staring."
"Eeh!" Dixon's nose throbbing redly. "You have heard it, then. Apologies," reaching to clasp Mason's arm, a gesture Mason retreats from in a Flinch as free of deliberation as a Sneeze. Dixon withdrawing, broken into a Sweat, "Why aye, it took me weeks of study to fathom that one, but I see You've a brisk Brain in Your gourd there, and I'm pleas'd to be working with such as it be...?" Resolutely a-beam, pronouncing the forms of You consciously, as if borrowing them from another Tongue.
The two sit staring, one at the other, each with a greatly mistaken impression,— likewise in some Uncertainty as to how the power may come to be sorted out betwixt 'em. Dixon is a couple of inches taller, sloping more than towering, wearing a red coat of military cut, with brocade and silver buttons, and a matching red three-corner'd Hat with some gaudy North-Road Cockade stuck in it. He will be first to catch the average Eye, often causing future strangers to remember them as Dixon and Mason. But the Uniform accords with neither his Quaker Profession, nor his present Bearing,— a civilian Slouch grown lop-sided, too often observ'd, alas, in Devotees of the Taproom.
For Dixon's part, he seems disappointed in Mason,— or so the Astronomer, ever inclined to suspicion, fears. "What is it? What are you looking at? It's my Wig, isn't it."
"You're not wearing a Wig...?"
"Just so! you noted that,— you have been observing me in a strange yet, I must conclude, meaningful way."
"Don't know...? Happen I was expecting someone a bit more...odd...?"
Mason a-squint, "I'm not odd enough for you?"
"Well it is a peculiar station in Life, isn't it? How many Royal Astronomers are there? How many Royal Astronomers' Assistants are there likely to be? Takes an odd bird to stay up peering at Stars all night
in the first place, doesn't it... ? On the other hand, Surveyors are runnin' about numerous as Bed-bugs, and twice as cheap, with work enough for all certainly in Durham at present, Enclosures all over the County, and North Yorkshire,— eeh.' Fences, Hedges, Ditches ordinary and Ha-Ha Style, all to be laid out.. .1 could have stay'd home and had m'self a fine Living...?"
"They did mention a Background in Land-Surveying," Mason in some Surprize, "but, but that's it? Hedges? Ha-Has?"
"Well, actually the Durham Ha-Ha boom subsided a bit after Lord Lambton fell into his, curs'd it, had it fill'd in with coal-spoil. Why, did You think I was another Lens-fellow? 0 Lord no,— I mean I've been taught the lot, Celestial Mechanics, all the weighty lads, Laplace and Kepler, Aristarchus, the other fellow what's his name,— but that's all Trigonometry, isn't it... ?"
"Yet you,— " how shall he put this tactfully? "you have look'd... ehm... through a...ehm..."
Dixon smiles at him encouragingly. "Why aye,— my old Teacher, Mr. Emerson, has a fine Telescope Ah believe the word is, encas'd in Barrel-Staves tho' it be, and many's the Evening I've admir'd the Phases of Venus, aye those and the Moons of Jupiter too, the Mountains and Craters of our own Moon,— and did You see thah' latest Eclipse...? canny,— eeh...Mr. Bird, as well, has shar'd his Instruments,— being kind enough, in fact, just in this last fortnight, to help me practice my observing and computing skills,— tho' so mercilessly that I was in some doubt for days, whether we'd parted friends...?"