I am sorry, sir, that I cannot say more at present; I fear my enquiries will arouse suspicions if I ask too much.
My anger and dismay at this piece of youthful folly knew no bounds, although I did not know whether I was more angry at Matthew for his stupidity, or at this Cola for the way he had so filthily wormed his way into his affections. I had never permitted him such entertainments, for they are both sinful and spoil a child’s education faster than any other mistake in their upbringing. Rather, I had attended to his soul, knowing that, hard though it is because of the natural frivolity of youth, work and the inculcation of duty were both more proper and rewarding. That this Cola should use such tricks to turn him away from righteousness—and, I feared, away from me—caused great anger, as I knew how easy it was to do as well as I knew the difficulty of remaining unyielding when all my desire was to see a smile of pleasure on his face. Unlike Cola, though, I would not buy his affection.
Even more, the way such devices were used to befuddle his senses concerned me, as even at a distance, I could see that Matthew’s assurances about Cola were wrong—I knew already he was coming to England, for Oldenburg had told me so. And the coup being planned was set for just after the time when he would arrive on our shores. It was easy to forge the connection between the two, and I realized that the time I had at my disposal was very much less than I anticipated. I felt as though I was a novice playing a game of chess, and that my opponent’s pieces were slowly moving across the board, setting up an assault which, when it came, would be as irresistible as it was sudden. On every occasion I thought that, if only I had more information, I could make sense of the whole business; but every time that extra intelligence came into my hands, it again proved insufficient. I knew there was some plot, and I knew approximately when it was to take place. But although I knew its agent, I did not know its object or its sponsors.
I may say that I found myself very lonely in my thoughts, for I was being forced to consider great matters, without the advice of others to temper my mind and hone my argument. Ultimately, I decided I would have to present my case to someone else, and thought carefully about whom I might choose. I could not, of course, talk frankly to Mr. Bennet as yet, nor could I countenance an approach to another member of Thurloe’s old intelligencing organization, as their loyalties were entirely suspect. Indeed, I felt entirely alone in a suspicious and dangerous world, for there were few who were not, potentially at least, sympathetic to one side or the other.
Accordingly, I made an approach to Robert Boyle, too abstracted of mind to be concerned with politics, too noble of purpose to be seduced by faction, and a man of the most notorious discretion in all matters. I had, and have still, a high opinion of his ingenuity and piety, although I must say I do not believe his achievement as great as his fame. Yet he was the best possible advocate of the new learning for, faced with his ascetic nature, his cautious endeavor and his profound devotion, it was difficult for any man to accuse our Society of harboring subversive or impious notions. Mr. Boyle (who disguised, I think a certain naïveté under the cloak of gravity) believed that the new science would aid religion, and that the fundamental truths of the Bible would be confirmed by rational means. I felt, in contrast, that this would hand a weapon of unparalleled power to the atheists, since they would soon insist that God submit to the proofs of the scientist, and if He could not be pinned to a theorem, they would say they had proved He did not exist.
Boyle was wrong, but I admit it was with the best of reasons, and this dispute between us never produced a breach in our friendship which, if never warm, was of great duration.
He was of the best family, and had a balanced (though weak) constitution and sound education; all these produced an excellent judgment which was never swayed by considerations of gain. When I discovered him at his sister’s house in London, I asked him to visit and gave him a fine meal of oysters, lamb, partridge and pudding and then persuaded him to treat the conversation in the utmost confidence.
He listened silently as I laid out—in greater detail than I originally planned—the whole pattern of hint and suspicion which concerned me so greatly.
“I am greatly flattered,” he said when I had done, “that you choose me for such confidence; but I am not certain what you want of me.”
“I want your opinion,” I said. “I have certain evidence, and I have a partial hypothesis which is in no way contradicted by any of it. Yet it is not confirmed either. Can you think of an alternative which fits as well, if not better?”
“Let me be clear. You know this Italian gentleman is connected both to radicals and to the Spanish; you know that he is coming to our shores next month; those are your essential, though not your only, facts. You believe that he is coming here to cause us harm; that is your hypothesis. You do not know what that harm might be.”
I nodded.
“So let us see if indeed there is an alternative which might supplant your main hypothesis. Let us start by proposing that Cola is what he says—a young gentleman touring the world, with no interest in politics. He falls in with English radicals because he meets them by chance. He knows high Spaniards because he is a gentleman of quality from a wealthy Venetian family. He plans to come to England because he wishes to gain some knowledge of us. He is, in fact, entirely harmless.”
“You leave out the secondary facts,” I said, “which bolster one proposal but weaken the other. Cola is the senior son of a trader in considerable difficulties, his first obligation should be his family, yet he is in the Low Countries spending money in idle amusements. You need a good reason for such behavior, which my thesis can absorb, while yours cannot. He had little or no reputation for curiosity until the moment he arrived in Leiden, but was known for his courage and bravado with arms. In your thesis we must account for a remarkable change in character; in mine we do not. And you do not take account of the central matter, which is that he was the recipient of a letter disguised in a code previously used by a traitor against the king. Innocent tourists of curiosity, I think, rarely receive such missives.”
Boyle nodded, and accepted the counter-argument. “Very well,” he said, “I concede your hypothesis is the stronger, and must take priority. So I will attack your conclusion; we grant that Cola is in potential an imminent danger; does that lead inevitably to the conclusion that this danger will be realized? If I understand it rightly, you have no idea or notion of what this man might do when he comes here. What could one solitary individual accomplish that would pose such a danger?”
“He can say something, do something or be a means of transmission,” I replied. “These are the only types of action which are possible. Any danger he poses must be contained in one of these three categories. By transmission, I mean he could bring a message, or money, or take either of these away; I cannot think this is the case, both the radicals and the Spaniards have more than enough means of transporting anything they choose without making use of a man such as he. Similarly, I cannot see what he might say that could pose any form of threat, and which would require his presence in this country. So that leaves deeds. I ask you, sir, what deed can a single, solitary man accomplish that would pose a danger to this kingdom if, as seems reasonable, his profession is of significance in determining his movements?”