It was John Brand II. who made hydrogen cease to vibrate, so that it lapsed into ether, then struck that mighty chord which brought the ether to life again as gold. He had mastered the Divine alchemy, he followed upon the footsteps of the Creator, he played the music of the spheres. For ages the alchemist, not fathoming the ways of God, had failed, but this humble and reverent man grasped the great secret. He learned how to make not only gold but all the elements of matter; he struck the chords of Force. VII THE TAMING OF LYONESSE To the foreman of the works, the physicist William Robertson, had been entrusted the secret formula for making gold. As a shareholder in Lyonesse this man grew fabulously rich, and more, the brilliant Sir William Robertson was ambitious of power and splendour. Ill could he bear with the new master of Lyonesse, plain Mister Brand of the shabby clothes, the thread-bare furnishings, the cautious policy. The two men were never friends, time made them enemies. Robertson earned a barony by joining Lord Ulster's party, and expected an earldom for publicly affronting his master. Then came the day of trouble, when Brand joined issue with the Chancellor, and war was imminent between Lyonesse and the Government. The ingenious physicist was frightened, foresaw disaster whichever side he joined, and promptly betrayed them both. He was in America now, starting new factories to undersell the gold from Lyonesse. So ended the great monopoly, so was the standard wrenched from the master's hand, so came the fall of gold. Brand only knew of one way upwards. For him ascent of mountain heights meant sweating labour, endurance, patience, faith. He could not understand the winged vanity of this servant who betrayed him in his own household, or of Lord Ulster, who had betrayed the Empire. These men had bartered their souls for wealth, rank, office, as though the admiration of their fellows could ever lift them up above the earth. They bartered their souls for wings, and that which rose upon the wings was only a swollen corruption. Brand had no pity for the tortuous errors of weak men, only a dull anger without understanding, a smouldering rage which the slightest breath would kindle into the flames of war. Then the Queen sent for him. A woman was to turn aside the fury of Lyonesse, to subdue and tame this man who reined the coursers of the sun, and drove the awful powers of creation. The Queen sent for him. Brand mentioned to his secretary that he had a business appointment, and so, leaving his London office for an hour, he walked to the palace, glad of a little exercise and fresh air. He came to the gates, presented his card, and was told that popes and archangels would be denied admittance if they came to a state ball in a tweed suit. Lord Sydney got him passed through the gates, but drew him aside under the shadows of the porch. "Have you no other clothes?" "Not in London, Sydney. Is it vital?"