Inverted Curvatures Book

This book was apparently highly regarded when it came out and treated as a classic in the nineteenth century. It's difficult to see why. Even laying aside the inflated and prolix style as typical of its day, rather than a specific blemish, this is a tedious and baffling book. Reginald de St. Leon gets the secret of the philosopher's stone from a mysterious old wanderer, who promptly dies after enjoining him to strict secrecy. Why pick St. Leon to give the secret to? Who knows? Why does St. Leon put such deep faith in what from any rational perspective must seem like a raving madman he's never met before? Again, who knows? Godwin seems to have no interest in rationalizing why St. Leon is picked (there seems to be a deliberateness about the old man's choice) or why he is so eager to believe the guy and to honor his oath. Furthermore, the book is about a third over before we even get to this apparently central element of the tale. The first third seems an overly-elaborated demonstration that money doesn't buy happiness which the latter two thirds then drill home again and again, mercilessly. Or they might if St. Leon was not depicted as perhaps the stupidest man in the history of the universe. Strange old man offers you a fabulous secret if you swear never to tell anyone? Sure, why not? Just take his word at face value and then relentlessly keep the secret from your wife (the best woman in the history of the universe, of course) until it drives an unbridgeable gap between you and leads to the decline in health that takes her life--but perform your alchemy in full view of your servant, so he can then blab about your magical abilities to all who will listen. Decide you need a friend to help you in your attempts at philanthropy (which would be hilariously inept if they were not so tediously elaborated)? Why, of course you must pick the biggest misanthrope in the history of the universe, a Byronic figure who makes Byron'sByronic heroes look like philanthropists (unsurprisingly, perhaps, Byron was a great admirer of this book). It doesn't even have consistent internal logic. Late in the novel, St. Leon insists that he can't give this super-misanthrope the secret of the philosopher's stone because anyone with that secret is morally purified by the knowledge (if so, why not give it to the hater of humanity and thereby cure his rabid misanthropy?), and the keen insight into human nature the gift gives him means he can see that the misanthrope is not worthy of it (but where was that keen insight when he befriended the guy in the first place--or every other time he catastrophically misjudges people?) Even how the alchemy works is opaque: St. Leon routinely refers to using its powers to create wealth without ever addressing how he manages to create currency rather than just gold (there is never any discussion of converting gold to currency, just to him producing such and such or so many ducats etc.) The editor suggests that perhaps Godwin is playing with an unreliable narrator, but if so, the point of doing so is opaque to me. Certainly, though, it is hard to take St. Leon as narrator seriously. Baffling and, to my eyes, a pretty much pointless book. what the fantasy element of the philosopher's stone is supposed to add that could not have been dealt with in a fable of a few hundred words is beyond me, after five hundred pages.