Back to the Story...
I followed my father into the room made narrow by clutter. All the shelves were laden with books, and it appeared that once space on the shelves had run out, whoever's job it was to stack and catalog the books had simply begun stacking them on the floor. Now they formed a series of tall crenellations at the edges of the room. In the center of all of this was Newton himself. A lesser man would have appeared dwarfed by the collection of knowledge about him, but something in Newton's presence made him seem more substantial, as though time would not erode his being the way that it would with most men. Something about him seemed very permanent indeed, and my childish brain attached to the thought that he had perhaps already uncovered the Philosophic Mercury and would consequently live forever.
He nodded in our direction, but otherwise gave no sign of having seen us until he finished scrawling on a piece of parchment. Even then, he barely glanced up as he said, "Thank you Mr. Kuerten, you may leave us."
My father betrayed no emotion but by the slightest flexing of his jaw. Perhaps I alone was close enough to him to understand the gesture. Still, he obediently turned and left without the slightest bow or even a word of politeness. As soon as he was gone I wished that he had stayed, particularly when Mr. Newton fixed upon me his philosopher's eyes.
"I hear that you are a clever child," said he. Though the words could only be construed as kindness, they came out venomous and barbed; as though his tongue were unused to tasting kindness.
"I have some small skill with numbers, sir." My own voice sounded tight and warped in the closeness of the study.
"Some small skill," he repeated. "I have heard that you have read, and understood, the work Herr Leibniz has released on the matter of the Calculus. That hardly amounts to 'some small skill' for a boy of your age."
"I do not understand it all, sir, only the barest few details."
"Still, it is impressive, and that you now cling to modesty puzzles me. You ought to be proud of your accomplishments."
"My father says that pride is a sin."
Upon those words, Newton's mouth twitched a bit, as though he made to smile and then thought better of it. "Your father is a very wise man, but quite dour. It is all well and good to take pride in one's accomplishments from time to time. Have you given any thought to your schooling?"
"No sir. I will study here until I am disallowed to do so, and then perhaps enter the priesthood."
His eyebrows shot up. "Would that really suit you?" He sounded almost incredulous.
I was becoming more and more nervous by the second. "It might."
"Wouldn't you be more at home in Massachusetts, then, stoning witches to death with your fellows?" Even as a child, the contempt in his voice was obvious to me.
"They aren't stoning anyone to death," I answered automatically, though whether or not they did wasn't exactly the type of information to which I was privy.
"Hanging, then," said Newton, and gave the air a bit of a stir with his hand. "It is unimportant. I assume that you wish to serve the church because you will be allowed to study further?"
I blushed. I had been completely unaware that I was so transparent. I had been counting on the nobility of the priesthood to disguise my motives, and here was Newton pulling them out of the aether like a kitchen maid selecting herring at a fishwife's stall. "I should like very much to continue my studies," I said in a voice barely audible and full of shame.
He nodded in our direction, but otherwise gave no sign of having seen us until he finished scrawling on a piece of parchment. Even then, he barely glanced up as he said, "Thank you Mr. Kuerten, you may leave us."
My father betrayed no emotion but by the slightest flexing of his jaw. Perhaps I alone was close enough to him to understand the gesture. Still, he obediently turned and left without the slightest bow or even a word of politeness. As soon as he was gone I wished that he had stayed, particularly when Mr. Newton fixed upon me his philosopher's eyes.
"I hear that you are a clever child," said he. Though the words could only be construed as kindness, they came out venomous and barbed; as though his tongue were unused to tasting kindness.
"I have some small skill with numbers, sir." My own voice sounded tight and warped in the closeness of the study.
"Some small skill," he repeated. "I have heard that you have read, and understood, the work Herr Leibniz has released on the matter of the Calculus. That hardly amounts to 'some small skill' for a boy of your age."
"I do not understand it all, sir, only the barest few details."
"Still, it is impressive, and that you now cling to modesty puzzles me. You ought to be proud of your accomplishments."
"My father says that pride is a sin."
Upon those words, Newton's mouth twitched a bit, as though he made to smile and then thought better of it. "Your father is a very wise man, but quite dour. It is all well and good to take pride in one's accomplishments from time to time. Have you given any thought to your schooling?"
"No sir. I will study here until I am disallowed to do so, and then perhaps enter the priesthood."
His eyebrows shot up. "Would that really suit you?" He sounded almost incredulous.
I was becoming more and more nervous by the second. "It might."
"Wouldn't you be more at home in Massachusetts, then, stoning witches to death with your fellows?" Even as a child, the contempt in his voice was obvious to me.
"They aren't stoning anyone to death," I answered automatically, though whether or not they did wasn't exactly the type of information to which I was privy.
"Hanging, then," said Newton, and gave the air a bit of a stir with his hand. "It is unimportant. I assume that you wish to serve the church because you will be allowed to study further?"
I blushed. I had been completely unaware that I was so transparent. I had been counting on the nobility of the priesthood to disguise my motives, and here was Newton pulling them out of the aether like a kitchen maid selecting herring at a fishwife's stall. "I should like very much to continue my studies," I said in a voice barely audible and full of shame.