I’d opened my lecture with the strongest statement I could. I’d unfolded myself as a thorough Newtonian in a room sharply divided on his philosophy, but willing, even eager, to consider grounded arguments and valid assertions if they were presented clearly. As best I could, I did that.
I was not a man of gravity. I wasn’t imposing, as Master Johann was. I wasn’t formidable, nor solid. I didn’t have years of wisdom written on me. I was only somewhat tall and gangling, with a voice pitched like an old cat, and eyes too large and close about my angular nose.
But what I spoke to those men was full, great truth.
At the end I stood down. I was congratulated and my hand shaken. I’d shown that I was able to hold the Chair. I’d shown to myself that I was able.
Then in the sunlight, I recovered to my own self, but only nearly. I was surely different, and more than just the three corners of a hat could make me. Greatly learned men had listened to me and sat under my instruction.
Daniel and Nicolaus were jovial beside me. I breathed in the plain air and was relieved to be plain again. I was exhilarated but exhausted and I had a great yearning to be on a hillside, wearing brown, and running.
Only a half hour was to pass before the next lecture, hardly time for the listeners to return home, but a long wait in the hall. Daniel soon abandoned me and went back in. I took the time to walk the streets close by. Although I’d been often on each of those roads, I noticed small things I hadn’t before: gates and arches into yards and gardens. These houses, and even more their foundations, were very old, but there were still spaces between them, small pockets with rows of herbs and flowers and vines.
But then it was time to return. I was back just in time. I went up and shook Daniel’s hand and gave him some encouragement, and by the time I was looking for a seat, there were none. So I stood in the back with those too late to get chairs, and those to lowly to keep theirs.
Far in front of me were the others of the family. Nicolaus and Gottlieb were together, and in the second row was Master Johann. Little Johann was close beside him. Daniel at the podium was confident and sure; the only betrayal of his anxiety was his occasional glances at the iron casket placid on the shelf beneath him.
All eyes were on him as he began as I had. “Gentlemen, my subject today is the Mathematics of Hydraulics.” Which was the last word I heard as the door closed quietly behind me.
16
THE LOST HOUR
The streets weren’t less filled than any other late morning. They were only empty of black robes and black gowns. For all the importance of what was happening inside the University, outside of it was still unaffected.
I returned home. My grandmother was at the market square. I knew she wouldn’t be very long, so I was hasty in changing from my scholarly self to my humble. It was only minutes and I was back out in the dry sunlight.
Then I ran; I loved to run. I came to the familiar alley, and then into the more familiar yard.
Now came the first chance: I looked, and Mistress Dorothea was not in her kitchen.
I went in as quiet as still air and passed through as silent as sunlight. It was a large house and the high attics could be in a frenzy with hardly a notice down where I was, but I heard nothing and felt nothing.
As light as sunlit air I climbed the steps and came to the hall where my Master’s office was. I crossed the hall. Another chance was that the door might be locked, but I thought it wouldn’t be. The command of its Master was stronger than any lock. No one, not even Daniel, would have dared to open that door. No one but me. I put my hand on the knob. Then, another chance, a very great chance: I opened the door, onto an empty room. Then I closed it behind me, and I was in my Master’s office.
This was a place of wonders. The short moments I’d seen it before had impressed themselves on me completely. I knew the room as if I’d always been there, as if it were my own. If I sat in the chair, I would know where every paper was and every book. I did sit.
Immediately I felt, ten times as much, the thoughts and weight of being a Master and a Chair. I felt the center of Europe. Letters from every corner were here, from all the great minds: from Paris, from Lyon, from Potsdam and Berlin, from Padua and Bologna, from Master Leibniz himself—and even, even alone from the others, a letter from Newton.
And also alone, away from all the correspondence, just where I’d seen it before, was one letter to Daniel from Paris.
The room was just as my room would be if I were Master Johann. My own room was part study and part bedroom, and my collection of books was small in comparison, and my papers were trivial in number and content. But I knew the room, just how it was settled and ordered. Master Johann and I, we were very close, closer than he and his own children, close in our thoughts and visions.