Dark Matter

What I read was most vexatious, and it was suddenly obvious to me why Newton gave the appearance of one who had received some kind of insult to his brain—even, perhaps, some kind of paralytic stroke. For the letter was from the Lords Justices inviting Newton to appear before them next morning in an informal and unrecorded private session, in order that he should answer affidavits viva voce that he was not a fit and proper person to hold government office, being of an anti-Trinitarian, Socinian, or Unitarian and therefore heretic disposition of mind most offensive to the King and the Church of England.

This was a grave matter indeed, for while I did not think that Their Lordships would have ordered Newton put to death, they might easily have sent him to the pillory, which would have amounted to the same thing, for, as I have explained, Newton was not loved by London’s population, because of his diligent pursuit of coiners; and there were many pilloried who, pelted by the mob with brickbats and stones, did not survive the experience. Indeed, there were not a few prisoners who feared the pillory more than fines and imprisonment.

My first inclination was to fetch a physician straightaway so that some kind of cure might urgently be effected, enabling him to appear before Their Lordships and give a good account of himself. But gradually I saw how summoning a physician would only have served to create abroad some gossip about the state of Newton’s mind. If he had suffered a stroke, then Newton was beyond any physician, to say nothing of Their Lordships. But if, as I hoped, the condition was merely temporary then he would not have thanked me for bringing a physician into his affairs. Newton disliked physicians at the best of times, preferring to treat himself on the very few occasions when he was ever ill. Besides, I knew he had suffered some previous breakdown, and from which he had, by his own account, recovered; and therefore I was encouraged to believe that my course of action was the correct one. So I fetched pillows and blankets from the Warden’s house and, having made him as comfortable as I could, went to see if Newton’s coachman still attended his master.

Finding Mister Woston beyond the Lion Tower, I spoke to him.

“Mister Woston? How was Doctor Newton when you brought him here this morning?”

“He was himself, Mister Ellis, as always.”

“The Doctor has suffered an attack of illness,” I said. “Some kind of fit or stroke, perhaps. I know not how best to describe it except to say that he is no longer quite himself, as you say. And that perhaps it would be best if you were to fetch Miss Barton. But try not to alarm her unduly. It would spare her much worry while she travelled here. Perhaps you might just inform her that her uncle urgently requires her presence in his office at the Tower, and she shall understand everything for herself when she gets here.”

“Shall I fetch a physician, too, Mister Ellis?”

“Not yet, Mister Woston. I should like Miss Barton to see him first.”

Upon her arrival in the Mint office, about an hour afterward, Miss Barton greeted me with a cool civility but then, seeing the attitude of her uncle, demanded to know why I had not brought a physician to him immediately.

“Miss Barton,” I said. “If you will permit me to explain, summoning a physician may create some gossip about the state of Newton’s mind. If he has suffered a stroke, then he is beyond any physician, to say nothing of Their Lordships. But if the condition is merely temporary, then he will not thank us for bringing a physician into his affairs.”

She nodded. “That is true enough. But why do you mention Their Lordships so? Has my uncle some business with them?”

I showed her the letter I had found in Newton’s hand, which seemed to occasion within her breast some kind of hysterical reaction against myself.

“You vile and despicable dog,” she said bitterly. “I see your atheistic hand in this, Mister Ellis. Doubtless you have brought my uncle’s reputation into Their Lordships’ disrepute by your saying about him in public what you have said to me in private.”

“I can assure you, Miss Barton, that nothing could be further from the truth. Despite what you may think of me, I owe a great deal to the Doctor, and would not injure his reputation for all the world. But even if what you say were true, none of this is helping him now.”

“What do you propose, sir?” she said stiffly.

“Your uncle has referred to an occasion upon which he suffered some sort of mental breakdown once before,” said I.

“Indeed it is so. It has always vexed him most considerably that Mister Huygens spread a rumour that my uncle’s mind was lost to science. For he is a proud man and a most private person.”

“Indeed he is, Miss Barton. The most private person I ever knew.” Somewhat pointedly, I added, “There is so much about him that a person is never made privilege to, that I wonder how anyone can say he knows Doctor Newton at all.”

“I know my own uncle, sir.”