During the conversation, lower also mentioned that Cola had accompanied him to visit Jack Prestcott in his jail cell, that the Italian had willingly provided the boy with wine and, it appeared, returned to deliver it in person, spending a good long while in his cell conversing with him. This was another curiosity which had to be examined with care. Cola was a Venetian and Sir James had served that country, and perhaps he was merely showing consideration for the son of a man who had served his country well. The other link was the copy of Livy, for Sir James had encoded a letter using it in 1660, and Cola had received one disguised with the same book three years later. I could not fathom it at all, so realized I would have to interview young Prestcott again—and this time thought I would get the truth from him, as his current situation left him little scope for being difficult with me.
I may say that I was beginning to have some doubts about my understanding of Cola’s aims, for his actions did not correspond with what I assumed he intended to accomplish. I was not (I repeat again) at all dogmatic in my belief; the conclusions I reached derived from fair principles and a reasoned, unprejudiced comprehension. To put it simply, it was borne in on me that if he desired to strike against the king, who now divided his time between Whitehall, Tunbridge and the racecourses at Newbury, then Oxford was a strange place to be living. And yet, here Cola was and showing no signs whatsoever of moving away. It was for this reason that, when Dr. Grove informed me the Italian was to dine in college that day, I overcame my repugnance and concluded that I must be present, so I could see and hear the man for myself.
Perhaps here I should sketch a character of Dr. Grove, for his end was tragic and he was, along with Warden Woodward, the only Fellow of New College for whom I had any regard. That we had nothing in common apart from Holy Orders is certainly true; the merits of the new philosophy had entirely escaped him, and he was also even more severe than I in his belief in the necessity for total conformity in the church. For all that, he was nonetheless a man of kindly disposition, whose ferocity of policy lay oddly with his generosity of spirit; he had no cause to love me, for I represented everything he detested, yet he sought out my acquaintanceship—his principles were of a general nature, and in no way affected his judgment of individuals.
Apart from being a divine, he thought of himself as a private astronomer, although nothing had ever been published and, I am sorry to say, nothing ever was. Even had he lived, I suspect that the fruit of his labors would never have seen the light of the day, for Grove was so modest of his skills, and so unconcerned with public acclaim, that he believed publishing both arrogant and presumptuous. Rather, he was one of that ever-rarer breed of man who honor God and University in modest silence, believing learning to be its own reward.
He had returned to his university when the king had returned to his throne, and he now wished to leave and take up a living of his own in the country when the next one came available. The chances of him doing so were good, for against him was ranged merely the paltry and youthful figure of Thomas Ken, whose claim appealed to some simply because they wished to rid themselves of a dreary presence in the college. In some ways his imminent departure saddened me, for Grove’s company I found strangely conducive. I would not say we were friends; that would be going too far, and certainly he had a manner of address that was easily found objectionable by those who did not perceive the goodness within. Grove’s weakness was a quick tongue and a barbed wit, which he had never mastered. He was a man of contradiction, and his conversation could never be taken for granted; he could be the kindest of men, or the most waspish. He had, indeed, perfected the technique of being both at the same time.
It was Grove who invited me to lodge at New College when building works made my home uninhabitable. Death and a delayed election to a Fellowship had created a vacancy in a room and the college, as was its practice, had decided to rent the space out until a new Fellow staked a claim. I had never before enjoyed the common life, even as an undergraduate myself, and was more than content to put it behind me when I gained my first preferment. As a professor, of course, I was entitled to marry and keep my own home, and so it was near twenty years since I had lived cheek-by-jowl with others. I found the experience strangely entertaining, and the solitude of my own room suitable for work. I even regretted my youth and wished again for that irresponsibility when all is still to be done, and nothing is certain. But the feeling soon passed, and by this time, the appeal of New College was waning fast. Apart from Grove, all the Fellows were of low quality, many were corrupt and most inattentive to their duties. I withdrew more and more, and spent as little time as possible in their midst.
Grove was my companion on many evenings, for he took to knocking on my door in his desire of discussion. I did my best to discourage him at first, but he was not easily put off, and eventually I found that I almost welcomed the disturbance, for it was impossible to brood overmuch when he was there. And the disputes we had were of high quality, even though we were often sadly mismatched. Grove had trained himself in scholastic disputation, which I had done my best to shake off as constricting the imagination. And, as I endeavored to point out to him, the new philosophy simply cannot be expressed in terms of the definitions and axioms and theorems and antitheses and all the other apparatus of fonnal Aristotelianism. For Grove this was fraud and deceit, as he held, as a matter of doctrine, that the beauties and subtleties of logic contained all possibilities, and that if a case could not be argued through its forms, then that proved the flaw of the case.
“I am sure you will find Mr. Cola an interesting disputant,” I said when he told me that the Italian would sup that same evening. “I gather from Mr. Lower that he is a great enthusiast for experiment. Whether he will understand your sense of humor I cannot predict. I think I will dine in myself, to see what results.”
Grove beamed with pleasure, and I remember him wiping his red, inflamed eye with a cloth. “Splendid,” he said. “We can make up a threesome, and maybe drink a bottle together afterward and have a real discussion. I will order one. I hope to have great sport with him, as Lord Maynard is dining, and I wish to show my skills in dispute. Lord Maynard will then know what sort of person will be taking his living.”
“I hope this Cola does not take offense at being used in such a fashion.”
“I’m sure he will not even notice. Besides, he has a charming manner and is perfectly respectful. Quite unlike the reputation of Italians, I must say, since I have always heard it said they are fawning and obsequious.”
“I understand he is Venetian,” I said. “They are said to be as cold as their canals, and as secretive as the doge’s dungeons.”
“I did not find him so. Muddle-headed and with all the errors of youth, no doubt, but far from cold or secretive. You may find out for yourself, though.” Here he paused and frowned. “But I forget. I have no sooner offered you a bottle than I find I must withdraw my invitation.”
“Why is that?”
“Mr. Prestcott. You know of him?”
“I heard the tales.”
“He sent a message wishing to see me. Did you know I was his tutor once? Tiresome boy he was, not intelligent and no head for learning. And very strange indeed, all charm one moment, sulks and tantrums the next. A nasty, violent streak in him as well, and greatly given to superstition. Anyway, he wishes to see me, as it appears the prospect of hanging is making him reconsider his life and his sins. I do not want to go, but I suppose I must.”