Iain Pears - An Instance of the Fingerpost

Anybody reading this account may wonder why I was prepared to give such attention to the question of Marco da Cola, since I have as yet described little to justify my effort. In fact, he was still only of passing interest to me, one of those lines of enquiry which are pursued for the sake of thoroughness—there was nothing solid on which I could concentrate, and little more than curiosity to keep my attention focused. I had, it was true, established a possible link between the exiles and the Spanish, and he and his family formed that link. I had an incomprehensible letter and an intriguing connection with another document written three years previously. Finally, I had the enigma of Cola himself, for it struck me as unusual that he could spend many months in the Low Countries without his profession of soldier being commonly known. Nor could I understand why his father, a man of known ability, was prepared to release his only effective son from his family obligations. Yet, not only was the younger Cola apparently entirely unengaged in trade, he was not even married.

Such were my thoughts, and I mentioned the puzzle to Mr. Williams, my merchant friend, when I met him the day after I arrived in London in early 1663.

“Let me pose you a problem as an adventurer,” I said. “Let us say that you lose your main markets and trading partners through ports being closed by war. You have three daughters, one of whom is married, and two are rapidly approaching marriageable age. You have only one useful son. What tactics, do you adopt to defend and expand your business?”

“Once I have stopped panicking, and praying for a turn of good fortune?’’ he said with a smile. “I can think of worse situations to be in, but not many.”

“Let us say you are a naturally calm man. What do you do?”

“Let us see. Much depends on the reserves I have at my disposal, and the relations I have with my family, of course. Will they step forward and help? That might fend off an urgent crisis and give me time to recover. But it gains me room to maneuver, it does not solve the problem. Obviously, the need is to find new markets, but to break into a new port requires money, as it is often necessary to sell at a loss for some time to establish oneself. Now, the easiest solution is to establish an alliance with another house. You marry a son if you have one and if your position is strong, a daughter if it be weak. The situation you describe indicates the need to marry a son to advantage, for that brings money into the business, rather than putting it out. However, you are also at a disadvantage, of course, for you need markets, and that suggests that marrying a daughter will be required.”

“And where do you find the money for that? Any possible ally will be aware of the problem and drive a hard bargain, will they not?”

Mr. Williams nodded in agreement. “That is precisely the case. In my position, I think I would have to consider a marriage of the son out of business to a lady of as much fortune as 1 could find, and immediately use the dowry to marry a daughter to trade. With good fortune my family might end up with a small surplus, without luck I might have to borrow at interest to fund the difference. But that would be no problem if my trade recovered. It is not a strategy that is guaranteed to bring success, but it offers by far the best chance of it. Why do we have sons except for such purposes?”

“So if I said this trader not only seemed to have no plans to marry his son, but had even let him go wandering Europe, where he is out of reach and consuming substantial amounts of money?”

“Then I would be strongly adverse to venturing money in any enterprise with which he is concerned. Am I right in thinking that you are still occupying yourself with the house of Cola?”

I nodded, with great reluctance. I had no desire to take Mr. Williams into my confidence in any way, but he was too intelligent to be fooled and an honest admission, I considered, might be enough to bind him to obligations of silence.

“Do not think that such matters have not come into our minds as well,” he said.

“Our?”

“We traders. We are jealously eager to hear news of our competitors and, sad though it is, rejoice too much to hear of a rival’s downfall. The better of us are always reminded that such a fate can easily befall anyone, of course. It takes very little ill fortune to turn riches into dust. One storm, or a war unforeseen, can be a catastrophe.”

“You may rest easy on that score,” I reassured him. “I cannot predict the weather, but no war will catch you unawares if I am able to assist you.”

“I am grateful for that. I have a large cargo bound for Hamburg next week. I would like it to arrive.”

“As far as I am aware, the prospect of Dutch pirates being allowed free run of the North Sea does not appear imminent. But it would still be wise to guard against the unscrupulous anticipating matters.”

“Believe me, I have taken every precaution possible. I am proof against the single privateer.”

“Good. Now, if I may return to Cola, what does the community of traders say?”

“That the father’s affairs are bad and getting worse, in a word. He has long suffered his eastern markets to be whittled away by the Turks; Crete is now all but lost; he made a brave venture to open up a new business in London, but that has been crippled by the death of his manager here, and the audacity of his English partner who has taken the business for his own. And there are rumors he has been selling ships to raise money. Three years ago he had a fleet of more than thirty ships; now it is down to almost twenty. And he has warehouses in Venice full of goods, which is money mold-ering to no purpose. If he does not move them he cannot meet his creditors. If he does not do that, he is finished.”

“He is held in good credit?”

“Everyone is held in good credit until they stop paying their bills.”

“So how do you explain the father’s actions? Or the son’s?”

“I cannot. He has an excellent reputation, so I must assume there is very much more to the situation than is accessible to a coffee-house gossip like myself. I cannot imagine what that might be. Be assured that if I hear anything I will let you know instantly.”

I thanked him and left. My interpretation of the situation was correct, and for that I was glad; but I was no closer to fathoming the problem than I was before.

The next piece of information which advanced my enquiry came from my involvement in the Royal Society, and took another ten days to fall into my lap, more by the grace of God than my own efforts. Fortunately, there was much to occupy my mind in that period, or I would have become very ill-tempered. It is a great failing and one 1 have long labored to overcome. “Blessed is he that waiteth” (Daniel 12:12)—the text I know by heart, but do not find it easy to follow.

I have mentioned this august organization already, and hinted how communications developing with men of curiosity all over the world aided my work. I had initially taken on the task of secretary for correspondence myself, but found my other duties burdensome, and gradually relinquished the task to Mr. Henry Oldenburg, a man of no experimental bent but with a pleasing ability to encourage others. He called one morning to summarize recent correspondence with me, because I knew well that notice of experiments and discoveries properly communicated was of the greatest importance to prevent foreigners claiming credit which was not theirs. The reputation of the society was the honor of the country, and the prompt establishment of priority was vital.

I may say here that this process gives the lie to Cola’s complaints over the matter of blood transfusion, as it was established (and not by us) that public knowledge of discoveries gives precedence. Lower did this, Cola did not—what is more, he is unable to provide any evidence whatsoever of his claims, while Lower can not only produce letters announcing his discovery, but can also call on men of unimpeachable integrity, like Sir Christopher Wren, to vouch for him. To demonstrate I am not partial in this matter, I can also cite Mr. Leibniz when he laid claim to a new method for interpolation by contrasting series of differences. When told that Regnauld had already communicated a similar proposition to Mersenne, Leibniz immediately withdrew any claim to priority—he accepted that making the matter known was decisive. Similarly, it is clear that Cola’s complaints are quite without foundation, for who did what first is unimportant. Not only did he fail to publish, his initial experiment was conducted in secret, and ended with the patient’s death.