Chapter the First

Let Us Begin


"Gentlemen," called out Vice President Carl Theimer from across the cold tiles, "should we begin." It was not a question, and obediently, all those assembled politely terminated their conversations and moved to the front of the room where hard wooden chairs had been placed in precise rows. Mendel and Grunewald went with them.
"Tonight we have a great honor," the Vice President told the forty citizens of Brno, after they had taken their seats. "Yes, a great honor. It is not often that Brother Gregory agrees to tell us something of his work, but tonight he has relented." He paused for effect, and looked over his glasses at the men before him. Each was in early middle age or older; each was soberly dressed in dark colors. The only hint of frivolity was the occasional fur collar around the neck of the greatcoats, which had not yet been removed. Casting his eye over the group, the Chairman saw that Mendel has attracted a very small crowd. A few naturalists, like himself, who had been intrigued by remarks the monk had made the previous year about plant grafting. A scattering of astronomers, were supplemented by chemists and physicists, like Grunewald. All of them were solid Brno citizens who had braved a very cold night to hear Mendel speak. Although he was popular enough, Brother Gregory was not an inspiring speaker and tended to belabor his points ad nauseam.

There was a scattering of applause, and much shuffling of seats. It was cold and most in the room just wanted to get to the talk.
But the Vice President was not to be put off, he presided over the meetings of the society and enjoyed his time in the limelight. "As you know," he went on, "Brother Gregory's garden has been the subject of much interest these last few years. I myself have often seen him digging away as soon as the frost has ended each spring." In this the Vice President exaggerated somewhat; he had never actually seen the monk digging, but it was the kind of remark he was fond of making.
"And tonight we will get to hear all the results he has dug up." If he had expected a polite laugh at his small attempt at humor, the Vice President was doomed to disappointment. All he got was more scraping as chairs were adjusted across the floor.
"Hummmp," he cleared his throat and hurried on, "but what am I saying. Brother Gregory can speak for himself. Gentlemen, please join me in giving a warm welcome to one of our own founding members, who tonight will enlighten us on the subject of ...". He floundered and looked desperately at the monk.
"Versuche uber Pflanzenhybriden" ("Experiments with Plant Hybrids"), he said quietly in German, the language of science in the Austrian Empire.
"Good, excellent," said Theimer enthusiastically, "plant hybrids. Brother Gregory."

Few of warmly coated men sitting in the Realschule that February evening could have imagined the significance of what they were about to hear, least of all Brother Timothy. He sat beside Abbot Napp in the front row of seats and kept his long fingers uncomfortably twisted on his lap. Behind him, Brother Matthew stared at the long hair and longed to grab a handful and pull. For he knew better than most that Brother Timothy was an ambitious fanatic who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals. There were only two things important to Brother Timothy; the Word of God and the future of Brother Timothy.

Since coming to the Augustinian Monastery in 1834, the ambitious monk had made a very careful study of his fellow clerics, and then had begun his climb towards the abbacy. Like Mendel he had attended Olomouc Philosophy Institute and had been given the opportunity to study at Vienna University by Abbot Napp, the man he hoped to replace one day. Brother Matthew ground his teeth as he remember the day Brother Timothy returned to the monastery. In that year Klacel had gained a friend and also had become Brother Timothy's first victim. By devious means, including leaking Klacel's private papers to the local authorities, Brother Timothy had arranged for Brother Matthew to be dismissed from his teaching post, and had promptly taken it over for himself. From 1843 to 1851, Brother Timothy had taught philosophy in Brno in place of Klacel.

With Klacel out of the way, the ambitious monk had soon identified Brother Gregory as the next obstacle to be removed. Not that Brother Gregory knew or understood his role as appointed victim. Mendel was quietly popular among the Brothers at the Monastery. He served the Lord and his garden equally, but never made a fuss or even lost his temper when one of the local boys picked his experimental peas for dinner one evening, ruining almost a year's work. He was good at paper work, and even better at resolving the various disputes that occasionally erupted among the Brothers; religious or secular. But his love (after God) was science. As Brother Timothy knew only too well, Mendel had a good background in the subject, having studied with F. Diebl in the Brno Philosophical Institute, and F. Unger at the University of Vienna. Diebl had published a four volume book on plant breeding which had been required reading during Mendel's time there in 1846.

This important book described how wild plants could be tamed and cultivated into improved forms by artificial pollination. It also described techniques for crossing one plant with another, blossom anatomy, and, after pollination, how to collect the seeds; all topics which were to be critical in Mendel's own work.

Not knowing the what was going on in the minds of at least some of his audience, Mendel moved to the front of the room and cleared his throat. Sitting liked a cat watching a mouse, Brother Timothy listened as Mendel began to describe what he had done.