Who Lies Beneath?

A YOUNG, laughing couple stumbled out of exit four of the Westminster underground on a windswept afternoon. His hands covered her eyes until...

A YOUNG, laughing couple stumbled out of exit four of the Westminster underground on a windswept afternoon. His hands covered her eyes until they stood at the perfect pavement spot for her first view of the Big Ben. She gasped, he watched.

I was at exit four too. But in an impulsive moment, seeking intrigue, I had booked my first free afternoon in London for an odd pursuit of Sir Isaac Newton, on foot.

The knighted scientist has not been around since 1727. But the historic abbey where he lies8212;alongside nearly 3,300 commoners, royals, poets and scientists8212;is witness to 1,000 years of coronations, burials and funerals. But it wasn8217;t good enough for Winston Churchill who allegedly said it would be too 8220;boring8221; to be buried there. The Abbey was built by Henry III, who lavished one-tenth of his kingdom8217;s fortune on it.

Hands deep in my pockets, I searched the pavement for the London Walks tour guide. There were foreign executives with a day to kill, students and retired couples, all waiting to walk into 8216;The Secrets of Westminster Abbey8217;. Many in the group come here often to memorise every hue of the stained glass, every niche of medieval art.

But the guide arrived, and briskly asked some to leave. Just in its second week, the walk had attracted more crowds than were permitted. Blame it on The Da Vinci Code8217;s chase to Newton8217;s tomb.

8216;8216;I know very little about Isaac Newton,8217;8217; the guide pleaded. 8216;8216;This tour is for first-timers.8217;8217; Some quickly left, preferring the Abbey8217;s regular and highly recommended tour. Not far from the entry to the southern cloister were rows of anti-Iraq war placards, but once inside the ancient dank walls, no external sounds could creep in to spoil the stillness.

Then you realised uncomfortably that you were walking over the long dead. The inscriptions on graves had worn into the grey stone floors. Who lay beneath? A story goes that centuries ago you could be buried here if you paid pound;10.

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ALL IN THE FAMILY

HISTORY aficionados usually first head to the Rosetta Stone at the British Museum. But if the history of technology inspires you, then wander into the Science Museum entry free in South Kensington, adjacent to the Natural History Museum.
I had just 60 minutes. That made it impossible to linger by Rocket8212;Stephenson8217;s steam locomotive preserved for over 170 years since 18298212;or ask why a Bajaj three-wheeler spelt autoricksha, with a Delhi registration, is parked in a section on honest energy for travel.
But the chatter in London8217;s science community revolves around October8217;s Hobbit discovery. It8217;s a she. LB1 lived 18,000 years ago, a 1-metre tall new species, unknown until she was discovered on an Indonesian island.
At the Science Museum, you can stare at a Hobbit look-alike8212;a near-perfect cast of her grapefruit-sized skull with many missing teeth. Is she grinning?

But this story8217;s about Newton. Our wandering took us to a 8216;scientists8217; corner8217;, dominated by a magnificent white and grey marble monument in Newton8217;s honour.

8216;Here lies that which was mortal of Isaac Newton8217; is the Abbey8217;s translation of the Latin inscription on his grave. We did not step on Newton, but slipped into silence, watching from a side aisle.

Newton reclines on the monument in classical costume, resting his elbow on books8212;8216;Divinity, Chronology, Opticks and Philo.Prin.Math8217;. While we admired the intricate decoration and sculptures8212;two winged boys, a celestial globe with signs of the Zodiac8212;I forgot where I was. I was standing some feet away from Newton8217;s grave. The inscription under my feet read: Charles Robert Darwin. Born 12 February 1809. Died 19 April 1882.

Compared to the lines of Latin on Newton8217;s monument, the evolutionary theorist8217;s bronze memorial had one word: Darwin. Gently I moved away. Wordlessly I said, sorry, Mr Darwin.