Someone who is a decidedly odd figure - brilliant beyond measure, but solitary, joyless, prickly to the point of paranoia, famously distracted (upon swinging their feet out of bed in the morning they reportedly sometimes sit for hours, immobilized by the sudden rush of thoughts to their head), and capable of the most riveting strangeness. They've built their own laboratory and use it to then engage in the most bizarre experiments. They insert a bodkin - a long needle of the sort used for sewing leather - into their eye socket and rub it around betwixt their eye and the bone as near to the backside of their eye as they can, just to see what will happen. What will happen, miraculously, is nothing - at least nothing lasting. On another occasion, they will stare at the Sun for as long as they can bear, to determine what effect it will have upon their vision. Again they will escape lasting damage, though they will have to spend some days in a darkened room before their eyes forgive them.
For their brilliance, real science must account for only part of their interests. At least half their working life must be given over to alchemy and wayward religious pursuits. These must not be mere dabblings but wholehearted devotions. They must be a secret adherent of a dangerously heretical sect called Arianism, whose principal tenet is the belief that there had been no Holy Trinity. They must spend endless hours studying the floor plan of the lost Temple of King Solomon in Jerusalem (teaching themselves Hebrew in the process, the better to scan original texts) with the belief that it holds mathematical clues to the dates of the second coming of Christ and the end of the world.