As they passed the chapel erected in memory of the massacre of
the Theban legion, they hurriedly crossed themselves. Master
Zacharius was not to be seen.
At last the village of Evionnaz appeared in the midst of this
sterile region. The hardest heart would have been moved to see
this hamlet, lost among these horrible solitudes. The old man
sped on, and plunged into the deepest gorge of the Dents-du-Midi,
which pierce the sky with their sharp peaks.
Soon a ruin, old and gloomy as the rocks at its base, rose before
him.
"It is there--there!" he cried, hastening his pace still more
frantically.
[Illustration: "It is there--there!"]
The château of Andernatt was a ruin even then. A thick, crumbling
tower rose above it, and seemed to menace with its downfall the
old gables which reared themselves below. The vast piles of
jagged stones were gloomy to look on. Several dark halls appeared
amid the debris, with caved-in ceilings, now become the abode of
vipers.
A low and narrow postern, opening upon a ditch choked with
rubbish, gave access to the château. Who had dwelt there none
knew. No doubt some margrave, half lord, half brigand, had
sojourned in it; to the margrave had succeeded bandits or
counterfeit coiners, who had been hanged on the scene of their
crime. The legend went that, on winter nights, Satan came to lead
his diabolical dances on the slope of the deep gorges in which
the shadow of these ruins was engulfed.
But Master Zacharius was not dismayed by their sinister aspect.
He reached the postern. No one forbade him to pass. A spacious
and gloomy court presented itself to his eyes; no one forbade him
to cross it. He passed along the kind of inclined plane which
conducted to one of the long corridors, whose arches seemed to
banish daylight from beneath their heavy springings. His advance
was unresisted. Gerande, Aubert, and Scholastique closely
followed him.
Master Zacharius, as if guided by an irresistible hand, seemed
sure of his way, and strode along with rapid step. He reached an
old worm-eaten door, which fell before his blows, whilst the bats
described oblique circles around his head.
An immense hall, better preserved than the rest, was soon
reached. High sculptured panels, on which serpents, ghouls, and
other strange figures seemed to disport themselves confusedly,
covered its walls. Several long and narrow windows, like
loopholes, shivered beneath the bursts of the tempest.
Master Zacharius, on reaching the middle of this hall, uttered a
cry of joy.
On an iron support, fastened to the wall, stood the clock in
which now resided his entire life. This unequalled masterpiece
represented an ancient Roman church, with buttresses of wrought
iron, with its heavy bell-tower, where there was a complete chime
for the anthem of the day, the "Angelus," the mass, vespers,
compline, and the benediction. Above the church door, which
opened at the hour of the services, was placed a "rose," in the
centre of which two hands moved, and the archivault of which
reproduced the twelve hours of the face sculptured in relief.
Between the door and the rose, just as Scholastique had said, a
maxim, relative to the employment of every moment of the day,
appeared on a copper plate. Master Zacharius had once regulated
this succession of devices with a really Christian solicitude;
the hours of prayer, of work, of repast, of recreation, and of
repose, followed each other according to the religious discipline,
and were to infallibly insure salvation to him who scrupulously
observed their commands.
Master Zacharius, intoxicated with joy, went forward to take
possession of the clock, when a frightful roar of laughter
resounded behind him.
He turned, and by the light of a smoky lamp recognized the little
old man of Geneva.
"You here?" cried he.
Gerande was afraid. She drew closer to Aubert.
"Good-day, Master Zacharius," said the monster.
"Who are you?"
"Signor Pittonaccio, at your service! You have come to give me
your daughter! You have remembered my words, 'Gerande will not
wed Aubert.'"
The young apprentice rushed upon Pittonaccio, who escaped from
him like a shadow.
"Stop, Aubert!" cried Master Zacharius.
"Good-night," said Pittonaccio, and he disappeared.
"My father, let us fly from this hateful place!" cried Gerande.
"My father!"
Master Zacharius was no longer there. He was pursuing the phantom
of Pittonaccio across the rickety corridors. Scholastique,
Gerande, and Aubert remained, speechless and fainting, in the
large gloomy hall. The young girl had fallen upon a stone seat;
the old servant knelt beside her, and prayed; Aubert remained
erect, watching his betrothed. Pale lights wandered in the
darkness, and the silence was only broken by the movements of the
little animals which live in old wood, and the noise of which
marks the hours of "death watch."
When daylight came, they ventured upon the endless staircase
which wound beneath these ruined masses; for two hours they
wandered thus without meeting a living soul, and hearing only a
far-off echo responding to their cries. Sometimes they found
themselves buried a hundred feet below the ground, and sometimes
they reached places whence they could overlook the wild
mountains.
Chance brought them at last back again to the vast hall, which
had sheltered them during this night of anguish. It was no longer
empty. Master Zacharius and Pittonaccio were talking there
together, the one upright and rigid as a corpse, the other
crouching over a marble table.
Master Zacharius, when he perceived Gerande, went forward and
took her by the hand, and led her towards Pittonaccio, saying,
"Behold your lord and master, my daughter. Gerande, behold your
husband!"
Gerande shuddered from head to foot.
"Never!" cried Aubert, "for she is my betrothed."
"Never!" responded Gerande, like a plaintive echo.
Pittonaccio began to laugh.
"You wish me to die, then!" exclaimed the old man. "There, in
that clock, the last which goes of all which have gone from my
hands, my life is shut up; and this man tells me, 'When I have
thy daughter, this clock shall belong to thee.' And this man will
not rewind it. He can break it, and plunge me into chaos. Ah, my
daughter, you no longer love me!"
"My father!" murmured Gerande, recovering consciousness.
"If you knew what I have suffered, far away from this principle
of my existence!" resumed the old man. "Perhaps no one looked
after this timepiece. Perhaps its springs were left to wear out,
its wheels to get clogged. But now, in my own hands, I can
nourish this health so dear, for I must not die,--I, the great
watchmaker of Geneva. Look, my daughter, how these hands advance
with certain step. See, five o'clock is about to strike. Listen
well, and look at the maxim which is about to be revealed."
Five o'clock struck with a noise which resounded sadly in
Gerande's soul, and these words appeared in red letters:
"YOU MUST EAT OF THE FRUITS OF THE TREE OF SCIENCE."
Aubert and Gerande looked at each other stupefied. These were no
longer the pious sayings of the Catholic watchmaker. The breath
of Satan must have passed over it. But Zacharius paid no
attention to this, and resumed--
"Dost thou hear, my Gerande? I live, I still live! Listen to my
breathing,--see the blood circulating in my veins! No, thou
wouldst not kill thy father, and thou wilt accept this man for
thy husband, so that I may become immortal, and at last attain
the power of God!"
At these blasphemous words old Scholastique crossed herself, and
Pittonaccio laughed aloud with joy.
"And then, Gerande, thou wilt be happy with him. See this man,--he
is Time! Thy existence will be regulated with absolute
precision. Gerande, since I gave thee life, give life to thy
father!"
[Illustration: "See this man,--he is Time!"]
"Gerande," murmured Aubert, "I am thy betrothed."
"He is my father!" replied Gerande, fainting.
"She is thine!" said Master Zacharius. "Pittonaccio, them wilt
keep thy promise!"
"Here is the key of the clock," replied the horrible man.
Master Zacharius seized the long key, which resembled an uncoiled
snake, and ran to the clock, which he hastened to wind up with
fantastic rapidity. The creaking of the spring jarred upon the
nerves. The old watchmaker wound and wound the key, without
stopping a moment, and it seemed as if the movement were beyond
his control. He wound more and more quickly, with strange
contortions, until he fell from sheer weariness.
"There, it is wound up for a century!" he cried.
Aubert rushed from the hall as if he were mad. After long
wandering, he found the outlet of the hateful château, and
hastened into the open air. He returned to the hermitage of
Notre-Dame-du-Sex, and talked so despairingly to the holy
recluse, that the latter consented to return with him to the
château of Andernatt.
If, during these hours of anguish, Gerande had not wept, it was
because her tears were exhausted.
Master Zacharius had not left the hall. He ran every moment to
listen to the regular beating of the old clock.
Meanwhile the clock had struck, and to Scholastique's great
terror, these words had appeared on the silver face:--"MAN OUGHT
TO BECOME THE EQUAL OF GOD."
The old man had not only not been shocked by these impious
maxims, but read them deliriously, and flattered himself with
thoughts of pride, whilst Pittonaccio kept close by him.
The marriage-contract was to be signed at midnight. Gerande,
almost unconscious, saw or heard nothing. The silence was only
broken by the old man's words, and the chuckling of Pittonaccio.
Eleven o'clock struck. Master Zacharius shuddered, and read in a
loud voice:--
"MAN SHOULD BE THE SLAVE OF SCIENCE, AND
SACRIFICE TO IT RELATIVES AND FAMILY."
"Yes!" he cried, "there is nothing but science in this world!"
The hands slipped over the face of the clock with the hiss of a
serpent, and the pendulum beat with accelerated strokes.
Master Zacharius no longer spoke. He had fallen to the floor, his
throat rattled, and from his oppressed bosom came only these
half-broken words: "Life--science!"
The scene had now two new witnesses, the hermit and Aubert.
Master Zacharius lay upon the floor; Gerande was praying beside
him, more dead than alive.
Of a sudden a dry, hard noise was heard, which preceded the
strike.
Master Zacharius sprang up.
"Midnight!" he cried.
The hermit stretched out his hand towards the old clock,--and
midnight did not sound.
Master Zacharius uttered a terrible cry, which must have been
heard in hell, when these words appeared:--
"WHO EVER SHALL ATTEMPT TO MAKE HIMSELF THE EQUAL OF GOD, SHALL
BE FOR EVER DAMNED!"
The old clock burst with a noise like thunder, and the spring,
escaping, leaped across the hall with a thousand fantastic
contortions; the old man rose, ran after it, trying in vain to
seize it, and exclaiming, "My soul,--my soul!"
The spring bounded before him, first on one side, then on the
other, and he could not reach it.
At last Pittonaccio seized it, and, uttering a horrible
blasphemy, ingulfed himself in the earth.
Master Zacharius fell backwards. He was dead.
[Illustration: He was dead.]
The old watchmaker was buried in the midst of the peaks of
Andernatt.
Then Aubert and Gerande returned to Geneva, and during the long
life which God accorded to them, they made it a duty to redeem by
prayer the soul of the castaway of science.
A DRAMA IN THE AIR.
In the month of September, 185--, I arrived at Frankfort-on-the-Maine.
My passage through the principal German cities had been brilliantly
marked by balloon ascents; but as yet no German had accompanied me in
my car, and the fine experiments made at Paris by MM. Green, Eugene
Godard, and Poitevin had not tempted the grave Teutons to essay
aerial voyages.
But scarcely had the news of my approaching ascent spread through
Frankfort, than three of the principal citizens begged the favour
of being allowed to ascend with me. Two days afterwards we were
to start from the Place de la Comédie. I began at once to get my
balloon ready. It was of silk, prepared with gutta percha, a
substance impermeable by acids or gasses; and its volume, which
was three thousand cubic yards, enabled it to ascend to the
loftiest heights.
The day of the ascent was that of the great September fair, which
attracts so many people to Frankfort. Lighting gas, of a perfect
quality and of great lifting power, had been furnished to me in
excellent condition, and about eleven o'clock the balloon was
filled; but only three-quarters filled,--an indispensable
precaution, for, as one rises, the atmosphere diminishes in
density, and the fluid enclosed within the balloon, acquiring
more elasticity, might burst its sides. My calculations had
furnished me with exactly the quantity of gas necessary to carry
up my companions and myself.
We were to start at noon. The impatient crowd which pressed
around the enclosed space, filling the enclosed square,
overflowing into the contiguous streets, and covering the houses
from the ground-floor to the slated gables, presented a striking
scene. The high winds of the preceding days had subsided. An
oppressive heat fell from the cloudless sky. Scarcely a breath
animated the atmosphere. In such weather, one might descend again
upon the very spot whence he had risen.
I carried three hundred pounds of ballast in bags; the car, quite
round, four feet in diameter, was comfortably arranged; the
hempen cords which supported it stretched symmetrically over the
upper hemisphere of the balloon; the compass was in place, the
barometer suspended in the circle which united the supporting
cords, and the anchor carefully put in order. All was now ready
for the ascent.
Among those who pressed around the enclosure, I remarked a young
man with a pale face and agitated features. The sight of him
impressed me. He was an eager spectator of my ascents, whom I had
already met in several German cities. With an uneasy air, he
closely watched the curious machine, as it lay motionless a few
feet above the ground; and he remained silent among those about
him.
Twelve o'clock came. The moment had arrived, but my travelling
companions did not appear.
I sent to their houses, and learnt that one had left for Hamburg,
another for Vienna, and the third for London. Their courage had
failed them at the moment of undertaking one of those excursions
which, thanks to the ability of living aeronauts, are free from
all danger. As they formed, in some sort, a part of the programme
of the day, the fear had seized them that they might be forced to
execute it faithfully, and they had fled far from the scene at
the instant when the balloon was being filled. Their courage was
evidently the inverse ratio of their speed--in decamping.
The multitude, half deceived, showed not a little ill-humour. I
did not hesitate to ascend alone. In order to re-establish the
equilibrium between the specific gravity of the balloon and the
weight which had thus proved wanting, I replaced my companions by
more sacks of sand, and got into the car. The twelve men who held
the balloon by twelve cords fastened to the equatorial circle,
let them slip a little between their fingers, and the balloon
rose several feet higher. There was not a breath of wind, and the
atmosphere was so leaden that it seemed to forbid the ascent.
"Is everything ready?" I cried.
The men put themselves in readiness. A last glance told me that I
might go.
"Attention!"
There was a movement in the crowd, which seemed to be invading
the enclosure.
"Let go!"
The balloon rose slowly, but I experienced a shock which threw me
to the bottom of the car.
When I got up, I found myself face to face with an unexpected
fellow-voyager,--the pale young man.
"Monsieur, I salute you," said he, with the utmost coolness.
[Illustration: "Monsieur, I salute you,"]
"By what right--"
"Am I here? By the right which the impossibility of your getting
rid of me confers."
I was amazed! His calmness put me out of countenance, and I had
nothing to reply. I looked at the intruder, but he took no notice
of my astonishment.
"Does my weight disarrange your equilibrium, monsieur?" he asked.
"You will permit me--"
And without waiting for my consent, he relieved the balloon of
two bags, which he threw into space.
"Monsieur," said I, taking the only course now possible, "you
have come; very well, you will remain; but to me alone belongs
the management of the balloon."
"Monsieur," said he, "your urbanity is French all over: it comes
from my own country. I morally press the hand you refuse me. Make
all precautions, and act as seems best to you. I will wait till
you have done--"
"For what?"
"To talk with you."
The barometer had fallen to twenty-six inches. We were nearly six
hundred yards above the city; but nothing betrayed the horizontal
displacement of the balloon, for the mass of air in which it is
enclosed goes forward with it. A sort of confused glow enveloped
the objects spread out under us, and unfortunately obscured their
outline.
I examined my companion afresh.
He was a man of thirty years, simply clad. The sharpness of his
features betrayed an indomitable energy, and he seemed very
muscular. Indifferent to the astonishment he created, he remained
motionless, trying to distinguish the objects which were vaguely
confused below us.
"Miserable mist!" said he, after a few moments.
I did not reply.
"You owe me a grudge?" he went on. "Bah! I could not pay for my
journey, and it was necessary to take you by surprise."
"Nobody asks you to descend, monsieur!"
"Eh, do you not know, then, that the same thing happened to the
Counts of Laurencin and Dampierre, when they ascended at Lyons,
on the 15th of January, 1784? A young merchant, named Fontaine,
scaled the gallery, at the risk of capsizing the machine. He
accomplished the journey, and nobody died of it!"
"Once on the ground, we will have an explanation," replied I,
piqued at the light tone in which he spoke.
"Bah! Do not let us think of our return."
"Do you think, then, that I shall not hasten to descend?"
"Descend!" said he, in surprise. "Descend? Let us begin by first
ascending."
And before I could prevent it, two more bags had been thrown over
the car, without even having been emptied.
"Monsieur!" cried I, in a rage.
[Illustration: "Monsieur!" cried I, in a rage.]
"I know your ability," replied the unknown quietly, "and your
fine ascents are famous. But if Experience is the sister of
Practice, she is also a cousin of Theory, and I have studied the
aerial art long. It has got into my head!" he added sadly,
falling into a silent reverie.
The balloon, having risen some distance farther, now became
stationary. The unknown consulted the barometer, and said,--
"Here we are, at eight hundred yards. Men are like insects. See!
I think we should always contemplate them from this height, to
judge correctly of their proportions. The Place de la Comédie is
transformed into an immense ant-hill. Observe the crowd which is
gathered on the quays; and the mountains also get smaller and
smaller. We are over the Cathedral. The Main is only a line,
cutting the city in two, and the bridge seems a thread thrown
between the two banks of the river."
The atmosphere became somewhat chilly.
"There is nothing I would not do for you, my host," said the
unknown. "If you are cold, I will take off my coat and lend it to
you."
"Thanks," said I dryly.
"Bah! Necessity makes law. Give me your hand. I am your
fellow-countryman; you will learn something in my company, and my
conversation will indemnify you for the trouble I have given
you."
I sat down, without replying, at the opposite extremity of the
car. The young man had taken a voluminous manuscript from his
great-coat. It was an essay on ballooning.
"I possess," said he, "the most curious collection of engravings
and caricatures extant concerning aerial manias. How people
admired and scoffed at the same time at this precious discovery!
We are happily no longer in the age in which Montgolfier tried to
make artificial clouds with steam, or a gas having electrical
properties, produced by the combustion of moist straw and
chopped-up wool."
"Do you wish to depreciate the talent of the inventors?" I asked,
for I had resolved to enter into the adventure. "Was it not good
to have proved by experience the possibility of rising in the
air?"
"Ah, monsieur, who denies the glory of the first aerial
navigators? It required immense courage to rise by means of those
frail envelopes which only contained heated air. But I ask you,
has the aerial science made great progress since Blanchard's
ascensions, that is, since nearly a century ago? Look here,
monsieur."
The unknown took an engraving from his portfolio.
"Here," said he, "is the first aerial voyage undertaken by
Pilâtre des Rosiers and the Marquis d'Arlandes, four months after
the discovery of balloons. Louis XVI. refused to consent to the
venture, and two men who were condemned to death were the first
to attempt the aerial ascent. Pilâtre des Rosiers became
indignant at this injustice, and, by means of intrigues, obtained
permission to make the experiment. The car, which renders the
management easy, had not then been invented, and a circular
gallery was placed around the lower and contracted part of the
Montgolfier balloon. The two aeronauts must then remain
motionless at each extremity of this gallery, for the moist straw
which filled it forbade them all motion. A chafing-dish with fire
was suspended below the orifice of the balloon; when the
aeronauts wished to rise, they threw straw upon this brazier, at
the risk of setting fire to the balloon, and the air, more
heated, gave it fresh ascending power. The two bold travellers
rose, on the 21st of November, 1783, from the Muette Gardens,
which the dauphin had put at their disposal. The balloon went up
majestically, passed over the Isle of Swans, crossed the Seine at
the Conference barrier, and, drifting between the dome of the
Invalides and the Military School, approached the Church of Saint
Sulpice. Then the aeronauts added to the fire, crossed the
Boulevard, and descended beyond the Enfer barrier. As it touched
the soil, the balloon collapsed, and for a few moments buried
Pilâtre des Rosiers under its folds."
"Unlucky augury," I said, interested in the story, which affected
me nearly.
"An augury of the catastrophe which was later to cost this
unfortunate man his life," replied the unknown sadly. "Have you
never experienced anything like it?"
"Never,"
"Bah! Misfortunes sometimes occur unforeshadowed!" added my
companion.
He then remained silent.
Meanwhile we were advancing southward, and Frankfort had already
passed from beneath us.
"Perhaps we shall have a storm," said the young man.
"We shall descend before that," I replied.
"Indeed! It is better to ascend. We shall escape it more surely."
And two more bags of sand were hurled into space.
The balloon rose rapidly, and stopped at twelve hundred yards. I
became colder; and yet the sun's rays, falling upon the surface,
expanded the gas within, and gave it a greater ascending force.
"Fear nothing," said the unknown. "We have still three thousand
five hundred fathoms of breathing air. Besides, do not trouble
yourself about what I do."
I would have risen, but a vigorous hand held me to my seat.
"Your name?" I asked.
"My name? What matters it to you?"
"I demand your name!"
"My name is Erostratus or Empedocles, whichever you choose!"
This reply was far from reassuring.
The unknown, besides, talked with such strange coolness that I
anxiously asked myself whom I had to deal with.
"Monsieur," he continued, "nothing original has been imagined
since the physicist Charles. Four months after the discovery of
balloons, this able man had invented the valve, which permits the
gas to escape when the balloon is too full, or when you wish to
descend; the car, which aids the management of the machine; the
netting, which holds the envelope of the balloon, and divides the
weight over its whole surface; the ballast, which enables you to
ascend, and to choose the place of your landing; the india-rubber
coating, which renders the tissue impermeable; the barometer,
which shows the height attained. Lastly, Charles used hydrogen,
which, fourteen times lighter than air, permits you to penetrate
to the highest atmospheric regions, and does not expose you to
the dangers of a combustion in the air. On the 1st of December,
1783, three hundred thousand spectators were crowded around the
Tuileries. Charles rose, and the soldiers presented arms to him.
He travelled nine leagues in the air, conducting his balloon with
an ability not surpassed by modern aeronauts. The king awarded
him a pension of two thousand livres; for then they encouraged
new inventions."
The unknown now seemed to be under the influence of considerable
agitation.
"Monsieur," he resumed, "I have studied this, and I am convinced
that the first aeronauts guided their balloons. Without speaking
of Blanchard, whose assertions may be received with doubt,
Guyton-Morveaux, by the aid of oars and rudder, made his machine
answer to the helm, and take the direction he determined on. More
recently, M. Julien, a watchmaker, made some convincing
experiments at the Hippodrome, in Paris; for, by a special
mechanism, his aerial apparatus, oblong in form, went visibly
against the wind. It occurred to M. Petin to place four hydrogen
balloons together; and, by means of sails hung horizontally and
partly folded, he hopes to be able to disturb the equilibrium,
and, thus inclining the apparatus, to convey it in an oblique
direction. They speak, also, of forces to overcome the resistance
of currents,--for instance, the screw; but the screw, working on
a moveable centre, will give no result. I, monsieur, have
discovered the only means of guiding balloons; and no academy has
come to my aid, no city has filled up subscriptions for me, no
government has thought fit to listen to me! It is infamous!"
The unknown gesticulated fiercely, and the car underwent violent
oscillations. I had much trouble in calming him.
Meanwhile the balloon had entered a more rapid current, and we
advanced south, at fifteen hundred yards above the earth.
"See, there is Darmstadt," said my companion, leaning over the
car. "Do you perceive the château? Not very distinctly, eh? What
would you have? The heat of the storm makes the outline of
objects waver, and you must have a skilled eye to recognize
localities."
"Are you certain it is Darmstadt?" I asked.
"I am sure of it. We are now six leagues from Frankfort."
"Then we must descend."
"Descend! You would not go down, on the steeples," said the
unknown, with a chuckle.
"No, but in the suburbs of the city."
"Well, let us avoid the steeples!"
So speaking, my companion seized some bags of ballast. I hastened
to prevent him; but he overthrew me with one hand, and the
unballasted balloon ascended to two thousand yards.
"Rest easy," said he, "and do not forget that Brioschi, Biot,
Gay-Lussac, Bixio, and Barral ascended to still greater heights
to make their scientific experiments."
"Monsieur, we must descend," I resumed, trying to persuade him by
gentleness. "The storm is gathering around us. It would be more
prudent--"
"Bah! We will mount higher than the storm, and then we shall no
longer fear it!" cried my companion. "What is nobler than to
overlook the clouds which oppress the earth? Is it not an honour
thus to navigate on aerial billows? The greatest men have
travelled as we are doing. The Marchioness and Countess de
Montalembert, the Countess of Podenas, Mademoiselle la Garde, the
Marquis de Montalembert, rose from the Faubourg Saint-Antoine for
these unknown regions, and the Duke de Chartres exhibited much
skill and presence of mind in his ascent on the 15th of July,
1784. At Lyons, the Counts of Laurencin and Dampierre; at Nantes,
M. de Luynes; at Bordeaux, D'Arbelet des Granges; in Italy, the
Chevalier Andreani; in our own time, the Duke of Brunswick,--have
all left the traces of their glory in the air. To equal these
great personages, we must penetrate still higher than they into
the celestial depths! To approach the infinite is to comprehend
it!"
The rarefaction of the air was fast expanding the hydrogen in the
balloon, and I saw its lower part, purposely left empty, swell
out, so that it was absolutely necessary to open the valve; but
my companion did not seem to intend that I should manage the
balloon as I wished. I then resolved to pull the valve cord
secretly, as he was excitedly talking; for I feared to guess with
whom I had to deal. It would have been too horrible! It was
nearly a quarter before one. We had been gone forty minutes from
Frankfort; heavy clouds were coming against the wind from the
south, and seemed about to burst upon us.
"Have you lost all hope of succeeding in your project?" I asked
with anxious interest.
"All hope!" exclaimed the unknown in a low voice. "Wounded by
slights and caricatures, these asses' kicks have finished me! It
is the eternal punishment reserved for innovators! Look at these
caricatures of all periods, of which my portfolio is full."
While my companion was fumbling with his papers, I had seized the
valve-cord without his perceiving it. I feared, however, that he
might hear the hissing noise, like a water-course, which the gas
makes in escaping.
"How many jokes were made about the Abbé Miolan!" said he. "He
was to go up with Janninet and Bredin. During the filling their
balloon caught fire, and the ignorant populace tore it in pieces!
Then this caricature of 'curious animals' appeared, giving each
of them a punning nickname."
I pulled the valve-cord, and the barometer began to ascend. It
was time. Some far-off rumblings were heard in the south.
"Here is another engraving," resumed the unknown, not suspecting
what I was doing. "It is an immense balloon carrying a ship,
strong castles, houses, and so on. The caricaturists did not
suspect that their follies would one day become truths. It is
complete, this large vessel. On the left is its helm, with the
pilot's box; at the prow are pleasure-houses, an immense organ,
and a cannon to call the attention of the inhabitants of the
earth or the moon; above the poop there are the observatory and
the balloon long-boat; in the equatorial circle, the army
barrack; on the left, the funnel; then the upper galleries for
promenading, sails, pinions; below, the cafés and general
storehouse. Observe this pompous announcement: 'Invented for the
happiness of the human race, this globe will depart at once for
the ports of the Levant, and on its return the programme of its
voyages to the two poles and the extreme west will be announced.
No one need furnish himself with anything; everything is
foreseen, and all will prosper. There will be a uniform price for
all places of destination, but it will be the same for the most
distant countries of our hemisphere--that is to say, a thousand
louis for one of any of the said journeys. And it must be
confessed that this sum is very moderate, when the speed,
comfort, and arrangements which will be enjoyed on the balloon
are considered--arrangements which are not to be found on land,
while on the balloon each passenger may consult his own habits
and tastes. This is so true that in the same place some will be
dancing, others standing; some will be enjoying delicacies;
others fasting. Whoever desires the society of wits may satisfy
himself; whoever is stupid may find stupid people to keep him
company. Thus pleasure will be the soul of the aerial company.'
All this provoked laughter; but before long, if I am not cut off,
they will see it all realized."
We were visibly descending. He did not perceive it!
"This kind of 'game at balloons,'" he resumed, spreading out
before me some of the engravings of his valuable collection,
"this game contains the entire history of the aerostatic art. It
is used by elevated minds, and is played with dice and counters,
with whatever stakes you like, to be paid or received according
to where the player arrives."
"Why," said I, "you seem to have studied the science of
aerostation profoundly."
"Yes, monsieur, yes! From Phaethon, Icarus, Architas, I have
searched for, examined, learnt everything. I could render immense
services to the world in this art, if God granted me life. But
that will not be!"
"Why?"
"Because my name is Empedocles, or Erostratus."
Meanwhile, the balloon was happily approaching the earth; but
when one is falling, the danger is as great at a hundred feet as
at five thousand.
"Do you recall the battle of Fleurus?" resumed my companion,
whose face became more and more animated. "It was at that battle
that Contello, by order of the Government, organized a company of
balloonists. At the siege of Manbenge General Jourdan derived so
much service from this new method of observation that Contello
ascended twice a day with the general himself. The communications
between the aeronaut and his agents who held the balloon were
made by means of small white, red, and yellow flags. Often the
gun and cannon shot were directed upon the balloon when he
ascended, but without result. When General Jourdan was preparing
to invest Charleroi, Contello went into the vicinity, ascended
from the plain of Jumet, and continued his observations for seven
or eight hours with General Morlot, and this no doubt aided in
giving us the victory of Fleurus. General Jourdan publicly
acknowledged the help which the aeronautical observations had
afforded him. Well, despite the services rendered on that
occasion and during the Belgian campaign, the year which had seen
the beginning of the military career of balloons saw also its
end. The school of Meudon, founded by the Government, was closed
by Buonaparte on his return from Egypt. And now, what can you
expect from the new-born infant? as Franklin said. The infant was
born alive; it should not be stifled!"
[Illustration: "He continued his observations for seven or eight
hours with General Morlot"]
The unknown bowed his head in his hands, and reflected for some
moments; then raising his head, he said,--
"Despite my prohibition, monsieur, you have opened the valve."
I dropped the cord.
"Happily," he resumed, "we have still three hundred pounds of
ballast."
"What is your purpose?" said I.
"Have you ever crossed the seas?" he asked.
I turned pale.
"It is unfortunate," he went on, "that we are being driven
towards the Adriatic. That is only a stream; but higher up we may
find other currents."
And, without taking any notice of me, he threw over several bags
of sand; then, in a menacing voice, he said,--
"I let you open the valve because the expansion of the gas
threatened to burst the balloon; but do not do it again!"
Then he went on as follows:--
"You remember the voyage of Blanchard and Jeffries from Dover to
Calais? It was magnificent! On the 7th of January, 1785, there
being a north-west wind, their balloon was inflated with gas on
the Dover coast. A mistake of equilibrium, just as they were
ascending, forced them to throw out their ballast so that they
might not go down again, and they only kept thirty pounds. It was
too little; for, as the wind did not freshen, they only advanced
very slowly towards the French coast. Besides, the permeability
of the tissue served to reduce the inflation little by little,
and in an hour and a half the aeronauts perceived that they were
descending.
"'What shall we do?' said Jeffries.
"'We are only one quarter of the way over,' replied Blanchard,
'and very low down. On rising, we shall perhaps meet more
favourable winds.'
"'Let us throw out the rest of the sand.'
"The balloon acquired some ascending force, but it soon began to
descend again. Towards the middle of the transit the aeronauts
threw over their books and tools. A quarter of an hour after,
Blanchard said to Jeffries,--
"'The barometer?'
"'It is going up! We are lost, and yet there is the French
coast.'
"A loud noise was heard.
"'Has the balloon burst?' asked Jeffries.
"'No. The loss of the gas has reduced the inflation of the lower
part of the balloon. But we are still descending. We are lost!
Out with everything useless!'
"Provisions, oars, and rudder were thrown into the sea. The
aeronauts were only one hundred yards high.
"'We are going up again,' said the doctor.
"'No. It is the spurt caused by the diminution of the weight, and
not a ship in sight, not a bark on the horizon! To the sea with
our clothing!'
"The unfortunates stripped themselves, but the balloon continued
to descend.
"'Blanchard,' said Jeffries, 'you should have made this voyage
alone; you consented to take me; I will sacrifice myself! I am
going to throw myself into the water, and the balloon, relieved
of my weight, will mount again.'
"'No, no! It is frightful!'
"The balloon became less and less inflated, and as it doubled up
its concavity pressed the gas against the sides, and hastened its
downward course.
[Illustration: The balloon became less and less inflated]
"'Adieu, my friend," said the doctor. 'God preserve you!'
"He was about to throw himself over, when Blanchard held him
back.
"'There is one more chance,' said he. 'We can cut the cords which
hold the car, and cling to the net! Perhaps the balloon will
rise. Let us hold ourselves ready. But--the barometer is going
down! The wind is freshening! We are saved!'
"The aeronauts perceived Calais. Their joy was delirious. A few
moments more, and they had fallen in the forest of Guines. I do
not doubt," added the unknown, "that, under similar circumstances,
you would have followed Doctor Jeffries' example!"
The clouds rolled in glittering masses beneath us. The balloon
threw large shadows on this heap of clouds, and was surrounded as
by an aureola. The thunder rumbled below the car. All this was
terrifying.
"Let us descend!" I cried.
"Descend, when the sun is up there, waiting for us? Out with more
bags!"
And more than fifty pounds of ballast were cast over.
At a height of three thousand five hundred yards we remained
stationary.
The unknown talked unceasingly. I was in a state of complete
prostration, while he seemed to be in his element.
"With a good wind, we shall go far," he cried. "In the Antilles
there are currents of air which have a speed of a hundred leagues
an hour. When Napoleon was crowned, Garnerin sent up a balloon
with coloured lamps, at eleven o'clock at night. The wind was
blowing north-north-west. The next morning, at daybreak, the
inhabitants of Rome greeted its passage over the dome of St.
Peter's. We shall go farther and higher!"
I scarcely heard him. Everything whirled around me. An opening
appeared in the clouds.
"See that city," said the unknown. "It is Spires!"
I leaned over the car and perceived a small blackish mass. It was
Spires. The Rhine, which is so large, seemed an unrolled ribbon.
The sky was a deep blue over our heads. The birds had long
abandoned us, for in that rarefied air they could not have flown.
We were alone in space, and I in presence of this unknown!
"It is useless for you to know whither I am leading you," he
said, as he threw the compass among the clouds. "Ah! a fall is a
grand thing! You know that but few victims of ballooning are to
be reckoned, from Pilâtre des Rosiers to Lieutenant Gale, and
that the accidents have always been the result of imprudence.
Pilâtre des Rosiers set out with Romain of Boulogne, on the 13th
of June, 1785. To his gas balloon he had affixed a Montgolfier
apparatus of hot air, so as to dispense, no doubt, with the
necessity of losing gas or throwing out ballast. It was putting a
torch under a powder-barrel. When they had ascended four hundred
yards, and were taken by opposing winds, they were driven over
the open sea. Pilâtre, in order to descend, essayed to open the
valve, but the valve-cord became entangled in the balloon, and
tore it so badly that it became empty in an instant. It fell upon
the Montgolfier apparatus, overturned it, and dragged down the
unfortunates, who were soon shattered to pieces! It is frightful,
is it not?"
I could only reply, "For pity's sake, let us descend!"
The clouds gathered around us on every side, and dreadful
detonations, which reverberated in the cavity of the balloon,
took place beneath us.
"You provoke me," cried the unknown, "and you shall no longer
know whether we are rising or falling!"
The barometer went the way of the compass, accompanied by several
more bags of sand. We must have been 5000 yards high. Some
icicles had already attached themselves to the sides of the car,
and a kind of fine snow seemed to penetrate to my very bones.
Meanwhile a frightful tempest was raging under us, but we were
above it.
"Do not be afraid," said the unknown. "It is only the imprudent
who are lost. Olivari, who perished at Orleans, rose in a paper
'Montgolfier;' his car, suspended below the chafing-dish, and
ballasted with combustible materials, caught fire; Olivari fell,
and was killed! Mosment rose, at Lille, on a light tray; an
oscillation disturbed his equilibrium; Mosment fell, and was
killed! Bittorf, at Mannheim, saw his balloon catch fire in the
air; and he, too, fell, and was killed! Harris rose in a badly
constructed balloon, the valve of which was too large and would
not shut; Harris fell, and was killed! Sadler, deprived of
ballast by his long sojourn in the air, was dragged over the town
of Boston and dashed against the chimneys; Sadler fell, and was
killed! Cokling descended with a convex parachute which he
pretended to have perfected; Cokling fell, and was killed! Well,
I love them, these victims of their own imprudence, and I shall
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