In an epoch so remote that it is beyond all tradition and does not feature in any history, some Greek navigators got lost at sea. Their primitive ship contained within its flanks twenty-four men, all brothers, and their twenty-four wives. After having been tossed by the waves for a long time, it broke up on rocks and the shipwreck victims, having lost all hope of ever seeing their homeland again, settled in the country, which was immense and unpopulated.
At first they lived communally, but after a number of years the colony had acquired such a great development that every family resolved to make the conquest of that new land and each create a distinct kingdom. As there were twenty-four families there were twenty-four kingdoms, and, in consequence, twenty-four sovereigns. Each of them took for a name one of the twenty-four letters of the alphabet of their original language, in order to be recognized in the future if, by chance, other people arrived in the country, because they wanted to remain united. Hence, the name of Alphabetia was given to that new country.
We have no intention of recounting the history of those twenty-four kingdoms; we shall only acquaint you with that of King Beta, in whose realm the events we are about to describe happened.19
Let us say right away that it bore no resemblance to any of those we know. It was still in the infancy that is the golden age of peoples. Civilization had not corrupted it; people there still believed in supernatural things, in enchanters, fays and sorcerers.
Yes, in the realm of King Beta, there were fays, enchanters and sorcerers, or, at least, all the misadventures that happened to you and could not be explained were attributed to those beings. Thus, for example, when someone did not succeed in an enterprise, or when a harvest was poor, it was said that a fay wanted to harm you or than an enchanter was your enemy.
King Beta, called thus because he had chosen for a name the second letter of the Greek alphabet, was not an imbecile; he maintained those ideas in the mind of his people in order to keep them under his thumb. Whatever the belief might be, when people have faith they are easy to direct; it is by their faith that they are led. Furthermore, by virtue of imposing them on his subjects, the king believed in those invisible beings and occult powers himself, and no one could have taken away from him the idea that a fay—a benevolent fay—had presided over the birth of his daughter in giving her beauty, mildness, intelligence and grace: in a word, all the qualities that are generally the prerogative of princesses.
Queen Betasse further exaggerated the naïve beliefs of her royal spouse, but Princess Betinette, his daughter, was less superstitious. She had a positive mind that liked to take account of everything and for which, in consequence, fays and enchanters did not exist. That incredulity desolated the king, and, in order to oppose it he had often begged his great astrologer, Remplume, to work some magic, but the latter, who was nothing but an ass, to put it in three letters, had never been able to do it.
One day, as the royal family and the astrologer were strolling in the gardens of the palace, they perceived a black dot in the air, which was advancing slowly and visibly growing.
“What’s that?” said the king, turning to Remplume.
“My word, Sire, I don’t know. It’s the first time I’ve seen such a phenomenon.”
“Go fetch your telescope, and hurry.”
Remplume drew away as rapidly as his aged legs would permit, and came back with his instrument, which he immediately aimed at the unknown object.
“Well,” said the king.
“It’s a star! A new star!”
“A star!” cried the princess, immediately, bursting into laughter. “A black star!”
“My word, it’s not a star, it’s a world,” said Remplume.
The balloon—for, as you strongly suspected, it was a balloon—came down quite rapidly.
“Let me see,” said Princess Betinette, taking the astrologer’s telescope. “Yes, it’s a world, a peculiar world that is approaching ours. It’s very curious. And furthermore, it’s inhabited—at least, I can see an animate being in a little basket suspended under the sphere, who gives the impression of conducting it.”
King Beta, wonderstruck, took the telescope in his turn.
“Indeed, it is a world that is coming to meet ours. Well, Remplume, my friend, explain that to us.”
“That’s easy,” said the astrologer. “The individual up there is an antisocial person who does a great deal of harm on the ground. He’s probably an enchanter who has been condemned to live alone on a world expressly created for him, in order that he can’t hurt anybody.”
“But he’s heading directly here,” said the king, who had not quit the telescope. “In a few minutes he’ll come down in the gardens. If, as you say, he’s a malevolent individual, I don’t want him to corrupt my people, and the first thing to do is to make sure of his person. Go inform my guards.”
“Why do that, Father?” said Princess Betinette. “Isn’t it better to practice generous hospitality? What Remplume has said to you about that world and its inhabitant is only a supposition. Moreover, that world is very small; might it not rather be a flying machine directed by a scholar? Before deciding anything, it would be wiser and more appropriate to give him a good welcome and question him.”
“In fact,” said the king, “my daughter is right. In any case, what do we have to fear? He’s alone, and we’ll be able to reckon with him quickly if he gives evidence of the slightest hostility.”
During that brief conversation, the balloon completed its precise descent into the royal garden. It was then evident that the unknown world was only an empty sphere, which deflated when it touched the ground, and that the aeronaut did not have the malevolent appearance suggested by Remplume. On the contrary, he apologized right away for the slight damage that he had done and asked for permission to store in a safe place his instruments and his balloon, which he had just folded up carefully.
Reassured by his benevolent appearance, the king hastened to defer to his desire, and invited him to go into the palace with him, which the aeronaut accepted to do with alacrity.
II. In which the engineer Vatenlair makes the acquaintance of King Beta, and also Princess Betinette.
The aeronaut was a man of about thirty, with an agreeable face that denoted intelligence. He was a distinguished engineer who, after ardent scientific studies, had devoted himself specifically to the direction of balloons. Very audacious, he had made several ascensions of long duration, and the latest one had had for its objective the discovery of the pole, but contrary currents had brought it to the realm of King Beta, which was completely unknown to him. His name was Vatenlair and he was an associate member of all the scientific academies in the world.
As he took him to his palace, the king said to him: “I hope that you won’t refuse to be my guest for a few days, and that you’ll be good enough to recount your adventures to me. We rarely have the opportunity to see strangers and we’re glad to give them a good welcome.
At that moment, Remplume pulled a face and whispered to the king: “You’re going too far, Sire; you don’t know him.”
“That’s my concern,” said the king. “Go up to your observatory and keep your reflections to yourself. Shouldn’t you have announced the advent of this stranger to me?”
Remplume was already going away, piteously, when the king called him back. “At the same time, have the blue room prepared, and give the order for all the traveler’s baggage to be installed there.”
Having arrived on the threshold of the palace, the royal family left the stranger to occupy himself with his installation and withdrew to their apartments. For his part, the aeronaut, preceded by a valet, went to the room that had been prepared for him, put away all the instruments that his nacelle had contained, and put on a costume more appropriate than the one he wore while traveling.
As he finished dressing, someone came to inform him that the king would give him an audience.
The king! So he was in the home of the king of the country! He looked at his costume:
his jacket was very casual, but after all, he had no other; he excused himself.
The throne room was situated on the first floor of the palace. It was an ordinary drawing room—very ordinary, in fact, for King Beta did not like ostentation. The furniture consisted of chairs and armchairs upholstered in tapestry, the work of Queen Betasse and Princess Betinette. As for the throne, it merits particular mention: it was a very large armchair, the back of which rose a long way into the air and supported a sort of awning, just like the pulpits of our churches. The seat was covered with drapes that fell all the way to the floor and hid a little cupboard in which the king put his crown—for King Beta only gave audiences with the crown on his head; he said that the ornament in question was the unique sign of royalty, that without a crown, a king was only a man like any other, and nothing distinguished him from his subjects. When he wanted to retain his incognito, he left his crown in the palace, and if anyone encountered him they had no need to salute him.
In fact, he had several crowns, which he changed in accordance with the ceremonies over which he was presiding and the importance of the people he was receiving. Firstly, there was the great crown ornamented with precious stones, for solemn audiences; then there was the half-crown, not as tall, for minor receptions; and finally, the ordinary crown, a simple gold circlet, for intimacy. Everyone in the realm knew that if you said that the king had received you in his gold circlet, you were considered to be his favorite. It was that one that the king put on his head to receive the aeronaut. Remplume, who was jealous by nature, tried to oppose it, under the pretext that a stranger did not merit that favor, but Princess Betinette, who had acquired a sudden sympathy for the stranger, had persuaded her father not to follow the astrologer’s advice.
When the aeronaut was introduced into the audience hall he found King Beta on his throne, with his wife, Queen Betasse, to his right and his daughter, Princess Betinette, to his left. Remplume was sitting in a corner on a stool.
“I permit you to sit down, for you must be tired,” said the king. “What is your name, and who are you?”
“My name is Vatenlair, and I’m an engineer,” said the aeronaut.
The brevity of that reply shocked Remplume, who combined the function of astrologer with that of Head of Protocol. He approached Vatenlair and said to him: “You are in the presence of King Beta, Queen Betasse and Princess Betinette; you ought to be more respectful; don’t forget that.”
“And don’t you forget that I’m wearing my gold circlet,” said the king, annoyed by Remplume’s observation. The latter went back to his stool.
“And by what hazard do you find yourself in our country?” the king went on.
“Hazard is the word,” replied Vatenlair, “for your country is unknown to me and I didn’t expect to land here.”
Remplume thought that he ought to intervene again. “When one speaks to a Majesty, one employs the third person,” he said to Vatenlair.
King Beta frowned. He stood up, opened the little cupboard under his seat, deposited the gold circlet therein and sat down again.
“Now I’ve taken off the sign of power, Remplume, you no longer have anything to do here. Give me the pleasure of leaving us in peace.”
Very vexed, Remplume withdrew, murmuring: “What a sovereign! No prestige! No prestige!”
“Now let’s talk,” said the king. “You know who I am, I know who you are, but I don’t know your adventures yet. Who is the enchanter who led you to my Estates? Who is the fay who directed you toward us?”
The king’s imagery made Vatenlair smile. “That fay is science,” he said, “and the enchanter is the wind. We haven’t yet entirely mastered the direction of balloons, and they carry you somewhat at adventure.”
“Balloons?” said the king.
“Balloons?” said the queen.
“Balloons?” said the princess.
Vatenlair understood immediately that balloons were unknown in King Beta’s realm, and started to explain the theory of the flying machine. That was not very easy, for the ignorance of his listeners was considerable. As the explanation went on, interruptions succeeded one another and the responses were not always understood, Vatenlair recommenced then, but without any more result. In order to put an end to it, King Beta proposed bringing Remplume back, but Princess Betinette opposed it.
“There’s no point,” she said. “He’s even more ignorant than we are. But if you wish, Father, during his stay with us, Monsieur Vatenlair can give me a few notions of things we don’t know. I’m intelligent, and when I’ve understood, I’ll enable you to understand in my turn.”
“I’m at your orders, Princess,” said Vatenlair, “but I ought to warn you that you have a great deal to learn: mathematics, physics, chemistry, mechanics...”
“Who are all those fays?” interjected the king.
“They’re fays, as you say, for they produce effects that seem supernatural; but will you permit me, Sire, to ask you a question?”
“Speak!”
“You’ve pronounced the words enchanter and fay several times: are those images, or do you really believe in the existence of those imaginary beings?”
“Imaginary?” said the king. “”But our land is full of them; nothing happens without their intermediation, and during the time that you stay here, it will be easy for you to perceive them.”
“I confess that I’ll be enchanted,” said Vatenlair, emphasizing the word, “And if a little fay would like to attach herself to me, I’d be very grateful.”
Princess Betinette blushed; perhaps she had understood what the aeronaut meant.
III. In which Remplume begins to become jealous of the engineer and the latter amazes the king with a box of matches.
Princess Betinette was a pretty young woman twenty years of age, blonde, with beautiful dark eyes, a slender figure and an intelligent physiognomy. Many a time she had been remarked by the princes of neighboring States, who had asked for her hand, but with her independent character, she only wanted to marry a man that she loved, and thus far, no one had been able to touch her heart. In vain the king had proposed one of his numerous cousins to her: Prince Epsilon, Prince Lambda, and even Prince Omega, who was renowned for his beauty; she had always refused, alleging that each of them had not been destined or her by the fays who had presided over her birth. King Beta inclined before the will of the fays, and did not ask Betinette how she came to know that will.
Every morning, Vatenlair gave her lessons of every kind, which interested her greatly, and soon put her in a state to comprehend the most complicated explanations of her professor. Queen Betasse attended these scientific lecturers; she generally went to sleep at the first words, but the master and the pupil did not perceive that. King Beta was delighted with his guest, and wanted absolutely to keep him close at hand; he had even talked about giving him Remplume’s functions, the latter having become increasingly disagreeable, but Vatenlair did not care for that servitude and preferred to keep his liberty. However, he did not dissimulate that it was a means for him not to quit his pupil, to whom he was becoming increasingly attached; he discovered a more tender sentiment for her than the one that a professor ought to have. He even sensed that the young woman experienced something similar for him, without being aware of it, but she was a princess, what hope could a poor engineer like him have?
Thus far, he had not quit the king’s palace. One day, after lunch, the latter proposed a little stroll around the city, for, after all, he ought at least to see the capital of his sovereign and friend.
That city, which was named Betaville after its founder, was not opulent. There were no superb monuments to be seen there, no carefully maintained parks, remarkable edifices or exactly aligned highways. It was a town, but an immense town, neat and orderly, which denoted the ease of its inhabitants. Every house was surrounded by a garden, every garden by living hedges, almost always covered in flowers. Nature bore all the expense of that capital ornamentation. Vatenlair could have believed that he was i
n a Parisian suburb.
They strolled thus until nightfall; it was then that the engineer perceived that the city was only illuminated by oil-lamps. He made that observation to the king.
“But how do you expect it to be illuminated?” said the king. “We have no lighting here except oil. That’s sufficiently bright indoors. I admit that in the streets it’s a little dull, but what can one do? Oh, if our fays wished...but it’s in vain that I’ve invoked them, none has wanted to respond to my desire.”
“But it would be very easy.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that if you give me the necessary money, in a short time, people in your capital will be able to see as clearly by night as by day.”
“And you could do that?”
“Certainly.”
“And you say that you’re not an enchanter?”
“Only an engineer.”
“Well, I’ll take you at your word. You won’t lack the money; go ahead.”
“You’re giving me carte blanche?”
“I’ll give you anything you wish. but I want to know what you’re going to do!”
“First, I’m going to construct a gas factory; then I’ll channel it to all the streets—that will take time, but we’ll begin with the principal arteries, especially your palace.”
“What! My palace too!”
“Above all.”
“And this gas is the same one that you told me was in your balloon?”
“The same one.”
“I don’t understand at all.”
“What does it matter, if you profit from it?”
While chatting thus, they had returned to the palace, where Queen Betasse, troubled by their absence, received them with joy, because she believed that some misfortune had overtaken them.
Meanwhile, Remplume, seeing the increasing favor of Vatenlair, had acquired an aversion to him. Before the aeronaut’s arrival, he had been incessantly in the company of the king, who had only seen through his eyes; he had given lessons in astronomy to Princess Betinette—who scarcely listened to them, it is true, but who had considered him to be the foremost scholar in the realm. He had told Queen Betasse’s fortune; she believed in the power of cards and the virtue of coffee grounds. Now he was completely neglected, like an object that has ceased to please.
Journey to the Isles of Atlantis and Other Fanciful Excursions Page 6