by Emile Calvet
The dinner ran its course amid that mild gaiety of which the school of Epicurus has signaled the influence in its feasts.
The long summer twilight, which had been lighting the horizon for some time, was invaded in its turn by the shades of night.
“Messieurs,” said Herber, “the weather is mild and invites us to take a walk. I propose that we go down to the river. The quays are nowadays the most animated and most elegant meeting place in the city.
The proposal was greeted with enthusiasm.
“As for us,” said Madame Herber, darting a tender glance at her daughter, whose graceful head, invaded by drowsiness, was resting on her bosom, “we’ll go back to the apartment.”
The guests got up and, after bidding farewell to the mistress of the house, went out into the plaza, resplendent with the blaze of electric light and busy with the bustle of a compact crowd of pedestrians.
XIII. An Old Memory
They traversed the immense square and went into an avenue sparkling with light and animated by a brilliant crowd. A double current bore the pedestrians on one side toward the central plaza, and on the other toward the river.
A large number of city-dwellers were sitting on large benches with inclined backs, covered by the crowns of the trees, while others, of a more emphatic Epicurean humor, had installed themselves in front of cafés, in which gold, mirrors and bright wallpaper were bathed by the ardent effluvia of electric lights.
In a matter of minutes, they reached the river. The immense causeway, throughout its extent, was furrowed by four rows of luminous globes, which illuminated in all its depth the majestic vault of the great trees. The same magical spectacle was faithfully reproduced on the right bank, separated by an expanse of water six hundred meters broad.
The animation was at its maximum here, and the quay appeared to be the favorite promenade of the Parisians.
For an hour, the schoolmaster and his guests walked through an elegant and active host. Continuing their path, it did not take them long to find themselves in a part of the quay that was not as busy, where a relative calm reigned.
Suddenly, Gédéon, who was scanning the river with his gaze, gripped the doctor’s arm feverishly.
The latter turned his head in the direction in which his nephew was pointing. “Notre-Dame!” he said, emotionally.
Terrier shivered and drew nearer to his companions. “Let us salute,” he said, “the only acquaintance that we have yet encountered in this marvelous world.”
And they bowed toward the somber mass of the old basilica, which rose up from the bosom of the waters, isolated and silent.
The two towers stood out sharply against the sky, illuminated by pale moonlight, but the profile of the high wall bore the profound imprint of the erosion of past centuries.
“You’re rendering pious homage, Messieurs, to the most ancient of our monuments,” said Herber. “For my part, I’m surprised to the highest degree when I think that the marvelous work in question, gigantic for its era, could have been built more than fifteen centuries ago, when, according to all indications, humankind was in a state of incontestable impotence and inferiority.”
Herber and his friends continued their walk, along the river bank. Still agitated by the sudden appearance of the old cathedral, the travelers remained silent.
“Do you realize,” said Gédéon, coming to a halt, “that we now have an excellent reference-point for superimposing the old map of Paris on the new city?” Without paying any heed to the irritated expressions of his two traveling-companions, who were justly alarmed by the fit of stupidity, he continued: “It’s probable—certain, even—that at this moment we’re between the Quai des Grand-Augustins and the Boulevard Saint-Germain, opposite the Cité, which has disappeared under the water.” With assurance, he added: “The quai on the right bank must be beyond Les Halles.”
Herber looked at the young man in surprise. “You appear to know ancient Paris astonishingly well, my young friend,” he said, marveling at such precision.
Convinced by that reflection, and by the consternation on the faces of the two scientists, that he had just committed a grave imprudence, Gédéon, trying to get out of the awkward situation in which he found himself, made matters worse. “I confess, my dear Master,” he stammered, effortfully, “that few antiquaries know old Paris as well as me.” Before the fiery gaze of his uncle, the young man lost his head completely. “I should have said like us,” he added, designating the doctor and the physicist, without knowing what he was doing or saying.
“Messieurs,” the schoolmaster said, laughing, “I disapprove of your discretion. Why hide the fact that in addition to your professions, distinguished as they are, you have devoted yourselves to the study of ancient times, and in particular, it seems, to that of old Paris?”
“It’s true, my dear host,” Antius replied, no longer able to beat a retreat, “that we have a fairly precise knowledge of the old Cité, having found ourselves in conditions very favorable for studying it, but we could not suppose that the detail had any interest for you.”
“It has a very great interest for me and for everyone,” the schoolmaster replied, swiftly. “Everything that concerns the history of the city is full of interest for its inhabitants. For one thing, Doctor, I’m convinced that your investigations and those of your honorable colleague Monsieur Terrier must have been especially devoted to the scientific and industrial state of old French society.”
“Yes,” said Antius, burning his ships, “my friend and I have studied the 19th century in depth, not only from the intellectual viewpoint, but also its political, social and philosophical aspects.”
“I understand all the interest and also all the merit of your archeological labors, and I regret not being able, like you, to imagine old Paris at an interval of ten centuries.”
“The vision is not without its melancholy aspects,” the physicist thought aloud, emotional at thought of being so close to his old laboratory, now drowned in the river.
“I’m truly amazed,” Herber went on, “for in general, we have only vague ideas about the old Ciité and its successive transformation.”
The walkers continued to go along the Seine. They soon found themselves level with the old cathedral. Somber and silent in the middle of the stream, isolated on an islet supported by magnificent works of art, the ruined basilica was the sole item of wreckage that survived of the Cité.
The strangers searched in vain upriver for the Île Saint-Louis, but it had disappeared beneath the waters, whose surface, silvered by the moon, extended as far as the eye could see.
“I’m surprised,” said Antius, involuntarily emotional, “that the ancient cradle of the capital wasn’t saved.”
“It’s certain, Doctor,” Herber replied, “that it was only after having exhausted every possible plan and means capable of protecting it that it was decided to annihilate the ground that bore the first huts of the Lutecians, of whom we conserve a pious memory, but it was necessary to go on. All the public edifices and houses of the quarter were falling into ruin, and the suppression of the two islands, which gave a considerable impetus to the development of the bed of the Seine, demanded by everyone, was accepted. It marked the commencement of the immense endeavors pursued almost simultaneously on the two banks.” He addressed himself to Gédéon, to add: “But, my young antiquary, have you conserved an exact memory of all the monuments that once ornamented the Île de la Cité?”
“Yes, my dear Master,” said the young man. And he embarked on such a precise and detailed description of that part of the old city that the schoolmaster could not contain his astonishment.
Antius prudently put an end to that prolixity, unnecessary at best, by attacking the right bank in his turn and talking about the Louvre and the Tuileries, with a moderation of which archeologists do not always give proof.
They had been retracing their steps for a few moments when the physicist stopped.
“A hundred meters from here,” he exclaimed, pointing to a vague a
rea of the river, “One could contemplate at one time the glided slices of the cupola of the Institut.” Bitterly, he added: “The Académie des Sciences has had its day, then?”
“The Académie des Sciences is the honor of the nation,” Herber declared, solemnly, “for which the door opens wide its battens. The palace that was constructed a century ago to shelter the five Académies whose ensemble constitutes the Institut de France is the most magnificent in the city. I’m even counting on taking you to next Thursday’s grand session, which will be of great interest, because the celebrated mathematician Ho-wey-hu will be revealing a great invention on which he has been working for thirty years in the most profound secrecy, and which, according to rumor, is destined to change the face of the world.”
“The scientist’s name appears to indicate an Oceanian origin,” observed Antius.
“Yes, Ho-wey-hu was born in Honolulu and is the honorary president of the Académie des Sciences of that opulent city. I have the honor of counting him among my best friends, and it is thanks to our acquaintance that I will be able to obtain four seats, for the president, by reason of the solemnity of the occasion, has been besieged by demands signed with the most illustrious names in the five continents. The telegraphic companies have already made arrangements for the record to be printed, posted up and distributed throughout the entire world that same evening. Because of the impenetrable secrecy in which the inventor has carried out his research, all the scientific bodies are waiting impatient for the official transcript of the session.”
The stranger testified to their host all the gratitude that this new proof of sympathy inspired in them.
The two scientists were now almost reassured with regard to the consequences of their young companion’s untimely reflection. The flattering assumption of the schoolmaster—who, by virtue of the precision and certainty of their descriptions placed them above the most celebrated members of the Society of Antiquaries—had averted all peril for the moment. In addition, the pleasure they had were able to give the generous host who had welcomed them was an immeasurable source of satisfaction for them.
The state of scientific knowledge in the 19th century and the organization of the ancient Institut became the theme of a conversation, and the doctor and the physicist were able, in turn, to excite the schoolmaster’s attention to the highest degree.
“Messieurs,” he said, suddenly, “I should like to ask you for a favor.”
“Master,” Antius replied, “to the fullness of our abilities, we are entirely at your disposal, without any hope of ever repaying your kindness toward us.”
“The perfect knowledge you have of the old world has amazed me so much and caused me so much pleasure that I would consider it egotistical to be the only one to profit from your erudition.”
“What do we need to do. my dear colleague?” asked Terrier.
“I would be very happy if, tomorrow, at our customary Monday meeting, in the school theater, before our regulars and a few intimates of the Institut that I will invite especially, you would each offer a description of the old society from the scientific, industrial, political and social viewpoints. The entire quarter will certainly appreciate as it deserves the honor reserved for the Museum Plaza School.”
“We are entirely at your disposal,” said the two scientists, in unison.
“Thank you. Tomorrow, you can occupy yourselves entirely in drawing up the program.”
The travelers had crossed the entire length of the broad avenue that had led them to he river. The crossed the square in a straight line. Only a few strollers were abroad now.
“In spite of the dazzle the marvels of the city have caused me,” said Antius, turning toward his host, “I’ve made one observation whose negative character intrigues me to the highest degree.”
“What’s that, Doctor?”
“I haven’t yet seen a single agent of the authority.”
“I don’t know what you mean by that word.”
“I’ll explain clearly. There is doubtless here, as everywhere, a group of people charged with watching over the security of their fellow citizens.”
“Everyone is responsible for that, even though it is a perfect sinecure. You will not observe any disorder or violence here, for our schools strive to make everyone an educated, honest and well brought-up individual. In any case, from the viewpoint of order and security, the law, reduced to simple, brief and precise formulas, only contains one article: The inhabitants of each section of the public highway are responsible for any illegal act that might be committee there.
“I repeat, however, that I’ve never heard mention of any crime whatsoever against persons or property. Independent of the wellbeing spread in torrents by the progress of science, a condition that distances humans from misery, the active and deadly source of evil, moral education puts them on guard against their own passions. A child soon understands that happiness lies in the practice of the duties dictated by conscience, duties summarized in self-respect, the love of one’s fellows and gratitude to the supreme power, which, in giving one intelligence, has ornamented one with its own substance.”
At this moment, the strollers went into the main courtyard of the school.
“Before leaving you, Messieurs,” said the schoolmaster, “I must show you around your new abode.” And, preceding the travelers, he guided them to the extremity of the left wing, which was opposite the one inhabited by himself and his family.
XIV. Furniture and Wall-Decorations
The schoolmaster climbed an elegant staircase in pink marble, pushed open a thick door that swung silently on its hinges, and set his hand on an ivory lever designed to complete an electric circuit. Suddenly, several frosted globes lit up simultaneously in the corridor.
Following their host, the travelers climbed a broad staircase that went up at a gentle slope to a landing covered with a thick carpet of vegetable carpet, on to which opened three tall doors lined with green velvet, situated a few paces apart.
Herber headed toward the one facing him.
“This is your room, Doctor,” he said to Antius, “And as those of those Messieurs are almost identical, the examination of this one will inform your companions sufficiently.”
So saying, he opened both battens at the same time.
The strangers took a step forward, and remained momentarily nailed to the spot by admiration.
Fixed in the middle of a hemispherical vault, painted with infinite artistry and representing a clear sky decorated with a few white clouds that appeared to be raised in relief, a polished globe was emitting a gentle yellow light into a room of incomparable splendor.
At the back, as high as a cathedral porch, stood a sculpted ebony bed, whose spiral columns supported a dome enriched by allegorical figures in relief, from which waves of Havana satin hung down, supported by enormous fringes.
A carpet with a white background decorated with blue and pink flowers extended all the way to the walls. A quilted divan large enough to permit an entire family to rest on it at the same time occupied the left hand side. Various dressers ornamented with bas-reliefs, carved with a rare perfection, were disposed against the other walls, scarcely leaving enough space for half a dozen flared armchairs, the sight of which would have plunged a paralytic into ecstasy.
The glass in the windows, cut by long curtains of bright cloth, was composed of single sheets, and the walls, covered with cast landscapes obtained by photopainting, opened infinite horizons to the startled eye.
Over a green marble fireplace, whose mantelpiece supported an electric clock and a host of art-works, rose a mirror of extraordinary dimensions, the top of which was integrated with the moldings of the ceiling. Opposite, a massive set of bookshelves, whose shelves were protected by sheets of crystal so transparent that one hardly noticed their presence, offered several rows of rare books, whose sumptuous and sparkling bindings seemed to summon the gaze. Fixed between the two windows was a panoply of scientific instruments, in which the expert eye of the
physicist was able to recognize, even though their form had changed significantly, a maximum/minimum thermometer, an improved barometer, a hygrometer and an exceedingly complicated table of astronomical phenomena corresponding to each day.
Through the gap in the curtains of a glazed panel in a door that opened at one of the corners of the room, the travelers were able to distinguish a white marvel fountain whose massive gold taps could pour out torrents of water at various temperatures. A porphyry bath was set alongside it.
The excessive character of the splendor that reigned in the place preoccupied Antius to such a degree that his host noticed it.
“Has anything been forgotten or any mistake been made in your installation, Doctor?” he asked, anxiously.
“No, truly, from every point of view we are overwhelmed by wellbeing, but I was reflecting on a subject more wide-raging than that of our enthronement in this marvelous apartment. I was wondering if many citizens could afford the price of sculpted items of furniture similar to those we have before our eyes—a price that is doubtless formidable, for, by virtue of the profusion and perfection of the sculptures, every room must have absorbed the entire existence of a skilled workman.”
“My dear guest,” the schoolmaster replied, “everything that surrounds us is the conquest of progress rather than that of fortune—and eminently moral conquest, since it works to everyone’s advantage.
“It’s certain that in the 19th, or even the 20th, century an opulent collector would have been able, strictly speaking, to create a room almost exactly the same as this one, but the great majority of citizens could not, without being accused of madness, dream of the possession of furniture as rich as the items that ornament all houses today—the price of which is very modest, for it is sufficient to throw a few handfuls of wood-pulp into an appropriate mold to obtain admirable panels, which, after a few hours, while preserving a remarkable lightness, have the solidity of tempered steel.