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Manuscript, Archives,
and Rare Book Library
in the
tly been
proposed
e. The
I worth
asbestos
and any
vein far
twenty
tance of
iers of a
ke many
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ng spun
! Greek,
ilnt able,
iral was
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ee from
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aa oiwarv vors, icauxiv iiui*u.ii£ yii yyoiHci , nvOd " and
"rock-beaters^" botli of wKicH are ve^SHhflaFWro^wft:* In the
same vein there appears to be an inexhaustible quantity of ordinary
asbestos, such as is used for covering steam-pipes, etc._ The true
amianthus is found in veins from one to four feet in thickness, and
can be pulled out with the naked hands in tufts upwards of three feet
in length.
Talc is also found in the same neighbourhood in immense
quantities, and might be used for making fire-bricks and melting-pots
mixed with asbestos, and, no doubt, when the Mojave country is
opened up by the construction of the proposed Salt Lake City and Los
Angeles Railway, the mineral resources of this hitherto unknown
region will be fully developed.
EMORY UNIVERSITY
JOHNNY (aged six).—What are these little things, pa ?
Fond Parent (grasping the opportunity for instructing his
youthful heir).—Those, my son, are toadstools. They
JOHNNY (of a practical turn of mind, interrupting).—And is
that "all the little toads have to sit on ? (Collapse of Fond Parent.)
;rTFiis is on a very small scale," as the chemist remarked when he
was weighing out a grain
cvr si rv("innnt;.
Two eminent doctors, of Guy's Hospital, have been investigating
the properties of saccharin, with a view of determining whether
its use interferes, as has been stated, with the digestive pro¬
cesses. The result of their investigations is diametrically opposed to
the cdnfdSusions of the French experimenters. They find that saccharin
is quite innocuous when taken in quantities largely exceeding what
would be taken in any ordinary dietary, and that it may be taken for
a very considerable period without interfering with the digestive or any
other function.
A new explosive, known as "Securite," has been discovered by an
eminent German chemist. It will have special value for use in
" fiery " mines, the speciality of the new product being that the charge
explodes without flame. In appearance, securite is a granulated
powder, light yellow in colour, and having an odour not unlike that of
bitter almonds. It cannot be ignited by friction or jar, a most important
point in reference to transport and storage. It is exploded by means of
,a percussion cap of fulminate of mercury. The new explosive is being
manufactured in large quantities in Germany, and it is anticipated
that it will shortly be made in this country also.
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Observations made by M. Rafford, a member of the Societe d'Horti- ]
culture at Limoges, show that a castor-oil plant having been placed in a, i
room infested with flies, they disappeared as by enchantment. Wishing to :
find the cause, he soon found under the castor-oil plant a number of dead I
flies, and a large number of bodies had remained clinging to the under
! surface of the leaves. It would, therefore, appear that the leaves of the [
i castor-oil plant gave out an essential oil, or some toxic principle which j
! possesses very strong insecticide qualities. Castor-oil plants are in France
: very much used as ornamental plants in rooms, as they resist very well j
variations of atmosphere and temperature. As the castor-oil plant is very |
much grown and cultivated in all gardens, the Journal d'Agriculture points i
! out that it would be worth while to try decorations of the leaves to destroy
; green flies and other insects which in summer are so destructive to plants
j and fruit trees. Anyhow, M. Rafford's observations merit that trial should
) be made of the properties of the castor-oil plant, both for the destruction I
:gf flies in dwellings and. of other troublesome insects. j
L. O. O.—1. Chloroform is a compound of carbon, hydrogen, and
chlorine, and was made from alcohol, water, and bleaching powder. It was
discovered by Souberian in 1831, and its composition was determined by
Dumas in 1834. The term "chlorine ether" was applied in 1820 to a,
mixture of chlorine and olefiant gas. Chloroform was first used as an '
anaesthetic, experimentally, by Mr. Jacob Bell, in London, in 1847, and later
in the same year by Dr. Simpson, of Edinburgh, and in 1848 was ad-
ministered by Mr. James Robinson, surgeon dentist. In 1864, a committee H
of the Royal Medical and Chirurgical Society reported that the use of
anaesthetics had in no degree increased the rate of mortality. 2. The
hydrate of chloral, as now prepared, is a white crystalline substance which, j
in contact with alkalies, separates into chloroform and prussic acid. Hence
when it comes into contact with living blood, the alkaline reaction of that
fluid effects its. decomposition, and a formation of chloroform is the result.
When taken into the mouth or injected into the blood, the chloroform set
free is given up to the blood little by little. Hence the action of chloral 1
differs from that of pure chloroform in being slow, gentle, and prolonged.
Michael Faraday, the chemist, went to Switzerland and saw
the Alps. This is how his diary records the great event:—
" We soon entered among the mountains ; they were of lime¬
stone, stratified very regularly."
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A Hint fob Tbavelleks.—A well-known German traveller, F. Jager,
in his "Sketches of Travels in Singapore, Malacca, Java" (Berlin, 1866),
describes the powder of the Pyrethrum roseum as a specific against all
noxious insects, including the troublesome mosquitoes and those which attack
collections. He says: A tincture prepared by macerating one part of the
Pyrethrum roseum in four parts of diluted alcohol, and, when diluted with
, ten times its bulk of water, applied to any part of the body, gives perfect
security against all vermin. I often passed the night in my boat on the ill-
reputed rivers of Siam without any other cover, even without the netting, and
experienced not the slightest inconvenience. The 'buzzing,' at other times
' so great a disturber of sleep, becomes a harmless tune, and, in the feeling of
security, a real cradle-song. In the chase, moistening the beard and hands
protects the hunter against flies for at least twelve hours, even in spite
of the largely-increased transpiration due to the climate. Especially
. interesting is its action on that plague of all tropical countries, the
• countless ants. Before the windows and surrounding the whole house
where I lived at Albay, on Luzon, was fastened a board six inches in width,
- on which long caravans of ants were constantly moving in all directions,
making it appear an almost uniformly black surface. A track of the powder
' several inches in width, strewed across the board, or some tincture sprinkled
. over it, proved an insurmountable barrier to these processions. The first
< who halted before it were pushed on by the crowds behind them; but, im¬
mediately on passing over, showed symptoms of narcosis, and died in a
' minute or two, and within a short time the rest left the house altogether."—
British Medical Journal. I
Mr
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41.
42.
43-
Here is a useful hint. Never in walking through Potter.
a kitchen garden be tempted to pluck and eat any
capers. Piquant and appetising as they may be
when pickled, they are, when in a raw state,
poisonous to such a degree that even to suck one
for a few seconds produces severe and protracted
irritation of the throat and tongue. This is a fact
not generally known, 1 think.
Trans-
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A FEW POPULAR DELUSIONS.
TnEEE are thousands who believe it is
healthy to rise early in the morning; whereas
it is a hygienic crime for. a man to get up
before he wants to. The desire to sleep late
in the morning is one of nature's most
emphatic intimations that more time is
needed for repairs. For a man to go
to work in the morning in a sleepy,
semi-comatose condition is simply gradual
suicide. There is another popular delusion,
that a man should stop eating while he is
yet hungry. He might as well stop breath¬
ing before his lungs are filled. Hunger is
the barometer that tells the state of the
stomach. A man is never hungry unless he
ought to eat. There is another delusion,
that night air is unhealthy—as if any one
could get anything but night air at night.
There is really no air so unhealthy as day
air bottled up and kept until night. There
has been no way discovered for preserving
air like gooseberries by bottling.
THE ALKAHEST
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THE COMPOSITION OF MAN
Fkom a chemical point of view, man is composed
of thirteen elements, of which five are gases and
eight are solids. If we consider the chemical com¬
position of a man of the average weight of a hundred
and fifty-four pounds, we will find that he is com¬
posed in large part of oxygen, which is in a state of
extreme compression. In fact, a man weighing a
hundred and fifty-four pounds contains ninety-seven
pounds of oxygen, the volume of which, at ordinary
temperature, would exceed nine hundred and eighty
cubic feet. The hydrogen is much less in quantity,
there being less than fifteen pounds, but which, in a
free state, would occupy a volume of 2,800 cubic feet.
The three other gases are nitrogen, nearly four
pounds ; chlorine, about twenty-six ounces ; and
fluorine, three and a quarter ounces. Of the solids,
carbon stands at the head of the metalloids, there
being forty-eight pounds. Next comes phosphorus,
twenty-six ounces; and sulphur, three and a quarter
ounces. The most abundant metal is calcium, more
than three pounds ; next potassium, two and a half
ounces ; sodium, two and a quarter ounces ; and
lastly, iron, one and a quarter ounces. It is need¬
less to say that the various combinations made by
these thirteen elements are almost innumerable.
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A WORD FOR BANANAS.
"7clopcedia liritannica.
!*-
The banana has a high recommendation as an
article of food because of its nutritious character.
One authority announces that one pound of this
fruit has more nutriment than three pounds of meal
or as many pounds of potatoes, while as a food it is
said to be in every sense superior to wheat bread.
The natives of the West Indies and other tropical
countries subsist largely upon them and find them,
as chemists do, a food containing a large amount
and variety of nutriment. A friend of the writer's
makes them a special and exclusive article of food
when he has work requiring considerable and
particular attention and accuracy at a time when a
regular meal and other food would weaken the It © | g
action of the mind. He finds that the banana in ^ s ^
such cases digests easily and makes no diminution t £ I
of mental concentration, while, at the same time, a H 2
the required sustenance of mind and body is b *
obtained.
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nonore ue iialzac."—UHAEEBS
The Celestials have evidently got an approxima¬
tion to the Elixir Vitse. According to a scientific
authority, the g nseng of China, a plant to which
the Chinese ascribe such remarkable virtues as the
renewing of youthful vigour, is in such demand
that the root has sold for more than ^40 an ounce.
A dreadful question was asked by a wag, namely,
whether ginseng is not pidgin English for gin
sling. But then gin sling isn't a plant, and the
most exacting publican and sinner in the Flowery
Land would not venture to sell it at such a high
rate.
BALZAC AND THE TRADESMAN.
T
Once when Balzac was snug1 between the sheets,
where a man, whatever his liabilities, has a right to
consider that he is safe from the persistent voice of
Shylock, a tradesman presented himself with an
account at the house of the great author. It was in
vain that he was told that M. de Balzac could not
be seen—that he was ill, that he was out, that he was
in bed. The sordid creature refused to budge until he
had seen the object of his solicitude. The valet, iu
despair, ventured to knock at the chamber-door, when
he was told, to his intense surprise, to bring the
visitor up.
The tradesman, already a little mollified, is
ushered into the sleeping apartment. M. de Balzac
sits up courteously in bed, makes his creditor a
charming bow, and inquires to what circumstance he rp
may attribute the pleasure of this early visit. I
Flattered by the warmth of his reception, the jour- -®-
nisseur murmurs something in which the word
"money" is alone audible. "Money, my dear
fellow?" cries the man of letters, with his broad
smile full of bonhomie, " money do you want ? Look
in the right-hand drawer of the dressing-table !"
Becoming instantly supple as a glove, the other
runs to the drawer, opens it, examines it, puts his
hand to the back—there is nothing. " Ah," says '
monsieur from the bed, "perhaps the left-hand *
drawer." Same scrutiny, same result. "Or the
middle one." Still nothing. " I must trouble you
to look under the dressing-table " (M. de Balzac is
so polite it is a pleasure to listen to him). The credi¬
tor puts his head down—no ! In this way the whole
furniture of the room is examined, and even the
chimney.
" Now," says the author, turning sternly upon the
crest-fallen tradesman, in all the majesty of a tasselled
night-cap, " if there is no money in the left-hand
drawer of the dressing-table, nor the right-hand
drawer, nor the middle drawer, nor under it, nor
under the bed, nor on the wardrobe, nor up the
chimney, how the devil do you suppose I am to give
you any P" With that he lies down flat upon his
back, and exit the creditor anathematising.
— . ——»
received tne manuscript of what was after¬
wards considered a chef d'ceuvre, the Derniere Fie,
LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS
BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL
GLASGOW AND NEW YORJK
1887
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A WORD FOR BANANAS.
- -*iclopcedia Britannica.
The banana has a high recommendation as an
article of food because of its nutritious character.
One authority announces that one pound of this \
fruit has more nutriment than three pounds of meal
or as many pounds of potatoes, while as a food it is
said to be in every sense superior to wheat bread.
The natives of the West Indies and other tropical
countries subsist largely upon them and find them,
as chemists do, a food containing a large amount
and variety of nutriment. A friend of the writer's
makes them a special and exclusive article of food
when he has work requiring considerable and
particular attention and accuracy at a time when a
regular meal and other food would weaken the !f
action of the mind. He finds that the banana in
such cases digests easily and makes no diminution't
of mental concentration, while, at the same time, 3
the required sustenance of mind and body is ie
obtained.
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1 nonore ae uaizac."—UHAELES—
The Celestials have evidently got an approxima¬
tion to the Elixir Vitae. According to a scientific
authority, the g nseng of China, a plant to which
the Chinese ascribe such remarkable virtues as the
renewing of youthful vigour, is in such demand
that the root has sold for more than ^40 an ounce.
A dreadful question was asked by a wag, namely,
whether ginseng is not pidgin English for gin
sling. But then gin sling isn't a plant, and the
| most exacting publican and sinner in the Flowery
Land would not venture to sell it at such a high
, rate.
HONORE DE BALZAC
THE ALKAHEST
OR
THE HOUSE OF CLAES
A BOOKSELLER'S BARGAIN.
A bookseller, who had heard^of Balzac as a
writer of great promise, resolved to offer him
three thousand francs for a novel, but on being
informed that he lived in an obscure part of Paris,
observed that he must really be a plebeian, and so he
should not think of offering more than two thou¬
sand. On arriving at the house he was told that
Balzac lived on the fourth storey. "Oh, in that case,"
thought the buyer, "I'll offer him fifteen hundred;"
but when he entered a poorly-furnished room, and saw
a young man soaking a two-sous roll in a glass of
water, he offered but three hundred francs, and for
this sum received the manuscript of what was after¬
wards considered a chef d'ceuvre, the Derniere Fee.
LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS
BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL
GLASGOW AND NEW YOR'K
1887
4. iuuuk;* *
On the 25th of"August, 1823, took place one of!
those distributions ^,tha, Jkhjntyoa. prwei .which
form so pleasant a feature in the social condition
of France. The Baron de Montyon, or Monthyon,
was a wealthy man, who, during the second half of
the last qentury, occupied a distinguished place in
the estimation of his countrymen ; chiefly in various
judicial capacities, in which his probity and honour
were universally admitted. He established, at
various periods of his life, no less than eight1
prizes, to be awarded to worthy recipients by the |
Acaddmie des Sciences, the Acaddmie Franqaise, [
and the Facultd de Medecine. The revolution 1
drove him to Switzerland, and then to England, |
whence he did not return to France till 1815. His
prize for virtue had been suppressed by the revolu¬
tionists ; but he took care, by his will, to remodel it
on a permanent and enlarged basis. This good
man died in 1820, at the advanced age of eighty-
seven. _____ __
TN ENGLISH. '
PERE GORIOT.
THE DUCHESSE DE
LANGEAIS.
CESAR BIROTTEAU.
EUGENE GRANDET.
COUSIN PONS.
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR.
THE TWO BROTHERS.
THE ALKAHEST.
(Others to follow.)
© s —9.
M. Pechabd has done his best to make life less
worth living than it used to be by inventing
a new chemical compound, which he calls
oxalomolybdie acid. This incongruously-named
liquid is a derivation of oxalic and malybdic acid,
and the chief point of popular interest about it
is that the acid may he used as a sensitive ink,
for the words written with it on ordinary paper
are invisible until they are exposed to sunlight,
when they develop a deep blue tint. Paper
saturated with oxalomolybdie acid becomes so
sensitised when dried in the dark that it may be
used to take a print of a photographic negative
after ten minutes' exposure to the sunlight.
Practical chemists are in fact much interested
in oxalomolybdie acid, and other uses will doubt¬
less be found for it ere long.
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
THE ALKAHEST:
or,
THE HOUSE OF CLAES.
I.
There is a house at Douai in the rue de Paris,
whose aspect, interior arrangements, and details have
preserved, to a greater degree than those of other domi¬
ciles, the characteristics of the old Flemish buildings,
so naively adapted to the patriarchal manners and
customs of that excellent land. Before describing this
house it may be well, in the interest of other writers, to
explain the necessity for such didactic preliminaries, —
since they have roused a protest from certain ignorant
and voracious readers who want emotions without
undergoing the generating process, the flower without
the seed, the child without gestation. Is Art supposed
to have higher powers than Nature ?
The events of human existence, whether public or
private, are so closely allied to architecture that the
1
2
The Alkahest.
majority of observers can reconstruct nations and in¬
dividuals, in their habits and ways of life, from the
remains of public monuments or the relics of a home.
Archaeolog}7 is to social nature what comparative anat¬
omy is to organized nature. A mosaic tells the tale of
a society, as the skeleton of an ichthyosaurus opens
up a creative epoch. All things are linked together,
and all are therefore deducible. Causes suggest effects,
effects lead back to causes. Science resuscitates even
the warts of the past ages.
Hence the keen interest inspired by an architectural
description, provided the imagination of the writer does
not distort essential facts. The mind is enabled by rigid
deduction to link it with the past; and to man, the
past is singularly like the future; tell him what has
been, and 3*011 seldom fail to show him what will be.
It is rare indeed that the picture of a locals where
lives are lived does not recall to some their dawning
hopes, to others their wasted faith. The comparison
between a present which disappoints man's secret
wishes and a future which may realize them, is an in¬
exhaustible source of sadness or of placid content.
Thus, it is almost impossible not to feel a certain
tender sensibility over a picture of Flemish life, if the ac¬
cessories are clearly given. Why so ? Perhaps, among
other forms of existence, it offers the best conclusion
to man's uncertainties. It has its social festivities, its
The Alkahest.
family ties, and the easy affluence which proves the
stability of its comfortable well-being; it does not lack
repose amounting almost to beatitude; but, above all,
it expresses the calm monotony of a frankly sensuous
happiness, where enjoyment stifles desire by anticipat¬
ing it. Whatever value a passionate soul may attach
to the tumultuous life of feeling, it never sees without
emotion the symbois of this Flemish nature, where the
throbbing^ of the heart are so well regulated that
superficial minds deny the heart's existence. The
crowd prefers the abnormal force which overflows to
that which moves with steady persistence. The world
has neither time nor patience to realize the immense
power concealed beneath an appearance of uniformity.
Therefore, to impress this multitude carried away on
the current of existence, passion, like a great artist,
is compelled to go beyond the mark, to exaggerate, as
did Michael Angelo, Bianca Capello, Mademoiselle de
la Valliere, Beethoven, and Paganini. Far-seeing minds
alone disapprove such excess, and respect only the en¬
ergy represented by a finished execution whose perfect
quiet charms superior men. The life of this essentially
thrifty people amply fulfils the conditions of happiness
which the masses desire as the lot of the average
citizen.
A refined materialism is stamped on all the habits of
Flemish life. English comfort is harsh in tone and
4
The Alkahest.
arid in color; whereas the old-fashioned Flemish inte¬
riors rejoice the eye with their mellow tints, and the
feelings with their genuine heartiness. There, work im¬
plies no weariness, and the pipe is a happy adaptation
of Neapolitan far-niente. Thence comes the peaceful
sentiment in Art (its most essential condition), pa¬
tience, and the element which renders its creations
durable, namely, conscience. Indeed, the Flemish char¬
acter lies in the two words, patience and conscience:
words which seem at first to exclude the richness of
poetic light and shade, and to make the manners and
customs of the country as flat as its vast plains, as
cold as its foggy skies. And yet it is not so. Civili¬
zation has brought her power to bear, and has modified
all things, even the effects of climate. If we observe
attentively the productions of various parts of the
globe, we are surprised to find that the prevailing tints
from the temperate zones are gray or fawn, while the
more brilliant colors belong to the products of the
hotter climates. The manners and customs of a coun¬
try must naturally conform to this law of nature.
Flanders, which in former times was essential!}'
dun-colored and monotonous in tint, learned the means
of irradiating its smoky atmosphere through its politi¬
cal vicissitudes, which brought it under the successive
dominion of Burgundy, Spain, and France, and threw
it into fraternal relations with Germany and Holland.
The Alkahest.
5
From Spain it acquired the luxury of scarlet dyes and
shimmering satins, tapestries of vigorous design, plumes,
mandolins, and courtly bearing. In exchange for its
linen and its laces, it brought from Venice that fairy
glass-ware in which wine sparkles and seems the mel¬
lower. From Austria it learned the ponderous di¬
plomacy which, to use a popular saying, takes three
steps backward to one forward; while its trade with
India poured into it the grotesque designs of China and
the marvels of Japan.
And yet, in spite of its patience in gathering such
treasures, its tenacity in parting with no possession once
gained, its endurance of all things, Flanders was con¬
sidered nothing more than tbe general storehouse of
Europe, until the day when the discovery of tobacco
brought into one smoky outline the scattered features
of its national physiognomy. Thenceforth, and not¬
withstanding the parcelling out of their territory, the
Flemings became a people homogeneous through their
pipes and beer.1
After assimilating, by constant sober regulation of
conduct, the products and the ideas of its masters and
its neighbors, this country of Flanders, by nature so
1 Flanders was parcelled into three divisions ; of which East¬
ern Flanders, capital Ghent, and Western Flanders, capital Bruges,
are two provinces of Belgium. French Flanders, capital Lille, is
the Departement du Nord of France. Douai, about twenty miles
from Lille, is the chief town gf the arrondissement du Nord.
6
The Alkahest.
tame and devoid of poetry, worked out for itself an
original existence, witli characteristic manners and cus¬
toms which hear no signs of servile imitation. Art
stripped off its ideality and produced form alone. We
ma}' seek in vain for plastic grace, the swing of corned}7,
dramatic action, musical genius, or the hold flight of
ode and epic. On the other hand, the people are fer¬
tile in discoveries, and trained to scientific discussions
which demand time and the midnight oil. All things
hear the ear-mark of temporal enjoyment. There men
look exclusively to the thing that is : their thoughts are
so scrupulously bent on supplying the wants of this life
that they have never risen, in any direction, above the
level of this present earth. The sole idea they have
ever conceived of the future is that of a thrifty, prosaic
statecraft: their revolutionary vigor came from a do¬
mestic desire to live as they liked, with their elbows
on the table, and to take their ease under the projecting
roofs of their own porches.
The consciousness of well-being and the spirit of inde¬
pendence which comes of prosperity begot in Flanders,
sooner than elsewhere, that craving for liberty which,
later, permeated all Europe. Thus the compactness of
their ideas, and the tenacity which education grafted on
their nature made the Flemish people a formidable
body of men in the defence of their rights. Among
them nothipg is half-done, — neither houses, furniture,
The Alkahest.
7
dikes, husbandly, nor revolutions ; and they hold a
monopoly of all that they undertake. The manufacture
of linen, and that of lace, a work of patient agriculture
and still more patient industry, are hereditary like their
family fortunes. If we were asked to show in human
form the purest specimen of solid stability, we could do
no better than point to a portrait of some old burgo¬
master, capable, as was proved again and again, of
dyirg in a commonplace way, and without the incite¬
ments of glory, for the welfare of his Free-town.
let we shall find a tender and poetic side to this
patriarchal life, which will come naturally to the surface
in ;he description of an ancient house which, at the
per.od when this history begins, was one of the last
in Douai to preserve the old-time characteristics of
Flemish life.
Of all the towns in the Departement du Nord, Douai
is alas, the most modernized: there the innovating
spirit has made the greatest strides, and the love of
social progress is the most diffused. There the old
ouildings are daily disappearing, and the manners and
customs of a venerable past are being rapidly obliterated.
Parisian ideas and fashions and modes of life now rule
the daj7, and soon nothing will be left of that ancient
Flemish life but the warmth of its hospitality, its tra¬
ditional Spanish courtesy, and the wealth and cleanli¬
ness of Holland. Mansions of white stone are replacing
8
The Alkahest.
the old brick buildings, and the cosy comfort of Bata-
vian interiors is fast yielding before the capricious
elegance of Parisian novelties.
The house in which the events of this history oc¬
curred stands at about the middle of the rue de Paris,
and has been known at Douai for more than two cen¬
turies as the House of Claes. The Yan Claes ycre
formerly one of the great families of craftsmenj to
whom, in various lines of production, the Netherlands
owed a commercial supremacy which it has never l<jst.
For a long period of time the Claes lived at Ghent, find
were, from generation to generation, the syndics of 'he
powerful Guild of Weavers. When the great city re¬
volted against Charles V., who tried to suppress jits
privileges, the head of the Claes family was so deeply
compromised in the rebellion that, foreseeing a catas¬
trophe and bound to share the fate of his associates, he
secretly sent wife, children, and property to France
before the Emperor invested the town. The syndic^
forebodings were justified. Together with other burgh
ers who were excluded from the capitulation, he was
hanged as a rebel, though he was, in reality, the
defender of the liberties of Ghent.
The death of Claes and his associates bore fruit.
Their needless execution cost the King of Spain the
greater part of his possessions in the Netherlands. Of
all the seed sown in the earth, the blood of martyrs
The Alkahest.
9
gives the quickest harvest. When Philip the Second,
who punished revolt through two generations, stretched
his iron sceptre over Douai, the Claes preserved their
great wealth by allying themselves in marriage with the
very noble family of Molina, whose elder branch, then
poor, thus became rich enough to buy the county of
Nourho which they had long held titularly in the king¬
dom of Leon.
At the beginning of the nineteenth century, after
vicissitudes which are of no interest to our present
purpose, the family of Claes was represented at Douai
in the person of Monsieur Balthazar Claes-Molina,
Comte de Nourho, who preferred to be called simply
Balthazar Claes. Of the immense fortune amassed by
his ancestors, who had kept in motion over a thousand
looms, there remained to him some fifteen thousand
francs a year from landed property in the arrondisse-
ment of Douai, and the house in the rue de Paris, whose
furniture in itself was a fortune. As to the family pos¬
sessions in Leon, they had been in litigation between
the Molinas of Douai and the branch of the family
which remained in Spain. The Molinas of Leon
won the domain and assumed the title of Comtes de
Nourho, though the Claes alone had a legal right to it.
But the pride of a Belgian burgher was superior to the
haughty arrogance of Castile: after the civil rights
were instituted, Balthazar Claes cast aside the ragged
10
The Alkahest.
robes of liis Spanish nobility for his more illustrious
descent from the Ghent martyr.
The patriotic sentiment was so strongly developed
in the families exiled under Charles Y. that, to the
very close of the eighteenth century, the Claes remained
faithful to the manners and customs and traditions of
their ancestors. They married into none but the purest
burgher families, and required a certain number of
aldermen and burgomasters in the pedigree of every
bride-elect before admitting her to the family. They
sought their wives in Bruges or Ghent, in Liege or in
Holland; so that the time-honored domestic customs
might be perpetuated around their hearthstones. This
social group became more and more restricted, until,
at the close of the last century, it mustered only some
seven or eight families of the parliamentary nobility,
whose manners and flowing robes of office and magiste¬
rial gravity (partly Spanish) harmonized well with the
habits of their life.
The inhabitants of Douai held the family in a reli¬
gious esteem that was well-nigh superstition. The
sturdy honesty, the untainted loyalty of the Claes, their
unfailing decorum of manners and conduct, made them
the objects of a reverence which found expression in
the name, — the House of Claes. The whole spirit of
ancient Flanders breathed in that mansion, which af¬
forded to the lovers of burgher antiquities a type of the
The Alkahest.
11
modest houses which the wealthy craftsmen of the
Middle Ages constructed for their homes.
The chief ornament of the facade was an oaken door,
in two sections, studded with nails driven in the pat¬
tern of a quincunx, in the centre of which the Claes
pride had carved a pair of shuttles. The recess of the
doorway, which was built of freestone, was topped by
a pointed arch bearing a little shrine surmounted by a
cross, in which was a statuette of Sainte-Genevieve ply¬
ing her distaff. Though time had left its mark upon
the delicate workmanship of portal and shrine, the ex¬
treme care taken of it by the servants of the house
allowed the passers-by to note all its details.
The casing of the door, formed by fluted pilasters,
was dark gray in color, and so highly polished that it
shone as if varnished. On either side of the doorway,
on the ground-floor, were two windows, which resembled
all the other windows of the house. The casing of
white stone ended below the sill in a richly carved shell,
and rose above the window in an arch, supported at its
apex by the head-piece of a cross, which divided the
glass 'sashes in four unequal parts ; for the transversal
bar, placed at the height of that in a Latin cross, made
the lower sashes of the window nearly double the height
of the upper, the latter rounding at the sides into the
arch. The coping of the arch was ornamented with
three rows of brick, placed one above the other, the
1*
The Alkahest.
bricks alternately projecting or retreating to the depth
of an inch, giving the effect of a Greek moulding. The
glass panes, which were small and diamond-shaped,
were set in very slender leading, painted red. The
walls of the house, of brick pointed with white mortar,
were braced at regular distances, and at the angles of
the house, by stone courses.
The first floor was pierced by five windows, the sec¬
ond by three, while the attic had only one large circular
opening in five divisions, surrounded by a freestone
moulding and placed in the centre of the triangular ped¬
iment defined by the gable-roof, like the rose-window of
a cathedral. At the peak was a vane in the shape of a
weaver's shuttle threaded with flax. Both sides of the
large triangular pediment which formed the wall of the
gable were dentelled squarely into something like steps,
as low down as the string-course of the upper floor,
where the rain from the roof fell to right and left of the
house through the jaws of a fantastic gargoyle. A
freestone foundation projected like a step at the base
of the house; and 011 either side of the entrance, be¬
tween the two windows, was a trap-door, clamped by
heavy iron bands, through which the cellars were
entered, — a last vestige of ancient usages.
From the time the house was built, this facade had
been carefully cleaned twice a year. If a little mortar
fell from between the bricks, the crack was instantly
The Alkahest.
13
filled up. The sashes, the sills, the copings, were
dusted oftener than the most precious sculptures in the
Louvre. The front of the house Ibore no signs of decay ;
notwithstanding the deepened color which age had given
to the bricks, it was as well preserved as a choice old
picture, or some rare book cherished by an amateur,
which would be ever new were it not for the blistering
of our climate and the effect of gases, whose pernicious
breath threatens our own health.
The cloudy skies and humid atmosphere of Flanders,
and the shadows produced by the narrowness of the
street, sometimes diminished the brilliancy which the
old house derived from its cleanliness; moreover,
the very care bestowed upon it made it rather sad and
chilling to the eye. A poet might have wished some
leafage about the shrine, a little moss in the crevices of
the freestone, a break in the even courses of the brick ;
he would have longed for the swallow to build her nest
in the red coping that roofed the arches of the windows.
The precise and immaculate air of this facade, a little
worn by perpetual rubbing, gave the house a tone of
severe propriety and estimable decency which would
have driven a romanticist out of the neighborhood, had
he happened to take lodgings over the wa}\
When a visitor had pulled the braided iron wire bell-
cord which hung from the top of the pilaster of the
doorway, and the servant-woman, coming from within,
14
The Alkahest.
had admitted him through the side of the double-door
in which was a small grated loop-hole, that half of the
door escaped from her hand and swung back by its own
weight .with a solemn, ponderous sound that echoed
along the roof of a wide paved archway and through
the depths of the house, as though the door had been of
iron. This archway, painted to resemble marble, al¬
ways clean and daily sprinkled with fresh sand, led into
a large court-yard paved with smooth square stones of
a greenish color. On the left were the linen-rooms,
kitchens, and servants' hall; to the right, the wood-
house, coal-house, and offices, whose doors, walls, and
windows were decorated with designs kept exquisitely
clean. The daylight, threading its way between four
red walls chequered with white lines, caught rosy tints
and reflections which gave a mysterious grace and fan¬
tastic appearance to faces, and even to trifling details.
A second house, exactly like the building on the
street, and called in Flanders the " back-quarter," stood
at the farther end of the court-yard, and was used ex¬
clusively as the family dwelling. The first room on the
ground-floor was a parlor, lighted by two windows on
the court-yard, and two more looking out upon a gar¬
den which was of the same size as the house. Two
glass doors, placed exactly opposite to each other, led
at one end of the room to the garden, at the other
to the court-yard, and were in line with the archway
The Alkahest.
15
and the street door; so that a visitor entering the
latter could see through to the greenery which draped
the lower end of the garden. The front building, which
was reserved for receptions and the lodging-rooms of
guests, held many objects of art and accumulated
wealth, but none of them equalled in the eyes of a
Claes, nor indeed in the judgment of a connoisseur,
the treasures contained in the parlor, where for over
two centuries the family life had glided on.
The Claes who died for the liberties of Ghent, and
who might in these days be thought a mere ordinary
craftsman if the historian omitted to say that he pos¬
sessed over forty thousand silver marks, obtained by
the manufacture of sail-cloth for the all-powerful Vene¬
tian navy, — this Claes had a friend in the famous
sculptor in wood, Van Huysum- of Bruges. The artist
had dipped many a time into the purse of the rich
craftsman. Some time before the rebellion of the men
of Ghent, Van Huysum, grown rich himself, had secretly
carved for his friend a wall-decoration in ebon}", repre¬
senting the chief scenes in the life of Van Artevelde, —
that brewer of Ghent who, for a brief hour, was King
of Flanders. This wall-covering, of which there were
no less than sixty panels, contained about fourteen
hundred principal figures, and was held to be Van
Huysum's masterpiece. The officer appointed to guard
the burghers whom Charles V. determined to hang when
The Alkahest.
he re-entered his native town, proposed, it is said, ta
Van Claes to let him escape if he would give him Van
Huysum's great work; but the weaver had already
despatched it to Douai.
The parlor, whose walls were entirely panelled with
this carving, which Van Huysum, out of regard for the
martjr's memory, came to Douai to frame in wood
painted in lapis-lazuli with threads of gold, is therefore
the most complete work of this master, whose least carv¬
ings now sell for nearly their weight in gold. Hanging
over the fire-place, Van Claes the martyr, painted by
Titian in his robes as president of the Court of Parchons,
still seemed the head of the family, who venerated him
as their greatest man. The chimney-piece, originally
in stone with a very high mantle-shelf, had been made
over in marble during the last century; on it now stood
an old clock and two candlesticks with five twisted
branches, in bad taste, but of solid silver. The four
windows were draped by wide curtains of red damask
with a flowered black design, lined with white silk ; the
furniture, covered with the same material, had been ren¬
ovated in the time of Louis XIV. The floor, evidently
modern, was laid in large squares of white wood bor¬
dered with strips of oak. The ceiling, formed of many
oval panels, in each of which Van Huysum had carved
a grotesque mask, had been respected and allowed to
keep the brown tones of the native Dutch oak.
The Alkahest.
17
In the four corners of this parlor were truncated
columns, supporting candelabra exactly like those on
the mantle-shelf; and a round table stood in the middle
of the room. Along the walls card-tables were S3*m-
metrically placed. On two gilded consoles with marble
slabs there stood, at the period when this history be¬
gins, two glass globes filled with water, in which, above
a bed of sand and shells, red and gold and silver fish
were swimming about. The room was both brilliant
and sombre. The ceiling necessarily absorbed the light
and reflected none. Although on the garden side all was
bright and glowing, and the sunshine danced upon the
ebony carvings, the windows on the court-yard admitted
so little light that the gold threads in the lapis-lazuli
scarcely glittered on the opposite wall. This parlor,
which could be gorgeous on a fine day, was usually,
under the Flemish skies, filled with soft shadows and
melancholy russet tones, like those shed by the sun on
the tree-tops of the forests in autumn.
It is unnecessary to continue this description of the
House of Claes, in other parts of which many scenes
of this history will occur: at present, it is enough to
make known its general arrangement.
]VL G. if.—Yes, the instrument is called the Seismometer, and is capable
of measuring the direction and force of earthquakes and similar concussions.
There are various contrivances for this purpose, the most perfect of which
is perhaps, the form used in the observatory on Mount Vesuvius. It
consists of a delicate electric apparatus, which is set to work by the agitation
or change of level of a mercurial column, which records the time of the first
shock the interval between the shocks, and the duration of each, their
nature whether vertical or horizontal, the maximum intensity, and in the
case of horizontal shocks, the direction is also given.
18
The Alkahest.
II.
Towards the end of August, 1812, 011 a Sunday
evening after vespers, a woman was sitting in a deep
armchair placed before one of the windows looking out
upon the garden. The sun's rays fell obliquely upon
the house and athwart the parlor, breaking into fan¬
tastic lights on the carved panellings of the wall, and
wrapping the woman in a crimson halo projected through
the damask curtains which draped the window. Even
an ordinary painter, had he sketched this woman at this
particular moment, would assuredly have produced a
striking picture of a head that was full of pain and mel¬
ancholy. The attitude of the bodjy and that of the feet
stretched out before her, showed the prostration of one
who loses consciousness of physical being in the con¬
centration of powers absorbed in a fixed idea: she was
following its gleams in the far future, just as sometimes
on the shores of the sea, we gaze at a ray of sunlight
which pierces the clouds and draws a luminous line
to the horizon.
The' hands of this woman hung nerveless outside the
arms of her chair, and her head, as if too heavy to hold
The Alkahest.
19
up, lay back upon its cushions. A dress of white cam¬
bric, very full and flowing, hindered any judgment as to
the proportions of her figure, and the bust was con¬
cealed by the folds of a scarf crossed on the bosom and
negligently knotted. If the light had not thrown into
relief her face, which she seemed to show in prefer¬
ence to the rest of her person, it would still have been
impossible to escape riveting the attention exclusive^
upon it. Its expression of stupefaction, which was cold
and rigid despite hot tears that were rolling from her
eyes, would have struck the most thoughtless mind.
Nothing is more terrible to behold than excessive grief
that is rarely allowed to break forth, of which traces
were left on this woman's face like lava congealed
about a crater. She might have been a dying mother
compelled to leave her children in abysmal depths of
wretchedness, unable to bequeath them to any human
protector.
The countenance of this lady, then about forty years
of age and not nearly so far from handsome as she had
been in her youth, bore none of the characteristics of a
Flemish woman. Her thick black hair fell in heavy
curls Upon her shoulders and about her cheeks. The
forehead, very prominent, and narrow at the temples,
was yellow in tint, but beneath it sparkled two black
eyes that were capable of emitting flames. Her face,
altogether Spanish, dark skinned, with little color and
20
The Alkahest.
pitted by tlxe small-pox, attracted the eye by the beauty
of its oval, whose outline, though slightly impaired by
time, preserved a finished elegance and dignit}*, and
regained at times its full perfection when some effort of
the soul restored its pristine purity. The most notice¬
able feature in this strong face was the nose, aquiline
as the beak of an eagle, and so sharply curved at the
middle as to give the idea of an interior malformation;
yet there was an air of indescribable delicacy about it,
and the partition between the nostrils was so thin that
a rosy light shone through it. Though the lips, which
were large and curved, betrayed the pride of noble
birth, their expression was one of kindliness and natu¬
ral courtesy.
The beauty of this vigorous yet feminine face might
indeed be questioned, but the face itself commanded
attention. Short, deformed, and lame, this woman re¬
mained all the longer unmarried because the world ob¬
stinately refused to credit her with gifts of mind.
Yet there were men who were deeply stirred by the pas¬
sionate ardor of that face and its tokens of ineffable
tenderness, and who remained under a charm that was
seemingly irreconcilable with such personal defects.
She was very like her grandfather, the Duke of Casa-
Ileal, a grandee of Spain. At this moment, when we
first see her, the charm which in earlier days despoti¬
cally grasped the soul of poets and lovers of poesy now
The Alkahest.
21
emanated from that head with greater vigor than at any
former period of her life, spending itself, as it were,
upon the void, and expressing a nature of all-powerful
fascination over men, though it was at the same time
powerless over destiny.
When her eyes turned from the glass globes, where
they were gazing at the fish they saw not, she raised
them with a despairing action, as if to invoke the skies.
Her sufferings seemed of a kind that are told to God
alone. The silence was unbroken save for the chirp
of crickets and the shrill whirr of a few locusts, coming
from the little garden then hotter than an oven, and the
dull sound of silver and plates, and the moving of chairs
in the adjoining room, where a servant was preparing
to serve the dinner.
At this moment, the distressed woman roused herself
from her abstraction and listened attentively ; she took
her handkerchief, wiped away her tears, attempted to
smile, and so resolutely effaced the expression of pain
that was stamped on every feature that she pres¬
ently seemed in the state of happy indifference which
comes with a life exempt from care. Whether it wTerc
that the habit of living in this house to which infirmities
confined her enabled her to perceive certain natural
effects that are imperceptible to the senses of others, but
which persons under the influence of excessive feeling
are keen to discover, or whether Nature, in compensation
22
The Alkahest.
for her physical defects, had given her more delicate
sensations than better organized beings, —it is certain
that this woman had heard the steps of a man in a gallery
built above the kitchens and the servants' hall, by which
the front house communicated with the "back-quarter."
The steps grew more distinct. Soon, without possess¬
ing the power of this ardent creature to abolish space
and meet her other self, even a stranger would have
heard the foot-fall of a man upon the staircase which
led down from the gallery to the parlor.
The sound of that step would have startled the most
heedless being into thought; it was impossible to hear
it cooll}*. A precipitate, headlong step produces fear.
When a man springs forward and cries, " Fire!" his
feet speak as loudly as his voice. If this be so, then a
contrary gait ought not to cause less powerful emotion.
The slow approach, the dragging step of the coming
man might have irritated an unreflecting spectator; but
an observer, or a nervous person, would undoubtedly
have felt something akin to terror at the measured tread
of feet that seemed devoid of life, and under which the
stairs creaked loudly, as though two iron weights were
striking them alternately. The mind recognized at
once either the heavy, undecided step of an old man or
the majestic tread of a great thinker bearing the worlds
with him.
When the man had reached the lowest stair, and had
The Alkahest.
23
planted both feet upon the tiled floor with a hesitating,
uncertain movement, he stood still for a moment on the
wide landing which led on one side to the servants' hall,
and on the other to the parlor through a door concealed
in the panelling of that room, —as was another door,
leading from the parlor to the dining-room. At this
moment a slight shudder, like the sensation caused by
an electric spark, shook the woman seated in the arm¬
chair; then a soft smile brightened her lips, and her
face, moved by the expectation of a pleasure, shone like
that of an Italian Madonna. She suddenly gained
strength to drive her terrors back into the depths of
her heart. Then she turned her face to the panel of
the wall which she knew was about to open, and which
in fact was now pushed in wfitli such brusque violence
that the poor woman herself seemed jarred by the shock.
Balthazar Claes suddenly appeared, made a few steps
forward, did not look at the woman, or if he looked at
her did not see her, and stood erect in the middle of
the parlor, leaning his half-bowed head on his right
hand. A sharp pang to which the woman could not
accustom herself, although it was daily renewed, wrung
her heart, dispelled her smile, contracted the sallow
forehead between the eyebrows, indenting that line
which the frequent expression of excessive feeling
scores so deeply; her eyes filled with tears, but she
wiped them quickly as she looked at Balthazar.
24
The Alkahest.
It was impossible not to be deeply impressed by tliis
head of the family of Claes. When young, he must
have resembled the noble family martyr who had
threatened to be another Artevelde to Charles V.; but
as he stood there at this moment, he seemed over sixty
years of age, though he was only fifty ; and this prema¬
ture old age had destroyed the honorable likeness. His
tall figure was slightly bent, — either because his labors,
whatever they were, obliged him to stoop, or that the
spinal column was curved by the weight of his head.
He had a broad chest and square shoulders, but the
lower parts of the body were lank and wasted, though
nervous; and this discrepancy in a pltysical organiza¬
tion evidently once perfect puzzled the mind which
endeavored to explain this anomalous figure by some
possible singularities of the man's life.
His thick blond hair, ill cared-for, fell over his shoul¬
ders in the Dutch fashion, and its very disorder was in
keeping with the general eccentricity of his person.
His broad brow showed certain protuberances which
Gall identifies with poetic genius. His clear and full
blue eyes had the brusque vivacity which majT be
noticed in searchers for occult causes. The nose,
probably perfect in early life, was now elongated, and
the nostrils seemed to have gradualty opened wider
from an involuntary tension of the olfactoiy muscles.
The cheek-bones were very prominent, which made the
The Alkahest.
25
cheeks themselves, already withered, seem more sunken ;
his mouth, full of sweetness, was squeezed in between
the nose and a short chin, which projected sharply.
The shape of the face, however, was long rather than
oval, and the scientific doctrine which sees in every
human face a likeness to an animal would have found
its confix-mation in that of Balthazar Claes, which bore a
strong resemblance to a horse's head. The skin clung
closely to the bones, as though some inwai'd fire were
incessantly drying its juices. Sometimes, when he
gazed into space, as if to see the realization of his
hopes, it almost seemed as though the flames that
devoured his soul were issuing from his nostrils. ■
The inspired feelings that animate great men shone
forth on the pale face furrowed with wrinkles, on the
brow haggard with care like that of an old monarch,
but above all they gleamed in the sparkling eye, whose
fires were fed by chastity imposed by the tyranny of
ideas and by the inward consecration of a great intel¬
lect. The cavernous eyes seemed to have sunk in their
orbits through midnight vigils and the terrible reaction
of hopes destroj'ed, yet ceaselessly reborn. The zealous
fanaticism inspired by an art or a science was evident
in this man ; it betrayed itself in the strange, persistent
abstraction of his mind expressed by his dress and bear¬
ing, which were in keeping with the anomalous pecu¬
liarities of his person.
26
The Alkahest.
His large, hairy hands were dirty, and the nails,
which were very long, had deep black lines at their
extremities. His shoes were not cleaned and the shoe¬
strings were missing. Of all that Flemish household,
the master alone took the strange liberty of being slov¬
enly. His black cloth trousers were covered with
stains, his waistcoat was unbuttoned, his cravat awry,
his greenish coat ripped at the seams, —completing an
array of signs, great and small, which in any other man
would have betokened a poverty begotten of vice, but
which in Balthazar Claes was the negligence of genius.
Vice and Genius too often produce the same effects;
and this misleads the common mind. What is genius
but a long excess which squanders time and wealth and
physical powers, and leads more rapidly to a hospital
than the worst of passions ? Men even seem to have
more respect for vices than for genius, since to the lat¬
ter they refuse credit. The profits accruing from the
hidden labors of the brain are so remote that the social
world fears to square accounts with the man of learning
in his lifetime, preferring to get rid of its obligations by
not forgiving his misfortunes or his poverty.
If, in spite of this inveterate forgetfulness of the
present, Balthazar Claes had abandoned his mysteri¬
ous abstractions, if some sweet and companionable
meaning had revisited that thoughtful countenance, if
the fixed eyes had lost their rigid strain and shone with
The Alkahest.
27
feeling, if he had ever looked humanly about him and
returned to the real life of common things, it would
indeed have been difficult not to do involuntary homage
to the winning beauty of his face and the gracious soul
that would then have shone from it. As it was, all
who looked at him regretted that the man belonged no
more to the world at large, and said to one another:
" He must have been very handsome in his youth." A
vulgar error! Never was Balthazar Claes's appearance
more poetic than at this moment. Lavater, had he seen
him, would fain have studied that head so full of pa¬
tience, of Flemish loyalty, and pure morality, — where
all was broad and noble, and passion seemed calm be¬
cause it was strong.
The conduct of this man could not be otherwise than
pure; his word was sacred, his friendships seemed un-
deviating, his self-devotedness complete: and yet the
will to employ those qualities in patriotic service, for
the world or for the family, was directed, fatally, else¬
where. This citizen, bound to guard the welfare of a
household, to manage property, to guide his children
towards a noble future, was living outside the line of
his duty and his affections, in communion with an at¬
tendant spirit. A priest might have thought him in¬
spired by the word of God; an artist would have hailed
him as a great master ; an enthusiast would have taken
him for a seer of the Swedenborgian faith.
28
The Alkahest.
At the present moment, the dilapidated, uncouth,
and ruined clothes that he wore contrasted strangely
with the graceful elegance of the woman who was sadty
admiring him. Deformed persons who have intellect,
or nobility of soul, show an exquisite taste in their ap¬
parel. Either they dress simply, convinced that their
charm is wholly moral, or they make others forget their
imperfections by an elegance of detail which diverts the
eye and occupies the mind. Not only did this woman
possess a noble soul, but she loved Balthazar Claes
with that instinct of the woman which gives a foretaste
of the communion of angels. Brought up in one of the
most illustrious families of Belgium, she would have
learned good taste had she not possessed it; and now,
taught by the desire of constantly pleasing the man she
loved, she knew how to clothe herself admirably, and
without producing incongruity between her elegance and
the defects of her conformation. The bust, however,
was defective in the shoulders only, one of which was
noticeably much larger than the other.
She looked out of the window into the courtyard,
then towards the garden, as if to make sure she was
alone with Balthazar, and presentty said, in a gentle
voice and with a look full of a Flemish woman's sub-
missiveness,—for between these two love had long
since driven out the pride of her Spanish nature : —
"Balthazar, are you so very busy? this is the
The Alkahest.
29
thirt}--third Sunday since you have been to mass or
vespers."
Claes did not answer; his wife bowed her head,
clasped her hands, and waited: she knew that his
silence meant neither contempt nor indifference, only a
tyrannous preoccupation. Balthazar was one of those
beings who preserve deep in their souls and after long
years all their youthful delicacy of feeling; he would
have thought it criminal to wound by so much as a
word a woman weighed down by the sense of physical
disfigurement. No man knew better than he that a
look, a word, suffices to blot out years of happiness,
and is the' more cruel because it contrasts with the un¬
failing tenderness of the past: our nature leads us to
suffer more from one discord in our happiness than
pleasure coming in the midst of trouble can bring us
joy-
Presently Balthazar appeared to waken; he looked
quickly about him, and said, —
"Vespers? Ah, yes ! the children are at vespers."
He made a few steps forward, and looked into the
garden, where magnificent tulips were growing on all
sides ; then he suddenly stopped short as if brought up
against a wall, and cried out, —
"Why should they not combine within a given
time?"
" Is he going mad?" thought the wife, much terrified.
30
The Alkahest.
To give greater interest to the present scene, which
was called forth by the situation of their affairs, it is
absolutely necessary to glance back at the past lives of
Balthazar Claes and the granddaughter of the Duke of
Casa-Real.
Towards the year 1783, Monsieur Balthazar Claes-
Molina de Nourho, then twenty-two years of age, was
what is called in France a fine man. He came to finish
his education in Paris, where he acquired excellent
manners in the society of Madame d'Egmont, Count
Horn, the Prince of Aremberg, the Spanish ambassa¬
dor, Helvetius, and other Frenchmen originally from
Belgium, or coming lately thence, whose birth or wealth
won them admittance among the great seigneurs who
at that time gave the tone to social life. Young Claes
found several relations and friends ready to launch him
into the great world at the very moment when that
world was about to fall. Like other young men, he
was at first more attracted by glory and science than
by the vanities of life. He frequented the society of
scientific men, particularly Lavoisier, who at that time
was better known to the world for his enormous fortune
as a fermier-general than for his discoveries in chemis¬
try, — though later the great chemist was to eclipse the
man of wealth.
Balthazar grew enamoured of the science which La¬
voisier cultivated, and became his devoted disciple;
The Alkahest.
31
bat he was young, and handsome as Helvetius, and be¬
fore long the Parisian women taught him to distil wit
and love exclusively. Though he had studied chemis¬
try with such ardor that Lavoisier commended him, he
deserted science and his master for those mistresses of
fashion and good taste from whom young men take fin¬
ishing lessons in knowledge of life, and learn the usages
of good society, which in Europe forms, as it were, one
family.
The intoxicating dream of social success lasted but a
short time. Balthazar left Paris, weaiy of a hollow
existence which suited neither his ardent soul nor his
loving heart. Domestic life, so calm, so tender, which
the very name of Flanders recalled to him, seemed far
more fitted to his character and to the aspirations of
his heart. No gilded Parisian salon had effaced from
his mind the harmonies of the panelled parlor and the
little garden where his happy childhood had slipped
away. A man must needs be without a home to re¬
main in Paris, — Paris, the city of cosmopolitans, of
men who wed the world, and clasp her with the arms
of Science, Art, or Power.
The son of Flanders came back to Douai, like La
Fontaine's pigeon to its nest; he wept with jo}' as he
re-entered the town on the day of the Gayant proces¬
sion,— Gayant, the superstitious luck of Douai, the
glory of Flemish traditions, introduced there at the
32
The Alkahest.
time the Claes family had emigrated from Ghent. The
death of Balthazar's father and mother had left the old
mansion deserted, and the young man was occupied for
a time in settling its affairs. His first grief over, he
wished to marry; he needed the domestic happiness
whose every religious aspect had fastened upon his
mind. He even followed the family custom of seeking
a wife in Ghent, or at Bruges, or Antwerp ; hut it hap¬
pened that no woman whom he met there suited him.
Undoubtedly, he had certain peculiar ideas as to mar¬
riage ; from his youth he had been accused of never
following the beaten track.
One day, at the house of a relation in Ghent, he
heard a young lad}r, then living in Brussels, spoken of
in a manner which gave rise to a long discussion. Some
said that the beauty of Mademoiselle de Temninck was
destroyed by the imperfections of her figure; others
declared that she was perfect in spite of her defects.
Balthazar's old cousin, at whose house the discussion
took place, assured his guests that, handsome or not,
she had a soul that would make him marry her were he
a marrying man; and he told how she had lately re¬
nounced her share of her parents' property to enable
her brother to make a marriage worthy of his name;
thus preferring his happiness to her own, and sacrificing
her future to his interests, — for it was not to be sup¬
posed that Mademoiselle de Temninck would marry late
The Alkahest.
33
in life and without property when, young and wealthy,
she had met with no aspirant.
A few days later, Balthazar Claes made the acquaint¬
ance of Mademoiselle de Temninck; with whom he fell
deeply in love. At first, Josephine de Temninck
thought herself the object of a mere caprice, and re¬
fused to listen to Monsieur Claes; but passion is con¬
tagious ; and to a poor girl who was lame and ill-made,
the sense of inspiring love in a young and handsome
man carries with it such strong seduction that she
finally consented to allow him to woo her.
It would need a volume to paint the love of a young
girl humbly submissive to the verdict of a world that calls
her plain, while she feels within her the irresistible charm
which comes of sensibility and true feeling. It involves
fierce jealousy of happiness, freaks of cruel vengeance
against some fancied rival who wins a glance, — emo¬
tions, terrors, unknown to the majority of women, and
which ought, therefore, to be more than indicated.
The doubt, the dramatic doubt of love, is the key¬
note of this analysis, where certain souls will find once
more the lost, but unforgotten, poetry of their early
struggles ; the passionate exaltations of the heart which
the face must not betray; the fear that we may not be
understood, and the boundless joy of being so; the
hesitations of the soul which recoils upon itself, and the
magnetic propulsions which give to the eyes an infini-
8
34
The Alkahest
tucle of shades; the promptings to suicide caused by a
word, dispelled by an intonation; trembling glances
which veil an inward daring; sudden desires to speak
and act that are paralyzed by their own violence; the
secret eloquence of common phrases spoken in a quiver¬
ing voice; the mysterious workings of that pristine
modesty of soul and that divine discernment which
lead to hidden generosities, and give so exquisite a
flavor to silent devotion; in short, all the loveliness of
young love, and the weaknesses of its power.
Mademoiselle Josephine de Temninck was coquettish
from nobility of soul. The sense of her obvious imper¬
fections made her as difficult to win as the handsomest
of women. The fear of some day displeasing the e}"e
roused her pride, destroyed her trustfulness, and gave
her the courage to hide in the depths of her heart that
dawning happiness which other women delight in mak¬
ing known by their manners, — wearing it proudly, like
a coronet. The more love urged her towards Balthazar,
the less she dared to express her feelings. The glance,
the gesture, the question and answer as it were of a
pretty woman, so flattering to the man she loves, would
they not be in her case mere humiliating speculation ?
A beautiful woman can be her natural self, — the world
overlooks her little follies or her clumsiness; whereas
a single criticising glance checks the noblest expression
on the lips of an ugly woman, adds to the ill-grace of
The Alkahest.
85
her gesture, gives timidity to her eyes and awkwardness
to her whole bearing. She knows too well that to her
alone the world condones no faults; she is denied the
right to repair them; indeed, the chance to do so is
never given. This necessity of being perfect and on
her guard at every moment, must surely chill her facul¬
ties and numb their exercise? Such a woman can exist
only in an atmosphere of angelic forbearance. Where
are the hearts from which forbearance comes with no
alloy of bitter and stinging pity?
These thoughts, to which the codes of social life had
accustomed her, and the sort of consideration more
wounding than insult shown to her by the world, — a
consideration which increases a misfortune by making
it apparent, — oppressed Mademoiselle de Temninck
with a constant sense of embarrassment, which drove
back into her soul its happiest expression, and chilled
and stiffened her attitudes, her speech, her looks.
Loving and beloved, she dared to be eloquent or beau¬
tiful only when alone. Unhappy and oppressed in the
broad daylight of life, she might have been enchanting
could she have expanded in the shadow. Often, to test
the love thus offered to her, and at the risk of losing it,
she refused to wear the draperies that concealed some
portion of her defects, and her Spanish eyes grew en¬
trancing when they saw that Balthazar thought her
beautiful as before.
36
The Alkahest.
Nevertheless, even so, distrust spoiled the rare mo¬
ments when she yielded herself to happiness. She
asked herself if Claes were not seeking a domestic
slave,—one who would necessarily keep the house?
whether he had himself no secret imperfection which
obliged him to be satisfied with a poor, deformed girl?
Such perpetual misgivings gave a priceless value to the
few short hours during which she trusted the sincerity
and the permanence of a love which was to avenge her
on the world. Sometimes she provoked hazardous
discussions, and probed the inner consciousness of her
lover by exaggerating her defects. At such times she
often wrung from Balthazar truths that were far from
flattering ; but she loved the embarrassment into which
he fell when she had led him to say that what he loved
in a woman was a noble soul and the devotion which
made each day of life a constant happiness ; and that
after a few 3-ears of married life the handsomest of
women was no more to a husband than the ugliest.
After gathering up what there was of truth in all such
paradoxes tending to reduce the value of beauty, Bal¬
thazar would suddenly perceive the ungraciousness of
his remarks, and show the goodness of his heart by
the delicate transitions of thought with which he proved
to Mademoiselle de Temninck that she was perfect in
his eyes.
The spirit of devotion which, it may be, is the crown
The Alkahest. 37
of love in a woman, was not lacking in this young girl,
who had always despaired of being loved; at first, the
prospect of a struggle in which feeling and sentiment
would triumph over actual beauty tempted her; then,
she fancied a grandeur in giving herself to a man in
whose love she did not believe ; finally, she was forced
to admit that happiness, however short its duration
might be, was too precious to resign.
Such hesitations, such struggles, giving the charm
and the unexpectedness of passion to this noble crea¬
ture, inspired Balthazar with a love that was well-nigh
chivalric.
Varieties of Taste-Nerves.—"There exists
a mistaken notion," says Dr. Andrew Wilson, "that
the-tongue is the sole organ of taste, just as the
idea, natural but erroneous, is extant that it is
necessary for purposes of speech. As a matter of
fact, taste is as largely resident in the palate as in
the tongue, while numerous cases are on record in
which persons who have suffered the loss of the
tongue have been able to speak with clearness.
Recently a proof was given of the widespread
nature of the taste-sense in the mouth. In a patient
from whom the tongue had been very completely
removed, it was found that sensations of sweet,
sour, and bitter nature were still present. Curiously,
too, no sense of salt taste remained. These facts
would almost seem to prove that various parts of
tongue and palate are set apart for the appreciation
of different tastes. This idea supports the fact that
the tongue possesses on its surface papillae or taste-
organs of different shapes and sizes. It is con¬
sistent to assume that such variations in the ends
of the nerves of taste imply variations in their
functions."
«II
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38
The Alkahest.
III.
The marriage took place at the beginning of the
year 1795. Husband and wife came to Donai that the
first days of their union might be spent in the patriar¬
chal house of the ClaeS, —the treasures of which were
increased by those of Mademoiselle de Temninck, who
brought with her several fine pictures of Murillo and
Velasquez, the diamonds of her mother, and the mag¬
nificent wedding-gifts, made to her by her brother, the
Duke of Casa-Real.
Few women were ever happier than Madame Claes.
Her happiness lasted for fifteen years without a cloud,
diffusing itself like a vivid light into every nook and
detail of her life. Most men have inequalities of
character which produce discord, and deprive- their
households of the harmony which is the ideal of a
home ; the majority are blemished with some littleness
or meanness, and meanness of any kind begets bicker¬
ing. One man is honorable and diligent, but hard and
crabbed; another kindly, but obstinate ; this one loves
his wife, yet his will is arbitrary and uncertain; that
other, preoccupied by ambition, pays off his affections
The Alkahest.
39
as he would a debt, bestows the luxuries of wealth but
deprives the daily life of happiness, — in short, the aver¬
age man of social life is essentially incomplete, without
being signally to blame. Men of talent are as variable
as barometers ; genius alone is intrinsically good.
For this reason unalloyed happiness is found at the
two extremes of the moral scale. The good-natured
fool and the man of genius alone are capable — the one
through weakness, the other by strength—of that
equanimity of temper, that unvarying gentleness, which
soften the asperities of daily life.' In the one, it is in¬
difference or stolidity; in the other, indulgence and a
portion of the divine thought of which he is the inter¬
preter, and which needs to be consistent alike in princi¬
ple and application. Both natures are equally simple ;
but in one there is vacancy, in the other depth. This
is why clever women are disposed to take dull men as
the small change for great ones.
Balthazar Claes carried his greatness into the lesser
things of life. He delighted in considering conjugal
love as a magnificent work; and like all men of lofty
aims who can bear nothing imperfect, he wished to
develop all its beauties. His powers of mind enlivened
the calm of happiness, his noble nature marked his
attentions with the charm of grace. Though he shared
the philosophical tenets of the eighteenth centuiy, he
installed a chaplain in his home until 1801 (in spite of
40
The Alkahest.
the risk lie ran from tlie revolutionary decrees), so that
he might not thwart the Spanish fanaticism which his
wife had sucked in with her mother's milk: later, when
public worship was restored in France, he accompanied
her to mass every Sunday. His passion never ceased
to be that of a lover. The protecting power, which
women like so much, was never exercised by this hus¬
band, lest to that wife it might seem pity. He treated
her with exquisite flattery as an equal, and sometimes
mutinied against her, as men will, as though to brave
the supremacy of a pretty woman. His lips wore a
smile of happiness, his speech was ever tender; he
loved his Josephine for herself and for himself, with an
ardor that crowned with perpetual praise the qualities
and the loveliness of a wife.
Fidelity, often the result of social principle, religious
duty, or self-interest on the part of a husband, was in
this case involuntarjq and not without the sweet flat¬
teries of the spring-time of love. Duty was the only
marriage obligation unknown to these lovers, whose
love was equal; for Balthazar Claes found the com¬
plete and lasting realization of his hopes in Mademoi¬
selle de Temninck; his heart was satisfied but not
wearied, the man within him was ever happy.
Not only did the daughter of Casa-Real derive from
her Spanish blood the intuition of that science which
varies pleasure and makes it infinite, but she possessed
The Alkahest.
41
the spirit of unbounded self-devotion, which is the
genius of her sex as grace is that of beauty. Her love
was a blind fanaticism which, at a nod, would have
sent her joyously to her death. Balthazar's own deli¬
cacy had exalted the generous emotions of his wife,
and inspired her with an imperious need of giving more
than she received. This mutual exchange of happiness
which each lavished upon the other, put the mainspring
of her life visibly outside of her personality, and filled
her words, her looks, her actions, with an ever-growing
love. Gratitude fertilized [and varied the life of each
heart; and the certainty of being all in all to one
another excluded the paltry things of existence, while
it magnified the smallest accessories.
The deformed woman whom her husband thinks
straight, the lame woman whom he would not have oth¬
erwise, the old woman who seems ever young — are
they not the happiest creatures of the feminine world ?
Can human passion go beyond it? The glory of a
woman is to be adored for a defect. To forget that a
lame woman does not walk straight may be the glamour
of a moment, but to love her because she is lame is the
deification of her defects. In the gospel of woman¬
hood it is written: "Blessed are the imperfect, for
theirs is the kingdom of Love." If this be so, surely
beauty is a misfortune ; that fugitive flower counts for
too much in the feeling that a woman inspires; often
42
The Alkahest.
she is loved for her beauty as another is married for
her money. But the love inspired or bestowed by a
woman disinherited of the frail advantages pursued by
the sons of Adam, is true love, the mysterious passion,
the ardent embrace of souls, a sentiment for which the
day of disenchantment never comes. That woman has
charms unknown to the world, from whose jurisdiction
she withdraws herself: she is beautiful with a meaning;
her glory lies in making her imperfections forgotten,
and thus she constantly succeeds in doing so.
The celebrated attachments of history were nearly all
inspired by women in whom the vulgar mind would
have found defects, — Cleopatra, Jeanne de Naples,
Diane de Poitiers, Mademoiselle de la Valliere, Madame
de Pompadour; in fact, the majority of the women whom
love has rendered famous were not without infirmities
and imperfections, while the greater number of those
whose beauty ft cited as perfect came to some tragic
end of love.-
This apparent singularity must have a cause. It
may be that man lives more by sentiment 'than by
sense ; perhaps the physical charm of beauty is limited,
while the moral charm of a woman without beauty is
infinite. Is not this the moral of the fable on which
the Arabian Nights are based? An ugly wife of
Henry VIII. might have defied the axe, and subdued
to herself the inconstancy of her master.
The Alkahest.
43
By a strange chance, not inexplicable, however, in a
girl of Spanish origin, Madame Claes was uneducated.
She knew how to read and write, but up to the age of
twenty, at which time her parents withdrew her from a
convent, she had read none but ascetic books. On her
first entrance into the world, she was eager for pleasure
and learned onty the flimsy art of dress ; sh^was, more¬
over, so deeply conscious of her ignorance that she
dared not join in conversation; for which reason she
was supposed to have little mind. Yet, the n^stical
education of a convent had one good result; it left her
feelings in full' force and her natural powers of mind
uninjured. Stupid and plain as an heiress in the eyes
of th'e world, she became intellectual and beautiful to
her husband. During the first years of their married
life, Balthazar endeavored to give her at least the
knowledge that she needed to appear to advantage in
good society: but he was doubtless too late, she had
no memory but that of the heart. Josephine never
forgot anything that Claes told her relating to them¬
selves ; she remembered the most trifling circumstances
of their happy life ; but of her evening studies nothing
remained to her on the morrow.
This ignorance might have caused much discord
between husband and wife, but Madame Claes's under¬
standing of the passion of love was so simple and
ingenuous, she loved her husband so religiously, so
44
The Alkahest.
sacredly, and the thought of preserving her happiness
made her so adroit, that she managed alwa}rs to seem
to understand him, and it was seldom indeed that her
ignorance was evident. Moreover, when two persons
love one another so well that each day seems for them
the beginning of their passion, phenomena arise out of
this teeming happiness which change all the conditions
of life. It resembles childhood, careless of all that is
not laughter, joy, and merriment. Then, when life is
in full activity, when its hearths glow, man lets the fire
burn without thought or discussion, without consider¬
ing either the means or the end.
No daughter of Eve ever more truly understood the
calling of a wife than Madame Claes. She had all the
submission of a Flemish woman, but her Spanish pride
gave it a higher flavor. Her bearing was imposing;
she knew how to command respect by a look which
expressed her sense of birth and dignity: but she
trembled before Claes; she held him so high, so near
to God, carrying to him every act of her life, every
thought of her heart, that her love was not without a
certain respectful fear which made it keener. She
proudly assumed all the habits of a Fleihish bourgeoise,
and put her self-love into making the home life liberally
happy, — preserving every detail of the house in scrupu¬
lous cleanliness, possessing nothing that did not serve
the purposes of true comfort, supplying her table with
The Alkahest.
45
III3 choicest food, and putting everything within those
walls into harmony with the life of her heart.
The pair had two sons and two daughters. The
eldest, Marguerite, was born in 1796. The last child
was a boy, now three j'ears old, named Jean-Balthazar.
The maternal sentiment in Madame Claes was almost
equal to her love for her husband; and there rose in
her soul, especially during the last days of her life, a
terrible struggle between those nearly balanced feel¬
ings, of which the one became, as it were, an enemy of
the other. The tears and the terror that marked her
face at the moment when this tale of a domestic drama
then lowering over the quiet house begins, were caused
by the fear of having sacrificed her children to her
husband.
In 1805, Madame Claes's brother died without chil¬
dren. The Spanish law does not allow a sister to suc¬
ceed . to territorial possessions, which follow the title;
but the duke had left her in his will about sixty thou¬
sand ducats, and this sum the heirs of the collateral
branch did not seek to retain. Though the feeling
which united her to Balthazar Claes was such that no
thought of personal interest could ever sully it, Josephine
felt a certain pleasure in possessing, a fortune equal to
that of her husband, and was happy in giving some¬
thing to one -who had so nobly given everything to her.
Thus, a mere chance turned a marriage which worldly
46
The Alkahest.
minds had declared foolish, into an excellent alliance,
seen from the standpoint of material interests. The
use to which this sum of money should be put became,
however, somewhat difficult to determine.
The House of Claes was so richly supplied with fur¬
niture, pictures, and objects of art of priceless value,
that it was difficult to add anything worth}7 of what
was already there. The tastes of the family through
long periods of time had accumulated these treasures.
One generation followed the quest of noble pictures,
leaving behind it the necessity of completing a collec¬
tion still unfinished; and thus the taste became he¬
reditary in the family. The hundred pictures which
adorned the gallery leading from the family building to
the reception-rooms on the first floor .of the front house,
as well as some fifty others placed about the salons,
were the product of the patient researches of three
centuries. Among them were choice specimens of
Rubens, Ruysdael, Vandyke, Terburg, Gerard Dow,
Teniers, Mieris, Paul Potter, "Wouvermans, Rembrandt,
Hobbema, Cranach, and Holbein. French and Italian
pictures were in a minority, but all were authentic and
masterly.
Another generation had fancied Chinese and Japan¬
ese porcelains: this Claes was eager after rare furni¬
ture, that one for silver-ware ; in fact, each and all had
their rpania, their passion, — a trait which belongs in
The Alkahest.
47
a striking degree to the Flemish character. The father
of Balthazar, a last relic of the once famous Dutch
society, left behind him the finest known collection of
tulips.
Besides these hereditary riches, which represented an
enormous capital, and were the choice ornament of the
venerable house, — a house that was simple as a shell
outside but, like a shell, adorned within by pearls of
price and glowing with rich color, — Balthazar Claes
possessed a country-house on the plain of Orchies, not
far from Douai. Instead of basing his expenses, as
Frenchmen do, upon his revenues, he followed the old'
Dutch custom of spending only a fourth of his income.
Twelve hundred ducats a year put his costs of living
at a level with those of the richest men of the place.
The promulgation of the Civil Code proved the wisdom
of this course. Compelling, as it did, the equal- divis¬
ion of property, the Title of Succession would some
day leave each child with limited means, and disperse
the treasures of the Claes collection. Balthazar, there¬
fore, in concert with Madame Claes, invested his
wife's property so as to secure to each child a fortune
eventually equal to his own. The house of Claes still
maintained its moderate scale of living, and bought
woodlands somewhat the worse for the wars that had
laid waste the country, but which in ten years' time, if
well-preserved, would return an enormous value.
48
The Alkahest.
The upper ranks of society in Douai, which Mon¬
sieur Claes frequented, appreciated so justly the noble
character and qualities of his wife that, by tacit con¬
sent she was released from those social duties to which
the provinces cling so tenaciously. During the winter
season, when she lived in town, she seldom went into
society; society came to her. She received every
Wednesday, and gave three grand dinners every
month. Her friends felt that she was more at ease in
her own house ; where, indeed, her passion for her
husband and the care she bestowed on the education
of her children tended to keep her.
Such had been, up to the year 1809, the general
course of this household, which had nothing in common
with the ordinary run of conventional ideas, though
the outward life of these two persons, secretly full ' of
love and jojq was like that of other people. Balthazar
Claes's passion for his wife, which she had known how
to perpetuate, seemed, to use his own expression, to
spend its inborn vigor and fidelity on the cultivation of
happiness, which was far better than the cultivation of
tulips (though to that he had always had a leaning),
and dispensed him from the duty of following a mania
like his ancestors.
At the close of this year, the mind and the man¬
ners of Balthazar Claes underwent a fatal change, — a
change which began so gradually that at first Madame
The Alkahest.
49
Claes did not think it necessary to inquire the cause.
One night her husband went to bed with a mind so
preoccupied that she felt it incumbent on her to respect
his mood. Her womanly delicacy and her submissive
habits always led her to wait for Balthazar's confi¬
dence ; which, indeed, was assured to her by so
constant an affection that she had never had the
slightest opening for jealousy. Though certain of ob¬
taining an answer whenever she should make the
inquiry, she still retained enough of the earlier impres¬
sions of her life to dread a refusal. Besides, the moral
malady of her husband had its phases, and only came
by slow degrees to the intolerable point at which it
destroyed the happiness of the family.
However occupied Balthazar Claes might be, he
continued for several months cheerful, affectionate,
and ready to talk; the change in his character showed
itself only by frequent periods of absent-mindedness.
Madame Claes long hoped to hear from her husband
himself the nature of the secret employment in which
he was engaged ; perhaps, she thought, he would reveal
it when it developed some useful result; many men are
led by pride to conceal the nature of their efforts, and
only make them known at the moment of success.
When the day of triumph came, surely domestic happi¬
ness would return, more vivid than ever when Balthazar
became aware of this chasm in the life of love, which
4
50
The Alkahest.
his heart would surely disavow. Josephine knew her
husband well enough to be certain that he would never
forgive himself for having made his Pepita less than
happy during several months.
She kept silence therefore, and felt a sort of joy in
thus suffering by him for him: her passion had a tinge
of that Spanish piety which allows no separation be¬
tween religion and love, and believes in no sentiment
without suffering. She waited for the return of her hus¬
band's affection, saying daily to herself, "To-morrow
it may come," — treating her happiness as though it
were an absent friend.
During this stage of her secret distress, she conceived
her last child. Horrible crisis, which revealed a future
of anguish! In the midst of her husband's abstrac¬
tions love showed itself on this occasion an abstraction
even greater than the rest. Her woman's pride, hurt
for the first time, made her sound the depths of the
unknown abyss which separated her from the Claes of
earlier days. From that time Balthazar's condition
grew rapidly worse. The man formerly so wrapped up
in his domestic happiness, who played for hours with
his children on the parlor carpet or round the garden
paths, who seemed able to exist only in the light of his
Pepita's dark eves, did not even perceive her pregnancy,
seldom shared the family life, and even forgot his
own.
The Alkahest.
51
The longer Madame Claes postponed inquiring into
the cause of his preoccupation the less she dared to do
so. At the very idea, her blood ran cold and her voice
grew faint. At last the thought occurred to her that
she had ceased to please her husband, and then indeed
she was seriously alarmed. That fear now filled her
mind, drove her to despair, then to feverish excitement,
and became the text of many an hour of melancholy
revery. She defended Balthazar at her own expense,
calling herself old and ugly; then she imagined a gen¬
erous though humiliating consideration for her in this
secret occupation by which he secured to her a negative
fidelity; and she resolved to give him back his indepen¬
dence by allowing one of those unspoken divorces
which make the happiness of many a marriage.
Before bidding farewell to conjugal life, Madame
Claes made some attempt to read her husband's heart,
and found it closed. Little by little, she saw him
become indifferent to all that he had formerly loved;
he neglected his tulips, he cared no longer for his
children. There could be no doubt that he was given
over to some passion that was not of the heart, but
which, to a woman's mind, is not less withering. His
love was dormant, not lost: this might be a consola¬
tion, but the misfortune remained the same.
The continuance of such a state of things is ex¬
plained bv one word, —hope, the secret of all con-
52
The Alkahest.
jugal situations. It so happened that whenever the
poor woman reached a depth of despair which gave her
courage to question her husband, she met "with a few
brief moments of happiness when she was able to feel
that if Balthazar were indeed in the clutch of some
devilish power, he was permitted, sometimes at least, to
return to himself. At such moments, when her heaven
brightened, she was too eager to enjoy its happiness to
trouble him with importunate questions: later, when
she endeavored to speak to him, he would suddenly
escape, leave her abruptly, or drop into the gulf of
meditation from which no word of hers could drag
him.
Before long the reaction of the moral upon the phys¬
ical condition began its ravages, — at first imperceptibly,
except to the eyes of a loving woman following the se¬
cret thought of a husband through all its manifesta¬
tions. Often she could scarcely restrain her tears when
she saw him, after dinner, sink into an armchair by the
corner of the fireplace, and remain there, gloom}' and
abstracted. She noted with terror the slow changes
which deteriorated that face, once, to her eyes, sublime
through love: the life of the soul was retreating from
it; the structure remained, but the spirit was gone.
Sometimes the eyes were glassy, and seemed as if they
had turned their gaze and were looking inward. When
the children had gone to bed, and the silence and solitude
The Alkahest.
53
oppressed her, Pepita would say, " My friend, are you
ill ?" and Balthazar would make no answer; or if he
answered, he would come to himself with a quiver, like
a man snatched suddenly from sleep, and utter a " No"
so harsh and grating that it fell like a stone on the
palpitating heart of his wife.
Though she tried to hide this strange state of things
from her friends, Madame Claes was obliged sometimes
to allude to it. The social world of Douai, in accord¬
ance with the custom of provincial towns, had made
Balthazar's aberrations a topic of conversation, and
many persons were aware of certain details that were
still unknown to Madame Claes. Disregarding the ret¬
icence which politeness demanded, a few friends ex¬
pressed to her so much anxiety on the subject that
she found herself compelled to defend her husband's
peculiarities.
"Monsieur Claes," she said, "has undertaken a
work which wholty absorbs him ; its success will even¬
tually redound not only to the honor of the famity but
to that of his country."
This mysterious explanation was too flattering to the
ambition of a town whose local patriotism and desire
for glory exceed those of other places, not to be readily
accepted, and it produced on all minds a reaction in
favor of Balthazar.
The supposition of his wife was, to a certain extent,
54
The Alkahest.
well-founded. Several .artificers of various trades had
long been at work in the garret of the front house,
where Balthazar went early every morning. After
.remaining, at first, for several hours, an absence to
which his wife and household grew gradually accus¬
tomed, he ended by being there all da}\ But — unex¬
pected shock! — Madame Claes learned through the
humiliating medium of some women friends, who
showed surprise at her ignorance, that her husband
constantly imported instruments of physical science,
valuable materials, books, machinery, etc., from Paris,
and was on the highroad to ruin in search of the Phi¬
losophers' Stone. She ought, so her kind friends ad¬
ded, to think of her children, and her own#future; it
was criminal not to use her influence to draw Monsieur
Claes from the fatal path on which he had entered.
Though Madame Claes, with the tone and manner of
a great lady, silenced these absurd speeches, she was
inwardly terrified in spite of her apparent confidence,
and she resolved to break through her present system
of silence and resignation. She brought about one of
those little scenes in which husband and wife are on an
equal footing; less timid at such a moment, she dared
to ask Balthazar the reason for his change, the mo¬
tive of his constant seclusion. The Flemish husband
frowned, and replied : —
k' My dear, youvcould not understand it."
The total abstainers are justified in making the
most of the fact that M. Chevreul, the wonderful
old Frenchman who was buried on Saturday with
State honours, abstained from alcohol. He did not
like it, and he said he thought it was detrimental.
He was exceedingly fond of milk, and lived for
the greater part of his life in the most simple
fashion. Withal, he had sufficient means, and
might have revelled in luxuries. It is a pity,
however, that the grand old chemist did not
leave behind him a scientific opinion on the
demerits of wine. Perhaps, being as modest as
he was clever, he felt that there was not one to ;
give which was worth having. In accordance with i
Chevreul's own wish, no speech was made at his f
grave.
The Alkahest.
55
Soon after, however, Josephine insisted on being told
the secret, gently complaining that she was not allowed
to share all the thoughts of one whose life she shared.
"Very well, since it interests you so much," said
Balthazar, taking his wife upon his knee and caressing
her black hair, "I will tell you that I have returned
to the study of chemistry, and I am the happiest man
on earth."
A LAUGH-PRODUCING PLANT.
I Palgrave, in his work on Central and Eastern
Arabia, mentions a plant whose seed produces
effects analogous to those of laughing gas.
The plant is a native of Arabia. A dwarf
variety is found in Kasum, and another variety at
Oman, which attains a height of from 3 ft to 4 ft.
with woody stems, wide-spreading branches and
j green foliage.
| The flowers are produced in clusters, and are
: yellow in colour. The seed pods contain two or
(three black seeds of the size and shape of a French
I bean.
; Their flavour is a little like that of opium, the
j taste is sweet and the odour from them produces a
sickening sensation, and is slightly offensive.
These seeds, when pulverised and taken in small
doses, operate upon a person in a very peculiar
manner.
He begins to laugh loudly and boisterously and
then sings, dances, and cuts up all kinds of fan-
j tastic capers. The effect continues about an hour,
and the patient is extremely comical.
When the excitement ceases the exhausted indi-
| vidual falls into a deep sleep, which continues for
[an hour or more, and when he awakens he is
utterly unconscious that any such demonstrations
! have been made by him.
| ■ ■
The Alkahest.
IV.
Two years after the winter when Monsieur Claes
returned to chemistry, the aspect of his house was
changed. Whether it were that society was affronted by
his perpetual absent-mindedness and chose to think it¬
self in the way, or that Madame Claes's secret anxieties
made her less agreeable than before, certain it is that
she no longer saw an}' but her intimate friends. Bal¬
thazar went nowhere, shut himself up in his laboratory
all day, sometimes stayed there all night, and only ap¬
peared in the bosom of his family at dinner-time.
After the second year he no longer passed the sum¬
mer at his country-house, and his wife was unwilling
to live , there alone. Sometimes he went to walk and
did not return till the following day, leaving Madame
Claiis a prey to mortal anxiety during the night.
After causing a fruitless search for him through the
town, whose gates, like those of other fortified places,
were closed at night, it was impossible to send into the
country, and the unhappy woman could only wait and
suffer till morning. Balthazar, who had forgotten the
hour at which the gates closed, would come tranquilly
The Alkahest, 57
home the next day, quite unmindful of the tortures his
absence had inflicted on his family; and the happiness
of getting him back proved as dangerous an excitement
of feeling to his wife as her fears of the preceding
night. She kept silence and dared not question him,
for when she did so on the occasion of his first absence,
he answered with an air of surprise : —
" Well, what of it? Can I not take a walk?"
Passions never deceive. Madame Claes's anxieties
corroborated the rumors she had taken so much pains
to deny. The experience of her youth had taught her
to understand the polite pity of the world. Resolved
not to undergo it a second time, she withdrew more
and more into the privacy of her own house, now de¬
serted by societ}7 and even bj7 her nearest friends.
Among these many causes of distress, the negligence
and disorder of Balthazar's dress, so degrading to a man
of his station, was not the least bitter to a woman ac¬
customed to the exquisite nicety of Flemish life. At
first Josephine endeavored, in concert with Balthazar's
valet, Lemulquinier, to repair the daily devastation of
his clothing, but even that she was soon forced to give
up. The very day when Balthazar, unaware of the sub¬
stitution, put on new clothes in place of those that were
stained, torn, or full of holes, he made rags of them.
The poor wife, whose perfect happiness had lasted
fifteen years, during which time her jealousy had never
58
The Alkahest.
once been roused, was apparently and suddenly nothing
in the heart where she had lately reigned. Spanish by
race, the feelings of a Spanish woman rose within her
when she discovered her rival in a Science that allured
her husband from her: torments of jealousy preyed
upon her heart and renewed her love. What could she
do against Science? Should she combat that t}Tran-
nous, unyielding, growing power? Could she kill an
invisible rival? Could a woman, limited by nature,
contend with an Idea whose delights are infinite, whose
attractions are ever new ? How make head against the
fascination of ideas that spring the fresher and the
lovelier out of difficulty, and entice a man so far from
this world that he forgets even his dearest loves ?
At last one day, in spite of Balthazar's strict orders,
Madame Claes resolved to follow him, to shut herself
up in the garret where his life was spent, and struggle
hand to hand against her rival by sharing her hus¬
band's labors during the long hours he gave to that
terrible mistress. She determined to slip secretly into
the mysterious laboratory of seduction, and obtain the
right to be there always. Lemulquinier alone had that
right, and she meant to share it with him ; but to pre¬
vent his witnessing the contention with her husband
which she feared at the outset, she waited for an oppor¬
tunity when the valet should be out of the waj-. For a
while she studied the goings and comings of the man
The Alkahest. 59
with angry impatience ; did he not know that which was
denied to her — all that her husband hid from her, all
that she dared not inquire into? Even a servant was
preferred to a wife !
The day came ; she approached the place, trembling,
j-et almost happy. For the first time in her life she
encountered Balthazar's anger. She had hardly opened
the door before he sprang upon her, seized her, threw
her roughly on the staircase, so that she narrowly
escaped rolling to the bottom.
"God be praised! you are still alive!" he cried,
raising her.
A glass vessel had broken into fragments over Ma¬
dame Claes, who saw her husband standing by her, pale,
terrified, and almost livid.
" My dear, I forbade 3^011 to come here," he said, sit¬
ting down on the stairs, as though prostrated. " The
saints have saved 3'our life! By what chance was it
that m3r eyes were on the door when 3'ou opened it?
We have just escaped death."
'' Then I might have been happ3*!" she exclaimed.
" My experiment has failed," continued Balthazar.
" You alone could I forgive for that terrible disappoint¬
ment. I was about to decompose nitrogen. Go back
to 3Tour own affairs."
Balthazar re-entered the laboratoiy and closed the
door.
60
The Alkahest.
"Decompose nitrogen!" said the poor woman as
she re-entered her chamber, and burst into tears.
The phrase was unintelligible to her. . Men, trained
by education to have a general conception of everything,
have no idea how distressing it is for a woman to be
unable to comprehend the thought of the man she loves.
More forbearing than we, these divine creatures do not
let us know when the language of their souls is not
understood by us ; they shrink from letting us feel the
superiority of their feelings, and hide their pain as
gladty as they silence their wishes : but, having higher
ambitions in love than men, they desire to wed not only
the heart of a husband, but his mind.
To Madame Claes the sense of knowing nothing of a
science which absorbed her husband filled her with a
vexation as keen as the beaut}- of a rival might have
caused. The struggle of woman against woman gives
to her who loves the most the advantage of loving
best; but a mortification like this only proved Madame
Claes's powcrlessness and humiliated the feelings by
which she lived. She was ignorant; and she had
reached a point where her ignorance parted her from
her husband. Worse than all, last and keenest torture,
he was risking his life, he was often in danger — near
her, yet far away, and she might not share, nor even
know, his peril. Her position became, like hell, a
moral prison from which there was no issue, in which
The Alkahest.
61
there was no hope. Madame Claes resolved to know
at least the outward attractions of this fatal science,
and she began secretly to stud}*- chemistry in the
books. From this time the family became, as it were,
cloistered.
Such were the successive changes brought by this
dire misfortune upon the family of Claes, before it
reached the species of atrophy in which we find it at
the moment when this history begins.
The situation grew daily more complicated. Like all
passionate women, Madame Claes was disinterested.
Those who truly love know that considerations of
money count for little in matters of feeling and are
reluctantly associated with them. Nevertheless, Jose¬
phine did not hear without distress that her husband
had borrowed three hundred thousand francs upon his
property. The apparent authenticity of the transac¬
tion, the rumors and conjectures spread through the
town, forced Madame Claes, naturally much alarmed,
to question her husband's notary and, disregarding
her pride, to reveal to him her secret anxieties or let
him guess them, and even ask her the humiliating
question, —
" How is it that Monsieur Claes has not told you of
this?"
Happily, the notary was almost a relation, — in this
wise: The grandfather of Monsieur Claes had married
62
The Alkahest.
a, Pierquiu of Antwerp, of the same family as the
Pierquins of Douai. Since the marriage the latter,
though strangers to the Claes, claimed them as cousins.
Monsieur Pierquin, a young man twenty-six years of
age, who had just succeeded to his father's practice,
was the only person who now had access to the House
of Claes.
Madame Balthazar had lived for several months in
such complete solitude that the notary was obliged not
only to confirm the rumor of the disasters, but to give
her further particulars, which were now well known
throughout the town. He told her it was probable that
her husband owed considerable sums of money to the
house which furnished him with chemicals. That house,
after making inquiries as to the fortune and credit of
Monsieur Claes, accepted all his orders and sent the
supplies without hesitation, notwithstanding the heav}'
sums of money which became due. Madame Claes re¬
quested Pierquin to obtain the bill for all the chemicals
that had been furnished to her husband.
Two months later, Messieurs Protez and Chiffreville,
manufacturers of chemical products, sent in a schedule
of accounts rendered, which amounted to over one hun¬
dred thousand francs. Madame Claes and Pierquin.
studied the document with an ever-increasing surprise.
Though some articles, entered in commercial and sci¬
entific terms, were unintelligible to them, they were
The Alkahest.
63
frightened to see entries of precious metals and dia¬
monds of all kinds, though in small quantities. The large
sum total of the debt was explained by the multiplicity
of articles, by the precautions needed in transport¬
ing some of them, more especialty valuable machinery,
by the exorbitant price of certain rare chemicals, and
finally by the cost of instruments made to order after
the designs of Monsieur Claes himself.
'The notary had made inquiries, in his client's inter¬
est, as to Messieurs Protez and ChifFreville, and found
that their known integrity was sufficient guarantee as
to the honesty of their operations with Monsieur Claes,
to whom, moreover, they frequently sent information of
results obtained by chemists in Paris, for the purpose
of sparing him expense. Madame Claes begged the
notaiy to keep the nature of these purchases from the
knowledge of the people of Douai, lest they should de¬
clare the whole thing a mania; but Pierquin replied
that he had already delaj'ed to the very last moment
the notarial deeds which the importance of the sum
borrowed necessitated, in order not to lessen the re¬
spect in which Monsieur Claes was held. He then
revealed the full extent of the evil, telling her plainly
that if she could not find means to prevent her hus¬
band from thus madly making wa}~ with his property, in
six months the patrimonial fortune of the Claes would
be mortgaged to its full value. As for himself, he said.
64
The Alkahest.
the remonstrances he had already made to his cousin,
with all the consideration due to a man so justly re¬
spected, had been wholly unavailing. Balthazar had
replied, once for all, that he was working for the fame
and the fortune of his family.
Thus, to the tortures of the heart which Madame
Claes had borne for two years — one following the other
with cumulative suffering — was now added a dreadful
and ceaseless fear which made the future terrifying.
Women hare presentiments whose accuracy is often mar¬
vellous. Why do they fear so much more than the}7 hope
in matters that concern the interests of this life ? Why
is their faith given only to religious ideas of a future ex¬
istence ? Why do they so ably foresee the catastrophes
of fortune and the crises of fate ? Perhaps the sentiment
which unites them to the men they love gives them a
sense by which they weigh force, measure faculties,
understand tastes, passions, vices, virtues. The per¬
petual study of these causes in the midst of which they
live gives them, no doubt, the fatal power of foreseeing
effects in all possible relations of earthly life. What they
see of the present enables them to judge of the future
with an intuitive ability explained by the perfection of
their nervous system, which allows them to seize the
lightest indications of thought and feeling. Their whole
being vibrates in communion with great moral convul¬
sions. Either they feel, or they see.
The Alkahest.
65
Now, although separated from her husband for over
two years, Madame Claes foresaw the loss of their prop¬
erty. She fully understood the deliberate ardor, the well-
considered, inalterable steadfastness of Balthazar; if it
were indeed true that he was seeking to make gold, he
was capable of throwing his last crust into the crucible
with absolute indifference. But what was he really seek¬
ing? Up to this time •maternal feeling and conjugal
love had been so mingled in the heart of this woman
that the children, equally beloved by husband and wife,
had never come between them. Suddenly she found
herself at times more mother than wife, though hitherto
she had been more wife than mother. However ready
she had been to sacrifice her fortune and even her chil¬
dren to the man who had chosen her, loved her, adored
her, and to whom she was still the only woman in the
world, the remorse she felt for the weakness of her ma¬
ternal love threw her into terrible alternations of feel¬
ing. As a wife, she suffered in heart; as a mother,
through her children ; as a Christian, for all.
She kept silence, and hid the cruel struggle in her
soul. Her husband, sole arbiter of the family fate, was
the master by whose will it must be guided ; he was re¬
sponsible to God only. Besides, could she reproach
him for the use he now made of his fortune, after the
disinterestedness he had shown to her for many happy
years? Was she to judge his purposes? And yet her
66
The Alkahest.
conscience, in keeping with the spirit of the law, told
her that parents were the depositaries and guardians of
property, and possessed no right to alienate the material
welfare of the children. To escape replying to such
stern questions she preferred to shut her eyes, like one
who refuses to see the abyss into whose depths he
knows he is about to fall.
For more than six months her husband had given her
no money for the household expenses. She sold secret¬
ly, in Paris, the handsome diamond ornaments her
brother had given her on her marriage, and placed
the family on a footing of the strictest economy. She
sent away the governess of her children, and even the
nurse of little Jean. Formerly the luxury of carriages
and horses was unknown among the burgher families,
so simple were the}' in their habits, so proud in their
feelings ; no provision for that modern innovation had
therefore been made at the House of Claes, and Bal¬
thazar was obliged to have his stable and coachhouse
in a building opposite to his own house: his present
occupations allowed him no time to superintend that
portion of his establishment, which belongs exclusively
to men. Maclame Claes suppressed the whole expense
of equipages and servants, which her present isolation
from the world rendered unnecessary, and she did so
without pretending to conceal the retrenchment under
any pretext. So far, facts had contradicted her
The Alkahest.
67
assertions, and silence for the future was more becom¬
ing : indeed the change in the family mode of livipg
Called for no explanation in a country where, as in
Flanders, any one who lives up to his income is con¬
sidered a madman.
And yet, as her eldest daughter, Marguerite, ap¬
proached her sixteenth birthday, Madame Claes longed
to procure for her a good marriage, and to place her in
society in a manner suitable to a daughter of the Moli-
nas, the Van Ostrom-Temnincks, and the Casa-Reals.
A few days before the one on which this story opens,
the money derived from the sale of the diamonds had
been exhausted. On the very day, at three o'clock in
the afternoon, as Madame Claes was taking her children
to vespers, she met Pierquin, who was on his way to
see her, and who turned and accompanied her to the
church, talking in a low voice of her situation.
"My dear cousin," he 'Said, "unless I fail in the
friendship which binds me to your familj', I cannot con¬
ceal from you the peril of your position, or refrain from
begging you to speak to 3'our husband. Who but 3*011
can hold him back from the gulf into which he is
plunging? The rents from the mortgaged estates are
not enough to pa3* the interest on the sums he has bor¬
rowed. If he cuts the wood on them he destroys your
last chance of safet3* in the future. M3* cousin Baltha¬
zar owes at this moment thirty thousand francs to the
68
The Alkahest.
house of Protez and Chiffreville. How can you pay
them? What will you live on? If Claes persists in
sending for reagents, retorts, voltaic batteries, and
other such playthings, what will become of you? Your
whole property, except the house and furniture, has been
dissipated in gas and carbon; yesterday he talked of
mortgaging the house, and in answer to a remark of
mine, he cried out, ' The" devil!' It was the first sign
of reason I have known him show for three years."
Madame Claes pressed the notary's arm, and said in
a tone of suffering, '' Keep it secret."
Overwhelmed by these plain words of startling clear¬
ness, the poor woman, pious as she was, could not
pra}'; she sat still on her chair between her children,
with her prayer-book open, but not turning its leaves ;
her mind was sunk in meditations as absorbing as those
of her husband. The Spanish sense of honor, the
Flemish integritj', resounded in her soul with a peal
louder than any organ. The ruin of her children was
accomplished! Between them and their father's honor
she must no longer hesitate. The necessity of a com¬
ing struggle with her husband terrified her; in her eyes
he was so great, so majestic, that the mere prospect of
his anger made her tremble as at a vision of the divine
wrath. She must now depart from the submission she
had sacredly practised as a wife. The interests of her
children compelled her to oppose, in his most cherished
The Alkahest.
69
tastes, the man she. idolized. Must she not daily force
him back to common matters from the higher realms of
Science; drag him forcibly from a smiling future and
plunge him into a materialism hideous to artists and
great men? To her, Balthazar Claes was a Titan of
science, a man big with glory ; he could only have for¬
gotten her for the riches of a mighty hope. Then too,
was he not profoundly wise? she had heard him talk
with such good sense on every subject that he must be
sincere when he declared he worked for the glory and
prosperity of his famity. His love for his wife and
family was not only vast, it was infinite. That feeling
could not be extinct; it was magnified, and reproduced
in another form.
Noble, generous, timid as she was, she prepared her¬
self to ring into the ears of this noble man the word and
the sound of money, to show him the sores of poverty,
and force him to hear cries of distress when he was
listening only for the melodious voice of Fame. Per¬
haps his love for her would lessen ! If she had had no
children, she would bravely and joyously have welcomed
the new destiny her husband was making for her.
"Women who are brought up in opulence are quick to
feel the emptiness of material enjoyments; and when
their hearts, more wearied than withered, have once
learned the happiness of a constant interchange of real
feelings, they feel no shrinking from reduced outward
70
The Alkahest.
circumstances, provided they are still acceptable to the
man who has loved them. Their wishes, their pleasures,
are subordinated to the caprices of that other life out¬
side of their own; to them the only dreadful future is
to lose him.
At this moment, therefore, her children came between
Pcpita and her true life, just as Science had come be¬
tween herself and Balthazar. And thus, when she
reached home after vespers, and threw herself into the
deep armchair before the window of the parlor, she sent
away her children, directing them to keep perfectly
quiet, and despatched a message to her husband,
through Lemulquinier, saying that she wished to see
him. But although the old valet did his best to make his
master leave the laboratory, Balthazar scarcely heeded
him. Madame Claes thus gained time for reflection.
She sat thinking, paying no attention to the hour nor
the light. The thought of owing thirty thousand francs
that could not be paid renewed her past anguish and
joined it to that of the present and the future. This
influx of painful interests, ideas, and feelings overcame
her, and she wept.
As Balthazar entered at last through the panelled
door, the expression of his face seemed to her more
dreadful, more absorbed, more distracted than she had
yet seen it. When he made her no answer she was
magnetized for a moment by the fixity of that blank
The Alkahest. 71
look emptied of all expression, by the consuming ideas
that issued as if distilled from that bald brow. Under
the shock of this impression she wished to die. But
when she heard the callous voice, uttering a scientific
wish at the moment when her heart was breaking, her
courage came back to her; she resolved to struggle
with that awful power which had torn a lover from her
arms, a father from her children, a fortune from their
home, happiness from all. And yet she could not re¬
press a trepidation which made her quiver; in all her
life no such solemn scene as this had taken place. This
dreadful moment — did it not virtually contain her
future, and gather within it all the past?
Weak and timid persons, or those whose excessive
sensibility magnifies the smallest difficulties of life,
men who tremble involuntarily before the masters of
their fate, can now, one and all, conceive the rush of
thoughts that crowded into the brain of this woman,
and the feelings under the weight of which her heart
was crushed as her husband slowly crossed the room
towards the garden-door. Most women know that
agony of inward deliberation in which Madame Claes
was writhing. Even one whose heart has been tried
by nothing worse than the declaration to a husband of
some extravagance, or a debt to a dress-maker, will
understand how its pulses swell and quicken when the
matter is one of life itself.
72
The Alkahest.
A beautiful or graceful woman might have thrown her¬
self at her husband's feet, might have called to her aid
the attitudes of grief; but to Madame Claes the sense
of ph}rsical defects only added to her fears. When she
saw Balthazar about to leave the room, her impulse
was to spring towards him ; then a cruel thought re¬
strained her — she should stand before him! would
she not seem ridiculous in the eyes of a man no longer
under the glamour of love — who might see true ?
She resolved to avoid all dangerous chances at so
solemn a moment, and remained seated, saying in a
clear voice,
" Balthazar."
He turned mechanically and coughed; then, paying
no attention to his wife, he walked to one of the little
square boxes that are placed at intervals along the
wainscoting of every room in Holland and Belgium,
and spat in it. This man, who took no thought of
other persons, never forgot the inveterate habit of using
those boxes. To poor Josephine, unable to find a rea¬
son for this singularity, the constant care which her
husband took of the furniture caused her at all times
an unspeakable pang, but at this moment the pain was
so violent that it put her beside herself and made her
exclaim in a tone of impatience, which expressed her
wounded feelings,—
" Monsieur, I am speaking to you! "
The Alkahest,
73
" What does that mean? " answered Balthazar, turn¬
ing quickly, and casting a look of reviving intelligence
upon his wife, which fell upon her like a thunderbolt.
" Forgive me, my friend," she said, turning pale.
She tried to rise and put out her hand to him, hut her
strength gave way and she fell back. "Iam dying! "
she cried in a voice choked by sobs.
At the sight Balthazar had, like all abstracted per¬
sons, a vivid reaction of mind; and he divined, so to
speak, the secret cause of this attack. Taking Madame
Claes at once in his arms, he Opened the door upon the
little antechamber, and ran so rapidly up the ancient
wooden staircase that his wife's dress having caught on
the jaws of one of the griffins that supported the balus¬
trade, a whole breadth was torn off with a loud noise.
He kicked in the door of the vestibule between their
chambers, but the door of Josephine's bedroom was
locked.
He gently placed her on a chair, saying to himself,
" My God ! the key, where is the key ? "
"Thank you, dear friend," said Madame Claes,
opening her eyes. "This is the first time for a long,
long while that I have been so near your heart."
" Good God ! " cried Claes, " the kej'! —here come
the servants."
Josephine signed to him to take a key that hung
from a ribbon at her waist. After opening the door,
74
The Alkahest.
Balthazar laid his wife on a sofa, and left the room to
stop the frightened servants from coming up by giving
them orders to serve the dinner; he then went back to
Madame Claes.
"What is it, my dear life?" he said, sitting down
beside her, and taking her hand and kissing it.
"Nothing — now," she answered. "I suffer no
longer. Only, I would I had the power of God to pour
all the gold of the world at thy feet."
"Why gold?" he asked. He took her in his arms,
pressed her to him and kissed her once more upon the
forehead. " Do you not give me the greatest of all
riches in loving me as you do love me, my dear and
precious wife ? "
"Oh! my Balthazar, will you not drive away the
anguish of our lives as your voice now drives out the
misery of my heart? At last,, at last, I see that you
are still the same."
" What anguish do you speak of, dear?"
" My friend, we are ruined."
"Ruined!" he repeated. Then, with a smile, he
stroked her hand, holding it within his own, and said
in his tender voice, so long unheard: "To-morrow,
dear love, our wealth may perhaps be limitless. Yester¬
day, in searching for a far more important secret, I
think I found the means of crystallizing carbon, the sub¬
stance of the diamond. Oh, my dear wife! in a few
The Alkahest.
75
clays' time you will forgive me all my forgetfulness — I
am forgetful sometimes, am I not? Was I not harsh to
you just now ? Be indulgent for a man who never ceases
to think of j*ou, whose toils are full of you — of us."
" Enough, enough ! " she said, " let us talk of it all
to-night, dear friend. I suffered from too much grief,
and now I suffer from too much joy."
"To-night," he resumed; "yes, willingly: we will
talk of it. If I fall into meditation, remind me of this
promise. To-night I desire to leave my work, my re¬
searches, and return to family joys, to the delights of
the heart — Pepita, I need them, I thirst for them! "
" You will tell me what it is you seek, Balthazar?"
" Poor child, you cannot understand it."
"You think so? Ah ! my friend, listen ; for nearly
four months I have studied chemistry that I might talk
of it with you. I have read Fourcroy, Lavoisier, Chap-
tal, Nollet, Rouelle, Berthollet, Gay-Lussac, Spallan-
zani, Leuwenhoek, Galvani, Volta,—in fact, all the
books about the science you worship. You can tell me
your secrets, I shall understand you."
'' Oh! you are indeed an angel," cried Balthazar,
falling at her feet, and shedding tears of .tender feeling
that made her quiver. "Yes, we will understand each
other in all things."
" Ah! " she cried, " I would throw myself into those
hellish fires which heat your furnaces to hear these
76
The Alkahest.
words from your lips and to see you thus." Then,
hearing her daughter's step in the anteroom, she sprang
quickly forward. "What is it, Marguerite?" she said
to her eldest daughter.
" My dear mother, Monsieur Pierquin has just come.
If he stays to dinner we need some' table-linen; you
forgot to give it out this morning." •
Madame Claes drew from her pocket a bunch of small
keys and gave them to the young girl, pointing to the ma¬
hogany closets which lined the ante-chamber as she said:
" My daughter, take a set of the Graindorge linen;
it is on your right."
" Since my dear Balthazar comes back to me, let the
return be complete," she said, re-entering her chamber
with a soft and arch expression upon her face. " My
friend, go into your own room ; do me the kindness to
dress for dinner, Pierquin will be with us. Come, take
off this ragged clothing; see those stains ! Is it muri¬
atic or sulphuric acid which left these yellow edges to
the holes? Make yourself young again,—I will send
3*ou Mulquinier as soon as I have changed my dress."
Balthazar attempted to pass through the door of
communication, forgetting that it was locked on his
side. He went out through the anteroom.
"Marguerite, put the linen- on a chair, and come
and help me dress; I don't want Martha," said Ma¬
dame Claes, calling her daughter.
The Alkahest.
77
Balthazar had caught Marguerite and turned her
towards him with a joyous action, exclaiming: " Good-
evening, my child; how pretty you are in your muslin
gown and that pink sash! " Then he kissed her forehead
and pressed her hand.
". Mamma, 'papa has kissed me !" cried Marguerite,
running into her mother's room. " He seems so joj'ous,
so happ}'!"
''My child, your father is a great man; for three
years he has toiled for the fame and fortune of his
family: he thinks he has attained the object of his
search. This day is a festival for us all."
"My dear mamma," replied Marguerite, "we shall
not be alone in our jo3r, for the servants have been so
grieved to see him unlike himself. Oh! put on another
sash, this is faded."
" So be it; but make haste, I want to speak to Pier-
quin. Where is he ?"
" In the parlor, playing with Jean."
" Where arc Gabriel and Felicie? "
" I hear them in the garden."
"Run down quickly and see that the3T do not pick
the tulips ; your father has not seen them in flower this
year, and he may take a fanc3T to look at them after
dinner. Tell Mulquinier to go up and assist your
father in dressing."
78
The Alkahest.
V.
As Marguerite left the room, Madame Claes glanced
at the children through the windows of her chamber,
which looked on the garden, and saw that they were
watching one of those insects with shining wings spotted
with gold, commonly called " darning-needles."
" Be good, my darlings," she said, raising the lower
sash of the window and leaving it up to air the room.
Then she knocked gently on the door of communication,
to assure herself that Balthazar had not fallen into ab¬
straction. He opened it, and seeing him half-dressed,
she said in joyous tones : —
" You won't leave me long with Pierquin, will you?
Come as soon as you can."
Her step was so light as she descended that a listener
would never have supposed her lame.
" When monsieur carried madarne upstairs," said
the old valet, whom she met on the staircase, "he
tore this bit out of her dress, and he broke the jaw of
that griffin; I'm sure I don't know who can put it
011 again. There'sour staircase ruined — and it used
to be so handsome !"
The Alkahest. 79
"Never mind, my poor Mulquinier; don't have it
mended at all — it is not a misfortune," said his
mistress.
" What can have happened?" thought Lemulquinier ;
" why isn't it a misfortune, I should like to know? has
the master found the Absolute ? "
"Good-evening, Monsieur Pierquin," said Madame
Claes, opening the parlor door.
The notary rushed forward to give her his arm; as
she never took any but that of her husband she thanked
him with a smile and said, —
" Have you come for the thirty thousand francs?"
" Yes, madame ; when I reached home I found a let¬
ter of advice from Messieurs Protez and Chiffreville,
who have drawn six letters of exchange upon Monsieur
Claes for five thousand francs each."
" Well, say nothing to Balthazar to-day," she replied.
" Stay and dine with us. If he happens to ask why
you came, find some plausible pretext, I entreat you.
Give me the letter. I will speak to him myself about
it. All is well," she added, noticing the lawyer's sur¬
prise. "In a few months ra}T husband will probably
pay off all the sums he has borrowed."
Hearing these words, which were said in a low voice,
the notary looked at Mademoiselle Claes, who was
entering the room from the garden followed by Gabriel
and Felicie, and remarked, —
80
The Alkahest.
"I have never seen Mademoiselle Marguerite as
pretty as she is at this moment."
Madame Claes, who was sitting in her armchair with
little Jean upon her lap, raised her head and looked at
her daughter, and then at the notary, with a pretended
air of indifference.
Pierquin was a man of middle height, neither stout
nor thin, with vulgar good looks, a face that expressed
vexation rather than melancholy, and a pensive habit in
which there was more of indecision than thought. Peo¬
ple called him a misanthrope, but he was too eager after
his own. interests, and too extortionate towards others
to have set up a genuine divorce from the world. His
indifferent demeanor, his affected silence, his habitual
custom of looking, as it were, into the void, seemed to
indicate depth of character, while in fact they merely
concealed the shallow insignificance of a notary busied
exclusively with earthly interests; though he was still
young enough to feel envy. To marry into the family
of Claes would have been to him an object of extreme
desire, if an instinct of avarice had not underlain it.
He could seem generous, but for all that he was a keen
reckoner. And thus, without explaining to himself the
motive for his change of manner, his behavior was
harsh, peremptory, and surly, like that of an ordinary
business man, when he thought the Claes were ruined;
accommodating, affectionate, and almost servile, when
The Alkahest.
81
he saw reason to believe in a happy issue to his cousin's
labors. Sometimes he beheld an infanta in Marguerite
Claes, to whom no provincial notary might aspire ; then
he regarded her as any poor girl too happy if he
deigned to make her his wife. He was a true provin¬
cial, and a Fleming; without malevolence, not devoid
of devotion and kindheartedness, but led by a naive
selfishness which rendered all his better qualities incom¬
plete, while certain absurdities of manner spoiled his
personal appearance.
Madame Claes recollected the curt tone in which the
notary had spoken to her that afternoon in the porch of
the church, and she took note of the change which her
present reply had wrought in his demeanor; she guessed
its meaning and tried to read her daughter's mind by
a penetrating glance, seeking to discover if she thought
of her cousin; but the young girl's manner showed
complete indifference.
After a few moments spent in general conversation
on the current topics of the day, the master of the house
came down from his bedroom, where his wife had heard
with inexpressible delight the creaking sound of his
boots as he trod the floor. The step was that of a young
and active man, and foretold so complete a transfor¬
mation, that the mere expectation of his appearance
made Madame Claes quiver as he descended the stairs.
Balthazar entered, dressed in the fashion of the period.
G
82
The Alkahest.
He wore highly polished top-hoots, which allowed the
upper part of the white silk stockings to appear, blue
kerseymere small-clothes with gold buttons, a flowered
white waistcoat, and a blue frock-coat. He had trimmed
his beard, combed and perfumed his hair, pared his
nails, and washed his hands, all with such care that he
was scarcely recognizable to those who had seen him
lately. Instead of an old man almost decrepit, his
children, his wife, and the notary saw a Balthazar
Claes who was forty years old, and whose courteous and
affable presence was full of its former attractions. The
weariness and suffering betrayed by the thin face and
the clinging of the skin to the bones, had in themselves
a sort of charm.
" Good-evening, Pierquin," said Monsieur Claes.
Once more a husband and a father, he took his
3'oungest child from his wife's lap and tossed him in
the air.
" See that little fellow ! " he exclaimed to the notaiy.
"Doesn't such a pretty creature make you long to
marry? Take my word for it, my dear Pierquin, family
happiness consoles a man for everything. Up, up ! "
he cried, tossing Jean in the air; "down, down! up!
down!"
The child laughed with all his heart as he went alter-
natety to the ceiling and down to the carpet. The
mother turned away her eyes that she might not betray
The Alkahest.
83
the emotion which the simple play caused her, — simple
apparently, but to her a domestic revolution.
'' Let me see how you can walk," said Balthazar,
putting his son on the floor and throwing himself on a
sofa near his wife.
The child ran to its father, attracted by the glitter
of the gold buttons which fastened the breeches just
above the slashed tops of his boots.
" You are a darling ! " cried Balthazar, kissing him ;
" you are a Claes, you walk straight. Well, Gabriel,
how is Pere Morillon? " he said to his eldest son, tak¬
ing him by the ear and twisting it. "Are you strug¬
gling valiantly with your themes and your construing ?
have you taken sharp hold of mathematics ?"
Then he rose, and went up to the notary with the
affectionate courtesy that characterized him.
"My dear Pierquin," he said, "perhaps you have
something to sa}r to me." He took his arm to lead
him to the garden, adding, "Come and see my
tulips."
Madame Claes looked at her husband as he left the
room, unable to repress the joy she felt in seeing him
once more so young, so affable, so truly himself. She
rose, took her daughter round the waist'and kissed her,
exclaiming: —
'' My dear Marguerite, my darling child ! I love you
better than ever to-day."
84
The Alkahest.
" It is long since I have seen my father so kind,"
answered the young girl.
Lernulquinier announced dinner. To prevent Pier-
quin from offering her his arm, Madame Claes took that
of her husband and led the way into the next room, the
whole family following.
The dining-room, whose ceiling was supported by
beams and decorated with paintings cleaned and re¬
stored every year, was furnished with tall oaken side¬
boards and buffets, on whose shelves stood many a
curious piece of family china. The walls were hung
with violet leather, on which designs of game and
other hunting objects were stamped in gold. Carefully
arranged here and there above the shelves, shone the
brilliant plumage of strange birds, and the lustre of rare
shells. The chairs, which evidently had not been
changed since the beginning of the sixteenth century,
showed the square shape with twisted columns and the
low back covered with a fringed stuff, common to that
period, and glorified by Raphael in his picture of the
Madonna della Sedia. The wood of these chairs was
now black, but the gilt nails shone as if new, and the
stuff, carefully renewed from time to time, was of an
admirable shade of red.
The whole life of Flanders with its Spanish innova¬
tions was in this room. The decanters and flasks on
'fr .71 with their graceful antique lines and
The Alkahest.
85
swelling curves, had an air of respectability. The
glasses were those old goblets with stems and feet
which may be seen in the pictures of the Dutch or
Flemish school. The dinner-service of faience, deco¬
rated with raised colored figures, in the manner of Ber¬
nard Palissy, came from the English manufactory of
Wedgwood. The silver-ware was massive, with square
sides and designs in high relief, — genuine family plate,
whose pieces, in every variety of form, fashion, and chas¬
ing, showed the beginnings of prosperity and the progress
towards fortune of the Claes family. The napkins were
fringed, a fashion altogether Spanish; and as for the
linen, it will readily be supposed that the Claes's house¬
hold made it a point of honor to possess the best.
All this service of the table, silver, linen, and glass,
were for the daily use of the family. The front house,
where the social entertainments were given, had its
own especial luxury, whose marvels, being reserved for
great occasions, wore an air of dignity often lost to
things which are, as it were, made common by daily
use. Here, in the home quarter, everything bore the
impress of patriarchal use and simplicity. And — for
a final and delightful detail — a vine grew outside the
house between the windows, whose tendrilled branches
twined about the casements.
"You are faithful to the old traditions, madame,"
said Pierquin, as he received a plate of that celebrated
86
The Alkahest.
thyme soup in which the Dutch and Flemish cooks put
little force-meat balls and dice of fried bread. '' This
is the Sunday soup of our forefathers. Your house and
that of my uncle des Raquets are the only ones where
we still find this historic soup of the Netherlands. Ah !
pardon me, old Monsieur Savaron de Savarus of Tour-
nai makes it a matter of pride to keep up the custom ;
but everywhere else old Flanders is disappearing.
Now-a-days everything is changing; furniture is made
from Greek models ; wherever you go you see helmets,
lances, shields, and bows and arrows! Everybody is
rebuilding his house, selling his old furniture, melting
up his silver dishes, or exchanging them for Sevres
porcelain, — which does not compare with either old
Dresden or with Chinese ware. Oh! as for me, I'm
Flemish to the core; my heart actually bleeds to see
the coppersmiths buying up our beautiful inlaid furni¬
ture for the mere value of the wood and the metal.
The fact is, society wants to change its skin. Every¬
thing is being sacrificed, even the old methods of art.
When people insist on going so fast, nothing is con¬
scientiously done. During my last visit to Paris I was
taken to see the pictures in the Louvre. On my word
of honor, they are mere screen-painting, —no depth, no
atmosphere; the painters were actually afraid to put
colors on their canvas. And it is the}' who talk of
overturning our ancient school of art! Ah, bah! — "
The Alkahest.
87
" Our old masters," replied Balthazar, " studied the
combination of colors and their endurance by submit¬
ting them to the action of sun and rain. You are right
enough, however; the material resources of art are less
cultivated in these days than formerly."
Madame Claes was not listening to the conversa¬
tion. The notary's remark that porcelain dinner-ser¬
vices were now the fashion, gave her the brilliant idea
of selling a quantity of heavy silver-ware which she
had inherited. from her brother, — hoping to be able
thus to pay off the thirty thousand francs which her
husband owed.
" Ha! ha ! " Balthazar was saying to Pierquin when
Madame Claes's mind returned to the conversation,
" so they are discussing my work in Douai, are the}7?"
"Yes," replied the notary, "every one is asking
what it is you spend so much money on. O11I37 3-ester-
day I heard the chief-justice deploring that a man like
you should be searching for the Philosopher's stone.
I ventured to repl}7 that }"0ii were too wise not to
know that such a scheme was attempting the impossi¬
ble, too much of a Christian to take God's work out of
his hands ; and, like every other Claes, too good a busi¬
ness man to spend your mone}7 for such befooling
quackeries. Still, I admit that I share the regret peo¬
ple feel at your absence from societ}7. You might as
well not live here at all. Realh7, madame, }7ou would
88
The Alkahest.
have been delighted had you heard the praises show¬
ered on Monsieur Claes and on you."
"You acted like a faithful friend in repelling impu¬
tations whose least evil is to make me ridiculous,"
said Balthazar. "Ha! so they think me ruined?
Well, my dear Pierquin, two months hence I shall
give a fete in honor of my wedding-day whose mag¬
nificence will get me back the respect my dear towns¬
men bestow on wealth."
Madame Claes colored deeply. For two years the
anniversary had been forgotten. Like madmen whose
faculties shine at times with unwonted brilliancy, Bal¬
thazar was never more gracious and delightful in his
tenderness than at this moment. He was full of atten¬
tion to his children, and his conversation had the
charms of grace, and wit, and pertinence. This return
of fatherly feeling, so long absent, was certainty the
truest fete he could give his wife, for whom his looks
and words expressed once more that unbroken sym¬
pathy of heart for heart which reveals to each a deli¬
cious oneness of sentiment.
Old Lemulquinier seemed to renew his youth; he
came and went about the table with unusual liveliness,
caused by the accomplishment of his secret hopes.
The sudden change in his master's waj's was even more
significant to him than to Madame Claes. Where the
family saw happiness he saw fortune. While helping
The Alkahest.
89
Balthazar in his experiments he had grown to share his
beliefs. Whether he really understood the drift of his
master's researches from certain exclamations which
escaped the chemist when expected results disappointed
him, or whether the innate tendency of mankind to¬
wards imitation made him adopt the ideas of the man
in whose atmosphere he lived, certain it is that Lemul-
quinier had conceived for his master a superstitious
feeling that was a mixture of terror, admiration, and
selfishness. The laboratory was to him what a lottery-
office is to the masses, — organized hope. Every night
he went to bed saying to himself, '' To-morrow we
ma}T float in gold; " and every morning he woke with
a faith as firm as that of the night before.
His name proved that his origin was wholly Flemish.
In former days the lower classes were known by some
name or nickname derived from their trades, their sur¬
roundings, their physical conformation, or their moral
qualities. This name became the patronymic of the
burgher family which each established as soon as he
obtained his freedom. Sellers of linen thread were
called in Flanders " mulqumiers ; " and that no doubt
was the trade of the particular ancestor of the old valet
who passed from a state of serfdom to one of burgher
dignity, until some unknown misfortune had again re¬
duced his present descendant to the condition of a serf,
with the addition of wages. The whole history of
90
The Alkahest.
Flanders and its linen-trade was epitomized in tliis old
man, often called, by way of euphony, Mulquinier.
He was not without originality, either of character or
appearance. His face was triangular in shape, broad
and long, and seamed by small-pox which had left in¬
numerable white and shining patches that gave him a
fantastic appearance. He was tall and thin; his whole
demeanor solemn and mysterious; and his small eyes,
yellow as the wig which was smoothly plastered on his
head, cast none but oblique glances.
The old valet's outward man was in keeping with
the feeling of curiosity which he everywhere in¬
spired. His position as assistant to his master, the
depositary of a secret jealously guarded and about
which he maintained a rigid silence, invested him with
a species of charm. The denizens of the rue de Paris
watched him pass with an interest mingled with awe;
to all their questions he returned sibylline answers big
with mysterious treasures. Proud of being necessary
to his master, he assumed an annoying authority over
his companions, employing it to further his own in¬
terests and compel a submission which made him
virtualty the ruler of the house. Contrary to the cus¬
tom of Flemish servants, who are deeply attached to
the families whom they serve, Mulquinier cared only
for Balthazar. If any trouble befel Madame Claes, or
any joyful event happened to the family, he ate his
The Alkahest.
91
bread and butter and drank hie beer as phlegmatically
as ever.
Dinner over, Madame Claes proposed that coffee
should be served in the garden, by the bed of tulips
which adorned the centre of it. The earthenware pots
in which the bulbs were grown (the name of each flower
being engraved on slate labels) were sunk in the ground
and so arranged as to form a pyramid, at the summit
of which rose a certain dragon's-head tulip which Bal¬
thazar alone possessed. This flower, named tulipa
Olaesiana, combined the seven colors; and the curved
edges of each petal looked as though they were gilt.
Balthazar's father, who had frequently refused ten thou¬
sand florins for this treasure, took such precautions
against the theft of a single seed that he kept the plant
always in the parlor and often spent whole days in con¬
templating it. The stem was enormous, erect, firm,
and admirably green; the proportions of the plant were
in harmony with the proportions of the flower, whose
seven colors were distinguishable from each other with
the clearly defined brilliancy which formerly gave such
fabulous value to these dazzling plants.
".Here you have at least thirty or forty thousand
francs' worth of tulips," said the notary, looking alter¬
nately at Madame Claes and at the many-colored pyra¬
mid. The former was too enthusiastic over the beauty
of the flowers, which the setting sun was just then
92
The Alkahest.
transforming into jewels, to observe the meaning of
the notary's words.
" What good do they do you ? " continued Pierquin,
addressing Balthazar ; " you ought to sell them."
"Bah! am I in want of money?" replied Claes, in
the tone of a man to whom forty thousand francs was
a matter of no consequence.
There was a moment's silence, during which the
children made many exclamations.
" See this one, mamma ! "
" Oh! here's a beauty!"
" Tell me the name of that one ! "
"What a gulf for human reason to sound!" cried
Balthazar, raising his hands and clasping them with a
gesture of despair. "A compound of hydrogen and
oxygen gives off, according to their relative propor¬
tions, under the same conditions and by the same
principle, these manifold colors, each of which consti¬
tutes a distinct result."
His wife heard the words of his proposition, but it
was uttered so rapidly that she did not seize its exact
meaning; and Balthazar, as if remembering that she
had studied his favorite science, made her a mysterious
sign, saying, —
" You do not j'et understand me, but you will."
Then he apparently fell back into the absorbed medi¬
tation now habitual to him.
The Alkahest.
98
"No, I am sure you do not understand him," said
Pierquin, taking his coffee from Marguerite's hand.
" The Ethiopian can't change his skin, nor the leopard
his spots," he whispered to Madame Claes. "Have
the goodness to remonstrate with him later; the devil
himself could n't draw him out of his cogitation now;
he is in it for to-day, at any rate."
So saying, he bade good-by to Claes, who pretended
not to hear him, kissed little Jean in his mother's arms,
and retired with a low bow.
When the street-door clanged behind him, Balthazar
caught his wife round the waist, and put an end to the
uneasiness his feigned revery was causing her by
whispering in her ear, —
'' I knew how to get rid of him."
Madame Claes turned her face to her husband, not
ashamed to let him see the tears of happiness that
filled her eyes : then she rested her forehead against his
shoulder and let little Jean slide to the floor.
"Let us go back into the parlor," she said, after a
pause.
Balthazar was exuberantly gay throughout the even¬
ing. He invented games for the children, and played
with such zest himself that he did not notice two or
three short absences made by his wife. About half-
past nine, when Jean had gone to bed, Marguerite
returned to the parlor after helping her sister Felicie
94
The Alkahest.
to undress, and found lier mother seated in the deep
armchair, and her father holding his wife's hand
as he talked to her. The young girl feared to dis¬
turb them, and was about to retire without speak¬
ing, when Madame Claes caught sight of her, and
said: —
"Come in, Marguerite; come here, dear child."
She drew her down, kissed her tenderly on the fore¬
head, and added, " Carry your book into your own
room; but do not sit up too late."
" Good-night, my darling daughter," said Balthazar.
Marguerite kissed her father and mother and went
away. Husband and wife remained alone for some
minutes without speaking, watching the last glimmer of
the twilight as it faded from .the trees in the garden,
whose outlines were scarcely, discernible through the
gathering darkness. When night had almost fallen,
Balthazar said to his wife in a voice of emotion, —
"Let us go upstairs."
Long before English manners and customs had conse¬
crated the wife's chamber as a sacred spot, that of a
Flemish woman was impenetrable. The good house¬
wives of the Low Countries did not make it a symbol
of virtue. It was to them a habit contracted from child¬
hood, a domestic superstition, rendering the bedroom a
delightful sanctuary of tender feelings, where simplicity
blended with all that was most sweet and sacred in
The Alkahest.
95
social life. Any woman in Madame Claes's position
would have wished to gather about her the elegances of
life, but Josephine had done so with exquisite taste,
knowing well how great an influence the aspect of our
surroundings exerts upon the feelings of others. To
a pretty creature it would have been mere luxury, to
her it was a necessity. No one better understood the
meaning of the saying, " A pretty woman is self-
created," — a maxim which guided every action of Na¬
poleon's first wife, and often made her false; whereas
Madame Claes was ever natural and true.
Though Balthazar knew his wife's chamber well, his
forgetfulness of material things had lately been so com¬
plete that he felt a thrill of soft emotion when he entered
it, as though he saw it for the first time. The proud
gayety of a triumphant woman glowed in the splendid
colors of the tulips which rose from the long throats of
Chinese vases judiciously placed about the room, and
sparkled in the profusion of lights whose effect can only
be compared to a joyous burst of martial music. The
gleam of the wax candles cast a mellow sheen on the
coverings of pearl-gray silk, whose monotony was re¬
lieved by touches of gold, soberty distributed here and
there on a few ornaments, and by the varied colors of
the tulips, which were like sheaves of precious stones.
The secret of this choice arrangement—it was he, ever
he! Josephine could not tell him in words more
Poisoning by Arsenic.—Dr. Brouardel's paper
on " Poisoning by Arsenic " gave rise to a good
discussion at the Paris Congress on Legal
Medicine. Acute cases followed promptly by
urgent symptoms and death were best known in
the practice of forensio medicine; but arsenic
could be administered as a slow poison, and death
might occur six weeks after the victim had
ceased taking arsenic. Nevertheless, the
sjmptoms are much the same in both cases,
varying only in the time of development. These
are, first, troubles of the digestive organs;
secondly, catarrhal bronchial irritation and
eruptions on the skin ; thirdly, loss of sensibiliy,
numbness of the lower limbs, cramps, acute pains
followed by local insensibility; and the fourth
tmd final stage is indicated by paralysis. While
the victim is living, arsenic is easily detected in
the water or linen, and especially in the hair.
At Havre the hair of Madame Decamp, who was
poisoned, was cut and analysed. One hundred
grammes of her hair jielded one milligramme of
Eirsenic. M. Pouchet's experiments had proved
;bat long after all trace of arsenic had dis¬
appeared in the viscera, it could easily be found
in the spongy tissues of the bones. Being thus
preserved in the bones, its presence could be
:roved long after burial, and after the greater
:art of the body was already decomposed. It is
Especially the arsenic given in small doses that
ocates itself in the bones. By analysing the bones
,he Congress was of opinion that there should be
10 difficulty in'detecting arsenical poisoning.
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The Alkahest.
97
VI.
At the doorway Josephine turned, and threw to her
husband, who was sitting near the chimney, one of
those gajr smiles with which a sensitive woman whose
soul comes at moments into her face, rendering it beau¬
tiful, gives expression to irresistible hopes. Woman's
greatest charm lies in her constant appeal to the gener¬
osity of man by the admission of a weakness which stirs
his pride and wakens him to the nobler sentiments.
Is not such an avowal of weakness full of magical se¬
duction ? When the rings of the portiere had slipped
with a muffled sound along the wooden rod, she turned
towards Claes, and made as though she would hide her
physical defects by resting her hand upon a chair and
drawing herself gracefully forward. It was calling him
to help her. Balthazar, sunk for a moment in contem¬
plation of the olive-tinted head, which attracted and
satisfied the eye as it stood out in relief against the
soft gray background, rose to take his wife in his arms
and carry her to her sofa. This was what she wanted.
" You promised me," she said, taking his hand which
she held between her own magnetic palms, " to tell me
7
98 The Alkahest.
\
the secret of your researches. Admit, dear friend, that
I am worthy to know it, since I have had the courage
to study a science condemned by the Church that I
might be able to understand you. I am cUrious ; hide
nothing from me. Tell me first how it happened that
you rose one morning anxious and oppressed, when
over night I had left you happy."
" Is it to hear me talk of chetaistry that you have
made yourself so coquettishly delightful?"
" Dear friend, a confidence which puts me in your
inner heart is the greatest of all pleasures for me ; is it
not a communion of souls which gives birth to the
highest happiness of earth? Your love comes back to
me not lessened, pure ; I long to know what dream has
had the power to keep it from me so long. Yes, I am
more jealous of a thought than of all the women in the
world. Love is Vast, but it is not infinite, while Science
has depths unfathomed, to which I will not let you go
alone. I hate all that comes between us. If you win
the glory for which you strive, I must be unhappy; it
will bring you joj', while I — I alone — should be the
giver of your happiness."
"No, my angel, it was not an idea, not a thought;
it was a man that first led me into this glorious path."
" A man! " she cried in terror.
" Do you remember, Pepita, the Polish officer who
stayed with us in 1809?"
The Alkahest.
99
"Do I remember him!" she exclaimed; "I am
often annoyed because my memory still recalls those
eyes, like tongues of fire.darting from coals of hell,
those hollows above the eyebrows, that broad skull
stripped of hair, the upturned moustache, the angular,
worn face ! —• What awful impassiveness in his bear¬
ing ! Ah! surety if there had been a room in any inn
I would never have allowed him to sleep here."
"That Polish gentleman," resumed Balthazar, " was
named Adam de Wierzchownia. When 3'ou left us
alone that evening in the parlor, we happened by
chance to speak of chemistry. Compelled by poverty
to give up the study of that science, he had become a
soldier. It was, I think, by means of a glass of sug¬
ared water that we recognized each other as adepts.
When I ordered Mulquinier to bring the sugar in pieces,
the captain gave a start of surprise. ' Have you stud¬
ied chemistry ?' he .asked. ' With Lavoisier,' I an¬
swered. ' You are happy in being rich and free,' he
cried; then from the depths of his bosom came the sigh
of a man, — one of those sighs which reveal a hell of an¬
guish hidden in the brain or in the heart, a something-
ardent, concentrated, not to be expressed in words.
He ended his sentence with a look that startled me.
After a pause, he told me that Poland being at her
last gasp he had taken refuge in Sweden. There he
had sought consolation for his country's fate in the
100
The Alkahest.
study of chemistry, for which he had always felt an
irresistible-vocation. ' And I see you recognize as I
do,' he added, 'that gum arabic, sugar, and starch,
reduced to powder, each yield a substance absolutely
similar, with, when analyzed, the same qualitative
result.'
"He paused again; and then, after examining me
with a searching eye, he said confidentially, in a low
voice, certain grave words whose general meaning
alone remains fixed on my memory ; but he spoke with
a force of tone, with fervid inflections, with an energy
of gesture, which stirred my very vitals, and struck my
imagination as the hammer strikes the anvil. I will tell
you briefly the arguments he used, which were to me
like the live coal laid by the Almighty upon Isaiah's
tongue; for my studies with Lavoisier enabled me to
understand their full bearing.
" ' Monsieur,' he said, ' the parity of these three sub¬
stances, in appearance so distinct, led me to think that
all the productions of nature ought to have a single
principle. The researches of modern chemistry prove
the truth of this law in the larger part of natural
effects. Chemistry divides creation into two distinct
parts, — organic nature, and inorganic nature. Or¬
ganic nature, comprising as it does all animal and vege¬
table creations which show an organization more or less
perfect, — or, to be more exact, a greater or lesser
The Alkahest.
101
motive power, which gives more or less sensibility, —
is, undoubtedly, the more important part of our earth.
Now, analysis has reduced all the products of this
nature to four simple substances, namely: three gases,
nitrogen, hydrogen, and oxygen, and another simple
substance, non-metallic and solid, carbon. Inorganic
nature, on the contrary, so simple, devoid of movement
and sensation, denied the power of growth (too hastily
accorded to it bjT Linnaeus), possesses fifty-three simple
substances, or elements, whose different combinations
make its products. Is it probable that means should
be more numerous where a lesser number of results are
produced ?
" ' My master's opinion was that these fifty-three pri¬
mary bodies have one originating principle, acted upon
in the past by some force the knowledge of which has
perished to-day, but which human genius ought to redis¬
cover. Well, then, suppose that this force does live and
act again; we have chemical unity. Organic and inor¬
ganic nature would apparently then rest on four essential
principles, — in fact, if we could decompose nitrogen
which we ought to consider a negation, we should have
but three. This brings us at once close upon the great
Ternary of the ancients and of the alchemists of the Mid¬
dle Ages, whom we do wrong to scorn. Modern chem¬
istry is nothing more than that. It is much, and yet
little, — much, because the science has never recoiled
102
The Alkahest.
before difficulty ; little, in comparison with what remains
to be done. Chance has served her well, my noble Sci¬
ence ! Is not that tear of crystallized pure carbon, the
diamond, seemingly the last substance possible to cre¬
ate? The old alchemists, who thought that gold was
decomposable and therefore creatable, shrank from the
idea of producing the diamond. Yet we have discov¬
ered the nature and the law of its composition.
" ' As for me,' he continued, 'I have gone farther
still. An experiment proved to me that the mysterious
Ternary, which has occupied the human mind from
time immemorial, will not be found b}~ physical analy¬
ses, which lack direction to a fixed point. I will relate,
in the first place, the experiment itself.
" ' Sow cress-seed (to take one among the many sub¬
stances of organic nature) in flour of brimstone (to take
another simple substance). Sprinkle the seed with dis¬
tilled water, that no unknown element may reach the
product of the germination. The seed germinates, and
sprouts from a known environment, and feeds only on
elements known by analysis. Cut off the stalks from
time to time, till you get a sufficient quantity to pro¬
duce after burning them enough ashes for the experi¬
ment. Well, by analyzing those ashes, you will obtain
silicic acid, aluminium, phosphate and carbonate of
lime, carbonate of magnesia, the sulphate and carbonate
of potassium, and oxide of iron, precisely as if the
The Alkahest.
103
cress had grown in ordinary earth, beside a brook.
Now, those elements did not exist in the brimstone,
a simple substance which served for soil to the cress,
nor in the distilled water with which the plant was
nourished, whose composition was known. But since
they are no more to be found in the seed itself, we can
explain their presence in the plant only by assuming the
existence of a primary element common to all the sub¬
stances contained in the cress, and also to all those by
which we environed it. Thus the air, the distilled
water, the brimstone, and the various elements which
analysis finds in the cress, namely, potash, lime, mag¬
nesia, aluminium, etc., should have one common prin¬
ciple floating in the atmosphere like light of the sun.
" ' From this unimpeachable experiment,' he cried, ' I
deduce the existence of the Alkahest, the Absolute, —
a substance common to all created things, differentiated
by one primaiy force. Such is the net meaning and
position of the problem of the Absolute, which appears
to me to be "solvable. In it we find the mysterious
Ternary, before whose shrine humanity has knelt from
the dawn of ages, — the primary matter, the medium,
the product. ¥e^ find that terrible number Three in
all things human. It governs religions, sciences, and
laws.
" ' It was at this point,' he went on, ' that poverty
put an end to my researches. You were the pupil of
104
The Alkahest.
Lavoisier, you are rich, and master of your own time ;
I will therefore tell you my conjectures. Listen to the
conclusions my personal experiments have led me to
foresee. The Prime Matter must he the common
principle in the three gases and in carbon. The Me¬
dium must be the principle common to negative and
positive electricity. Proceed to the discovery of the
proofs that will establish those two truths; you will
then find the explanation of all phenomenal existence.
" ' Oh, monsieur !' he cried, striking his brow,' when
I know that I carry here the last word of Creation,
when intuitively I perceive the Unconditioned, is it
living to be dragged hither and thither in the ruck of
men who fly at each other's throats at the word of com¬
mand without knowing what they are doing ? My actual
life is an inverted dream. My body comes and goes and
acts; it moves amid bullets, and cannon, and men; it
crosses Europe at the will of a power I obey and yet
despise. My soul has no consciousness of these acts ;
it is fixed, immovable, plunged in one idea, rapt in that
idea, the Search for the Alkahest, — for that principle
by which seeds that are absolutely alike, growing in the
same environments, produce, some a white, others a
yellow flower. The same phenomenon is seen in silk¬
worms fed from the same leaves, and apparently con¬
stituted exactly alike, — one produces }7ellow silk,
another white; and if we come to man himself, we
The Alkahest.
105
find that children often resemble neither father nor
mother. The logical deduction from this fact surely in¬
volves the explanation of all the phenomena of nature.
" ' Ah, what can be more in harmony with our ideas
of God than to believe he created all things by the
simplest method ? The Pythagorean worship of One,
from which come all other numbers, and which repre¬
sents Primal Matter; that of the number Two, the first
aggregation and the type of all the rest; that of the
number Three, which throughout all time has symbo¬
lized God, — that is to say, Matter, Force, and Pro¬
duct, — are they not an echo, lingering along the ages,
of some confused knowledge of the Absolute? Stahl,
Becker, Paracelsus, Agrippa, all the great Searchers
into occult causes took the Great Triad for their watch¬
word,— in other words, the Ternary. Ignorant men
who despise alchemy, that transcendent chemistry, are
not aware that our work is only carrying onward the
passionate researches of those great men. Had I found
the Absolute, the Unconditioned, I meant to have
grappled with Motion. Ah! while I am swallowing
gunpowder and leading men uselessly to their death,
my former master is piling discovery upon discovery!
he is soaring towards the Absolute, while I — I shall
die like a dog in the trenches!'
'' When this poor grand man recovered his compo¬
sure, he said, in a touching tone of brotherhood, ' If I
106
The Alkahest.
see cause for a great experiment I will bequeath it to
you before I die.'—My Pepita," cried Balthazar, taking
his wife's hands, "tears of anguish rolled down his
hollow cheeks, as he cast into my soul the fiery argu¬
ments that .Lavoisier had timidly recognized without
daring to follow them out — "
" Oh!". cried Madame Claes, unable to refrain from
interrupting her husband, "that man, passing one
night under our roof, was able to deprive us of your
love, to destroy with a phrase, a word, the happiness
of a family! Oh, my dear Balthazar, did he make
the sign of the cross? did you examine him? The
Tempter alone could have had that flaming eye which
sent forth the fire of Prometheus. Yes, none but the
Devil could have torn you from me. From that day
you have been neither husband, nor father, nor master
of your family."
" What!" exclaimed Balthazar, springing to his feet
and casting a piercing glance at his wife, "do you
blame your husband for rising above the level of other
men that he may lay at your feet the divine purple of
his glory, as a paltry offering in exchange for the treas¬
ures of your heart! Ah, my Pepita," he cried, "you
do not know what I have done. In these three years
I have made giant strides — "
His face seemed to his wife at this moment more
transfigured under the fires of genius than she had ever
The Alkahest.
107
seen it under the fires of love; and she wept as she
listened to him.
" I have combined chlorine and nitrogen ; I have de¬
composed many substances hitherto considered simple ;
I have discovered new metals. Why!" he continued,
noticing that his wife wept, "I have even- decom¬
posed tears. Tears contain a little phosphate of lime,
chloride of sodium, mucin, and water."
He went on speaking, without observing the spasm
of pain that contracted Josephine's features; he was
again astride of Science, which bore him with outspread
wings far away from material existence.
"This anatysis, my dear," he went on, "is one of
the most convincing proofs of the theory of the Abso¬
lute. All life involves combustion. According to the
greater or the lesser activity of the fire on its hearth
is life more or less enduring. In like manner, the de¬
struction of mineral bodies is indefinitely retarded,
because in their case combustion is nominal, latent,
or imperceptible. In like manner, again, vegetables,
which are constantly revived by combinations producing
dampness, live indefinitely; in fact, we still possess
certain vegetables which existed before the period of
the last cataclysm. But each time that nature has
perfected an organism and then, for some unknown
reason, has introduced into it sensation, instinct, or in¬
telligence (three marked stages of the organic system).,
108
The Alkahest.
these three agencies necessitate a combustion whose
activity is in direct proportion to the result obtained.
Man, who represents the highest point of intelligence,
and who offers us the only organism by which we
arrive at a power that is semi-creative — namely,
Thought — is, among all zoological creations, the one
in which combustion is found in its most intense de¬
gree ; whose powerful effects may in fact be seen to
some extent in the phosphates, sulphates, and carbo¬
nates which man's body reveals to our analysis. May
not these substances be traces left within him of the
passage of the electric fluid which is the principle of
all fertilization? Would not electricity manifest itself
by a greater variety of compounds in him than in any
other animal? Should not he have faculties above
those of all other created beings for the purpose of
absorbing fuller portions of the Absolute principle?
and may he not assimilate that principle so as to pro¬
duce, in some more perfect mechanism, his force and
his ideas? I think so. Man is a retort. In my
judgment, the brain of an idiot contains too little
phosphorus or other product of electro-magnetism,
that of a madman too much; the brain of an or¬
dinary man has but little, while that of a man of
genius is saturated to its due degree. The man
constantly in love, the street-porter, the dancer, the
large eater, are the ones who disperse the force
The Alkahest.
109
resulting from their electrical apparatus. Consequently,
our feelings — "
"Enough, Balthazar! you terrify me; you commit
sacrilege. What, is my love — "
"An ethereal matter disengaged, an emanation, the
key of the Absolute. Conceive if I—I, the first,
should find it, find it, find it! "
As he uttered the words in three rising tones, the ex¬
pression of his face rose by degrees to inspiration. " I
shall make metals,"he cried; "I shall make diamonds,
I shall be a co-worker with Nature ! "
"Will you be the happier?" she asked in despair.
"Accursed science! accursed demon! You forget,
Claes, that you commit the sin of pride, the sin of which
Satan was guilty; you assume the attributes of God."
"Oh! oh! God!"
"He denies Him!" she cried, wringing her hands.
" Claes, God wields a power that you can never gain."
At this argument, which seemed to discredit his be¬
loved Science, he looked at his wife and trembled.
" What power?" he asked.
"Primal force — motion," she replied. "This is
what I learn from the books your mania has constrained
me to read. Analyze fruits, flowers, Malaga wine ; you
will discover, undoubtedly, that their substances come,
like those of your water-cress, from a medium that
seems foreign to them. You can, if need be, find them
110
The Alkahest.
in nature; but when you have them, can you combine
them? can you make the flowers, the fruits, the Malaga
wine? Will you have grasped the inscrutable effects
of the sun, of the atmosphere of Spain? Ah! decom¬
posing is not creating."
" If I discover the magistral force, I shall be able to
create."
" Will nothing stop him? " cried Pepita. "Oh! my
love, my love ! it is killed! I have lost him ! "
She wept bitterly, and her eyes, illumined by grief
and by the sanctity of the feelings that flooded her soul,
shone with greater beauty than ever through her tears.
"Yes," she resumed in a broken voice, "you are
dead to all. I see it but too well. Science is more
powerful within you than your own self; it bears you to
heights from which you will return no more to be the
companion of a poor woman. What joys can I still
offer you? Ah! I would fain believe, as a wretched
consolation, that God has indeed created you to make
manifest his works, to chant his praises; that he has
put within your breast the irresistible power that has
mastered you — But no ; God is good ; he would keep
in your heart some thoughts of the woman who adores
3'ou, of the children 3*011 are bound to protect. It is the
Evil One alone who is helping 3rou to walk amid these
fathomless abysses, these clouds of outer darkness,
where the light of faith does not guide 3'ou, — nothing
The Alkahest.
Ill
guides you but a terrible belief in your own faculties!
Were it otherwise, would you not have seen that you
have wasted nine hundred thousand francs in three
j-ears? Oh! do me justice, you, my God on earth! I
reproach you not; were we alone I would bring you,
on my knees, all that I possess and say, ' Take it,
fling it into your furnace, turn it into smoke;' and I
should laugh to see it float away in vapor. Were you
poor, I would beg without shame for the coal to light
your furnace. Oh! could my body 3Tield your hateful
Alkahest, I would fling myself upon those fires with jo}',
since your glory,, your delight is in that unfound secret.
But our children, Claes, our children! what will become
of them if you do not soon discover this hellish thing?
Do you know why Pierquin came to-day ? He came for
thirty thousand francs, which you owe and cannot pay.
I told him that you had the money, so that I might
spare you the mortification of his questions; but to
get it I must sell our family silver."
She saw her husband's eyes grow moist, and she
flung herself despairingly at his feet, raising up to him
her supplicating hands.
" My friend," she cried, "refrain awhile from these
researches ; let us economize, let us save the money that
may enable you to take them up hereafter, — if, indeed,
you cannot renounce this work. Oh! I do not condemn
it; I will heat your furnaces if }'OU ask it; but I implore
112
The Alkahest.
you, do not reduce our children to beggary. Perhaps
you cannot love them, Science may have consumed your
heart; but oh! do not bequeath them a wretched life in
place of the happiness you owe them. Motherhood has
sometimes been too weak a power in my heart; yes, I
have sometimes wished I were not a mother, that I
might be closer to your soul, your life! And now, to
stifle my remorse, must I plead the cause of my children
before you, and not my own ? "
Her hair fell loose and floated over her shoulders, her
eyes shot forth her feelings as though they had been
arrows. She triumphed over her rival. Balthazar lifted
her, carried her to the sofa, and knelt at her feet.
"Have I caused 3rou such grief?" he said, in the
tone of a man waking from a painful dream.
" My poor Claes ! yes, and you will cause me more,
in spite of yourself," she said, passing her hand over
his hair. " Sit here beside me," she continued, point¬
ing to the sofa. "Ah! I can forget it all now, now
that you come back to us; all can be repaired — but
you will not abandon me again ? say that you will not!
My noble husband, grant me a woman's influence on
your heart, that influence which is so needful to the
happiness of suffering artists, to the troubled minds of
great men. You may be harsh to me, angry with me
if you will, but let me check you a little for your good.
I will never abuse the power if you will grant it. Be
The Alkahest.
113
famous, but be happy too. Do not love Chemistry bet¬
ter than you love us. Hear me, ve will be generous;
we will let Science share 3*our heart; but oh ! my Claes,
be just; let us have our half. Tell me, is not my dis¬
interestedness sublime? "
She made him smile. With the marvellous art such
women possess, she carried the momentous question
into the regions of pleasantly where women reign.
But though she seemed to laugh, her heart was vio¬
lently contracted and could not easily recover the quiet
even action that was habitual to it. And yet, as she
saw in the eyes of Balthazar the rebirth of a love which
was once her glory, the full return of a power she thought
she had lost, she said to him with a smile : —
" Believe me, Balthazar, nature made us to feel; and
though 3*011 may wish us to be mere electrical machines,
yet your gases and 3*our ethereal disengaged matters
will never explain the gift we possess of looking into
futurit3*."
"Yes," he exclaimed, " b3>- affliiit3*. The power of
vision which makes the poet, the power of deduction
which makes the man of science, are based on invisible
affinities, intangible, imponderable, which vulgar minds
class as moral phenomena, whereas thc3' are physical
effects. The prophet sees and deduces. Unfortu¬
nate^', such affinities are too rare and too obscure to
be subjected to anah*sis or observation."
S
114
The Alkahest.
" Is this," she said, giving him a kiss to drive away
the Chemistry she had so unfortunately reawakened,
" what you call an affinity ? "
"No; it is a compound; two substances that are
equivalents are neutral, they produce no reaction — "
"Oh! hush, hush," she cried, " you will make me
die of grief. I can never bear to see fny rival in the
transports of j^our love."
"But, my dear life, I think only of you. My work
is for the glory of my family. You are the basis of all
my hopes."
" Ah, look me in the eyes ! "
The scene had made her as beautiful as a young
woman; of her whole person Balthazar saw only her
head, rising from a cloud of lace and muslin.
"Yes, I have done wrong to abandon you for Sci¬
ence," he said. "If I fall back into thought and pre¬
occupation, then, my Pepita, you must drag me from
them; I desire it."
She lowered her eyes and let him take her hand, her
greatest beauty, — a hand that was both strong and
delicate.
" But I ask more," she said.
"You are so lovety, so delightful, you can obtain
all," he answered.
''• I wish to destroy that laboratory, and chain up
Science," she said, with fire in her eyes.
The Alkahest. 115
" So be it — let Chemistry go to the devil!"
" This moment effaces all!" she cried. " Make me
suffer now, if you will."
Tears came to Balthazar's eyes, as he heard these
words.
" You were right, love," he said. " I have seen you
through a veil; I have not understood 3*011."
"If it concerned only me," she said, "willingly
would I have suffered in silence, never would I have
raised my voice against my sovereign. But your sons
must be thought of, Claes. If 3*011 continue to dissi¬
pate 3*our propert}*, no matter how glorious the object
3'ou have in view the world will take little account of
it, it will only blame you and 3'ours. But surely, it is
enough for a man of 3*our noble nature that his wife
has shown him a danger he did not perceive. We will
talk of this no more," she cried, with a smile and a
glance of coquetry. "To-night, my Claes, let us not
be less than happ3T."
The report of Dr. Jujardin-Beaumetz upon
hydrophobia m the Department of the Seine,
shows that under Pasteur's treatment the death-
rate in hydrophobia had been lowered from four¬
teen to sixteen per cent, reported some years ago
by Drs. Brouardel and Leblanc to only 1*04 per
cent. The statistics of the Institut Pasteur for
the year ending May 1, 1889, have just been pre¬
sented to the Academie des Sciences, ,and they
show a considerable reduction even of the last low
figure. During the year, sixteen hundred and
seventy-three patients, who had been bitten by
animals believed to be mad, received inoculation
at the institute; of these, only thirteen died—three
after treatment, and ten while the treatment was
still going on. This brings the rate of mortarity
down ro a little Jess thnrr^ per cent.
116
The Alkahest.
VII.
Ox the morrow of this evening so eventful for the
Claes family, Balthazar, from whom Josephine had
doubtless obtained some promise as to the cessation
of his researches, remained in the parlor, and did not
enter his laboratory. The succeeding day the house¬
hold prepared to move into the countiy, where they
stayed for more than two months, only returning to
town in time to prepare for the fete which Claes deter¬
mined to give, as in former years, to commemorate his
wedding day. He now began by degrees to obtain
proof of the disorder which his experiments and his
indifference had brought into his business affairs.
Madame Claes, far from irritating the wound by re¬
marking on it, continually found remedies for the evil
that was done. Of the seven servants who customarily
served the family, there now remained only Lemul-
quinier, Josette the cook, and an old waiting-woman,
named Martha, who had never left her mistress since
the latter left her convent. It was of course impossible
to give a fete to the whole society of Douai with so few
The Alkahest.
117
servants, but Madame Claes overcame all difficulties
by proposing to send to Paris for a cook, to train the
gardener's son as a waiter, and to borrow Pierquin's
manservant. Thus the pinched circumstances of the
family passed unnoticed by the community.
During the twentj7 days of preparation for the fete,
Madame Claes was cleverly able to outwit her husband's
listlessness. She commissioned him to select the rarest
plants and flowers to decorate the grand staircase, the
gallery, and the salons ; then she sent him to Dunkerque
to order one of those monstrous fish which are the glory
of the burgher tables in the northern departments. A
fete like that the Claes were about to give is a serious
affair, involving thought and care and active corre¬
spondence, in a land where traditions of hospitality
put the family honor so much at stake that to servants
as well as masters a grand dinner is like a victory won
over the guests. Oysters arrived from Ostend, grouse
were imported from Scotland, fruits came from Paris;
in short, not the smallest accessoiy wras lacking to the
hereditary luxury.
A ball at the House of Claes had an importance of its
own. The government of the department was then at
Douai, and the anniversary fete of the Claes usually
opened the winter season and set the fashion to the
neighborhood. For fifteen years, Balthazar had en¬
deavored to make it a distinguished occasion, and had
118
The Alkahest.
succeeded so well that the fete was talked of throughout
a circumference of sixty miles, and the toilettes, the
guests, the smallest details, the novelties exhibited, and
the events that took place, were discussed far and wide.
These preparations now prevented Claes from thinking,
for the time being, of the Alkahest. Since his return
to social life and domestic ideas, the servant of science
had recovered his self-love as a man, as a Fleming, as
the master of a household, and he now took pleasure in
the thought of surprising the whole country. He re¬
solved to give a special character to this ball by some
exquisite novelty; and he chose, among all other caprices
of luxury, the loveliest, the richest, and the most fleet¬
ing, — he turned the old mansion into a fairy bower of
rare plants and flowers, and prepared choice bouquets
for all the ladies.
The other details of the fete were in keeping with this
unheard-of luxury, and nothing seemed likely to mar the
effect. But the Twenty-ninth Bulletin and the news of
the terrible disasters of the grand army in Russia, and
at the passage of the Beresina, were made known on
the afternoon of the appointed day. A sincere and
profound grief was felt in Douai, and those who were
present at the fete, moved by a natural feeling of patri¬
otism, unanimously declined to dance.
Among the letters which arrived that day in Douai,
was one for Balthazar from Monsieur de Wierzchownia,
The Alkahest.
119
then in Dresden and dying, he wrote, from wounds
received in one of the late engagements. He remem¬
bered his promise, and desired to bequeath to his former
host several ideas 011 the subject of the Absolute, which
had come to him since the period of their meeting. The
letter plunged Claes into a revery which apparently did
honor to his patriotism ; but his wife was not misled by
it. To her, this festal day brought a double mourning:
and the ball, during which the House of Claes shone
with departing lustre, was sombre and sad in spite of
its magnificence, and the many choice treasures gath¬
ered by the hands of six generations, which the people
of Douai now beheld for the last time.
Marguerite Claes, just sixteen, was the queen of the
day, and on this occasion her parents presented her to
society. She attracted all eyes by the extreme simplicity
and candor of her air and manner, and especially by the
harmony of her form and countenance with the charac¬
teristics of her home. She was the embodiment of the
Flemish girl whom the painters of that country loved to
represent, — the head perfectly rounded and full, chest¬
nut hair parted in the middle and laid smoothly on the
brow, gray eyes with a mixture of green, handsome
arms, natural stoutness which did not detract from her
beauty, a timid air, and yet, on the high square brow
an expression of firmness, hidden at present under an
apparent calmness and docility. Without being sad or
120
The Alkahest.
melancholy, she seemed to have little natural enjoy¬
ment. Reflectiveness, order, a sense of duty, the three
chief expressions of Flemish nature, were the charac¬
teristics of a face that seemed cold at first sight, hut to
which the eye was recalled by a certain grace of outline
and a placid pride which seemed the pledges of domes¬
tic happiness. By one of those freaks which physiolo¬
gists have not yet explained, she bore no likeness to
either father or mother, but was the living image of her
maternal great-grandmother, a Con3Tncks of Bruges,
whose portrait, religiously preserved, bore witness to
the resemblance.
The supper gave some life to the ball. If the mili¬
tary disasters forbade the delights of dancing, even7 one
felt that they need not exclude the pleasures of the
table. The true patriots, however, retired early; only
the more indifferent remained, together with a few card-
players and the intimate friends of the familj". Little
by little the brilliantly lighted house, to which all the
notabilities of Douai had flocked, sank into silence, and
by one o'clock in the morning the great gallery was de¬
serted, the lights were extinguished in one salon after
another, and the court-yard, lately so bustling and bril¬
liant, grew dark and gloomy, — prophetic image of the
future that lay before the family. When the Claes re¬
turned to their own appartement, Balthazar gave his
wife the letter he had received from the Polish officer :
The Alkahest.
121
Josephine returned it with a mournful gesture ; she fore¬
saw the coming doom.
From that day forth, Balthazar made no attempt to
disguise the weariness and the depression that assailed
him. In the mornings, after the family breakfast, he
played for awhile in the parlor with little Jean, and
talked to his daughters, who were busy with their sew¬
ing, or embroidery or lace-work; but he soon wearied
of the play and of the talk, and seemed at last to get
through with them as a duty. When his wife came
down again after dressing, she always found him sitting
in an easy-chair looking blankly at Marguerite and
Felicie, quite undisturbed by the rattle of their bobbins.
When the newspaper was brought in, he read it slowly
like a retired merchant at a loss how to kill the time.
Then he would get up, look at the sky through the
window panes, go back to his chair and mend the fire
drearily, as though he were deprived of all conscious¬
ness of his own movements by the tyranny of ideas.
Madame Claes keenly regretted her defects of edu¬
cation and memory. It was difficult for her to sustain
an interesting conversation for any length of time ; per¬
haps this is always difficult between two persons who
have said everything to each other, and are forced to
seek for subjects of interest outside the life of the
heart, or the life of material existence. The life of
the heart has its own moments of expansion which
122
The Alkahest.
need some stimulus to bring them forth; discussions of
material life cannot long occupy superior minds accus¬
tomed to decide promptly; and the mere gossip of so-
ciet}* is intolerable to loving natures. Consequently,
two isolated beings who know each other thoroughly
ought to seek their enjoyments in the higher regions
of thought; for it is impossible to satisfy with paltry
things the immensity of the relation between them.
Moreover, when a man has accustomed himself to deal
with great subjects, he becomes unamusable, unless he
preserves in the depths of his heart a certain guileless
simplicity and unconstraint which often make great
geniuses such charming children; but the childhood of
the heart is a rare human phenomenon among those
whose mission it is to see all, know all, and compre¬
hend all.
During these first months, Madame Claes worked her
way through this critical situation, by unwearying ef¬
forts, which love or necessity suggested to her. She
tried to learn backgammon, which she had never been
able to play, but now, from an impetus easy to under¬
stand, she ended by mastering it. Then she interested
Balthazar in the education of his daughters, and asked
him to direct their studies. All such resources were,
however, soon exhausted. There came a time when
Josephine's relation to Balthazar was like that of Ma¬
dame de Maintenon to Louis XIV. ; she had to amuse
The Alkahest.
123
the unamusable, but without the pomps of power or
the wiles of a court which could play comedies like
the sham embassies from the King of Siam and the
Shah of Persia. After wasting the revenues of France,
Louis XIV., no longer young or successful, was reduced
to the expedients of a family heir to raise the money he
needed; in the midst of his grandeur he felt his impo¬
tence, and the royal nurse who had rocked the cradles
of his children was often at her wit's end to rock his, or
soothe the monarch now suffering from his misuse of
men and things, of life and God. Claes, on the con¬
trary, suffered from too much power. Stifling in the
clutch of a single thought, he dreamed of the pomps of
Science, of treasures for the human race, of glory for
himself. He suffered as artists suffer in the grip of
poverty, as Samson suffered beneath the pillars of the
temple. The result was the same for the two sov¬
ereigns ; though the intellectual monarch was crushed
by his inward force, the other by his weakness.
What could Pepita do, singly, against this species of
scientific nostalgia ? After employing every means that
family life afforded her, she called society to the rescue,
and gave two "cafes" every week. Cafes at Douai
took the place of teas. A cafe was an assemblage
at which, during a whole evening, the guests sipped the
delicious wines and liqueurs which overflow the cellars
of that ever-blessed land, ate the Flemish dainties and
124
The Alkahest.
took their cafe noir or their cafe au lait frappe, while
the women sang ballads, discussed each other's toilettes,
and related the gossip of the day. It was a living pic¬
ture by Mieris or Terburg, without the pointed gray
hats, the scarlet plumes, or the beautiful costumes of
the sixteenth century. And yet, Balthazar's efforts to
play the part of host, his constrained courtesy, his
forced animation, left him the next day in a state of
languor which showed but too plainly the depths of the
inward ill.
These continual fetes, weak remedies for the real evil,
only increased it. Like branches which caught him as
he rolled down the precipice, they retarded Claes's fall,
but in the end he fell the heavier. Though he never
spoke of his former occupations, never showed the least
regret for the promise he had given not to renew his
researches, he grew to have the melancholy motions,
the feeble voice, the depression of a sick person. The
ennui that possessed him showed at times in the very
manner with which he picked up the tongs and built
fantastic pyramids in the fire with bits of coal, utterly
unconscious of what he was doing. When night came
he was evidently relieved ; sleep no doubt released him
from the importunities of thought: the next day he
rose wearily to encounter another da}r, — seeming to
measure time as the tired traveller measures the desert
he is forced to cross.
The Alkahest.
125
If Madame Claes knew the cause of this languor she
endeavored not to see the extent of its ravages. Full
of courage against the sufferings of the mind, she was
helpless against the generous impulses of the heart.
She dared not question Balthazar when she saw him
listening to the laughter of little Jean or the chatter of
his girls, with the air of a man absorbed in secret
thoughts; but she shuddered when she saw him shake
off his melancholy and try, with generous intent, to seem
cheerful, that he might not distress others. The little
coquetries of the father with his daughters, or his games
with little Jean, moistened the eyes of the poor wife,
who often left the room to hide the feelings that heroic
effort caused her, — a heroism the cost of which is well
understood by women, a generosity that well-nigh breaks
their heart. At such times Madame Claes longed to say,
" Kill me, and do what you will! "
Little by little Balthazar's eyes lost their fire and took
the glaucous opaque tint which overspreads the eyes o.f
old men. His attentions to his wife, his manner of
speaking, his whole bearing, grew heavy and inert.
These symptoms became more marked towards the end
of April, terrifying Madame Claes, to whom the sight
was now intolerable, and who had all along re¬
proached herself a thousand times while she admired
the Flemish loyalty which kept her husband faithful
to his promise.
126
The Alkahest.
At last, one day when Balthazar seemed more de¬
pressed than ever, she hesitated no longer; she resolved
to sacrifice everything and bring him back to life.
" Dear friend," she said, "I release you from your
promise."
Balthazar looked at her in amazement.
"You are thinking of your researches, are you not?"
she continued.
He answered by a gesture of startling eagerness. Far
from remonstrating, Madame Claes, who had had leisure
to sound the abyss into which they were about to fall
together, took his hand and pressed it, smiling.
"Thank you," she said; "now I am sure of my
power. You sacrificed more than your life to me. In
future, be the sacrifices mine. Though I have sold
some of my diamonds, enough are left, with those nry
brother gave me, to get the necessary money for your
experiments. I intended those jewels for my daugh¬
ters, but your glory shall sparkle in their stead; and,
besides, you will some day replace them with other and
finer diamonds."
The joy that suddenly lighted her husband's face was
like a death-knell to the wife: she saw, with anguish,
that the man's passion was stronger than himself.
Claes had faith in his work which enabled him to walk
without faltering on a path which, to his wife, was the
edge of a precipice. For him faith, for her doubt,—
The Alkahest.
127
for her the heavier burden: does not the woman
ever suffer for the two? At this moment she chose
to believe in his success, that she might justify to
herself her connivance in the probable wreck of their
fortunes.
4' The love of all my life can be no recompense for
your devotion, Pepita," said Claes, deeply moved.
He had scarcely uttered the words when Marguerite
and Felicie entered the room and wished him good-
morning. Madame Claes lowered her e}-es and re¬
mained for a moment speechless in presence of her
children, whose future she had just sacrificed to a de¬
lusion ; her husband, on the contraiy, took them on his
knees, and talked to them gayfy delighted to give vent
to the joy that choked him.
From this da}' Madame Claes shared the impassioned
life of her husband. The future of her children, their
father's credit, were two motives as powerful to her as
gloiw and science were to Claes. After the diamonds
were sold in Paris, and the purchase of chemicals was
again begun, the unhappy woman never knew another
hour's peace of mind. The demon of Science and the
frenzy of research which consumed her husband now
agitated her own mind; she lived in a state of contin¬
ual expectation, and 'sat half-lifeless for days together
in the deep armchair, paralyzed by the very violence
of her wishes, which, finding no food, like those of
128
The Alkahest.
Balthazar, in the daily hopes of the laboratory, tor¬
mented her spirit and aggravated her doubts and fears.
Sometimes, blaming herself for compliance with a pas¬
sion whose object was futile and condemned by the
Church, she would rise, go to the window on the court¬
yard and gaze with terror at the chimney of the labora-
torj". If the smoke were rising, an expression of despair
came into her face, a conflict of thoughts and feelings
raged in her heart and mind. She beheld her child¬
ren's future fleeing in that smoke, but — was she not
saving their father's life ? was it not her first duty to
make him happy ? This last thought calmed her for a
moment.
She obtained the right to enter the laboratory and
remain there; but even this melancholy satisfaction
was soon renounced. Her sufferings were too keen
when she saw that Balthazar took no notice of her, or
seemed at times annoyed by her presence ; in that fatal
place she went through paroxysms of jealous impa¬
tience, angry desires to destroy the building, — a living
death of untold miseries. Lemulquinier became to her
a species of barometer: if she heard him whistle as he
laid the breakfast-table or the dinner-table, she guessed
that Balthazar's experiments were satisfactory, and
there were prospects of a coming success; if, on the
other hand, the man were morose and gloomy, she
looked at him and trembled, — Balthazar must surely be
The Alkahest.
129
dissatisfied. Mistress and valet ended by understand¬
ing each other, notwithstanding the proud reserve of
the one and the reluctant submission of the other.
Feeble and defenceless against the terrible prostra¬
tions of thought, the poor woman at last gave way
under the alternations of hope and despair which in¬
creased the distress of the loving wife, and the anxieties
of the mother trembling for her children. She now
practised the doleful silence which formerly chilled her
heart, not observing the gloom that pervaded the house,
where whole days went by in that melancholy parlor
without a smile, often without a word. Led by sad
maternal foresight, she trained her daughters to house¬
hold work, and tried to make them skilful in womanly
employments, that they might have the means of living
if destitution came. The outward calm of this quiet
home covered terrible agitations. Towards the end of
the summer Balthazar had used the money derived from
the diamonds, and was twentj^ thousand francs in debt
to Messieurs Protez and Chiflreville.
In August, 1813, about a year after the scene with
which this history begins, although Claes had made a
few valuable experiments, for which, unfortunately, he
cared but little, his efforts had been without result as to
the real object of his researches. There came a day
when he ended the whole series of experiments, and the
sense of his impotence crushed him; the certainty of
9
130
The Alkahest.
having fruitlessly wasted enormous sums of money
drove him to despair. It was a frightful catastrophe.
He left the garret, descended slowly to the parlor, and
threw himself into a chair in the midst of his children,
remaining motionless for some minutes as though dead,
making no answer to the questions his wife pressed
upon him. Tears came at last to his relief, and he
rushed to his own chamber that no one might witness
his despair.
Josephine followed him and drew him into her own
room, where, alone with her, Balthazar gave vent to
his anguish. These tears of a man, these broken words
of the hopeless toiler, these bitter regrets of the husband
and father, did Madame Claes more harm than all her
past sufferings. The victim consoled the executioner.
"When Balthazar said to her in a tone of dreadful con¬
viction : "I am a wretch; I have gambled away the
lives of my children, and your life; you can have no
happiness unless I kill myself," — the words struck
home to her heart; she knew her husband's nature
enough to fear he might at once act out the despairing
wish: an inward convulsion, disturbing the very sources
of life itself, seized her, and was all the more dangerous
because she controlled its violent effects beneath a de¬
ceptive calm of manner.
" My friend," she said, " I have consulted, not Pier-
quin, whose friendship does not hinder him from feeling
The Alkahest.
181
some secret satisfaction at our ruin, but an old man
who has been as good to me as a father. The Abbe de
Solis, my confessor, has shown me how we can still
save ourselves from ruin. He came to see the pictures.
The value of those in the gallery is enough to pay the
sums you have borrowed on your property, and also all
that you owe to Messieurs Protez and Chiffreville, who
have no doubt an account against you."
Claes made an affirmative sign and bowed his head,
the hair of which was now white.
" Monsieur de Solis knows the Happe and Duncker
families of Amsterdam ; they have a mania for pictures,
and are anxious, like all parvenus, to display a luxury
which ought to belong only to the old families: he
thinks they will pay the full value of ours. By this
means we can recover our independence, and out of the
purchase money, which will amount to over one hundred
thousand ducats, you will have enough to continue the
experiments. Your daughters and I will be content
with very little ; we can fill up the empty frames with
other pictures in course of time and by economy;
meantime you will be happy."
Balthazar raised his head and looked at his wife with
a joy that was mingled with fear. Their roles were
changed. The wife was the protector of the husband.
He, so tender, he, whose heart was so at one with his
Pepita's, now held her in his arms without perceiving the
132
The Alkahest.
horrible convulsion that made her palpitate, and even
shook her hair and her lips with a nervous shudder.
" I dared not tell you," he said, " that between me
and the Unconditioned, the Absolute, scarcely a hair's
breadth intervenes. To gasify metals, I only need to
find the means of submitting them to intense heat in
some centre where the pressure of the atmosphere is
nil,—in short, in a vacuum."
Madame Claes could not endure the egotism of this
reply. She expected a passionate acknowledgment of
her sacrifices — she received a problem in chemistry !
The poor woman left her husband abruptly and returned
to the parlor, where she fell into a chair between her
frightened daughters, and burst into tears. Marguerite
and Felicie took her hands, kneeling one on each side
of her, not knowing the cause of her grief, and asking
at intervals, " Mother, what is it?"
" My poor children, I am dying; I feel it."
The answer struck home to Marguerite's heart; she
saw, for the first time on her mother's face, the signs
of that peculiar pallor which only comes on olive-tinted
skins.
'' Martha, Martha! " cried Felicie, '' come quickly;
mamma wants you."
The old duenna ran in from the kitchen, and as soon
as she saw the livid hue of the dusky skin usually high-
colored, she cried out in Spanish, —
The Alkahest.
133
" Body of Christ! madame is dying! "
Then she rushed precipitately hack, told Josette to
heat water for a footbath, and returned to the parlor.
" Don't alarm Monsieur Claes ; say nothing to him,
Martha," said her mistress. " My poor dear girls,"
she added, pressing Marguerite and Felicie to her heart
with a despairing action; "I wish I could live long
enough to see you married and happy. Martha," she
continued, "tell Lemulquinier to go to Monsieur de
Solis and ask him in my name to come here."
The shock of this attack extended to the kitchen.
Josette and Martha, both devoted to Madame Claes
and her daughters, felt the blow in their own affections.
Martha's dreadful announcement, — '' Madame is dy¬
ing ; monsieur must have killed her; get ready a
mustard-bath," — forced certain exclamations from
Josette, which she launched at Lemulquinier. He, cold
and impassive, went on eating at the corner of a table
before one of the windows of the kitchen, where all was
kept as clean as the boudoir of a fine lady.
" I knew how it would end," said Josette, glancing
at the valet and mounting a stool to take down a cop¬
per kettle that shone like golcL " There's no mother
could quietly stand by and see a father amusing himself
by chopping up a fortune like his into sausage-meat."
Josette, whose head was covered by a round cap with
crimped borders, which made it look like a German
134
The Alkahest.
nut-cracker, cast a sour look at Lemulquinier, which
the greenish tinge of her prominent little eyes made
almost venomous. The old valet shrugged his shoulders
with a motion worthy of Mirabeau when irritated ; then
he filled his large mouth with bread and butter sprinkled
with chopped onion.
" Instead of thwarting monsieur, madame ought to
give him more money," he said; " and then we should
soon be rich enough to swim in gold. There's not the
thickness of a farthing between us and — "
" Well, you 've got twenty thousand francs laid by;
why don't you give 'em to monsieur ? he's your master,
and if you are so sure of his doings — "
"You don't know anything about them, Josette.
Mind your pots and pans, and heat the water," re¬
marked the old Fleming, interrupting the cook.
'' I know enough to know there used to be several
thousand ounces of silver-ware about this house which
you and your master have melted up; and if you are
allowed to have your way, 3-011 '11 make ducks and
drakes of everything till there's nothing left."
"And monsieur," added Martha, entering the kitchen,
" will kill madame, just to get rid of a woman who re¬
strains him and won't let him swallow up everything
he's got. He's possessed by the devil; anybody can
see that. You don't risk your soul in helping him,
Mulquinier, because you haven't got any; look at
The Alkahest.
135
you! sitting there like a "bit of ice when we are all
in such distress; the young ladies are crying like
two Magdalens. Go and fetch Monsieur l'Abbe de
Solis."
" I've got something to do for monsieur. He told
me to put the laboratory in order," said the valet.
"Besides, it's too far — go yourself."
" Just hear the brute !" cried Martha. " Pray who
is to give madame her foot-bath ? do you want her to
die? she has got a rush of blood to the head."
" Mulquinier," said Marguerite, coming into the ser¬
vants' hall, which adjoined the kitchen, " on your way
back from Monsieur de Solis, call at Dr. Pierquin's
house and ask him to come here at once."
" Ha! you 've got to go now," said Josette.
" Mademoiselle, monsieur told me to put the labora¬
tory in order," said Lemulquinier, facing the two women
and looking them down, with a despotic air.
"Father," said Marguerite, to Monsieur Claes, who
was just then descending the stairs, " can you let Mul¬
quinier do an errand for us in town ? "
"How you 're forced to go, you old barbarian! " cried
Martha, as she heard Monsieur Claes put Mulquinier
at his daughter's bidding.
The lack of good-will and devotion shown by the old
valet for the family whom he served was a fruitful cause
of quarrel between the two women and Lemulquinier,
136
The Alkahest.
whose cold-heartedness had the effect of increasing the
loyal attachment of Josette and the old duenna.
This dispute, apparently so paltry, was destined to
influence the future of the Claes family when, at a later
period, they needed succor in misfortune.
UNDER THE ZODIAC.
By H. L. Collinson.
Under the shade of the signs of the Zodiac,
Whittling away at a sycamore tree,
Limpets were gathered in solemn symp ^siac,
Peacefully sipping their afternoon tea.
Slowly they solved the Binomial theorem,
Simple equations they spread on their bread ;
No County Council durst ever come near them,
Whilst they decided that Euclid was dead.
Sound were the arguments held by the minister,
As to the cause of the recent divorce,
Brought by the lobster for purposes sinister
'Gainst the octopus, who died from remorse.
Newton, they said, settled all about gravity ;
Who was to say that the lobster had spent
A life that was steeped in all sorts of depravity,
Swindling the lodger, who'd not got a cent.
Silent as death was the lobster from Whitstable ;
The lamp-lighter finished his rounds with a smile.
The limpet alone, being drunk and incapable,
Wanted to race the defendant a mile.
The Alkahest.
137
VIII.
Balthazar was again so absorbed that he did not
notice Josephine's condition. He took Jean upon his
knee and trotted him mechanically, pondering, no
doubt, the problem he now had the means of solving.
He saw them bring the footbath to his wife, who was
still in the parlor, too weak to rise from the low chair
in which she was lying; he gazed abstractedly at his
daughters now attending on their mother, without in¬
quiring the cause of their tender solicitude. When
Marguerite or Jean attempted to speak aloud, Ma¬
dame Claes hushed them and pointed to Balthazar.
Such a scene was of a nature to make a young girl
think; and Marguerite, placed as she was between
her father and mother, was old enough and sensible
enough to weigh their conduct.
There comes a moment in the private life of every
family when the children, voluntarily or involuntarily,
judge their parents. Madame Claes foresaw the dan¬
gers of that moment. Her love for Balthazar impelled
her to justify in Marguerite's eyes conduct that might,
138
The Alkahest.
to the upright mind of a girl of sixteen, seem faulty in
a father. The very respect which she showed at this
moment for her husband, making herself and her con¬
dition of no account that nothing might disturb his
meditation, impressed her children with a sort of awe
of the paternal majesty. Such self-devotion, however
infectious it might be, only increased Marguerite's ad¬
miration for her mother, to whom she was more par¬
ticularly bound by the close intimacy of their daily lives.
This feeling was based on the intuitive perception of
sufferings whose causes naturally occupied the young
girl's mind. No human power could have hindered
some chance word dropped by Martha, or by Josette,
from enlightening her as to the real reasons for the
condition of her home during the last four years. Not¬
withstanding Madame Claes's reserve, Marguerite dis¬
covered slowly, thread by thread, the clue to the
domestic drama. She was soon to be her mother's
active confidante, and later, under other circumstances,
a formidable judge.
Madame Claes's watchful care now centred upon her
eldest daughter, to whom she endeavored to communi¬
cate her own self-devotion towards Balthazar. The
firmness and sound judgment which she recognized in
the young girl made her tremble at the thought of a
possible struggle between father and daughter when¬
ever her own death should make the latter mistress of
The Alkahest.
139
the household. The poor woman had reached a point
where she "dreaded the consequences of her death far
more than death itself. Her tender solicitude for Bal¬
thazar showed itself in the resolution she had this day
taken. By freeing his property from incumbrance she
secured his independence, and prevented all future dis¬
putes by separating his interests from those of her
children. She hoped to see him happy until she closed
her eyes on earth, and she studied to transmit the ten¬
derness of her own heart to that of Marguerite, trusting
that his daughter might continue to be to him an angel
of love, while exercising over the family a protecting
and conservative authority. Might she not thus .shed
the light of her love upon her dear ones from beyond the
grave?' Nevertheless, she was not willing to lower the
father in the eyes of his daughter by initiating her
into the secret dangers of his scientific passion before
it became necessary to do so. She studied Marguerite's
soul and character, seeking to discover if the girl's own
nature would lead her to be a mother to her brothers
and her sister, and a tender, gentle helpmeet to her
father.
Madame Claes's last days were thus embittered by
fears and mental disquietudes which she dared not con¬
fide to others. Conscious that the recent scene had
struck her death-blow, she turned her thoughts wholly
to the future. Balthazar, meanwhile, now permanently
140
The Alkahest,
unfitted for the care of property or the interests of do¬
mestic life, thought only of the Absolute.
The heavy silence that reigned in the parlor was
broken only by the monotonous beating of Balthazar's
foot, which he continued to trot, wholly unaware that
Jean had slid from his knee. Marguerite, who was
sitting beside her mother and watching the changes on
that pallid, convulsed face, turned now and again to
her father, wondering at his indifference. Presently
the street-door clanged, and the family saw the Abbe
de Solis leaning on the arm of his nephew and slowly
crossing the court-yard.
u Ah! there is Monsieur Emmanuel," said Felicie.
'' That good young man !" exclaimed Madame Claes ;
" I am glad to welcome him."
Marguerite blushed at the praise that escaped her
mother's lips. For the last two days a remembrance
of the young man had stirred mysterious feelings in her
heart, and wakened in her mind thoughts that had Iain
dormant. During the visit made by the Abbe de Solis
to Madame Claes on the occasion of his examining the
pictures, there happened certain of those imperceptible
events which wield so great an influence upon life ; and
their results were sufficiency important to necessitate a
brief sketch of the two personages now first introduced
into the history of this family.
It was a matter of principle with Madame Claes to
The Alkahest.
141
perform the duties of her religion privately. Her con¬
fessor, who was almost unknown in the family, now
entered the house for the second time only ; but there,
as elsewhere, every one was impressed with a sort of
tender admiration at the aspect of the uncle and his
nephew.
The Abbe de Solis was an octogenarian, with silvery
hair, and a withered face from which the vitality seemed
to have retreated to the eyes. He walked with diffi-
cultv, for one of his shrunken legs ended in a painfully
deformed foot, which was cased in a species of velvet
bag, and obliged him to use a crutch when the arm of
his nephew was not at hand. His bent figure and de¬
crepit body conveyed the impression of a delicate, suffer¬
ing nature, governed by a will of iron and the spirit of
religious purity. This Spanish priest, who was remark¬
able for his vast learning, his sincere piety, and a wide
knowledge of men and things, had been successively a
Dominican friar, the grand penitencier of Toledo, and
the vicar-general of the archbishopric of Malines. If
the French Revolution had not intervened, the influence
of the Casa-Real family would have made him one of
the highest dignitaries of the Church; but the grief he
felt for the death of the young duke, Madame Claes's
brother, who had been his pupil, turned him from active
life, and he now devoted himself to the education of his
nephew, who was made an orphan at an early age.
142
The Alkahest.
After the conquest of Belgium, the Abbe de Solis
settled at Douai to be near Madame Claes. From his
youth up he had professed an enthusiasm for Saint
Theresa which, together with the natural bent of his
mind, led him to the nwstical side of Christian^.
Finding in Flanders, where Mademoiselle Bourignon
and the writings of the Quietists and Illuminati made
the greatest number of proselytes, a flock of Catholics
devoted to those ideas, he remained there, — all the
more willingly because he was looked up to as a patri¬
arch by this particular communion, which continued to
follow the doctrines of the Mystics notwithstanding
the censures of the Church upon Fenelon and Madame
Guyon. His morals were rigid, his life exemplary, and
he was believed to have visions. In spite of his own
detachment from the things of life, his affection for his
nephew made him careful of the young man's interests.
When a work of charity was to be done, the old abbe
put the faithful of his flock under contribution before
having recourse to his own means ; and his patriarchal
authority was so well established, his motives so pure,
his discernment so rarely at fault, that every one was
read}^ to answer his appeal. To give an idea of the
contrast between the uncle and the nephew, we may
compare the old man to a willow on the borders of a
stream, hollowed, to a skeleton and barely alive, and the
young man to a sweet-brier clustering with roses, whose
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143
erect and graceful stems spring up about the hoary
trunk of the old tree as if they would support it.
Emmanuel de Solis, rigidly brought up by his uncle,
who kept him at his side as a mother keeps her daugh¬
ter, was full of delicate sensibility, of half-dreamy in¬
nocence, — those fleeting flowers of youth which bloom
perennially in souls that are nourished on religious prin¬
ciples. The old priest had checked all sensuous emo¬
tions in his pupil, preparing him for the trials of life by
constant study and a discipline, that was almost clois-
teral. Such an education, which would launch the
youth unstained upon the world and render him happy,
provided he were fortunate in his earliest affections,
had endowed him with a purity of spirit which gave to
his person something of the charm that surrounds a
maiden. His modest eyes, veiling a strong and cou¬
rageous soul, sent forth a light that vibrated in the
soul as the tones of a crystal bell sound their undula¬
tions on the ear. His face, though regular, was ex¬
pressive, and charmed the eye with its clear-cut outline,
the harmony of its lines, and the perfect repose which
came of a heart at peace. All. was harmonious. His
black hair, his brown eyes and eyebrows, heightened
the effect of a white skin and a brilliant color. His
voice was such as might have been expected from his
beautiful face; and something feminine in his move¬
ments accorded well with the melody of its tones and
144
The Alkahest.
•with the tender brightness of his eyes. He seemed un¬
aware of the charm he exercised by his modest silence,
the half-melancholy reserve of his manner, and the re¬
spectful attentions he paid to his uncle.
Those who saw the young man as he watched the un¬
certain steps of the old abbe, and altered his own to suit
their devious course, looking for obstructions that might
trip his uncle's feet and guiding him to a smoother way,
could not fail to recognize in Emmanuel de Solis the
generous nature which makes the human being a divine
creation. There was something noble in the love that
never criticised his uncle, in the obedience that never
cavilled at the old man's orders; it seemed as though
there were prophecy in the gracious name his godmother
had given him. When the abbe gave proof of his Do¬
minican despotism, in their own home or in the presence
of others, Emmanuel would sometimes lift his head with
so much dignity, as if to assert his metal should any
other man assail him, that men of honor were moved
at the sight like artists before a glorious picture ; for
noble sentiments ring as loudly in the soul from living
incarnations as from the imagery of art.
Emmanuel had accompanied his uncle when the latter
came to examine the pictures of the House of Claes.
Hearing from Martha that the Abb£ de Solis was in the
gallery, Marguerite, anxious to see so celebrated a man,
invented an excuse to join her mother and gratify her
The Alkahest.
145
curiosity. Entering hastily, with the heedless gayety
young girls assume at times to hide their wishes, she
encountered near the old abbe, clothed in black and
looking decrepit and cadaverous, the fresh, delightful
face of a young man. The naive glances of the youth¬
ful pair expressed their mutual astonishment. Mar¬
guerite and Emmanuel had no doubt seen each other
in their dreams. Both lowered their eyes and raised
them again with one impulse; each, by the action,
made the same avowal. Marguerite took her mother's
arm, and spoke to her to cover her confusion and find
shelter under the maternal wing, turning her neck with
a swan-like motion to keep sight of Emmanuel, who
still supported his uncle on his arm. The light was
cleverly arranged to give due value to the pictures, and
the half-obscurity of the gallery encouraged those fur¬
tive glances which are the joy of timid natures. Neither
went so far, even in thought, as the first note of love;
yet both felt the mysterious trouble which stirs the
heart, and is jealously kept secret in our youth from
fastidiousness or modesty.
The first impression which forces a sensibility hitherto
suppressed to overflow its borders, is followed in all
young people by the same half-stupefied amazement
which the first sounds of music produce upon a child.
Some children laugh and think ; others do not laugh till
they have thought; but those whose hearts are called to
10
146
The Alkahest.
live by poetiy or love, listen stilly and bear the melody
with a look where pleasure flames already, and the
search for the infinite begins. If, from an irresistible
feeling, we love the places where our childhood first
perceived the beauties of harmony, if we remember with
delight the musician, and even the instrument, that
taught them to us, how much more shall we love the
being who reveals to us the musiq of life? The first
heart in which we draw the breath of love, —is it not
our home, our native land? Marguerite and Emmanuel
were, each to each, that Voice of music which wakes a
sense, that hand which lifts the misty veil, and reveals
the distant shores bathed in the fires of noonday.
When Madame Claes paused before a picture by
Guido representing an angel, Marguerite bent forward
to see the impression it made upon Emmanuel, and
Emmanuel looked at Marguerite to compare the mute
thought on the canvas with the living thought beside
him. This involuntary and delightful homage was un¬
derstood and treasured. The old abbe gravely praised
the picture, and Madame Claes answered him, but the
3-outh and the maiden were silent.
Such was their first meeting: the m}*sterious light of
the picture gallery, the stillness of the old house, the
presence of their elders, all contributed to trace upon
their hearts the delicate lines of this vaporous mirage.
The many confused thoughts that surged in Marguerite's
The Alkahest.
147
mind grew calm and lay like a limpid ocean traversed
by a luminous ray when Emmanuel murmured a few
farewell words to Madame Claes. That voice, whose
fresh and mellow tone sent nameless delights into her
heart, completed the revelation that had come to her,
— a revelation which Emmanuel, were he able, should
cherish to his own profit; for it often happens that the
man whom destiny employs to waken love in the heart
of a young girl is ignorant of his work and leaves it
unfinished. Marguerite bowed confusedly; her true
farewell was in the glance which seemed unwilling to
lose so pure and lovely a vision. Like a child she
wanted her melody. Their parting took place at the
foot of the old staircase near the parlor; and when
Marguerite re-entered the room she watched the uncle
and the nephew till the street-door closed upon them.
Madame Claes had been so occupied with the serious
matters which caused her conference with the abbe that
she did not on this occasion observe her daughter's
manner. When Monsieur de Solis came again to the
house on the occasion of her illness, she was too vio¬
lently agitated to notice the color that rushed into Mar¬
guerite's face and betrayed the tumult of a virgin heart
conscious of its first joy. By the time the old abbe was
announced, Marguerite had taken up her sewing and ap¬
peared to give it such attention that she bowed to the
uncle and nephew without looking at them. Monsieur
148
The Alkahest.
Claes mechanically returned their salutation and left
the room with the air of a man called away by his
occupations. The good Dominican sat down beside
Madame Claes and looked at her with one of those
searching glances by which he penetrated the minds of
others ; the sight of Monsieur Claes and his wife was
enough to make him aware of a catastrophe.
" My children," said the mother, " go into the
garden; Marguerite, show Emmanuel your father's
tulips."
Marguerite, half abashed, took Felicie's arm and
looked at the young man, who blushed and caught up
little Jean to cover his confusion. "When all four were
in the garden, Felicie and Jean ran to the other side,
leaving Marguerite, who, conscious that she was alone
with young de Solis, led him to the pyramid of tulips,
arranged precisely in the same manner year after year
by Lemulquinier.
" Do you love tulips ? " asked Marguerite, after stand¬
ing for a moment in deep silence, — a silence Emmanuel
seemed little disposed to break.
" Mademoiselle, these flowers are beautiful, but to»
love them we must perhaps have a taste for them, and
know how to understand their beauties. They dazzle
me. Constant study in the gloomy little chamber in
which I live, close to my uncle, makes me prefer those
flowers that are softer to the eye."'
The Alkahest.
149
Saying these words he glanced at Marguerite; but
the look, full as it was of confused desires,, contained
no allusion to the lily whiteness, the sweet serenity, the
tender coloring which made her face a flower.
"Do you work very hard?" she asked, leading liim
to a wooden seat with a back, painted green. " Here,"
she continued, "the tulips are not so close; they will
not tire your eyes. Yes, you are right, those colors are
dazzling; they give pain."
" Do I work hard?" replied the young man after a
short silence, as he smoothed the gravel with his foot.
"Yes; I work at many things. My uncle wished to
make me a priest."
" Oh! " exclaimed Marguerite, naively.
"I resisted; I felt no vocation for it. But it re¬
quired great courage to oppose my uncle's wishes. He
is so good, he loves me so much! Quite recently he
bought a substitute to save me from the conscription —
me, a poor orphan ! "
"What do you mean to be?" asked Marguerite;
then, immediately checking herself as though she would
unsay the words, she added with a prett}* gesture, " I
beg your pardon ; }'ou must think me very inquisitive."
" Oh, mademoiselle," said Emmanuel, looking at her
with tender admiration, "except my uncle, no one ever
asked me that question. I am studying to be a
teacher. I cannot do otherwise; I am not rich. If
150
The Alkahest.
I were principal of a college-school in Flanders I
should earn enough to live moderate^, and I might
marry some simple woman whom I could love. That
is the life I look forward to. Perhaps that is why I
prefer a daisy in the meadows to these splendid tulips,
whose purple and gold and rubies and amethysts be¬
token a life of luxury, just as the clais}^ is emblematic
of a sweet and patriarchal life,—the life of a poor
teacher like me."
" I have always called the daisies marguerites," she
said.
Emmanuel colored deeply, and sought an answer
from the sand at his feet. Embarrassed to choose
among the thoughts that came to him, which he feared
were silly, and disconcerted b}r his delay in answering,
he said at last, '' I dared not pronounce your name "
— then he paused.
" A teacher? " she said.
" Mademoiselle, I shall be a teacher only as a means
of living: I shall undertake great works which will
make me nobly useful. I have a strong taste for his¬
torical researches."
" Ah! "
That " ah! " so full of secret thoughts added to his
confusion ; he gave a foolish laugh and said : —
" Tou make me talk of myself when I ought only
to speak of you."
The Alkahest.
151
" My mother and your uncle must have finished their
conversation, I think," said Marguerite, looking into
the parlor through the windows.
"Your mother seems to me greatly changed," said
Emmanuel.
" She suffers, but she will not tell us the cause
of her sufferings; and we can only try to share them
with her."
Madame Claes had, in fact, just ended a delicate con¬
sultation which involved a case of conscience the Abbe
de Solis alone could decide. Foreseeing the utter ruin
of the family, she wished to retain, unknown to Bal¬
thazar who paid no attention to his business affairs,
part of the price of the pictures which Monsieur de
Solis had undertaken to sell in Holland, intending to
hold it secretly in reserve against the day when pov¬
erty should overtake her children. With much delib¬
eration, and after weighing every circumstance, the old
Dominican approved the act as one of prudence. He
took his leave to prepare at once for the sale, which he
engaged to make secretly, so as not to injure Monsieur
Claes in the estimation of others.
The next day Monsieur de Solis despatched his nephew,
armed with letters of introduction, to Amsterdam, where
Emmanuel, delighted to do a service to the Claes family,
succeeded in selling all the pictures in the gallery to the
noted bankers Happe and Duncker for the ostensible
152
The Alkahest.
sum of eighty-five thousand Dutch ducats and fifteen
thousand more which were paid over secretly to Ma¬
dame Claes. The pictures were so well known that
nothing was needed to complete the sale but an answer
from Balthazar to the letter which Messieurs Happo
and Duncker addressed to him. Emmanuel de Solis
was commissioned by Claes to receive the price of
the pictures, which were thereupon packed and sent
away secretl}', to conceal the sale from the people of
Douai.
Towards the end of September, Balthazar paid off all
the sums that he had borrowed, released his property
from encumbrance, and resumed his chemical researches ;
but the House of Claes was deprived of its noblest orna¬
ment. Blinded by his passion, the master showed no
regret; he felt so sure of repairing the loss that in sell¬
ing the pictures he reserved a right of redemption. In
Josephine's eyes a hundred pictures were as nothing
compared to domestic happiness and the satisfaction
of her husband's mind; moreover, she refilled the gal¬
lery with other paintings, taken from the reception-
rooms, and to conceal the gaps which these left in
the front house, she changed the arrangement of the
furniture.
When Balthazar's debts were all paid he had about
two hundred thousand francs with which to carry on
his experiments. The Abbe de Solis and his nephew
The Alkahest.
153
took charge secretly of the fifteen thousand ducats re¬
served by Madame Claes. To increase that sum, the
abbe sold the Dutch ducats, to which the events of the
Continental war had given a commercial value. One
hundred and sixty-five thousand francs were buried in
the cellar of the house in which the abbe and his nephew
resided.
Madame Claes had the melancholy happiness of see¬
ing her husband incessantly busy and satisfied for nearly
eight months. But the shock he had lately given her
was too severe; she sank into a state of languor and
debility which steadity increased. Balthazar was now
so completely absorbed in science that neither the- re¬
verses which had overtaken France, nor the first fall
of Napoleon, nor the return of the Bourbons, drew him
from his laboratory; he was neither husband, father,
nor citizen, — solely chemist.
Towards the close of 1814 Madame Claes declined
so rapidly that she was no longer able to leave her bed.
Unwilling to vegetate in her own chamber, the scene
of so much happiness, where the memory of vanished
joj'S forced involuntary comparisons with the present
and depressed her, she moved into the parlor. The
doctors encouraged this wish by declaring the room
more airy, more cheerful, and therefore better suited
to her condition. The bed in which the unfortunate
woman ended her life was placed between the fireplace
154
The Alkahest.
and a •window looking on the garden. There she passed
her last days, sacredly occupied in training the souls of
her young daughters, striving to leave within them the
fire of her own. Conjugal love, deprived of its mani¬
festations, allowed maternal love to have its way. The
mother now seemed the more delightful because her
motherhood had blossomed late. Like all generous
persons, she passed through sensitive phases of feeling
which she mistook for remorse. Believing that she had
defrauded her children of the tenderness that should
have been theirs, she sought to redeem those imaginary
wrongs; bestowing attentions and tender cares which
made her precious to them; she longed to make her
children live, as it were, within her heart; to shelter
them beneath her feeble wings ; to cherish them enough
in the few remaining days to redeem the time during
which she had neglected them. The sufferings of her
mind gave to her words and lier caresses a glowing
warmth that issued from her soul. Her eyes caressed
her children, her voice with its yearning intonations
touched their hearts, her hand showered blessings on
their heads.
Come and Go.—Attar of roses is made in Turkey, but alarge'q'uantity 1
comes also from British India. The rose-gardens of Ghazepore are fields i
in which small rose-bushes are planted in rows. In the morning they are
red with blossoms, but before mid-day these are all gathered and their
leaves distilled in clay stills, with twice their weight in water. The water
which comes over is placed in open vessels, covered with a moist muslin
cloth, to keep out the dust and flies, and exposed all night to the cool air
In the morning a thin film of oil has collected on the top, which is swept
off with a feather, and carefully transferred to a small phial This is
repeated night after night, till nearly the whole of the oil is separated from
the water. Twenty thousand roses are required to yield a rupee-weight¬
less than half an ounce—of oil. Pure attar of roses is seldom met with '
That which is sold in this country is diluted with sandal-wood oil or with i
sweet salad oils. '
The Alkahest.
155
IX.
The good people of Douai were not surprised that
visitors were no longer received at the House of Claes,
and that Balthazar gave 110 more fetes on the anniver¬
sary of his marriage. Madame Claes's state of health
seemed a sufficient reason for the change, and the
payment of her husband's debts put a stop to the cur¬
rent gossip; moreover, the political vicissitudes to
which Flanders was subjected, the war of the Hundred-
days, and the occupation of the Allied armies, put the
chemist and his researches completely out of people's
minds. During those two years Douai was so often on
the point of being taken, it was so constantly occupied
either by the French or by the enemj7, so manjr foreign¬
ers came there, so many of the country-people sought
refuge within its walls, so many lives were in peril, so
many catastrophes occurred, that each man thought only
of himself.
The Abbe de Solis and his nephew, and the two
Pierquins, doctor and lawyer, were the only persons
who now visited Madame Claes; for whom the winter
of 1814-1815 was a long and dreary death-scene.. Her
156
The Alkahest.
husband rarely came to see her. It is true that after
dinner he remained some hours in the parlor, near her
bed ; but as she no longer had the strength to keep up
a conversation, he merely said a few words, invariably
the same, sat down, spoke no more, and a dreary
silence settled down upon the room. The monotony
of this existence was broken only on the days when the
Abbe de Solis and his nephew passed the evening with
Madame Claes.
While the abbe played backgammon with Balthazar,
Marguerite talked with Emmanuel by the bedside of her
mother, who smiled at their innocent joy, not allowing
them to see how painful and yet how soothing to her
wounded spirit were the fresh breezes of their virgin love,
murmuring in fitful words from heart to heart. The in¬
flection of their voices, to them so full of charm, to her
was heart-breaking ; a glance of mutual understanding
surprised between the two threw her, half-dead as she
was, back to the young and happy past which gave such
bitterness to the present. Emmanuel and Marguerite
with intuitive delicacy of feeling repressed the sweet
half-childish play of love, lest it should hurt the saddened
woman whose wounds they instinctively divined.
No one has yet remarked that feelings have an exist¬
ence of their own, a nature which is developed by the
circumstances that environ them, and in which they are
born; they bear a likeness to the places of their growth,
The Alkahest.
157
and keep the imprint of the ideas that influenced their
development. There are passions ardently conceived
which remain ardent, like that of Madame Claes for her
husband: there are sentiments on which all life has
smiled; these retain their spring-time gayety, their
harvest-time of joy, seasons that never fail of laugh¬
ter or of fetes: but there are other loves, framed in
melancholy, circled by distress, whose pleasures are
painful, costly, burdened by fears, poisoned by remorse,
or blackened by despair. The love in the heart of
Marguerite and Emmanuel, as yet unknown to them
for love, the sentiment that budded into life beneath
the gloomy arches of the picture-gallery, beside the
stern old abbe, in a still and silent moment, that love
so grave and so discreet, yet rich in tender depths, in
secret delights that were luscious to the taste as stolen
grapes snatched from a corner of the vineyard, wore
in coming j*ears the sombre browns and grajTs that
surrounded the hour of its birth.
Fearing to give expression to their feelings beside'
that bed of pain, they unconsciously increased their
happiness by a concentration which deepened its im¬
print on their hearts. The devotion of the daughter,
shared by Emmanuel, happy in thus uniting himself
with Marguerite and becoming by anticipation the son
of her mother, was their medium of communication.
Melancholy thanks from the lips of the young girl sup-
158
The Alkahest.
planted the hoiked language of lovers ; the sighing' of
their hearts, surcharged with joy at some interchange
of looks, was scarcel}' distinguishable from the sighs
wrung from them by the mother's sufferings. Their
happy little moments of indirect avowal, of unuttered
promises, of smothered effusion, were like the allegories
of Raphael painted on a black ground. Each felt a
certainty that neither avowed; they knew the sun was
shining over them, but they could not know what wind
might chase away the clouds that gathered about their
heads. They doubted the future; fearing that pain
would ever follow them, they stayed timidly among the
shadows of the twilight, not daring to say to each
other, '' Shall we end our days together ?"
The tenderness which Madame Claes now testified
for her children nobly concealed much that she en¬
deavored to hide from herself. Her children caused
her neither fear nor passionate emotion: they were her
comforters, but they were not her life: she lived by
them ; she died through Balthazar. However painful
her husband's presence might be to her, lost as he was
for hours together in depths of thought from which he
looked at her without seeing her, it was only during
those cruel moments that she forgot her griefs. His in¬
difference to the dying woman would have seemed crim¬
inal to a stranger, but Madame Claes and her daughters
were accustomed to it; they knew his heart and they
The Alkahest.
159
forgave him. If, during the daytime, Josephine was
seized by some sudden illness, if she were worse and
seemed near dying, Claes was the only person in the
house or in the town who remained ignorant of it.
Lemulquinier knew it, but neither the daughters, bound
to silence by their mother, nor Josephine herself let
Balthazar know the danger of the being he had once
so passionately loved.
When his heavy step sounded in the gallery as he
came to dinner, Madame Claes was happy — she was
about to see him! and she gathered up her strength for
that happiness. As he entered, the .pallid face blushed
brightly and recovered for an instant the semblance of
health. Balthazar came to her bedside, took her hand,
saw the misleading color on her cheek, and to him she
seemed well. When he asked, "My dear wife, how
are you to-day?" she answered, " Better, dear friend,"
and made him think she would be up and recovered
on the morrow. His preoccupation was so great that he
accepted this repty, and believed the illness of which
his wife was dying a mere indisposition. Dying to the
eyes of the world, in his alone she was living.
A complete separation between husband and wife
was the result of this year. Claes slept in a distant
chamber, got up early in the morning, and shut himself
into his laboratory or his study. Seeing his wife only
in presence of his daughters or of the two or three
160
The Alkahest.
friends who came to visit them, he lost the habit of
communicating with her. These two beings, formerly
accustomed to think as one, no longer, unless at rare
intervals, enjo}~ed those moments of communion, of
passionate unreserve which feed the life of the heart;
and finally there came a time when even these rare
pleasures ceased. Physical suffering was now a boon to
the poor woman, helping her to endure the void of sep¬
aration, which might have killed her had she been truly
living. Her bodily pain became so great that there were
times when she was joyful in the thought that he whom
she loved was not a witness of it. She lay watching
Balthazar in the evening hours, and knowing him happy
in his own way, she lived in the happiness she had pro¬
cured for him, — a shadowy joy,"and yet it satisfied her.
She no longer asked herself if she were loved, she forced
herself to believe it; and she glided over that icy surface,
not daring to rest her weight upon it lest it should break
and drown her soul in a gulf of awful nothingness.
No events stirred the calm of this existence; the
malady that was slowly consuming Madame Claes
added to the household stillness, and in this condition
of passive gloom the House of Claes reached the first
weeks of the year 1816. Pierquin, the lawyer, was
destined, at the close of February, to strike the death¬
blow of the angelic woman who, in the words of the
Abbe de Solis, was wellnigh without sin.
The Alkahest.
161
"Madame," said Pierquin, seizing a moment when
her daughters could not hear the conversation, " Mon¬
sieur Claes has directed me to borrow three hundred
thousand francs on his property. You must do some¬
thing to protect the future of your children."
Madame Claes clasped her hands and raised her eyes
to the ceiling; then she thanked the notary with a sad
smile and a kindly motion of her head which affected
him.
His words were the stab that killed her. During
that day she had yielded herself up to sad reflections
which swelled her heart; she was like the wayfarer
walking beside a precipice who loses his balance and
a mere pebble rolls him to the depth of the abyss he
has so long and so courageously skirted. When the
notary left her, Madame Claes told Marguerite to bring
writing materials ; then she gathered up her remaining
strength to write her last wishes. Several times she
paused and looked at her daughter. The hour of con¬
fidence had come.
Marguerite's management of the household since her
mother's illness had so amply fulfilled the dying
woman's hopes that Madame Claes was able to look
upon the future of the family without absolute despair,
confident that she herself would live again in this strong
and loving angel. Both women felt, no doubt, that sad
and mutual confidences must be now made between
11
162 The Alkahest.
tliem; the daughter looked at the mother, the mother
at the daughter, tears flowing from their eyes. Several
times, as Madame Claes rested from her writing, Mar¬
guerite said: " Mother?" then she stopped as if chok¬
ing ; but the mother, occupied with her last thoughts,
did not ask the meaning of the interrogation. At last,
Madame Claes wished to seal the letter; Marguerite
held the taper, turning aside her head that she might
not see the superscription.
" You can read it, my child," said the mother, in a
heart-rending voice.
The young girl read the words, "To my daughter
Marguerite."
"We will talk to each other after I have rested
awhile," said Madame Claes, putting the letter under
her pillow.
Then she fell back as if exhausted by the effort, and
slept for several hours. When she woke, her two
daughters and her two sons were kneeling by her bed
and praying. It was Thursday. Gabriel and Jean had
been brought from school by Emmanuel de Solis, who
for the last six months was professor of history and
philosophy.
" Dear children, we must part!" she cried. "You
have never forsaken me? never! and he who — "
She stopped.
"Monsieur Emmanuel," saicfMarguerite, seeing the
The Alkahest.
163
pallor on her mother's face, " go to my father, and tell
him mamma is worse."
Young de Solis went to the door of the laboratory
and persuaded Lemulquinier to make Balthazar come
and speak to him. On hearing the urgent request of
the young man, Claes answered, " I will come."
" Emmanuel," said Madame Claes when he returned
to her, " take my sons away, and bring your uncle here.
It is time to give me the last sacraments, and I wish to
receive them from his hand."
When she was alone with her daughters she made a
sign to Marguerite, who understood her and sent Felicie
awa}'.
" I have something to say to you myself, dear mam¬
ma," said Marguerite who, not believing her-mother so
ill as she really was, increased the wound Pierquin had
given. " I have had no money for the household ex¬
penses during the last ten da}'s; I owe six months'
wages to the servants. Twice I have tried to ask my
father for money, but did not dare to do so. You don't
know, perhaps, that all the pictures in the gallery have
been sold, and all the wines in the cellar?"
"He never told me!" exclaimed Madame Claes.
"My God! thou callest me to thyself in time! My
poor children! what will become of them? "
She made a fervent prayer, which brought the fires
of repentance to her eyes.
164
The Alkahest.
" Marguerite," she resumed, drawing the letter from
her pillow, "here is a paper which 3*011 must not open
or read until a time, after m}* death, when some great
disaster has overtaken 3*ou; when, in short, 3*011 are
without the means of living. M3* dear Marguerite, love
3*our father, but take care of 3*0111* brothers and 3*our
sister. In a few days, in a few hours perhaps, 3*ou will
be the head of this household. Be economical. Should
3*011 find yourself opposed to the wishes of your father,
— and it may so happen, because he has spent vast
sums in searching for a secret whose discover}' is to
bring glor3* and wealth to his famil3T, and he will no
doubt need money, perhaps he ma}* demand it of you,—
should that time come, treat him with the tenderness of
a daughter, strive to reconcile the interests of which you
will be the sole protector with the duty which you owe to
a father, to a great man who has sacrificed his happiness
and his life to the glory of his family; he can only do
wrong in act, his intentions are noble, his heart is full of
love ; you will see him once more kind and affectionate
— You / Marguerite, it is my duty to say these words to
you on the borders of the grave. If you wish to soften
the anguish of my death, promise me, my child, to take
my place beside your father; to cause him no grief;
never to reproach him; never to condemn him. Be a
gentle, considerate guardian of the home until — his work
accomplished — he is again the master of his family."
The Alkahest.
165
" I understand you, dear mother,'-' said Marguerite,
kissing the swollen eyelids of the dying woman. "I
will do as you wish."
" Do not marry, my darling, until Gabriel can succeed
you in the management of the property and the house¬
hold. If 3-0U married, your husband might not share
your feelings, he might bring trouble into the family
and disturb your father's life."
Marguerite looked at her mother and said, " Have
you nothing else to say to me about my marriage ?"
"Can you hesitate, my child?" cried the dying
woman in alarm.
" No," the daughter answered; " I promise to obey
you."
" Poor girl! I did not sacrifice myself for you," said
the mother, shedding hot tears. " Yet I ask you to sac¬
rifice yourself for all. Happiness makes us selfish. Yes,
Marguerite, I have been weak because I was happy. Be
strong; preserve j'our own good sense to guard others
who as yet have none. Act so that your brothers and
your sister may not reproach my memory. Love your
father, and do not oppose him — too much."
She laid her head on her pillow and said no more;
her strength was gone; the inward struggle between
the Wife and the Mother had been too violent.
A few moments later the clergy came, preceded by
the Abbe de Solis, and the parlor was filled by the
166
The Alkahest.
children and the household. When the ceremony was
about to begin, Madame Claes, awakened by her con¬
fessor, looked about her and not seeing Balthazar said
quickly, —
" Where is my husband? "
The words — summing up, as it were, her life and
her death — were uttered in such lamentable tones that
all present shuddered. Martha, in spite of her great
age, darted out of the room, ran up the staircase and
through the gallery, and knocked loudly on the door of
the laboratory.
" Monsieur, madame is dying; they are waiting for
you, to administer the last sacraments," she cried with
the violence of indignation.
"Iam coming," answered Balthazar.
Lemulquinier came down a moment later, and said
his master was following him. Madame Claes's eyes
never left the parlor door, but her husband did not ap¬
pear until the ceremony was over. When at last he
entered, Josephine colored and a few tears rolled down
her cheeks.
"Were you trying to decompose nitrogen?" she
said to him with an angelic tenderness which made the
spectators quiver.
" I have done it! " he cried joyfully ; " Nitrogen con¬
tains oxygen and a substance of the nature of imponder¬
able matter, which is apparently the principle of— "
The Alkahest.
167
A murmur of horror interrupted his words and brought
him to his senses.
"What did they tell me?" he demanded. "Are
you worse ? What is the matter ? "
" This is the matter, monsieur," whispered the Abbe
de Solis,indignant at his conduct; "your wife is dying,
and you have killed her."
Without waiting for an answer the abbe took the arm
of his nephew and went out followed by the family, who
accompanied him to the court-yard. Balthazar stood as
if thunderstruck; he looked at his wife, and a few tears
dropped from his eyes.
"You are dying, and I have killed you!" he said.
" What does he mean? "
" My husband," she answered, " I only lived in your
love, and you have taken my life away from me; but
you knew not what you did."
" Leave us," said Claes to his children, who now re¬
entered the room. " Have I for one moment ceased to
love you?" he went on, sitting down beside his wife,
and taking her hands and kissing them.
" My friend, I do not blame you. You made me
happy — too happy, for I have not been able to bear
the contrast between our early married life, so full of
joy, and these last days, so desolate, so empty, when
you are not yourself. The life of the heart, like the
life of the body, has its functions. For six years you
168
The Alkahest.
have been dead to love, to the family, to all that was
once our happiness. I will not speak of our early mar¬
ried days ; such joys must cease in the after-time of life,
but they ripen into fruits which feed the soul, — confi¬
dence unlimited, the tender habits of affection: you have
torn those treasures from me ! I go in time : we live
together no longer; you hide your thoughts and actions
from me. How is it that you fear me ? Have I ever
given you one word, one look, one gesture of reproach?
And yet, you have sold your last pictures, you have sold
even the wine in your cellar, you are borrowing money
on your property, and have said no word to me. Ah !
I go from life weary of life. If you are doing wrong,
if you delude yourself in following the unattainable,
have I not shown you that my love could share your
faults, could walk beside you and be happy, though
you led me in the paths of crime ? You loved me too
well, —that was my glory ; it is now my death. Bal¬
thazar, my illness has lasted long ; it began on the day
when here, in this place where I am about to die, j"ou
showed me that Science was more to you than Family.
And now the end has come; your wife is dying, and
your fortune lost. Fortune and wife were yours, —
you could do what you willed with your own; but on
the day of my death my property goes to my children,
and you cannot touch it; what will then become of you ?
I am telling you the truth; I owe it to you. Dying
The Alkahest
169
ej-es see far: when I am gone will anything outweigh
that cursed passion which is now 3'our life ? If you have
sacrificed your wife, your children will count but little
in the scale ; for I must be just and own you loved me
above all. Two millions and six years of toil you have
cast into the gulf, — and what have you found ?"
At these words Claes grasped his whitened head in
his hands and hid his face.
" Humiliation for yourself, misery for your children,"
continued the dying woman. " You are called in de¬
rision ' Claes the alchemist;' soon it will be ' Claes the
madman.' For myself, I believe in you. I know you
great and wise ; I know your genius : but to the vulgar
eye genius is mania. Fame is a sun that lights the
dead ; living, you will be unhappy with the unhappiness
of great minds, and your children will be ruined. I go
before I see your fame, which might have brought me
consolation for my lost happiness. Oh, Balthazar!
make my death less bitter to me, let me be certain that
my children will not want for bread — Ah, nothing,
nothing, not even you, can calm my fears."
"I swear," said Claes, "to — "
"No, do not swear, that you may not fail of your
oath," she said, interrupting him. " You owed us your
protection; we have been without it seven years. Sci¬
ence is your life. A great man should have neither
wife nor children; he should tread alone the path of
170
The Alkahest.
sacrifice. His virtues are not the virtues of common
men; he belongs to the universe, he cannot belong to
wife or family; he sucks up the moisture of the earth
about him, like a majestic tree — and I, poor plant, I'
could not rise to the height of your life, I die at its
feet. I have waited for this last day to tell you these
dreadful thoughts : they came to me in the lightnings of
desolation and anguish. Oh, spare my children! let
these words echo in your heart. I cry them to you with
my last breath. The wife is dead, dead; you have
stripped her slowly, gradually, of her feelings, of her
joys. Alas ! without that cruel care could I have lived
so long ? But those poor children did not forsake me !
they have grown beside my anguish, the mother still
survives. Spare them! Spare my children!"
" Lemulquinier! " cried Claes in a voice of thunder.
The old man appeared.
"Go up and destroy all'—instruments, apparatus,
everything ! Be careful, but destroy all. I renounce
Science," he said to his wife.
" Too late," she answered, looking at Lemulquinier.
" Marguerite !" she cried, feeling herself about to die.
Marguerite came through the doorway and uttered a
piercing cry as she saw her mother's eyes now glazing.
" Marguerite ! " repeated the dying woman.
The exclamation contained so powerful an appeal
to her daughter, she invested that appeal with such
The Alkahest.
171
authority, that the cry was like a (tying bequest. The
terrified family ran to her side and saw her die; the
vital forces were exhausted in that last conversation
with her husband.
Balthazar and Marguerite stood motionless, she at
the head, he at the foot of the bed, unable to believe in
the death of the woman whose virtues and exhaustless
tenderness were known fully to them alone. Father and
daughter exchanged looks freighted with meaning: the
daughter judged the father, and already the father
trembled, foreseeing in his daughter an instrument of
vengeance. Though memories of the love with which
his Pepita had filled his life crowded upon his mind,
and gave to her dying words a sacred authority whose
voice his soul must ever hear, yet Balthazar knew him¬
self helpless in the grasp of his attendant genius; he
heard the terrible mutterings of his passion, denying
him the strength to carry his repentance into action:
he feared himself.
When the grave had closed upon Madame Claes, one
thought filled the minds of all, — the house had had a
soul, and that soul was now departed. The grief of the
family was so intense that the parlor, where the noble
woman still seemed to linger, was closed; no one had
the courage to enter it.
Artificial Sponges.—A new sponge industry
is being developed on the coast of Dalmatia asan
outcome of experiments by Prof. Oscar Schmidt,
of Styria. Prof. Schimdt planted in favourable
spots very small cuttings of live sponge, and in
three years was rewarded with a fine crop of large
sponges. The expense was small, the total cost of
fr»w-ih<m&and-_sDonges being not more than 225
francs.
172
The Alkahest.
X.
Society practises none of the virtues it demands from
individuals: every hour it commits crimes, but the
crimes are committed in words ; it paves the wa}T for
evil actions with a jest; it degrades nobility of soul
by ridicule; it jeers at sons who mourn their fathers,
anathematizes those who do not mourn them enough,
and finds diversion (the hypocrite!) in weighing the
dead bodies before they are cold.
The evening of the day on which Madame Claes died,
her friends cast a few flowers upon her memory in the
intervals of their games of whist, doing homage to her
noble qualities as they sorted their hearts and spades.
Then, after a few lachrymal phrases, — the fi, fo, fum
of collective grief, uttered in precisely the same tone,
and with neither more nor less of feeling, at all hours
and in every town in France, — they proceeded to esti¬
mate the value of her property. Pierquin was the first
to observe that the death of this excellent woman was
a merc}r, for her husband had made her unhappy ; and
it was even more fortunate for her children: she was
unable while living to refuse her money to the husband
The Alkahest.
173
she adored ; but now that she was dead, Claes was de¬
barred from touching it. Thereupon all present calcu¬
lated the fortune of that poor Madame Claes, wondered
how much she had laid by (had she, in fact, laid byr
anything?), made an inventory of her jewels, rummaged
in her wardrobe, peeped into her drawers, while the
afflicted family were still weeping and praying around
her death-bed.
Pierquin, with an appraising eye, stated that Madame
Claes's possessions in her own right — to use the no¬
tarial phrase — might still be recovered, and ought
to amount to nearly a million and a half of francs;
basing this estimate partly on the forest of Waignies, —
whose timber, counting the full-grown trees, the sap¬
lings, the primeval growths, and the recent plantations,
had immensely increased in value during the last twelve
years, — and partly on Balthazar's own property, of
which enough remained to " cover" the claims of his
children, if the liquidation of their mother's fortune did
not yield sufficient to release him. Mademoiselle Claes
was still, inPierquin's slang, "a four-hundred-thousand^
franc girl." " But," he added, " if she does n't marry,
— a step which would of course separate her interests
and permit us to sell the forest at auction, and so real¬
ize the property of the minor children and reinvest
it where the father can't lay hands on it, — Claes is
likety to ruin them all."
174
The Alkahest.
Thereupon, everybody- looked about for some eligible
young man worthy to win the hand of Mademoiselle
Claes ; but none of .them paid the lawyer the compliment
of suggesting that he might be the man. Pierquin, how¬
ever, found so man}' good reasons to reject the suggested
matches as unworthy of Marguerite's position, that the
confabulators glanced at each other and smiled, and
took malicious pleasure in prolonging this truly pro¬
vincial method of annoyance. Pierquin had already
decided that Madame Claes's death would have a favor¬
able effect upon his suit, and he began mentally to cut
up the body in his own interests.
" That good woman," he said to himself as he went
home to bed, " was as proud as a peacock; she would
never have given me her daughter. Hey, hey! why
could n't I manage matters now so as to marry the girl?
Pere Claes is drunk on carbon, and takes no care of his
children. If, after convincing Marguerite that she must
marry to save the property of her brothers and sister,
I were to ask him for his daughter, he will be glad to
get rid of a girl who is likely to thwart him."
He went to sleep anticipating the charms of the mar¬
riage contract, and reflecting on the advantages of the
step and the guarantees afforded for his happiness in
the person he proposed to marry. In all the provinces
there was certainly not a better brought-up or more del¬
icately lovely young girl than Mademoiselle Claes. Her
The Alkahest.
175
modest}7-, her grace, were like those of the pretty flower
Emmanuel had feared to name lest he should betray
the secret of his heart. Her sentiments were lofty, her
principles religious, she would undoubtedly make him a
a faithful wife: moreover, she not only flattered the
vanity which influences every man more or less in the
choice of a wife, but she gratified his pride by the high
consideration which her family, doubly ennobled, en¬
joyed in Flanders, — a consideration which her hus¬
band of course would share.
The next day Pierquin extracted from his strong-box
several thousand-franc notes, which he offered with
great friendliness to Balthazar, so as to relieve him of
pecuniary annoyance in the midst of his grief. Touched
by this delicate attention, Balthazar would, he thought,
praise his goodness and his personal qualities to Mar¬
guerite. In this he was mistaken. Monsieur Claes
and his daughter thought it was a very natural action,
and their sorrow was too absorbing to let them even
think of the lawyer.
Balthazar's despair was indeed so great that persons
who were disposed to blame his conduct could not do
otherwise than forgive him, —less on account of the Sci¬
ence which might have excused him, than for the re¬
morse which could not undo his deeds. Society is
satisfied by appearances : it takes what it gives, with¬
out considering the intrinsic worth of the article. To
176
The Alkahest.
the world real suffering is a show, a species of enjoy¬
ment, which inclines it to absolve even a criminal; in
its thirst for emotions it acquits without judging the
man who raises a laugh, or he who makes it weep,
making no inquiry into their methods.
Marguerite was just nineteen when her father put her
in charge of the household; and her brothers and sister,
whom Madame Claes in her last moments exhorted to
obey their elder sister, accepted her authority with do-
cilityr. Her mourning attire heightened the dewy white¬
ness of her skin, just as the sadness of her expression
threw into relief the gentleness and patience of her
manner. From the first she gave proofs of feminine
courage, of inalterable serenity, like that of angels ap¬
pointed to shed peace on suffering hearts by a touch
of their waving palms. But although she trained her¬
self, through a premature perception of dut}r, to hide
her personal grief, it was none the less bitter; her calm
exterior was not in keeping with the deep trouble of her
thoughts, and she was destined to undergo, too early in
life, those terrible outbursts of feeling which no heart is
able wholly to subdue: her father was to hold her in¬
cessantly under the pressure of natural youthful gen¬
erosity on the one hand, and the dictates of imperious
duty on the other. The cares which came upon her the
very day of her mother's death threw her into a struggle
with the interests of life at an age when young girls are
The Alkahest.
177
thinking only of its pleasures. Dreadful discipline of
suffering, which is never lacking to angelic natures !
The love which rests on money or on vanity is the
most persevering of passions. Pierquin resolved to
win the heiress without delay. A few days after Ma¬
dame Claes's death he took occasion to speak to Mar¬
guerite, and begaii operations with a cleverness which
might have succeeded if love had not given her the
power of clear insight and saved her from mistaking
appearances that were all the more specious because
Pierquin displayed his natural kindheartedness,—the
kindliness of a notary who thinks himself loving while
he protects a client's mone}\ Relying on his rather
distant relationship and his constant habit of managing
the business and sharing the secrets of the Claes famity,
sure of the esteem and friendship of the father, greatly
assisted by the careless inattention of that servant of
science who took no thought for the marriage of his
daughter, and not suspecting that Marguerite could
prefer another, — Pierquin unguardedly enabled her to
form a judgment on a suit in which there was no passion
except that of self-interest, alwa}Ts odious to a young
soul, and which he was not clever enough to conceal.
It was he who on this occasion was naively above-
board, it was she who dissimulated, — simply because
he thought he was dealing with a defenceless girl, and
wholty misconceived the privileges of weakness.
12
178
The Alkahest.
" My dear cousin," he said to Marguerite, with whom
he was walking about the paths of the little garden,
'' you know my heart, you understand how truly I
desire to respect the painful feelings which absorb you
at this moment. I have too sensitive a nature for a
law}rer; I live by my heart only, I am forced to spend
my time on the interests of others when I would fain let
myself enjoy the sweet emotions which make life happ}\
I suffer deeply in being obliged to talk to you of sub¬
jects so discordant with your state of mind, but it is
necessary. I have thought much about you during the
last few days. It is evident that through a fatal delu¬
sion the fortune of your brothers and sister and your
own are in jeopardy. Do you wish to save your family
from complete ruin ? "
"What must I do?" she asked, half-frightened by
his words.
"Marry," answered Pierquin.
" I shall not many," she said.
"Yes, you will marry," replied the notary, "when
you have soberly thought over the critical position in
which you are placed."
" How can my marriage save — "
" Ah! I knew you would consider it, my dear cousin,"
he exclaimed, interrupting her. " Marriage will eman¬
cipate you."
" Why should I be emancipated ?" asked Marguerite.
The Alkahest.
179
"Because marriage will put you at once into pos¬
session of your property, my dear little cousin," said
the lawyer in a tone of triumph. '' If you mar^ you
take your share of your mother's property. To give it
to you, the whole property must be liquidated; to do
that, it becomes necessary to sell the forest of Waignies.
That done, the proceeds will be capitalized, and your
father, as guardian, will be compelled to invest the for¬
tune of his children in such a way that Chemistry can't
get hold of it."
"And if I do not marry, what will happen?" she
asked.
"Well," said the notary, "your father will manage
your estate as lie pleases. If he returns to making
gold, he will probably sell the timber of the forest of
Waignies and leave his children as naked as the little
Saint Johns. The forest is now worth about fourteen
hundred thousand francs ; but from one day to another
you are not sure your father won't cut it down, and
then your thirteen hundred acres are not worth three
hundred thousand francs. Is n't it better to avoid this
almost certain clanger by at once compelling the divi¬
sion of property on your marriage? If the forest is
sold now, while Chemistry has gone to sleep, your
father will put the proceeds on the Grand-Livre. The
Funds are at 59 ; those dear children will get nearly
five thousand francs a year for every fifty thousand
180
The Alkahest.
francs: and, inasmuch as the property of minors
cannot be sold out, your brothers and sister will
find their fortunes doubled in value by the time they
come of age. Whereas, in the other case, — faith,
no one knows what may happen: your father has
already impaired your mother's property; we shall
find out the deficit when we come to make the inven-
toiy. If he is in debt to her estate, you will take a
mortgage on his, and in that way something may be
recovered — "
" For shame ! " said Marguerite. " It would be an
outrage on my father. It is not so long since my
mother uttered her last words that I have forgotten
them. My father is incapable of robbing his children,"
she continued, giving way to tears of distress. "You
misunderstand him, Monsieur Pierquin."
"But, my dear cousin, if your father gets back to
chemistry — "
"We are ruined; is that what you mean? "
"Yes, utterly ruined. Believe me, Marguerite," he
said, taking her hand which he placed upon his heart,
" I should fail of my duty if I did not persist in this
matter. Your interests alone — "
"Monsieur," said Marguerite, coldly withdrawing
her hand, " the true interests of my family require me
not to marry. My mother thought so."
"Cousin," he cried, with the earnestness of a man
The Alkahest.
181
who sees a fortune escaping him, "you commit sui¬
cide ; you fling your mother's property into a gulf.
Well, I will prove the devotion I feel for you: you
know not how I love you. I have admired you from
the day of that last ball, three years ago; you were
enchanting. Trust the voice of love when it speaks to
you of your own interests, Marguerite." He paused.
"Yes, we must call a family council and emancipate
you — without consulting you," he added.
" But what is it to be emancipated?"
" It is to enjoy your own rights."
"If I can be emancipated without being married,
why do you want me to marry? and whom should I
marry? "
Pierquin tried to look tenderly at his cousin, but the
expression contrasted so strongly with his hard ejms,
usually fixed on money, that Marguerite discovered the
self-interest in his improvised tenderness.
" You would marry the person who — pleases you —
the most," he said. "A husband is indispensable,
were it only as a matter of business. You are now
entering upon a struggle with your father; can you
resist him all alone?"
"Yes, monsieur; I shall know how to protect my
brothers and sister when the time comes."
"Pshaw! the obstinate creature," thought Pierquin.
" No, you will not resist him," he said aloud.
182
The Alkahest.
"Let us end the subject," she said.
"Adieu, cousin, I shall endeavor to serve you in
spite of yourself; I will prove my love by protecting
you against your will from a disaster which all the town
foresees."
"I thank you for the interest you take in me," she
answered ; " but I entreat you to propose nothing and
to undertake nothing which may give pain to my
father."
Marguerite stood thoughtfully watching Pierquin as
he departed; she compared his metallic voice, his
manners, flexible as a steel spring, his glance, ser¬
vile rather than tender, with the mute melodious
poetry in which Emmanuel's sentiments were wrapped.
No matter what may be said, or what may be done,
there exists a wonderful magnetism whose effects
never deceive. The tones of the voice, the glance,
the passionate gestures of a lover may be imitated;
a young girl can be deluded by a clever comedian;
but to succeed, the man must be alone in the field.
If the young girl has another soul beside her whose
pulses vibrate in unison with hers, she is able to dis¬
tinguish the expressions of a true love. Emmanuel,
like Marguerite, felt the influence of the clouds which,
from the time of their first meeting had gathered omi¬
nously about their heads, hiding from their eyes the
blue skies of love. His feeling for the Elect of his
The Alkahest.
183
heart was an idolatry which the total absence of hope
rendered gentle and mysterious in its manifestations.
Socially too far removed from Mademoiselle Claes by
his want of fortune, with nothing but a noble name to
offer her, he saw no chance of ever being her husband.
Yet he had always hoped for certain encouragements
which Marguerite refused to give before the failing eyes
of her dying mother. Both equally pure, they had
never said to one another a word of love. Their joys
were solitary joys tasted by each alone. They trembled
apart, though together they quivered beneath the rays
of the same hope. They seemed to fear themselves,
conscious that each only too surely belonged to the
other. Emmanuel trembled lest he should touch the
hand of the sovereign to whom he had made a shrine
in his heart; a chance contact would have roused hopes
that were too ardent, he could not then have mastered
the force of his passion. And yet, while neither be¬
stowed the vast, though trivial, the innocent and yet
all-meaning signs of love that even timid lovers allow
themselves, they were so firmly fixed in each other's
hearts that both were ready to make the greatest sacri¬
fices, which were, indeed, the only pleasures their love
could expect to taste.
Since Madame Claes's death this hidden love was
shrouded in mourning. The tints of the sphere in which
it lived, dark and dim from the first, were now black;
181
The Alkahest.
the few lights were veiled by tears. Marguerite's reserve
changed to coldness ; she remembered the promise ex¬
acted by her mother. With more freedom of action, she
nevertheless became more distant. Emmanuel shared
his beloved's grief, comprehending that the slightest
word or wish of love at such a time transgressed the laws
of the heart. Their love was therefore more concealed
than it had ever been. These tender souls sounded the
same note : held apart by grief, as formerly by the
timidities of youth and by respect for the sufferings of
the mother, they clung to the magnificent language
of the eyes, the mute eloquence of devoted actions,
the constant unison of thoughts, —divine harmonies of
3Touth, the first steps of a love still in its infancy.
Emmanuel came every morning to inquire for Claes
and Marguerite, but he never entered the dining-room,
where the family now sat, unless to bring a letter from
(Gabriel or when Balthazar invited him to come in.
His first glance at the young girl contained a thousand
sympathetic thoughts ; it told her that he suffered under
these conventional restraints, that he never left her, he
was always with her, he shared her grief. He shed the
tears of his own pain into the soul of his dear one by a
look that was marred by no selfish reservation. His
good heart lived so completely in the present, he clung
so firmly to a happiness which he believed to be fugi¬
tive, that Marguerite sometimes reproached herself for
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185
not generously holding out her hand and saying, " Let
us at least be friends."
Pierquin continued his suit with an obstinacy which
is the unreflecting patience of fools. He judged Mar¬
guerite by the ordinary rules of the multitude when
judging of women. He believed that the words mar¬
riage, freedom, fortune, which he had put into her mind,
would germinate and flower into wishes by which he
could profit; he imagined that her coldness was mere
dissimulation. But surround her as he would with gal¬
lant attentions, he could not hide the despotic ways of
a man accustomed to manage the private affairs of
man}' families with a high hand. He discoursed to her
in those platitudes of consolation common to his profes¬
sion, which crawl like snails over the suffering mind,
leaving behind them a trail of barren words which pro¬
fane its sanctity. His tenderness was mere wheedling.
He dropped his feigned melancholy at the door when
he put on his overshoes, or took his umbrella. He
used the tone his long intimacy authorized as an in¬
strument to work himself still further into the bosom
of the family, and bring Marguerite to a marriage which
the whole town was beginning to foresee. The true,
devoted, respectful, love formed a striking contrast
to its selfish, calculating semblance. Each man's con¬
duct was homogeneous: one feigned a passion and
seized every advantage to obtain the prize; the other
186
The Alkahest.
hid his love and trembled lest he should betray his
devotion.
Some time after the death of her mother, and, as it
happened, on the same day, Marguerite was enabled to
compare the only two men of whom she had any oppor¬
tunity of judging; for the social solitude to which she
was condemned kept her from seeing life and gave no
access to those who might think of her in marriage.
One day after breakfast, on a fine morning in April,
Emmanuel called at the house just as Monsieur Claes
was going out. The aspect of his own house was so
unendurable to Balthazar that he spent part of every
day in walking about the ramparts. Emmanuel made
a motion as if to follow him, then he hesitated, seemed
to gather up his courage, looked at Marguerite and re¬
mained. The young girl felt sure that he wished to
speak with her, and asked him to go into the garden;
then she sent Felicie to Martha, who was sewing in
the antechamber on the upper floor, and seated herself
on a garden-seat in full view of her sister and the old
duenna.
" Monsieur Claes is as much absorbed by grief as he
once was by science," began the young man, watching
Balthazar as he slowly crossed the court-yard. " Every
one in Douai pities him ; he moves like a man who has
lost all consciousness of life; he stops without a pur¬
pose, he gazes without seeing anything."
The Alkahest.
187
" Every sorrow has its own expression," said Mar¬
guerite, checking her tears. " What is it you wish to
say to me ? " she added after a pause, coldly and with
dignity.
" Mademoiselle," answered Emmanuel in a voice of
feeling, "I scarcely know if I have the right to speak
to you as I am about to do ? Think only of my desire
to be of service to you, and give me the right of a
teacher to be interested in the future of a pupil. Your
brother Gabriel is over fifteen; he is in the second class ;
it is now necessary to direct his studies in the line of
whatever future career he may take up. It is for your
father to decide what that career shall be: if he gives
the matter no thought, the injury to Gabriel will be se¬
rious. But then, again, would it not mortify your
father if you showed him that he is neglecting his son's
interests ? Under these circumstances, could you not
yourself consult Gabriel as to his tastes, and help him
to choose a career, so that later, if his father should
think of making him a public officer, an administra¬
tor, a soldier, he might be prepared with some spe¬
cial training ? I do not suppose that either you or
Monsieur Claes would wish to bring Gabriel up in
idleness."
" Oh, no ! " said Marguerite ; " when my mother
taught us to make lace, and took such pains with
our drawing and music and embroidery, she often said
188
The Alkahest.
we must be prepared for whatever might happen to us.
Gabriel ought to have a thorough education and a per¬
sonal value. But tell me, what career is the best for a
man to choose ? "
"Mademoiselle," said Emmanuel, trembling with
pleasure, " Gabriel is at the head of his class in mathe¬
matics ; if he would like to enter the Ecole Polytech-
nique, he could there acquire the practical knowledge
which will fit him for any career. When he leaves the
Ecole he can choose the path in life for which he feels
the strongest bias. Thus, without compromising his
future, you will have saved a great deal of time. Men
r
who leave the Ecole with honors are sought after on all
sides; the school turns out statesmen, diplomats, men
of science, engineers, generals, sailors, magistrates,
manufacturers, and bankers. There is nothing ex¬
traordinary in the son of a rich or noble family pre¬
paring himself to enter it. If Gabriel decides on this
course I shall ask you to — will you grant my request?
Say yes!"
"What is it?"
" Let me be his tutor," he answered, trembling.
Marguerite looked at Monsieur de Solis; then she
took his hand, and said, "Yes" — and paused, add¬
ing presently in a broken voice: —
" How much I value the delicacy which makes
you offer me a thing I can accept from you. • In all
The Alkahest.
189
that you have said I see how much you have thought
for us. I thank you."
Though the words were simply said, Emmanuel
turned away his head not to show the tears that the
delight of being useful to her brought to his eyes.
"I will bring both boys to see you," he said, when
he was a little calmer; " to-morrow is a holiday."
He rose and bowed to Marguerite, who followed him
into the house ; when he had crossed the court-yard he
turned and saw her still at the door of the dining-room,
from which she made him a friendly sign.
After dinner Pierquin came to see Monsieur Claes,
and sat down between father and daughter on the very
bench in the garden where Emmanuel had sat that
morning.
"My dear cousin," he said to Balthazar, "I have
come to-night to talk to you on business. It is now
forty-two days since the decease of your wife."
" I keep no account of time," said Balthazar, wiping
away the tears that came at the word " decease."
"Oh, monsieur!" cried Marguerite, looking at the
lawyer, "how can you?"
"But, my dear Marguerite, we notaries are obliged
to consider the limits of time appointed by law. This
is a matter which concerns you and your co-heirs.
Monsieur Claes has none but minor children, and he
must make an inventory of his property within forty-
190
The Alkahest.
five days of his wife's decease, so as to render in his
accounts at the end of that time. It is necessary to
know the value of his property before deciding whether
to accept it as sufficient security, or whether we must
fall back on the legal rights of minors."
Marguerite rose.
"Do not go away, my dear cousin," continued Pier-
quin; '' my words concern you — you and your father
both. You know how truly I share your grief, but to¬
day you must give your attention to legal details. If
you do not, every one of you will get into serious dif¬
ficulties. I am only doing my duty as the family
lawyer."
" He is right," said Claes.
" The time expires in two days," resumed Pierquin ;
" and I must begin the inventory to-morrow, if only to
postpone the payment of the legacy-tax which the pub¬
lic treasurer will come here and demand. Treasurers
have no hearts; they don't trouble themselves about
feelings ; they fasten their claws upon us at all seasons.
Therefore for the next two days my clerk and I will be
here from ten till four with Monsieur Eaparlier, the
public appraiser. After we get through the town prop¬
erty we shall go into the country. As for the forest of
Waignies, we shall be obliged to hold a consultation
about that. Now let us turn to another matter. We
must call a family council and appoint a guardian to
The Alkahest.
191
protect the interests of the minor children. Monsieur
Conyncks of Bruges is your nearest relative; but he
has now become a Belgian. You ought," continued
Pierquin, addressing Balthazar, "to write to him on
this matter; you can then find out if he has any inten¬
tion of settling in France, where he has a fine property.
Perhaps you could persuade him and his daughter to
move into French Flanders. If he refuses, then I must
see about making up the council with the other near
relatives."
"What is the use of an inventory?" asked Mar¬
guerite.
'' To put on record the value and the claims of the
property, its debts and its assets. When that is all
clearly scheduled, the family council, acting on behalf
of the minors, makes such dispositions as it sees
fit."
"Pierquin," said Claes, rising from the bench, "do
all that is necessary to protect the rights of my chil¬
dren ; but spare us the distress of selling the things
that belonged to my dear—" he was unable to con¬
tinue ; but he spoke with so noble an air and in a tone
of such deep feeling that Marguerite took her father's
hand and kissed it.
" To-morrow, then," said Pierquin.
'' Come to breakfast," said Claes ; then he seemed to
gather his scattered senses together and exclaimed;
192
The Alkahest.
"But in my marriage contract, which • was drawn
under the laws of Hainault, I released my wife from
the obligation of making an inventory, in order that
she might not be annoyed by it: it is very probable
that I was equally released — "
"Oh, what happiness!" cried Marguerite. "It
would have been so distressing to us."
"Well, I will look into your marriage contract to¬
morrow," said the notary, rather confused.
" Then you did not know of this ?" said Marguerite.
This remark closed the interview; the lawyer was
far too much confused to continue it after the young
girl's comment.
"The devil is in it!" he said to himself as he
crossed the court-yard. " That man's wandering mem¬
ory comes back to him in the nick of time, —just when
he needed it to hinder us from taking precautions
against him! I have cracked my brains to save the
property of those children. I meant to proceed regu¬
larly and come to an understanding with old Conjuicks,
and here's the end of it! I shall lose ground with
Marguerite, for she will certainly ask her father why I
wanted an inventory of the property, which she now
sees was not necessary; and Claes will tell her that
notaries have a passion for writing documents, that we
are lawyers above all, above cousins or friends or
relatives, and all such stuff as that."
The Alkahest.
193
He slammed the street door violently, railing at
clients who ruin themselves by sensitiveness.
Balthazar was right. No inventory could be made.
Nothing, therefore, was done to settle the relation of
the father to the children in the matter of property.
A FRAGMENT.
When the Monolith nods in its lair,
When the butterfly chirps to the drone,
• When Asbestos has buried hiscare,
'Neath the oval philosopher's stone.
Oh, then wreath tire daffodil's song1,
Round the walrus's pale dappled brow,
While whispering whartles all throng,
To the honey-flecked juniper bough.
And if the weird Plethora's mate
Should creep to the Cacophone's niece,
These tortuous woodbines are straight
And the dawn of the Dcdo is peace,
Opodeldoc is melting to curd,
And far on the Caspian sea
The pale crescent moon may be heard
In her hundred and third apogee.
Loud sings the Mohurrum in glee,
And his Saraband wanes up aloft;
"Si Tityre tu patufee,
Recubans sub tegmine " soft ?
Do you think there is sense in my layi
Do you think there is wisdom in me?
If you do, and you do, I dare say,
• Why, then what an ass you must be !■'
Chari.es Collette.
13"
194
The Alkahest.
XI.
' Several months went by and brought no change to
the House of Claes.' Gabriel, under the wise manage¬
ment of his tutor, Monsieur de Solis, worked studiously,
acquired foreign languages, and prepared to pass the
necessary examinations to enter the Ecole Polytech-
nique. Marguerite and Felicie lived in absolute retire¬
ment, going in summer to their father's country place
as a measure of economy. Monsieur Claes attended to
his business affairs, paid his debts by borrowing a con¬
siderable sum of money on his property, and went to
see the forest at "Waignies.
About the middle of the year 1817, his grief, slowly
abating, left him a prey to solitude and defenceless
under the monotony of the life he was leading, which
heavily oppressed him. At first he struggled bravely
against the allurements of Science as they gradually be¬
set him; he forbade himself even to think of Chemistry.
Then he did think of it. Still, he would not actively
take it up, and only gave his mind to his researches
theoretically. Such constant study, however, swelled
his passion which soon became exacting. He asked
The Alkahest.
195
himself whether he was really bound not to continue his
researches, and remembered that his wife had refused
his oath. Though he had pledged his word to himself
that he would never pursue the solution of the great
Problem, might he not change that determination at a
moment when he foresaw success ? He was now fifty-
nine years old. At that age a predominant idea con¬
tracts a certain peevish fixedness which is the first
stage of monomania.
Circumstances conspired against his tottering loy¬
alty. The peace which Europe now enjoyed encour¬
aged the circulation of discoveries and scientific ideas
acquired during the war by the learned of various coun¬
tries, who for nearly twenty years had been unable to
hold communication. Science was making great strides.
Claes found that the progress of chemistry had been
directed, unknown to chemists themselves, towards the
object of his researches. Learned men devoted to the
higher sciences thought, as he did., that light, heat,
electricity, galvanism, magnetism were all different ef¬
fects of the same cause, and that the difference existing
between substances hitherto considered simple must be
produced by varying proportions of an unknown princi¬
ple. The fear that some other chemist might effect the
reduction of metals and discover the constituent prin¬
ciple of electricit}*, — two achievements which would
lead to the solution of the chemical Absolute, —
196
The Alkahest.
increased what the people of Douai called a mania, and
drove his desires to a paroxysm conceivable to those
who devote themselves to the sciences, or who have
ever known the tyranny of ideas.
Thus it happened that Balthazar was again carried
away by a passion all the more violent because it
had lain dormant so long. Marguerite, who watched
every evidence of her father's state of mind, opened
the long-closed parlor. By living in it she recalled
the painful memories which her mother's death had
caused, and succeeded for a time in re-awaking her
father's grief, and retarding his plunge into the gulf to
the depths of which he was, nevertheless, doomed, to
fall. She determined to go into society and force Bal¬
thazar to share in its distractions. Several good mar¬
riages were proposed to her, which occupied Claes's
mind, but to all of them she replied that she should not
marry until after she was twenty-five. But in spite of
his daughter's efforts, in spite of his remorseful strug¬
gles, Balthazar, at the beginning of the winter, returned
secretly to his researches. It was difficult, however,
to hide his operations from the inquisitive wromen in
the kitchen ; and one morning Martha, while dressing
Marguerite, said to her: —
"Mademoiselle, we are as good as lost. That mon¬
ster of a Mulquinier — who is a devil disguised, for I
never saw him make the sign of the cross — has gone
The Alkahest.
19T
back to the garret. There's monsieur on the high-road
to hell. Pray God he may n't kill you as he killed
my poor mistress."
"It is not possible ! " exclaimed Marguerite.
" Come and see the signs of their traffic."
Mademoiselle Claes ran to the window and saw the
light smoke rising from the flue of the laboratory.
" I shall be twenty-one in a few months," she thought,
'' and I shall know how to oppose the destruction of our
property."
In giving way to his passion Balthazar necessarily
felt less respect for the interests of his children than he
formerly had felt for the happiness of his wife. The
barriers were less high, his conscience was more elastic,
his passion had increased in strength. He now set
forth in his career of glory, toil, hope, and povert}*, with
the fervor of a man profoundly trustful of his convic¬
tions. Certain of the result, he worked night and day
with a fury that alarmed his daughters, who did not
know how little a man is injured by work that gives
him pleasure.
Her father had no sooner recommenced his experi¬
ments than Marguerite retrenched the superfluities of
the table, showing a parsimony worthy of a miser, in
which Josette and Martha admirably seconded her.
Claes never noticed the change which reduced the
household living to the merest necessaries. First he
198
The Alkahest.
ceased to breakfast with the family ; then he only left
his laboratory when dinner was ready; and at last, be¬
fore he went to bed, he would sit some hours in the
parlor between his daughters without saying a word to
either of them ; when he rose to go upstairs they wished
him good-night, and he allowed them mechanically to
kiss him on both cheeks. Such conduct would have led
to great domestic misfortunes had Marguerite not been
prepared to exercise the authority of a mother, and if,
moreover, she were not protected by a secret love from
the dangers of so much liberty.
Pierquin had ceased to come to the house, judging
that the family ruin would soon be complete. Bal¬
thazar's rural estates, which yielded sixteen thousand
francs a year, and were worth about six hundred thou¬
sand, were now encumbered by mortgages to the
amount of three hundred thousand francs ; for, in order
to recommence his researches, Claes had borrowed a
considerable sum of money. The rents were exactly
enough to pa}*- the interest of the mortgages ; but, with
the improvidence of a man who is the slave of an idea,
he made over the income from his farm lands to Mar¬
guerite for the expenses of the household, and the no¬
tary calculated that three years would suffice to bring
matters to a crisis, when the law would step in and eat
up all that Balthazar had not squandered. Marguerite's
coldness brought Pierquin to a state of almost hostile
The Alkahest.
199
indifference. To give himself an appearance in the
eyes of the world of having renounced her hand, he
frequently remarked of the Claes family in a tone of
compassion : —
" Those poor people are ruined; I have done my best
to save them. Well, it can't be helped ; Mademoiselle
Claes refused to employ the legal means which might
have rescued them from poverty."
Emmanuel de Solis, who was now principal of the
college-school in Douai, thanks to the influence of his
uncle and to his own merits which made him worthy of
the post, came every evening to see the two young girls,
who called the old duenna into the .parlor as soon as
their father had gone to bed. Emmanuel's gentle rap
at the street-door was never missing. For the last three
months, encouraged by the gracious, though mute grati¬
tude with which Marguerite now accepted his attentions,
he became at his ease, and was seen for what he was.
The brightness of his pure spirit shone like a flawless
diamond; Marguerite learned to understand its strength
and its constancy when she saw how inexhaustible was
the source from which it came. She loved to watch the
unfolding, one by one, of the blossoms of his heart,
whose perfume she had already breathed. Each day
Emmanuel realized some one of Marguerite's hopes,
and illumined the enchanted regions of love with new
lights that chased away the clouds and brought to view
200
The Alkahest.
the serene heavens, giving color to the fruitful riches
hidden away in the shadow of their lives. More at his
ease, the young man could display the seductive quali¬
ties of his heart until now discreetly hidden, the expan¬
sive gayety of his age, the simplicity which comes of a
life of study, the treasures of a delicate mind that life
has not adulterated, the innocent joyousness which goes
so well with loving youth. His soul and Marguerite's
understood each other better; they went together to
the depths of their hearts and found in each the same
thoughts, —pearls of equal lustre, sweet fresh harmonies
like those the legends tell of beneath the waves, which
fascinate the divers. They made themselves known to
one another b}r an interchange of thought, a reciprocal
introspection which bore the signs, in both, of exquisite
sensibility. It was done without false shame, but not
without mutual coquetry. The two hours which Em¬
manuel spent with the sisters and old Martha enabled
Marguerite to accept the life of anguish and renuncia¬
tion on which she had entered. This artless, progressive
love was her support. In all his testimonies of affection
Emmanuel showed the natural grace that is so winning,
the sweet yet subtile mind which breaks the uniformity
of sentiment as the facets of a diamond relieve, by their
many-sided fires, the monotony of the stone, — adorable
wisdom, the secret of loving hearts, which makes a
woman pliant to .the artistic hand that gives new life to
The Alkahest.
201
old, old forms, and refreshes with novel modulations
the phrases of love. Love is not only a sentiment,
it is an art. Some simple word, a trifling vigilance,
a nothing, reveals to a woman the great, the divine
artist who shall touch her heart and yet not blight [it.
The more Emmanuel was free to utter himself, the more
charming were the expressions of his love.
" I have tried to get here before Pierquin," he said
to Marguerite one evening. " He is bringing some bad
news; I would rather you heard it from me. Your
father has sold all the timber in your forest at Waig-
nies to speculators, who have resold it to dealers. The
trees are already felled, and the logs are carried away.
Monsieur Claes received three hundred thousand francs
in cash as a first instalment of the price, which he has
used towards paying his bills in Paris ; but to clear off
his debts entirely he has been forced to assign a hun¬
dred thousand francs of the three hundred thousand
still due to him on the purchase-money."
Pierquin entered at this moment.
" Ah! my dear cousin," he said, " you are ruined.
I told you how it would be ; but you would not listen
to me. Your father has an insatiable appetite. He
has swallowed your woods at a mouthful. Your family
guardian, Monsieur Cony neks, is just now absent in
Amsterdam, and Claes has seized the opportunity to
strike the blow. It is all wrong. I have written to
202
The Alkahest.
Monsieur Cony neks, but lie will get here too late;
everything will be squandered. You will be obliged to
sue your father. The suit can't be long, but it will be
dishonorable. Monsieur Cony neks has no alternative
but to institute proceedings ; the law requires it. This
is the result of your obstinac}'. Do you now see my
prudence, and how devoted I was to your interests?"
" I bring you some good news, mademoiselle," said
young de Solis in his gentle voice. " Gabriel has been
admitted to the Ecole Polytechnique. The difficulties
that seemed in the way have all been removed."
Marguerite thanked him with a smile as she said : —-
"My savings will now come in play! Martha, we
must begin to-morrow on Gabriel's outfit. My poor
Felicie, we shall have to work hard," she added, kissing
her sister's forehead.
" To-morrow you shall have him at home, to remain
ten days," said Emmanuel; " he must be in Paris by
the fifteenth of November."
" My cousin Gabriel has done a sensible thing," said
the lawyer, eyeing the professor from head to foot;
" for he will have to make his own way. But, my dear
cousin, the question now is how to save the honor of the
family: will you listen to what I say this time ? "
" No," she said, " not if it relates to marriage."
" Then what will you do? "
"I? — nothing."
The Alkahest.
203
" But j'ou are of age."
'' I shall be in a few days. Have you any course to
suggest to me," she added, " which will reconcile our
interests with the duty we owe to our father and to the
honor of the family? "
" My dear cousin, nothing can be done till your uncle
arrives. When he does, I will call again."
" Adieu, monsieur," said Marguerite.
" The poorer she is the more airs she gives herself,"
thought the notary. " Adieu, mademoiselle," he said
aloud. "Monsieur, my respects to you ; " and he went
away, paying no attention to Felicie or Martha.
"I have been studying the Code for the last two
days, and I have consulted an experienced old lawyer,
a friend of my uncle," said Emmanuel, in a hesitating
voice. " If you will allow me, I will go to Amsterdam
to-morrow and see Monsieur Conyncks. Listen, dear
Marguerite — "
He uttered her name for the first time ; she thanked
him with a smile and a tearful glance, and made a
gentle inclination of her head. He paused, looking
at Felicie and Martha.
"Speak before my sister," said Marguerite. "She
is so docile and courageous that she does not need this
discussion to make her resigned to our life of toil and
privation ; but it is best that she should see for herself
how necessary courage is to us."
204
The Alkahest.
The two sisters clasped hands and kissed each other,
as if to renew some pledge of union before the coming
disaster.
"Leave us, Martha."
" Dear Marguerite," said Emmanuel, letting the hap¬
piness he felt in conquering the lesser rights of affec¬
tion sound in the inflections of his voice, " I have
procured the names and addresses of the purchasers
who still owe the remaining two hundred thousand
francs on the felled timber. To-morrow, if you give
consent, a lawyer acting in the name of Monsieur
Conyncks, who will not disavow the act, will serve an
injunction upon them. Six clays hence, by which time
your uncle will have returned, the family council can
be called together, and Gabriel put in possession of
his legal rights, for he is now eighteen. You and your
brother being thus authorized to use those rights, you
will demand your share in the proceeds of the timber.
Monsieur Claes cannot refuse you the two hundred
thousand francs on which the injunction will have been
put; as to the remaining hundred thousand which is
due to you, you must obtain a mortgage on this house.
Monsieur Conyncks will demand securities for the three
hundred thousand belonging to Felicie and Jean.
Under these circumstances your father will be obliged
to mortgage his property on the plain of Orchies,
which he has already encumbered to the amount of
The Alkahest.
205
three hundred thousand francs. The law gives a retro¬
spective priority to the claims of minors ; and that will
save you. Monsieur Claes's hands will be tied for the
future ; your property becomes inalienable, and he can
no longer borrow on his own estates because they will
be held as security for other sums. Moreover, the
whole can be done quietly, without scandal or legal
proceedings. Your father will be forced to greater
prudence in making his researches, even if he cannot
be persuaded to relinquish them altogether."
" Yes," said Marguerite, " but where, meantime, can
we find the means of living? The hundred thousand
francs for which, you say, I must obtain a mortgage on
this house, would bring in nothing while we still live
here. The proceeds of my father's property in the coun¬
try will pay the interest on the three hundred thousand
francs he owes to others ; but how are we to live ? "
"In the first place," said Emmanuel, "by investing
the fifty thousand francs which belong to Gabriel in the
public Funds you will get, according to present rates,
more than four thousand francs' income, which will
suffice to pay your brother's board and lodging and all
his other expenses in Paris. Gabriel canpot touch the
capital until he is of age, therefore you need not fear
that he will waste a penny of it, and you will have one
expense the less. Besides, you will have your own
fifty thousand."
206
The Alkahest.
"My father will ask me for them," she said in a
frightened tone; "and X shall not be able to refuse
him."
"Well, dear Marguerite, even so, you can evade
that by robbing yourself. Place your money in the
Grand-Livre in Gabriel's name: it will bring you
twelve or thirteen thousand francs a year. Minors
who are emancipated cannot sell property without per¬
mission of the family council; you will thus gain three
years' peace of mind. By that time your father will
either have solved his problem or renounced it; and
Gabriel, then of age, will reinvest the money in your
own name."
Marguerite made him explain to her once more the
legal points which she did not at first understand. It
was certainly a novel sight to see this pair of lovers
poring over the Code, which Emmanuel had brought
with him to show his mistress the laws which pro¬
tected the property of minors; she quickly caught
the meaning of them, thanks to the natural penetra¬
tion of women, wrhich in this case love still further
sharpened.
Gabriel canje home to his father's house on the fol¬
lowing day. When Monsieur de Solis brought him up
to Balthazar and told of his admission to the Ecole
Poly technique, the father thanked the professor with a
wave of his hand, and said : —■
The Alkahest.
207
"I am very glad; Gabriel may become a man of
science."
"Oh, my brother," cried Marguerite, as Balthazar
went back to his laboratory, "work hard, waste no
money; spend what is necessary, but practise economy.
On the days when you are allowed to go out, pass
your time with our friends and relations ; contract none
of the habits which ruin young men in Paris. Your
expenses will amount to nearly three thousand francs,
and that will leave you a thousand francs for your
pocket-money; that is surely enough."
"I will answer for him," said Emmanuel de Solis,
laying his hand on his pupil's shoulder.
A month later, Monsieur Conyncks, in conjunction
with Marguerite, had obtained all necessary securities
from Claes. The plan so wisely proposed by Emman¬
uel de Solis was fully approved and executed. Face to
face with the law, and in presence of his cousin, whose
stern sense of honor allowed no compromise, Balthazar,
ashamed of the sale of the timber to which he had con¬
sented at a moment when he was harassed by creditors,
submitted to all that was demanded of him. Glad to
repair the almost involuntary wrong that he had done
to his children, he signed the deeds in a preoccupied
way. He was now as careless and improvident as a
negro who sells his wife in the morning for a drop of
brandy, and cries for her at night. He gave no
208
The Alkahest.
thought to even the immediate future, and never asked
himself what resources he would have when his last
ducat was melted up. He pursued his work and con¬
tinued his purchases, apparently unaware that he was
now no more than the titular owner of his house and
lands, and that he could not, thanks to the severity of
the laws, raise another penny upon a property of which
he was now, as it were, the legal guardian.
The year 1818 ended without bringing any new mis¬
fortune. The sisters paid the costs of Jean's education
and met all the expenses of the household out of the
thirteen thousand francs a year from the sum placed in
the Grancl-Livre in Gabriel's name, which he punctually
remitted to them. Monsieur de Solis lost his uncle,
the abbe, in December of that year.
• Early in January Marguerite learned through Martha
that her father had sold his collection of tulips, also the
furniture of the front house, and all the family silver.
She was obliged to buy back the spoons and forks that
were necessary for the daily service of the table, and
these she now ordered to be stamped with her initials.
Until that day Marguerite had kept silence towards
her father on the subject of his depredations, but that
evening after dinner she requested Felicie to leave her
alone with him, and when he seated himself as usual by
the corner of the parlor fireplace, she said: —
"My dear father, you are the master here, and can
The Alkahest.
209
sell everything, even your children. We are rea,dy to
obey you without a murmur; but I am forced to tell
you that we are without money, that we have barely
enough to live on, and that Felicie and I are obliged to
work night and day to pay for the schooling of little
Jean with the price of the lace dress we are now
making. My dear father, I implore 3*011 to give up
your researches."
"You are right, my dear child; in sis weeks they
will be finished; I shall have found the Absolute, 01*
the Absolute will be proved undiscoverable. You will
have millions — "
'' Give us meanwhile the bread to eat," replied
Marguerite.
" Bread ? is there no bread here ?" said Claes, with
a frightened air. " No bread in the house of a Claes !
What has become of our property ? "
" You have cut down the forest of Waignies. The
ground has not been cleared and is therefore unproduc¬
tive. As for your farms at Orchies, the rents scarcely
suffice to pay the interest of the sums jtou have
borrowed — "
" Then what are we living on?" he demanded.
Marguerite held up her needle and continued: —
"Gabriel's income helps us, but it is insufficient; I
can make both ends meet at the close of the year if you
do not overwhelm me with bills that I do not expect,
It
210
The Alkahest.
for purchases you tell me nothing about. When I think
I have enough to meet my quarterly expenses some un¬
expected bill for potash, or zinc, or sulphur, is brought
to me."
" My dear child, have patience for six weeks ; after
that, I will be judicious. My little Marguerite, you
shall see wonders."
" It is time you should think of your affairs. You
have sold everything, —pictures, tulips, plate ; nothing
is left. At least, refrain from making debts."
"I don't wish to make any more! " he said.
" Any more?" she cried, " then you have some ?"
" Mere trifles," he said, but he dropped his eyes and
colored.
For the first time in her life Marguerite felt humiliated
by the lowering of her father's character, and suffered
from it so much that she dared not question him.
A month after this scene one of the Douai bankers
brought a bill of exchange for ten thousand francs
signed by Claes. Marguerite asked the banker to wait
a da}*, and expressed her regret that she had not been
notified to prepare for this payment; whereupon he
informed her that the house of Protez and Chiffreville
held nine other bills to the same amount, falling due in
consecutive months.
"All is over!" cried Marguerite, "the time has
come."
The Alkahest.
211
She sent for her father, and walked up and down the
parlor with hasty steps, talking to herself: —
" A hundred thousand francs ! " she cried. " I must
find them, or see my. father in prison. What am I to
do?"
Balthazar did not come. Weary of waiting for him,
Marguerite went up to the laboratory. As she entered
she saw him in the middle of an immense, brilliantly-
lighted room, filled with machinery and dusty glass ves¬
sels : here and there were books, and tables encumbered
with specimens and products ticketed and numbered.
On all sides the disorder of scientific pursuits con¬
trasted strongly with Flemish habits. This litter of re¬
torts and vaporizers, metals, fantastically colored crys¬
tals, specimens hooked upon the walls or lying on the
furnaces, surrounded the central figure of Balthazar
Claes, without a coat, his arms bare like those of a
workman, his breast exposed, and showing the white
hairs which covered it. His eyes were gazing with
horrible fixity at a pneumatic trough. The receiver of
this instrument was covered with a lens made of double
convex glasses, the space between the glasses being
filled with alchohol, which focussed the light coming
through one of the compartments of the rose-window of
the garret. The shelf of the receiver communicated
with the wire of an immense galvanic batter}'. Lemul-
quinier, busy at the moment in moving the pedestal of
212
The Alkahest.
the machine, which was placed on a movable axle so as
to keep the lens in a perpendicular direction to the ra}*s
of the sun, turned round, his face black with dust, and
called out, —
" Ha ! mademoiselle, don't come in."
The aspect of her father, half-kneeling beside the in¬
strument, and receiving the full strength of the sunlight
upon his head, the protuberances of his skull, its scanty
hairs resembling threads of silver, his face contracted
by the agonies of expectation, the strangeness of the
objects that surrounded him, the obscurity of parts of
the vast garret from which fantastic engines seemed
about to spring, all contributed to startle Marguerite,
who said to herself, in terror, —
" He is mad ! "
Then she went up to him and whispered in his ear,
" Send away Lemulquinier."
" No, no, my child ; I want him : I am in the midst
of an experiment no one has yet thought of. For the
last three days we have been watching for ever}* ray of
sun. I now have the means of submitting metals, in a
complete vacuum, to concentrated solar fires and to
electric currents. At this very moment the most pow¬
erful action a chemist can emplo}* is about to show re¬
sults which I alone — "
"My father, instead of vaporizing metals you should
employ them in pa}Ting your notes of hand •—"
The Alkahest.
213
" Wait, wait! "
"Monsieur Mersktus has been here, father; and he
must have ten thousand francs by four o'clock."
"Yes, yes, presently* True, I did sign a little note
which is payable this month. I felt sure I should have
found the Absolute. Good God ! If I could onh- have
a July sun the experiment would be successful."
He grasped his head and sat down on an old cane
chair; a few tears rolled from his eyes.
'' Monsieur is quite right," said Lemulquinier; " it is
all the fault of that rascally sun which is too feeble, —
the coward, the lazy thing! "
Master and valet paid no further attention to Mar¬
guerite.
" Leave us, Mulquinier," she said.
" Ah ! I see a new experiment! " cried Claes.
"Father, lay aside your experiments," said his
daughter, when they were alone. "You have one
hundred thousand francs to pay, and we have not a
penny. Leave your laboratory ; your honor is in ques¬
tion. What will become of }7ou if you are put in
prison ? Will you soil your white hairs and the name
of Claes with the disgrace of bankruptcy? I will not
allow it. I shall have strength to oppose your mad¬
ness.; it would be dreadful to see you without bread in
your old age. Open your eyes to our position ; see
reason at last! "
214
The Alkahest.
" Mildness ! " cried Balthazar, struggling to his feet.
He fixed his luminous e}Tes upon his daughter, crossed
his arms on his breast, and repeated the word 1' Mad¬
ness ! " so majestically that Marguerite trembled.
"Ah!" he cried, "your mother would never have
uttered that word to me. She was not ignorant of the
importance of my researches ; she learned a science to
understand me ; she recognized that I toiled for the
human race ; she knew there was nothing sordid or
selfish in my aims. The feelings of a loving wife arc
higher, I see it now, than filial affection. Yes, Love
is above all other feelings. See reason ! " he went on,
striking his breast. "Do I lack reason? Am I not
myself? You say we are poor; well, my daughter, I
choose it to be so. I am your father, obey me. I will
make you rich when I please. Your fortune? it is a
pittance ! When I find the solvent of carbon I will
fill your parlor with diamonds, and they are but a scin¬
tilla of what I seek. You can well afford to wait while
I consume my life in superhuman efforts."
"Father, I have no right to ask an account of the
four millions you have already engulfed in this fatal
garret. I will not speak to you of my mother whom
you killed. If I had a husband, I should love him,
doubtless!, as she loved you; I should be ready to sac¬
rifice all to him, as she sacrificed all for you. I have
obeyed her orders in giving myself wholly to you; I
The Alkahest.
215
have proved it in not marrying and compelling yon to
render an account of }Tour guardianship. Let us dis¬
miss the past and think of the present. I am here now
to represent the necessity which you have created for
yourself. You must have money to meet your notes —
do 3'ou understand me ? There is nothing left to seize
here but the portrait of your ancestor, the Claes
martyr. I come in the name of my mother, who felt
herself too feeble to defend her children against their
father; she ordered me to resist you. I come in the
name of my brothers and my sister: I come, father, in
the name of all the Claes, and I command you to give
up your experiments, or earn the means of pursuing
them hereafter, if pursue them you must. If you arm
yourself with the power of your paternity, which you
employ only for our destruction, I have on my side
your ancestors and }*our honor, whose voice is louder
than that of chemistry. The Family is greater than
Science. I have been too long your daughter."
"And you choose to be my executioner," he said, in
a feeble voice.
Marguerite turned and fled away, that she might not
abdicate the part she had just assumed: she fancied
she heard again her mother's voice saying to her, " Do
not oppose your father too much; love him well."
216
The Alkahest.
XII.
'' Mademoiselle has made a pretty piece of work
up 3'onder," said Lemulquinier, coming down to the
kitchen for his breakfast. "We were just going to put
our hands on the great secret, we only wanted a scrap
of Jul}- sun, for monsieur, — ah, what a man! he's
almost in the shoes of the good God himself! — was
almost within that," he said to Josette, clicking his
thumbnail against a front tooth, " of getting hold of
the Absolute, when up she came, slam bang, scream¬
ing some nonsense about notes of hand."
" Well, pa}- them yourself," said Martha, " out of
your wages."
"Where's the butter for my bread?" said Lemul¬
quinier to the cook.
"Where's the money to buy it?" she answered,
sharply. " Come, old villain, if you make gold in that
devil's kitchen of yours, why don't you make butter?
7T would n't be half so difficult, and you could sell it in
the market for enough to make the pot boil. We all
eat dry bread. The young ladies are satisfied, with dry
bread and nuts, and do 3'ou expect to be better fed
than your masters? Mademoiselle won't spend more
The Alkahest.
217
than one hundred francs a month for the whole house¬
hold. There's only one dinner for all. If t'ou want
dainties you've got your furnaces upstairs where you
fricassee pearls till there's nothing else talked of in
town. Get your roast chickens up there."
Lemulquinier took his dry bread and went out.
" He will go and buy something to eat with his own
money," said Martha ; "all the better, —it is just so
much saved. Is n't he stingy, the old scarecrow! "
" Starve him ! that's the only way to manage him," said
Josette. " For a week past he has n't rubbed a single
floor; I have to do his work, for he is always upstairs.
He can very well afford to pay me for it with the pres¬
ent of a few herrings; if he brings any home, I shall
lay hands on them, I can tell him that."
"Ah!" exclaimed Martha, "I hear Mademoiselle
Marguerite crying. Her wizard of a father would
swallow the house at a gulp without asking a Christian
blessing, the old sorcerer! In my country he'd be
burned alive; but people here have no more religion
than the Moors in Africa."
Marguerite could scarcely stifle her sobs as she came
through the gallery. She reached her room, took out
her mother's letter, and read as follows: —
My Child, — If God so wills, my spirit will be within your
heart when you read these words, the last I shall ever write;
they are full of love for my dear ones, left at the mercy of a
218
The Alkahest.
demon whom I have not been able to resist. When you read
these words he will have taken your last crust, just as he
took my life and squandered my love. You know, my dar¬
ling, if I loved your father: I die loving him less, for I take
precautions against him which I never could have practised
while living. Yes, in the depths of my coffin I shall have
kept a last resource for the day when some terrible misfortune
overtakes you. If when that day comes you are reduced to
poverty, or if your honor is in question, my child, send for
Monsieur de Solis, should he be living,— if not, for his nephew,
our good Emmanuel; they hold one hundred and seventy thou¬
sand francs which are yours and will enable you to live.
If nothing shall have subdued his passion; if his children
prove no stronger barrier than my happiness has been, and
cannot stop his criminal career,—leave him, leave your
father, that you may live. I could not forsake him; I was
bound to him. You, Marguerite, you must save the family.
1 absolve you for all you may do to defend Gabriel and Jean
and Felicie. Take courage; be the guardian angel of the
Claes. Be firm, — I dare not say be pitiless; but to repair the
evil already done you must keep some means at hand. On
the day when you read this letter, regard yourself as ruined
already, for nothing will stay the fury of that passion which
has torn all things from me.
My child, remember this: the truest love is to forget your
heart. Even though you be forced to deceive your father,
your dissimulation will be blessed; your actions, however
blamable they may seem, will be heroic if taken to protect
the family. The virtuous Monsieur de Solis tells me so;
and no conscience was ever purer or more enlightened than
his. I could never have had the courage to speak these
words to you, even with my dying breath.
The Alkahest.
219
And yet, my daughter, be respectful, be kind in the dread¬
ful struggle. Resist him, but love him; deny him gently.
My hidden tears, my inward griefs wjll be known only when
I am dead. Kiss my dear children in my name when the
hour comes and you are called upon to protect them.
May God and the saints be with you!
Josephine.
To this letter was added an acknowledgment from
the Messieurs de Solis, uncle and nephew, who thereby
bound themselves to place the money intrusted to them
by Madame Claes in the hands of whoever of her child¬
ren should present the paper.
" Martha," cried Marguerite to the duenna, who
came quickly; "go to Monsieur Emmanuel de Solis,
and ask him to come to me.—Noble, discreet heart!
he never told me," she thought; " though all my griefs
and cares are his, he never told me !"
Emmanuel came before Martha could get back.
" You have kept a secret from me," she said, show¬
ing him her mother's letter.
Emmanuel bent his head.
" Marguerite, are you in great trouble? " he asked.
" Yes," she answered ; " be my support, — you, whom
my mother calls ' our good Emmanuel.' " She showed
him the letter, unable to repress her joy in knowing
that her mother approved her choice.
" My blood and my life were yours on the morrow
of the day when I first saw you in the gallery," he said;
220
The Alkahest.
'' but I scarcely dared to hope the time might come
when you would accept them. If you know me well,
you know my word is sacred. Forgive the absolute
obedience I have paid to your mother's wishes; it was
not for me to judge her intentions."
"You have saved us," she said, interrupting him,
and taking his arm to go down to the parlor.
After hearing from Emmanuel the origin of the
money intrusted to him, Marguerite confided to him
the terrible straits in which the family now found
themselves.
" I must pay those notes at once," said Emmanuel.
" If Mersktus holds them all, you can at least save the
interest. I will bring you the remaining seventy thou¬
sand francs. My poor uncle left me quite a large sum
in ducats, which are easy to carry secretly."
" Oh ! " she said, " bring them at night; we can hide
them when my father is asleep. If he knew that I had
mone}', he might try to force it from me. Oh, Em¬
manuel, think what it is to distrust a father ! " she said,
weeping and resting her forehead against the young
man's heart.
This sad, confiding movement, with which the young
girl asked protection, was the first expression of a love
hitherto wrapped in melancholy and restrained within
a sphere of grief: the heart, too full, was forced to
overflow beneath the pressure of this new misery.
The Alkahest.
221
"What can we do; what will become of us? He
sees nothing, he cares for nothing, — neither for us nor
for himself. I know not how he can live in that garret,
where the air is stifling."
" What can }*ou expect of a man who calls inces¬
santly, like Richard III., 'My kingdom for a horse'?"
said Emmanuel. "He is pitiless; and in that you
must imitate him. Pa}7 his notes ; give him, if you will,
your whole fortune ; but that of your sister and of your
brothers is neither yours nor his."
"Give him my fortune?" she said, pressing her
lover's hand and looking at him with ardor in her eyes ;
" you advise it, you! — and Pierquin told a hundred
lies to make me keep it!"
"Alas! I may be selfish in my own way," he said.
" Sometimes I long for 3Tou without fortune ; you seem
nearer to me then ! At other times I want you rich and
happy, and I feel how paltry it is to think that the poor
grandeurs of wealth can separate us."
" Dear, let us not speak of ourselves."
"Ourselves!" he repeated, with rapture. Then,
after a pause, he added: " The evil is great, but it is
not irreparable."
'' It can be repaired only by us : the Claes family has
now no head. To reach the stage of being neither father
nor man, to have no consciousness of justice or injus¬
tice (for, in defiance of the laws, he has dissipated —
222
The Alkahest.
lie, so great, so noble, so upright — the property of the
children he was bound to defend), oh, to what depths
must he have fallen! My God ! what is this thing he
seeks ?"
" Unfortunately, dear Marguerite, wrong as he is in
his relation to his family, he is right scientifically. A
score of men in Europe admire him for the very thing
which others count as madness. But nevertheless you
must, without scruple, refuse to let him take the prop¬
erty of his children. Great discoveries have always
been accidental. If your father ever finds the solution
of the problem, it will be when it costs him nothing; in
a moment, perhaps, when he despairs of it."
" My poor mother is happy," said Marguerite ; '" she
would have suffered a thousand deaths before she died:
as it was, her first encounter with Science killed her.
Alas ! the strife is endless."
"There is an end," said Emmanuel.' "When you
have nothing left, Monsieur Claes can get no further
credit; then he will stop."
"Let him stop now, then," cried Marguerite, "for
we are without a penny!"
Monsieur de Solis went to buy up Claes's notes and
returned, bringing them to Marguerite. Balthazar, con¬
trary to his custom, came down a few moments before
dinner. For the first time in two years his daughter
noticed the signs of a human grief upon his face: he
The Alkahest.
223
was again a father, reason and judgment had overcome
Science; he looked into the court-yard, then into the
garden, and when certain that he was alone with his
daughter, he came up to her with a look of melancholy
kindness.
" My child," he said, taking her hand and pressing
it with persuasive tenderness, '' forgive your old father.
Yes, Marguerite, I have done wrong. You spoke truly.
So long as I have not found I am a miserable wretch.
I will go away from here. I cannot see Van Claes
sold," he went on, pointing to the martyr's portrait.
" He died for Libert}*, I die for Science; he is vener¬
ated, I am hated."
" Hated? oh, my father, no," she cried, throwing
herself on his breast; "we all adore you. Do we not,
Felicie?" she said, turning to her sister who came in
at the moment.
" >Vhat is the matter, dear father?" said his young¬
est daughter, taking his hand.
" I have ruined you."
"Ah! " cried Felicie, " but our brothers will make
our fortune. Jean is always at the head of his class."
"See, father," said Marguerite, leading Balthazar
in a coaxing, filial way to the chimney-piece and taking
some papers from beneath the clock, "here are your
notes of hand; but do not sign any more, there is
nothing left to pay them with — "
224
The Alkahest.
"Then you have money?" whispered Balthazar in
her ear, when he recovered from his surprise.
His words and manner tortured the heroic girl; she
saw the delirium of joy and hope in her father's face as
he looked about him to discover the gold.
" Father," she saicl, " I have my own fortune."
" Give it to me," he said with a rapacious gesture;
"I will return you a hundred-fold."
" Yes, I will give it to 3'ou," answered Marguerite,
looking gravely at Balthazar, who did not know the
meaning she put into her words.
" Ah, my dear daughter! " he cried, " you save my
life. I have thought of a last experiment, after which
nothing more is possible. If, this time, I do not find
the Absolute, I must renounce the search. Come to
my arms, my darling child; I will make you the
happiest woman upon earth. You give me glory; you
bring me back to happiness; you bestow the power to
heap treasures upon my children — yes! I will load
you with jewels, with wealth."
He kissed his daughter's forehead, took her hands
and pressed them, and testified his joy by fondling ca¬
resses which to Marguerite seemed almost obsequious.
During the dinner he thought only of her; he looked
at her eagerly with the assiduous devotion displayed
by a lover to his mistress: if she made a movement,
he tried to divine her wish, and rose to fulfil it; he
The Alkahest.
225
made her ashamed by the youthful eagerness of his
attentions, which were painfully out of keeping with his
premature old age. To all these cajoleries, Marguerite
herself presented the contrast of actual distress, shown
sometimes by a word of doubt, sometimes by a glance
along the empty shelves of the sideboards in the dining-
room.
"Well, well," he said, following her e}Te, "in six
months we shall fill them again with gold, and marvel¬
lous things. You shall be like a queen. Bah! nature
herself will belong to us, we shall rise above all created
beings — through you, you, my Marguerite ! Marga¬
rita," he said, smiling, " thy name is a prophecy.
' Margarita' means a pearl. Sterne says so somewhere.
Did you ever read Sterne? Would you like to have a
Sterne ? it would amuse you."
"A pearl, they say, is the result of a disease," she
answered; "we have suffered enough already."
"Do not be sad; you will make the happiness of
those you love ; you shall be rich and all-powerful."
"Mademoiselle has got such a good heart," said
Lemulquinier, whose seamed face stretched itself pain¬
fully into a smile.
For the rest of the evening Balthazar displayed to his
daughters all the natural graces of his character and
the charms of his conversation. Seductive as the ser¬
pent, his lips, his eyes, poured out a magnetic fluid ; he
15
226
The Alkahest.
put forth that power of genius, that gentleness of spirit
which once fascinated Josephine and now drew, as it
were, his daughters into his heart. When Emmanuel do
Solis came he found, for the first time in many months,
the father and the children reunited. The 3'oung pro¬
fessor, in spite of his reserve, came under the influence
of the scene ; for Claes's manners and conversation had
recovered their former irresistible seduction!
Men of science, plunged though they be in abysses of
thought and ceaselessly employed in studying the moral
world, take notice, nevertheless, of the smallest details
of the sphere in which they live. More out of date with
their surroundings than realty absent-minded, they are
never in harmony with the life about them; they know
and forget all; they prejudge the future in their own
minds, prophesy to their own souls, know of an.event
before it happens, and yet the}* say nothing of all this.
If, in the hush of meditation, they sometimes use their
power to observe and recognize that which goes on
around them, they are satisfied with having divined its
meaning; their occupations hurry them on, and they
frequently make false application of the knowledge the}7
have acquired about the things of life. Sometimes
they wake from their social apathy, or they drop from
the world of thought to the world of life ; at such times
they come with well-stored memories, and are by no
means strangers to what is happening.
The Alkahest.
227
Balthazar, who joined the perspicacity of the heart to
that of the brain, knew his daughter's whole past; he
knew, or he had guessed, the history of the hidden love
that united her with Emmanuel: he now showed this
delicately, and sanctioned their affection by taking part
in it. It was the sweetest flattery a father could be¬
stow, and the lovers were unable to resist it. The even¬
ing passed delightfully, — contrasting with the griefs
which threatened the lives of these poor children.
When Balthazar retired, after, as we may say, filling his
family with light and bathing them with tenderness,
Emmanuel de Solis, who had shown some embarrass¬
ment of manner, took from his pockets three thousand
ducats in gold, the possession of which he had feared
to betray. He placed them on the work-table, where
Marguerite covered them with some linen she was
mending; and then he went to his own house to fetch
the rest of the money. When he returned, Felicie had
gone to bed. Eleven o'clock struck ; Martha, who sat
up to undress her mistress, was still with Felicie.
"Where can we hide it?" said Marguerite, unable
to resist the pleasure of playing with the gold ducats, —
a childish amusement which proved disastrous.
"I will lift this marble pedestal, which is hollow,"
said Emmanuel; "you can slip in the packages, and
the devil himself will not think of looking for them
there."
228
The Alkahest.
Just as Marguerite was making her last trip but one
from the work-table to the pedestal, carrying the gold,
she suddenly gave a piercing cry, and let fall the pack¬
ages, the covers of which broke as they fell, and the
coins were scattered about the room. Her father stood
at the parlor door ; the avidity of his eyes terrified her.
"What are you doing?" he said, looking first at
his daughter, whose terror nailed her to the floor, and
then at the 3'oung man, who had hastily sprung up, —
though his attitude beside the pedestal was sufficiently
significant. The rattle of the gold upon the ground
was horrible, the scattering of it prophetic.
"I could not be mistaken," said Balthazar, sitting
down ; "I heard the sound of gold."
He was not less agitated than the 3roung people, whose
hearts were beating so in unison that their throbs might
be heard, like the ticking of a clock, amid the profound
silence which suddenly settled on the parlor.
" Thank 3tou, Monsieur de Solis," said Marguerite,
giving Emmanuel a glance which meant, '' Come to my
rescue and help me to save this money."
" What gold is this?" resumed Balthazar, casting at
Marguerite and Emmanuel a glance of terrible clear¬
sightedness.
'' This gold belongs to Monsieur de Solis, who is
kind enough to lend it to me that I ma3T pa3T our debts
honorably," she answered.
The Alkahest.
229
Emmanuel colored and turned as though about to
leave the room : Balthazar caught him by the arm.
"Monsieur," he said, "you must not escape my
thanks."
" Monsieur, you owe me none. This money belongs
to Mademoiselle Marguerite, who borrows it from me
on the security of her own property," Emmanuel re¬
plied, looking at his mistress, who thanked him with
an almost imperceptible movement of her eyelids.
"I shall not allow that," said Claes, taking a pen
and a sheet of paper from the table where Felicie did
her writing, and turning to the astonished young peo¬
ple. "How much is it?" His eager passion made
him more astute than the wiliest of rascally bailiffs:
the sum was to be his. Marguerite and Monsieur de
Solis hesitated.
'' Let us count it," he said.
" There are six thousand ducats," said Emmanuel.
" Seventy thousand francs," remarked Claes.
The glance which Marguerite threw at her lover gave
him courage.
"Monsieur," he said, "your note bears no value;
pardon this purely technical term. I have to-day lent
Mademoiselle Claes one hundred thousand francs to
redeem your notes of hand which you had no means of
paying: you are therefore unable to give me any secur¬
ity. These one hundred and seventy thousand francs
230
The Alkahest.
belong to Mademoiselle Claes, "who can dispose of
them as she sees fit; but I have lent them on a
pledge that she will sign a deed securing them to me
on her share of the now denuded land of the forest
of Waignies."
Marguerite turned away her head that her lover might
not see the tears that gathered in her eyes. She knew
Emmanuel's purity of soul. Brought up by his uncle
to the practice of the sternest religious virtues, the
young man had an especial horror of falsehood: after
giving his heart and life to Marguerite Claes he now,
made her the sacrifice of his conscience.
" Adieu, monsieur," said Balthazar, " I thought you
had more confidence in a man who looked upon you
with the eyes of a father."
After exchanging a despairing look with Marguerite,
Emmanuel was shown out by Martha, who closed and
fastened the street-door.
The moment the father and daughter were alone Claes
said, —
" You love me, do you not? "
" Come to the point, father. You want this money:
you cannot have it."
She began to pick up the coins; her father silently
helped her to gather them together and count the sum
she had dropped ; Marguerite allowed him to do so with¬
out manifesting the least distrust. When two thousand
The Alkahest.
231
ducats were piled on tlie table, Balthazar said, with a
desperate air, —
" Marguerite, I friust have that money."
" If you take it, it will be robbery," she replied
coldly. " Hear me, father: better kill us atone blow
than make us suffer a hundred deaths a day. Let it
now be seen which of us must yield."
" Do you mean to kill your father? "
"We avenge our mother," she said, pointing to the
spot where Madame Claes died.
'' My daughter, if you knew the truth of this matter,
you would not use those words to me. Listen, and I
will endeavor to explain the great problem — but no,
you cannot comprehend me," he cried in accents of
despair. "Come, give me the money; believe for
once in your father. Yes* I know I caused your
mother pain: I have dissipated — to use the word of
fools — my own fortune and injured yours; I know my
children are sacrificed for a thing you call madness;
but my angel, my darling, my love, my Marguerite,
hear me! If I do not now succeed, I will give myself
up to you; I will obey you as you are bound to obey
me; I will do 3rour will; you shall take charge of all
my property; I will no longer be the guardian of my
children ; I pledge myself to lay down my authority. I
swear by your mother's memory! " he cried, shedding
tears.
282
The Alkahest.
Marguerite turned away her head, unable to bear the
sight. Claes, thinking she meant to yield, flung him¬
self on his knees beside her.
" Marguerite, Marguerite ! give it to me — give it!"
he cried. " What are sixty thousand francs against
eternal remorse? See, I shall die, this will kill me.
Listen, my word is saored. If I fail now I will abandon
my labors ; I will leave Flanders, — France even, if you
demand it ; I will go away and toil like a day-laborer
to recover, sou by sou, the fortunes I have lost, and
restore to my children all that Science has taken from
them."
Marguerite tried to raise her father, but he per¬
sisted in remaining on his knees, and continued, still
weeping: —
'' Be tender and obedient for this last time ! If I do
not succeed, I will myself declare your hardness just.
You shall call me a fool; you shall say I am a bad
father; you may even tell me that I am ignorant and
incapable. And when I hear you say those words I
will kiss your hands. You may beat me, if you will,
and when you strike I will bless you as the best of
daughters, remembering that you have given me your
blood."
"If it were my blood, my life's blood, I would give
it to }Tou," she cried; " but can I let Science cut the
throats of my brothers and my sister? No. Cease,
The Alkahest.
233
cease! " she said, wiping her tears and pushing aside
her father's caressing hands.
" Sixty thousand francs and two months," -he said,
rising in anger; '' that is all I want: but my daughter
stands between me and fame and wealth. I curse
you! " he went on; "you are no daughter of mine,
you are not a woman, you have no heart, you will
never be a mother or a wife!— Give it to me, let
me take it, my little one, my precious child, I will love
you forever," — and he stretched his hand with a
movement of hideous energy towards the gold.
"Iam helpless against physical force ; but God and
the great Claes see us now," she said, pointing to the
picture.
" Try to live, if you can, with your father's blood
upon you," cried Balthazar, looking at her with abhor¬
rence. He rose, glanced round the room and slowly
left it. When he reached the door he turned as a beg¬
gar might have done and implored his daughter with a
gesture, to which she replied by a negative motion of
her head.
" Farewell, my daughter," he said, gently, " may you
live happy! "
When he had disappeared, Marguerite remained in a
trance which separated her from earth; she was no
longer in the parlor; she lost consciousness of phys¬
ical existence; she had wings, and soared amid the
234
The Alkahest.
immensities of the moral world, where Thought con¬
tracts the limits both of Time and Space, where a
divine hand lifts the veil of the Future. It seemed
to her that days elapsed between each footfall of her
father as he went up the stairs; then a shudder of
dread went over her as she heard him enter his cham¬
ber. Guided by a presentiment which flashed into her
soul with the piercing keenness of lightning, she ran up
the stairway, without light, without noise, with the ve¬
locity of an arrow, and saw her father with a pistol at
his head.
" Take all! " she cried, springing towards him.
She fell into a chair. Balthazar, seeing her pallor,
began to weep as old men weep; he became like a
child, he kissed her brow, he spoke in disconnected
words, he almost danced with joy, and tried to play
with her as a lover with a mistress who has made him
happy.
"Enough, father, enough," she said; "remember
your promise. If you do not succeed now, you pledge
yourself to obey me ? "
" Yes."
"Oh, mother!" she cried turning towards Madame
Claes's chamber, '•'■you would have given him all —
would j7ou not ?"
" Sleep in peace," said Balthazar, " you are a good
daughter."
The Alkahest. 235
"Sleep!" she said, "the nights of 1113'' 3"outh are
gone; you have made me old, father, just as 3'ou
slowly withered my mother's heart."
" Poor child, would I could re-assure you b}r explain¬
ing the effects of the glorious experiment I have now
imagined! }Tou would then comprehend the truth."
" I comprehend our ruin," she said, leaving him.
The next morning, being a holiday, Emmanuel de
Solis brought Jean to spend the daj\
" Well? " he said, approaching Marguerite anxiously.
" I 3'ielded," she replied.
" M3t dear life," he said, with a gesture of melan-
choty joy, " if 3Tou had withstood him I should greatly
have admired 3Tou ; but weak and feeble, I adore you! "
" Poor, poor Emmanuel; what is left for us? "
"Leave the future to me," cried the 3roung'man, with
a radiant look; "we love each other, and all is well."
What amount of power is exerted by the
heart in effecting the circulation of the
blood ! The expression " one-horse power,"
which is used by engineers, means such an
amount of power as will suffice to lift
32,000 lbs. to a height of one foot in one
minute. It has been lately calculated that
the heart's power in a healthy man is enough
to raise a weight of 273,280 lbs. to a height
of one foot in the twenty-four hours. It is,
therefore, sufficient to raise a weight of
ll,386f lbs. to a height of one foot in an
hour, or about 189 lbs. to a similar height
in a minute; and, as a fraction of a horse
power, this is roughly T|-g. Thus, it would
take only about 169 hearts to do the
estimated work, in raising weight, of one
carthorse—if, of course, the power could be
.applied to that purpose.
236
The Alkahest.
XIII.
Several months went by in perfect tranquillity.
Monsieur cle Solis made Marguerite see that her petty
economies would never produce a fortune, and he ad¬
vised her to live more at ease, by taking all that remained
of the sum which Madame Claes had intrusted to him
for the comfort and well-being of the household.
During these months Marguerite fell a prey to the
anxieties which beset her mother under like circum¬
stances. However incredulous she might be, she had
come to hope in her father's genius. By an inexplicable
phenomenon, many people have hope where they have
no. faith. Hope is the flower of Desire, faith is the fruit
of Certainty. Marguerite said to herself, " If my father
succeeds, we shall be happy." Claes and Lemulquinier
alone said: "We shall succeed." Unhappily, from
day to day the Searcher's face grew sadder. Some¬
times, when he came to dinner he dared not look at his
daughter; at other times he glanced at her in triumph.
Marguerite employed her evenings in making young de
Solis explain to her many legal points and difficulties.
At last her masculine education was completed; she
The Alkahest.
237
was evidently preparing herself to execute the plan she
had resolved upon if her father were again vanquished
in his duel with the Unknown (X).
About the beginning of Jul}', Balthazar spent a whole
day sitting on a bench in the garden, plunged in gloomy
meditation. He gazed at the mound now bare of tulips,
at the windows of his wife's chamber; he shuddered, no
doubt, as he thought of all that his search had cost him :
his movements betrayed that his thoughts were busy
outside of Science. Marguerite brought her sewing
and sat beside him for a while before dinner.
" You have not succeeded, father?"
" No, my child."
" Ah !" said Marguerite, in a gentle voice. " I will
not say one word of reproach; we are both equally
guilty. I only claim the fulfilment of your promise ; it
is surely sacred to you — you are a Claes. Your child¬
ren will surround you with love and filial respect; but
you now belong to me; you owe me obedience. Do
not be uneasy ; my reign will be gentle, and I will en¬
deavor to bring it quickly to an end. Father, I am
going to leave you for a month ; I shall be busy with
your affairs ; for," she said, kissing him on his brow,
" you are now my child. I take Martha with me ; to¬
morrow Felicie will manage the household. The poor
child is only seventeen, and she will not know how to
resist you; therefore be generous, do not ask her for
238
The Alkahest.
money; she has only enough for the barest necessaries
of the household. Take courage : renounce your labors
and your thoughts for three or four years. The great
problem may ripen towards discovery; by that time I
shall have gathered the money that is necessary to solve
it, — and you will solve it. Tell me, father, your queen
is clement, is she not?"
" Then all is not lost?" said the old man.
" No, not if you keep your word."
"I will obey 3*011, m}r daughter," answered Claes,
with deep emotion.
The next da}r, Monsieur Conyncks of Cambrai came
to fetch his great-niece. He was in a travelling-car¬
riage, and would only remain long enough for Mar¬
guerite and Martha to make their last arrangements.
Monsieur Claes received his cousin with courtes}r, but
he was evidently sad and humiliated. Old Conyncks
guessed his thoughts, and said with blunt frankness
while they were breakfasting: —
"I have some of }rour pictures, cousin; I have a
taste for pictures, — a ruinous passion, but we all have
our manias."
" Dear uncle ! " exclaimed Marguerite.
" The world declares that 3tou are ruined, cousin ; but
the treasure of a Claes is there," said Conyncks, tapping
his forehead, "and here," striking his heart; "don't
you think so? I count upon you : and for that reason,
The Alkahest.
239
having a few spare ducats in my wallet, I put them to
use in j-our service."
"Ah!" cried Balthazar, "I will repay you with
treasures — "
" The only treasures we possess in Flanders are pa¬
tience and labor," replied Conyncks, sternly. " Our
ancestor has those words engraved upon his brow," he
said, pointing to the portrait of Van Claes.
Marguerite kissed her father and bade him good-by,
gave her last directions to Josette and to Felicie, and
started with Monsieur Conyncks for Paris. The great-
uncle was a widower with one child, a daughter twelve
years old, and he was possessed of an immense fortune.
It was not impossible that he would take a wife ; con¬
sequently, the good people of Douai believed that Ma¬
demoiselle Claes would marry her great-uncle. The
rumor of this marriage reached Pierquin, and brought
him back in hot haste to the House of Claes.
Great changes had taken place in the ideas of that
clever speculator. For the last two years society in
Douai had been divided into hostile camps. The no¬
bility formed one circle, the bourgeoisie another; the
latter naturally inimical to the former. This sudden
separation took place, as a matter of fact, all over
France, and divided the country into two warring na¬
tions, whose jealous squabbles, always augmenting, were
among the chief reasons why the revolution of July,
240
The Alkahest.
1830, was accepted in the provinces. Between these
social camps, the one ultra-monarchical, the other ultra-
liberal, were a number of functionaries of various kinds,
admitted, according to their importance, to one or the
other of these circles, and who, at the moment of the fall
of the legitimate power, were neutral. At the beginning
of the struggle between the nobility and the bourgeoisie,
the royalist " cafes" displayed an unheard-of splendor,
and eclipsed the liberal " cafes " so brilliantly that these
gastronomic fetes were said to have cost the lives of
some of their frequenters who, like ill-cast cannon, were
unable to withstand such practice. The two societies
naturally became exclusive.
Pierquin, though rich for a provincial lawyer, was
excluded from aristocratic circles and driven back upon,
the bourgeoisie. His self-love must have suffered from
the successive rebuffs which he received when he felt
himself insensibly set aside by people with whom he
had rubbed shoulders up to the time of this social
change. He had now reached his fortieth year, the
last epoch at which a man who intends to marry can
think of a young wife. The matches to which he was
able to aspire were all among the bourgeoisie, but am¬
bition prompted him to enter the upper circle by means
of some creditable alliance.
The isolation in which the Claes family were now
living had hitherto kept them aloof from these social
The Alkahest.
241
changes. Though Claes belonged to the old aristoc¬
racy of the province, his preoccupation of mind pfe-
vented him from sharing the class antipathies thus
created. However poor a daughter of the Claes might
be, she would bring to a husband the dower of social
vanity so eagerly desired by all parvenus. Pierquin
therefore returned to his allegiance, with the secret in¬
tention of making the neeessary sacrifices to conclude a
marriage which should realize all his ambitions. He
kept company with Balthazar and Felicie during Mar¬
guerite's absence; but in so doing he discovered, rather
late in the day, a formidable competitor in Emmanuel de
Solis. The property of the deceased abbe was thought
to be considerable, and to the eyes of a man who cal¬
culated all the affairs of life in figures, the young heir
seemed more powerful through his money than through
the seductions of the heart—as to which Pierquin never
made himself uneasy. In his mind the abbe's fortune
restored the de Solis name to all its pristine value.
Gold and nobility of birth were two orbs which reflected
lustre on one another and doubled the illumination.
The sincere affection which the young professor testi¬
fied for Felicie, whom he treated as a sister, excited
Pierquin's spirit of emulation. He tried to eclipse Em¬
manuel I)}* mingling a fashionable jargon and sundry
expressions of superficial gallantry with anxious elegies
and business airs which sat more naturally on his coun-
16
242
The Alkahest.
tenance. When ho declared himself disenchanted with
the world he looked at Felicie, as if to let her know
that she alone could reconcile him with life- Felicie,
who received for the first time in her life the compliments
of a man, listened to this language, always sweet how¬
ever deceptive ; she took emptiness for. depth, and need¬
ing an object on which to fix the vague emotions of her
heart, she allowed the lawyer to occupy her mind. En¬
vious perhaps, though quite unconsciously, of the loving
attentions with which Emmanuel surrounded her sister,
she doubtless wished to be, like Marguerite, the object
of the thoughts and cares of a man.
Pierquin readily perceived the preference which Fe¬
licie accorded him over Emmanuel, and to him it was a
reason why he should persist in his attentions ; so that
in the end he went further than he, at first intended.
Emmanuel watched the beginning of this passion, false
perhaps in the lawyer, artless in Felicie, whose future
was at stake. Soon, little colloquies followed, a few
words said in a low voice behind Emmanuel's back,
trifling deceptions which give to a look or a word a
meaning whose insidious sweetness may be the cause of
innocent mistakes. Relying on his intimacy with Fe¬
licie, Pierquin tried to discover the secret of Marguerite's
journey, and to know if it were really a question of her
marriage, and whether he must renounce all hope ; but,
notwithstanding his clumsy cleverness in questioning
The Alkahest.
243
them, neither Balthazar nor Felicie could give him
any light, for the good reason that they were in the
dark themselves: Marguerite in taking the reins of
power seemed to have followed its maxims and kept
silence as to her projects.
The gloomy sadness of Balthazar and his great de¬
pression made it difficult to get through the evenings.
Though Emmanuel succeeded in making him play back¬
gammon, the chemist's mind was never present; during
most of the time this man, so great in intellect, seemed
simply stupid. Shorn of his expectations, ashamed of
having squandered three fortunes, a gambler without
money, he bent beneath the weight of ruin, beneath the
burden of hopes that were betrayed rather than annihi¬
lated. This man of genius, gagged by dire necessity and
upbraiding himself, was a tragic spectacle, fit to touch
the hearts of the most unfeeling of men. Even Pierquin
could not enter without respect the presence of that
caged lion, whose eyes, full of baffled power, now calmed
by sadness and faded from excess of light, seemed to
proffer a prayer for charity which the mouth dared not
utter. Sometimes a lightning flash crossed that with¬
ered face, whose fires revived at the conception of a
new experiment; then, as he looked about the parlor,
Balthazar's eyes would fasten on the spot where his wife
had died, a film of tears rolled like hot grains of sand
across the arid pupils of his eyes, which thought had
244
The Alkahest.
made immense, and bis bead fell forward on bis breast.
Like a Titan he had lifted the world, and the world fell
on bis breast and crushed liim.
This gigantic grief, so manfully controlled, affected
Pierquin and Emmanuel powerfull}', and each felt moved
at times to offer this man the necessary money to renew
bis search,—so contagious are the convictions of genius !
Both understood how it was that Madame Claes and
Marguerite had flung their all into the gulf; but reason
promptly checked this impulse of their hearts, and their
emotion was spent in efforts at consolation which still
further embittered the anguish of the doomed Titan.
Claes never spoke of his eldest daughter, and showed
no interest in her departure nor any anxiety as to her
silence in not writing either to him or to Felicie. When
de Solis or Pierquin asked for news of her he seemed
annoyed. Did he suspect that Marguerite was working
against him? Was he humiliated at having resigned
the majestic rights of paternity to his own child? Had
he come to love her less because she was now the father,
he the child? Perhaps there were many of these rea¬
sons, many of these inexpressible feelings which float
like vapors through the soul, in the mute disgrace which
he laid upon Marguerite. However great may be the
great men of the earth, be they known or unknown,
fortunate or unfortunate in their endeavors, all have
littlenesses which belong to human nature. By a
The Alkahest.
245
double misfortune they suffer through their greatness
not less than through their defects; and perhaps Bal¬
thazar needed to grow accustomed to the pangs of
wounded vanity. The life he was leading, the evenings
when these four persons met together in Marguerite's
absence, were full of sadness and vague, uneasy appre¬
hensions. The days were barren like a parched-up soil;
where, nevertheless a few flowers grew, a few rare con¬
solations, though without Marguerite, the soul, the hope,
the strength of the family, the atmosphere seemed misty.
Two months went by in this way, during which Bal¬
thazar awaited the return of his daughter. Marguerite
was brought back to Douai by her uncle who remained
at the house instead of returning to Cambrai, no doubt
to lend the weight of his authority to some coup cV etat
planned by his niece. Marguerite's return was made a
family fete. Pierquin and Monsieur de Solis were in¬
vited to dinner by Felicie and Balthazar. When the
travelling-carriage stopped before the house, the four
went to meet it with demonstrations of j'03*. Margue¬
rite seemed happy to see her home- once more, and her
eyes filled with tears as she crossed the court-3-ard to
reach the parlor. When embracing her father she col¬
ored like a guilty wife who is unable to dissimulate ;
but her face recovered its serenity' as she looked at
Emmanuel, from whom she seemed to gather strength
to complete a work she had secretly undertaken.
246
The Alkahest.
Notwithstanding the gayet}* which animated all pres¬
ent during the dinner, father and daughter watched each
other with distrust and curiosity. Balthazar asked his
daughter no questions as to her stay in Paris, doubt¬
less to preserve his parental dignity. Emmanuel de
Solis imitated his reserve; hut Pierquin, accustomed
to be told all family secrets, said to Marguerite, con¬
cealing his curiosity under a show of liveliness : —
" Well, my dear cousin, you have seen Paris and the
theatres — "
" I have seen little of Paris," she said ; "I did not
go there for amusement. The days went by sadly, I
was so impatient to see Douai once more."
"Yes, if I had not been angry about it she would
not have gone to the Opera; and even there she was
uneasy," said Monsieur Conyncks.
It was a painful evening; every one was embarrassed
and smiled vaguely with the artificial gayety which hides
such real anxieties. Marguerite and Balthazar were a
pre}'- to cruel, latent fears which reacted on the rest.
As the hours passed, the bearing of the father and
daughter grew more and more constrained. Sometimes
Marguerite tried to smile, but her motions, her looks^ the
tones of her voice betrayed a keen anxiety. Messieurs
Conyncks and de Solis seemed to know the meaning
of the secret feelings which agitated the noble girl, and
they appeared to encourage her by expressive glances.
The AlTcahest.
247
Balthazar, hurt at being kept from a knowledge of the
steps that had been taken on his behalf, withdrew little
by little from his children and friends, and pointedly
kept silence. Marguerite would no doubt soon disclose
what she had decided upon for his future.
To a great man; to a father, the situation was intoler¬
able. At his age a man no longer dissimulates in
his own family ; he became more and more thoughtful,
serious, and grieved as the hour approached when he
would be forced to meet his civil death. This evening
covered one of those crises in the inner life of man
which can only be expressed by imagery. The thunder¬
clouds were gathering in the sky, people were laughing
in the fields ; all felt the heat and knew the storm was
coming, but they held up their heads and continued
on their way. Monsieur Conyncks was the first to
leave the room, conducted by Balthazar to his cham¬
ber. During the latter's- absence Pierquin and Mon¬
sieur de Solis went away. Marguerite bade the notary
good-night with much affection; she said nothing to
Emmanuel, but she pressed his hand and gave him a
tearful glance. She sent Felicie away, and when Claes
returned to the parlor he found, his daughter alone.
" My kind father," she said in a trembling voice,
" nothing could have made me leave home but the
serious position in which we found ourselves ; but now,
after much anxiety, after surmounting the greatest
248
The Alkahest.
difficulties, I return with some chances of deliverance
for all of us. Thanks to your name, and to my uncle's
influence, and to the support of Monsieur de Solis, we
have obtained for you an appointment under govern¬
ment as receiver of customs in Bretagne; the place is
worth, they say, eighteen to twenty thousand francs a
year. Our uncle has given bonds as your security.
Here is the nomination," she added, drawing a paper
from her bag. "Your life in Douai, in this house,
during the coming years of privation and sacrifice would
be intolerable to you. Our father must be placed in a
situation at least equal to that in which he has always
lived. I ask nothing from the salary you will receive
from this appointment; employ it as you see fit. I will
only beg you to remember that we have not a penny of
income, and that we must live on what Gabriel can give
us out of his. The town shall know nothing of our
inner life. If you were still to live in this house you
would be an obstacle to the means my sister and I are
about to employ to restore comfort and ease to the
home. Have I abused the authority you gave me by
putting you in a position to remake your own fortune ?
In a few years, if you so will, you can easily become
the receiver-general."
" In other words, Marguerite," said Balthazar, gently,
" you turn me out of my own house."
"I do not deserve that bitter reproach," replied the
The Alkahest.
249
daughter, quelling the tumultuous beatings of her heart.
" You will come back to us when you are able to live
in your native town in a manner becoming to your
dignity. Besides, father, I have your promise. You
are bound to obey me. My uncle has stayed here that
he might himself accompany you to Bretagne, and not
leave you to make the journey alone."
" I shall not go," said Balthazar, rising; " I need no
help from any one to restore my property and pay what
I owe to my children."
" It would be better, certainly," replied Marguerite,
calmly. " But now I ask you to reflect on our respec¬
tive situations, which I will explain in a few words. If
you stay in this house your children will leave it, so that
you may remain its master."
"Marguerite!" cried Balthazar.
"In that case," she said, continuing her words with¬
out taking notice of her father's anger, 4' it will be
necessary to notify the minister of your refusal, if you
decide not to accept this honorable and lucrative post,
which, in spite of our many efforts, we should never
have obtained but for certain thousand-franc notes my
uncle slipped into the glove of a lad}%"
" My children leave me ! " he exclaimed.
" You must leave us or we' must leave 3'ou," she
said. " If I were your only child, I should do as my
mother did, without murmuring against my fate; but
250
The Alkahest.
my brother* said my sister shall not perish beside you
with hunger and despair. I promised it to her who
died there," she said, pointing to the place where her
mother's bed had stood. "We have hidden our troubles
from you; we have suffered in silence; our strength
is gone. My father, we are not on the edge of an
abyss, we are at the bottom of it. Courage is not suf¬
ficient to drag us out of it; our efforts must not be
incessantly brought to nought by the caprices of a
passion."
"My dear children," cried Balthazar, seizing Mar¬
guerite's hand, " I will help you, I will work, I — "
"Here is the means," she answered, showing him
the official letter.
"But, my darling, the means you offer me are too
slow; you make me lose the fruits of ten years' work,
and the enormous sums of money which my laboratorj7
represents. There," he said, pointing towards the gar¬
ret, " are our real resources."
Marguerite walked towards the door, saying, —
" Father, you must choose."
<' Ah! my daughter, you are very hard," he replied,
sitting down in an armchair and allowing her to leave
him.
The next morning, on coming downstairs, Marguerite
learned from Lemulquinier that Monsieur Claes had
gone out. This simple announcement turned her pale ;
The Alkahest.
251
her face was so painfully significant that the old valet
remarked hastily: —
"Don't be troubled, mademoiselle; monsieur said
he would be back at eleven o'clock to breakfast. He
did n't go to bed all night. At two in the morning he
was still standing in the parlor, looking through the
window at the laboratory. I was waiting up in the
kitchen ; I saw him ; he wept; he is in trouble. Here's
the famous month of July when the sun is able to en¬
rich us all, and if you only would — "
" Enough," said Marguerite, divining the thoughts
that must have assailed her father's mind.
A phenomenon which often takes possession of per¬
sons leading sedentary lives had seized upon Balthazar;
his life depended, so to speak, on the places with which
it was identified; his thought was so wedded to his
laboratory and to the house he lived in that both were
indispensable to him,—just as the Bourse becomes a
necessity to a stock-gambler, to whom the public holi¬
days are so much lost time. Here were his hopes;
here the heavens contained the only atmosphere in
which his lungs could breathe the breath of life. This
alliance of places and things with men, which is so
powerful in feeble natures, becomes almost tyrannical
in men of science and students. To leave his house
was, for Balthazar, to renounce Science, to abandon the
Problem, —it was death.
252
The Alkahest.
Marguerite was a prey to anxiety until the breakfast
hour. The former scene in which Balthazar had meant
to kill himself came hack to her memory, and she
feared some tragic end to the desperate situation in
which her father was placed. She came and went rest¬
lessly about the parlor, and quivered every time the
bell or the street-door sounded.
At last Balthazar returned. As he crossed the court¬
yard Marguerite studied his face anxiously and could see
nothing but an expression of stornw grief. When he
entered the parlor she went towards him to bid him
good-morning; he caught her affectionately round the
waist, pressed her to his heart, kissed her brow, and
whispered, —
" I have been to get my passport."
The tones of his voice, his resigned look, his feeble
movements, crushed the poor girl's heart; she turned
away her head to conceal her tears, and then, unable
to repress them, she went into the garden to weep at
her ease. During breakfast, Balthazar showed the
cheerfulness of a man who had come to a decision.
"So we are to start for Bretagne, uncle," he said
to Monsieur Conyncks. "I have always wished to go
there."
"It is a place where one can live cheaply," replied
the old man.
'' Is our father going away ? " cried Felicie.
The Alkahest.
253
Monsieur de Solis entered, bringing Jean.
" You must leave him with me to-da}7," said Baltha¬
zar, putting his son beside him. " I am going away
to-morrow, and I want to bid him good-b}*."
Emmanuel glanced at Marguerite, who held down her
head. It was a gloomy day for the family; every one
was sad, and tried to repress both thoughts and tears.
This was not an absence, it was an exile. All in¬
stinctively felt the humiliation of the father in thus pub¬
licly declaring his ruin by accepting an office and
leaving his family, at Balthazar's age. At this crisis he
was great, while Marguerite was firm; he seemed to
accept nobly the punishment of faults which the tyran¬
nous power of genius had forced him to commit. When
the evening was over, and father and daughter were
again alone, Balthazar, who throughout the day had
shown himself tender and affectionate as in the first
years of his fatherhood, held out his hand and said to
Marguerite with a tenderness that was mingled with
despair, —
" Are you satisfied with your father? "
" You are worthy of him" said Marguerite, pointing
to the portrait of Van Claes.
The next morning Balthazar, followed by Lemul-
quinier, went up to the laboratory, as if to bid farewell
to the hopes he had so fondly cherished, and which
in that scene of his toil were living things to him.
254
The Alkahest.
Master and man looked at each other sadly as they
entered the garret they were about to leave, perhaps
forever. Balthazar gazed at the various instruments
over which his thoughts so long had brooded; each was
connected with some experiment or some research.
He sadly ordered Lemulquinier to evaporate the gases
and the dangerous acids, and to' separate all substances
which might produce explosions. While taking these
precautions, he gave way to bitter regrets, like those
uttered by a condemned man before going to the
scaffold.
"Here," he said, stopping before a china capsule
in which two wires of a voltaic pile were dipped, " is
an experiment whose results ought to be watched. If
it succeeds — dreadful thought! — my children will
have driven from their home a father who could fling
diamonds at their feet. In a combination of carbon
and sulphur," he went on, speaking to himself, " car¬
bon plays the part of an electro-positive substance;
the crystallization ought to begin at the negative pole;
and in case of decomposition," the carbon would crop
into crystals — "
" Ah! is that how it would be? " said Lemulquinier,
contemplating his master with admiration.
"Now here," continued Balthazar, after a pause,
"the combination is subject to the influence of the
galvanic battery which may act —"
The Alkahest.
255
" If monsieur wishes, I can increase its force."
"No, no; leave it as it is. Perfect stillness and
time are the conditions of crystallization —"
" Confound it, it takes time enough, that crystalli¬
zation," cried the old valet impatiently.
" If the temperature goes down, the sulphide of car¬
bon will crystallize," said Balthazar, continuing to give
forth shreds of indistinct thoughts which were parts of
a complete conception in his own mind; '' but if the
battery works under certain conditions of which I am
ignorant — it must be watched carefully — it is quite
possible that — Ah! what am I thinking of? It is
no longer a question of chemistry, my friend; we are
to keep accounts in Bretagne."
Claes rushed precipitately from the laboratory, and
went downstairs to take a last breakfast with his
family, at which Pierquin and Monsieur de Solis were
present. Balthazar, hastening to end the agon}' Science
had imposed upon liim, bade his children farewell and
got into the carriage with his uncle, all the family ac¬
companying him to the threshold. There, as Margue¬
rite strained her father to her breast with a despairing
pressure, he whispered in her ear, "You are a good
girl; I bear you no ill-will;" then she darted through
the court-yard into the parlor, and flung herself on her
knees upon the spot where her mother had died, and
prayed to God to give her strength to accomplish the
256
The Alkahest.
hard task that lay before her. She was already
strengthened by an inward voice, sounding in her
heart the encouragement of angels and the gratitude
of her mother, when her sister, her brother', Emmanuel,
and Pierquin came in, after watching the carriage until
it disappeared.
FctdiQg a Modcro Scicotist.
Placid I am, content, serene,
I take my slab of gypsum bread,
And chunks of oleomargarine
Upon its tasteless sides I spread.
The egg I eat was never laid
By any cackling, feathered hen ;
But from the Lord knows what 'tis made
In London by unfeathered men.
I wash my simple breakfast down
With fragrant chicory so cheap ;
Or with the best black tea in town-
Dried willow leaves—I calmly sleep.
But if from man's vile arts I flee
And drink pure water from the pump,
I gulp down infusoriae,
And hideous rotatoriae,
And wriggling polygastricae,
And slimy diatomaceae,
And hard-shelled orphryocercinae,
And double-barrelled kolpodae,
Non-loricated ambroellae,
And various animalculae ;
Of middle, high, and low degree ;
For nature just beats all creation
In multiplied adulteration.
A French savant thinks that by the year 2000
a spiritual chemistry will have been discovered
that should entirely change human nature. This
will be greatly due to chemistry utilising the heat
of the sun and tapping the central heat of the
globe. Under the reign of chemistry the earth,
we are told, will become a vast pleasure garden,
and the human race vrUl liVCin peace and plenty.' j
The name of De la Rue is known in every part
of the world, and the late Mr. Warren De la
Rue, who was buried last week, was until 1886—
when he retired—the head of the firm. It was,
however, as a man of science that he was famous.
So far back as 1860 he succeeded when he was
in Spain in obtaining a series of photographs of
the total eclipse of the sun. Subsequently he
established a private observatory at Oranford in
Middlesex, which was dismantled in 1873. In
1874 he fitted up a private physical laboratory,
where, employing a battery of 15,000 chloride-
of-silver cells, he carried on, in conjunction with
a friend, an elaborate series of researches on the
electrical discharge. Mr. De la Rue never
hesitated to spend money in the pursuit of
science, and, as he had always plenty of it, he
pursued his studies in the manner he pleased. He
was an able lecturer, and he published several
scientific works which are much valued. Withal
he was capital company and dearly loved a joke.
The Alkahest.
257
XIV.
"And now, mademoiselle, what do you intend to
do!" said Pierquin.
"Save the family," she answered simply. "We
own nearly thirteen hundred acres at Waignies. I in¬
tend to clear them, divide them into three farms, put up
the necessary buildings, and then let them. X believe
that in a few years, with patience and great economy,
each of us," motioning to her sister and brother, " will
have a farm of over four hundred acres, which may bring
in, some day, a rental of nearly fifteen thousand francs.
My brother Gabriel will have this house, and all that
now stands in his name on the Grand-Livre, for his
portion. We shall then be able to redeem our father's
property and return it to him free from all encumbrance,
by devoting our incomes, each of us, to paying off" his
debts."
"But, my dear cousin," said the lawyer, amazed at
Marguerite's understanding of business and her cool
judgment, "you will need at least two hundred thou¬
sand francs to clear the land, build your houses, and
purchase cattle. Where will you get such a sum ? "
17
258
The Alkahest.
" That is where my difficulties begin," she said, look¬
ing alternately at Pierquin and de Solis ; "I cannot ask
it from my uncle, who has already spent much money
for us and has given bonds as my father's security."
"You have friends!" cried Pierquin, suddenly per¬
ceiving that the demoiselles Claes were '' four-hundred-
thousand-franc girls," after all.
Emmanuel de Solis looked tenderly at Marguerite.
Pierquin, unfortunately for himself, was a notary still,
even in the midst of his enthusiasm, and he promptly
added, —
" I will lend you these two hundred thousand francs."
Marguerite and Emmanuel consulted each other with
a glance which was a flash of light to Pierquin ; Felicie
colored highly, much gratified to find her cousin as
generous as she desired him to be. She looked at her
sister, wTho suddenly guessed the fact that during her
absence the poor girl had allowed herself to be caught
by Pierquin's meaningless gallantries.
"You shall only pay me five per cent interest," went
on the lawyer, " and refund the money whenever it is
convenient to do so; I will take a mortgage on your
property. And don't be uneasy; you shall only have
the outlay on your improvements to pay; I will find
you trustworthy farmers, and do all your business
gratuitously, so as to help you like a good relation."
Emmanuel made 'Marguerite a sign to refuse the
The Alkahest.
259
offer, but she was too much occupied in studying the
changes of her sister's face to perceive it. After a
slight pause, she looked at the notary with an amused
smile, and answered of her own accord, to the great joy
of Monsieur de Solis : —
" You are indeed a good relation, —I expected noth¬
ing less of you ; but an interest of five per cent would
delay our release too long. I shall wait till my brother
is of age, and then we will sell out what he has in the
Funds."
Pierquin bit his lip. Emmanuel smiled quietly.
" Felicie, my dear child, take Jean back to school;
Martha will go with you," said Marguerite to her sister.
"Jean, my angel, be a good boy; don't tear your
clothes, for we shall not be rich enough to buy you as
many new ones as we did. Good-by, little one ; study
hard."
Felicie carried off her brother.
" Cousin," said Marguerite to Pierquin, " and you,
monsieur," she said to Monsieur de Solis, " I know you
have been to see my father during my absence, and I
thank you for that proof of friendship. You will not
do less 'I am sure for two poor girls who will be in need
of counsel. Let us understand each other. When I
am at home I shall receive you both with the greatest
pleasure, but when Felicie is here alone with Josette
and Martha, I need not tell you that she ought to see
260
The Alkahest.
no one, not even an old friend or the most devoted of
relatives. Under the circumstances in which we are
placed, our conduct must be irreproachable. We are
vowed to toil and solitude for a long, long time."
There was silence for some minutes. Emmanuel,
absorbed in contemplation of Marguerite's head, seemed
dumb. Pierquin did not know what to say. He took
leave of his cousin with feelings of rage against himself;
for he suddenly perceived that Marguerite loved Em¬
manuel, and that he, Pierquin, had just behaved like a
fool.
" Pierquin, my friend," he said, apostrophizing him¬
self in the street, " if a man said you were an idiot he
would tell the truth. What a fool I am! I've got
twelve thousand francs a j-ear outside of my business,
without counting what I am to inherit from my uncle
des Racquets, which is likely to double my fortune
(not that I wish him dead, he is so economical), and
I've had the madness to ask interest from Mademoi¬
selle Claes ! I know those two are jeering at me now !
I must n't think of Marguerite any more. No. After
all, Felicie is a sweet, gentle little creature, who will suit
me much better. Marguerite's character is iron; she
would want to rule me — and — she would rule me.
Come, come, let's be generous; I wish I was not so
much of a lawyer: am I never to get that harness off
my back ? Bless my soul! I '11 begin to fall in love
The Alkahest.
261
with Felicie, and I won't budge from that sentiment.
She will have a farm of four hundred and thirty acres,
which, sooner or later, will be worth twelve or fifteen
thousand francs a year, for the soil about Waignies is
excellent. Just let my old uncle des Racquets die,
poor dear man, and I '11 sell my practice and be a man
of leisure, with fifty — thou — sand — francs — a — year.
My wife is a Claes, I'm allied to the great families.
The deuce ! we '11 see if those Courtevilles and Magal-
hens and Savaron de Savarus will refuse to come and
dine with a Pierquin-Claes-Molina-Nourho. I shall be
mayor of Douai; I '11 obtain the cross, and get to be
deputy — in short, everything. Ha, ha ! Pierquin, my
boy, now keep yourself in hand; no more nonsense,
because — }res, on my word of honor — Felicie — Ma¬
demoiselle Felicie Van Claes — loves you !"
When the lovers were left alone Emmanuel held out
his hand to Marguerite, who did not refuse to put
her right hand into it. They rose with one impulse
and moved towards their bench in the garden; but as
they reached the middle of the parlor, the lover could
not resist his joy, and, in a voice that trembled with
emotion, he said,—
" I have three hundred thousand francs of yours."
"What!" she cried, "did my poor mother in¬
trust them to you? No? then where did you get
them."
262
The Alkahest.
" Oh, my Marguerite ! all that is mine is yours. Was
it not you who first said the word ' ourselves' ?"
"Dear Emmanuel!" she exclaimed, pressing the
hand which still held hers; and then, instead of going
into the garden, she threw herself into a low chair.
" It is for me to thank you," he said, with the voice
of love, " since you accept all."
"Oh, my dear beloved one," she cried, "this mo¬
ment effaces man}' a grief and brings the happy future
nearer. Yes, I accept your, fortune," she continued,
with the smile of an angel upon her lips, " I know the
way to make it mine."
She looked up at the picture of Van Claes as if call¬
ing him to witness. The }Toung man's eyes followed
those of Marguerite, and he did not notice that she took
a ring from her finger until he heard the words: —
'' From the depths of our greatest misery one com¬
fort rises. My father's indifference leaves me the free
disposal of myself," she said, holding out the ring.
"Take it, Emmanuel. My mother valued you — she
would have chosen you."
The young man turned pale with emotion and fell on
his knees beside her, offering in return a ring which he
always wore.
" This is my mother's wedding-ring," he said, kissing
it. " My Marguerite, am I to have no other pledge
than this ? "
The Alkahest.
263
She stooped a little till her forehead met his lips.
"Alas, dear love," she said, greatly agitated, "are
we not doing wrong? We have so long to wait!"
" My uncle used to say that adoration was the daily
bread of patience, — he spoke of Christians who love
God. That is how I love you ; I have long mingled my
love for you with my love for Him. I am yours as I
am His."
They remained for a few moments in the power of
this sweet enthusiasm. It was the calm, sincere effu¬
sion of a feeling which, like an overflowing spring,
poured forth its superabundance in little wavelets.
The events which separated these lovers produced a
melancholy which only made their happiness the keener,
giving it a sense of something sharp, like pain.
Felicie came back too soon. Emmanuel, inspired by
that delightful tact of love which discerns all feelings,
left the sisters alone, — exchanging a look with Mar¬
guerite to let her know how much this discretion cost
him, how hungry his soul was for that happiness so
long desired, which had just-been consecrated by the
betrothal of their hearts.
"Come here, little sister," said Marguerite, taking
Felicie round the neck. Then, passing into the garden
they sat down on the bench where generation after gen¬
eration had confided to listening hearts their words of
love, their sighs of grief, their meditations and their
264
The Alkahest.
projects. In spite of her sister's joyous tone and lively
manner, Felicie experienced a sensation that was very
like fear. Marguerite took her hand and felt it tremble.
" Mademoiselle Felicie," said the elder, with her lips
at her sister's ear. "I read your soul. Pierquin has
been here often in m}* absence, and he has said sweet
words to you, and 3'ou have listened to them." Felicie
blushed. " Don't defend yourself, my angel," continued
Marguerite, "it is so natural to love! Perhaps }Tour
dear nature will improve his ; he is egotistical and self-
interested, but for all that he is a good man, and his
defects may even add to your happiness. He will love
you as the best of his possessions ; you will be a part
of his business affairs. Forgive me this one word,
dear love; you will soon correct the bad habit he has
acquired of seeing money in everything, by teaching
him the business of the heart."
Felicie could only kiss her sister.
"Besides," added Marguerite, "he has property;
and his family belongs to the highest and the oldest
bourgeoisie. But you don't think I would oppose your
happiness even if the conditions were less prosperous,
do you?"
Felicie let fall the words, " Dear sister."
"Yes, you may confide in me," cried Marguerite,
" sisters can surely tell each other their secrets."
These words, so full of heartiness, opened the way
The Alkahest.
265
to one of those delightful conversations in which young
girls tell all. When Marguerite, expert in love, reached
an understanding of the real state of Felicie's heart,
she wound up their talk by saying: —
"Well, dear child, let us make sure he truly loves
you, and — then — "
"Ah!" cried Felicie, laughing, "leave me to my
own devices ; I have a model before my e3^es."
" Saucy child!" exclaimed Marguerite, kissing her.
Though Pierquin belonged to the class of men who
regard marriage as the accomplishment of a social duty
and the means of transmitting property, and though he
was indifferent to wrhich sister he should marry so long
as both had the same name and the same dower, he did
perceive that the two were, to use his own expression,
"romantic and sentimental girls," adjectives employed
by commonplace people to ridicule the gifts which
Nature sows with grudging hand along the furrows of
humanity. The lawyer no doubt said to himself that
he had better swim with the stream; and accordingly
the next day he came to see Marguerite, and took her
mysteriously into the little garden, where he began to
talk sentiment, — that being one of the clauses of the
primal contract which, according to social usage, must
precede the notarial contract.
"Dear cousin," he said, "you and I have not always
been of one mind as to the best means of bringing your
266
The Alkahest.
affairs to a happy conclusion; but you do now, I am
sure, admit that I have always been guided by a great
desire to be useful to you. Well, yesterday I spoiled
my offer by a fatal habit which the legal profession
forces upon us—you understand me? My heart did
.not share in the folly. I have loved you well; hut
I have a certain perspicacity, legal perhaps, which
obliges me to see that I do not please you. It is my
own fault; another has been more successful than I.
Well, I come now to tell }'Ou, like an honest man, that
I sincerely love your sister Feiicie. Treat me there¬
fore as a brother ;• accept my purse, take what you will
from it, — the more you take the better you prove your
regard for me. I am wholly at your service — without
interest, you understand, neither at twelve nor at one
quarter per cent. Let me be thought worthy of Feiicie]
that is all I ask; Forgive my defects ; they come from
business habits; my heart is good, and I would fling
myself into the Scarpe sooner than not make my wife
happy."
"This is all satisfactory, cousin," answered Mar¬
guerite; "but my sister's choice depends upon herself
and also on my father's will."
"I know that, my dear cousin," said the lawyer,
"but you are the mother of the] whole family; and I
have nothing more at heart than that you should judge
me rightly."
The Alkahest.
267
This conversation paints the mind of the honest
notary. Later in life, Pierquin became celebrated by
his reply to the commanding officer at Saint-Omer, who
had invited him to be present at a military fete; the
note ran as follows: "Monsieur Pierquin-Claes de
Molina-Nourho, mayor of the city of Douai, cheva¬
lier of the Legion of honor, will have that of being
present, etc."
Marguerite accepted the lawyer's offer only so far as
it related to his professional services, so that she might
not in any degree compromise either her own dignity as
'a woman, or her sister's future, or her father's authority.
The next day she confided Felicie to the care of
Martha and Josette (who vowed themselves body and
soul to their young mistress, and seconded all her econ¬
omies), and started herself for Waignies, where she be¬
gan operations, which were judiciously overlooked and
directed by Pierquin. Devotion was now set clown
as a good speculation in the mind of that worthy man ;
his care and trouble were in fact an investment, and he
had no wish to be niggardly in making it. First he
contrived to save Marguerite the trouble of clearing the
land and working the ground intended for the farms.
He found three young men, sons of rich farmers,
who were anxious to settle themselves in life, and he
succeeded, through the prospect he held out to them of
the fertility of the land, in making them take leases of
268
The Alkahest.
the three farms on which the buildings were to be con¬
structed. To gain possession of the farms rent-free
for three years the tenants bound themselves to pay
ten thousand francs a year the fourth year, twelve
thousand the sixth year, and fifteen thousand for the
remainder of the term; to drain the land, make the
plantations, and purchase the cattle. While the build¬
ings were being put up the farmers were to clear the
land.
Four years after Balthazar Claes's departure from his
home Marguerite had almost recovered the property of
her brothers and sister. Two hundred thousand francs,
lent to her by Emmanuel, had sufficed to put up the
farm buildings. Neither help nor counsel was withheld
from the brave girl, whose conduct excited the admira¬
tion of the whole town. Marguerite superintended the
buildings, and looked after her contracts and leases
with the good sense, activity, and perseverance, which
women know so well how to call up when they are ac¬
tuated by a strong sentiment. By the fifth year she
was able to apply thirty thousand francs from the
rental of the farms, together with the income from
the Funds standing in her brother's name, and the pro¬
ceeds of her father's property, towards paying off the
mortgages on that property and repairing the devasta¬
tion which her father's passion had wrought in the old
mansion of the Claes. This redemption went on more
The Alkahest.
269
rapidly as the interest account decreased. Emmanuel
de Solis persuaded Marguerite to take the remaining
one hundred thousand francs of his uncle's bequest,
and by joining to it twenty thousand francs of his own
savings, pay off in the third year of her management
a large slice of the debts. This life of courage, priva¬
tion, and endurance was never relaxed for five years;
but all went well, — everything prospered under, the
administration and influence of Marguerite Claes.
Gabriel, now holding an appointment under govern¬
ment as engineer in the department of Roads and
Bridges, made a rapid fortune, aided by his great-
uncle, in a canal which he was able to construct;
moreover, he succeeded in pleasing his cousin Made¬
moiselle Cooyncks, the idol of her father, and one of
the richest heiresses in Flanders. In 1824 the whole
Claes property was free, and the house in the rue de
Paris had repaired its losses. Pierquin made a formal
application to Balthazar for the hand of Felicie, and
Monsieur de Solis did the same for that of Marguerite.
At the beginning of January, 1825, Marguerite and
Monsieur Conyncks left Douai to bring home the exiled
father, whose return was eagerly desired by all, and
who had sent in his resignation that he might return
to his family and crown their happiness by his presence.
Marguerite had often expressed a regret at not being
able to replace the pictures which had formerly adorned
270
The Alkahest.
the gallery and the reception-rooms, before the day
when her father would return as master of his house.
In her absence Pierquin and Monsieur de Solis plotted
with Felicie to prepare a surprise which should make
the younger sister a sharer in the restoration of the
House of Claes. The two bought a number of fine pic¬
tures,. which they presented to Felicie to decorate the
gallery. Monsieur Conyncks had thought of the same
thing. Wishing to testify to Marguerite the satisfaction
he had taken in her noble conduct and in the self-devo¬
tion with which she had fulfilled her mother's dying
mandate, he arranged that fifty of his fine pictures,
among them several of those which Balthazar had
formerly sold, should be brought to Douai in Margue¬
rite's absence, so that the Claes gallery might once more
be complete.
During the years that had elapsed since Balthazar
Claes left his home, Marguerite had visited her father
several times, accompanied by her sister or bj7 Jean.
Each time she had found him more and more changed ;
but since her last visit old age had come upon Baltha¬
zar with alarming symptoms, the gravity of which was
much increased by the parsimony with which he lived
that he might spend the greater part of his salary in ex¬
periments the results of which forever disappointed him.
Though he was only sixty-five years of age, he appeared
to be eighty. His eyes were sunken in their orbits, his
The Alkahest.
271
eyebrows had whitened, only a few hairs remained as a
fringe around his skull; he allowed his beard to grow,
and cut it off with scissors when its length annoyed
him; he was bent like a field-laborer, and the condi¬
tion of his clothes had reached a degree of wretched¬
ness which his decrepitude • now rendered hideous.
Thought still animated that noble face, whose features
were scarcely discernible under its wrinkles; but the
fixity of the eyes, a certain desperation of manner, a
restless uneasiness, were all diagnostics of insanity, or
rather of many forms of insanity. Sometimes a flash
of hope gave him the look of a monomaniac; at other
times impatient anger at not seizing a secret which
flitted before his eyes like a will o' the wisp brought
symptoms of madness into his face; or sudden bursts
of maniacal laughter betrayed his irrationality: but
during the greater part of the time, lie was sunk in
a state of complete depression which combined all the
phases of insanity in the cold melancholy of an idiot.
However fleeting and imperceptible these symptoms
may have been to the eye of strangers, they were,
unfortunately, only too plain to those who had known
Balthazar Claes sublime in goodness, noble in heart,
stately in person, — a Claes of whom, alas, scarcely a
vestige now remained.
Lemulquinier, grown old and wasted like his master
with incessant toil, had not, like him, been subjected to
272
The Alkahest.
the ravages of thought. The expression of tne old
valet's face showed a singular mixture of anxiety and
admiration for his master which might easily have
misled an onlooker. Though he listened to Balthazar's
words with respect, and followed his every movement
with tender solicitude, he took charge of the servant of
science very much as a mother takes care of her child,
and even seemed to protect him, because in the vulgar
details of life, to which Balthazar gave no thought, he
actually did protect him. These old men, wrapped in
one idea, confident of the reality of their hope, stirred
by the same breath, the one representing the shell, the
other the soul of their mutual existence, formed a spec¬
tacle at once tender and distressing.
When Marguerite and Monsieur de Conyncks arrived,
they found Claes living at an inn. His successor had
not been kept waiting, and was already in possession of
his office.
Tbc Hottest Place 09 Eartb-
According to Belzoni, the hottest tract in the i
world is that between the first and second cataract
of the Nile, owing to there being no rain what- ■
ever in that region. The natives inhabiting the
country do not credit the phenomenon of water |
i falling from above.. For that reason all the monu- j
ments thereabouts are perfectly preserved regard¬
less of their age. Buckingham found the ehalk
marks of the builders still perfect on the stones
of a structure left unfinished 4000 years ago. -'V. - j
The Alkahest.
273
XV.
Through all the preoccupations of science, the desire
to see his native town, his house, his family, agitated
Balthazar's mind. His daughter's letters had told him
of the happy family events; he dreamed of crowning
his career by a series of experiments that must lead to
the solution of the great Problem, and he awaited Mar¬
guerite's arrival with extreme impatience.
The daughter threw herself into her father's arms and
wept for joy. This time she came to seek a recompense
for years of pain, and pardon for the exercise of her
domestic authorit}". She seemed to herself criminal, like
those great men who violate the liberties of the people
for the safet}'' of the nation. But she shuddered as she
now contemplated her father and saw the change which
had taken place in him since her last visit. Monsieur
Conyncks shared the secret alarm of his niece, and in¬
sisted on taking Balthazar as soon as possible to Douai,
where the influence of his native place might restore
him to health and reason amid the happiness of a re¬
covered domestic life.
18
274
The Alkahest.
After the first transports of the heart were over,
— which were far warmer on Balthazar's part than
Marguerite had expected, — he showed a singular
state of feeling towards his daughter. He expressed
regret at receiving her in a miserable inn, inquired
her tastes and wishes, and asked what she would
have to eat, with the eagerness of a lover; his man¬
ner was even that of a culprit seeking to propitiate
a judge.
Marguerite knew her father so well that she guessed
the motive of this solicitude ; she felt sure he had con¬
tracted debts in the town which he wished to pay before
his departure. She observed him carefully for a time,
and saw the human heart in all its nakedness. Bal¬
thazar had dwindled from his true self. The conscious¬
ness of his abasement, and the isolation of his life in the
pursuit of science made him timid and childish in all
matters not connected with his favorite occupations.
His daughter awed him; the remembrance of her past
devotion, of the energ}^ she had displayed, of the powers
he had allowed her to take away from him, of the wealth
now at her command, and the indefinable feelings that
had preyed upon him ever since the day when he had
abdicated a paternity he had long neglected, — all these
things affected his mind towards her, and increased her
importance in his eyes. Cony neks was nothing to him
beside Marguerite ; he saw only his daughter, he thought
The Alkahest
275
only of her, and seemed to fear her, as certain weak hus¬
bands fear a superior woman who rules them. When
he raised his eyes and looked at her, Marguerite noticed
with distress an expression of fear, like that of a child
detected in a fault. The noble girl was unable to recon¬
cile the majestic and terrible expression of that bald
head, denuded by science and by toil, with the puerile
smile, the eager servility exhibited on the lips and coun¬
tenance of the old man. She suffered from the contrast
of that greatness to that- littleness, and resolved to use
her utmost influence to restore her father's sense of dig¬
nity before the solemn day on which he was to reappear
in the bosom of his family. Her first step when they
were alone was to ask him, —
" Do you owe anything here?"
Balthazar colored, and replied with an embarrassed
air: —
" I don't know, but Lemulquinier can tell }*ou. That
worthy fellow knows more about my affairs than I do
myself."
Marguerite rang for the valet: when he came she
studied, almost involuntarily, the faces of the two old
men.
" What does monsieur want?" asked Lemulquinier.
Marguerite, who was all pride and dignity, felt an
oppression at her heart as she perceived from the
tone and manner of the servant that some mortifying
276
The Alkahest.
familiarit}7 had grown up between her father and the
companion of his labors.
" My father cannot make out the account of what he
owes in this place without you," she said.
" Monsieur," began Lemulquinier, " owes — "
At these words Balthazar made a sign to his valet
which Marguerite intercepted; it humiliated her.
" Tell me all that my father owes," she said.
"Monsieur owes, here, about three thousand francs
to an apothecary who is a wholesale dealer in drugs;
he has supplied us with pearl-ash and lead, and zinc and
the reagents — "
" Is that all?" asked Marguerite.
Again Balthazar made a sign to Lemulquinier, who
replied, as if under a spell, —
" Yes, mademoiselle."
" Very good," she said, " I will give them to you."
Balthazar kissed her joyously and said. —
" You are an angel, my child."
He breathed at his ease and glanced at her with eyes
that were less sad; and yet, in spite of this apparent
joy, Marguerite easily detected the signs of deep anx¬
iety upon his face, and felt certain that the three thou¬
sand francs represented only the pressing debts of his
laboratory.
" Be frank with me, father," she said, letting him seat
her on his knee ; '' you owe more than that. Tell me
The Alkahest.
277
all, and come back to your home without an element of
fear in the midst of the general joy."
"My dear Marguerite," he said, taking her hands
and kissing them with a grace that seemed a memory
of his youth, " you would scold me — "
" No," she said.
" Truly?" he asked, giving way to childish expres¬
sions of delight. '' Can I tell you all ? will you pay — "
" Yes," she said, repressing the tears which came
into her ej-es.
" "Well, I owe — oh! I dare not — "
" Tell me, father."
" It is a great deal."
She clasped her hands, with a gesture of despair.
" I owe thirty thousand francs to Messieurs Protez
and Chiffreville."
" Thirty thousand francs," she said, " is just the
sum I have laid by. I am glad to give it to you," she
added, respectfully kissing his brow.
He rose, took his daughter in his arms and whirled
about the room, dancing her as though she were an in¬
fant ; then he placed her in the chair where she had
been sitting, and exclaimed : —
" My darling child! my treasure of love! I was
half-dead : the Chiffrevilles have written me three
threatening letters; they were about to sue me, —
me, who would have made their fortune!"
278
The Alkahest.
" Father," said Marguerite in accents of despair,
"are you still searching?"
"Yes, still searching," he said, with the smile of a
madman, " and I shall find. If you could only under¬
stand the point we have reached — "
" We? who are we? "
" I mean Mulquinier: he has understood me, he loves
me. Poor fellow! he is devoted to me."
Conyncks entered at the moment and interrupted the
conversation. Marguerite made a sign to her father to
say no more, fearing lest he should lower himself in her
•uncle's eyes. She was frightened at the ravages thought
had made in that noble mind, absorbed in searching for
the solution of a problem that was perhaps insoluble.
Balthazar, who saw and knew nothing outside of his
furnaces, seemed not to realize the liberation of his
fortune i
On the morrow they started for Flanders. During
the journey Marguerite gained some confused light
upon the position in which Lemulquinier and her father
stood to each other. The valet had acquired an as¬
cendency over his master such as common men with¬
out education are able to obtain over great minds to
whom they feel themselves necessary; such men, tak¬
ing advantage of concession after concession, aim at
complete dominion with the persistency that comes
of a fixed idea. In this case the master had contracted
The Alkahest.
279
for the man the sort of affection that grows out of
habit, like that of a workman for his creative tool, or
an Arab for the horse that gives him freedom. Mar¬
guerite studied the signs of this tyranny, resolving to
withdraw her father from its humiliating yoke if it were
real.
They stopped several days in Paris on the way home,
to enable Marguerite to pay off her father's debts and
request the manufacturers of chemical products to send
nothing to Douai without first informing her of any
orders given by Claes. She persuaded her father to
change his style of dress and buy clothes that were
suitable to a man of his station. This corporal restor¬
ation gave Balthazar a certain physical dignity which
augured well for a change in his ideas ; and Marguerite,
joyous in the thought of all the surprises that awaited
her father when he entered his own house, started for
Douai.
Nine miles from the town Balthazar was met by
Felicie on horseback, escorted by her two brothers,
Emmanuel, Pierquin, and some of the nearest friends
of the three families. The journey had necessarily di¬
verted the chemist's mind from its habitual thoughts;
the aspect of his own Flanders acted on his heart; when,
therefore, he saw the joyous company of his family and
friends gathering about him his emotion was so keen
that the tears came to his eyes, his voice trembled, his
280
The Alkahest.
e}-elids reddened, and he held his children in so passion¬
ate an embrace, seeming unable to release them, that
the spectators of the scene were moved to tears.
When at last he saw the House of Claes he turned
pale, and sprang from the carriage with the agility of a
young man ; he breathed the air of the court-yard with
delight, and looked about him at the smallest details
with a pleasure that could express itself only in ges¬
tures : he drew himself erect, and his whole countenance
renewed its youth. The tears came into his eyes
when he entered the parlor and noticed the care with
which his daughter had replaced the old silver cande¬
labra that he formerly had sold, — a visible sign that
all the other disasters had been repaired. Breakfast
was served in the dining-room, whose sideboards and
shelves were covered with curios and silver-ware not
less valuable than the treasures that formerly stood
there. Though the family meal lasted a long time, it
was still too short for the narratives which Balthazar
exacted from each of his children. The reaction of his
moral being caused by this return to his home wedded
him once more to family happiness, and he was again
a father. His manners recovered their former dignity.
At first the delight of recovering possession kept him
from dwelling on the means by which the recovery had
been brought about. His joy therefore was full and
unalloyed.
The Alkahest.
281
Breakfast over, the four children, the father and Pier-
quin went into the parlor, where Balthazar saw with
some uneasiness a number of legal papers which the
notary's clerk had laid upon a table, by which he was
standing as if to assist his chief. The children all sat
down, and Balthazar, astonished, remained standing
before the fireplace.
" This," said Pierquin, " is the guardianship account
which Monsieur Claes renders to his children. It is
not very amusing," he added, laughing after the man¬
ner of notaries who generally assume a lively tone in
speaking of serious matters, " but I must really oblige
you to listen to it."
Though the phrase was natural enough under the cir¬
cumstances, Monsieur Claes, whose conscience recalled
his past life, felt it to be a reproach, and his brow
clouded.
The clerk began the reading. Balthazar's amazement
increased as little by little the statement unfolded the
facts. In the first place, the fortune of his wife at the
time of her decease was declared to have been sixteen
hundred thousand francs or thereabouts ; and the sum¬
ming up of the account showed clearly that the portion
of each child was intact and as well-invested as if the
best and wisest father had controlled it. In consequence
of this the House of Claes was free from all lien, Bal¬
thazar was master of it; moreover, his rural property
282
The Alkahest.
was likewise released from incumbrance. When all
the papers connected with these matters were signed,
Pierquin presente'd the receipts for the repayment of
the moneys formerly borrowed, and releases of the vari¬
ous liens on the estates.
Balthazar, conscious that he had recovered the honor
of his manhood, the life of a father, the dignity of a
citizen, fell into a chair, and looked about for Margue¬
rite ; but she, with the instinctive delicacy of her sex,
had left the room during the reading of the papers, as if
to see that all the arrangements for the fete were prop¬
erly prepared. Each member of the family understood
the old man's wish when the failing humid eyes sought
for the daughter, —who was seen by all present, with the
e}res of the soul, as an angel of strength and light within
the house. Gabriel went to find her. Hearing her step,
Balthazar ran to clasp her in his arms.
"Father," she said, at the foot of the stairs, where
the old man caught her and strained her to his breast,
" I implore you not to lessen 3'our sacred authority.
Thank me before the family for carrying out your
wishes, and be the sole author of the good that has
been done here."
Balthazar lifted his eyes to heaven, then looked at
his daughter, folded his arms, and said, after a pause,
during which his face recovered an expression his child¬
ren had not seen upon it for ten long years, —
The Alkahest.
283
"Pepita, why are you not here to praise our child ! "
He strained Marguerite to him, unable to utter an¬
other word, and went hack to the parlor.
" My children/' he said, with the nobility of demeanor
that in former days had made him so imposing, '' we
all owe gratitude and thanks to my daughter Marguerite
for the wisdom and courage with which she has fulfilled
my intentions and carried out my plans, when I, too ab¬
sorbed by my labors, gave the reins of our domestic
government into her hands."
"Ah, now!" cried Pierquin, looking at the clock,
"we must read the marriage contracts. But they are
not my affair, for the law forbids me to draw up such
deeds between my relations and myself. Monsieur
Raparlier is coming."
The friends of the family, invited to the dinner given
to celebrate Claes's return and the signing of the mar¬
riage contracts, now began to arrive; and their ser¬
vants brought in the wedding-presents. The company
quickly assembled, and the scene was imposing as
much from the quality of the persons present as from
the elegance of the toilettes. The three families, thus
united through the happiness of their children, seemed
to vie with each other in contributing to the splendor
of the occasion. The parlor was soon filled with the
charming gifts that are made to bridal couples. Gold
shimmered and glistened; silks and satins, cashmere
284
The Alkahest.
shawls, necklaces, jewels, afforded as much delight to
those who gave as to those who received; enjoyment
that was almost childlike shone on ever}7 face, and the
mere value of the magnificent presents was lost sight
of by the spectators, — who often busy themselves in
estimating it out of curiosity.
The ceremonial forms used for generations in the
Claes family for solemnities of this nature now began.
The parents alone were seated, all present stood be¬
fore them at a little distance. To the left of the par¬
lor on the garden side were Gabriel and Mademoiselle
Conyncks, next to them stood Monsieur de Solis and
Marguerite, and farther on, Felicie and Pierquin. Bal¬
thazar and Monsieur Conyncks, the only persons who
were seated, occupied two armchairs beside the notary
who, for this occasion, had taken Pierquin's duty. Jean
stood behind his father. A score of ladies elegantly
dressed, and a few men chosen from among the nearest
relatives of the Pierquins, the Conyncks, and the Claes,
the mayor of Douai, who was to marry the couples,
the twelve witnesses chosen from among the nearest
friends of the three families, all, even the curate of
Saint-Pierre, remained standing and formed an impos¬
ing circle at the end of the parlor next the court-yard.
This homage paid b}7 the whole assembly to Paternity,
which at such a moment shines with almost regal ma¬
jesty, gave to the scene a certain antique character. It
The Alkahest.
285
was the only moment for sixteen long years when Bal¬
thazar forgot the Alkahest.
Monsieur Raparlier went up to Marguerite and her
sister and asked if all the persons invited to the cere¬
mony and to the dinner had arrived; on receiving an
affirmative reply, he returned to his station and took
up the marriage contract between Marguerite and Mon¬
sieur de Solis, which was the first to be read, when sud¬
denly the door of the parlor opened and Lemulquinier
entered, his face flaming.
"Monsieur! monsieur!" he cried.
Balthazar flung a look of despair at Marguerite, then,
making her a sign, he drew her into the garden. The
whole assembly were conscious of a shock.
"I dared not tell you, my child," said the father,
" but since you have done so much, you will save me, I
know, from this last trouble. Lemulquinier lent me all
his savings—the fruit of twenty years' economy — for
my last experiment, which failed. He has come, no
doubt, finding that I am once more rich, to insist on
having them back. Ah! my angel, give them to him ;
you owe him jrour father; he alone consoled me in my
troubles, he alone has had faith in me, — without him I
should have died."
"Monsieur! monsieur!" cried Lemulquinier.
'' What is it ?" said Balthazar, turning round.
" A diamond ! "
286
The Alkahest.
Claes sprang into the parlor and saw the stone in tliG
hands of the old valet, who whispered in his ear, —
" I have been to the laboratory."
The chemist, forgetting everything about him, cast a
terrible look on the old Fleming which meant, "You
went before me to the laboratory! "
"Yes," continued Lemulquinier, "I found the dia¬
mond in the china capsule which communicated with
the battery which we left to work, monsieur — and
see!" he added, showing a white diamond of octahe¬
dral form, whose brilliancy drew the astonished gaze of
all present.
" My children, my friends," said Balthazar, "forgive
my old servant, forgive me ! This event will drive me
mad. The chance work of seven years has produced —
without me — a discovery I have sought for sixteen
3-ears. How? My God, I know not—yes, I left sul¬
phide of carbon under the influence of a Voltaic pile,
whose action ought to have been watched from da}- to
day. During my absence the power of God has worked
in my laboratory, but I was not there to note its pro¬
gressive effects! Is it not awful? Oh, cursed exile!
cursed chance! Alas ! had I watched that slow, that
sudden — what can I call it?-—-crystallization, trans¬
formation, in short that miracle, then, then my chil¬
dren would have been richer still. Though this result
is not the solution of the Problem which I seek, the
The Alkahest.
287
first rays of my glory would have shone from that dia¬
mond upon my native country, and this hour, which
our satisfied affections have made so happ}q would
have glowed with the sunlight of Science."
Every one kept silence in the presence of such a
man. The disconnected words wrung from him by
his anguish were too sincere not to be sublime.
Suddenly, Balthazar drove back his despair into the
depths of his own being, and cast upon the assembly a
majestic look which affected the souls of all; he took
the diamond and offered it to Marguerite, saying., —
" It is thine, my angel."
Then he dismissed Lemulquinier with a gesture, and
motioned to the notary, saying, " Go on."
The two words sent a shudder of emotion through
the company such as Talma in certain roles produced
among his auditors. Balthazar, as he reseated himself,
said in a low voice, —
"To-day I must be a father only."
Marguerite hearing the words went up to him and
caught his hand and kissed it respectfully.
"No man was ever greater," said Emmanuel, when
his bride returned to him; "no man was ever so
mighty ; another would have gone mad."
After the three contracts were read and signed, the
company hastened to question Balthazar as to the
manner in which the diamond had been formed; but
288
The Alkahest.
lie could tell tliem nothing about so strange an acci¬
dent. He looked through the window at his garret and
pointed to it with an angry gesture.
"Yes, the awful power resulting from a movement
of fiery matter which no doubt produces metals, dia¬
monds," he said, " was manifested there for one mo¬
ment, by one chance."
'' That chance was of course some natural effect,"
whispered a guest belonging to the class of people who
are ready with an explanation of everything. "At
any rate, it is something saved out of all he has
wasted."
"Let us forget it," said Balthazar, addressing his
friends ; "I beg you to say no more about it to-day."
Marguerite took her father's arm to lead the way to
the reception-rooms of the. front house, where a sump¬
tuous fete had been prepared. As he entered the gal¬
lery, followed by his guests, he beheld it filled with
pictures and garnished with choice flowers.
" Pictures ! " he exclaimed, " pictures ! — and some
of the old ones ! "
He stopped short; his brow clouded; for a mo¬
ment grief overcame him ; he felt the weight of his
wrong-doing as the vista of his humiliation came before
his eyes.
" It is all your own, father," said Marguerite, guess¬
ing the feedings that oppressed his soul.
The Alkahest.
289
'' Angel, whom the spirits in heaven watch and
praise," he cried, "how many times have you given
life to your father ?"
" Then keep no cloud upon your brow, nor the least
sad thought in your heart," she said, "and you will
reward me beyond my hopes. I have been thinking of
Lemulquinier, my darling father; the few words you
said a little while ago have made me value him; per¬
haps I have been unjust to him; he ought to remain
.your humble friend. Emmanuel has laid by nearty
sixty thousand francs which he has economized, and we
will give them to Lemulquinier. After serving you so
well the man ought to be made comfortable for his
remaining years. Do not be uneasy about us. Mon¬
sieur de Solis and I intend to lead a quiet, peaceful
life, — a life without luxury; we can well afford to
lend you that money until you are able to return it."
"Ah, my daughter! never forsake me; continue to
be thy father's providence."
When they entered the reception-rooms Balthazar
found them restored and furnished as elegantly as in
former days. The guests presently descended to the
dining-room on the ground-floor by the grand staircase,
on every step of which were rare plants and flowering
shrubs. A silver service of exquisite workmanship,
the gift of Gabriel to his father, attracted all eyes
to a luxury which was surprising to the inhabitants of
19
290
The Alkahest.
a town where such luxury is traditional. The servants
of Monsieur Conyncks and of Pierquin, as well as those
of the Claes household, were assembled to serve the
repast. Seeing himself once more at the head of that
table, surrounded by friends and relatives and happy
faces beaming with heartfelt joy, Balthazar, behind
whose chair stood Lemulquinier, was overcome by emo¬
tions so deep and so imposing that all present kept
silence, as men are silent before great sorrows or
great joys.
"Dear children," he cried, "you have killed the
fatted calf to welcome home the prodigal father."
These words, in which the father judged himself (and
perhaps prevented others from judging him more se¬
verely), were spoken so nobly that all present shed
tears; they were the last expression of sadness, how¬
ever, and the general happiness soon took on the merry,
animated character of a family fete.
Immediately after dinner the principal people of the
city began to arrive for the ball, which proved worthy
of the almost classic splendor of the restored House of
Claes. The three marriages followed this happy day,
and gave occasion to many fetes, and balls, and din¬
ners, which involved Balthazar for some months in the
vortex of social life. His eldest son and his wife re¬
moved to an estate near Cambrai belonging to Mon¬
sieur Conyncks, who was unwilling to separate from his
The Alkahest.
291
daughter. Madame Pierquin also left her fathers house
to do the honors of a fine mansion which Pierquin had
built, and where he desired to live in all the dignity
of rank; for his practice was sold, and his uncle des
Racquets had died and left him a large property scraped
together by slow economy. Jean went to Paris to finish
his education, and Monsieur and Madame de Solis alone
remained with 'their father in the House of Claes. Bal¬
thazar made over to them the family home in the rear
house, and took up his own abode on the second floor
of the front building.
Tjie chemists have been so energetic in making
new. and increasingly deadly explosives that
it is really difficult to even remember the
name of the compound that is pro tern, accepted
as the,, most destructive known to science. It is
! not, long ago that " melinite " was said to be the
I explosive of the . future, and now it seems
: " bellite" has already taken its place. " Bellite "
is asortof fine yellow sand composed of nitrate of
| ammonia and binitro-benzine, and its explosive
force is declared,to be so much greater than that
of nitro-glycerine, gun-cotton, dynamite, melinite,
or,any other "exploded" explosive, that its in¬
ventor, a Swede named Carl Lamm, is (sanguine
it vyill take the front place amongst these
j terrible compounds. The results of an explosion
{ of bellite on board an ironclad, say, or in a case-
! inept fort would be so awful that M. Lamm
i might appropriately have named his explosive
| " hellite " whilst he was about it.
292
The Alkahest.
XVI.
Marguerite continued to keep watch over her father's
material comfort, aided in the sweet task by Emman¬
uel. The noble girl received from the hands of love
that most envied of all garlands, the wreath that happi¬
ness entwines and constanc}' keeps ever fresh. No
couple ever afforded a better illustration of the com¬
plete, acknowledged, spotless felicity which all women
cherish in their dreams. The union of two beings so
courageous in the trials of life, who had loved each
other through years with so sacred an affection, drew
forth the respectful admiration of the whole community.
Monsieur de Solis, who had long held an appointment
as inspector-general of the University, resigned those
functions to enjoy his happiness more freely, and re¬
mained at Douai where eveiy one did such homage to
his character and attainments that his name was pro¬
posed as candidate for the Electoral college whenever
he should reach the required age. Marguerite, who had
shown herself so strong in adversit}', became in pros¬
perity a sweet and tender woman.
Throughout the following year Claes was grave and
The Alkahest.
293
preoccupied ; and yet, though he made a few inexpen¬
sive experiments for which his ordinary income sufficed,
he seemed to neglect his laboratory. Marguerite re¬
stored all the old customs of the House of Claes, and
gave a family fete every month in honor of her father, at
which the Pierquin's and the Conyncks were present;
and she also received the upper ranks of society one
day in the week at a " cafe " which became celebrated.
Though frequently absent-minded, Claes took part in
all these assemblages and became, to please his daugh¬
ter, so willingly a man of the world that the family
were able to believe he had renounced his search for
the solution of the great problem.
Three years went by. In 1828 family affairs called
Emmanuel de Solis to Spain. Although there were
three numerous branches between himself and the in¬
heritance of the house of Solis, yellow fever, old age,
barrenness, and other caprices of fortune, combined to
make him the last lineal descendant of the family and
heir to the titles and estates of his ancient house.
Moreover, by one of those curious chances which seem
impossible except in a book, the house of Solis had
acquired the territory and titles of the Comtes de
Nourho. Marguerite did not wish to separate from her
husband, who was to stay in Spain long enough to settle
his affairs, and she was, moreover, curious to see the
castle of Casa-Real where her mother had passed her
29-1
The Alkahest.
childhood, and the city of Granada, the cradle of the
de Solis famil}7. She left Douai, consigning the care
of the house to Martha, Josette, and Lemulquinier.
Balthazar, to whom Marguerite had proposed a journe}'
into Spain, declined to accompany her on the ground
of his advanced age; but certain experiments which
he had long meditated, and to which he now trusted
for the realization of his hopes were the real reason of
his refusal.
The Comte and Comtesse cle Solis y Nourho were
detained in Spain longer than the}7 intended. Mar¬
guerite gave birth to a son. It was not until the middle
of 1830 that they reached Cadiz, intending to embark
for Italy on their way back to France. There, how¬
ever, they received a letter from Felicie conveying
disastrous news. Within a few months, their father
had completely ruined himself. Gabriel and Pierquin
were obliged to pay Lemulquinier a monthly stipend
for the bare necessaries of the household. The old
valet had again sacrificed his little property to his mas¬
ter. Balthazar was no longer willing to see any one,
and would not even admit his children to the house.
Martha and Josette were dead. The coachman, the
cook, and the other servants had long been dismissed;
the horses and carriages were sold. Though Lemul¬
quinier maintained the utmost secrec}7 as to his master's
proceedings, it was believed that the thousand francs
The Alkahest.
295
supplied by Gabriel and Pierquin were spent chiefly
on experiments. The small amount of provisions which
the old valet purchased in the town seemed to show
that the two old men contented themselves with the
barest necessaries. To prevent the sale of the House
of Claes, Gabriel and Pierquin were paying the interest
of the sums which their father had again borrowed on it.
None of his children had the slightest influence upon
the old man, who at seventy years of age displayed ex¬
traordinary energy in bending everything to his will,
even in matters that were trivial. Gabriel, Conyncks,
and Pierquin had decided not to pay off his debts.
This letter changed all Marguerite's travelling plans,
and she immediately took the shortest road to Douai.
Her new fortune and her past savings enabled her to
pay off Balthazar's debts ; but she wished to do more,
she wished to obey her mother's last injunction and
save him from sinking dishonored to the grave. She
alone could exercise enough ascendency over the old
man to keep him from completing the work of ruin, at
an age when no fruitful toil could be expected from his
enfeebled faculties. But she was also anxious to con¬
trol him without wounding his susceptibilities, — not
wishing to imitate the children of Sophocles, in case her
father neared the scientific result for which he had
sacrificed so much.
Monsieur and Madame de Solis reached Flanders in
296
The Alkahest.
the last days of September, 1831, and arrived at Douai
daring the morning. Marguerite ordered the coachman
to drive to the house in the rue de Paris, which they
found closed. The bell was loudly rung, but no one
answered. A shopkeeper left his door-step, to which
he had been attracted by the noise of the carriages;
others were at their windows to enjoy a sight of the re¬
turn of the de Solis family to whom all were attached,
enticed also by a vague curiosity as to what would
happen in that house on Marguerite's return to it. The
shopkeeper told Monsieur de Solis's valet that old
Claiis had gone out an hour before, and that Monsieur
Lemulquinier was no doubt taking him to walk on the
ramparts.
Marguerite sent for a locksmith to force the door, —
glad to escape a scene in case her father, as Felicie had
written, should refuse to admit her into the house.
Meantime Emmanuel went to meet the old man and
prepare him for the arrival of his daughter, despatching
a servant to notify Monsieur and Madame Pierquin.
When the door was opened, Marguerite went di¬
rectly to the parlor. Horror overcame her and she
trembled when she saw the walls as bare as if a fire had
swept over them. The glorious carved panellings of
Van Huysum and the portrait of the great Claes had been
sold. The dining-room was empty: there was nothing
in it but two straw chairs and a common deal table, on
The Alkahest.
297
which Marguerite, terrified, saw two plates, two bowls,
two forks and spoons, and the remains of a salt herring
which Claes and his servant had evidently just eaten.
In a moment she had flown through her father's portion
of the house, every room of which exhibited the same
desolation as the parlor and dining-room. The idea of
the Alkahest had swept like a conflagration through the
building. Her father's bedroom had a bed, one chair,
and one table, on which stood a miserable pewter can¬
dlestick with a tallow candle burned almost to' the
socket. The house was so completely stripped that
not so much as a curtain remained at the windows.
Every object of the smallest value,—everything, even
the kitchen utensils, had been sold.
Moved by that feeling of curiosity which never en¬
tirely leaves us even in moments of misfortune, Mar¬
guerite entered Lemulquinier's chamber and found it as
bare as that of his master. In a half-opened table-
drawer she saw a pawnbroker's ticket for the old ser¬
vant's watch which he had pledged some days before.
She ran to the laboratory and found it filled with scien¬
tific instruments, the same as ever. Then she returned
to her own appartement and ordered the door to be
broken open — her father had respected it!
Marguerite burst into tears and forgave her father all.
In the midst of his devastating fury he had stopped
short, restrained by paternal feeling and the gratitude
298
The Alkahest.
he owed to his daughter! This proof of tenderness,
coming to her at a moment when despair had reached
its climax, brought about in Marguerite's soul one of
those moral reactions against which the coldest hearts
are powerless. She returned to the parlor to wait her
father's arrival, in a state of anxiety that was cruelly
aggravated by doubt and uncertainty. ' In what condi¬
tion was she about to see him? Kuined, decrepit, suf¬
fering, enfeebled by the fasts his pride compelled him.
to undergo? Would he have his reason? Tears flowed
unconsciously from her eyes as she looked about the
desecrated sanctuary. The images of her whole life,
her past efforts, her useless precautions, her childhood,
her mother happy and unhappy,—all, even her little
Joseph smiling on that scene of desolation, all were
parts of a poem of unutterable melancholy.
Marguerite foresaw an approaching misfortune, j'et
she little expected the catastrophe which was about to
close her father's life, — that life at once so grand and
•yet so miserable.
The condition of Monsieur Claes was no secret in the
community. To the lasting shame of men, there were
not in all Douai two hearts generous enough to do
honor to the perseverance of this man of genius. In
the eyes of the' world Balthazar was a man to be con¬
demned, a bad father who had squandered six fortunes,
millions, who was actually seeking the philosopher's
The Alkahest.
299
stone in the nineteenth century, this enlightened cen¬
tury, this sceptical century, this century ! — etc. They
calumniated his purposes and branded him with the
name of '' alchemist," casting up to him in mockery
that he was trying to make gold. Ah! what eulogies
are uttered 011 this great century of ours, in which, as
in all the others, genius is smothered under an indiffer¬
ence as brutal as that of the age in which Dante died,
and Tasso and Cervantes and tutti quanti. The people
are as backward as kings in understanding the creations
of genius.
These opinions on the subject of Balthazar Claes
filtered, little by little, from the upper society of Douai
to the bourgeoisie, and from the bourgeoisie to the lower
classes. The old chemist excited pity among persons
of his own rank, satirical curiosity among the others,
— two sentiments big with contempt and with the vae
victis with which the masses assail a man of genius
when they see him in misfortune. Persons often stopped
before the House of Claes to show each other the rose
window of the garret where so much gold and so much
coal had been consumed in smoke. When Balthazar
passed along the streets they pointed to him with their
fingers ; often, on catching sight of him, a mocking jest
or a word of pity would escape the lips of a working-
man or some mere child. But Lemulquinier was care¬
ful to tell his master it was homage; he could deceive
300
The Alkahest.
him with impunity, for though the old man's eyes re¬
tained the sublime clearness which results from the
habit of living among great thoughts, his sense of
hearing was enfeebled.
To most of the peasantry, and to all vulgar and su¬
perstitious minds, Balthazar Claes was a sorcerer. The
noble old mansion, once named by common consent " the
House of Claes," was now called in the suburbs and the
country districts " the Devil's House." Every outward
sign, even the face of Lemulquinier, confirmed the
ridiculous beliefs that were current about Balthazar.
When the old servant went to market to purchase the
few provisions necessary for their subsistence, picking
out the cheapest he could find, insults were flung in as
make-weights,—just as butchers slip bones into their
customers' meat, — and he was fortunate, poor creature,
if some superstitious market-woman did not refuse to
sell him his meagre pittance lest she be damned bjr con¬
tact with an imp of hell.
Thus the feelings of the whole town of Douai were
hostile to the grand old man and to his attendant. The
neglected state of their clothes added to this repulsion ;
they went about clothed like paupers who have seen
better days, and who strive to keep a decent appearance
and are ashamed to beg. It was probable that sooner
or later Balthazar would be insulted in the streets.
Pierquin, feeling how degrading to the family any pub-
The Alkahest.
301
lie insult would be, had for some time past sent two or
three of his own servants to follow the old man when¬
ever he went out, and keep him in sight at a little dis¬
tance, for the purpose of protecting him if necessary, —
the revolution of July not having contributed to make
the citizens respectful.
By one of those fatalities which can never be ex¬
plained, Claes and Lemulquinier had gone out early in
the morning, thus evading the secret guardianship of
Monsieur and Madame Pierquin. On their way back
from the ramparts they sat down to sun themselves on a
bench in the place Saint-Jacques, an open space crossed
by children on their way to school. Catching sight
from a distance of the defenceless old men, whose faces
brightened as they sat basking in the sun, a crowd of
boys began to talk of them. Generally, children's chat¬
ter ends in laughter; on this occasion the laughter led to
jokes of which they did not know the crueltj*. Seven
or eight of the first-comers stood at a little distance,
and examined the strange old faces with smothered
laughter and remarks which attracted Lemulquinier's
attention.
" Hi! do you see that one with a head as smooth as
my knee ? "
"Yes."
" Well, he was born a Wise Man."
" My papa says he makes gold," said another.
302
The Alkahest.
■ The youngest of the troop, who had his basket full
of provisions and was devouring a slice of bread and
butter, advanced to the bench and said boldly to
Lemulquinier, —
" Monsieur, is it true you make pearls and diamonds ?"
" Yes, my little man," replied the valet, smiling and
tapping him on the cheek; "we will give you some if
you study well."
"Ah! monsieur, give me some, too," was the gen¬
eral exclamation.
The boys all rushed together like a flock of birds, and
surrounded the old men. Balthazar, absorbed in medi¬
tation from which he was drawn by these sudden cries,
made a gesture of amazement which caused a general
shout of laughter.
" Come, come, boys ; be respectful to a great man,"
said Lemulquinier.
" Hi, the old harlequin! " cried the lads ; " the old
sorcerer! you are sorcerers ! sorcerers ! sorcerers ! "
Lemulquinier sprang to his feet and threatened the
crowd with his cane; they all ran to a little distance,
picking up stones and mud. A workman who was eat¬
ing his breakfast near by, seeing Lemulquinier brandish
his cane to drive the boys away, thought he had struck
them, and took their part, crying out, —
" Down with the sorcerers ! "
The boys, feeling themselves encouraged, flung their
The Alkahest.
303
missiles at the old men, just as the Comte de Solis,
accompanied by Pierquin's servants, appeared at the
farther end of the square. The latter were too late,
however, to save the old man and his valet from being
pelted with mud. The shock was given. Balthazar,
whose faculties had been preserved by a chasthy of
spirit natural to students absorbed in a quest of dis¬
covery that annihilates all passions, now suddenly di¬
vined, by the phenomenon of introsusception, the true
meaning of the scene: his decrepit body could not
sustain the frightful reaction he underwent in his feel¬
ings, and he fell, struck with paralysis, into the arms
of Lemulquinier, who brought him to his home on a
shutter, attended by his sons-in-law and their servants.
No power could prevent the population of Douai from
following the body of the old man to the door of his
house, where Felicie and her children, Jean, Marguerite,
and Gabriel, whom his sister had sent for, were waiting
to receive him.
The arrival of the old man gave rise to a frightful
scene; he struggled less against the assaults of death
than against the horror of seeing that his children had
entered the house and penetrated the secret of his im¬
poverished life. A bed was at once made up in the
parlor and eveiy care bestowed upon the stricken man,
whose condition, towards evening, allowed hopes that
his life might be preserved. The paralysis, though
804
The Alkahest.
skilfully treated, kept him for some time in a state of
semi-childhood; and when by degrees it relaxed, the
tongue was found to be especially affected, perhaps
because the old man's anger had concentrated all his
forces upon it at the moment when he was about to
apostrophize the children.
This incident roused a general indignation throughout
the town. By a law, up to that time unknown, which
guides the affections of the masses, this event brought
back all hearts to Monsieur Claes. He became once
more a great man ; he excited the admiration and re¬
ceived the good-will that a few hours earlier were denied
to him. Men praised his patience, his strength of will,
his courage, his genius. The authorities wished to ar¬
rest all those who had a share in dealing him this blow.
Too late, —the evil was done ! The Claes family were
the first to beg that the matter might be allowed to
drop.
Marguerite ordered furniture to be brought into the
parlor, and the denuded walls to be hung with silk ; and
when, a few da}Ts after his seizure, the old father re¬
covered his faculties and found himself once more in a
luxurious room surrounded by all that makes life eas}-,
he tried to express his belief that his daughter Mar¬
guerite had returned. At that moment she entered the
room. When Balthazar caught sight of her he colored,
and his eyes grew moist, though the tears did not fall.
The Alkahest.
805
He was able to press his daughter's hand with his cold
fingers, putting into that pressure all the thoughts, all
the feelings he no longer had the power to utter. There
was something holy and solemn in that farewell of the
brain which still lived, of the heart which gratitude
revived. Worn out by fruitless efforts, exhausted in
the long struggle with the gigantic problem, desper¬
ate perhaps at the oblivion which awaited his memory,
this giant among men was about to die. His children
surrounded him with respectful affection; his dying
eyes were cheered with images of plenty and the
touching picture of his. prosperous and noble family.
His every look — by which alone he could manifest his
feelings — was unchangeably affectionate ; his eyes ac¬
quired such variety of expression that they had, as it
were, a language of light, easy to comprehend.
Marguerite paid her father's debts, and restored a
modern splendor to the House of Claes which removed
all outward signs of its decay. She never left the old
man's bedside, endeavoring to divine his every thought
and accomplish his slightest wish.
Some months went by with those alternations of
better and worse which attend the struggle of life and
death in old people ; every morning his children came
to him and spent the day in the parlor, dining by his
bedside and only leaving him when he went to sleep
for the night. The occupation which gave him most
20
306
The Alkahest.
pleasure, among the many with which his family sought
to enliven him, was the reading of newspapers, to
which the political events then occurring gave a special
interest. Monsieur Claes listened attentively as Mon¬
sieur de Solis read them aloud beside his bed.
Towards the close of the year 1832, Balthazar passed
an extremely critical night, during which Monsieur
Pierquin, the doctor, was summoned by the nurse, who
was greatly alarmed at the sudden change which took
place in the patient. For the rest of the night the
doctor remained to watch him, fearing he might at any
moment expire in the throes of inward convulsion,
whose effects were like those of a last agonj*.
The old man made incredible efforts to shake off the
bonds of his paralysis; he tried to speak and moved
his tongue, unable to make a sound; his flaming eyes
emitted thoughts ; his drawn features expressed an un¬
told agony; his fingers writhed in desperation; the
sweat stood in drops upon his brow. In the morning
when his children came to his bedside and kissed him
with an affection which the sense of coming death made
day by day more ardent and more eager,- he showed
none of his usual satisfaction at these signs of their ten¬
derness. Emmanuel, instigated by the doctor, hastened
to open the newspaper to try if the usual reading might
not relieve the inward crisis in which Balthazar was
evidently struggling. As he unfolded the sheet he saw
The Alkahest.
307
the words, "Discovery of the Absolute," — which
startled him, and he read a paragraph to Marguerite
concerning a sale made by a celebrated Polish mathe¬
matician of the secret of the Absolute. Though Em¬
manuel read in a low voice, and Marguerite signed to
him to omit the passage, Balthazar heard it.
Suddenly the dying man raised himself by his wrists
and cast on his frightened children a look which struck
like lightning; the hairs that fringed the bald head
stirred, the wrinkles quivered, the features were illu¬
mined with spiritual fires, a breath passed across that
face and rendered it sublime ; he raised a hand, clenched
in fury, and uttered with a piercing cry the famous word
of Archimedes, " Eureka ! " — I have found.
He fell back upon his bed with the dull sound of an
inert bod}T, and died, uttering an awful moan,—his
convulsed eyes expressing to the last, when the doctor
closed them, the regret of not bequeathing to .Science
the secret of an Enigma whose veil was rent awajq —
too late ! — by the fleshless fingers of Death.
David Andreas. Is^xlehner, owner of the]
Hunyadi Janos, whose death took place recently, 1
was a man of limited education. After failing
in several undertakings he established a.
"national clothing-house" in Buda Pesth, in
which house-goods alone were sold. While he
was sitting in his office one day a peasant called
and complained that he could not get any fresh,
water on his farm. He had bored wells in a
number of places, but succeeded in getting only i
a peculiarly scented fluid, which he feared to use.
Saxlehner was interested. He asked the peasant
to bring him a sample bottle of the water, had it
analysed, and decided to purchase the estate.
He paid a thousand gulden per acre for the farm,
and established a factory as soon as possible.
The water became popular at once, and the red j
label upon the bottles a famous trade mark. Of
late years the sales reached four millions
annually, and Saxlehner died enormously rich.
Mr. Heath, in one of his charming books on trees, gives us the
following concerning the longevity of trees :
" Much speculation has been indulged in at various times as to the
length of time during which trees of particular kinds may live ; but
anything like an absolutely accurate estimate is obviously impossible.
Approximation to exact knowledge is all that can be obtained. Such
an approximation, however, is interesting, and here it is. The Cedar
has been known to live 2,000 years ; the Cypress, 800 ; the Elm, 300 ;
the Ivy, 335; the Larch, 576; the Lime, 1,100; the Maple, 516 ; the
Oak, 1,500; the Olive, 800; the Orange, 630; the Oriental Plane,
1,000; the Spruce, 1,200; the Walnut, 900; and the Yew, 3,200.
Many instances may, of course, be given of presumably greater ages,
but not, we think, upon any reliable evidence. The existing Cedars
of Lebanon, for instance, are supposed to be contemporaries of those
cut down by Solomon for the building of the Temple. This theory,
however, is not, and cannot be, put forward on absolutely tenable
grounds. But whatever facts might be proved, or, rather, however
forcible reasons for the suggested age of a tree may be in a particular
case, it may be regarded only as an exception to a rule. The figures
we have indicated will at least furnish an idea of the comparative
I longevity of different trees."
Of alf beautiful trees, the Laburnum, called so appropriately by the
Germans Goldenregen, is one of the most charming. It flowers once
i in the year, though in the town of Tuxford, in Nottinghamshire, there
is a Laburnum tree that flowers in early summer and again in the
autumn. But it is, we believe, not commonly known that the
Laburnum is a dangerous, though beautiful, tree, because it is a
poisonous one. The Cysissus laburnum is the scientific name for the
common Laburnum, and cytisin is the name of the poison which is con¬
tained in its leaves, seed-pods, roots, and bark. Husemann and Maine
first discovered in 1864 that it was poisonous. If the hundredth part
of a grain of this poison is injected under the skin of a cat or dog,
it would be enough to kill it at once. Many people have died from
this poison, and it is believed that ten seeds contain sufficient poison
to kill a child. _______—
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AuoniTUM.—As much public interest has been excited with
respect to aconite and aconite-poisoning, owing to the magis¬
terial investigation into what is popularly known as the
"Wimbledon Mystery," some information regarding aco-
nitum, the plant from which aconite is extracted, may be
useful at the present moment. Aconitum, then (according to
Dr. Masters, a writer in "The Treasury of Botany"), is a
genus of plants belonging to the order Ranunculacese, and is
botanically characterized by the calyx being not of a green
colour, but blue or yellow, of five pieces, the upper of which
is convex, and in form like a helmet. Within this are con¬
cealed two singularly-shaped petals, formerly considered to
be nectaries, the form of these bodies being somewhat like
that of a hammer. There are also three other petals, very
small and inconspicuous, though occasionally they also become
hammer-shaped, like the two upper ones. The stamens are
numerous, and the fruit consists of from three to five follicles.
The plants constituting this genus are found in Europe and
Northern Asia, and a few are natives of North America. One
species, Aconitum napellus, is said to fiave been found wild
in Britain, but this is open to grave doubts. All the plants of
this genus possess virulently poisonous properties, and the roots
of some of the Indian species produce the "Bikli poison" of
Nepaul, one of the most dangerous of poisons. The roots
of A. ferox (supposed to be a variety of A. napellus) are used
in the northern parts of India for poisoning the arrows with
which tigers are destroyed. A tiger shot from a bow in
Assam was found dead at only 6o yards from the spot, so
soon did the poison take effect. Several kinds are commonly
cultivated in gardens, especially A. napellus, the fleshy roots
of which have been occasionally used by mistake for horse¬
radish, and produced fatal results. This plant has a stem
about three feet in height, with dark-green, glossy leaves,
deeply divided in a palmate manner ; the flowers are placed
in erect clusters, and are of a dull blue colour. The roots,
or more properly the rootstocks, are of a tapering form, of a
dark-brown colour externally, and white internally; the
younger roots, which are placed on either side of the older
one, are of a lighter colour. The taste is bitter at first, but
after a time numbness and tingling of the lips and tongue are
perceived. The root has none of the acridity or pungency
that fresh horse-radish possesses. The two plants are so dis¬
similar that it would seem impossible so terrible a mistake
should be made ; but it has generally arisen from taking the
root of the aconite when the leaves and flowers, which are so
unmistakable, have died away. The rootstock of the horse¬
radish is much larger than that of the aconite, not of a taper¬
ing form, dirty yellow externally, and the top or crown
marked with transverse scars, indicating the position of the
old leaves ; its odour and taste are at first pungent and acrid.
The venom of the aconite appears to depend upon the pre¬
sence of an alkaloid called "aconitina," which is so extremely
poisonous that so small a dose as one-fiftieth part of a grain
has wellnigh produced fatal results. A tincture of aconite
root, or a solution of the alkaloid, is occasionally used with
much success as an application to relieve rheumatic pains, but
it should be employed with the greatest caution. Aconitum
Lycoctomum, or wolfsbane, is a common plant in the Alps of
Switzerland or Styria, but this species does not possess such
virulent properties as the others.
11
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Camphor is a stimulant, anti-spasmtiti«v-
diaphoretic, and possibly antiseptic. As a
stimulant it shows its effects more on the
nervous than vascular system, causing exhila¬
ration of spirits, whilst the pulse is only
rendered fuller, hut not harder or more fre¬
quent. When there is excessive irritation from
protracted excitement or abuse of stimulants,
camphor appears to have a soothing, sedative,
tranquilising action. As a general rule it is
more beneficial when there is debility of body
than when there is plethora or inflammatory
action, with locked-up secretions. The diseases
in which it is best given are the later stages of
typhoid fever, confluent small-pox, remittent
fever of hot climates, rheumatism, some forms
of mania, delirium tremens, an irritation of the
urinary passages, especially such as attends the
use of cantharides.
If camphor he given in too large doses it pro¬
duces dangerous symptoms, part of them such as
arise from irritant poisons. These symptoms
are nausea, vomiting, anxiety, faintness, vertigo,
delirium, insensibility, coma, convulsions, and
sometimes death. The remedies recommended
are copious demulcents, with a pretty free use
of opium.
Camphor is used with other medicines with
the intention of increasing or modifying their
action. It helps to prevent the unpleasant
headache consequent upon taking opiates. It
makes senna act more pleasantly, and some say
more powerfully. The modus operandi of cam¬
phor in increasing the power of other remedies
is not very clear. Some say it stimulates the
absorbents to take up more of the active
principle ; others that it relaxes the exhalants,
which allow more fluid to escape. It is said to
promote the absorption of mercury when rubbed
on the surface, and this is also referred to exci¬
tation of the absorbents. Externally used it is a
local anodyne dissolved in spirit or oil or com¬
bined with laudanum.
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The cui.'ona liabit QLiifikiug-4iUa^»--«wr an intoxi¬
cant is becoming dangerously, prevalent in the
north of Ireland. The resident physician of
Londonderry Lunatic Asylum states that quite
a number of cases of insanity have been produced
by the constant use of this drug. One whole¬
sale druggist in Dublin sends hundreds of
pounds worth north every year. On account of
its extreme volatility the intoxication it pro¬
duces is so transient that a person may get
gloriously drunk and become completely
sober again in a couple of hours. But the
reaction, though at first imperceptible, is
apparently cumulative in its results, and
ultimately leads to mental derangement. One
well-known gentleman, incredulous of its effects,
recently took a dram and got so drunk that he
broke a window in his ethereal exuberance of
spirits, and but for the kind offices of a friend
would have spent the night in a police station.
;el]
ni:
7
is,
.cs
utl
Pick Me Ups of
Great Men.—Buo¬
naparte took snuft
when he wished to
stimulate his intellect.
Lord Byron took gin
and water. Lord Ers-
kine took large doses
of opium. Hobbes
drank cold water.
Newton smoked.
Pope drank strong
coffee. Wedderburne
(the first Lord Ash-
burton) placed a blis¬
ter on his chest when
he had to make a
great speech.
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It would seem that Mr. Stanley has discovered
what has long been one of the most insoluble
mysteries of the Dark Continent. He has
informed the Geographical Society that the
poisoned arrows used by the natives he met at
Avisibba are prepared by dipping the tips into a
preparation made from a certain kind of dried
red ants or pismires, found in the forests near
the Nepoko. When the poison is dry and it
stale it loses its deadly properties. This state¬
ment quite agrees with my own experience of
poisoned arrows, for I remember that during
th6 visit of a tribe of African natives to this
country, some thirty-five years ago they disposed
of a considerable stock of so-called poisoned
arrows. Numerous experiments were made to
find out if the arrows brought by these Bosjes-
men, I think they were called, were really deadly
weapons; but in no case that I heard of
could any trace of any active poison be
found on the arrow tips. The fact was, irac25a
I suppose, that the poison they had been
originally dipped in had become even more stale ; he| §■§'o 1 q
and dry than that on the arrow with which Lieu- js 3 g-gg'S's
tenant Stairs was wounded at Avisibba. QTWV>>£.-2 s g® g g-g |-g
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D'ye See the Point? S|J g |-& . g||g
The latest electrical wonder is that if you run a
needle into your foot you can have it drawn out by aT1(i n2 "§ §3 a®. £ g sit '$ ^ £«
putting your leg near a dynamo. This, says one of ' j o;* §*■§ § W
the electrical journals, happened to a man in America 1
COlldg | a g,a cs ® g
after surgeons had sought in vain for the missing i
domestic implement. What about searching for a
needle in a haystack after this ? The old adage must
be considered dead, for all you have to do is to take
your haystack to the dynamo or the dynamO to the
haystack—it doesn't matter which—and the needle '
the needles ?
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How lucky they seem to be in the Transvaal!
Now that the gold boom is for the present played
out and the diamond fever is passing away
something else was wanted to stimulate industry
and speculation, and that something has been
found in the shape of a discovery of galena in the
mineral belt running east and west at the foot of
the Magalies Mountains. It is said in the City
that this deposit of sulphuret of lead—for that is
what galena is—has been traced for several miles,
and that much of it is pure, though in some parts
it is mixed with antimony.
" " '" '" *J- A- - -v. ■» ■"- ■-w 1 - —
The Alkaloids op Cod-liver Oil.—Drs.
Armand G-autier and L. Mourgues have dis¬
covered that cod-liver oil contains a certain
number of alkaloids, of which some are very-
active. They have analysed hoth hrown and
colourless cod-liver oil. The alkaloids have
been found in the latter, which is recognised as
being the most active. The bases, subjected to
fractional distillation in a hath of oil, separate
into two groups, almost equal in weight, of
volatile and fixed bases. The bases are as
follows : Morrhuine (a new basis), butylamine,
amylamine, hexylamine, hydrolutidine (a new
basis), aselline (a new basis). A small quantity
of lecithine and gaduinic acid also exists in cod-
liver oil; the latter is an azotic acid, very easily
crystallised ; it is powerful, and give3 crystallised
chloroplatinates.
VISIONS.
The brain is a very delicate and complex machine,
and, of course, is the more liable to get out of order
because of its delicacy and complexity. The musical
expert, however skilful, can produce only discord if
his instrument is out of order. So with the instru¬
ment of the mind. A disordered brain produces no
harmony, however learned, exalted, and good the
subject. The sad facts of insanity are familiar to all.
But there are also mental states, not usually regarded
as insane, when the mind certainly is not in its
normal condition.
For instance, one thinks he hears voices distinct
and familiar, and yet they proceed wholly from the
person's own brain. Another listens, charmed, to
sweetest music, without a suspicion of its internal
origin. Others, fully awake and in broad daylight
and in ordinary health, see or seem to see, without a
doubt of its reality—in their room, or advancing
towards the house—a friend who is really miles away,
or even in another world. Some, as soon as they
close their eyes, though awake, are tormented with
the most distinct appearance of hideous-looking men;
while others see the most lovely forms.
These visions may or may not be of frequent
occurrence. Some persons are able to recognise
their unreal character ; others cannot reason them¬
selves out of a conviction of their being veritable
flesh and blood.
The Medical Record, not long ago, gave an account
of nocturnal visions which for a long time disturbed
an aged lady over ninety years of age. She was
apparently in good health and was not in the habit
of using opium or alcohol. Every night a group of
gaily-dressed people would come to her sleeping-
room and remain till morning.
Some of them would sit and look at her, and the
young women, clad in light handsome dresses, and
with gay caps and bonnets, would talk in a low tone
and smile and hang wet flowers over her pictures or
doors, and try to pass from room to room.
They were not rude, but would not leave the
apartments when ordered to do so. The old lady
was not only annoyed by this violation of her
privacy, but also felt disturbed when she thought
how unwholesome it was to have so many persons
in her room at night.
The physician, believing the trouble to be due to
defective nourishment of the brain, administered to
her, a short time before retiring, an appropriate
remedy, which was followed by immediate improve¬
ment.
These visions doubtless occurred to her in dreams,
which occupied very brief periods ; but probably
the condition of her brain was similar to that of
those who see visions when awake, and all such
cases might be bfiaefltadtiy proper ueaimspt.
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Chemists have for a long time been en-
Leavouring to find a good artificial substitute
or quinine. They recently thought they aa°S®§~J®gg|Sfl
tad found it in antipyrine, or, to give it its H ■% ■§ ~ 'Z -3 *■% g,|
ull chemical title, dimethyloxyquinidine, a'" 0 ^ ® - — - ~
s ® ^ -5 s £ •" -a
>ne of the many products of coal tar; but fog® To'® -c,°®f.goc"S
low they find that another coal-tar product, js g ^>-2 * 1 " ^ ^ ^ c's
yith a still more forbidding name, serves §1 ° ® a °
™ T71— „l.° i XI ' __n •- 1« S.S -S m £-g
© O C? O
he purpose better. For short they call it ^
■ntifebrine. Coal tar now, therefore, gives s® |'S | | * 5 a ~ ~ l!
is, besides a good substitute for quinine, our '"J o ^ a £ | ® -n U °o .2 .®
aost brilliant dyes, our rarest scents, our most a ^ « 0 •" -J;^ b®"^
Lowerful disinfectants, our artificial sugar s ° > ° 8
saccharine), and many other things; and a r< S ^ a t! .S—dJ.SS^o
5—1; £ xi_ _ -ii 1 . <■ ato-t=®21S,g® ; S*'*'
Berlin professor the other day went so far as ^ _ _ ^ ,w
0 assure his class that from coal tar he Jj" fc ® -2 g £ £ -5 J .•§ ° J ° I
>elieved he could brew nearly as good a cup . f ~ Jj *• J? £ * Z- * "i ""-is -§
f tea as from tea leaves. But one should Sl 0 60 J Ja J -2 |® £
emember that the tea which will please the bJa a $ 'g £ - - "
verage German palate would be thought 0
veak and very insipid by an Englishman, "* "
nd, yet more so, by an English woman.
^ ® o & £2 _M ^ *"5 9^ 2
■ ^ L^ ^ n+3 c o 3
eJ a! O h
A scientist has discovered a curious regularity in
the geographical distribution of certain virtue and
, vices. Intemperance is found north of the forty-
, eighth parallel; amatory aberrations south of the
>foity-fifth; financial extravagance in large sea¬
ports; thrift in pastoral highland regions. Under
j this theory the cure of certain faults might be pro-
, duced by transportation of offenders_ from one
> climate to another.
<v o
c3
Thus Lindley brings us by the UpeS road to Strychnos, and another great valley
of diiath. _ Whera-Bhaihwo pause now in the catalogue of poisons that go as deep
as snake bites, and that come from trees that look as innocent as roses ? We are
now miles away from the artocarpads, and right into the maze cf the Apoeynads
or dog-banes, Here we meet with Tanghinia venenifera, of which Lindley says,
" the kernel of the fruit, although not larger than an almond, is sufficient to destroy
twenty people." But hark once more to the word of warning where the line is to be
drawn between fiction and fact, "It was used in Madagascar as an ordeal, but the
practice is now discontinued." Of course it was the " Ordeal Bean of Madagascar "
that has a place in history only second in importance to the Upas of Java.
But the subject expands, and we begin to suspect that we must draw the line
somewhere. It is the fateful strychnine chiefly that connects the apocynes with
the nettles, but it is quite enough lor present purposes. The apocynaceoe or dog¬
banes is as various an order as the Urticacse. In the last-named order we find the
mulberry and the upas; and amongst the dog-banes we find the carandus plum,
the cow-tree, and the dreadful fruit of the ordeal tree of Madgascar. From members
of this order are obtained caoutchouc-poison for arrows, and several useful medi¬
cines. From the Loganiace^e or strychnia family proper, which is really a section
of the dogbanes, is derived the nux vomica, the false angustura bark, and that
mysterious substance the ourali or woorali poison of South America, the first
proper account of which was given by the late Mr. Waterton in his never-to-be-
forgotten " Wanderings in South America." But no one needs to be told that a tree
yielding strychnia is a thing to be respected, and perhaps to be feared. And
knowing what we now know of the class of poisons this subject has compelled us
for a moment to give attention to, it would be wrong to sneer, as many have sneered,
at the description by Foersch of the external administration of the Upas poison as
a mode of punishment in Java. He professes to have been present at the execution
of thirteen concubines of the emperor, who had been convicted of grave impro¬
prieties. They were fastened to wooden posts, and their breasts were laid bare..
Having had the assistance of a priest to prepare them for death, the executioner
pierced each victim on the breast with a lancet poisoned with the gum of the
Upas. " In about five minutes after they were lanced, they were taken with a
tremor attended with a subsultm tendinum, after which they died in the greatest
agonies. In sixteen minutes, by my watch, all the criminals were no more.
Some hours after their death, I observed their bodies full of livid spots, their
faces swelled, the colour changed," &c., &c. This is as likely to be true as any
part of Foersch's narrative, which, after all, is true in the main, and has been
simply discredited as a whole because he mixed up the deadly valley, where carbonic
acid gas renders life impossible, with a deadly tree that grows in groves and hurts
no one that does not taste of its juices.
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<g 5 " "Wonder.—America is not really ftie possessor of the largest tree
p p although it is popularly supposed that some of the giants of the Yosemitk
o ^ Valley are the biggest in creation. It has long been known that in Tasmanil
= there are eucalypti measuring 200ft. from the ground to the first branch!
,_T . r .. _ a,a»~.,«.Ta»/l ?« I 5 an(i more than 350£t. in total height; and there is a tree near Hobart Town
What an amount Of satire may be conveyed, in t 0 ^Jie ^run]j of which is 86ft. in circumference. But what is now held to ba
an announcement which appears to be limited to I E actually the largest tree in the world was discovered five years ago in
_ KJf- ^^c/-rir>tiv#> c/pnarnnhv I In the newlv e Victoria. It is a well-proportioned specimen of the Eucalyptus amygdalind.
a bit of descript e g g p y. y £ ancj its top is nearer to thesky than the cross of St. Paul's Cathedral, for ij
discovered land of Giikika all the women dnnk (^ riseg no jess than 430ft. above the ground.
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in a pleasing doubt as to whether the informant
is serious or iust poking fun at us.
stones to have been full as big as turkey eggs, and a carter had his
L head broken through a stiff, country felt.
CoFi' —Tin* active prineqvkr, *jf-tea, coffee, and cocoa
are as to chemical composition almost, if not actually, iden¬
tical. Physiologists are now, I believe, unanimous in the con¬
clusion that tea and coffee and, a fortiori, cocoa and choco¬
late, are more than grateful solaces to the nervous system,
actually conducing to blood and strength. Curiously, too, in
support of these scientific deductions, is a testimony of Bruce,
the celebrated Abyssinian traveller, a man suspected of draw¬
ing the traveller's long-bow at the time when his travels were
written, but whose accounts of the strange things he saw in
Abyssinia have since been fully verified. Bruce narrates that
the Abyssinians, when starting on war excursions, and de¬
sirous of not overburdening themselves with commissariat
stores, were in the habit of ming'ing butter and powdered
coffee, rolling the compound into balls about the bigness of a
billiard-ball each, and living wholly for long continuous
periods on the compound. Consideration of the actual nu¬
tritive property of coffee is of importance in establishing the
dietary of gaols, union workhouses, and other institutions
supplied with a fixed dietary. In laying down the food regu¬
lation of these places, the rule has been acted upon of giving
all necessary food, but withdrawing all mere stimulants—in a
wider sense, all nervine solaces. Accordingly it will be found
—looking at the published dietaries of these places—that
gruel has been made to supplant tea and coffee almost ex¬
clusively. This would seem to be physiologically wrong,
as it is socially cruel. To the case of union inmates well
stricken in years the charge of cruelty with fullest force
applies. The quantity of tea and coffee with dry bread that
certain old people—more particularly old women—will con¬
sume and thrive upon, to the exclusion of meat, would sur¬
prise anybody who had not been witness ol it. There is good
warranty for affirming that the digestive organs get acclima¬
tized to particular foods and modes of living by practice, as
the whole human body does to regions. People long ac¬
customed to t-a and coffee cannot well do without those
more than solaces to existence. One word now about the
roasting of coffee. In England this operation is seldom con¬
ducted in private families, but is done by the coffee-roaster.
Still, if coffee be desired to have the highest flavour of which
it is susceptible, it should be roasted just before using. There
is no difficulty in the matter. A frying-pan answers quite
well; and in Germany—the Rhine provinces, at least—is
mostly used for the purpose. The raw coffee being put into
the pan with the least pat of butter, is set over the fire and
stirred till of a delicate brown.—Leisure Hour.
Meteorology (Winchmore Hill). — The ;to
barometer was invented in 1643. The word
literally means weight-measurer, since by its aid
we ascertain the weight and pressure of the
atmosphere. The invention of the thermometer lit^
shortly afterwards gave the means of determining ,
its temperature. The hygrometer shows the
amount of moisture in the air, and the anemometer to
gives the force and direction of the wind. These
words are all Greek compounds, and express ex¬
actly what we have assigned as their use, being
respectively the heat-measurer, the moisture-
measurew,
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STIMULANTS AND NARCOTICS.
The ladies of Paris to-day apparently possess
•what Macbeth desired tor his wife. He
detnanded'from her bewildered physician " some
sweet oblivious antidote " to cleanse away " the
perilous stuff which weighs upon the heart."
At that period opium in all its forms had not
been discovered as a poison to be used by
murderers, or in minute doses to deaden pain
and soothe agitated nerves. It has been
recently stated that morphine injected
under the skin is the fashionable drug of the
day. This is one of the most highly concen¬
trated forms in which opium can be given, and
is, of course, a deadly poison. It is communi¬
cated to the system by a little syringe which at
the point is about the size of a large needle, and
the operation is almost as trivial and painless as
the process of vaccination. After having seen
it done by a surgeon, sometimes without any
teaching, a lady can do it for herself, and thus
this most dangerous, because most seductive, of
all forms of narcotisation may become a secret
and deadly habit. All classes of Parisiennes
take it—" the fashionable lady, wearied by the
vigils of the hall-room; the actress, over¬
powered by the excitement of the footlights,
and others overwhelmed by drinking too deeply
of pleasure's cup." One writer in the French
press implores the doctors to interfere;
morphine, he says, is " daily murdering dozens
of Parisiennes, and the drugjis about to reappear
next season under the name ' exalgine.' " For,
while in comparatively large doses this powerful
poison is narcotic, it can be used, it seems, as a
kind of stimulant. If the patient resists sleep,
then the drug exalts and excites the whole
nervous system. The person who has taken it
feels able to say with Romeo : " My bosom's
lord sits lightly in his throne, And all this day
an accustomed spirit Lifts me above the ground
with cheerful thoughts." In fact, an exhilarat¬
ing form of intoxication is induced, and the
same result was recorded some years ago, when
the people of a village in the North of Ireland
adopted methylated ether as their customary
drink. They could laugh and boast and swagger
after it as if each had received that day some
joyful news. The exalting effects of morphine
also make it popular, while some of its votaries
enjoy it because it steeps their senses in
momentary forgetfulness. The same variety of
sensations accompanies opium-eating in India
and China. Used in small quantities, it is a
kind of stimulant, and does as little harm as an
occasional glass of wine, ale, or spirits, especially
if the drinker is strong, and takes plenty of out¬
door exercise. Like alcohol here, however, it is
most dangerous with persons of sedentary
habits, and in all cases when consumed to
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EXAMINATION.
By an Abmy Student.
O, Age of learning 1 deeply I deplore
The horrors thou hast brought
upon the nation;
And chiefly do brain-bothered
folks abhor
Examination 1
Euclid 1 I curse each parallelo¬
gram
Which once thou didst draw for
thy delectation,
Which now from mortals draws
the frequent D—
Examination I
A poisonous draught alone is left
for them
Whom grim professors curse with
condemnation;
E'en then they had to pass the
post-mortem
Examination I * —
OOtli April, 1751.—Richard though enters in his diary of this
G. — jm L„u.„L.»,)'f-ouinerseti, a man 30 years afflicted with an
asthma, dreamed that a person told him if he drank of such par¬
ticular waters, near the chain-gate, seven Sunday mornings, he should
be cured, which he accordingly did and was well. Five days after,
'twas computed 10,000 people were now at Glastonbury, from dif¬
ferent parts of the kingdom, to drink the waters there for various
distempers." Southey mentions the case of a young man, who,
witnessing the performance of Hamlet at the Drury Lane Tneatre,
was so frightened at sight of the ghost, that a humour broke out
upon him, which settled in the king's evil. After all medicines had
failed, the waters of Glastonbury <
HIP, HIP, HURRAH! FOR THE EAST WIND!
The East Wind, which we are wont to regard as a demon, has this year proved an
angel. All the magnificent weather of the past few weeks has been due to it.
—Daily Paper.
Thebe's nothing that
soothes and surprises
us so
As to meet with a friend
when expecting a
foe.
The wind from the East
we're accustomed to
chide
As a scourge which no
creature on earth can
abide.
"Avaunt!" we exclaim,
" thou vile wind from
the East,
Thou relentless tormentor
of man and of beast."
Yet the wind from the
East has shed balm
on the air,
Making summer delight¬
fully genial and fair,
Enabling the swains a
rich harvest to reap ;
And what I most prize—
making strawberries
cheap 1
In a word, bringing joy
when we hoped for it
least,
Therefore Hip, hip,
hurrah 1 for the wind
from the East 1
53 Naj
54 Wh
55 DeJ
56 Pen
57 Chaj
Lon
59 Spq
60 Asa
6x Boo
6a Plut
june 15.
People are prone to remark how much more
genial the English climate was a century or so ago.
Let them moralise over the following fact. On the
15th of June, 1791, a remarkable change in the
weather took place within a few days. The ther¬
mometer, which stood at 75 degs., fell to 25 degs.
The hills of Kent and Surrey were covered with
hoar-frost and whitened with snow; whilst in many
places there was ice the thickness of a shilling.
The first stone of New London Bridge was laid
June 15t-i825»i'ii■ 1, ■ ■
I vol. I.
lyrics.
1 and
i *•
ks3"
fedicL
vol 1,
rob a.
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Strode Circles invented by Professor Silvanus P. Thompson, D.Sc., B.A.
X^OLD this Diagram by the right-hand bottom corner and
give it a slight but rapid circular twisting motion, when
each circle will separately revolve on its own axis. The inner
cogged wheel will be seen to revolve in an opposite direction.
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P.otectf?'. against infringement and solely controlled by The Leadenhall Press, E.C.
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