Impressions of Africa (French Literature Series)

by Roussel, Raymond

  The mechanical arm, after several expert and rapid feints, suddenly straightened and landed a direct hit on Balbet, who despite his widely celebrated agility had not managed to parry this infallible and marvelous thrust.

  The artificial elbow had bent back, but the millstone kept turning, and soon a new deceptive evasion, completely different from the first, was followed by an abrupt jab that struck Balbet full in the chest.

  The assault continued, thrust following upon thrust. The quarte, the sixte, and the tierce, as well as the prime, the quinte, and the octave, mixing with “disengages,” “doubles,” and “cuts,” formed innumerable, unknown, and complex hits, each ending in an unexpected and lightning-quick thrust that always found its mark.

  His left foot glued to the line that prevented his escape, Balbet sought only to parry, attempting to ward off the opposing foil and divert it to the side before it could touch him. But the millstone-driven mechanism was so perfect, the unfamiliar thrusts contained such distracting ruses, that at the last second the fencer’s defensive maneuvers were regularly outwitted.

  Now and again, La Billaudière-Maisonnial, with several pulls and pushes of a long toothed rod, completely varied the arrangement of the wheels, thereby creating a new cycle of feints unknown even to himself.

  This process, capable of engendering an infinite number of fortuitous results, was not unlike the light taps that one applies to the tube of a kaleidoscope, which give rise, visually, to crystal mosaics with eternally new color combinations.

  Balbet finally conceded the contest and stripped off his protective gear, delighted by his defeat, which had afforded him the chance to appreciate a mechanical masterpiece.

  Lifting two short handles attached behind the bench he had just abandoned, La Billaudière-Maisonnial slowly departed, wheeling away his astonishing pedal device with great effort.

  After his departure, a black boy of twelve suddenly rushed forward with a mischievous grin, capering as he went.

  This was Rhejed, one of the emperor’s young sons.

  He held under his left arm a kind of red-furred rodent that swiveled its thin, pointed ears in every direction.

  In his right hand, the boy carried a light door painted white, which seemed to have been taken from a small armoire.

  Setting this thin partition on the ground, Rhejed gripped the visible handle of a crudely made stylus slid vertically into his red loincloth.

  Without missing a beat, he killed the rodent with a swift jab of the narrow blade, which sank into the furry neck and remained planted there.

  The child grabbed the hind paws of the still-warm cadaver and placed it above the door.

  Soon a sticky drool began flowing from its gaping mouth.

  This phenomenon seemed to have been anticipated by Rhejed, who after a moment turned the door over and held it at a slant slightly above the ground.

  The viscous flow, running down this second side of the partition, soon formed a circular layer of a certain width.

  Finally, once the animal source had run dry, Rhejed laid the rodent at the very center of the fresh pool. Then he lifted the door upright without worrying about the cadaver, which remained stuck in place, held fast by the strange glue.

  With a crisp movement, Rhejed loosened his loincloth and glued its end to the first side of the door, which was less coated than the second.

  The red cloth adhered easily to the slobbery varnish, which it covered completely.

  The door, again laid flat, hid part of his long wrap, leaving visible only the glued rodent.

  Rhejed, spinning on his axis to unravel his loincloth, took several steps away and froze in an expectant posture.

  For some time a peculiar odor, emanating from the flowing drool, had spread with remarkable pungency over Trophy Square.

  Without appearing the least surprised by the potency of these effluvia, Rhejed raised his eyes skyward as if awaiting the appearance of an invited guest.

  Several minutes passed in silence.

  Suddenly Rhejed let out a cry of triumph, pointing south to a huge bird of prey drifting high above and approaching rapidly.

  To the child’s intense joy, the shiny black-plumed fowl swooped down upon the door, planting two tall, thin claws next to the rodent.

  Above the hooked beak, its two quivering, nostril-like openings seemed to be endowed with a powerful sense of smell.

  The revelatory odor had no doubt spread all the way to the bird’s lair, and, first enticed and then guided by its keen olfactory organ, it had unfalteringly located the prey offered up to its voracity.

  At the first greedy jab of its beak into the cadaver, Rhejed emitted a piercing shriek, waving his arms in wide, fierce movements.

  Thus startled, the bird, unfolding its giant wings, again took flight.

  But its claws, caught in the tenacious glue, took the door as well, lifting it horizontally in the air and with it the red cloth fused to its lower side.

  Rhejed in turn left the ground, swinging at the end of his loincloth, much of which was still wrapped around his hips.

  Despite this burden, the robust raptor soared quickly, egged on by the boy’s shouts, his peals of laughter betraying his wild jubilation.

  At the moment of liftoff Talou had rushed toward his son, an expression of violent terror on his face.

  Arriving too late, the unhappy father could only follow with horrified eyes the swaying body of the mischievous boy, who flew ever higher without any fear of danger.

  A profound stupor petrified those present, who anxiously awaited the outcome of this terrible incident.

  Rhejed’s preparations, the way he’d ensured that the area around the inert rodent was heavily coated with glue, proved the premeditation behind this aerial excursion, of which no one had had an inkling.

  Meanwhile, the huge raptor, whose wingtips alone showed beyond the door, rose ever higher toward the upper reaches.

  Growing smaller by the second, Rhejed swung furiously at the end of his loincloth; this increased tenfold his chances for a lethal fall, already made so great by the tenuousness of the bond joining the door to the red cloth and the two hidden claws.

  Finally, no doubt tired by this unusual ballast, the bird began gliding closer to earth.

  The descent soon accelerated, and Talou, filled with hope, stretched out his arms as if to draw the child toward him.

  The nearly exhausted raptor plunged earthward with terrifying speed.

  A few yards from the ground, Rhejed, ripping his loincloth, fell gracefully to his feet, while the unburdened fowl fled toward the south, still hauling the door garnished with a scrap of red cloth.

  Too relieved to think about the scolding he deserved, Talou had rushed to his son, whom he hugged lengthily and in transports of joy.

  When the emotion had died down, the chemist Bex made his entrance, pushing an immense glass cage set on top of a mahogany platform furnished with four identical low wheels.

  The care lavished on the manufacture of the simple yet luxurious vehicle proved the value of its fragile cargo, which it fitted precisely.

  The rolling mechanism was perfectly smooth, thanks to thick tires lining the silent wheels, whose fine metal spokes seemed newly plated.

  From the back extended two elegantly curved copper handles, attached at their upper ends by a mahogany grip that Bex pushed with both hands.

  The whole thing looked like a more elegant version of those robust carts that ferry trunks and packages over train station platforms.

  Bex stopped in the middle of the square, leaving everyone time to examine the apparatus.

  The glass cage enclosed an immense musical instrument comprising brass horns, strings, circular bows, mechanical keyboards of every kind, and an extensive percussion section.

  Against the cage, at the front of the platform, a large space was reserved for two huge cylinders, one red and one white; these communicated with the atmosphere sealed inside the transparent walls through a metal tube.

/>   The fragile stem of an exceedingly tall thermometer, on which each degree was divided into tenths, rose from the cage, into which only its narrow reservoir dipped, filled with a sparkling purple liquid. No mounting held the thin diaphanous tube, placed a few centimeters from the edge that the two cylinders lightly touched.

  With all eyes fixed on the curious machine, Bex offered a series of precise, lucid, and informed explanations.

  We learned that the instrument before us would soon function thanks to an electric motor hidden in its sides.

  Also powered by electricity, the cylinders pursued their two contrary objectives: the red one contained an infinitely powerful heat source, while the white constantly produced an intense cold capable of liquefying any gas.

  It happened that the various components of the automated orchestra were made of bexium, a new metal that Bex had chemically endowed with phenomenal thermal sensitivity. Indeed, the entire musical apparatus was intended solely to highlight, in the most striking way possible, the properties of the strange substance that the able inventor had discovered.

  A block of bexium subjected to various temperatures changed volume in proportions that could be quantified from one to ten.

  The apparatus’s entire mechanism was based on this single fact.

  At the top of each cylinder, a smoothly turning knob regulated the opening of an inner spigot that communicated via the metal conduit with the glass cage; Bex could thus change the temperature of the interior atmosphere at will. As a result of these constant disturbances, the fragments of bexium, powerfully depressing certain springs, alternately activated or deactivated a given keyboard or group of pistons, which were moved at the correct moment by ordinary notched disks.

  Despite these fluctuations in temperature, the strings invariably remained in tune, thanks to a certain preparation Bex had created to render them especially stiff.

  The crystal used for the cage walls was at once marvelously thin and impenetrably resistant, and consequently the sound was scarcely muffled by this delicate, vibrating obstacle.

  His demonstration complete, Bex took his place in front of the vehicle, eyes fixed on the thermometric column and each hand poised respectively above the two cylinders.

  Turning the red knob first, he blasted a strong current of heat into the cage, then abruptly stopped the air jet when he saw the violet liquid reach the desired marking after a rapid climb.

  With a quick movement, as if repairing a venial oversight, he pressed on a mobile pedal, much like the running board of a carriage, that had been concealed between the two cylinders, and that, when extended, reached to the ground.

  Leaning his sole on this footrest with its supple spring, he activated the electric motor buried within the instrument, certain elements of which then set into motion.

  First a slow, tenderly plaintive cantilena rose, accompanied by calm, regular arpeggios.

  A wheel, resembling a miniature millstone, scraped like an endless bow against a long, cleanly resonant string stretched taut above a soundboard. On this string, automatically activated hammers fell like virtuoso’s fingers, then lifted slightly, producing every note in the scale without a single gap.

  By modifying its speed, the wheel produced a whole gamut of tonalities, and the resulting timbre sounded exactly like a violin melody.

  Standing next to one of the crystal walls was a harp, each of its strings held by a slender wooden hook that plucked it, then curved back to regain its initial position; the hooks were attached at right angles to the tops of movable stems, whose supple and delicate motions produced languorous arpeggios.

  As the chemist had predicted, the transparent envelope barely muffled the vibrations, whose penetrating resonance spread with charm and vigor.

  Not waiting for this song without words to finish, Bex stopped the motor by releasing the pedal. Then, turning the red knob, he raised the internal temperature still further, keeping an eye on the thermometer. After a few seconds, he closed the heat tap and again pressed the pedal beneath his foot.

  Immediately, a second wheel-bow, fatter than the first and rubbing a thicker string, gave off mellow and seductive cello sounds. At the same time, a mechanical keyboard, its keys dipping by themselves, began playing a rich, difficult accompaniment with perilously rapid passages.

  After this sampling of a double sonata, Bex performed a new maneuver, this time raising the purple liquid a mere tenth of a degree.

  The pseudo-violin joined the piano and cello to give the adagio the nuance of a classical trio.

  Soon an additional section, playing in similar fashion, transformed the slow, serious piece almost into a lively scherzo, while maintaining the same combination of instruments.

  Mechanically activating his pedal, Bex then turned the white knob, which lowered the violet column to around the zero mark midway up the glass tube.

  A bright fanfare obediently burst forth from a cluster of horns of varying circumference, crowded into a compact ensemble. The entire brass family was represented in this particular corner, from the weighty bass to the pert, strident cornet. Reaching different subdivisions in the portion of the thermometer located below the glass, the white knob, moved several times, successively provoked a military march, a cornet solo, a waltz, a polka, and blaring clarion calls.

  Suddenly, opening the cold tap full throttle, Bex rapidly obtained a frigid temperature drop, whose effects could be felt by the nearest spectators through the diaphanous partitions. All eyes turned to a gramophone with a large horn, which emitted a rich and powerful baritone voice. A huge box, perforated with air holes and placed beneath the device, apparently contained a series of records that caused the membrane to vibrate phonographically by means of a special wire; imperceptible fluctuations, carefully regulated by the chemist in the hyperborean atmosphere, offered us a host of recitativos and romances, sung by male or female voices in a wide range of timbres and registers. As a secondary function, the harp and keyboard took turns accompanying the sometimes lighthearted, sometimes tragic melodies in the seemingly inexhaustible repertoire.

  Wishing to underscore the astounding flexibility of his extraordinary metal, not a fragment of which could be seen, Bex spun the red knob and waited a few seconds.

  In no time the glacier changed into a furnace, and the thermometer shot up to its highest point. A group of flutes and fifes immediately punctuated a rousing march over sharp, regular drumbeats. Here again, different oscillations in temperature produced unexpected results. Several fife solos, discreetly supported by the brass fanfare, were followed by a graceful duet, based on the echo principle, that presented each scale twice in a row, performed first by a flute and then by a fluid soprano emanating from the phonograph.

  Swelling anew, the purple liquid rose to the top of the tube, which seemed ready to burst. Several people stood back, discomfited by the torrid heat from the nearby cage, in which three hunting horns, set near the harp, lustily blew a deafening call. Minuscule dips in temperature then provided a sampling of the primary cynegetic fanfares, the last of which was a spirited hallali.

  Having run through the main workings of his orchestra, Bex offered to take requests, and activate again any of the groups of instruments we’d already heard.

  One by one, each of us expressed a wish that the chemist instantly gratified, with nothing more than his knobs. Demonstrating a second time and in random order his many polyphonic combinations, he slightly altered the character of the works by coquettishly introducing imperceptible thermal differences.

  For his finale, Bex reached a special group of temperature markings, traced in red on the tube. Now practically every one of the instrument’s components worked in concert, executing a grand, majestic symphony into which joined a choir clearly nuanced by the gramophone. The percussion, composed of a bass drum with cymbals, the drum played earlier, and several additional bells of various pitches, enlivened the piece with its plain, steady rhythm. The orchestral repertoire was infinitely rich, as Bex presented
a panoply of dances, medleys, overtures, and variations, finishing with a furious gallopade that strained the bass drum to full capacity. He then lifted the pedal and again took his place at the rear of the vehicle, pushing it before him like a child’s wagon.

  As he turned to leave, everyone began talking excitedly about bexium and the marvelous results obtained with this astounding metal, whose stupefying qualities the instrument had just demonstrated so conclusively.

  Bex, who had briefly vanished behind the Stock Exchange, soon returned, holding upright in both hands what looked like a giant button stick,1 three feet wide and twice as high, made of a dull gray metal that suggested tarnished silver.

  A narrow longitudinal slit like a buttonhole opened in the middle of the giant slab, except that the circular opening which would allow the buttons through was placed midway up the slit and not at its end.

  With a glance, the chemist, keeping his distance, made sure he had our attention; he then designated ten large buttons aligned vertically one against the other near the bottom of the slit, naming the substance from which each was composed.

  The whole thing formed a shiny, multicolored line giving off the most varied reflections.

  At the top, the first button, of smooth, tawny gold, offered a sparkling surface. Below it, the second, of pure silver, barely stood out from the similarly colored background of the button stick. The third, made of copper, fourth, of platinum, fifth, of pewter, and sixth, of nickel, were all of the same size and without ornamentation. The next four were made of various precious stones, delicately attached; one was composed solely of diamonds, the other of rubies, the third of sapphires, and the last of gleaming emeralds.

  Bex spun the board around to show us its other side.

  At the bottom hung a piece of blue cloth to which all the buttons were sewn.

  Ten very thin strips of gray metal, attached to the fabric, lay one above the other along the slit, and were of exactly the same width. They occupied, on this side of the board, the places corresponding to each button, whose diameter was equal to their height. Ten lengths of metal thread, also gray, which anchored the precious disks solidly to the board, formed at the very center of each narrow rectangular strip a jumble of criss-crosses ending in a fat knot formed by the expert fingers of some able seamstress.