Chapter XV

 

 

While the Doctor, the Chemist and the Physicist were conversing with Mirza, Laure and Sophie showed Nadir a letter they had received. As soon as Nadir perceived Fatima and Ormasis, he said to them with the greatest gaiety: “Come and read this.”

 

Selim and Osman

to

Laure and Sophie.

 

You are two charming friends. We are two slightly dazed friends, but that is not from loving you. The union of Nadir and Mirza seems to us to be unalterable. The happiness of that friend, founded on confidence, is an example that seduces us. His one desire is to create converts to the same cause, to enable them to be as happy, perhaps to determine it; but without your permission we shall refrain making him any proposition. However, Laure and Sophie repudiated... ‘Repudiated,’ that term was not made for them. No matter, common usage has consecrated it. It will only serve to tighten the knots of our society, and that of our attachment to Nadir. We shall come this evening to learn the decision of our fate. We shall await it with impatience.

 

“So that,” said Fatima, “was this morning’s mystery. I had presumed that it was either a joke or delicacy. My amiable friends, I forgive you with all my heart. Judge by the pleasure I have in embracing you how much I desire your happiness.”

“My dear Fatima,” they replied, “we are surely very happy here. What more can we desire?”

“Read, then,” Nadir put in. “Will Laure and Sophie count as trivial the satisfaction of making others happy? Yes, you will make others happy; however, in order that it will never be at the expense of your own felicity, I shall bind Selim and Osman with relevant promises. I will take charge of that.”

Mirza had run to embrace her friends, and, soon informed on the subject, took the most sincere part in it. Laure and Sophie were not discontented. In fact, the finest sentiments are always in accord with something physical, and the most elevated soul cannot isolate itself from the impulsions of Nature.

They sat down at table. The meal was delicate. It was heartily welcomed. The appetizing dishes usually received sincere eulogies.

“In truth,” said Grasacido, “I prefer a good cook to the most skillful chemist.”

“Ah,” said Ormasis, “that epigram against yourself does not convince us. Besides, the art of cuisine is itself founded on chemical principles. Pass me, I beg you, that ragout. For example, water and grease have no affinity to unite together, but by means of the intermediary of a mucilage such as flour, they have been mixed in such a way as to form this brown sauce, which is very good. You also know that the liaison of sauces is useful operation, if well done, because then the fats, being more divided, give the stomach less work to do. You also know that a quantity of spices in ragouts is dangerous, because the abundance of phlogiston they contain penetrates the pores of the sanguine vessels and tends to decompose the blood in rarefying it.”

“It appears,” Grasacido replied, “that the gentleman has knowledge of these subjects. For myself, I will tell you frankly that I have been seeking for a long time to imitate the sulfurs of our stomach. They are surely vegetal acids combined with phlogiston, but why do those sulfurs sometimes have the same odor that they have in base vitriolic acid? Why do they always make fluorine without the assistance of a concentrated alkali? Are there oils that…no, I won’t go on about the object of my research. I see, however, that there exists everywhere an acidum pingue14 that plays a major role in Nature, and presents its latus15 in an infinity of different ways.

At the mere mention of acidum pingue, Doctor Fixoventi immediately abandoned chewing the wing of a partridge, of which his stomach was about to absorb the fixed air,16 and looked at Grasacido disapprovingly. “In truth, sir, it’s singular that one should wish to mystify scientists with a substance as impalpable as it is incomprehensible, and whose effects one pretends to explain by the touching of sides. Yes, the latus, the sides, the flanks, of an acidum pingue, of a substance whose form we do not comprehend—that’s a joke, of course.”

“Eh?” Grasacido replied. “Is it not more singular, sir, to pretend that there are airs that become fixed, heavy, and yet impalpable, and that those same airs become volatile again with the same facility. These inexplicable metamorphoses, contrary to the laws of physics, are certainly more inconsequential than my theory.”

“That’s false,” the doctor retorted. “Nothing is more natural than fixed air, as I shall enable these gentleman to judge...”

He was about to go on, but he was interrupted by burst of laughter, of which the following was the object.

Nadir’s cook was a fat Negro, thick-lipped and pug-nosed—in brief, the most comical figure. Having heard it said that her cook must be a chemist, and seeing him pass by the door of the room at that moment, Mirza had called him in. The Negro’s great eagerness to obey his mistress had caused his foot to slip, and his head plunged into a dish of whipped cream that was being carried by another slave. Mirza, assured that he was not hurt, had greatly enjoyed seeing the performance.

“Gentlemen,” she said, “I wanted to introduce you to the adept who merited your eulogies, but I did not know that he was also devoted to fixed air, to the point of making a mask of it.”

Everyone laughed heartily, and also complimented the Negro on his useful talents. Mirza was not unaware that in every estate, imagination makes the happiness of human beings.

The slave, delighted to have served the amusement of his masters and to have been complimented, withdrew with joy in his heart.

Sophie was not eating however, having distractedly detached the seal from the suitors’ letter. She was amusing herself by rubbing the seal, to make it pick up little bits of paper.

“Yes, my dear Sophie,” Nadir said to her. “You and Laure have the virtue of that seal. Those little pieces of paper are Selim and Osman.”

“Oh, you’re wicked,” Sophie replied. “You’re taking your revenge for our silence, but we ask for your grace for today. Besides, we’re listening to these gentlemen with the greatest pleasure.”

The Doctor was about to present his proofs, but the ever-curious Mirza addressed the Physicist, and everyone listened in silence.

“Sir,” she said, “why does that wax seal, having been rubbed, attract little pieces of paper or other light bodies presented to it?”

“Madame, such is the property of all bodies whose surfaces are highly polished: glass, diamond and precious stones have the same effect, because friction acts universally.”

“Very good,” Mirza replied, “but why do the pieces of paper rise up to cling to be body that has been rubbed?”

“Madame, some of us have claimed that it is an ‘electric fluid’ that is in action, but as that new name has not provided any new explanation, and advertises similar effects by comparison, I therefore hold to the principle of attraction. It is by virtue of attraction, Madame, that these bodies come together.”

“But in sum, Sir, what is attraction?”

“Attraction, Madame is…is the virtue by which two bodies attract one another, which, when the attractive virtue ceases, gives way to the repulsive virtue.”

“But again, Sir, by virtue of what laws do these bodes have the attractive virtue?”

“But Madame, it is the occult qualities of Nature that...”

“I see,” Ormasis interrupted, pained by the Physicist’s embarrassment, “that the gentleman, too modest to develop his ideas, is contenting himself with the orthodox solution. But Sir, you have surely felt, as I have for a long time, that all these explanations are mere wordplay. You are doubtless aware that the atmosphere exerts a pressure in all directions on the bodies of Nature. Now, when one rubs a body vigorously, you can conceive that the air surrounding it is in large measure displaced by the movement. It is therefore at the moment when that air pressure is reestablished on the body that other small bodies are drawn to it. That reasoning is so simple, so natural, so much in conformity with true principles that it has surely not escaped your reflections.”

“It is true Sir,” the Physicist replied. “I have already had a few ideas in that regard, but this is a singular experiment, of which I have never been able to understand the principle. Ladies, would you have two small, very slender needles? Oh, here on this mantelpiece is a harpsichord strong; it is made of copper, but that doesn’t matter. I’ll cut off two ends about three lignes17 long—that’s sufficient. I set them to float in this glass of water. They’re about an inch apart. Look, please. The water is presently quite tranquil. Notice how those two little needles are gradually drawing closer together. See how they increase their speeds as they get closer, and suddenly come together with the greatest celerity. Let us begin again. You always see the same effects.”

He looked at Ormasis. “Well, sir,” he said, “there is a sensible attraction; how are we to explain it? We have not removed the air by movement, so it is not the reflux of the air that draws those two bodies toward one another.”

“Forgive me, Sir, you are too enlightened not to sense that two bodies only come together because they have more weight bringing them toward one another, and that weight increases as the resistance there is between them lessens. That is the explanation for the experiment.

“There is only a distance of one inch between your two needles, and a distance of more than two inches between your needles and the glass wall. The air that is between your two needles reverberating more, since it is in a narrower space, necessarily becomes lighter. There is thus less resistance in the interval, and your needles have a dominating weight toward one another because the weight of the lateral pressure of the external air becomes more considerable than that of the air between them. You therefore see, Sir, that I am content to apply the law of gravity here. I am not innovating any new principle. I believe you understand me.

“One moment, however—here is my proof. I place the two needles two inches apart instead of one. Now watch. Are not the same needles that came together before moving further apart, toward the walls of the glass? That is not because there is a repulsive virtue between them, since, if I move them to a distance of one inch, they come together again. You see that these effects depend entirely on the variety of relative weights.”

“I confess, Sir,” the Physicist replied, “that your idea is a consequence of our accepted principles; it seems quite simple to me. We have already seen, in observations on physics, the reflections of one of our compatriots concerning the magnetic virtue. He reasoned in much the same way as you with regard to the experiment I have just cited. He has even extended his reasoning so far as to explain the origin of putrefaction, and why salts preserve bodies therefrom.18 At first I thought that it was nothing but a series of theories, as we scientists do not like receiving new theories, I did not pay much attention to it at the time. I see today that reasoning in accordance with the laws of gravity are more essential than wordplay. I understand now what that observer told us about the scent of liquids in capillary tubes. In fact, the less atmospheric pressure there is on a fluid, the more the fluid will rise up. That’s quite natural. Now, in capillary tubes in which the air is greatly reverberated and rarefied, there must be less pressure than in a broad tube; in consequence, liquids must rise up further therein.”

“That’s exactly right,” Ormasis replied, “and to convince you further that the agitation of the air is a sensible verity, all bodies whose pores, without being too widely pen, are nevertheless open enough for the air to circulate within them, are in fact the bodies that conduct most heat. For example, sponges and all spongy objects are the least cold bodies. Sugar, which is also a substance filled with capillary tubes, when rested on your hand, does not occasion the coolness of other salts, in which there are no capillary interstices. Take this piece of bread; put the soft side on your face and you scarcely experience and coolness; put the crust there and. Because the crust contains fewer capillaries interfaces, you will feel more coolness. Finally, the more capillary interstices a fabric contains, the more it warms you. A carded cloth procures you more warmth than one that is not carded, even if it is heavier. The warmth therefore increases by virtue of the capillary interstices being augmented. These observations are quite simple, but no less convincing for that.”

“Upon my word, Sir,” the Physicist replied, “if I did not have the certainty of skepticism, I would accept your reasoning.”19

“What is this certainty, then?” exclaimed Mirza, swiftly.

“It is Madame,” the Physicist said, “being certain that I doubt everything.”

“Oh, Sir, I feel sorry for you; I believe that’s a sad state—a state of inertia.”

“No, Madame, it’s the wisest state one can adopt, and the least vulnerable to sarcasm.”

“Pardon me, Sir Physicist,” Ormasis put in, “but it’s a malady—a fashionable vapor—and you have too much common sense to be incurable. For example, do you doubt that you have had an excellent dinner?”

“No.”

“Do you doubt that these are four amiable ladies?”

“Certainly not.”

“Well, Sir, you see that there are truths that once cannot revoke into doubt.”

“Very good, Sir Philosopher; I confess that you’re convincing. I shall take pleasure in occupying myself with your principles. I see that by reflecting on the laws of gravity and different resistances, by reason of rarefactions of the air, that one can form a few certain reasonings with regard to tidal flux and reflux. I understand why, the closer objects are together, the greater is their tendency to approach one another.

“Now, I know that the Moon’s equator is at an angle to the equator of the Earth. I know that at the Earth’s equator, objects rise up more easily, by virtue of the centrifugal forces that diminish their gravity, and I can see that it is precisely at the point of the greatest proximity of the Earth to the Moon that the waters of the Ocean rise up. Sir Philosopher, you have suggested good ideas to me. I want to write a paper on tidal flux and reflux, which will concur entirely with the explanation that a great man20 has already given us, but I shall render his mechanism of attraction sensible without departing from his principles.”

“I exhort you to do so,” Ormasis replied. “I applaud your project in advance, and you will at least work to cure skeptics in that regard, whose state is absolutely desperate. But don’t forget, Sir Physicist, also to take into account the effects of light on all bodies.”

Very good, said the Chemist to himself. Light is his agent; for me, it’s acidum pingue that plays the central role in all these phenomena. I suspected as much.

Excellent, said Doctor Fixoventi, for his part. I’m sure that fixed air will one day explain the origin of attraction. We shall see what success their ideas have.