"THE APPARATUS."
"The flighty purpose never is o'ertook."
_Macbeth._
THE three girls lost no time in responding to this invitation; they
crossed the hall, passed through the door connecting it with the
Castle, and ascended a rugged, spiral stone staircase in the wake of
Mr. Sheridan, who preceded them at a swift pace,—carrying a light in
his hand. Halting on the first landing, he threw open a door, and said
to his niece,—
"This is my library. Here I think, calculate, and write. This room has
been the birth-place of many a glorious inspiration."
By the glimmer of one candle, Helen made out a large apartment that
seemed to contain nothing but books. They lined the walls, loaded the
tables, and covered the floor. Here and there they stood in untidy
stacks, as if cart-loads of volumes had been shot about the room at
random. The books were doubtless ancient, for a disagreeable odour of
fusty paper and mouldy leather, impregnated the atmosphere, and Helen
was glad to withdraw to the chill but less oppressive staircase, when
her uncle, with a dangerous wave of his composite, said,—
"Now let us ascend to the '_Locus in quo_'—in short, to the
laboratory."
When they reached their destination they found the same wild disorder
reigned there as they had just witnessed below. A forge and bellows, a
carpenter's bench and tools, a lathe, quantities of peculiar-looking
bottles,—presumably containing chemicals; a furnace, steel tools,
newspapers, lumps of coal, bits of whalebone, and the remains of Mr.
Sheridan's dinner on a tray were all mixed up together in extraordinary
confusion. In the middle of the room stood a large table, on which lay
a mysterious object, concealed by a red cover. It was something long,
something broad; but all further speculation was ended by Mr. Sheridan
delicately raising the cloth, and solemnly displaying what looked like
a pair of umbrellas blown inside out!
"I suppose you know nothing of aerostation?" he said gravely,
addressing his niece.
She shook her head; shameful to state, the very name was new to her.
"It is the art—as yet in its infancy—of travelling through the air;
an art that has ever baffled mankind. In me,"—pointing to his beard
with a long forefinger,—"you see the fortunate inventor of a pair
of wings, by means of which I hope shortly to make the first aerial
voyage—and fly to Dublin."
To an ordinary listener, this announcement would have seemed the mere
raving of a Bedlamite; but the three girls were profoundly impressed by
the inventor's voice, and presence, and enthusiastic belief in himself,
and they hung upon his words, with parted lips, and awe-struck eyes.
"It is quite true," he resumed, "that Borelli and Liebnitz, both
denied the possibility of any man's flying. But Bacon and Wilkin,
thought as _I_ do," he added with a nod that implied,—"and so much the
better for _them_!"
"Observe this," now tenderly holding up a wing. (It was of immense
length, and seemed surprisingly light and flexible.) "Here it is
annexed to the shoulders, by means of mechanical contrivances; these
springs, and a certain amount of muscular exertion, waft a human body
into the elements! _Once_ fairly afloat, a very slight effort, similar
to a bird's, will keep one going for hours! The first ascent is the
principal,—and indeed, I may say,—only difficulty. Fairly poised in
the air, the process is ludicrously simple. The main idea is, to attach
to one's person some mass, which, by being lighter than air, raises
itself, and the annexed incumbrance. But these details are rather
beyond your mental grasp. To be brief, this little contrivance of mine
blows into atoms all other modes of human locomotion—trains, steamers,
carriages, bicycles,—their fate is sealed. We shall all be as the
birds of the air in future. The boon to humanity will be incalculable;
and, believe me, the day predicted by good Bishop Wilkin is not far
distant, when every man who is going a journey, will call for his
_wings_, just as he now calls for his boots!"
"I hope you will make us each a pair, papa," said Katie, "whenever your
own are finished."
To this request her parent vouchsafed no notice, but continued to
expound with increased animation with one hand, as he held up a pinion
in the other.
"Roger Bacon, the greatest genius the world has seen since Archimedes,
was confident that it was possible to make instruments for flying, and
that a man with wings, sitting in the middle thereof and steering with
a rudder, may pass through the air. I quote from his _Opus Magnus_,
which he wrote in the form of a letter, to that enlightened prelate,
Pope Clement the Fourth!"
If anything had been needed to convince Helen and her cousins of the
practicability of the matter in question, the mention of Roger Bacon
was sufficient; and Mr. Sheridan, noting the expression of reverent
attention on their faces, was kindled to still greater enthusiasm.
"Bacon was a marvellous man! it is true that he indulged in chimerical
notions with regard to prolonging life, and placed some confidence in
astrology, yet the imputation on his character, of a leaning to magic
was totally unfounded. He studied languages, logic, and mathematics;
his information was exhaustive, his premises sound, as in the case in
point," waving his hand dramatically towards the table. "And now, my
children, I will attach these wings to my shoulders, in order that
you may be convinced of their extraordinary value, and of the amazing
dignity which they impart to the human body! Dido, light another
candle. No,—no assistance is required,—I can adjust them myself."
Helen and her cousins, looked on with breathless interest, whilst Mr.
Sheridan deftly arranged and strapped on the apparatus. Then he held
himself erect before them, and commenced to pace up and down a cleared
space at the end of the room, and as he paced to and fro, he continued
to expound as volubly as ever, on the importance of his prodigious
discovery.
If any cool-headed, matter-of-fact persons had happened to climb the
ivy, and look in through the shutterless window, and "discovered" the
room dimly lit by two candles (placed on the ground), the gray-robed
figure with trailing wings, lecturing with outstretched hands to a
group of eager-eyed girls,—they would have unhesitatingly declared,
that they were witnessing the exploits of the inmates of some private
lunatic asylum.
"My dear children," continued Malachi in an impressive tone, "in me you
see, the instrument of introducing a discovery that will be of untold
benefit to all mankind—wherever the wind blows, it will carry the name
of Malachi Sheridan. Of course aerostation is as yet in its infancy,"
tenderly stroking one of his pinions as he spoke, "but everything
must have a beginning. Look at railways; they had _their_ origin in
an ordinary domestic kettle, and behold they now cover the face of
the globe; this invention has to do with air, and like that element,
is—sublime! I have made an exhaustive study of air currents; there are
certain places where there is a continual brisk movement in various
directions! these will be the termini, the junctions of departure,
the same as Waterloo or Euston—but again let me not take you out of
your intellectual depth.—See how easily the apparatus works," he
exclaimed, pulling a small cord; and it became evident, that he could
extend or compress, his huge appendages at will. Now they towered above
his head—now they spread out—and now they collapsed, with marvellous
facility.
"Night is the only time, in which I can as yet venture abroad," he
said regretfully, "and there is something unsympathetic in the chill
atmosphere after dusk, that is discouraging to aerial attempts. Would
that I could go forth in full daylight, and spread out my pinions to
the sun!"
"If you came into the garden, when Andy was at his dinner, you might
manage it easily, papa.—We will keep guard at the gate," said Katie,
the ever practical.
"I'll—see—about it—yes, yes, it may be done! And you, Dido, my
daughter, shall now have your heart's desire. These will bring you
riches—money—money in millions. Do not deny, Dido, that money is your
idol; you worship money," he added, gazing at her austerely.
"I, papa!" she cried. "Oh, no!"
"Then why do you annoy me with your prayers and tears, craving money,
money, money? What is money? A few miserable pounds of yellow ore; and
they tell me that it makes a man happy! Miserable, miserable, wretch!"
he exclaimed with angry scorn.
"But, indeed, papa——"
"There, that is sufficient!" he shouted, with a fiery flash of his
black eyes.
"Niece Helen," turning to her, after a somewhat awkward interval, and
surveying her critically, "you will doubtless make a graceful aerial
figure. Let me assure you that a happy day is coming, when you may wing
your way back to tropical lands, and migrate at pleasure, like the
swallows, and the wild geese."
Here he paused, and flapped his pinions so successfully, that both
candles were instantly extinguished, and the company were left in outer
darkness. Dead silence ensued, which lasted about a minute.
"Dido, you know your way," said her father at length in his ordinary
tone, "never mind the lights, the matches are below.—Go; I will no
longer detain you, my children. I have some important details to
accomplish that will occupy me for hours. Go—good-night, good-night."
Thus imperiously dismissed by this voice from the gloom, the three
girls groped their way slowly, and carefully, downstairs, and finally
into the hall, where, sitting down on the first seats they could find,
they sat and stared at one another, in solemn silence. Of course Katie
was the first to speak.
"I wonder if this will come to anything?" she exclaimed. "It's very
wonderful,—but then the Padré always thinks of things that never occur
to other people!"
"It does seem to be a marvellous discovery," said Dido, in anything but
a triumphant key. Was it the light, or what, that made her face look
quite anxious and careworn? "Of course we won't mention what we have
seen to a soul! eh, Helen?" glancing nervously at her cousin.
Helen nodded her head in impressive assent, but made no audible answer.
Down among commonplace surroundings, and away from the spell of that
imposing winged figure, with its sonorous quotations from Bacon and
Wilkin—cold distrust came whispering into her ear. Could it be
possible that she had discerned the mysterious reason, that held Dido
to her duty? Could it be possible, that her uncle Malachi was _mad_?