The Observatory
It was in the following spring that the lofty tower arose on the
promontory of the Isthmus of Dago. The building was quite unnoticed
except by the inhabitants of the island. The ordinary track of vessels
was then far distant from the spot.
At that time the island of Dago still belonged to Finland. Although
under Swedish rule, it formed a small republic standing by itself, in
whose internal affairs no one interfered. The governor of the island
had, of course, made inquiries regarding the inhabitants of the
tower, and had learnt that they were foreign seamen, whose vessel had
been wrecked in the neighbourhood. Their commander was reported to be
a most cultured gentleman, capable of conversing fluently in Latin as
well as in Dutch. He had purchased the whole of the waste promontory
from the authorities of the island with hard cash, and had then had
the stupendous edifice built by his own men and in accordance with his
own plans. When it was completed the whole company lived together in
the tower. How many of them there might be was never exactly known,
for they never showed themselves outside their fortress walls. But
what, it was often asked, could be the occupation of the men within?
That, however, was a mystery to the islanders.
But the mystery of mysteries was: What did the inmates eat?
For to build such a tower some fifty men at least must have been
necessary. Even had they succeeded in bringing all their provisions to
land from their stranded vessel, these must have been consumed in a
very short time. They had already been living there a whole year, and
had never once come forth from their rocky retreat to buy provisions
in the neighbouring village. They could certainly not have lived on
sea-spiders and mussels alone; and yet their rocks produced nothing
else.
It was evident, nevertheless, that they possessed abundance of money.
For, in summer, the old women of Dago (but never the young girls)
would carry great baskets of fruit and flowers to the locked door
which guarded the entrance to the courtyard of the tower. Some one
would then appear in response to their knocking, open a small window
in the door, receive the baskets of flowers, and hand out real money
in exchange for them. No; that was no spurious coin. At one time it
was a Russian imperial, at another an English sovereign, while
sometimes it was German thalers and Spanish dollars, intermixed with a
few Venetian zecchini, that were given in payment. But who within, it
was often wondered, could require flowers? And if they had money to
give in exchange for flowers, then why not for food also?
At length the spiritual overseer of the island, the Very Reverend
Jeremiah Waimoener, resolved to ascertain by personal inquiry what
manner of men really dwelt in that mysterious edifice. With this
object he one day made bold to call upon its self-imprisoned
proprietor.
He was at once admitted. Strange to say, although he came quite alone,
his eyes were not even bound--as he had fully convinced himself they
would be--before he was conducted to the Master's presence. He was
allowed to look all around and see everything. On returning home there
would be absolutely nothing to prevent him telling everybody that the
tower, with all its inner staircases, was built of massive stone, and
that it was divided internally into very many stories. On reaching the
twelfth story the reverend gentleman was received by the Master of the
tower. This portion of the building had the appearance of an
observatory, and was surmounted by a lofty dome. The room was
six-sided, and had three large windows looking towards the sea, the
three opposite walls being covered with wainscot. Everything in the
room indicated that it served as the study of a man of science. There
were astronomical instruments, musty books, and numerous chemical
tubes and retorts. In addition there were all kinds of superstitious
designs, alchemistic abracadabras and symbols, in which no man of
sense any longer believes.
The Master himself was a grave-looking personage, whose features never
betrayed the slightest emotion either while speaking or listening. He
requested his visitor to be seated beside him on a semicircular bench
which enclosed a sort of chemical furnace. The clergyman introduced
himself and, after hinting that he had heard of the Master's great
love for science, observed that he had long ardently wished to make
his acquaintance, as science was his own darling pursuit. They might
be able, he suggested, to exchange ideas to their mutual advantage.
The Master hereupon welcomed him warmly as a guest. Presently he
pressed a secret spring, and a bright fire suddenly blazed up in the
furnace before them. In a moment the Master had drawn forth from the
oven a supply of bread, meat and dried figs, just as if they had all
been freshly baked and prepared within. He then turned a tap in
another part of the same apparatus, and at once a stream of fresh
foaming beer flowed into a large tankard beneath. This he placed with
the other good things on the table before his guest.
The Reverend Herr Waimoener convinced himself by tasting that
everything was really what it appeared to be.
"But tell me, my good sir," he exclaimed in astonishment, "whence do
you procure all these provisions?"
"That is perfectly simple," replied the Master gravely. "Everything on
earth, as you know, is produced by the transformation of matter. The
alchemists of old used to puzzle their brains to discover how to make
stones into gold. But I have solved a much deeper problem than
that--how to make the rocks into bread, meat and fruit, and the waters
of the sea into sparkling wine and foaming beer."
"You are pleased to make sport of me, I see," said the clergyman with
a somewhat sickly smile.
"Quite the contrary, my friend," said the Master. "The proof is before
you. Beneath and around me, as you see, there is nothing but rocks and
water. As you know, I have not stirred from this spot for years, and
could not do so if I wished, for I have no vessel. Yet I live here
with some fifty companions, without asking a single thing from any one
on your island. Besides, what is there in my theory that is
incredible? Are not the constituents of bread, flesh and fruit already
present in the rocks, the air and the ocean? You are a scientific man
and, of course, know well that it is as I say. In truth, the only
secret in the business is how to hasten Nature's tardy process of
the transformation of matter. That is my discovery. Just look here for
a moment. In this vessel you see a black, sticky fluid. You may tell
it by its smell. It is tar. And here before us is a heated furnace.
Now, every chemist knows that by means of fire and sal-ammoniac he can
produce ice. I now place the vessel in the flue of the furnace--so. We
will take our watches in our hands and count the time. In
seventy-seven seconds the transformation will be complete. . . . Let
us open the aperture. Look at the dish now--and taste it too. It is a
pineapple ice."
[Illustration: "It is a pineapple ice"]
A shiver ran through the reverend gentleman's whole body at the mere
sight of the mysterious delicacy.
"Taste it! Never!" he cried in horror. "Such things are not to be done
without the help of the foul Fiend himself!"
"Without that, indeed, it were impossible," said the Master calmly.
"Everything of that nature is done only with the aid of the powers of
Darkness. But, my friend, have you any special objection to them?"
"Have I any objection to the powers of Darkness?" exclaimed the
horrified ecclesiastic.
"Ah! You have, I see. Well, well; that's a somewhat antiquated
notion--a relic of those times when the theory prevailed that the
earth was governed by God. But nowadays we have changed all that. It
is an absolute necessity for all species of life on this apple-skin of
an earthcrust to have the forces of Hell immediately beneath them. The
breath of Heaven chills and stiffens everything. It is the agents of
Satan that produce everything--trees, fruit, beast and man."
"But, my dear sir," expostulated the clergyman, "these are strange
geognostic theories! Notwithstanding your assertions, man, at least,
is in no wise the work of Satan."
"And why not?" demanded the Master. "Man is so fashioned that he must
freeze to death unless he murder some other brute that happens to
have a fur skin. To appease his hunger, also, he must slay some other
animal. And his thirst--does he not even thirst for the blood of his
fellow man--of his own brother? Could such a monster, think you, be
fashioned in any other region than the place of perdition itself?"
"But you forget the human virtues!" interrupted the ecclesiastic.
"There are many men, you will admit, who rule their whole lives by the
law of Heaven."
"Of all things that, surely, is the most opposed to Nature. Those laws
of which you speak have been made merely to torment the human race.
The virtues are simply so many revolts against Nature. That alone is
good which satisfies the body."
"And the soul, my dear sir! What of the immortal soul!" said the
minister solemnly.
"The soul!" echoed the Master contemptuously; "the most execrable
imposture with which the world has ever been befooled! For the body's
torment a tyrant was invented to chastise it by means of fasting and
renunciation, thus to reduce it to desperation. The soul, sir, is
simply a tyrant that forces its monstrous feelings on the body. And we
are to suffer thus merely because that tyrannous fiction comes from
above--from Heaven, and the body from beneath--from Hell! But how if
it were to occur to the body that it is really the master and the
other the slave, and the soul were to be trodden under foot?"
"Sir, your dogma seems to me perfectly frightful!" said Herr Waimoener
aghast.
"I prosper well enough under it, however. My whole confession of
faith, indeed, is contained in these words: 'That which is agreeable
to me is right; that which is hurtful to another is not wrong.'"
"Sir, do your companions all practise this religion also?"
"I preach them no other, and they appear quite content with it."
"Have you a family also?" asked the clergyman anxiously; "I sincerely
trust not."
"Oh yes," answered the Master lightly. "There dwell with me both a
female anthropopithecus and an undeveloped specimen of the _simia
anthropos_, _masculini generis_."
"And what religion, pray, do you teach your son?"
"The same that I have just enunciated."
The reverend gentleman raised his hands in righteous horror. Then,
after fervently murmuring the first lines of Luther's hymn, "A safe
stronghold our God is still!" he rose to go.
"Farewell, sir," said he. "Never again can I come here. When I reach
home I shall at once make a representation to our authorities to
compel you to build up your exit on the island side, so that you and
yours may never come forth to trouble and contaminate our people."
"Fear not, friend," said the Master, calmly and emphatically. "We
never shall go out to trouble you; but it will not be long ere you
come here to us. Listen! In this very year a famine will visit your
island. I have learnt as much already from those demons of mine. Ay,
and your people will come crawling on their knees to me who possess
the power to turn the rocks into bread, and they will sing 'Hallelujah
Satanas!' in chorus."
The clergyman pulled his gown over his ears in order to shut out such
blasphemy, and rushed precipitately down stairs and out at the lower
door. Never again had he the least inclination to pay a further
pastoral visit to the Satanic Apostle of Dago.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]