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    Works of Jules Verne - Volume I
    Works of Jules Verne - Volume I
    Works of Jules Verne - Volume I
    Ebook582 pages38 hours

    Works of Jules Verne - Volume I

    By Jules Verne

    3.5/5

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    This book contains the first volume of "The Works of Jules Verne". Jules Gabriel Verne (1828 - 1905) was a French novelist, poet, and playwright most famous for his epic adventure novels, and his significant influence on science fiction. This fabulous collection would make for an ideal addition to any bookshelf, and is not to be missed by fans and collectors of Verne's seminal work. The sections of this book include: "Jules Verne", "Introduction", "A Drama in the Air", "The Watch's Soul", "A winter in the Ice", "The Peal of the Lima", "The Mutineers", and "Five Weeks in a Balloon". Many vintage texts such as this are increasingly scarce and expensive, and it is with this in mind that we are republishing this volume now, in an affordable, high-quality, modern edition. It comes complete with a specially commissioned biography of the author.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRead Books Ltd.
    Release dateMay 6, 2015
    ISBN9781473394650
    Works of Jules Verne - Volume I
    Author

    Jules Verne

    Victor Marie Hugo (1802–1885) was a French poet, novelist, and dramatist of the Romantic movement and is considered one of the greatest French writers. Hugo’s best-known works are the novels Les Misérables, 1862, and The Hunchbak of Notre-Dame, 1831, both of which have had several adaptations for stage and screen.

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    Reviews for Works of Jules Verne - Volume I

    3.5/5

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    • 4/5
      20,000 Leagues Under the Sea is one of those classic science fiction books that should be on any science fiction fans reading list. Being around so long (Verne originally published the book in 1869), and available in so many versions, translations, and media, can make reviewing the book difficult. Most readers either have read the book, or will want to read it because it is one of the "classics" of the science fiction genre. That caveat being said, here's my review of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. The story opens with reports of strange sightings and damage to ships by an unknown creature. The narrator, Pierre Aronnax, is a professor of the natural sciences and a medical doctor from Paris. While returning from a trip to collect fossils and other specimens from Nebraska he is given a chance to hunt down this mysterious monster aboard the ship, Abraham Lincoln. Aronnax has previously hypothesized that the creature responsible for the encounters is a large form of narwhal. Joining Aronnax on the trip is his servant, Conseil, and a whaler and harpooner, Ned Land. The Abraham Lincoln eventually encounters the supposed monster, and the three men are thrown overboard when the creature rams the ship. They are miraculously rescued when they discover that it was not a creature at all, but a submersible boat. The rest of the novel covers the various adventures and settings that Aronnax and the others discover while being the "guests" of Captain Nemo, the builder of the famed Nautilus. As with most of Verne's works, the story is told in the form of a travelogue, with the story being recounted as if reading from a journal or interview with the narrator - Professor Aronnax. The stories of adventure - traveling under Suez, hunting in a kelp forest, seeking the South Pole and being trapped in ice, and the famous attack of the Nautilus by giant squid - are interspersed with more sedate discussions of the workings of the ship, or the Professor's enthrallment with Captain Nemo. That is quite interesting since Nemo has essentially captured the three men and refuses them to ever leave the Nautilus again. Verne's gift is to create a thrilling adventure and to expound upon the wonders of technology. His description of the Nautilus and its operation is decades ahead of its time. He even describes a practical, and nearly identical to the modern equivalent, SCUBA system for breathing underwater that was about 80 years ahead of its time. Verne does miss the mark with many of his speculations about the natural world. He didn't foresee the theory of plate tectonics, and his description of Antarctica misses the mark. (And I give him creative license to include the fabled Atlantis - it was an adventure story after all.) But that doesn't detract from the adventure story that he is telling.My biggest problem with the story is with the characters. Verne spends so much time recounting the travelogue of Aronnax that the characters are not fleshed out. The only one who seems real is Aronnax himself. His two companions, the forgettable Conseil and the stereotyped Ned Land (who's last name is entirely reflected in his constant desire to flee the Nautilus) are mere window dressings for Aronnax, somebody he can reflect his own ideas upon. But what is really annoying is that we get to know so very little about Captain Nemo himself. A suburb engineer, master of the sea, fearless and stoic in the face of danger, we learn so little about his character. There are many secrets about Nemo that Verne teases the reader with, but we are never shown the answers to them, such as his motivations, the reason he quit the land to forever roam the sea, or his past. That was a disappointment. If you are a fan of science fiction I recommend that you read Verne's classic at some point. Even among his own works I do not consider it to be his best, but it is worth the read to see the early works of the science fiction genre. If you want to listen to the work (like I did) I do highly recommend the version from Tantor Media narrated by Michael Prichard. I am familiar with Prichard's narration from other works and he again delivers a great performance here. (I checked out this version from my local library.)
    • 4/5
      I suppose that as an 'abridged just for you' version of a book, I shouldn't have had my expectations up so high. But I did, and while the overall novel was great, I really, really wanted more out of this book. Especially description-wise. It kept cutting out halfway or jumping from item to item so quickly I got minor whiplash. I am unsure if an unabridged version exists, but I hope it finds its way to me at some point.

      However, all that being said, I rather enjoyed the novel. It was fantastic, if a bit brief.
    • 4/5
      To be upfront, I thought there would be a lot more action in this story. I never read it in school, so coming at it as an adult was intriguing. That being said, I was not let down. Verne is very versed in sea life (this book is chock full of jargon) and as a science nerd, it was fascinating. And somehow, through all the science and tech, he was able to create a story that is often exhilarating.
    • 4/5
      This rating is a childhood rating. Hooked me on Science Fiction when I read it.
    • 4/5
      How to begin... there are some aspects of this book that were extremely fascinating and the adventure that Jules Verne writes is captivating. What I did not care for were the excessive uses of nautical terms as well as zoological/biological terms used to describe everything in the book. Perhaps it is just more evidence of the dumbing down of society as we no longer describe things in these fashions and makes it difficult for the reader of today to follow. Even with the author's fluent and graceful writing. The thing that most irritated me, was that all my life I've been led to think the Nautilus was attacked by a giant squid when that chapter in the book was described VERY differently! However, I guess I cannot fault the original story for how other interpretations have distorted it. Still, I can see why this book is so timeless and I encourage everyone to give it a read to enjoy the great adventure with mad Captain Nemo under the sea.
    • 4/5
      20,000 Leagues under the sea - Jules Verne ****Every now and then I get the urge to pick up a book that has become considered a classic, but all too often I find them far too stuffy and boring for my taste and grudgingly drag myself from cover to cover without any real enjoyment. Gulliver?s Travels bored me to tears, Robinson Crusoe cured my insomnia and Jane Eyre made me hide the razor blades? so I decided to try something a little more up to date and that had the potential for a decent adventure. 20,000 leagues seemed an obvious choice.There can?t be many people in the western world that aren?t familiar with the Jules Verne masterpiece that follows the Nautilus as it make its journey beneath the waves. Professor Aronnax and his assistant Conseil, accompanied by master harpooner Ned Land find themselves prisoners aboard the Nautilus, the mastermind of Captain Nemo, a man who has shunned living on land and now utilizes his enormous submarine and the oceans to sustain his crew. As they traverse the globe it becomes more and more apparent that Nemo is a tortured genius who is intent on vengeance for the death of his family and the small band of prisoners must decide whether to resign their lives to the wonders of the Nautilus or make a break for freedom. With danger from both Nemo?s unpredictability and the wonders of the deep it soon becomes a race against time.Many authors are called visionaries, and sometimes I think history has been a little too kind, but not in the case of Verne. The ideas he comes up with for underwater travel and the use of electricity still seem amazing now, and I can only imagine the response in 1870, and even though submarines were around then, none would have been able to undertake the voyage described. He takes the reader through the seven seas, from warm tropical waters, under Atlantic ice shelves to even mythical cities that have been lost to the waves. Obviously well researched the plant and animal life is described in immense detail and at times does come across a little bit like a school textbook, but I suppose you have to understand that the undersea world was really unknown to the majority of people at that time and this would most likely be their first introduction to it, so the more detail the better.My biggest issue came not with the novel itself, but rather selecting which one I should read. Obviously the original text was written in French and since then there have been several translations, with each differing in the language used to previous. I had never really thought about this before, and just assumed a translation would be the same regardless of who wrote it, after all a sentence in French should in theory have only one way of being translated into English. This is not the case, and although the story remains unaltered the prose is dependent upon whoever undertakes the translating and what slant they use. My other problem was finding a text that was unabridged, my version was around 300 pages long with fairly small print, but there are others that run over 500 pages. I couldn?t find anywhere on my copy that advised whether it was complete or not, but I feel it was probably abridged and therefore I lost some of the experience.All in all though, I really enjoyed the book, far more than I thought I would. I didn?t realize there was also a sequel written called ?The Mysterious Island?. I will definitely be looking that up in the near future.
    • 5/5
      I really enjoyed the descriptions
    • 3/5
      If you are interested in the state of ichthyology in the 1860's this is the book of you. Every new area visited starts with an extensive list of the flora & fauna of the ocean and as far as I can tell is the most scientifically accurate part of the book, the rest sadly does not hold up as well. This mostly feels like a research project hung over a very loose plot. There is little story or plot and no character development to be found. The central mystery of the who and why of Nemo is only resolved in the most superficial manner. While it is somewhat interesting to see what was state of the art in the mid 19 century this is a story crying out for an abridged version.
    • 3/5
      A classic that I had always meant to read . . .The first thing I learned was that I had always been in error in my expectations from the title. I had thought that the ship had descended 20,000 leagues under the ocean, but, of course, the submarine had merely undertaken a journey of 20,000 league while submerged. As a result, the speculative science basis for the book was much better grounded, and Verne gets many things right - along with a series of clangers.I had recently read Edgar Allan Poe, and found many similarities in their approach to early science fiction (to creating the genre of science fiction, really). A good read.Read March 2017
    • 5/5
      This book shows the true roots of science fiction. A story so fully of carefully researched facts about the various oceans of the world and the fish and plant life in them that you could almost believe that the nautilus and captain nemo did exist and the wonders they showed our narrator exsisted as well.
      Science fiction is about taking what we know and expanding it just that little bit more into the impossible. Or the one day maybe possible and then seeing what might happen.
      Quiet apart from that this is a story that brings home the massive change in attitude our society has had in regard to the environment and its study. Nemo himself is somewhat of a conservationist "this would be killing for the sake of killing" he tells Ned the harpooner. He kills willingly for food or in his search for revenge but will not be party to senseless destruction.
      We never learn what Nemo actually hopes to achieve or what happens to the nautilus in the end. In many ways I think this would have added to the believability of the story when it was first published.
    • 3/5
      In 1866, a mysterious sea-creature has been plaguing the shipping lanes of the oceans. Several ships have sighted and even been sunk by a long, unknown and unnamed threat. Professor Pierre Aronnax, a marine biologist, theorizes that the creature in question is a narwal of gigantic proportions, come from the depths of the ocean herself. He is invited aboard the Abraham Lincoln as the ship embarks on a quest to seek and destroy the creature before it can do more harm. However, the professor, his assistant Consiel and a whaler named Ned Land are surprised to discover that, upon being thrown from the ship during a battle with the 'creature' to discover that it is, in fact, a magnificent submarine. They are taken aboard by the creator and leader of the vessel, the enigmatic Captain Nemo, and there kept prisoner. Aronnax finds himself enthralled beneath the waves on this aquatic adventure, but he must take into account the feelings of his companions as the months roll by. Jules Verne is not for everyone. He is, by no means, a difficult read, but he is a thick read. Many of his works are heavily laden by his vast amounts of knowledge and research, and 20,000 Leagues is certainly no exception. Throughout the journey, we are given glimpses through the professor's eyes of the myriads of creatures and plants that he sees all over the world and he tends, as the narrator, to go on about these things for some paragraphs. I decided, not far in, that teachers should use this book as they have used Billy Joel's song 'We didn't start the fire' or whatever it is called, for years--make a list of the places, peoples and creatures listed throughout this novel and give it to the students for picking paper topics. I have a feeling it could be quite successful. Anywho. I really did find this book an enjoyable read, despite the scientific lulls. The Professor's excitement in the element combined with his intrigue at the mysterious figure Nemo makes him an excellent narrator. In his professorial role, he is continually observing and questioning and learning, providing details for the reader to clearly picture and absorb the actions and settings. Nemo himself is an enigma to the narrator and possibly even more so to the reader, as it is an interpretation of a man instead of a description of a man from an omnipotent or unbiased narrator...of course, there are those who would say there is no such thing as an unbiased narrator, but we shall not get into that here. It is a lonely argument when one-sided, as it would be. Nature of a blog post and all that. I am sorry that this is such a pathetic review, but I'm still not entirely sure how I should be writing these silly things, not to mention if I should be. Oh well. Off to play Scrabble.
    • 2/5
      Good story, but too much biological minutiae.
    • 4/5
      How to begin... there are some aspects of this book that were extremely fascinating and the adventure that Jules Verne writes is captivating. What I did not care for were the excessive uses of nautical terms as well as zoological/biological terms used to describe everything in the book. Perhaps it is just more evidence of the dumbing down of society as we no longer describe things in these fashions and makes it difficult for the reader of today to follow. Even with the author's fluent and graceful writing. The thing that most irritated me, was that all my life I've been led to think the Nautilus was attacked by a giant squid when that chapter in the book was described VERY differently! However, I guess I cannot fault the original story for how other interpretations have distorted it. Still, I can see why this book is so timeless and I encourage everyone to give it a read to enjoy the great adventure with mad Captain Nemo under the sea.
    • 3/5
      Good book !
    • 3/5
      a good read
    • 3/5
      Great book very long
    • 4/5
      20,000 Leagues Under the Sea is one of the most intriguing books I have ever read. Jules Verne predicts so many technologies that didn't exist in his time, but do exist today in some form. For example, in Verne's time there was no such thing as a deep sea submarine, but in this work of art, Verne depicts a submarine which is able to hold a crew under water for 48 hours, and it's impervious to the shells of the cannons of the 1800's. 20,000 Leagues has many surprising events in it. Humans are so oblivious to the hi-tech creation of one captain, Captain Nemo, that when the US Navy first see his submarine, they think it's a huge monster! Later on in the book, many mysteries are uncovered, such as the myth of Atlantis, Giant Squid, and many more.I wouldn't recommend this book to anyone who is looking for a book that is action-packed throughout the entire thing, but there is some action in it. If you're a reader who's looking for a book that makes you think about the mysteries around us, and has a few good action sequences, then definitely pick this book up.
    • 2/5
      I know it's a classic, but come on... How many descriptions of fish do we need?
    • 4/5
      As much an underwater travelogue as it is a sci fi/steampunk classic, Jules Verne takes us around the world, thru the depths of the ocean with the enigmatic Captain Nemo at the helm. Narrated by a Professor Arronax, a French naturalist accidentally swept into the world of Captain Nemo, 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea is thought to be an allusion to Homer's Odyssey- and I suppose it is- but it's theme of one man's defiance of humanity, especially after being disappointed and devastated by it, is a theme repeated time and again throughout ALL literature and entertainment.The story begins with the Professor joining a hunting expedition for a large underwater creature menacing the ships traversing the waters of the world. After a brush with the strange sea creature sweeps Professor Arronax, his companion Conseil ,and the brutish Canadian whaler, Ned Land, overboard their ship, they find themselves unexpectedly rescued not by the large narwhale they were chasing, but rather a man-made creature instead- Captain Nemo's underwater ship, the Nautilus.Unsure of their three new companions, Nemo keeps them imprisoned till he decides what to do with them, but when he finds at least one of the ragged men to be a man of thinking, he decides to let them have free roam of the ship- with a couple conditions: They must go back to their rooms when asked- with no questions asked by them- and they must never leave the Nautilus.Ned Land, a lover of freedom, is furious and Professor Arronax is worried as well, but quickly finds himself enraptured with the amazing sights to behold and the chance to be the first to catalog them!Soon months fly by with Ned getting more restless and approaching an inevitable crisis point, although just as caught up in the new adventures around them.Hunting in underwater "forests", amazing underwater creatures never seen before, underwater volcanoes, caves and hidden channels, along with natural terrors like hurricanes, icebergs, and a spot aptly named the navel of ocean- all of this to be borne until the Nautilus's fierce implacable captain reveals his heart of vengeance in an all out battle with another ship.When confronted with the true nature of Nemo, that archangel of hate as Professor Arronax calls him, the professor agrees it's time to leave and they make their plans only to be thwarted by a squid of colossal dimensions. But Nemo wrestles his ship free in his usual efficient manner and now it is only Nemo himself left to block their escape.Written in the late 1800's, 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea is a marvel. Verne imagined self sufficient underwater vessels, electric "bullets" (that's tazers to you and me) and all kinds of things that is norm to modern man, but to a man on the brink of the 20th Century only fantastical. He also surprised me with his outright admonitions of humanity for its over fishing/whaling and the dire consequences if left unchecked.Although I could have done with less of the eye-glazing cataloging and info dumping, when the action hits, it hits in a big way.Truly a man ahead of his time, Jules Verne deserves his unofficial title as the father of science fiction as he teaches, imagines, admonishes and entertains generation after generation- but isn't that what good sci fi is supposed to do?
    • 4/5
      This is the unabridged version. It was long ? very long! But what language, what grace of phrase! And finally, what drama! I imagine the abridged version leave out the lengthy descriptions of the underwater animals and plants, but I think it was worth reading. I admit that part is tedious. Perhaps my 4 stars are too generous for all I have agonized over the ichthyology, but the ending is so dramatic, it probably skews my rating to more positive.ETA: I just downgraded my star rating for the reasons stated above.
    • 5/5
      Review #16 - Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne (1870)Captain Nemo and his Nautilus ? a submarine so ahead of its time when you consider that this novel was written in 1870, is a story of such a grandeur, such wonder that the scientific progress and the explanations given by Prof. Aronnax, a naturalist and passenger on this journey seem so believable (and some quite accurate) that, in some moments you forget and believe that you are on the greatest voyage ever undertaken. Jules Verne was meticulous in his research and this is a marvellous adventure story. Alas I did not enjoy reading this on the Kindle for the illustrations alone and would recommend future readers to read this novel in a hardback that's profusely illustrated.Originally serialized from March 1869 through June 1870, the first edition was published by Pierre-Jules Hetzel in 1870 in French. English translation appeared in 1872. This edition by Penguin translated by David Coward.- IRONJAW?S BOOK REVIEW, Review #16. October 7, 2017
    • 3/5
      In 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Jules Verne's 1869 adventure story, a strange creature has appeared in the world's oceans. It looks like a whale, but it is much larger and faster than any whale yet known to science. When international hysteria over the mysterious creature reaches its height, the U.S. sends a warship out to find and destroy it. Professor Pierre Aronnax, a famous French naturalist, is invited to come along and observe. Also on board are Conseil, Aronnax's faithful manservant and classification expert, and Ned Land, an expert harpooner. When they finally do meet the creature, they are astonished to learn that it is not a creature of flesh and blood at all, but a manmade ship that sails under the water. A submarine! Aronnax, Conseil, and Ned are shipwrecked and taken aboard the Nautilus by its enigmatic and brilliant captain who calls himself Nemo (Latin for "no one"). Why has Nemo built this incredible submarine, and what has caused his intense hatred for the powers that reign on dry land? And ? more to the point ? will he ever let his prisoners go?20,000 Leagues Under the Sea begs comparison to Herman Melville's Moby-Dick, and Ray Bradbury's introduction to this edition explores each to illuminate the other (please note there are spoilers for both in this paragraph!). Bradbury says both Melville and Verne are "blasphemers" in their open questioning of God's dispensations. But while Melville is bleakly existential, Verne has a much more practical view of things. If Melville and Verne were building the Tower of Babel, Melville would write poetry about ascending the heavens while Verne would be busy trying to discover the best mixture for the bricks. Ahab goes down dramatically with the Whale to his death; Nemo builds a mechanical whale and plumbs the depths of the oceans to survive. Both stories end in a swirling vortex, but while Ahab's fate is certain, Captain Nemo's is left open.I have to admit I was a bit disappointed with this book. It is evident that Verne did a lot of research for it ? too much at times. In every ocean they visit, Monsieur Aronnax gives us detailed descriptions of the ocean life, telling us what each fish looks like (and whether it is good to eat). This is interesting some of the time, but as it went on and on, my eyes started glazing over. Often the characters ask questions that are obvious lead-ins to info dumps. This is fine to a point, but when it happens in every chapter it gets a bit old. I do see why Verne would go to such lengths (depths?) to describe everything minutely; his readers in 1869 would be thirsty for every word detailing the mysterious underwater realms of the ocean. Maybe it just doesn't work as well with modern readers who have already seen all kinds of underwater exploration footage and pictures. I do have to give Verne credit for thinking up halfway-plausible theories for how his submarine could operate (though several are not at all correct). Verne is a towering figure in the science fiction genre, and it's easy to see why. Despite the slow parts, there are some iconic moments here that I remember from the Great Illustrated Classics edition I read as a child... the shadowy underwater graveyard, the giant squid attack, and the pearl-oyster beds of Ceylon. Verne does not dwell overmuch on the philosophical aspects of the story, but their undertones are very much present, and they come out strongly when someone dies. Gradually we come to see that Nemo is just as much of a fanatic as the more demonstrative Ahab; he really means it when he says he hates the human societies on the dry land. In this book Nemo's nationality and the specific injustices he suffered remain a mystery, though I understand that these are explored in the sequel, The Mysterious Island.This book is thought provoking when read in our context of the modern environmentalist movement. In one place, it sounds like Nemo doesn't care about using nature responsibly; dugongs are becoming quite rare due to overhunting and yet Nemo allows Ned Land to harpoon one in a very offhand manner. But later, when Ned wants to kill some baleen whales, Nemo refuses to allow it because they would not use the meat; it would be for the sheer joy of killing, and those particular whales were already becoming rare. It is fascinating that Verne was so aware of the issues even then, and embodies these two opposing viewpoints through Ned Land and Captain Nemo. Neither, of course, can understand the other.And yet Nemo has no problem killing a group of sperm whales that were going to attack the more benign baleen whales. The carnage is quite graphic. Nemo justifies this by saying that the sperm whales are vicious killers that the world can easily spare. It seems that Nemo equates the vicious sperm whales with a particular nation/political movement, the one that destroyed his family. He sees himself as judgment meted out upon them.And randomly, I was also hugely amused at the brief mention of and explanation for global cooling (yes, you read that right). Interesting how we keep changing our mind on this topic. Maybe in the next century we will determine that the earth's temperature is remaining constant?I can understand why this is a classic, and I am impressed at the breadth of its ideas. Underwater ships, batteries powered by sodium, pressurized diving suits, guns that shoot electric bullets, incredibly inventive ocean cuisine ? all of man's creative forces focused on reaping life from the elements. Man is moving forward, conquering, exploring, classifying, and cataloguing every inch of the globe. But after all its underwater victories over the forces of nature, the Nautilus disappears in a raging whirlpool... or does it? If the Nautilus is a metaphor for scientific progress, there is an interesting parallel here; its implications are still too ambiguous to admit of a neat and tidy conclusion. Every reader will come away with a different perspective.Just a note: I do not recommend the Tantor Media audiobook of this story. I tried to listen to it and had to turn it off because the narrator's voice (which was fine in itself) kept spiking and distorting even at a normal conversational volume level, resulting in a grating fuzziness. This really surprised me because it was recorded in 2003, presumably with decent equipment (?). But it was too annoying to be borne. I have not listened to the audiobook done by Naxos; perhaps it is better.Overall, I would say this is a work I respect because of its landmark position as a classic of science and adventure fiction. But besides Captain Nemo, the characters aren't very compelling, and the long, frequent descriptions of ocean life impede the plot. It left me cold, and I don't think it is a book I will revisit.
    • 3/5
      An unexplained sea monster is sighted by a few nations; it even damages an ocean liner. So, an expedition sets forth to find the beast.Early on, it is suggested that the monster is, in fact, a giant narwhal. A joke, perhaps.Eventually, the expedition finds the monster, and they attack it. The three protagonists, who will be dealt with in a second, fall overboard. They soon find that the monster is not a monster, but a submarine. The protagonists are apprehended and brought aboard the submarine. And thus starts their journey, 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea.The captain of the Nautilus (the submarine) is a man by the name of Nemo. Now, here is an interest, and perhaps another joke.Nemo actually means ?no-man? or ?no-body.? And this turns out to be a great description of the captain. So, interestingly enough, this is a Verne joke. Nemo received his name because he is utterly bereft of character. He?s a nobody; a Nemo; a joke.They thought it was a giant narwhal, but it was, in fact, a nobody. That had to be discouraging, fighting a nobody.I have never read about a more characterless character in all my life! But wait! That?s not true. The other characters in this novel rival Nemo!Nemo?s whole crew is very enigmatic, strange, and bland. They are a great mystery; they are hardly seen throughout the book, which is good. More characterless characters would be too much; they?d end up sinking the sub from lack of brains and muscular coordination!Now we move on to the three protagonists. I beg your pardon if you find only subtle differences between them, but it?s really not my fault. Their names are the most unique things they own.The first is a French marine biologist. His name is Professor Pierre Aronnax. And that?s the most interesting thing about him.Next is the biologist?s helper, Conseil. Here is a portion about him:?he had good health, which defied all sickness, and solid muscles, but no nerves; good morals are understood. This boy was thirty years old, and his age to that of his master as fifteen to twenty. May I be excused for saying that I was forty years old?This tells a little more about the Conseil and Verne.Conseil had good health but no nerves. Maybe this was supposed to be a joke as well. Humans have a lot of nerves. In fact, to be in good health one would need nerves. Of course, Verne might be referring to the fact that Conseil can?t handle too much action or excitement. If that?s the case, we must take his word for it since we see no evidence of that fact throughout the novel.What we learn about Verne is that he has trouble telling the reader the ages of his characterless characters.The third protagonist is Ned Land, master harpoonist, or, as he is frequently called throughout the book, seemingly in a derisive manner, the Canadian. This is what the biologist has to say about the Canadian:Ah, brave Ned! I ask no more than to live a hundred years longer, that I may have more time to dwell the longer on your memory.Maybe a joke. Or, maybe characterless characters like dwelling on other characterless characters. In any case, I can?t see what there would be to dwell on for a second let alone a hundred years.
    • 4/5
      I read the abridged version with my 6-year-old son. What a great adventure--we both enjoyed it.
    • 3/5
      As a piece of proto science-fiction 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea was more or less what I expected. There is some adventure here, but mostly Verne uses the book to discuss his imagined designs of a submarine, diving suits, and other nautical equipment. Also explored is Verne's knowledge of ocean life and the wrecks that have happened therein, as well as his speculation as to the nature of the South Pole and Antarctica. Most of this (besides Antarctica) is quite accurate for the time, though this stopped being so impressive to me when I did some research and found out that much of the equipment Verne described actually existed in at least the prototype stage when Verne was writing this. There is a degree of Verne foreseeing the future of marine technology here, but it is a lesser degree than you might expect. Otherwise the narrative takes the form of a travelogue, hitting a large number of underwater adventure scenarios, but these segments were not overly engaging. Anyway, this might be a good read for you if you are interested in early science fiction or submarine life as conceived in the 1800s, but be prepared for lots of mechanical specifications, discussions of sea currents, and catalogues of fish and not so much in the way of actual excitement.
    • 4/5
      A crazy man guiding the ship who has given up on mankind and who refuses to stand on dry land. A coral cemetery. Passing through the Suez. Atlantis. An iceberg. The South Pole. Ice that almost traps the ship. A battle with poulps. A terrible storm. A ship with all her crew sunk. A maelstrom. These are just some of the adventures you will experience when you read this zany book. At times, you will feel like you are reading from an encyclopedia of the time and at times you may wonder whether Jules Verne just made up random creatures and random facts about the underwater world. But I think, in the end, you will be glad you made this voyage.
    • 3/5
      "At ten o'clock in the evening the sky was on fire. The atmosphere was streaked with vivid lightning. I could not bear the brightness of it; while the captain, looking at it, seemed to envy the spirit of the tempest."

      A disappointment, albeit one with some treats. The book is slow and wilfully digressive (all those fish), but in its characterisation of Captain Nemo it is superb: a man who would shut himself off from the world but is too angry to leave it alone; frustrated by the fact his anger does not mean more, using his grief to justify a position of moral arbiter despite his obvious crimes. 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea is a terrific character study entombed in an almost interminable record of imagined oceanography.

    • 2/5
      there is only so many report on fish you can take in a book. After a while every coral looks like the other. And lots of unanswered questions. Where did Capt Nemo come from. What about the strange language? What happened that he decided to hide in his submarine. Maybe for 1860, this was a great adventure book, but now it is simply dated.
    • 4/5
      Given this tale's reputation, I was expecting a rip-roaring adventure of man against nature, technology versus beast, maybe even a bit of pirate-style swashbuckling excitement. Instead, I got a travelogue - the diary of a scientist classifying life below the ocean. The famed squid that seems to figure so heavily in every retelling of 20,000 Leagues factors into a single chapter out of forty-seven. That being said, I still enjoyed it. I just wish it wasn't so horribly mis-sold (kinda like when someone accustomed to Boris Karloff and Halloween costumes reads the original Frankenstein for the first time. It's still great, it's just...not what you've been told to expect).
    • 5/5
      This book is so close to my heart. It's the second time I've read this book, but it's as bold and beautiful, as memorable and deep as I felt it was the first time I read it. Nonetheless, I am filled with so many emotions right now upon completion of this book that I'm nearly at a loss for what to say. This story is one of adventure, indomitable and evoking so many sights of creation in your mind's fantasy! Your imagination is constantly at a whirl with this book! Half the time while reading it I wanted to be sitting near a computer to look up the fantastic and intricate names of the species of life found in this underwater world I've never before known possessed so many wonders! And the other half of the time, I chose not to because I was in awe, imagining the colors and designs of these wondrous creatures so very few of us ever think about, and could ever know. It is no fish tale, but a tale of wonder that makes any reader marvel, no matter how scientific it may seem. Though I did not myself understand many of the classifications and "fancy" names that were mentioned, it was all secondary to the amazing world that you were able to travel through for the first time on this journey beneath the oceans.

      Yet while the greatest part of this tale is adventure and exploration of a world unknown, the other half is represented by its few, but remarkable main characters. Professor Aronnax, Conseil, Ned Land... and Captain Nemo, of the Nautilus. These first three characters create what you can fast see is a harmony between themselves that keeps the book flowing. Whenever one part may begin to get trying or dull, another one of the three comes in and will change the pace of the book, keeping it going. And while for some the classification and description of myriads of fish and plants may grow tiring, the infinite variety and pictures in my mind of these creatures are what make up a rainbow of realism and delight me in the more action-oriented parts of the tale. It is kept moving swiftly, and yet tells so many parts of a long story, that you are able to experience truly an entirely full realm of thoughts in a book so short for the many wonders it has certainly left out. After reading this, one can never look at the ocean the same way again, nor at the simplest of things that inhabit it. It brings a magnificence of life to something so taken for granted today by most of us, and the steady majesty with which it's presented gives one the sense that they have learned more than they ever could have before, once they come to the end of this seemingly "endless" tale.

      For it does come to an end. And I assure those of you who may seem weary or tired by the informative and scientific aspect of the book that there is a... an ending like none you've ever seen. An ending with so many questions wrapped up in them, so much emotion... that your heart will be either pushed to the brink or torn and bursting with the violent, writhing feelings that come up in the last few chapters. It's as though every wonder, every beauty we saw was all just leading up to this ever growing mystery of who this captain is, of what submerged a man like Nemo under the waves and brought him to a point of no return like none other. There is deep meaning and feeling in him that lies so turbulent and inexpressible underneath the surface. He is more than just mystery: he is the jewel polished by every wave and crevasse, every turbulent instance, every wonder.... He is a conglomeration so complex and fascinating that I cannot imagine any heart could stand unmoved by him and his story. For every greatness in him there are an infinite number of threads that lead down to his core that remains so very faintly unveiled for us throughout the story. And I must say, it is for him and to learn more and more about him that I read the novel half the time. For without Nemo, without his hidden and yet tangible self right there before us, we would never have gone to the places we did, either physically through the imagination, or emotionally through his unfolding story. He is a driving force unlike any other captured in a single character. It is no lie that countless people have been urged on solely for a love and fascination of this man. It is he who makes our adventures so vivid, and worth more than what they seem.

      No one who reads to the end of this book will be disappointed, except by a will to know more. To follow Captain Nemo down once more to the depths. Not to leave him. Or will you be glad to? *Smiles* That is the question you will know the answer to once you have ventured deep under the lands we know, far closer to life and peace than you ever imagined, into a marvel unlike you've ever experienced, all tied back to a single man, and his extraordinary life; his extraordinary story.

      For those with a love of adventure, for those who seek mystery in places unsought-for, this tale will fill you with so many things that you will be left forever the wiser and more experienced by the journey you take. For it is not the end, but the journey with this man that makes this book magnificent. It only reflects what admiration and wonder I have for everything else about this book. It is so silly... and yet, I will forever sit here and think of him, one of these greatest characters of all time. I will count the years and know that I have no chance of meeting him. But oh... Nemo. My heart goes out to you, in love and devotion. Find peace, good sir. You are worth it.

      This is worth it.

    Book preview

    Works of Jules Verne - Volume I - Jules Verne

    masterpiece.

    A Drama in the Air

    IN the month of September, 185—, I arrived at Frankfort-on-the-Main. My passage through the principal German cities had been brilliantly marked by balloon accents; but as yet no German had accompanied me in my car, and the fine experiments made at Paris by MM. Greene, Eugene Godard, and Poitevin had not tempted the grave Teutons to essay aerial voyages.

    But scarcely had the news of my approaching ascent spread through Frankfort, than three of the principal citizens begged the favor of being allowed to ascend with me. Two days afterwards we were to start from the Place de la Comédie. I began at once to get my balloon ready. It was of silk, prepared with gutta percha; and its volume, which was three thousand cubic yards, enabled it to ascend to the loftiest heights.

    The day of the ascent was that of the great September fair, which attracts so many people to Frankfort. Lighting gas, of perfect quality and great lifting power, had been furnished me, and about eleven o’clock the balloon was filled; but only three-quarters filled,—an indispensable precaution, for, as one rises, the atmosphere diminishes in density, and the fluid enclosed within the balloon, acquiring more elasticity, might burst its sides. My calculations told me exactly the quantity of gas necessary to carry up my companions and myself.

    We were to start at noon. The impatient crowd which pressed around the enclosed square, overflowing into the contiguous streets, and covering the houses from the ground-floor to the slated gables, presented a striking scene.

    I carried three hundred pounds of ballast in bags; the car, quite round, four feet in diameter, was comfortably arranged; the hempen cords which supported it stretched symmetrically over the upper hemisphere of the balloon; the compass was in place, the barometer suspended in the circle which united the supporting cords, and the anchor put in order. All was now ready for the ascent.

    Among those who pressed around the enclosure, I remarked a young man with a pale face and agitated features. The sight of him impressed me. He was an eager spectator of my ascents, whom I had already met in several German cities. With an uneasy air, he closely watched the curious machine, as it lay motionless a few feet above the ground; and he remained silent among those about him.

    Twelve o’clock came. The moment had arrived, but my traveling companions did not appear.

    I sent to their houses, and learnt that one had left for Hamburg, another for Vienna, and the third for London. Their courage had failed them at undertaking one of those excursions which, thanks to the improvement in aeronautics are free from all danger. As they formed, in some sort, a part of the programme of the day, the fear had seized them that they might be forced to execute it faithfully, and they had fled far from the scene at the instant when the balloon was being filled. Their heroism was evidently in inverse ratio to their speed—in decamping.

    The multitude, half deceived, showed not a little ill humor. I did not hesitate to ascend alone. In order to re-establish the equilibrium between the specific gravity of the balloon and the weight which had thus proved wanting, I replaced my companions by more sacks of sand, and got into the car. The twelve men who held the balloon by twelve cords, let these slip a little between their fingers, and the balloon rose several feet higher. There was not a breath of wind, and the atmosphere was so laden that it seemed to forbid the ascent.

    Is everything ready? I cried.

    The men put themselves in readiness. A last glance told me that I might go. Attention!

    There was a movement in the crowd, which seemed to be invading the enclosure.

    Let go!

    The balloon rose slowly, but I experienced a shock which threw me to the bottom of the car.

    When I got up, I found myself face to face with an unexpected fellow-voyager,—the pale young man.

    Monsieur, I salute you, said he, with utmost coolness.

    By what right——

    Am I here? By the right which the impossibility of your getting rid of me confers.

    I was amazed! His calmness put me out of countenance, and I had nothing to reply. I looked at the intruder but he took no notice of my astonishment.

    Does my weight disarrange your equilibrium, monsieur? he asked. You will permit me— and without waiting consent, he picked up two bags and threw them into space.

    Monsieur, said I, taking the only course now possible, you have come; very well, you will remain; but to me alone belongs the management of the balloon.

    Monsieur, said he, your urbanity is French all over: it comes from my own country. I morally press the hand you refuse me. Make all precautions, and act as seems best to you. I will wait till you have done——

    For what?

    To talk with you.

    The barometer had fallen to twenty-six inches. We were nearly six hundred yards above the city; but nothing betrayed the horizontal displacement of the balloon, for the mass of air in which it is enclosed goes forward with it. A sort of confused glow enveloped the objects spread out under us, and fortunately obscured their outline.

    I examined my companion afresh. He was a man of thirty years, simply clad. The sharpness of his features betrayed an indomitable energy, and he seemed very muscular. Indifferent to the astonishment he created, he remained motionless, trying in the meantime to distinguish the objects below us.

    Miserable mist! said he, after a few moments.

    I did not reply.

    You owe me a grudge? he went on. Bah! I could not pay for my journey, and it was necessary to take you by surprise.

    Nobody asks you to descend, monsieur!

    Eh, do you not know, then, that the same thing happened to the Counts of Laurencin and Dampierre, when they ascended at Lyons, on the 15th of January, 1784? A young merchant, named Fontaine, scaled the gallery, at the risk of capsizing the machine. He accomplished the journey, and nobody died of it!

    Once on the ground, we will have an explanation, replied I, piqued at the light tone in which he spoke.

    Bah! Do not let us think of our return.

    Do you think, then, I shall not hasten to descend?

    Descend! said he, in surprise. Descend? Let us begin by first ascending.

    And before I could prevent it, two more bags had been thrown out of the car, without even having been emptied.

    Monsieur! cried I, in a rage.

    I know your ability, replied the unknown quietly, and your fine ascents are famous. But if Experience is the sister of Practice, she is also a cousin of Theory, and I have studied the aerial art long. It has got into my head! he added sadly, falling into a silent reverie.

    The balloon, having risen some distance farther, now become stationary. The unknown consulted the barometer and said, Here we are, at eight hundred yards. Men are like insects. See! I think we should always contemplate them from this height, to judge correctly of their proportions. The Place de la Comédie is transformed into an immense ant-hill. Observe the crowd which is gathered on the quays; and the mountains also get smaller and smaller. We are over the Cathedral. The Main is only a line, cutting the city in two, and the bridge seems a thread thrown between the two banks of the river.

    The atmosphere became somewhat chilly.

    There is nothing I would not do for you, my host, said the unknown. If you are cold, I will take off my coat and lend it to you.

    Thanks, said I dryly.

    Bah! Necessity makes law. Give me your hand. I am your fellow-countryman; you will learn something in my company, and my conversation will indemnify you for the trouble I have given you.

    I sat down, without replying, at the opposite extremity of the car. The young man drew a voluminous manuscript from his coat. It was an essay on ballooning.

    I possess, said he, the most curious collection of engravings and caricatures extant concerning aerial manias. How people admired and scoffed at the same time at this precious discovery! We are happily no longer in the age in which Montgolfier tried to make artificial clouds with steam, or a gas having electrical properties, produced by the combustion of moist straw and chopped-up-wool.

    Do you wish to depreciate the talent of the inventors? I asked, for I had resolved to enter into the adventure. Was it not good to have proved by experience the possibility of rising in the air?

    Ah, monsieur, who denies the glory of the first aerial navigators? It required immense courage to rise by means of those frail envelopes which only contained heated air. But I ask you, has the aerial science made great progress since Blanchard’s ascensions, that is, since nearly a century ago? Look here, monsieur.

    The unknown took an engraving from his portfolio.

    Here, said he, is the first aerial voyage undertaken by Pilâtre des Rosiers and the Marquis d’Arlandes, four months after the discovery of balloons. Louis XVI. refused to consent to the venture, and two men who were condemned to death were the first to attempt the aerial ascent. Pilâtre des Rosiers became indignant at this injustice, and, by means of intrigues, obtained permission to make the experiment. The car, which renders the management easy, had not then been invented, and a circular gallery was placed around the lower and contracted part of the Montgolfier balloon. The two aeronauts must then remain motionless at each extremity of this gallery, for the moist straw which filled it forbade them all motion. A chafing-dish with fire was suspended below the orifice of the balloon; when the aeronauts wished to rise, they threw straw upon this brazier, at the risk of setting fire to the balloon, and the air, more heated, gave it fresh ascending power. The two bold travelers rose, on the 21st of November, 1783, from the Muette Gardens, which the dauphin had put at their disposal. The balloon went up majestically, passed over the Isle of Swans, crossed the Seine at the Conference barrier, and, drifting between the dome of the Invalids and the Military School, approached the Church of Saint Sulpice. Then the aeronauts added to the fire, crossed the Boulevard, and descended beyond the Enfer barrier. As it touched the soil, the balloon collapsed, and for a few moments buried Pilâtre des Rosiers under its folds.

    Unlucky augury, I said, interested in the story, which affected me nearly.

    An augury of the catastrophe which was later to cost this unfortunate man his life, replied the unknown sadly. Have you never experienced anything like it?

    Never.

    Bah! Misfortunes sometimes occur unforeshadowed! added my companion. He then remained silent.

    We were drifting southward, and Frankfort had already passed from beneath us.

    Perhaps we shall have a storm, said the young man.

    We shall descend before that, I replied.

    Better to ascend. We shall escape it more surely. And two more bags of sand were hurled into space.

    The balloon rose rapidly, and stopped at twelve hundred yards. I became colder; and yet the sun’s rays, falling upon the surface, expanded the gas within, and gave it a greater ascending force.

    Fear nothing, said the unknown. We have still three thousand five hundred fathoms of breathing air. Besides, do not trouble yourself about what I do.

    I would have risen, but a vigorous hand held me to my seat. Your name? I asked.

    My name? What matters it to you?

    I demand your name!

    My name is Erostratus or Empedocles, whichever you choose!

    This reply was far from reassuring. The unknown, besides, talked with such strange coolness that I anxiously asked myself whom I had to deal with.

    Monsieur, he continued, nothing original has been imagined since the physicist Charles. Four months after the discovery of balloons, this man had invented the valve which permits the gas to escape when the balloon is too full, or when you wish to descend; the car, which aids the management of the machine; the netting, which holds the envelope of the balloon, and divides the weight over its whole surface; the ballast, which enables you to ascend, and to choose the place of your landing; the india-rubber coating, which renders the tissue impermeable; the barometer, which shows the height attained. Lastly, Charles used hydrogen, which, fourteen times lighter than air, permits you to penetrate to the highest atmospheric regions, and does not expose you to the dangers of a combustion in the air. On the Ist of December, 1783, three hundred thousand spectators were crowded around the Tuilleries. Charles rose, and the soldiers presented arms to him. He traveled nine leagues in the air, conducting his balloon with an ability not surpassed by modern aeronauts. The king awarded him a pension of two thousand livres; for then they encouraged new inventions.

    The unknown now seemed to be under the influence of considerable agitation.

    See, there is Darmstadt, said he, leaning over the car. Do you perceive the château? Not very distinctly, eh? What would you have? The heat of the storm makes the outline of objects waver, and you must have a skilled eye to recognize localities.

    Are you certain it is Darmstadt? I asked

    I am sure of it. We are now six leagues from Frankfort.

    Then we must descend.

    Descend! You would not go down on the steeples, said the unknown, with a chuckle.

    No, but in the surburbs of the city.

    Well, let us avoid the steeples!

    So speaking, my companion seized some bags of ballast. I hastened to prevent him; but he overthrew me with one hand, and the unballasted balloon ascended to two thousand yards.

    Rest easy, said he, and do not forget that Brioschi, Biot, Gay-Lussac, Bixio, and Barral ascended to still greater heights to make their scientific expçriments.

    Monsieur, we must descend, I resumed, trying to persuade him by gentleness. The storm is gathering around us. It would be more prudent——

    Bah! We will mount higher than the storm, and then we shall no longer fear it! cried my companion. What is nobler than to overlook the clouds which oppress the earth? Is it not an honor thus to navigate on aerial billows? The greatest men have traveled as we are doing. The Marchioness and Countees de Montalembert, the Countess of Podenas, Mademoiselle la Garde, the Marquis de Moncalembert, rose from the Faubourg Saint-Antoine for these unknown regions, and the Duke de Chartres exhibited much skill and presence of mind in his ascent on the 15th of July, 174. At Lyons, the Counts of Laurencin and Dampierre; at Nantes, M. de Luynes; at Bordeaux, D’Arbelet des Granges; in Italy, the Chevalier Andreani; in our own time, the Duke of Brunswick,—have all left traces of their glory in the air. To equal these great personages, we must penetrate still higher than they into the celestial depths! To approach the infinite is to comprehend it!

    The rarefaction of the air was fast expanding the hydrogen in the balloon, and I saw its lower part, purposely left empty, swell out, so that it was absolutely necessary to open the valve; but my companion did not seem to intend that I should manage the balloon as I wished. I then resolved to pull the valve-cord secretly, as he was excitedly talking; for I feared to guess with whom I had to deal. It would have been too horrible! It was nearly a quarter before one. We had been gone forty minutes from Frankfort; heavy clouds were coming against the wind from the south, and seemed about to burst upon us.

    Have you lost all hope of succeeding in your project? I asked with anxious interest.

    All hope! exclaimed the unknown in a low voice. Wounded by slights and caricatures, these asses’ kicks have finished me! It is the eternal punishment reserved for innovators! Look at these caricatures of all periods, of which my portfolio is full.

    While my companion was fumbling with his papers, I had seized the valve-cord without his perceiving it. I feared, however, that he might hear the hissing noise, like a water-course, which the gas makes in escaping.

    How many jokes were made about the Abbé Miolan! said he.He was to go up with Janninet and Bredin. During the filling their ballon caught fire, and the ignorant populace tore it in pieces! Then this caricature of ‘curious animals’ appeared, giving each of them a punning nickname."

    I pulled the valve-cord, and the barometer began to ascend. It was time. Some far-off rumblings were heard in the south.

    Here is another engraving, resumed the unknown, not suspecting what I was doing. It is an imemnse balloon carrying a ship, strong castles, houses, and so on. The caricaturists did not suspect that their follies would one day become truths. It is complete, this large vessel. On the left is its helm, with the pilot’s box; at the prow are pleasure-houses, an immense organ, and a cannon to call the attention of the inhabitants of the earth or the moon; above the poop there are the observatory and the balloon longboat; in the equatorial circle, the army barrack; on the left, the funnel; then the upper galleries for promenading, sails, pinions; below, the cafés and general storehouse. Observe this pompous announcement: ‘Invented for the happiness of the human race, this globe will depart at once for the ports of the Levant, and on its return the programme of its voyages to the two poles and the extreme west will be announced. No one need furnish himself with anything; everything is foreseen, and all will prosper. Thus pleasure will be the soul of the aerial company.’ All this provoked laughter; but before long, if I am not cut off, they will see it all realized.

    We were visibly descending. He did not perceive it!

    This kind of’ game at balloons,’ he resumed, spreading out before me some of the engravings of his valuable collection, this game contains the entire history of the aerostatic art. It is used by elevated minds, and displayed with dice and counters, with whatever stakes you like, to be paid or received according to where the player arrives.

    Why, said I, you seem to have studied the science of aerostation profoundly.

    Yes, monsieur, yes! From Phaeton, Icarus, Architas, I have searched for, examined, learnt everything. I could render immense services to the world in this art, if God granted me life. But that will not be!

    Why?

    Because my name is Empedocles, or Erostratus.

    Meanwhile, the balloon was happily approaching the earth; but when one is falling, the danger is as great at a hundred feet as at five thousand.

    Do you recall the battle of Fleurus? resumed my companion, whose face became more and more animated. It was at that battle that Contello, by order of the Government, organized a company of ballonists. At the siege of Manbenge General Jourdan derived so much service from this new method of observation that Contello ascended twice a day with the general himself. The communications between the aeronaut and his agents who held the balloon were made by means of small white, red, and yellow flags. Often the gun and cannon shot were directed upon the balloon when he ascended, but without result. Where General Jourdan was perparing to invest Charleroi, Contello went in the vicinity, ascended from the plain of Jumet, and continued his observations for seven or eight hours with General Morlot, and this no doubt aided in giving us the victory of Fleurus. General Jourdan publicly acknowledged the help which the aeronautical observations had afforded him. Well, despite the services rendered on that occasion and during the Belgian campaign, the year which had seen the beginning of the military career of balloons saw also its end. The school of Meudon, founded by the Government, was closed by Buonaparte on his return from Egypt. And now, what can you expect from the new-born infant? as Franklin said. The infant was born alive; it should not be stifled!

    The unknown bowed his head in his hands for some moments; then rousing himself, he said, Despite my prohibition, monsieur, you have opened the valve.

    I dropped the cord.

    Happily, he resumed, we have still three hundred pounds of ballast.

    What is your purpose? said I.

    Have you ever crossed the seas? he asked.

    I turned pale.

    It is unfortunate, he went on, that we are being driven towards the Adriatic. That is only a stream; but higher up we may find other currents.

    And, without taking any notice of me, he threw over several bags of sand; then, in a menacing voice, he said, I let you open the valve because the expanding gas threatened to burst the balloon; but do not do it again!

    Then he went on, "You remember the voyage of Blanchard and Jeffries from Dover to Calais? It was magnificent! On the 7th of January, 1785, there being a north-west wind, their balloon was inflated with gas on the Dover coast. A mistake of equilibrium, just as they were ascending, forced them to throw out their ballast so that they might not go down again, and they only kept thirty pounds. It was too little; for, as the wind did not freshen, they only advanced very solwly towards the French coast. Besides, the permeability of the tissue served to reduce the inflation little by little, and in an hour and a half the aeronauts perceived that they were descending.

    " ‘What shall we do?’ said Jeffries.

    " ‘We are only one quarter of the way over,’ replied Blanchard, ‘and very low down. On rising, we shall perhaps meet more favorable winds.’

    " ‘Let us throw out the rest of the sand.’

    "The balloon acquired some ascending force, but it soon began to descend again. Towards the middle of the transit the aeronauts threw over their books and tools. A quarter of an hour after, Blanchard said to Jeffries, ‘The barometer?’

    " ‘It is going up! We are lost, and yet there is the French coast.’

    "A loud noise was heard.

    " ‘Has the balloon burst?’ asked Jeffries.

    " ‘No. The loss of the gas has reduced the inflation of the lower part of the balloon. But we are still descending. We are lost! Out with everything useless!’

    "Provisions, oars, and rudder were thrown into the sea. The aeronauts were only one hundred yards high.

    ‘We are going up agin, said the doctor.

    " ‘No. It is the spurt caused by the diminution of the weight, and not a ship in sight, not a bark on the horizon! To the sea with our clothing!’

    "The unfortunates stripped themselves, but the balloon continued to descend.

    " ‘Blanchard,’ said Jeffries, ‘you should have made this voyage alone; you consented to take me; I will sacrifice myself! I shall drop into the water, and the balloon, relieved of my weight, will mount again.’

    " ‘No, no! It is frightful!’

    "The balloon became less and less inflated, and as it doubled up its concavity pressed the gas against the sides, and hastened its downward course.

    " ‘Adieu,’ said the doctor ‘God preserve you!’

    "He was about to throw himself over, when Blanchard held him back.

    " ‘There is one more chance,’ said he. ‘We can cut the cords which hold the car, and cling to the net! Perhaps the balloon will rise. Let us hold ourselves ready. But—the barometer is going down! The wind is freshening! We are saved!’

    The aeronauts perceived Calais. Their joy was delirious. A few moments more, and they had fallen in the forest of Guines. I do not doubt, added the unknown, that, under similar circumstances, you would have followed Doctor Jeffries’ example!

    The clouds rolled in glittering masses beneath us. The balloon threw large shadows on them, and was surrounded as by an aureola. The thunder rumbled below the car. All this was terrifying. Let us descend! I cried.

    Descend, when the sun is up there, waiting for us? Out with more bags!

    And more than fifty pounds of ballast were cast over.

    At a height of three thousand five hundred yards we remained stationary. The unknown talked unceasingly. I was in a state of complete prostration, while he seemed to be in his element. With a good wind, we shall go far, he cried. In the Antilles there are currents of air which have a speed of a hundred leagues an hour. When Napoleon was crowned, Garnerin sent up a balloon with colored lamps, at eleven o’clock at night. The wind was blowing north-north-west. The next morning, at daybreak, the inhabitants of Rome greeted its passage over the dome of St Peter’s. We shall go farther and higher!

    I scarcely heard him. Everything whirled around me. An opening appeared in the clouds.

    See that city, said the unknown. It is Spires!

    I leaned over the car and perceived a small blackish mass. It was Spires. The Rhine, which is so large, seemed an unrolled ribbon. The sky was a deep blue over our heads. The birds had long abandoned us, for in that rarefied air they could not have flown. We were alone in space, and I in the presence of this unknown!

    It is useless for you to know whither I am leading you, he said, as he threw the compass among the clouds. Ah! a fall is a grand thing! You know that but few victims of ballooning are to be reckoned, from Pilâtre des Rosiers to Lieutenant Gale, and that the accidents have always been the result of imprudence Pilâtre des Rosiers set out with Romain of Boulogne, on the 13th of June, 1785. To his gas balloon he had affixed a Montgolfier apparatus of hot air, so as to dispense, no doubt, with the necessity of losing gas or throwing out ballast. It was putting a torch under a powder-barrel. When they had ascended four hundred yards, and were taken by opposing winds, they were driven over the open sea. Pilâtre, in order to descend, essayed to open the valve, but the valve-cord became entangled in the balloon, and tore it so badly that it became empty in an instant. It fell upon the Montgolfier apparatus, overturned it, and dragged down the unfortunates, who were soon shattered to pieces! It is frightful, is it not?

    I could only reply, For pity’s sake let us descend!

    The clouds gathered around us on every side, and dreadful detonations, which reverberated in the cavity of the balloon, took place beneath us.

    You provoke me, cried the unknown, and you shall no longer know whether we are rising or falling!

    The barometer went the way of the compass, accompanied by several more bags of sand. We must have been 5000 yards high. Some icicles had already attached themselves to the sides of the car, and a kind of fine snow seemed to penetrate to my very bones. Meanwhile a frightful tempest was raging under us, but we were above it.

    Do not be afraid, said the unknown. It is only the imprudent who are lost. Olivari, who perished at Orleans, rose in a paper Montgolfier;’ his car, suspended below the chafing-dish, and ballasted with combustible materials, caught fire; Olivari fell, and was killed! Mosment rose, at Lille, on a light tray; an oscillation disturbed his equilibrium; Mosment fell, and was killed! Bittorf, at Manu-heim, saw his balloon catch fire in the air; and he, too, fell, and was killed! Harris rose in a badly constructed balloon, the valve of which was too large and would not shut; Harris fell, and was killed! Sadler, deprived of ballast by his long sojourn in the air, was dragged over the town of Boston and dashed against the chimneys; Sadler fell, and was killed! Cokling descended with a convex parachute which he pretended to have perfected; Cokling fell, and was killed! Well, I love them, these victims of their own imprudence, and I shall die as they did. Higher! still higher!

    All the phantoms of this necrology passed before my eyes. The rarefaction of the air and the sun’s rays added to the expansion of the gas, and the balloon continued to mount. I tried to open the valve, but the unknown cut the cord several feet above my head. I was lost.

    Did you see Madame Blanchard fall? said he. I saw her; yes, I! I was at Tivoli on the 6th of July, 1819. Madame Blanchard rose in a small-sized balloon, to avoid the expense of filling, and she was forced to inflate it entirely. The gas leaked out below, and left a regular train of hydrogen in its path. She carried with her a sort of pyrotechnic aureola, suspended below her car by a wire, which she was to set off in the air. This she had done many times before. On this day she also carried up a small parachute ballasted by a firework contrivance, that would go off in a shower of silver. She was to start this contrivance after having lighted it with a port-fire made on purpose. She set out; the night was gloomy. At the moment of lighting her fireworks she was so imprudent as to pass the taper under the column of hydrogen which was leaking from the balloon. My eyes were fixed upon her. Suddenly an unexpected gleam lit up the darkness. I thought she was preparing a surprise. The light flashed out, suddenly disappeared and reappeared, and gave the summit of the balloon the shape of an immense jet of ignited gas. This sinister glow shed itself over the Boulevard and the whole Montmarrte quarter. Then I saw the unhappy woman rise, try twice to close the appendage of the balloon, so as to put out the fire, then sit down in her car and try to guide her descent; for she did not fall. The combustion of the gas lasted for several minutes. The balloon, becoming gradually less, continued to descend, but it was not a fall. The wind blew from the north-west and drove it towards Paris. There were then some large gardens just by the house No. 16, Rue de Provence. Madame Blanchard essayed to fall there without danger; but the ballon and the car struck on the roof of the house with a light shock. ‘Save me!’ cried the wretched woman. I got into the street at this moment. The car slid along the roof, and encountered an iron cramp. Madame Blanchard was thrown out of her car and precipitated upon the pavement She was killed!

    These stories froze me with horror. The unknown was standing with bare head, disheveled hair, haggard eyes! There was no longer any illusion possible. I recognized the horrible truth. I was in the presence of a madman!

    He threw out the rest of the ballast, and we must have now reached a height of at least nine thousand yards. Blood spurted from my nose and mouth!

    Who are nobler than the martyrs of science? cried the lunatic. They are canonized by posterity.

    But I no longer heard him. He bent down to my ear and muttered, "And have you forgotten Zambecarri’s catastrophe? Listen. On the 7th of October, 1804, the clouds seemed to lift a little. On the preceding days, the wind and rain had not ceased; but the announced ascension of Zambecarri could not be postponed. His enemies were already bantering him. It was necessary to ascend to save the science and himself from becoming a public jest. It was at Boulogne. No one helped him to inflate his balloon. He rose at midnight, accompanied by Andreoli and Grossetti. The balloon mounted slowly, for it had been perforated by the rain, and the gas was leaking out. The three intrepid aeronauts could only observe the state of the barometer by aid of a dark lantern. Zambecarri had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours. Grossetti was also fasting.

    " ‘My friends,’ said Zambecarri, ‘I am overcome by cold, and exhausted. I am dying.’

    "He fell inanimate in the gallery. It was the same with Grossetti. Andreoli alone remained conscious. After long efforts, he succeeded in reviving Zambecarri.

    " ‘What news? Whither are we going? How is the wind? What time is it?’

    " ‘It is two o’clock.’

    " ‘Where is the compass?’

    " ‘Upset!’

    " ‘Great God! The lantern has gone out!’

    ‘It cannot burn in this rarefied air, said Zambecarri.

    The moon had not risen and the atmosphere was plunged in murky darkness. ‘I am cold, Andreoli. What shall I do?’

    "They slowly descended through a layer of whitish clouds. ‘Sh!’ said Andreoli. ‘Do you hear?’

    " ‘What?’ asked Zambecarri.

    " ‘A strange noise.’

    " ‘You are mistaken. Consider these travelers, in the middle of the night, listening to that unaccountable noise! Are they going to knock against a tower? Are they about to be precipitated on the roofs? ‘Do you hear? One would say it was the sea.’

    " ‘Impossible!’

    " ‘It is the groaning of the waves!’

    " ‘It is true.’

    " ‘Light! light!’ After five fruitless attempts, Andreoli succeeded in obtaining light. It was three o’clock.

    "The voice of violent waves was heard. They were almost touching the surface of the sea! ‘We are lost!’ cried Zambecarri, seizing a bag of sand.

    " ‘Help!’ cried Andreoli.

    "The car touched the water, and the waves came up to their breasts. ‘Throw out the instruments, clothes!’

    "The aeronauts completely stripped themselves. The balloon, relieved, rose with frightful rapidity. Zambecarri was taken with vomiting. Grossetti bled profusely. The unfortunate men could not speak, so short was their breathing. They were taken with cold, and they were soon crusted over with ice. The moon looked as red as blood.

    "After traversing the high regions for a half-hour, the balloon again fell into the sea. It was four in the morning. They were half submerged in the water, and the balloon dragged them along, as if under sail, for several hours.

    "At daybreak they found themselves opposite Pesaro, four miles from the coast. They were about to reach it, when a gale blew them back into the open sea. They were lost! The frightened boats fled at their approach Happily, a more intelligent boatman accosted them, hoisted them on board, and they landed at Ferrada.

    "A frightful journey, was it not? But Zambecarri was a brave and energetic man. Scarcely recovered from his sufferings, he resumed his ascensions. During one of them he struck against a tree; his spirit-lamp was broken on his clothes; he was enveloped in fire, his balloon began to catch the flames, and he came down half consumed.

    At last, on the 21st of September, 1812, he made another ascension at Boulogne. The balloon clung to a tree, and his lamp again set it on fire. Zambecarri fell, and was killed! And in presence of these facts, we would still hesitate! No. The higher we go, the more glorious will be our death!

    The balloon being now entirely relieved of ballast and of all it contained, we were carried to an enormous height. It vibrated in the atmosphere. The least noise resounded in the vaults of heaven. Our globe, the only object which caught my view in immensity, seemed ready to be annihilated, and above us the depths of the starry skies were lost in thick darkness.

    I saw my companion rise up before me.

    The hour is come! he said. We must die. We are rejected of men. They despise us. We will not endure it. Let us crush them!

    Mercy! I cried.

    Let us cut these cords! Let this car be abandoned in space. The attractive force will change its direction, and we shall approach the sun!

    Despair galvanized me. I threw myself upon the madman, we struggled together, and a terrible conflict took place. But I was thrown down, and while he held me under his knee, the madman was cutting the cords of the car. One! he cried.

    My God!

    Two! Three!

    I made a superhuman effort, rose up, and violently repulsed the madman.

    Four! The car fell, but I instinctively clung to the cords and hoisted myself into the meshes of the netting.

    The madman disappeared in space!

    The balloon rose to an immeasurable height. A horrible cracking was heard. The gas, too much dilated, had burst the balloon. I shut my eyes——

    Some instants after, a damp warmth revived me. I was in the midst of clouds on fire. The balloon turned over with dizzy velocity. Taken by the wind, it made a hundred leagues an hour in a horizontal course, the lightning flashing around it.

    Meanwhile my fall was not a very rapid one. When I opened my eyes, I saw the country. I was two miles from the sea, and the tempest was driving me violently towards it, when an abrupt shock forced me to loosen my hold. My hands opened, a cord slipped swiftly between my fingers, and I found myself on the solid earth!

    It was the cord of the anchor, which, sweeping along the surface of the ground, was caught in a crevice; and my balloon, unballasted for the last time, careered off to lose itself beyond the sea.

    When I came to myself, I was in bed in a peasant’s cottage, at Harderwick, a village of La Gueldre, fifteen leagues from Amsterdam, on the shores of the Zuyder-Zee.

    A miracle had saved my life, but my voyage had been a series of imprudences, committed by a lunatic, and I had not been able to prevent them.

    May this terrible narrative, though instructing those who read it, not discourage the explorers of the air.

    THE END

    The Watch’s Soul

    OR

    Master Zacharius

    The Watch’s Soul

    CHAPTER I

    A WINTER’S NIGHT

    THE city of Geneva is situated at the western extremity of the lake to which it gives—or owes—its name. The Rhone, which crosses the city on emerging from the lake, divides it into two distinct quarters, and is itself divided, in the center of the city, by an island rising between its two banks. This topographical situation is often to be observed in the great centers of commerce or industry. Doubtless the earliest inhabitants were seduced by the facilities of transportation afforded by the rapid arms of the rivers,—those roads which advance of themselves, as Pascal says. In the case of the Rhone, they are roads which run. At the period when new and regular buildings had not as yet been erected on this island, anchored like a Dutch galiot in the midst of the river, the wonderful mass of houses huddled the one against the other offered to the eye a confusion full of charms. The small extent of the island had forced some of these buildings to perch upon piles, fastened pell-mell in the strong currents of the Rhone. These big timbers, blackened by time and worn by the waters, looked like the claws of an immense crab, and produced a fantastic effect. Some yellowed nets, real spiders’ webs stretched amid these venerable substructures, shivered and trembled in the shade as if they had been the foliage of these old oaks, and the river, engulfing itself in the midst of this forest of piles, foamed with melancholy groans.

    One of the habitations on the island struck the observer by its strange appearance of extreme age. It was the residence of the old clockmaker, Master Zacharius, his daughter Gerande, Aubert Thun, his apprentice, and his old servant, Scholastique.

    What an original personage was this Zacharius! His age seemed incalculable. The oldest inhabitants of Geneva could not have told how long his lean head had wavered on his shoulders, nor the first day on which he had been seen walking along the streets of the town, his long white locks floating waywardly in the wind. This man did not live. He oscillated after the manner of the pendulums of his clocks. His features, dry and cadaverous, affected somber tints. Like the pictures of Leonardo di Vinci, he had put black in the foreground.

    Gerande occupied the best room in the old house; whence, through a narrow window, her gaze rested sadly upon the snowy summits of the Jura. But the bedroom and shop of the old man were in a sort of cellar, situated on a level with the river; the flooring rested on the piles themselves. From an immemorial period Master Zacharius had not been known to emerge thence, except at meal-time, and when he went forth to regulate the different clocks of the city. He passed the rest of the time at a bench covered with numerous clockmaking instruments, which, for the most part, he had himself invented.

    For he was a man of talent. His works were very popular throughout France and Germany. The most industrious workmen in Geneva freely admitted his superiority, and that he was an honor to the city. They pointed him Out, saying, To him is due the glory of having invented the escapement!

    Indeed, it is from this invention, which the labors of Zacharius will later make clear, that is to be dated the birth of the real science of clockmaking.

    One winter’s evening old Scholastique was serving supper, in which, according to ancient usage, she was aided by the young apprentice. Though carefully prepared dishes were offered to Master Zacharius in fine blue-and-white porcelain, he ate nothing. He scarcely replied to the soft questionings of Gerande, who was visibly affected by the gloomy silence of her father; and the garrulousness of Scholastique herself only struck his ear like the grumblings of the river, to which he no longer paid attention. After this silent repast the old clockmaker left the table without embracing his daughter, nor did he, as usual, bid the rest good-evening. He disappeared through the narrow door which conducted to his retreat, and the staircase fairly creaked under his heavy tread.

    Gerande, Aubert, and Scholastique remained silent for some moments. The weather was gloomy; the clouds dragged themselves heavily along the Alps, and threatened to dissolve in rain; the severe temperature of Switzerland filled the soul with melancholy, while the midland winds prowled among the hills and whistled drearily.

    Do you know, my dear demoiselle, said Scholastique at last, that our master has kept wholly to himself for some days? Holy Virgin! I see he has not been hungry, for his words have remained in his stomach, and the Devil himself would be adroit to force one out of him!

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