CHAPTER 2. SONG OF THE MOON.

January 2, 1839.

“Why didn't I leave this accursed house a little while ago?” I thought to myself. “Elvira, wonderful Elvira! I won't be able to see you today, and I won't be able to sleep tonight. And what, what is to blame for this? This yellow, honeycombed moon! This yellow-eyed satellite of the blue-eyed Earth! This breathless and labile being, which for some reason with an indescribable madness attracts all curious, and therefore truly human, glances! The moon! The accursed moon! It is you who are the reason that at this hour my being is forced, I must admit, so reluctantly, to leave the limits of this, extraordinarily original, abode of science! Crazy Monsieur Daguerre! Once again today, he did not free my being from the performance of my prescribed duties at the appointed time! Science! He claims he only does this in the name of science! But what is his science to me when Elvira is waiting for me at this very moment? Elvira! What are his discoveries to me? What is his Moon to me? What are his Monsieur Isidore Niépce or his Monsieur Arago to me? Nothing more and nothing less than willful madmen whose thoughts are... no, not about science!... but only, only about wine! Ars longa, vita brevis!

Daily uttering those words of Hippocrates and invariably applying one of the constructions of that sentence to their own being, they do not even assume that on the unconditional stage of their consciousness, the aforementioned figures of science are continuously guided in all their actions by the second construction — life is short! Life! Their lives are short, and I, once again, under the pretext of notifying of the greatest discoveries of our time, am forced to bashfully ask for a few bottles of wine for my exclusively intoxicated... this time due to the discovery he made today!... master! A few bottles of wine! But are they truly the real reason for my current journey to Chalon-sur-Saône? Are they truly the real reason for my swift departure from Paris? From Paris — the city that was created for love and in the name of love! Elvira! Ah! Indeed! But what, what moves humanity now? Is it the madness of feeling or the madness of thought? Is it the thirst for indescribable pleasure or the desire for all-encompassing knowledge? This was unknown to me — I could only assume. However, now I know perfectly well what moves me now! I am moved by love! Yes, love! But, it seemed, is this possible? After all, at this very hour, as I gallop on my black horse Hyperion, I am getting further and further away from my beloved, from Elvira! No! Swiftly moving away from her now, I am approaching her with no less swiftness, because... because Mr. Isidore will thank me wonderfully for making this journey! Love! I am moved by love now! Come on, Hyperion! Don't sigh so heavily! After all, I am, after all, I am not sighing! Such is our predetermination! Such is our destiny! You and I, like a plow, are for some reason forced to furrow the spaces of this world... we are forced daily to leave traces in this world, by someone's will, which are scraped off with the swiftness of a drop by the raging winds and no less willful gusts of bad weather... soon they are overgrown with grass, and we, once again, as if we have never created anything, start this labor of the Danaids again! Hyperion! My good Hyperion! It would seem that in this world now there are only you and I! A single being! A single thought! A single consciousness! For some reason, I am in the saddle now, and for some reason, you are carrying me somewhere! No! Truly! No! In this world, there is still that accursed Moon! Look, Hyperion, how cunningly she smiles! She is mocking me! She believes that she rules over me now! Accursed Moon — it is because of her formal definition, which took place a little earlier, that you and I are now rushing to Mr. Isidore Niépce! Well, are you satisfied, yellow-eyed sorceress? Have you not reached your goal? Now I am far from my beloved, but in your company! So tell me, what do you need from me? Is it the same as from all people who are now within the limits of the sublunary world? Is it obedience? No! I am a man! I am the personification of the word 'disobedience,' even if I am now obedient to my master! I am a man! A man of my century! Come on, don't snort, Hyperion! You are also a child of our century! Our century! A child of the 19th century! That very century that was preceded by another century — a century that with indescribable sadness made a very peculiar decision of fate, which with indescribable frenzy resigned itself to its lot: the hundred-year-old old man, heavily bowing his head, continuously sobbing on his deathbed, quite predictably passed the baton to another century, the 19th century! Ah, unfortunate, mad old man — the 18th century! Having lived a motley life with bravado, he also died with similar bravado — as he ascended his deathbed, he left, truly, countless secrets and no fewer riddles! Court balls, banquets, wars, revolutions — all this, with a silver-faced flame, was involuntarily reflected in his hair! However, according to the laws of our universe, the father was most swiftly replaced by the son — the newborn 19th century, on whose shoulders an immeasurable multitude of hopes and aspirations were placed... including by the father of Monsieur Isidore Niépce! That century was destined for a difficult path — a no less difficult path still lies ahead! Even before the birth of the 19th son of our era, many intended to baptize him in some way, to give him a certain name, and accordingly to limit him: some called that century the “time of great upheavals and greatest trials,” while others called it the “time of the flourishing of the triplicity of human forces... concrete, iron, and steam!” thereby consciously dooming the triplicity of natural forces to defeat... earth, water, and air! The steel network, presumably, was supposed to inflict a crushing defeat on that very light network that was woven by the extremely industrious movements of a small spider! The experience of humanity began to grow exponentially, replacing the arithmetic progression! One formation replaced another ever faster! Some works replaced other works ever faster! From now on, Hegel's Science of Logic became a new testament for humanity! Cedant arma togae! From now on, religions no longer started wars, but those wars were carried out with the assistance of science! The world changed! The Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen, like a mad, like a mad and tireless whirlwind, was rapidly destroying monarchical Europe, and also, importantly, monarchical foundations — the nobility and clergy shuddered! They did not shudder as you shudder now, my good Hyperion! No! The spurs of the popular uprising entered their bodies extraordinarily deeply! Peoples ceased to define states as something that was sent from above! The Age of Enlightenment tried to return what had been lost before! Man again came close to returning to his former, pristine state. But was this really so? The force of law created a new turn in the war with the law of force! The world was undergoing significant metamorphoses. The steam engine gave man strength, Wilkinson's furnaces gave man stability, the telegraph gave man omnipotence! Gave! But is that so? Only by looking into inconspicuous places, into the shadow of the masquerade, can one realize the true reason, the true motive for its organization! Man! His strength lies in the weakness of another person — in a weakness not only physical but, what is most important... in a mental weakness! Whoa! Loosen your grip, my friend! We are approaching the forest. Do you want us to die and Monsieur Daguerre to be left without wine, and the world — without Mr. Isidore Niépce's notification of, perhaps, the greatest discovery of all those previously acquired by humanity? Ah! But what is this? Look! Clouds are appearing in the sky! Similar clouds and a similar moon were there when the artist Marin le Bourgeois created the flintlock! He created it for the sake of good, but for some reason, many now despise him! Perhaps a similar fate awaits Monsieur Daguerre? But is the reason for all human misfortunes, which are most directly associated with scientific discoveries, contained in the minds of the creators, in the minds of the creators, in the minds of geniuses? Ah! Look, Hyperion! We just rushed past an ancient oak! Did you see a swallow's nest on it? No! I didn't see it either! But as soon as I looked back, as soon as I turned around, my gaze distinguished it with lightning speed! It was hidden from our sight, but did it not exist because of that? But does it not exist because of that? But will it not exist because of that? Looking at that ancient tree from a different angle, we saw in it what we did not expect to see! This is also what happens with discoveries, my good Hyperion — people are only able to see one, specific, side of them... Look, Hyperion, the moonlight is getting silent! The clouds are covering the sky more and more! I no longer see the stars! We need to hurry, otherwise we won't get out of this forest in the pitch darkness! Come on, faster! Porro! Prorsum! Prorsus! Whoa! Where are you rushing?! Hyperion! Devil! These dark-faced clouds have completely covered the yellow face of that Moon! Hyperion! Whoa! Slower! Where are you flying? Stop! I can't, truly can't see anything in this pitch darkness! Arggh! Aaa... Devilish horse! Well? Did you get what you wanted? Now I am under you, accursed Hyperion! Get up, get up, you insane animal! Arggh! Devil! Your legs are broken! Just as my legs, which are now under your hefty rump, are most likely broken! Where were you rushing, you fool? A reckless, frantic... disobedient animal! With your disobedience, you have doomed yourself to death... and, of course, me to a similar end! Ah! If only I could get out from under you! But, damn it! Nothing is visible! Where are you, accursed Moon, when you are so needed? Arggh! Moon! Cunning Moon! You deliberately, intentionally hid yourself... you consciously put on those leaden robes... deliberately to ruin me... me and Hyperion! But... reckless one! Do you not know what information I must deliver to the house of Monsieur Niépce now? No! Of course, you did this on purpose! Elvira! Wonderful Elvira! Why didn't I leave this accursed house a little while ago? Ah! This is utter madness! Come on, get up, Hyperion! Stupid animal! But... Ah! What, what do I hear? Is it, is it the howl of wolves? Get up, I beg you, get up, Hyperion! Good, sweet horse! Allow me, allow me to get out from under your spotted being!.. Merciless wolves! They have smelled prey! Their voices are getting clearer and clearer! Elvira! Sweet Elvira! Being bound to you by the bonds of Cupid, I so wanted, I so craved to tie my life to your life with the bonds of Hymen! But, alas... today I am destined to die... in the name of the Moon or for the Moon — that same cunning woman who for some reason took my being from your being today... took it forever! Well, why are you delaying, you accursed predators! Hurry up, deprive my flesh of life as soon as possible! Sink your extraordinarily sharp fangs into my still warm flesh! You are delaying! For some reason, you are delaying... Ah! Cunning Moon! You have risen again, again! But not on purpose? Now your gaze most naturally illuminates the faces of my future murderers! Here they are, like you, cunningly smiling! Howl! They are again paying tribute to you with a song — and that tribute is called the Song of the Moon! They are approaching! You deliberately allow me to see them! Come on, Hyperion! Get up! Get up! They are getting closer and closer! I think I can already hear their breathing! Howl again! Stop burning incense to your mistress, you accursed predators! Ah! One of them is rapidly approaching me! Here he is, right next to me — we are separated by nothing more and nothing less than a few centimeters... Well, centurion... send me to my ancestors as soon as possible... Arggh! Blood is rapidly flowing down my neck... it's getting harder and harder to breathe... a whitish fog is instantly taking over my mind... however... however, I can hear... my hearing still heeds... the songs... the words of that very song... which is called... the Song of the Moon!.. You grabbed her hand... Monsieur Daguerre!.. You... You exposed her!.. as you will, no doubt, be able to expose all her accomplices later!..