Lavoisier allowed him to wait in the laboratory while she herself sat nearby, quietly working at her own table. She wore a simple white dress, and her facial features were more pleasing than beautiful, but this effect of serenity was challenged by a mane of wildly curly hair that bounced with every movement she made and framed her head like an unruly helmet. Longer strands of hair fell over her shoulders and down her back, and Lamanon saw that she was actually sitting on the longest locks. Could she not feel that as she leaned over her work, he wondered, the pull at her scalp of hair pinned beneath her buttocks? But then the great chemist himself strode in, and before he noticed Lamanon, before his wife could warn him they had a visitor, he said, âMarie-Anne, come out in the garden with me. I want to see you soaked with rain.â It was impossible to remain serious after that. The three of them gathered around the carrying case of the barometer and tittered while they examined the instrumentâfirst Madame de Lavoisier, turning away to hide her mirth, then her husband, and finally Lamanon, all struck by the hilarity of the long, mercury-filled glass tube, snug in its velvet-lined cavity.
Lamanon has not stopped thinking of the Lavoisiers since. He dreams of them sometimes, of himself with them, of the three of them together, of the effect of rain on that white dress and the outrageous curls. But they are not just the subject of a lonely savantâs fantasies. Antoine and Marie-Anne de Lavoisier held out for Lamanon the prospect of something he had not even known he was missing till that day in Mayânot so much marriage between equals, although that did seem true of them, or even marriage based on love, although that was obviously the case as well, but the happy union of science and humanity within an individual, and the joy that was possible when one person, so self-integrated, encountered another such person.
So he is loath to abandon the barometer that has for him such pleasurable associations. Yet now that he has taken both barometers to the peak and back, the verdict is clear. Lavoisierâs barometer is fine for work on land, but will never do at sea. He is sorry, but also glad that he has been able to make such good use of the barometer at Tenerife. He feels he has discharged a debt of gratitude to the barometer, to its maker, to the generous chemist who obtained it for him, and to the chemistâs wife who blushed and laughed when she saw it. It can now be left safely and without obligation in its case, where it will remain until they land someplace where an observatory can be established. Lamanon would like to write to the Lavoisiers now, to tell them how well the barometer performed in Tenerife, to remind them of that afternoon in May. But the shipâs bell has rung at least twice since he began. He has time for just one short letter, and it will be to his mother.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
What if, some two years, three months, and fifteen days after this afternoon of letter writing, instead of joining the men who leave the ships to collect water and stretch their legs at an unknown cove in Samoa, Lamanon were to remain safely aboard the Boussole ? And what if, instead of foundering in a storm in the Solomon Islands the following spring, the Boussole , at least, were to make it back to France?
Two surmises come to mind: first, regarding Lamanonâs scientific legacy, and second, suggesting a different sort of ending for him. As for his legacy, all that messing about with barometers and compasses during the voyage will yield two discoveries that properly belong to him. For the suppositions of Newton and Laplace were correct: there are atmospheric tides. And Lamanon, working round the clock with the English barometer every time the expedition crosses the equator (this will happen three times), will be the first to observe its twelve-hour cycles. Then there are his meticulous compass
Lamanon has not stopped thinking of the Lavoisiers since. He dreams of them sometimes, of himself with them, of the three of them together, of the effect of rain on that white dress and the outrageous curls. But they are not just the subject of a lonely savantâs fantasies. Antoine and Marie-Anne de Lavoisier held out for Lamanon the prospect of something he had not even known he was missing till that day in Mayânot so much marriage between equals, although that did seem true of them, or even marriage based on love, although that was obviously the case as well, but the happy union of science and humanity within an individual, and the joy that was possible when one person, so self-integrated, encountered another such person.
So he is loath to abandon the barometer that has for him such pleasurable associations. Yet now that he has taken both barometers to the peak and back, the verdict is clear. Lavoisierâs barometer is fine for work on land, but will never do at sea. He is sorry, but also glad that he has been able to make such good use of the barometer at Tenerife. He feels he has discharged a debt of gratitude to the barometer, to its maker, to the generous chemist who obtained it for him, and to the chemistâs wife who blushed and laughed when she saw it. It can now be left safely and without obligation in its case, where it will remain until they land someplace where an observatory can be established. Lamanon would like to write to the Lavoisiers now, to tell them how well the barometer performed in Tenerife, to remind them of that afternoon in May. But the shipâs bell has rung at least twice since he began. He has time for just one short letter, and it will be to his mother.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
What if, some two years, three months, and fifteen days after this afternoon of letter writing, instead of joining the men who leave the ships to collect water and stretch their legs at an unknown cove in Samoa, Lamanon were to remain safely aboard the Boussole ? And what if, instead of foundering in a storm in the Solomon Islands the following spring, the Boussole , at least, were to make it back to France?
Two surmises come to mind: first, regarding Lamanonâs scientific legacy, and second, suggesting a different sort of ending for him. As for his legacy, all that messing about with barometers and compasses during the voyage will yield two discoveries that properly belong to him. For the suppositions of Newton and Laplace were correct: there are atmospheric tides. And Lamanon, working round the clock with the English barometer every time the expedition crosses the equator (this will happen three times), will be the first to observe its twelve-hour cycles. Then there are his meticulous compass
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