Read Online The Mercury Visions of Louis Daguerre by Dominic Smith - Free Book Online
Authors: Dominic Smith
Ads: Link
forehead; he was a scientist kept awake by the great questions of his time. Louis wanted to confess and warn. François, take your family to an abbey and pray with the monks, leave your scientific post and go to Venice, learn how to paint and rise each morning while the stars are still white-lit against the dawn. Be a boy again. Play cork-penny in the lane and set paper boats afloat on the Seine. The time is upon us.
Instead, Louis Daguerre said this: “The truth is, I fear they will be stolen from me. As you know, there has been jealousy on all sides, claims that independent inventions were made earlier. I need them in a safe place.”
“You imagine that someone will rob you?” Arago asked.
“I am sure of it. In fact, there has been one attempt already.” The lie was effortless, and it filled Louis with a salesman’s confidence; he was sure Arago would acquiesce. For good measure, he added, “I could lose my entire collection, my whole life’s work, if I don’t find a safe place to store them.”
Arago folded his arms. “Well, these are special circumstances. But we must keep this a secret. You tell me when you want access, and I will arrange it.”
“Many thanks. I owe you much kindness.”
“Yes, so you keep saying. Next time I want to reach you, I’ll hire a town crier to come and stand outside your door.” Arago laughed at this, dabbed a scuffed patch on his calfskin boot, and said, “Now, shall we go look at the sun?”
Louis followed Arago out into the hall. They climbed to a rooftop observation platform above the eastern tower where various telescopes were set up. Louis saw that his equipment had been piled by a railing. He placed the camera obscura on the tripod and prepared a copper plate with carded cotton and powdered pumice. The day was growing hot and Louis loosened his collar.
“Are you still using quicksilver to fix your images?” Arago asked.
“The marriage of mercury and silvered copper is a lasting one.”
“Few marriages last forever,” Arago said absently, peering off at the Paris rooftops. “I thought perhaps you’d found something less abrasive.”
“It’s destined to stay in the process. It’s a noble metal, neighbor to gold.” There was a high pitch of vitriol in Louis’s voice. “Hardly an accident that it plays a role. And Priestley never would have discovered oxygen without burning mercury oxide. Where would the observatory weather station be without mercury in your thermometers?” He looked back at the plate and rubbed it with carded cotton. The threat of a cough made him regret the cigar.
“I was merely asking.” Arago leaned against the railing and looked high overhead at the sun. “Did you know the king has granted my eleven o’clock curfew on the new moon? People in this neighborhood are not permitted to burn candles or lamps after that hour.”
“Excellent news,” said Louis. In truth it sounded trivial, a royal concession to the trifle of stargazing. Louis aimed the camera obscura skyward. His face was flushed and he could feel sweat on his back. “Do you have any specific instructions? I’m using a filter to diminish some of the glare.”
“For both the sun and moon I require only one thing—some indication of their surfaces.”
“And do you mind if I make two plates and keep one for myself?”
“Not at all. I didn’t realize you were interested in the heavenly bodies.”
“I find of late I am more and more interested in what goes on up there.”
Louis positioned himself behind the camera. The sun floated almost directly overhead and appeared more white than yellow. He would use a very brief exposure on account of the sheer brightness. He opened the diaphragm and started to count, staring into the sun. The solar flare triggered something. He felt a prickle at the back of his neck, a raked sensation in his fingers. His eyes began to smart, but he couldn’t look away from the tin-hued glare. He thought he could see thermal waves,
Instead, Louis Daguerre said this: “The truth is, I fear they will be stolen from me. As you know, there has been jealousy on all sides, claims that independent inventions were made earlier. I need them in a safe place.”
“You imagine that someone will rob you?” Arago asked.
“I am sure of it. In fact, there has been one attempt already.” The lie was effortless, and it filled Louis with a salesman’s confidence; he was sure Arago would acquiesce. For good measure, he added, “I could lose my entire collection, my whole life’s work, if I don’t find a safe place to store them.”
Arago folded his arms. “Well, these are special circumstances. But we must keep this a secret. You tell me when you want access, and I will arrange it.”
“Many thanks. I owe you much kindness.”
“Yes, so you keep saying. Next time I want to reach you, I’ll hire a town crier to come and stand outside your door.” Arago laughed at this, dabbed a scuffed patch on his calfskin boot, and said, “Now, shall we go look at the sun?”
Louis followed Arago out into the hall. They climbed to a rooftop observation platform above the eastern tower where various telescopes were set up. Louis saw that his equipment had been piled by a railing. He placed the camera obscura on the tripod and prepared a copper plate with carded cotton and powdered pumice. The day was growing hot and Louis loosened his collar.
“Are you still using quicksilver to fix your images?” Arago asked.
“The marriage of mercury and silvered copper is a lasting one.”
“Few marriages last forever,” Arago said absently, peering off at the Paris rooftops. “I thought perhaps you’d found something less abrasive.”
“It’s destined to stay in the process. It’s a noble metal, neighbor to gold.” There was a high pitch of vitriol in Louis’s voice. “Hardly an accident that it plays a role. And Priestley never would have discovered oxygen without burning mercury oxide. Where would the observatory weather station be without mercury in your thermometers?” He looked back at the plate and rubbed it with carded cotton. The threat of a cough made him regret the cigar.
“I was merely asking.” Arago leaned against the railing and looked high overhead at the sun. “Did you know the king has granted my eleven o’clock curfew on the new moon? People in this neighborhood are not permitted to burn candles or lamps after that hour.”
“Excellent news,” said Louis. In truth it sounded trivial, a royal concession to the trifle of stargazing. Louis aimed the camera obscura skyward. His face was flushed and he could feel sweat on his back. “Do you have any specific instructions? I’m using a filter to diminish some of the glare.”
“For both the sun and moon I require only one thing—some indication of their surfaces.”
“And do you mind if I make two plates and keep one for myself?”
“Not at all. I didn’t realize you were interested in the heavenly bodies.”
“I find of late I am more and more interested in what goes on up there.”
Louis positioned himself behind the camera. The sun floated almost directly overhead and appeared more white than yellow. He would use a very brief exposure on account of the sheer brightness. He opened the diaphragm and started to count, staring into the sun. The solar flare triggered something. He felt a prickle at the back of his neck, a raked sensation in his fingers. His eyes began to smart, but he couldn’t look away from the tin-hued glare. He thought he could see thermal waves,
Similar Books
