Jean-Marie Blas De Robles - Where Tigers Are at Home

THE XIAN STELE: For Kircher it’s absolute proof that China was Christian before becoming Buddhist or Confucian. The remains of an Atlantis of the true faith suddenly appearing on the surface of the earth, it’s enough just to point at them and the idolators will remember their lost paradise. The utopia of the perfect city is not situated in the future, as it is for More or Campanella, but in the most distant past.

TO BRING THE INVISIBLE INTO EXISTENCE: Euclides asking me to imagine an unfathomable abyss between us and finishing up crossing it with one great stride to join me. “You never know, do you …”

In which is shown how Kircher surpassed Leonardo da Vinci & caused the feline race to contribute to the most marvelous of concerts …

“NATU RA/NATU RA/GAU DET/H/, natura natura gaudet! ” the Cardinal read out in great surprise, “ ‘nature rejoices in nature’ … That is truly marvelous & I beg you to forgive me the irony I permitted myself just now. Send your machine to the supreme pontiff within the hour, he will be charmed by it, of that I’m sure. As for myself, I can only beg you to make another one of the same ilk for me. You can rest assured I will not be ungrateful …”

Athanasius promised the Cardinal he would do his best & seemed very satisfied with the outcome of this meeting. His credit continued to grow among the highest echelons of the Church, ensuring that he had the freedom & resources that were essential for his work. My master made me more and more of a partner in it & during the two following years I assisted him every day in his research into the meaning of the hieroglyphs; except in 1642 when, for my glory and a few minor aftereffects, my master developed a passionate interest in the science of the air.

This adventure originated in a conversation with Nicholas Poussin, who had come to see him in order to improve his command of the difficult art of perspective. Leafing through one of the codices of Leonardo da Vinci, which had most graciously been lent him by Sieur Raphaël Trichet du Fresne, the librarian of Queen Christina of Sweden, Kircher was struck by the flying machine devised by the Florentine.

“Despite my great admiration for Leonardo,” Poussin said, “I have to admit that he sometimes flouted the most elementary laws of physics. He was a dreamer of genius, but a dreamer all the same — it’s obvious that the air is too sparse & too weak to support the weight of a man’s body, however big his wings.”

Kircher shook his head. “No, Monsieur, definitely not! Just consider the way geese & other large birds flap their wings when they want to take off & fly, & the weight of paper and wood that can be made to glide by pulling them with a string, & perhaps you will change your mind. I am convinced a man can rise up into the air, provided he has wings that are large & strong enough & has sufficient strength to beat the air as needed; which could be done with certain springs, which would make the wings move as quickly & as strongly as necessary.

“It is a persuasive argument, Reverend Father, but you will allow me to dispute it as long as, like Saint Thomas, I have not seen a man rise up into the air with my own eyes.”

‘That doesn’t matter,” my master said, “I will take up the challenge & we will meet again in three months, the time it will take me to carry out certain preliminary experiments. But I insist that it is definitely no more difficult to fly than to swim; & just as that seems child’s play once it has been learned — even though one would have thought it impossible — we will consider the art of flying quite natural once we have practiced it.”

Monsieur Poussin left that evening, dazzled by Athanasius’s self-assurance, but far from convinced. For my part, I had such confidence in my master that I did not doubt for one moment that he would succeed. I was in a fever of excitement at the idea of flying up into the skies & I pestered Kircher so much that he agreed to grant my desire to be the first man to perform that feat.

The few weeks that followed are the most beautiful I can remember. We abandoned our studies to devote ourselves entirely to this project. Cardinal Barberini and Signore Manfredo Settala were enthusiastic about my master’s undertaking; they advanced the funds necessary & the craftsmen set to work. Three weeks sufficed for the completion of the most astonishing thing seen for decades: it was like a huge bat with no body, an eighteen-foot wingspan covered in white feathers fixed to a framework of canes. The device was fitted to my shoulders by a system of straps & once it was on my back I realized I was able to move the wings without too much effort, though slowly.

“The great eagles of Tartary are like that,” Kircher assured me, “they only take off slowly & with dignity, using the strength of the wind. Don’t worry, Caspar, this machine has been designed not to lift itself up from the ground by its own force, but to move though the air once it has been carried up there.”

One week later everything was ready. Kircher summoned Poussin, Cardinal Barberini & Signore Settala to the top of Castel Sant’Angelo, from which, it had been decided, I was to take off. It was a pleasant June day; a gentle breeze hardly made the leaves stir & I was very excited at the idea of being the first man finally to achieve this old dream of the human race.

“I chose this particular place,” Athanasius explained to his guests, “so that my brave assistant, Father Schott, can land without harm in the waters of the Tiber, in the unlikely case — although a setback can never be excluded — that some adversity will force him to break off his flight. Father Schott being unable to swim, I have provided him with balloons filled with air, which will easily support him in the liquid element.”

Having said that, he had two translucent waterskins — pigs’ stomachs, as it seemed to me — which he tied on either side of my waist. Then I was harnessed & had to beat my wings several times while my master checked they were working properly. The three men were enraptured at the ingenious arrangement of this mechanism.

For the first time I became aware of the serious position in which my thoughtlessness had placed me: a fearful abyss yawned beneath my feet & the Tiber down below seemed tiny … Pictures of my previous fall, during one of the first trials, crowded my memory; I was sweating abundantly & as the strength drained from my arms, my legs began to tremble piteously. I was terrified.

“Off you go, Caspar,” my master suddenly cried in grandiloquent tones, “& may the day come when your fame will outshine that of Icarus!”

For a fraction of a second the mention of that unfortunate hero seemed an ill omen, but as Athanasius had accompanied his words of encouragement with a friendly & vigorous push on my calves, I lost my balance &, rather than simply fall, I launched myself into the void.

It was the most extraordinary feeling of my whole life: freed from the fetters of my body, I was gliding like a seagull, or like a sparrow-hawk circling above its prey. However, this pleasurable sensation did not last long; I realized that I was in fact rapidly losing height & that, far from gliding, as I thought, I was well & truly falling, although more slowly than if I had not been wearing my false wings. The waters of the Tiber were approaching rapidly &, terrified, panic-stricken by the horror of my situation, I tried to beat my wings with the energy of despair. My fear was so great that I managed to move them several times without, however, raising myself higher at all. The only result of my efforts was, thanks be to Heaven, to slow down my fall a little. Not enough, though, to stop me plunging into the Tiber in a manner that I would have wished were more dashing. My last conscious act was to recommend my soul to God before I had the sensation of crashing into a surface as hard as marble …