Five Weeks in a Balloon: A Journey of Discovery by Three Englishmen in Africa
396
Five Weeks in a Balloon: A Journey of Discovery by Three Englishmen in Africa
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Overview
One of the great "first novels" in world literature is now available in a complete, accurate English translation. Prepared by two of America's leading Verne scholars, Frederick Paul Walter and Arthur B. Evans, this edition honors not only Verne's farseeing science, but also his zest, style, and storytelling brilliance. Initially published in 1863, Five Weeks in a Balloon was the first novel in what would become the author's "Extraordinary Voyages" series. It tells the tale of a 4,000-mile balloon trip over the mysterious continent of Africa, a trip that wouldn't actually take place until well into the next century. Fusing adventure, comedy, and science fiction, Five Weeks has all the key ingredients of classic Verne: sly humor and cheeky characters, an innovative scientific invention, a tangled plot that's full of suspense and surprise, and visions of an unknown realm. As part of the Early Classics of Science Fiction series, this critical edition features extensive notes, all the illustrations from the original French edition, and a complete Verne biography and bibliography. Five Weeks in a Balloon will be a prized addition to libraries and science fiction reading lists, and a must-read for Verne fans and steampunk connoisseurs.
Publication of this book is funded by the Beatrice Fox Auerbach Foundation Fund at the Hartford Foundation for Public Giving.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780819575487 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Wesleyan University Press |
| Publication date: | 06/05/2015 |
| Series: | Early Classics of Science Fiction |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 396 |
| File size: | 57 MB |
| Note: | This product may take a few minutes to download. |
| Age Range: | 18 Years |
About the Author
JULES VERNE (1828–1905) was the first author to popularize the literary genre that has become known as science fiction. FREDERICK PAUL WALTER is the translator of eight novels by Verne. Past vice-president of the North American Jules Verne Society and a former NPR scriptwriter and reference librarian, he lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico. ARTHUR B. EVANS is a professor of French at DePauw University and winner of the 2014 Cyrano prize for his scholarly contributions to the field of French science fiction. He has published numerous books and articles on Jules Verne and other early writers of French science fiction, serves as the managing editor of Science Fiction Studies, and is the general editor of Wesleyan's Early Classics of Science Fiction series.
Jules Verne (1828–1905) was the first author to popularize the literary genre that has become known as science fiction. Laying a careful scientific foundation for his fantastic adventure stories, he forecast with remarkable accuracy many scientific achievements of the 20th century. He anticipated flights into outer space, submarines, helicopters, air conditioning, guided missiles, and motion pictures long before they were developed.
Arthur B. Evans is an emeritus professor of French at DePauw University and winner of the 2014 Cyrano prize for his scholarly contributions to the field of French science fiction. He has published numerous books and articles on Jules Verne and other early writers of French science fiction, serves as the managing editor of Science Fiction Studies and is the general editor of Wesleyan's Early Classics of Science Fiction series.
Date of Birth:
February 8, 1828Date of Death:
March 24, 1905Place of Birth:
Nantes, FrancePlace of Death:
Amiens, FranceEducation:
Nantes lycée and law studies in ParisRead an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
The end of a wildly applauded speech — introducing Dr. Samuel Fergusson — "Excelsior" — full-length portrait of the doctor — a confirmed fatalist — dinner at the Travelers Club — many toasts to the occasion.
They had a packed house for the Royal Geographical Society's meeting on January 14, 1862, at 3 Waterloo Place, London. Their president, Sir Francis M — —, made a major announcement to his distinguished colleagues during a speech that was frequently interrupted by cheering.
This choice bit of eloquence finally came to a close with several grandiose sentences brimming over with patriotic fervor:
"England has always marched in front of other nations" (because, mind you, nations are always marching on each other's fronts), "thanks to the valor of her explorers in the realm of geographical discovery. (Much agreement.) Dr. Samuel Fergusson, one of her glorious sons, won't disgrace his ancestry. (No's from all directions.) If this endeavor succeeds (It will!) we'll ultimately fill in the blank spaces on Africa's map (hearty approval), and if it fails (No, never!) at the very least it will go down as one of the most courageous expressions of the human spirit!" (Frenzied stamping of feet.)
"Hooray! Hooray!" the gathering shouted, galvanized by these rousing words.
"Hooray for Fergusson the fearless!" exclaimed one of the audience's noisier members.
Enthusiastic yells rang out. Fergusson's name burst from every mouth, and we have reason to believe that it got an extra oomph from passing through English throats. The meeting room shook.
Yet many in the audience were seasoned travelers, dauntless, weather-beaten oldsters whose restless personalities had led them into the five corners of the globe! Mentally or physically, one way or another, they all had survived shipwrecks, wildfires, Indian tomahawks, the war clubs of savages, burning at the stake, and the bellies of Polynesians! But nothing could quiet their pounding hearts during that speech by Sir Francis M — —, which was definitely the grandest oratorical success at London's Royal Geographical Society within living memory.
But in England enthusiasm is more than a matter of words. It generates money quicker than molds at the Royal Mint. They voted Dr. Fergusson a performance incentive on the spot, the lofty figure of £2500. The significance of the sum was in keeping with the significance of the undertaking.
One of the Society's members queried the president on the issue of whether or not Dr. Fergusson would be formally introduced.
"The doctor is at the gathering's disposal," Sir Francis M — — answered.
"Bring him in! Bring him in!" they exclaimed. "A fellow as daring as all that is a sight worth seeing!"
"Maybe," said a palsied old commodore, "this unbelievable proposal of his is just a prank he's playing on us."
"What if there's no such person as Dr. Fergusson?" a roguish voice exclaimed.
"Then we'd have to invent him!" replied a humorous member of this solemn Society.
"Have Dr. Fergusson come in," Sir Francis M — — merely said.
And the doctor came in to thunderous applause, but not the least bit impressed by any of it.
He was some forty years old, a man of average height and build; his dark-hued complexion hinted at an assertive personality; he had a poker face with regular features and a strong nose, a nose like a ship's prow for a man predestined to be a discoverer; his eyes were quite gentle, shrewd rather than bold, and lent real charm to his facial expressions; his arms were long, and he planted his feet on the ground with the confidence of somebody who takes everything in stride.
The doctor's entire person gave off a calm dignity, and you couldn't imagine him playing even the most innocent prank.
Accordingly, the hoorays and applause didn't let up until Dr. Fergusson called for silence with a genial wave of the hand. He headed over to the chair set out for his presentation; then, still on his feet, not moving, his eyes resolute, he pointed his right index finger at the sky, opened his mouth, and uttered this single word:
"Excelsior!"
No surprise motion from Messrs. Bright and Cobden, no plea by Lord Palmerston for more money to fortify England's coasts, had ever created such a sensation! Sir Francis M — —'s speech was left in the dust. At one go the doctor came off as enlightened, masterful, clearheaded, and temperate; he had said the word for the day:
"Excelsior!"
Completely won over by this unusual man, the old commodore moved that Fergusson's communication be inserted "in its entirety" into the Proceedings of the Royal Geographical Society of London.
So who was this doctor, and what undertaking was he about to embark on?
During Fergusson's youth his father had been a gallant captain in the Royal Navy, and from his son's earliest years, he had acquainted the boy with the dangers and risks of his profession. The worthy lad seemed untouched by fear, quickly gave evidence of sharp wits, a questing intelligence, and a remarkable bent for scientific research; what's more, he revealed uncommon coping skills; nothing was ever awkward for him, not even using a fork for the first time, a test that youngsters generally fail.
Soon he was reading about bold undertakings, exploratory voyages, and they fired his imagination; he got all caught up in the discoveries that marked the first part of the nineteenth century; he daydreamed of the glory earned by Mungo Park, Bruce, Caillié, Levaillant — and even, I suspect, by Selkirk, who equaled them in his eyes. How many well-used hours he spent with that real-life Robinson Crusoe on his Juan Fernández Islands! Often he saw eye to eye with that marooned sailor; sometimes he disagreed with his plans and objectives; he would have acted differently and maybe done better — or, no doubt, at least as well! But one thing he was sure of — he never would have left that blissful island, where Selkirk had been as happy as a king without subjects ... no, not even if he were to become First Lord of the Admiralty!
I'll let you decide if these tendencies blossomed during an adventurous youth that took him to the four corners of the world. His father was an educated man who never missed a chance to sharpen his son's keen intelligence with in-depth studies in hydrography, physics, and mechanics, plus a smattering of botany, medicine, and astronomy.
When the worthy captain passed away, Samuel Fergusson was twenty-two years old and had already traveled around the globe; he enlisted in the Bengal Corps of Engineers and gave a good account of himself in several skirmishes; but this life of soldiering didn't agree with him; he had little interest in commanding, so he wasn't keen on obeying. He submitted his resignation and set out for the northern regions of India's peninsula, crossing it from Calcutta to Surat, surviving as both hunter and gatherer. A mere pleasure trip.
From Surat we see him traveling to Australia and in 1845 taking part in Captain Charles Sturt's expedition, whose mission was to push inland and find that second Caspian Sea thought to exist deep in that continent then known as New Holland.
Samuel Fergusson went back to England around 1850; the demon of discovery possessed him more than ever, and until 1853 he accom panied Captain McClure on an expedition that skirted the American continent from Bering Strait to Cape Farewell in Greenland.
Despite exertions of every kind and in every climate, Fergusson's sturdy constitution held up marvelously; he was at home with the most hopeless hardships; he was the very model of your ideal traveler whose belly contracts or expands at will, whose legs grow longer or shorter depending on the bed improvised for the occasion, who can fall asleep at any hour of the day and wake up at any hour of the night.
After that, from 1855 to 1857, nothing could be less surprising than to find our tireless traveler visiting all of western Tibet along with the Schlagintweit brothers, then bringing back some intriguing cultural data from their investigations.
During these various journeys, Samuel Fergusson was the liveliest and most interesting correspondent on the Daily Telegraph, that one-penny newspaper whose daily circulation runs as high as 140,000 copies, barely enough for its several million readers. Accordingly, he was well known, this doctor, although he wasn't a member of any scholarly organization, neither the royal geographical societies of London, Paris, Berlin, Vienna, or St. Petersburg, nor the Travelers Club, nor even the Royal Polytechnic Institute, lorded over by his friend Cockburn the statistician.
This sage actually proposed one day, as a friendly gesture, to solve the following problem for him: given the number of miles the doctor had covered in his journeys around the world, how many more miles had his head traveled than his feet, due to its greater radius? Or rather, supplied with the different mileages for the doctor's head and feet, what was his exact height to the nearest twelfth of an inch?
But Fergusson gave scholarly bodies a wide berth, being a member of the church of doers rather than talkers; his time was better spent in discovering than discussing, seeking than squabbling.
The story goes that an Englishman once visited Geneva intending to see the lake; they put him aboard one of those old-time carriages where the seats are mounted sideways and face out, as they do on the roof of an omnibus: now then, by chance our Englishman ended up in a seat that looked away from the lake; the carriage serenely circled it without the fellow thinking to turn around one single time, and he went back to London speechless over Lake Geneva.
Dr. Fergusson, however, had turned around, and more than once during his travels, with the result that he had seen plenty. In this, moreover, he was just doing what came naturally, and we have grounds for thinking that he was a bit of a fatalist, but it was a very conservative sort of fatalism where he relied on himself and even on Providence; in his journeys he saw himself as pushed rather than pulled, as traveling the world like a railroad engine, which isn't steered but goes where the tracks do.
"I don't look for my path," he often said. "My path looks for me."
So nobody will be surprised by his composure as he received the Royal Society's applause; he was above such petty concerns, had no pride and even less vanity; he saw the proposal he had presented to Sir Francis M — — as perfectly simple and didn't even notice the immense effect it produced.
After the meeting, they took the doctor to the Travelers Club on Pall Mall; there he found a superb feast laid out for him; the dimensions of the dishes served were commensurate with the honoree's importance, and the sturgeon that figured in this splendid meal wasn't three inches shorter than Samuel Fergusson himself.
The diners lifted their glasses of French wine and proposed many toasts to the famous travelers who had earned renown in the land of Africa. They drank to their health or memory in alphabetical order, being veddy British: to Abbadie, Adams, Adanson, Anderson, Arnaud, Avanchers, Baikie, Baldwin, Barth, Battuta, Beke, Beltrame, Belzoni, Bimbachi, Bonnemain, Bou Derba, Bowdich, Brisson, Browne, Bruce, Brun-Rollet, Burchell, Burckhardt, Burton, Cailliaud, Caillié, Campbell, Castel-Bolognesi, Chaillu, Chapman, Clapperton, Clot Bey, Colonieu, Courval, Cuny, Debono, Decken, Denham, Dickinson, Dickson, Dochard, Duncan, Durand, Duroulé, Duveyrier, El-Tounsy, Erhardt, Escayrac de Lauture, Ferret, Fresnel, Galinier, Galton, Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, Golbéry, Gordon-Cumming, Hahn, Halm, Harnier, Hecquard, Heuglin, Hornemann, Houghton, Imbert, Kaufmann, Knoblecher, Krapf, Kummer, Lafargue, Laing, La Jaille, Lambert, Lamiral, John Lander, Richard Lander, Lefebvre, Lejean, Lemprière, Levaillant, Livingstone, MacCarthy, Magyar, Maizan, Malzac, Moffat, Mollien, Monteiro, Morrisson, Neimans, Overweg, Panet, Park, Partarrieu, Pascal, Pearce, Peddie, Peney, Petherick, Poncet, Prax, Raffenel, Rath, Rebmann, Richardson, Riley, Ritchie, Rochet d'Héricourt, Roscher, Roungawi, Rüppell, Saugnier, Speke, Steudner, Thibaut, Thompson, Thornton, Toole, Trotter, Tuckey, Tyrwhitt, Vaudey, Vayssière, Vincent, Vinco, Vogel, Wahlberg, Warrington, Washington, Werne, Wild, and finally Dr. Samuel Fergusson, whose incredible endeavor aimed to link up the achievements of all these travelers and complete this series of African discoveries.
CHAPTER 2An article in the Daily Telegraph — scholarly journals at war — Herr Petermann stands by his friend Dr. Fergusson — response from the learned Koner — sporting wagers — various propositions made to the doctor.
The next day, in its January 15 issue, the Daily Telegraph published an article that read as follows:
At last Africa is going to turn over the secrets of her vast, lonely wastes: a modern-day Oedipus will be giving us the key to a riddle that the scholars of sixty centuries haven't managed to decipher. Formerly, to search for the source of the Nile — or, in the old Latin wording, fontes Nili quærere — was viewed as an insane endeavor, a fantasy that could never become reality.
Dr. Barth followed the route plotted by Denham and Clapperton as far as Sudan; Dr. Livingstone conducted many courageous investigations from the Cape of Good Hope to the Zambezi basin; Captains Burton and Speke discovered the great inland lakes. They blazed three trails for modern civilization; the spot where they intersect — which travelers still haven't managed to reach — lies in Africa's very heart. It's in this region that every effort needs to be made.
Now the deeds of those bold scientific pioneers will be tied together in this daring endeavor by Dr. Samuel Fergusson, whose splendid feats of exploration our readers have often relished.
This courageous discoverer proposes to cross all Africa from east to west by balloon. If our sources are correct, the starting point of this astounding journey will be the island of Zanzibar off Africa's east coast. As for its endpoint, God only knows.
Yesterday the Royal Geographical Society heard a formal proposal for this piece of scientific exploration; they approved the sum of £2500 to cover the undertaking's costs.
We will keep our readers up to date on this endeavor, which is unprecedented in the annals of geography.
As you might expect, this article had an enormous impact: at first it stirred up storms of skepticism; folks regarded Dr. Fergusson as an outright fantasy, an invention of Mr. P. T. Barnum — who, after working the states of the Union, was all set to "take in" the British Isles.
In Geneva a witty rebuttal appeared in the February issue of Dispatches from the Geographical Society; it poked fun at London's Royal Society, the Travelers Club, and the phenomenal sturgeon.
But Herr Petermann's Mitteilungen, published in Gotha, reduced the Geneva journal to the most abject silence. Herr Petermann was personally familiar with Dr. Fergusson and vouched for the bravery of his daring friend.
Soon, however, there was no longer any room for doubt; preparations for the journey were under way in London; the factories of Lyon had received a major order for the taffeta needed to manufacture the lighter-than-air vehicle; lastly the British government put the cargo boat Resolute, skippered by Captain Pennet, at the doctor's disposal.
Instantly thousands offered him encouragement, thousands bombarded him with congratulations. Meanwhile details of the undertaking were published in the bulletins of the Paris Geographical Society; a notable article appeared in Monsieur V. A. Malte-Brun's New Annals of Travel, Geography, History, and Archaeology; a probing piece by Dr. W. Koner saw print in the Zeitschrift für Allgemeine Erdkunde, triumphantly revealing the journey's potential, its chances of success, the nature of the obstacles ahead, the immense advantages of an airborne mode of travel; it criticized only the journey's starting point; instead it preferred Massawa, a little Ethiopian port from which James Bruce had set out in 1768 to search for the Nile's headwaters. But it unreservedly admired Dr. Fergusson's strength of mind and the bold-as-brass courage that could conceive and attempt such a journey.
The North American Review watched with little pleasure as England basked in all this glory; it laughed off the doctor's proposal and invited him to push on to America while the going was good.
In short, without listing every periodical on the planet, there wasn't a scientific forum from the Journal of Evangelical Missions to the Algerian and Colonial Review, from the Annals of the Propagation of the Faith to the Church Missionary Reporter, that didn't go into every aspect of this affair.
In London and across England, folks wagered sizable sums: 1) on whether Dr. Fergusson was a real or imaginary being; 2) on the journey itself, which some said wouldn't even be attempted and others said would be carried out in full; 3) on the issue of determining if it succeeded or not; 4) on the likelihood or unlikelihood of Dr. Fergusson ever coming back. The bookmakers logged enormous amounts on these wagers, as if they were taking bets at Epsom Downs.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Five Weeks in a Balloon"
by .
Copyright © 2015 Arthur B. Evans.
Excerpted by permission of Wesleyan University Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Introduction: Verne Takes Off
Five Weeks in a Balloon
Notes on the Translation
Gallery of Heroes
Notes
Bibliography
Jules Gabriel Verne: A Biography
About the Contributors
What People are Saying About This
“Five Weeks in a Balloon counts among the dozen Verne books that are the most interesting for modern readers and critics, and even in French, no annotated or critical edition has ever appeared. Walter is at the forefront of contemporary translators.”
“A daring adventure with huge dollops of geographical, technological, and scientific information, touches of humor, and a slow build-up followed by one exciting incident after another. This is essential reading for Verneans as well as the go-to text for ordinary readers seeking an accurate translation of one of Verne’s most popular and significant novels.”
"Five Weeks in a Balloon counts among the dozen Verne books that are the most interesting for modern readers and critics, and even in French, no annotated or critical edition has ever appeared. Walter is at the forefront of contemporary translators."—William Butcher, author of Jules Verne: The Definitive Biography
"A daring adventure with huge dollops of geographical, technological, and scientific information, touches of humor, and a slow build-up followed by one exciting incident after another. This is essential reading for Verneans as well as the go-to text for ordinary readers seeking an accurate translation of one of Verne's most popular and significant novels.""—Michael Dirda, author of Classics for Pleasure and On Conan Doyle
"Five Weeks in a Balloon counts among the dozen Verne books that are the most interesting for modern readers and critics, and even in French, no annotated or critical edition has ever appeared. Walter is at the forefront of contemporary translators."—William Butcher, author of Jules Verne: The Definitive Biography