burning sky

Chapter 3

lonely aristocrat

"Geniuses, they are high above, illuminated by the light of God."

I believe I have received too much favor while I was alive.

So what he is embarking on now must be an endless road of redemption.

Lavoisier was carrying the small suitcase. In the crude box, there was only an introduction to the association, a body manual, and the pajamas to be returned to Pascal.He wore a plain cotton suit, a black coat and a white shirt, perhaps distinguished only by a high ruffled cravat to hide the horrific scar on his neck.If he was still the famous and wealthy tax collector chemist alive, he would never wear such civilian clothes.But all he has now is this suit and this box.

The main hall of the French Pavilion is hidden among mottled flowers and trees.This simple and small building looks like a small apartment in the French countryside, and it cannot be compared with the house of the rich and wealthy Lavoisier family.The small nameplate on the dark wooden door is engraved with the residents here in a carefully cursive style.

"Bryce Pascal

Voltaire, François-Marie Arrouet

Antoine Lavoisier"

Yes, Antoine Lavoisier, and no longer Antoine-Laurent de Lavoisier.After the French Revolution, he was deprived not only of his property but also of his name.

This is my future home.

Lavoisier walked up the mossy stone steps and knocked on the door.The door was unlocked, so he poked his head inside, pushed the door open and walked in quietly.

A deep and ancient space, a dome without patterns or gold decorations, a dark wooden floor, and a few pieces of plain furniture constitute the living room.Lavoisier stood in the hallway, his pale and thin body looked even more insignificant under the long black coat.

A gray figure floated down the stairs.With long black hair, a sallow face with melon seeds, a tired expression, and a thin body with some malnutrition, a three-century-old soul lives in a 16-year-old body.

"Hi, I'm Blaise Pascal."

"...Hi...I'm Antoine Lavoisier...."

"Bryce shouldn't take the lead because of the slowness of the elderly..." An old man suddenly appeared from the back of the living room and came in front of the two teenagers.He has a thin body, dark eyes, and a sly smile. "Voltaire, whose real name was François-Marie Haruet."

Lavoisier awkwardly shook hands with the two roommates.For the first time, he felt that his cold and stiff body was so common and normal.

You have to praise the ingenuity of time and space, it twists so casually, any time gap can be spliced.

"Come and see your bedroom."

Lavoisier looked through his small and humble bedroom with mixed feelings, and of course he had no resentment, because he knew that he had too much (he found that Pascal's bedroom was similar).At this time, Pascal smiled at him mysteriously, and handed him a small key, "Go and see the room next to your bedroom."

A door that is indistinguishable from any other room.The key was inserted into the lock, and after turning it, a crisp greeting was heard.

A kind of sunshine that was too bright to open one's eyes spilled out the moment the door opened.In a pale yellow trance, Lavoisier walked into a chemical laboratory.As big as a small tennis court, laboratory benches, fume hoods, and reagent cabinets are lined up.The gooseneck retort lay silently on the ground, and the Erlenmeyer flask and the round bottom flask were peacefully next to each other.The small coal stove stood there, and the books on the table were casually placed, as if the owner had just left.

As if he left on November 1793, 11.

But after all, it still can't match his most luxurious laboratory in Europe.He looked at his initials on the key and knew it belonged to him.He walked quietly past the row of reagent cabinets.Everything seemed to tell him that he could finish his experiment on human respiration soon, and that he could start the great journey to find the real elements. The crisis had disappeared, and Mary and Berthollet watched him return happily. to here……

But he was already dead and left in this small place.The tears of Mary and Berthollet have long since dried up, buried in the ashes of history.All the dreams of that year have turned into dried blood scabs.

Lavoisier turned his head, and he saw Mary standing there in a white gauze dress smiling at him.No, it was just a picture hanging on the wall, a portrait of him and Mary.He is no longer the suave and talented aristocratic youth in the painting, but has become a sickly child; the beautiful woman has disappeared and the jade pendant is nowhere to be found.

Below the picture is a desk, the style and size of which are exactly the same as those in his lifetime.Lavoisier walked over, he touched the table subconsciously, but he froze immediately.

This table is too high.Also, he couldn't touch the reagent bottles on the top row of the reagent cabinet.

"I'm really sorry, Mr. Lavoisier. We didn't think about it when we bought it..." Pascal walked over and said apologetically.He also looks small in front of the adult-friendly furniture.

"We need more children's furniture." Mr. Voltaire burst out from behind, smiling slyly.

"Francois, don't be poor." Pascal was slightly dissatisfied with Voltaire's outspokenness.He turned to Lavoisier and said, "The bed in the bedroom must have been too high just now. I will inform Boyle immediately and they will immediately replace all the furniture in the bedroom and laboratory. Can we finish the replacement within a week?"

"Uh, there's no need... I can put cushions on the chairs, and I can put some wooden tables on the ground for the laboratory table... I don't need to trouble you to buy it again, it will cost too much..." Lavoisier said.I, who used to give generously to help others, now have nothing.I actually started to feel bad about money.

"Is this really appropriate?..." Pascal looked at Lavoisier. "But Antoine, are you really okay?! Your face looks too pale... Antoine!"

Lavoisier looked at Pascal with a sad smile on his face.There was a burst of dizziness in front of his eyes, and Lavoisier just fell down.

at the Association Hospital.

"Severe anemia."

Scheler looked at Lavoisier sleeping on the hospital bed, who looked like a weak little rabbit.

"Will he be all right?" Pascal asked.

"No. He will always be troubled by cervical spine problems and severe anemia, which is caused by his special cause of death." Scheele looked at Lavoisier's pale face with pity, "so he will faint from time to time No. I'm sorry to trouble you and Voltaire."

Pascal was silent for a long time.

"Actually he wasn't like that before, Pascal, Lavoisier wasn't sick like we were," said Scheler quietly. "When we were both human—I mean when we were both alive, I I met him once. At that time, I, Priestley and Lavoisier all discovered the substance now called 'oxygen' almost at the same time. It is true that Priestley and I were earlier than Lavoisier in terms of discovery time, But Priestley and I were stuck in the theory of phlogiston, and didn't know what we had discovered. It was Lavoisier who was the first to really recognize this new element and named it oxygen. At that time, the three of us I have been arguing over the right to discover oxygen... Lavoisier was young and vigorous, proud and proud, and his aristocratic noble temperament made him condescending... He had a successful career, a wealthy family, powerful and powerful, and let me, a pharmacist, A chemist by birth is ashamed...—you see, I am still working as a doctor here..."

"Well... I died prematurely from halogen poisoning..." Scheler went on, "so I couldn't witness what happened to Lavoisier later... But as we can guess from those sources, he must have died in his life. The last 7 months of torment and suffering...It was a devastating blow to him who had been pampered since childhood, and the idea of ​​privilege that had been ingrained in his mind...Death put an end to his suffering. But now he is being Choosing to become the materialized individual of the memoir, his resurrection filled him with grief..."

Pascal looked at Lavoisier's hand exposed to the infusion, which looked like a dry birch branch.

"Actually, I am more worried about his psychological pain than his physical pain." Scheele said after a long time. "Hate myself, hate the friends who abandoned him back then, hate that crazy era. Let him die at the peak of his career."

"August 1896, 8! Happy birthday to Antoine!" When Lavoisier walked into the chemistry group, Boyle popped up and said happily to him.

"Ah, before I know it, I've been here for two years..." Lavoisier said in surprise.

"Yes! But you have finished your internship in the study counseling office under our association, and now you are going to start your official work! Soon you will sit at your desk and answer questions from students all over the world through telegrams, phone calls and letters. Doubtful, you will soon have your own salary and no need to rely on the minimum living guarantee~" Boyle said, pulling Lavoisier into his office, "But today is your birthday, so there is a surprise... ..."

"—This office of the head of the chemistry group will be yours from now on!"

"Ah...you mean..." Lavoisier, who was forced onto the chair by Boyle, was very surprised.

"The 19th century is about to pass, and I, the leader of the chemistry group, is also outdated. The new journey of the chemistry group of the European Department of the European Department of the United Memoirs of the Human Memoirs is troublesome to Mr. Antoine Lavoisier!" Bo Yi Er smiled and put the team leader's badge on Lavoisier's bow tie, "But now there are almost no people in the chemistry team, so you are still a bare commander... But the rapid development of European chemistry in the 19th century is encouraging, so in the future You are busy~"

It is now the night of August 1896, 8.

Lavoisier studied the badge before placing it on his empty bedside table.I have lived here for two years... The bedroom is not big, not even a fraction of his bedroom before his death, but the small space can give a sick child a sense of security.The curtains over the windows were of light linen, without patterns, and none of the velvet and taffeta he had been accustomed to.On the desk in front of the window were just a stack of books, a pen, and a flask with flowers in it—he didn't have the money to buy a decent vase, so the bunch of little flowers was placed in a flask of water, which seemed It sucks, but he feels it's more in line with his profession.The clothes in the wardrobe are still only a set of pajamas and a set of modern world clothing, plus this 18th century clothing on him, that is all his clothes.As for shoes, a pair of leather shoes.No hat, gloves, scarf, but he no longer needs these, because he has lost the sense of temperature.

Lavoisier looked at the bed on which he was sitting, which was as simple as the surrounding ones.But he can't expect too much. Before he gets his first salary, he depends on others for everything.Although Pascal and the others kept asking what they needed, they always refused.Why do you refuse to accept help from others and prefer to suffer yourself?

Because he has never been a person who needs pity from others.At least while he was still alive.

As 15-year-old Lavoisier took his anemia medication and clutched his thin sheets, he remembered that he wasn't like this.Born in a family of lawyers, he was carefree since he was a child, and received the best education in France, and later bought a noble title.The wealth of his family allows him to choose his future freely.He can go to law school, but he can also have the best teachers for having the slightest interest in science.It's just that the interest is not just a little bit.The funds obtained by becoming a member of the Royal French Academy of Sciences could have supported his scientific research, but he still got a good job at the Taxation Bureau; marrying Marie-Anne, the daughter of the Director of the Taxation Bureau, further consolidated his source of funds; gunpowder Jobs at the Saltpeter Bureau and the Bank added a not insignificant amount to his income. A property of 1.3 million lire, president of the Royal French Academy of Sciences.It is really a perfect life with both fame and fortune, and every ray of light is rose-colored.

The only displeasure might be that Marie became the mistress of one of his visitors, the economist Mr. Dupont, but Lavoisier was so busy with work that he preferred Marie to his laboratory than she was to him. The wife is still satisfied.Besides, as a member of the French aristocracy with such indifferent marriage morals, isn't this all commonplace?

If I just wanted to be an ordinary chemist, if I didn't chase money and interests like that, if I didn't become a tax collector at that time, if I could fulfill my academic ideals and die peacefully...then I wouldn't have this daily life. Waking up from a nightmare, weak and frequently fainting, he became a frequent visitor to the hospital, struggling with great physical and psychological pain every day but still pretending to be happy little Lavoisier.

But history has no ifs.

Lavoisier opened a biography of him.Various biographies of Lavoisier, "Basics of Chemistry", "Introduction to Combustion"... have already filled his room, and it seems that every publisher has to seek the consent of the association.He picked up the scissors and silently looked at the portraits of himself and his wife in the book.Mary was still so happy and happy.This is the only intuitive trace of his past life that he can find now.

Lavoisier cut out the part of his wife from the portrait.He glanced indifferently at the haughty and elegant self still on the portrait, and put the book aside.

Lavoisier wanted to find a frame or a small locket to put the portrait that broke his heart.But he soon discovered that he had none of these cheap things that had been readily available at his house before, and he couldn't even afford one.So he had to clip Mary's portrait in the experiment notebook.Now he accidentally scanned the biography again.It turned to the last page.

"Celale ura prisse ulement un instant pour lui couper latête, mais la France pour rait ne pa sen pro duire une aut repare ille en unsiècle."

Every one of his biographies ends with that sentence.He sincerely thanked the man who wrote this praise of him.Yeah, except this guy's name comes up over and over again, so it hurts him:

Joseph-Louis Lagrange.

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Note: Lavoisier, as the president of the Royal French Academy of Sciences, was directly appointed by the king. Later, Lavoisier believed that the president should be elected and resigned voluntarily.

Note: There is a statement about "the change of Lavoisier's name" in this chapter.Before the French Revolution, Lavoisier was called by his full name. After the French Revolution, he was tended to be called "Antoine Lavoisier".English Wikipedia explains this.

Note: Lavoisier was not born a nobleman, his title of nobility was purchased later, because the title of nobility would allow him to work as a tax collector.

The author has something to say:

Today's chapter may be the most abusive chapter in the whole "Burning Sky".Although the atmosphere of "The Burning Sky" is relatively depressed, the following chapters are basically a combination of abuse, such as the abuse of Lavoisier and Lagrange, and the abuse of Rousseau.Only Chapter 3 abuses Lavoisier alone, and the angle of abuse is historical.The bibliography of this chapter is mainly Ling Yongle's "Lavoisier". Although this biography basically describes the experiments done by Lavoisier, there is still an indescribable melancholy after reading it.