This part of the website is dedicated to transcribed documents that belonged to the Bleiers.
Most are letter correspondence, telegrams, and a handful of journal entries.
What you see here is what I have.
As always, if you think you have any information related to the Bleiers, please try to get in contact with me!
I will gladly add your contributions to the website.
February 4th, 1883
Father has died.
I’m sorry, Ophelia. I know that by the time you receive this letter, you are hurrying through your final year-end, eager to come home, and may even be packing your suitcases as the courier places this letter into your hand.
This event is sudden for us all, though we knew it was coming, didn’t we? Father finally succumbed to his morphinomania. He was gripping a bottle of laudanum in his hand when we found him. Lucas was convinced that it was his way of being close to Mother. Now that he has gone in this way, I am inclined to agree.
You may either feel a sense of urgency at this moment, or a sense that, perhaps, there is no use moving through the weight of this sadness. I assure you, sister, Lucas and I require your time and attention more than ever.
Enclosed, you will find the second reason as to why I’ve sent this by post and not through telegraph.
He left all of it to you, Ophelia. All of it. The shop. The laboratory. The greenhouse. The manor. All of it. Of course, under the condition that Lucas and I maintain our places within the family business, and we are permitted to remain in the manor as we always have.
Father always believed in you.
Even now, beyond the grip of death.
- Alistir
* * *
April 20th, 1883
Alistir,
I was folding socks when my mail arrived. I thought it simply congratulatory letters from classmates and professors, but, no. Only you.
The night before I received your letter, I had one of those dreams, again. You know the ones. Hallucinations of little importance until some realization comes to pass.
Father stood at the door of the manor greenhouse. It was beautiful. It sparkled in the sun, like an exotic jewel. It was very strange. It stood in the middle of a vast desert full of quartz sand.
Father held out his arms to me. I ran toward him, and flung myself into his embrace. He laughed and cradled me like a child, and whispered to me:
“It’s calling me away, Ophelia.”
“What’s that, father?”
“Don’t you hear it?” He asked, “Don’t you hear the lullaby?”
I began to feel fear.
“No, Father.”
I watched as his smile slipped away.
He spoke, very softly.
“Oh.”
And he crumbled to dust.
I’m sure Lucas will be pleased to hear about this dream, despite its meaning or content. I am willing to discuss it further when I arrive, but only after a period of rest.
Father’s passing has convinced me that post-graduate study is no longer necessary. We must take care of Father’s business and I must take up the mantle of responsibility. My studies will not end. Simply, move.
We have much work to do.
- Ophelia
* * *
Lucas' Journal #1: Ophelia’s finally home. Thank goodness. The manor is starting to feel whole again. Alistir and I have missed her dearly and we are glad she’s safe within the walls of our – her – home. I’m grateful that Father left her the manor and the business. Alistir and I can focus on our engineering and Ophelia can keep herself busy with managing the business and the house. Heavens know I’m useless when I must focus on making my own tea – let alone remembering to eat! Same with Alistir. I’m certain that if we did not have help, we’d simply starve to death in a dimly-lit corner of this house, as we’d forgotten to turn on a lamp!
Lucas' Journal #2: Ophelia and I both agreed that, after scrutinizing the vision of her dream, that Father’s ashes be kept in the greenhouse. I had forgotten to tell her that I was turning part of it into a conservatory, due to its lovely domed roof and how the moon sits just right at the equinox. It’s the perfect place to study the cosmos, if I do say so myself! I had a chance to show her the completed telescope. It was only blueprints on paper, the first time she’d seen it. I think Father will be glad to keep watch over it, in amongst the well-kept flora. Alistir ensured the garden’s upkeep, even as he worked his engineering prowess on my beloved telescope. Taking all that time from his own project, to focus on mine! He’s a good brother. I’m glad I’ve always been five minutes younger. Ophelia has settled up in the attic.
Lucas' Journal #3: Mother would be extremely disappointed in us. The arguments between Alistir and Ophelia have increased in intensity the last few weeks. She claims she hasn’t been able to focus on her work in the slightest since she took over the business and management of the manor house. She adamantly believes that Father did not leave everything to her due to practical capability or faith in her strength as leadership. Ophelia argues that Alistir and I had been granted the freedom to do anything we wanted with our time. Father knew that meant continuing his work. In his mania, he left her everything to the point of having nothing. While Father may have doubted Ophelia's strength, I do not, and have no doubt she’ll act if she desires it. I feel pity for her, but she is ruthless, and threatened our destitution if we didn’t start giving allowance for her to return to her chemistry. I explained to Alistir that she feels excluded. Promising that she would be the first to try the Projector once it was ready for testing seemed to abate her quarrel.
Lucas' Journal #4: There is absolutely nothing I can do to adequately describe what we have experienced. We’ve determined it’s not a shared hallucination. None were more taken by what we’ve seen than Ophelia. Alistir insists that we need to study what we’ve found, except only one of us can use the machine at a time. I’m not certain how that would be an effective possibility. We will have to document this in a joint log.
Lucas' Journal #5: It’s official. Bleier & Sons Electroforms has been sold. We’ve taken out a second mortgage on the manor house. Debts are paid. We’ll have just enough money to keep Ophelia alive and pay our rent at the waterfront until we leave. I’m not sure if Father would be disappointed or proud.
thelastglassalbatross [at] gmail.com
