A considerable event completed the rout of the former opposition. The deceased Queen Victoria and the Grand Old Man Mr. Gladstone appeared almost at the same time. The existing ministry collapsed. The following day, the new era was officially recognized.
JOURNAL DES ECONOMISTES
October 1, Year 1
It is time!
Now that no doubt is any longer possible regarding the astonishing and providential reversal of the former progression of things, it is up to us to explain in a few words the reasons for which humankind, on the threshold of new times, ought greatly to rejoice in the immense event!
It is time! The overpopulated world glimpsed the imminent moment when space to accommodate human beings would run out, the fatal and ineluctable moment when the Earth, exhausted by ceaseless and relentless overproduction, would find itself powerless to nourish the swarm incessantly accrued by the flow of generations, by the multiplying hordes whose legitimate appetites could only become more and more difficult to satisfy. The law of the struggle for life14 has always been imposed on humankind, but how the sorrows and difficulties of the harsh combat have increased in the 19th century! Previously, human beings had latitude, continents to discover and exploit; now, the last unknown deserts and continents of the Earth have yielded their secrets and resources and humans, too numerous at the feast, find nothing more before them; the Earth will no longer be anything but a vast raft prey to distress and famine.
It is time! Our Old Europe, of 80 million inhabitants in 1800, has passed 350 million, crowded and heaped up in our poor little corner. Had the increase continued at the same rate, its population at the end of the 20th century would have been the fabulous figure of 1500 millions, fatally destined to attack one another and to devour one another to obtain their daily bread! All other questions and political struggles would have become insoluble once absorbed into the sole concern of the preponderance of people or races, and no civilization or social order would have been able to hold up under the terrible pressure of hunger. With America overflowing in its turn, and new or forgotten nations created in the former desert lands or reformed in the depths of exhausted continents….
It is time! This backward return is salvation; it is the abrupt and total end put by Providence to the frightful multiplication!
It is time!
CHAPTER VII
The New Progression of Life Imports a Few Problems
To the Former Constitution of the Family
The most surprising of all the changes associated with the unexpected reversal of former natural laws, and perhaps the most considerable in its consequences, was that fathers now arrived in life after their sons. Who, in the old world, could ever have supposed that the constitution of the family might be so radically modified?
Feminist ideologists and socialists, in their amiable proposals of societies governed by the rules of central houses, and anarchists of a more brutal stripe, had been able to dream of changes, but even in their craziest conceptions and most audacious inversions of the whole of social life—to employ their gentle terminology—they had never dreamed of the formidable familial revolution that nature suddenly accomplished.
Despite the solemn declarations of the International Congress, the indisputable observations of the scientists and the official sanction of all the academies, several months went by before the truth was accepted by everyone and all nations had consented to admit that the Earth and time had turned backwards. In order for everyone to be fully convinced, and the final doubts cleared away, it was necessary for the orderly rejuvenation to become visibly and undeniably part of everyone’s personal experience.
Many people protested for a long time; obstinate scientists raised every conceivable quibble before yielding to the understanding that Nature, inexhaustible in her incredible variety with regard to forms of life, was able to import the same diversity into her means. Unity, diversity, fecundity! What had once been could be again After all, Nature is as phenomenal as rebirth, if not more so.
This return to life, the re-entry of ancestors upon the scene, brought astonishing modifications to families, as we have said, and transformed their ancient organization from top to bottom. If it caused profound stupefaction among sons, how much greater was the burden of astonishment and trouble for fathers! What transports of joy they felt, at first, on returning to the old world and finding their families again! Moments of indescribable delight! Nothing was finished; everything was beginning again, in the reverse direction. But what emotions and reflections followed, when they had finished clasping the families that had believed to be lost forever in their arms, and began to relive their former days?
Ah, what inversions of the soul, what powerful salutary motives and profound reflections, and what abysms of reminiscence, often bitter and painful!
How many aspects of their former existence might have been modified, doubtless for the better, if they had been able to foresee these second meetings of fathers and sons, in absolutely reversed conditions! Many of these new passengers embarked upon a second voyage through life arrived, however, with brains that had become almost new in repose, and from which old impressions seemed to have been somewhat effaced. They only retained confused ideas and memories of their former adventures. The sponge had passed over the slate. Almost everything had become new to them again. They came back open to all astonishment, as to all hope.
Everything having begun again in this manner, the Earth would see all its children again, generation after generation. That was the preoccupation of everyone in the world, simple people as well as thinkers and scientists; it was the concern of politics and statesmen, of those people who had the pretension of guiding the destinies of nations—the only kind of work that too often adulterates and poisons one’s true aspirations. It generated hope for those vanquished races which had known better days in the past, and was the subject of interminable dissertations from the various academies, which found ample material therein for intensely interesting studies of every sort.
Everything began again—but, just as human beings had previously lived in ignorance of their end, now that the wheels and hands of the clock of the centuries were turning backwards, humankind was moving towards its beginning, of which it was largely ignorant—a fortunate uncertainty that let life retain all its interest and all its savor.
It goes without saying that there were discussions everywhere, endless and exhaustive, on the question of whether the new course of life presented more advantages to individuals and society or whether the former mode of life as preferable; increasingly, though, people were obliged to perceive that the new progression of things was incomparably superior to the former order in every way, and presented immense advantages from every viewpoint, individual or social.
How often, formerly—O blasphemy!—had people, faced with certain triumphs, doubted eternal justice? They had been in too much of a hurry. To wait patiently would have been sufficient.
Certainly, at present, all this immense change is not proceeding without a few petty inconveniences, general and particular. The new life brings everyone new anxieties, trivial or serious, reveals difficulties of every order, innumerable and unforeseen. The abrupt backward shift inconveniences certain ostentatious and pretentious rich individuals whose carefully-concealed origins have now been exposed by the reappearance of ancestors who are hardly resplendent: frauds, or even bawds!
As it is human nature to worry about the future, even when that future is the past in the process of re-emerging, people have became acquainted with a new kind of torment: “I know that I had a father besotted with such and such ideas, or a grandfather who once did this or that,” the anxious head of a family says to himself; “what spanners will these ancestors throw into the works of my plans when they come back?”
On the other hand, what of the prodigal fathers who consumed all their families’ fortunes, reducing them to penury, or those who departed having done their legitimate heirs the bad turn of disinheriting them? How will the
y be received?
Another consequence of the new state of things is the changing of tastes and ideas, which was easy to observe after a certain passage of time. It happened slowly, but it is understandable that the returning generation brought back its ancient preferences, and that it was found to be disposed to criticize those of the generation that succeeded it, taking issue with the greater number of its ideas. That was a delicate issue.
Robert Laforcade and his wife no longer had the definitively broken home, culminating in separation, whose misery and desperation we saw at the beginning of this story. The great upheaval had swept away their divorce proceedings, and since then, every passing season and year had brought about a sensible amelioration in their conjugal relations. They were now asking themselves how they had ever been able to reach the point of wanting to put 50,000 leagues between them, and by what aberration their two minds had coldly settled one day upon the urgent necessity of a divorce.
Following the same unfortunate course in a reverse direction, the desire to divorce had faded into a simple coldness, then to petty annoyances over points of susceptibility; stage by stage, they had now arrived, quite simply, at perfect tranquility and mutual understanding—thus providing striking proof that, in this humble world, everything sorts itself out in the end. People used to say that before, but how much more certain it is now!
Robert Laforcade is no longer the wealthy businessman he was before. His business it must be admitted, is going quite slowly. Industry suffered a violent crisis, and everyone is feeling its consequences. Quite naturally, the inclination of the Laforcade household is now modest. This mediocrity has at least had the effect of moderating Berthe’s appetite for social life, and Robert is glad of it.
Oh, we must not forget to mention that Robert is no more than 35 and Berthe scarcely 28 or 29. Thus the world proceeds, getting younger every day. This evening, after the family dinner, Robert is chatting about the day’s trivial events with his father and grandfather, installed in armchairs facing one another on either side of the heath in the drawing-room. Yes, his father and his grandfather! His father, you will recall, was born, or reborn, on the evening when the illustrious Doctor Montarcy announced the reversal of time at the Investigative Congress, and his grandfather returned 18 months later—considerably in advance of the time at which he might have been expected—one of those numerous abnormal cases whose frequency was causing Montarcy and the entire scientific world particular concern.
“Well,” said Monsieur Laforcade the father, “what’s new? Anything much?”
“No,” Robert replied. “The question of the advance is still filling the newspapers. Everyone’s wasting their breath squabbling over the question of whether it’s 30 or 40 years. Monsieur Montarcy is proposing the establishment of another big commission of inquiry…”
“What for?”
“He thinks that it’s not a matter of a regular advance of 30 or 40 years, but a residue of troubles caused by setting the new situation of the world in motion. I’ve read his article in the Revue on ‘Temporal Flux and Reflux.’ He explains it quite well and declares, moreover, that everything will gradually sort itself out. According to him, there’s no cause for anxiety. Everything indicates that we’ll no longer see excessively pressurized generations arriving prematurely, all at the same time, bumping into one another, as timorous and alarmist scientists are trying to make us fear… Each one will have its turn, and that’s all to the good!”
“You’re not saying that because of me, are you?” said the grandfather, in a piqued tone.
“Of course not, grandfather—how could you think such a thing?” cried Madame Laforcade.
“It’s because we’ve had a little discussion,” said father Laforcade. “Your grandfather seems to be convinced that we weren’t looking forward to his arrival and have been sighing every since he came back on the scene.”
“Certainly,” said the grandfather. “I need to remake the family fortune, which isn’t brilliant, you must admit! Here’s Robert, a pleasant fellow and a fine engineer, I grant you, but nor practical, too wrapped up in follies, utopias, dreams… All his stories of electricity, his ridiculous locomotive machines, frightful glorified saucepans shuddering and making an infernal racket, which will end up smashing people into pieces, whether they’re inside or underneath! I’ve seen them! They’ll never work! They’ll all end up in the scrap-yard!”
“But I assure you that they work quite well, grandfather! Tastes have changed. People were horror-stricken…”
“Exactly!” said father Laforcade. “I think it’s as abominable and as impractical as those other machines that you tried to explain to me—that unbearable telephone, which tortures people with its perpetual drin drins and makes people ill, costing far more time in migraines and fits of exasperation than it claims to save! You’d do well to let go of that stupidity, good at best for amusing children—like that other bizarre plaything that you made me listen to, the phonograph!”
“You’re exaggerating, I assure you. I don’t want to defend those inventions, but I can recall once having been very enthusiastic about them myself. It’s curious how tastes change; my enthusiasm has dissipated, but it’s necessary nevertheless not to exaggerate the inconveniences. One no longer hears talk of that nowadays; a truly extraordinary modification has been produced in ideas and tastes… I can’t imagine what has caused it.”
“It’s our return, of course—a sane and reasonable generation,” said father Laforcade.
“One moment,” said the grandfather, with a gesture of protest. “The sane and reasonable generation is mine. Serious consideration necessitates the conclusion is that it was on our departure that the stupidities began.”
“I beg your pardon, father, but you’re exaggerating again. I venture to say that our generation does not deserve your blame; we marched reasonably along the road of Progress. While you were a little difficult to set in motion, we marched steadily, but not precipitately, without racing madly and impetuously ahead like those who succeeded us. It’s not our fault that they brought haste, fever, enervation and mortal overwork into the world…”
“Let’s not argue about it. It’s quite natural that we should prefer our sane ideas and calmer habits to your absurd audacity and all your machinery, electrical or otherwise, which is complicated, pretentious, troublesome and murderous, and in which we can see no value!”
“I’ll settle the dispute,” said a new voice.
Everyone turned round. It was the Academician Palluel who had come into the room, followed by a boy 13 or 14 years old, of rather bizarre appearance, short and fat, wearing clothes that were too large for him.
“Sit down there,” said Palluel, placing the young man in a corner. “Stay calm, and don’t speak unless someone asks you a question.”
“Yes, uncle.”
“Good evening, dear Madame, how are you doing? Admirably, that’s evident. One can no longer say to ladies every time one sees the that they’re looking younger and fresher than ever; it’s no longer a compliment but a banal truth! I recommend, however, that you do not do what I am doing; don’t be too hasty in rejuvenation—for I honestly fear that I am proceeding too briskly!”
It is true that the old writer had changed a great deal, not only since the already distant day when we saw him, at the end of the old era, despairing in his cold and lugubrious mansard, but also since the day when Montarcy had announced the great news at the Investigative Congress. Now, the outmoded poet and former academician seemed to be 50 at most; his white hair was in the process of taking on a reddish tint, irrepressible and rebellious, and his beard was spreading magnificently over a flower-patterned waistcoat.
“Now then, you three generations of Laforcades are busy quarreling with one another? If I understood rightly as I came in, it seems to me that it’s a matter of establishing which of the three epochs that you represent was the furthest developed in mental alienation, the absurdity of high pretensions and unhealthy hullabaloo. The a
nswer is not in doubt; it’s the last! It had the means of going even further, to the extent that the Supreme Technician, to borrow a phrase from the illustrious Montarcy, renounced it and decided to make the machine run backwards. We are all in agreement as to that, as the youngest Laforcade will acknowledge.”
CHAPTER VIII
Backwards: The Journal of True Progress
Grandfather Laforcade smiled and clapped the poet on the shoulder. “This young man, at least, has the measure of his epoch!” he said. “Since my return, my dear sir, you’re the only person I’ve met with reasonable ideas. Perhaps you can give me some advice. Tell me, are you in industry, or commerce? My son introduced us the other day, but my memory is still a little vague…”
“I am a jeweler of sonorous epithets,” Palluel declared. “An enameller in partitioned stanzas enriched with brilliant rhymes!”
“I beg your pardon?”
“A poet. Let it be said simply, without wishing to humiliate you.”
“See, grandfather—that was perfectly obvious,” said Robert, laughing.
“And what can I do for you, my dear sir, by way of advice?” Palluel went on, seriously.
“I don’t know if I should take the risk. Well, on the off chance, can you advise me about sugar and oil?”
“Sugar? Oil?” said Palluel, slightly taken aback. “Is it for coffee or salad?”
“Am I mistaken? Are you no more serious that the others? I’m talking about oil, sugar, cotton, leather, iron… Where’s the best place to make money? Flour, perhaps?”
“Why ask me?”
“My dear sir, you’re a member of the family. Aren’t you the son of my second cousin Palluel, my comrade of 1825? I can talk frankly in front of you, then. Well, I have an urgent need to get back into business, as soon as possible—its very urgent! Here’s my grandson Robert, whose financial situation isn’t brilliant, you know. I can see that it’s getting worse every day, with their stupid electrical devices and their frightful steam engines, without taking into account the fact that he’ll be an adolescent before long, and the responsibility of his parents…and children are expensive! Now here’s my son Edouard, who wasn’t outstandingly successful in his time; he gives me cause for anxiety too. He has a little manufacturing business that’s not very brilliant….”
The Clock of the Centuries Page 11
