The World in 2000 Years

by Georges Pellerin

  “Because that audacious speech has unleashed the storm that has been rumbling since the beginning of the session,” the savant said. “From every direction one hears nothing but shouting. ‘Order! Order! To the assemblies! To the assemblies!’

  “The President is shaking his bell in vain. The impassive orator confronts the tumult without flinching. A few representatives are advancing to the base of the podium, threatening him with their voices and gestures.

  “Taking advantage of a momentary calm, the orator continues: ‘Yes, gentlemen, words; I said it, and I repeat it.’ Further tumult, more shouting. ‘Words issued by vote and consecrated by usage, words that you erase as easily as you wrote them, words that are your work, but which you elevate to the status of a divinity. In deifying your work, you are deifying yourselves; in deifying yourselves you are forgetting that you are not infallible.’

  “The President leans toward the podium and replies, severely: ‘The law, Monsieur, represents the will of the nation, expressed by its representatives. Respect for the law is everyone’s security. No one here will allow it to be insulted.’

  “A thunder of bravos drowns out the President’s voice.

  “The representatives, electrified, are rushing the podium. They are tearing the impudent orator away from it, crying: ‘To the vote! Put the Ministry to the vote!’”

  Monsieur Landet paused again. He was waiting for the tempest to abate. Hobson, perceiving that the savant’s head was leaning over his shoulder under the pressure of the fluid, relieved the pressure in order that he could continue to the end of the session.

  “The representatives are writing their names on the voting papers,” Monsieur Landet continued. “They’re going to deposit them in the urn. The parliament is prey to a feverish agitation, but the right and the left are united with perfect accord. Only the ministers remain on their benches, bleak and depressed.

  “It’s the turn of the leader of the left to deposit his voting paper. The Chamber is noisy.

  “‘Gentlemen,’ says the President, ‘be the first to give an example of respect for the law, by respecting the individual.’

  “Immediately, everyone falls silent, as if by enchantment. The representatives go up and down. There is a continual ebb and flow. The last one is casting his vote. The count is being made...

  “…The President rises to his feet and says: ‘Gentlemen, the Ministry is dismissed, by 722 votes to one.’

  “At that moment, a Progressist climbs up to the podium, turns toward the leader and says: ‘We’ll meet again at the assemblies.’

  “The criticized leader bows his head. He has been defeated by a crushing majority. The Ministry’s fall is taking him down.

  “They pass on, then, to a vote on the Minister of Finance’s plan to create an annual payment of 4½%, redeemable in 30 years by expiration. It is adopted without any difficulty. Then the representatives retire noisily, unused to such incidents.

  “Now wake me up—I’m exhausted.”

  He had opened his eyes already. He threw himself upon the sheets of stenography avidly, and read them rapidly.

  “That’s exactly what I dreamed about!” he cried, enthusiastically. “A sovereign parliament, a Ministry in stewardship, a passive President.”

  “Dreamed, you say?”

  “Yes, dreamed—last night.”

  “That’s because, for a month, you’ve only woken up incompletely. Under the empire of a magnetic torpor, you’ve anticipated the somnambulistic state.”

  “Bah!”

  “I’m explaining your distraction, and the anxiety we’ve had regarding a brain seizure.”

  “Damnation!” said Monsieur Landet, singularly chilled. “Science is sublime, but life certainly has its charm!”

  The Popular Assemblies

  Monsieur Landet was only partly reassured when he parted company with the magnetizer. Who could tell whether the research on which he had embarked, with the aid of somnambulistic sleep, might eventually disturb his reason? Might his wretched carnal envelope, which he took pleasure in surrounding with the assiduous cares that only a perfect egoist could imagine, become confused with oblivion?

  What savant is not a perfect egoist? Study, in concentrating his intellectual faculties of a unique and constant object, with which he lives, so to speak, in a communion of the soul, ends up absorbing him, to the point of infecting him with a monomania that summarizes all his enjoyments and leads him to delight only in himself.

  Monsieur Landet, like all those who profess to possess strong minds, feared death more than anything else—although his speculations, cleverly deduced, had the gift of convincing his readers, they had not been succeeded in reassuring him with regard to human destiny after death.

  What if, out of all the religions that humans have invented, he sometimes said to himself, there is one that is true? He went on, however, in a consolatory manner: But there’s no need to think about that; the moment hasn’t yet arrived.

  Having returned home, still under the unfortunate impression of what Hobson had said, he occupied himself by having his secretary copy the stenographers’ work. When that was done, he went over it minutely, licking it into shape and polishing it with an artistic caress. He was so satisfied by it that he completely forgot the danger he was in, and started meditating on the effect that his book would have in intellectual society.

  Comforted by the whiff of glory that went to his head, he dined copiously, deigning to smile at some innocent wordplay by his secretary. Then he had himself taken to the Bois in order to dream at his ease, came home at about midnight and went to bed. He read the Journal des Savants distractedly for a while, and dropped off, to sleep the sleep of the just.

  Ten o’clock was chiming on a clock in the neighborhood when he woke up the next day. He dressed himself in a trice, and went into his study.

  He was expecting Hobson for lunch. What should he do until midday? Instinctively, he reread his secretary’s work and was overtaken by an invincible drowsiness.

  Hobson caught him struggling with that torpor. “Why, what’s the matter?” he asked.

  “Can you imagine, dear Master, that on re-reading the record of our last séance my head suddenly grew heavy? For an hour, now, I’ve been fighting to stay awake. I’m harassed, exhausted. It’s as if my joints were disarticulated.”

  Hobson burst out laughing. “It’s nothing, my dear savant, but a very common phenomenon, against which I forgot to forearm you. The attention that you put into re-reading that work has retraced in your mind the images presented to it during somnambulistic sleep, and that reading has produced the same effect on you as a magnetizer; you’re subject to magnetic influence.”

  “Another unwelcome discovery,” said the savant, slightly pale.

  “Don’t worry—there’s no danger. I’ll dispel the torpor; in five minutes, you’ll be ten years younger.”

  “Oh, if only you had that secret,” the savant sighed.

  “You’re very devoted to life, then?”

  “I don’t see that it’s so disagreeable, for someone who has money, fame and honors, for someone who knows how to find pleasure wherever the turn of his mind takes him.”

  “You’re talking as an egoist. Certainly, the person who is self-sufficient has no grounds to complain about life, unless physical infirmities render him a slave to malady, but anyone who has a heart, who finds his pleasure in that of others, who seeks happiness in love or friendship, experiences nothing but bitterness and disappointment—oh, people like that don’t complain about the brevity of life!”

  “That’s because they don’t reflect on the fable of ‘The Frogs Who Wanted a King.’16 By running after the unknown, one risks losing what one has; in uncertainty, ‘it’s better to have than to seek.’”

  So saying, Monsieur Landet placidly stretched his legs and made a grimace.

  “And I forgot to clear you!” exclaimed Hobson.

  He made a few full-body passes over the savant. The latter, relieved
of the burden that was weighing him down, got up, walked back and forth across the room, satisfied with his feeling of light.

  “Well, shall we begin?” he said.

  “Whenever you wish...”

  “Following yesterday’s incident in the Chamber,” the savant eventually began, “a proclamation has been issued immediately convening the eleventh district of Paris to meet in assemblies in order to pass judgment on the conduct of the representative, in default of his mandate, who had lent the support of his words to an illegal maneuver.

  “The session begins at one o’clock. The minister, elected by a provincial constituency, has returned there. Only the Progressist representative is at issue. Elected by the eleventh district, he belongs to that district.

  “He goes up to the podium. Silence immediately falls. The people of Paris have learned to listen before they condemn.

  “‘Gentlemen,’ says the accused—for he is one himself—‘this extraordinary assembly, which is to decide my fate, is under a legal obligation. The spontaneity that led me to support the Minister of Finance has, I can see, alienated me from the confidence of my electors. What, however, has been my parliamentary conduct during the two years that I have defended their interests? Representing the Progressist party, I have followed the program of my mandate on all occasions.

  “‘Whenever, in the Chamber, there was a matter of an amelioration to introduce into the State, a proposed law in favor of the development of commerce and industry, I have been the first to lend all the strength my influence and my feeble eloquence thereto. Today, something new is happening. The Monsieur of Finance, taking advantage of the parliamentary vacation, took it upon himself to modify the tax on income.

  “‘I was in such total agreement with the Minister of Finance that, yielding to my first impulse, seeing nothing but the general interest, neglecting the form to see nothing but the fundamental, I spoke in favor of the Minister. That is my crime. By lending my support to an arbitrary action, I admit, I broke the law—but should intelligent and enlightened people allow themselves to be guided by the spirit of routine? Besides, the law, infringed as to the letter, was not in principle, since the attempt was rewarded with success and the approval of the majority crowned the result while censuring the execution. You all share my opinion, and yet you condemn me!

  “‘Did I have an active part in this action? No. I did nothing but support a friend once the deed was done...’

  “‘It is precisely that for which you are being reproached.’ replies an anonymous voice.

  “‘I knew, gentlemen, in coming to this podium, that my cause was lost in advance. It is only out of deference to those who have honored me with their votes that I thought it my duty to explain my conduct. Today, I am expiating the sin of my frankness.’

  “A faint murmur is heard in the crowd.

  “An old man takes the orator’s place. ‘Gentlemen,’ he says, ‘I do not doubt the outcome of this debate for a moment. Victory will go to legality, I am convinced, although our representative has described it as routine. But before you render your verdict, I want to oppose my long experience to his impetuous fluency.

  “‘Where would we be without the law? What security would we have if an individual’s caprice could modify it at will, at the cost of explaining himself later? The State, surrendered to hazard, would sail under the impulsion of temporary passions; changing direction along with its pilot, it would inevitably be wrecked by a false maneuver. Crime, that infamous stigma of human imperfection, would no longer be the same for all; there would be nuances, according to position, and the work of many centuries would collapse in a matter of years. No, gentlemen; in all things there has to be a sanction, and that sanction must be the same for everyone; that is what constitutes its force. Without checks, a State is no longer possible; there are only agglomerations of individuals obedient to their base instincts—for the base instincts always prevail over the good ones when impunity favors them.

  “‘The law is, therefore, a necessity of our vicious nature, a guarantee of our repose, a condition of our happiness. In order to be respected, it must be executed. If its execution does not reassure the confidence of the country, if its representatives are the first to overstep its bounds, trust—that source of public prosperity—dies, struck at its foundation.

  “‘A representative invested with your authority has dared to defend an illegal action in a parliamentary session; he has dared to saw that the law is only words; he has betrayed his mandate; he is unworthy to represent you.

  “‘What does the question of form matter, he has asked, given that the act itself was ratified? The question of form is everything, since the form is the law. Elaborated by your representatives, the law has been confirmed by your annual assemblies; it is therefore your work; it is therefore you. To encourage its infraction is to insult the principle of national sovereignty.

  “‘I am prepared to believe that our representative is only guilty of imprudence, but whoever speaks without giving his thought the necessary maturity is dangerous. Animated by the finest sentiments, he is capable of doing much harm. For the sake of public security, the march of business and society, an example must be made.’

  “The notables deliberate between themselves and then invite the electors to decide by vote. The papers are distributed. Everyone deposits them in the urn, and the mayor, before the eyes of the entire audience, proceeds with the count.

  “The representative is dismissed by a unanimous vote.

  “The mayor then convenes a meeting of electors in a week’s time to choose a new representative, after which the crowd disperses silently.”

  “But in submitting representatives to the control of the annual assembly of their electors for the review,” Hobson objected, “and to the permanent control of that same assembly, convened in extraordinary session in case of a serious incident, their initiative is completely annihilated. Always feeling the sword of Damocles above their heads, caught in the mesh of their profession of faith, they dare not undertake anything important. People are only capable of great work when they have a free hand, unhindered by any apprehension. Otherwise, it is servitude by abuse of liberty.”

  “Error!” riposted the savant. “The representatives’ conduct is, indeed, limited by their mandate; everything they do, outside of that mandate, exposes them to the severity of their electors. That’s true—but who is at fault? They are. Before accepting a candidature, let them broaden the frame of their program, let them ripen their plans, let them weigh the pros and cons, let them only put forward their strongest opinions.

  “Once nominated, the route is quite simple, they only have to follow it within the latitude they have reserved for it. What you take for an obstacle is, on the contrary, an effective means of eliminating from candidature all those who see it as nothing but an objective of personal ambition. No more hypocritical proclamations, no more hidden agendas, no more ambiguous promises: a clear, concise reasoned program. If, in drawing it up, the candidate allows himself to be guided by conviction, he is sure never to deviate from it, and the annual assemblies become merely a legal formality for him. He has no reason to be afraid of extraordinary assemblies.

  “Above all, the law must be precise. The few good dispositions a society shows to ameliorate itself will only be honest in so far as they are enforced. One of the numerous faults of our vicious nature is to seek subterfuges everywhere.

  “The more I study these sage institutions, the more I see them as a precious lesson for modern society. But that which is so naturally adapted to a society matured by the 20 centuries that separates us from them is not applicable to ours. Destiny holds the thread of events in its hand, and only unreels it according to the order engraved in its immutable book.

  “God has willed that his work, before acquiring the degree of perfection he has assigned to it, should pass through the slow purification of centuries, because the errors advertised by the different human generations form the experience of the following g
enerations.

  “Today, we are still in a state of ferment. The epoch we have just inaugurated is only just beginning to lay its foundations; 6000 years have brought us to this stage, some say; 2000 more will lead us to the new era I am glimpsing.

  “Among other laws worthy of attention there is one that concerns the accumulation of administrative functions. Anyone, says the text of this law, who occupies a position in one of the administrative sections cannot occupy another in another section. He must devote himself entirely to that which is entrusted to him, and for which he receives recompense, according to a hierarchical grade. The accumulation of functions is therefore formally prohibited, given that in accepting several entails stealing time from one employment that is devoted to another and the salary thereof.

  “It will be a long time before that useful reform will be introduced here. Governments have every interest in maintaining an institution that places them at the head of all the agencies directing the country. Administrative functions—I’m talking here about the most important—are accorded by grace and favor, rarely on merit; when they originate from a vote, they are due to intrigue and corruption. They are shared among those who are already overloaded by them, for the same reason that they are overloaded. Thus, a representative is, simultaneously, the mayor of his district, or sometimes a foreign ambassador; a senator is a general in command of an army division, or the governor of an overseas colony. Can the representative represent his electors, discuss their interests and participate in votes while he is safeguarding the interests of his country with the government to which he is accredited? Can he administer the district of which he is mayor while he is sitting in parliament? Can he be present everywhere at all times? Can he carry out conscientiously the various functions invested in him? It is evident that the time he devotes to one is prejudicial to the other, and yet he has one or several, according to the total number that have to be neglected. The senator who, in his capacity as a general, is in command of an army in the provinces, is too occupied with his general quarters to sit in the Senate; he only goes there at rare intervals. As for the governor of a distant colony, the distance he has to cover makes it a absolute impossibility.