On the Brink of the World's End

by Brian Stableford

  The carriage that was carrying me had already left the little town from which it had brought me some way behind when an event finally extracted me from my profound torpor. The landlord, having discovered his tenant’s flight, arrived very rapidly, shouting and striving to extract from the vehicle the only guarantees of his rent. The owner of the furniture did his best to defend it with a great deal of ardor.

  During that cruel conflict, I felt my head so violently bumped that, believing that I had received a blow from the fist of my anti-Attractionary Physicist, I got up furiously, in order to make a response that was no less striking. In leaping to my feet, however, instead of the Physicist, I knocked over the landlord, who was getting ready to remove the mattress on which I was lying. Uttering a frightful cry, he got up again and took flight, along with his adversary. My sudden and unexpected appearance, the prevailing darkness and my gigantic stature by comparison with that of the inhabitants of the Moon, which does not exceed four feet,8 had easily made them believe that I was at least a phantom, if I was not a Devil.

  Oh, with what astonishment I was gripped by the sight of so many extraordinary things, and how the memory of my aerial voyage was rendered more extraordinary still!

  Am I still in the air? I wondered. How did I fall without feeling it? And how do I come to be on this cart? Why was I asleep? Why, on awakening did I frighten those two little men so much?

  I suspected that I was still asleep; I even doubted that I existed.

  Where am I? Is this Montmartre or Gonesse?9 Alas, I can no longer see the Seine! I can no longer see the towers of Notre-Dame. Perhaps I’m in China, or even in the land of dwarfs to which Gulliver once traveled. The small stature of the men I’ve seen seems to incline me to think so. (A Physicist is not obliged to be a perfect Geographer.)

  That suspicion appeared to me to be confirmed when, seeking to get down from the vehicle, my hand naturally fell upon a small human figure, which I immediately took for an inhabitant of the country. As it was making no movement I thought I had stifled the individual, but I soon recovered from my error when I perceived, by courtesy of the dawn that was beginning to break, that it was only a marionette.

  I had scarcely recovered from my astonishment when I perceived one of my little men in the distance. I employed voice and gesture to reassure him and invite him to join me. He approached, but it was with the slowness that fear imparts. Less timid, however, than his adversary, who did not reappear, he accosted me, albeit tremulously. I greeted him so amicably that he was no longer afraid, and we went on together.

  III. Sequel to the preceding.

  The furniture and the vehicle belonged to him. He soon got used to me. In my capacity as a Physicist I attempted to seek his heart in his face, but it appeared to me to be indecipherable, so vague was its expression. It resembled the physiognomy of those honest rogues and schemers in whom the habit of masking their knavery entirely effaces the characteristic features of their visage. Once one knew a man by his face, nowadays, a species of hypocrisy known as politeness has completely obscured the mirror of the soul.

  The idiom of that region of the Moon, if one excepts the scant usage that is made of consonants, has much in common with the French language; with a little study, I soon succeeded in speaking and understanding it. It was then that my curiosity was assuaged by an infinity of questions of all kinds.

  I learned that my traveling companion was the director of a troupe of wooden actors, known in France as marionettes. I learned, by means of the story of his change and residence and nocturnal flight, how I had been able to fall and how I had come to find myself in the vehicle. Nor did I forget to enquire as to whether universal attraction was as clearly demonstrated to the Physicists of the Moon as it is to those of the Earth. As he did not make me any satisfactory reply on that subject, I consoled myself by questioning him about the mores and customs of his land.

  “In truth,” he replied, “although I have lived in high society I have not made a record of those things , but what I would have more pleasure in recounting to you, which would answer the majority of your questions, is my story.”

  The estate of the man, his comfortable manners, which announced that he had once held a more distinguished rank, and his tone of frankness and insouciance, almost always accompanied by a philosophical gravity, caused me to judge that the story in question might contain piquant features. I listened to him.

  He began thus:

  IV. The Marionette Man’s Story

  I am the son of an honest laborer, an inhabitant of a village situated on the border of a neighboring realm. I might have been happy if my father had taught me the ancient and respectable art of cultivating the field of his ancestors; I would then have been ignorant of the enjoyments of vainglory and the tortures consequent upon it. I would have conserved my name, Kirkerdorf, which I abandoned in order to take that of Oë. Unfortunately, I was able to read and write at an early age, and, persuaded by the Magister of my village that I was a child of genius, I directed my ambition toward the capital of this realm.

  There I was in a new world, seeking to understand the customs and manners that, in this country, are sciences of the foremost necessity. I soon perceived that the different fashions of societies can be reduced to three or four sorts, at the most. Be able to adopt, in appropriate circumstances, the mask of foolishness, hypocrisy or importance, and you possess the cardinal points of the means of success. Every society demands that one plays one of those characters, but in order that there should never be an error and that one should not take one role for another, I think that it would not be bad if one were to find in every antechamber the mask of the character of the house. One day, I would like to write a long book about the utility of such a custom.

  I spared neither travels nor efforts in order to put myself on the road to fortune. After several futile endeavors I was advised to present myself to a Great Man of the century, a protector of young men revered as a sage, an Apostle of Humanity and, in sum, a kind of Patriarch of Philosophy. I declared to him that I knew Ancient Languages, History, Geography and Mathematics. I was almost completely ignorant of all those sciences, but I had been assured that in such circumstances, the means of making a rapid fortune was to lie brazenly.

  Without any other examination, the Great Man replied to me in a pedantically honeyed tone: “I am sorry not to be able to be of any utility to you, but the circle of your knowledge is too circumscribed.”

  I presented myself to a man who was the Counsel of all men with projects, whose sentiment was always preponderant. He had once been the leader of a party and was in despair at seeing that, for a long time, he was no longer in fashion.

  I said to him, following my custom: “I know Ancient Languages, History, Geography and Mathematics.”

  “You only know that?” said my new Protector, coldly. “Can you not copy the manners of an imbecile, of a simpleton, and amuse all the Lords of the Court by imitating the conversation of a Porter? Or if you could bark like a dog—that is what is known as imitating beautiful nature. If you could eat stones, swallow daggers or razors?”10

  “In truth, no, Monsieur.”

  “Can you read cards, tell the fortunes of our coquettes? If, by chance you have eyes good enough to see through twenty feet of earth or see as clearly in the dark as in broad daylight?”11

  “No, Monsieur.”

  “Well then, write Vaudevilles or bad Tragedies. I can see no other way for you to get out of difficulty.”

  “I don’t believe I’m able to do any of those things.”

  “I’m sorry, but you’re ignorant of everything that leads to fortune.”

  Ashamed, I took my leave of that terrible man, saying to myself: No one told me about that. I am very ignorant, then? That was not what the Magister of my village told me, however.

  A few days later I was introduced to a banal protector. He was a unique man for resources; he possessed, to the extent that it is possible, the marvelous talent of commanding the cap
rices of fortune; he created favorites, he was the dispenser of graces. By means of his secret, one flatfoot had become a powerful Financier, another a Minister, others a poet of the beauties of the antechamber, a grave individual, a genius of the first order. He was a great man.

  “I know,” I said to him, “Ancient Languages, History, Geography and Mathematics.”

  “That has nothing to do with it,” he replied. “Just tell me what position would suit you best.”

  At that unexpected question, I felt penetrated by the keen joy that the hope of happiness gives. I’m going to cease to be miserable, then, I told himself. Fortune has tired of persecuting me.

  My Magister had told me that I was made to distinguish myself in the world. In that agreeable persuasion I thought that it was appropriate to display my frankness, by confessing right away that I did not know how to counterfeit the manners of a porter, that my eyes were not good enough to see twenty feet underground, and that I was absolutely ignorant of the useful art of reading cards.

  “That might have had its advantages,” he replied, “but it’s a question now of knowing what position you desire. Is it in Finance?”

  “Oh yes, in Finance; that is surely the high road to fortune.”

  “Well, I have one all ready and I promise it to you.”

  I did not know how to thank my benefactor; I was prodigal, as is usual, with words of obligation and gratitude.

  “You’re quite right,” he told me, “for it’s an excellent position; before long, I see you with a carriage that will splash the entire world, exceedingly insolent lackeys, and a mistress whose sumptuousness will efface all the ladies of the Court.”

  “Oh, Monsieur!” I exclaimed, transported by joy. “How can one recognize such a generous service?”

  “With ten thousand pieces of gold,” he replied, “which you will give me, and I guarantee that your fortune will be made. It’s not too much, in truth, if you consider what it will be necessary for me to give to secretaries, valets, and the mistresses of both—do you imagine that after that I’ll have much left?”

  Scarcely had he finished than I took my leave, ashamedly, in despair at not having ten thousand pieces of gold for the secretaries, the lackeys and the mistresses, in order to become a great Lord at a stroke.

  Finally, I had to go to men with projects, who, in making me glimpse a brilliant fortune from afar, completed removing the little that remained to me, and stealing the price of my labor. I became poor, and, in consequence, scorned.

  I still had the noble pride that elevates the soul of the unfortunate man and consoles him, but that fruitless virtue succumbed by degrees to the afflictions of need. I acquired debts, I broke my promises, I accustomed myself to borrowing, and my face was insensibly armored against the darts of my creditors.

  Gambling offered me resources; my scruples were diminished thereby; I became a cheat, as is usual, and I made a fortune. I became important; I was a gallant man; I was cherished and idolized; I had gold.

  The consideration that the possession of that metal gives was not yet sufficient for my ambition; I wanted to merit the esteem of a few honest men. I knew that for that, it was necessary to be the husband of a very coquettish, very gallant and very amiable woman. I had no difficulty finding one who had all those social virtues to an eminent degree. My chaste spouse, who did the honors of her house very well, became for me an inexhaustible source of honor and wealth.

  Having had for some time, in the mind of the best society, the reputation of an important person, the whim took me to become one. My wife, all of whose caprices I let pass with a good heart, willingly granted me that one. I therefore set myself at the head of making projects, of changing the face of things and renewing the Administration. With the aid of an intelligence that I hired, I wrote pompous Prospectuses and admirable Memoirs, in favor of which I went to the Great in quest of applause and subscriptions.12

  Everything went as I desired; my project was miraculous, divine and inconceivable, no one had any idea of it; that is what was said in good company. I was a vast genius, a profound man; it was sufficient to name me to make a eulogy of my Works; that was what the majority of the newspapers said.

  Nothing is more easily convinced than self-esteem; I had no difficulty in believing myself to be endowed with all the good qualities with which I was gratified. It was then that it was necessary for me to put on an entire philosophical exterior: a sententious and reserved tone, a distracted and occupied manner, simple attire, a grave tread, eyebrows always furrowed; nothing was neglected. When I opened my mouth it was to talk about beneficence, justice, the happiness of peoples and humankind. You can see that I was a philosopher of the finest carat, so my glory was complete and my reputation reached its highest phase.

  “That surprises you,” my traveling companion said, on seeing me smile. “You’re astonished to see that having played such a great role among men, I’m reduced to playing such a small one with marionettes! That’s the law of fate.”

  As he finished that speech, we arrived in a town, where we spent the night. The next day, we continued our journey toward the capital of the realm, and Oë continued his story as follows:

  V. Continuation of Oë’s Story

  O inconstancy of things of this world! Was it necessary that the great philosopher that I was should be reduced to throwing his furniture out of a window in order to avoid paying the rent? Was it necessary that a genius capable of indoctrinating an entire people should be forced to direct marionettes? You shall see how that happened to me.

  Abundance, successes and consideration crowned my complaisance for my faithful wife; she was my sole resource. As soon as I tried to oppose her disorders, quarrels and perfidies, scorn and misery became the fruits of my reform.

  The customary funds were lacking; my works experienced delays; I broke my word. My collaborators were no longer paid, my subscribers were murmuring. Gradually, I lost their confidence and the consideration that I had acquired. People took advantage of that momentary distress to bring to light my conduct, my charlatanism and my incapacity. I was doomed, without resource.

  It was then that my philosophy inspired me with a simple means of getting myself out of that predicament. My wife had a great many valuable jewels—between us, they were the product of favors she placed at honest interest in the hands of her lovers. By virtue of a perfectly natural reasoning, I concluded that I had an incontestable right to those jewels; in consequence of that right, I took advantage of a favorable night to remove all the most precious ones she had and I departed very swiftly, abandoning my projects, my wife and my disastrous affairs, as one abandons a bad habit of which one rids oneself for the last time.

  I arrived in the capital of a neighboring real, where I initially put on a pompous display. Then I embarked on extravagant projects, very difficult to carry out; in spite of that, they were not welcomed. I perceived, a little belatedly, that I was no longer in my homeland; the national character was quite different.

  Eventually, my funds ran out, and my ambition with them. I was only too glad to acquire from an operator of marionettes, who had made a considerable fortune, his wooden actors, his portable theater and the stock of his dramatic Works. The inhabitants of that country had a decided taste for spectacles: cock-fighting and brawling charmed them infinitely, as well as scenes in which the executioner played the principal role. I put the inclinations of the people to profit; I wrote new plays, and held the inhabitants up to ridicule with my marionettes; when pleasantries are general in import, they please all individuals.

  At first I only had spectators among the rabble, but one day, the maidservant of a kept woman honored my spectacle with her presence, and my affairs took on a more advantageous aspect. Charmed by the witticisms, puns and lewd equivocations that my wooden actors produced, the girl assured her mistress that my spectacle was charming and divine. The kept woman, the principal tenant of her charms, her friend, her dressmaker, her seamstress, her hairdresser and her priest—o
ne might even say her parrot—were persuaded after half an hour that I was an astonishing man for marionettes; that was what each of those individuals assured a hundred others. My reputation spread in such a manner that by the end of the day a large fraction of the inhabitants knew that I was a prodigy.

  My glory was brilliantly sustained; I became the man of the moment. People talked about nothing but me, and dressed in accordance with my example. I was engraved and sculpted; my portrait feature alongside those of Great Men and the heroes of the nation. That is how reputations are made.

  (I interrupted my storyteller to tell him that it was the same on Earth.)

  Glory makes enemies, Oë continued. A heap of men starved of reputation wanted to diminish mine, and published pamphlets and epigrams of all kinds against me. They claimed that my marionettes did not imitate beautiful nature, that their faces lacked soul and expression, and a thousand other calumnies of that sort, which only served to increase my renown.

  It was then that a performer of pirouettes caused all heads to turn in his direction; no man had ever pirouetted with so much genius. The novelty removed the favor of the public from me; I was forgotten. The efforts that I made to compete with my adversary drew me into ruinous expenditure, which did not bring me any success, but a great deal of ridicule and scorn. I was no longer fashionable.

  Too proud to display my defeat after such a fine triumph, I made the decision to abandon that country to return to my dear homeland, where genius as fecund as mine never lacks resources. I initially arrived in that small town to which Heaven sent you expressly, I believe, to save me from the persecutions of my creditor, whom my misfortunes obliged me to quit without paying.

  Having finished his story, Oë questioned me ardently about the event of my voyage; I replied that I would not delay long in satisfying his curiosity, and we continued our route.