Notes

 

 

On The Preface

A fragment of the preface was published, etc.

This was in the Gazette littéraire of February 17, 1831.

I have thought for a long time that, in this century so fertile in bold literary ventures, historical systematizations and religious and social creations, some sort of register of hypotheses ought to be established for the conservation of ideas. I was very interested in that notion, having wanted to fix dates for and stake claims to a few ideas, half-ideas or quarter-ideas of my own—for I believe that I have as many as the next man. While awaiting that useful institution, however, newspapers and reviews supply the need to a certain extent.

It was in this spirit that I attempted, in the year of grace 1822, to be the French Walter Scott; then, after having published scraps here and there, calmly went to sleep on it, without claiming any patent of invention but merely an import license. Fortunately, others exploited that mine with more success than I would have had.

About 1828, I thought I had a new half-idea and set out to apply the methods of Water Scott to Antiquity; I wanted to display the Greeks and Romans, not booted in tragedy 71 but speaking and acting as one may suppose that they spoke and acted in life. Before going to sleep completely on that half-idea, I fortunately took it into my head to publish a few fragments of Roman drama in literary reviews and magazines towards the end of 1830. It was just in time, for something similar appeared soon afterwards with precisely the same subject. If, by chance, it was not me who had given birth to the idea, at least I retain the mild satisfaction of being able to exhibit that I had it, entirely and independently (save for Ben Jonson).

In the same era, around 1829, I was witness to experiments in magnetism: I undertook some of them myself in order to dispel my doubts, which came exceedingly close to incredulity. I was convinced. I thought I had a quarter of an idea, which was to introduce magnetism into the arts and literature, as a poetic and dramatic element; but I learned that Germany was ahead of me, and I son read a very interesting novella by Monsieur Zschokke,72 in which the somnambulistic state plays a leading role. Even so, I hastened to divulge my quarter-idea by way of the press, but the time to apply it had not yet come, so much prejudice against magnetism being widespread in France. I contented myself with risking, at a later date, by way of a trial, a little magnetic and romantic scene, which was published in several collections. Now that the incredulity of worldly people has entirely yielded to the striking nature and quantity of proofs, I see with great pleasure that literature is taking possession of this marvelous wellspring of emotions and interest.

But the novel of the future, that idea—half- or quarter-, if you wish—which has been running through my head for a dozen years or so, tormented me much more! I published a fragment of the preface without having written a line of the book, for fear of being anticipated; I was very anxious to put enough on record to fix a date but not to reveal my plan. And on that too I went to sleep… but the sleep was a veritable nightmare: I could not read the slightest sentence that touched upon my idea, however remote the approach might be, without trembling at the thought that someone might trap the poor idea and put it to profitable use before me. The mere mention of the word future made me shiver. That state of mind was intolerable; if it had continued I would be dead and my book sunk. Subject to continual frights and an extraordinary sloth, I fought a violent struggle… the sloth has been vanquished (so much the worse for the public, some might say) and the book has been written in 20 days. Time has not put the matter to rest.

I do not believe that anyone can make his literary confession more candidly: it is a little footnote on the tribulations of an idler who, if he is doing nothing, is at least not like the gardener’s dog, and is pleased to do justice to those who will act in his stead. Even so, he does not wish to fall completely into oblivion. This is also an explanation and an excuse, which I ought to make for the incomplete publication of this work, which evidently lacks a second part.

I beg pardon for having spoken at such lengths about matters of considerable indifference to the reader.

 

 

On Magnetism

It is perhaps not inappropriate to offer a few explanations of magnetism to readers who have not studies. This is what I published on the subject in 1829; it then required a sort of courage, for the pleasantries of Hoffmann 73 (in the Journal des Débats) had more authority of judgment; in addition, a few days after that publication, I had the privilege of reading in a newspaper that I had not written it seriously—or, if I had, then my reason was in dire peril:

“The extraordinary phenomena produced, particularly on organic matter and of a mental nature, by the influence known as animal magnetism can no longer be called into question by those who do not wish to take the trouble to verify them. It is therefore time to have their existence declared, although one still cannot do so without exposing oneself to ridicule. But the truth is well worth the trouble of risking such a petty danger on its behalf, since it was deemed worthy in other times of the sacrifice of one’s life. Today it seems ridiculous; in ten years the ridicule will cease, for facts are more tenacious than that.

“Public experiments, repeated several times before a number of scientists and physicians, ought to have rendered incontestable for enlightened individuals the reality of the agent called magnetic and the singular state improperly called somnambulism by the magnetizers. An immense quantity of similar experiments reproduced on a daily basis almost throughout Europe display the development of a sixth sense or instinct elevated to the highest degree. They demonstrate in certain cases the power of the human will, extended to a point that would once have seemed miraculous, and can easily seem incredible today when it has not been observed.

“Here, therefore, is a new science, or rather an ancient one renewed; born in a milieu of mockery, often compromised by charlatanism, it no longer has anything to combat but prejudice. Subject to examination, it will perhaps reveal to us a universal agent, glimpsed since remote antiquity but too often misconstrued, and serving, whether in the hands of hierophants or conjurors or manifested by chance, to encourage belief in supernatural powers: angels or demons, intermediaries between the Divinity and nature. More enlightened now that everything has been related to immutable laws of physics, we should at least excuse our forefathers for having admitted many superstitions that are partially based on real phenomena; we should only blame them for having believed that the Devil had something to do with them, and for having arrested by torture the spirit of observation that might have been exercised upon the facts sooner, explaining them scientifically.

“But it is perhaps as well that the historical skepticism of the 18th century created a tabula rasa for all facts inexplicable by means of the laws of physics then known, because the principle of the immutability of the laws of nature has been established in the mind. Some say that it undermines the basis of religion, others think that it is necessary first to seek the truth.

“Perhaps too, far from destroying religions, this science will only serve to purify them, in fortifying their truly historic foundations and reattaching them all to an order of facts that, so to speak, poetizes the human species. It will delve into the ante-Diluvian past of Asia and Africa for traces of a sort of instinctive revelation, to which it is necessary to return in order to understand the history of ancient societies. Finally, the magnetic agent, or whatever one cares to call it, will be discovered to be a modification or a generalization of electricity, galvanism, motion, light or life, apparently having the purpose of guiding humankind to sublime notions, physiological or psychological; and, entrusted to prudence and to philanthropy, it will doubtless summoned to soothe or cure diseases that were thought incurable, to retighten social bonds and to contribute to moral amelioration. Since it exists, it can only exist for a good purpose. Human being can abuse anything, but utilitarian usage always prevails over abuse.

“The magnetic medicine that, without supplanting conventional medicine, is at least called upon to direct and improve it, will not be one of the least benefits reserved by Providence for our posterity. The as-yet-inexplicable cures that it effects nowadays on a small number of people will be multiplied immeasurably, and new experiments must be expected. The state of complete insensibility that magnetism can sometimes obtain will allow a sick person to contemplate without fear, and undergo without pain, surgical operations that have until now alarmed desperation itself. Finally, and this will be its principal destination in order to avoid grave inconveniences, magnetism will become the medicine of the family and of friendship.”

Again, this is what I wrote in 1832, at the head of my little magnetic novel:

“It is not at all convenient to be known in society as someone interested with magnetism. Many of your best friends will then consider you with a sort of compassionate anxiety, like that inspired in us by people who are not quite right in the head. I find that entirely natural; for several years now I have been treated thus by others, and today, for the same reason, I am almost ashamed to be identified as a follower of Mesmer, Puységur and the good Monsieur Deleuze.74

“Are not the disadvantages of a reputation of this sort immediately obvious? In politics, it inevitably categorizes you along with the feeble-minded; in philosophy, along with the empty-headed; in literature, along with the foolish. Thus, for example, if I ever find enough confidence in myself to gather from my papers enough to fill one or two octavo volumes, and after that take it into my head to put myself forward, like many another to join the ranks of the Académie Française, do you think that such a footnote to my career would be a very good recommendation in the eyes of Messieurs les Trente-neuf? Imagine, then, an appointment as a député at stake and a candidate strongly suspected of magnetism; how would the electors welcome him with such an antecedent—or, if you wish—a precedent? I can already see all the jokes coming: he wants to magnetize the Chamber, put Europe to sleep; in the end, a rain of darts that kills a candidate in the principal town of an arrondissement.75

“What a very strange thing that is! In a time when magnetism had not yet been publicly observed, when charlatanism was responsible in great measure for its exploitation and mystery added to its marvels, it was fashionable to get mixed up with it, and anyone, without risking his reputation, could believe in it entirely at his ease. People believed in that and in many other things. I remember one fine old fellow, a former captain of dragoons, who, on his return from the emigration, had conserved, like a sort of baggage of the ancient régime, magnetism, the magic wand and a number of anecdotes regarding Monsieur le Comte de Cagliostro, all intermingled with quotes from Voltaire and a quantity of old woman’s remedies borrowed from the Journal de Verdun. The worthy old fellow had only had the greatest good fortune through being given his prescriptions and having his simples administrated, and he believed in their efficacy as firmly as he was convinced that, but for Monsieur Necker,76 the French Revolution would never have taken place! Apologies for the digression.

“I was saying, then, that before the Revolution there was nothing inconvenient about believing in magnetism—which, however, had not been demonstrated in the least; so how does it come about that today—when a large number of experiments have been solemnly carried out in the presence of the most celebrated faculties in Europe, and numerous cures have been publicly effected in a Parisian hospital in front of all the physicians, students and curiosity-seekers who wanted to witness them; when an ad hoc commission has concluded that the phenomena of animal magnetism and somnambulism exist; when one meets people everywhere who have seen, or who have been cured, or whose friends have been cured, or who admit to having experienced some other effect of that singular physical agent—that any ridicule at all is attached to the study of magnetism or belief in it?

“That, however, is now the situation. It is one of the bizarre inconsistencies of human nature. Some believe because they have seen it or experienced it, others do not believe because they have not had the proof; and everyone stops at that. Those who have not been convinced prefer not to believe in it than to go to see it, and find it equally comfortable to mock those who have judge that the thing is worth the trouble of being verified. Let us try to figure out the reason for that.

“When a discovery is made in the physical sciences, which is sufficiently observed by the witnesses of the scientific world, no one takes the trouble to call it into question; everyone would sooner take the word of capable specialists, who have something akin to the power of attorney of the civilized world to admit new verities and give them currency. When I heard talk for the first time of the extraordinary action of galvanism on the nervous system, even after death, I was undoubtedly quite amazed, but, as the fact was not contested by anyone, I did not hesitate to give it credence. If it had been contested, I would have thought that it certainly warranted further inquiry to make sure of it, and I would have done my utmost to find out exactly what to make of it. That is what I have done with magnetism; that, it seems to me, is what everyone ought to do, or I certainly don’t know any more what is worthy of curiosity, especially in a time when so many people strive in search of poetry.

“But there’s something, you see, that is damaging to magnetism; it is that it reveals to us a side of the physical world with which we are entirely unfamiliar, it is that science, according to its habit, has irrevocably fixed the laws of the known world; it is that science is bound to regard as impossible anything that seems to deviate from those laws, and that the vulgar, less scrupulous than science, readily admit the marvelous. That manner of reasoning is, indeed, quite plausible: that which is apparently marvelous is judged impossible, so one decides that it is not worth taking the trouble to investigate it. But how many other facts, now admitted, once passed for marvels because they seemed to conflict with received ideas and to violate the natural order? Did not the phenomena of electricity, galvanism, mineral magnetism, etc., appear marvelous at first, and are they not perfectly explicable today? Well, those of animal magnetism must enter into the domain of physics, although unexplained, and they must also have their law, which will perhaps be discovered one day, and will explain them.

“Oh, my apologies—there I go, treating the scientific question, when I promised myself that I would do no such thing. I only want to place myself at the moral, poetical, philosophical—picturesque if you wish—point of view. I have no wish to give you a clinical witness statement signed by three doctors, nor a theory of magnetism, nor a debate for and against: all that would be irrelevant.

“However, it is necessary that I take my precautions with respect to the serious reader. Please, therefore, allow me to add a few more words to this preamble. I assure you, then, that I believe in magnetism, and even in somnambulism, which it would be better to call by another name.77 I believe in it, because I have examined a number of somnambulists, at first with the most unfavorable prejudices, and afterwards with the most impartial attention. I will tell you again that the nervous apparatus is particularly responsive to magnetic action, and that, in consequence, the less nervous sensibility there is, the less effect magnetism has. One understands from that why women are more easily magnetized than men.

“I believe too that charlatanism has often taken possession of this discovery, undoubtedly renewed many times over, and that enthusiasm has exaggerated it; but tell me—what discovery in medicine has not had its enthusiasts, its rogues and its dupes?

“The physical and moral panacea, the means of arriving at the absolute, at the universal truth—there are people who see that, and many other things, in magnetism. There are also those who are neither dogmatists nor illuminati, but who observe the facts with the aid of experiments and reasoning, in order to limit themselves to studying the most possible of magnetic facts with all the prudence of doubt and also to guard against formulating a theory that other facts might soon overturn. There is always a tendency to think that the epoch of synthesis has arrived, but how many of the planet’s systems have vanished along with its generations, monuments and empires? In the next 2000 years more of them will be constructed, which will subsequently be supplanted. For myself, I like systems well enough, but only as methods—and that is sufficient.”

Finally, incredulity in the matter of magnetism has come to be tolerated and is no longer ridiculed; that is a big step forward. And science marches on; and the observations multiply and are gathered together; and in England—where, less than four years ago, no one would have deigned to examine the question—physicians of the greatest merit put their names to special publications on the existence and the power of magnetism.

 

On Literary Essays on the Future

I have said that, until now, futurist literature has only been attempted in the forms of utopias and apocalypses. Indeed, I have no knowledge of any novelistic narrative transported into the midst of a future social or political situation. I have found indication on the following works in the Bibliographie Universelle:

Memoirs of the 20th Century; being the original letters of state under George the Sixth, relative to the most important events in England and Europe, etc. between the middle of the 18th century and the end of the 20th and the world, received and revealed in the year 1718. London, 1733; octavo, which was to have been followed by five further volumes. This work—which was suppressed and is very rare, according to the bibliography—is by the Irish philanthropist Madden.78

Memoirs of Europe at the end of the 18th Century, published in 1710, 2 vols; octavo, by Mrs. Manley. I do not know if this is correct.79

There exists in England a well-known work entitled The Century of Inventions.80

These are only utopias without action, like L’an 2440 and The Voyage of Kang-Hi by Monsieur de Levis,81 of which I read an analysis in 1810 or thereabouts in the Journal de l’Empire, which made an impression on me as a schoolboy that I can still recall.

As for apocalypses and ends of the world, several have been published in France and England. There exists, I believe, more than one poem entitled The Last Man; the best-known is that of the celebrated Thomas Campbell.82

I remember having heard mention for the first time, about ten years ago, of a French poem of which the subject is also Le dernier homme, by Grainville—a poem known to a small number of interested parties, which I have never seen: Habent sua fata! 83 It was Charles Nodier who brought it to my attention, with a partiality and an enthusiasm for which I know to be thoroughly typical of him.84 There is a tendency for honest literary men to protest against the cessation of fame, or, rather, the whimsicality of fashion. Although it is said that good books never fall into oblivion, there are so many stupid works whose reputation is perpetuated that one can deny the former point by virtue of the contrary argument! Since I have cited Charles Nodier, I shall say here that if the Roman de l’avenir had to have been written by someone other than me, he would certainly have been the man to do it. The idea was entirely suited to the richness of imagination and the versatility of his pen. I regret, for literature’s sake that it has not been the case. I do not say that I also regret it for my sake, because no one would believe me.85

As for Germany, I have absolutely no knowledge of what might have been attempted in this genre. I have read a remarkable piece by Ph. Chasles 86 on Jean-Paul Richter, an original genius worth of such a translator as Chasles; I do not believe that I saw there that he has made the future the object of one of his conceptions.

If I publish a second part, I shall certainly be able to add to it, in the notes, a summary of Mercier’s work. Those who have not read it will perhaps find it convenient to have a summary in a few pages of the man’s ideas, which are often as good as they are bizarre; he had a fine mind, although he was a diffuse and declamatory writer. One finds in his book most of the opinions of economists, and the whole range of hatreds, enthusiasms and pitiless judgments of the past, of the philosophical and sentimental school of the 18th century, and, along with that, an interminable criticism of the present, accompanied by long oratory flourishes, appended to each future improvement. But how can one avoid the imprint of one’s era, however much originality one may claim? It is still the case that, in the long medley of Mercier’s predictions, much can be found that has been realized, and which is almost ancient history today. The comparison of his future with our present is particularly amusing in that respect.

I remember making a foray of my own into that genre a long time ago, but without much mental effort, because my prophecies were already beginning to come true. That was in 1822; the Greek insurrection had burst forth and, with regard to a curious panorama of the Turkish Athens, I published the following article on “Athens in 1840” in the Miroir, which I requested permission to reprint by virtue of an authorial weakness for rediscovering old trivia:

“Thanks to the illusion of the panorama, we are enabled to see Athens. But which Athens? It is no longer that of Pericles! It is the Athens that time, war, barbarism and the Turks have made. The painter has rendered his canvas eloquent. He has made despotism even more detestable.

“I shall not try to bring back all those noble ruins in the imagination, by transporting myself to the days when so many great men circulated beneath the elegant porticoes of which I can hardly see the traces: that fiction, often reproduced, gives birth to too many painful comparisons. I prefer to deliver more consoling images. I shall forsake the comparison of the past with the present for that of the present with the future. I shall strive to forget Athens flourishing under the laws of Solon in order to think only of the Athens promised to us by the 19th century.

“It is not in the vast enclosure of the Pnyx that the laws and affairs of state are discussed. Societies no longer govern themselves in the open air. Where are the men who might be making themselves heard from the platform on which Demosthenes thundered? Today political assemblies are delegations, and the orators operate under mandate. Citizens no longer have slaves to work for them, and the workshops of industry have emptied the public plaza. The turbulent factions of a blind and impassioned democracy, madly creating popular idols who will soon become tyrants, will perhaps succeeded by the venality of a debased representation or elections falsified by violence. But what institutions do not have their abuses? If the republican police of the ancients had more energy and grandeur, the regime found in the forests—as Montesquieu puts it—offers more security and guarantees to the individual; that is the government of modern society.

“The Parthenon, that glorious monument to the genius of Phidias, is restored. It is there that the Congress of Athens holds its sessions. What palace is more worthy of a body of legislators than the temple of Minerva? The Propylaea, which Venetian bombs destroyed, has been rebuilt. An immense crowd fills these superb vestibules and moves towards the Parthenon; the Athenian civic guard is under arms; I can hear cannon-fire in the Acropolis. What festival is being celebrated? It is the anniversary of the liberation of Greece, and also the opening of a legislative session. The procession heads, in the first instance, towards a tall column built to commemorate men who served the cause of Greek independence. Their names are inscribed thereon; I draw nearer and recognize some French names among them, and I feel my heart tremble. Higher up is a large inscription of which I can only read the word alliance. Does it refer to an alliance of peoples? I suppose that it is probably the famous alliance of kings at the beginning of the century; but the distance of the inscription prevents me from finding out how it is judged by posterity.

“The Turkish prison, that old tower, remnant of a Venetian fort, has been demolished. The column of the liberation has been erected on its site. In front of the dark grottoes that once served as the dungeons of the Aeropagus are delightful gardens, comfortable and peaceful retreats. Close to the place where Socrates and Phocion drank hemlock live virtuous men exiled from heir own countries for their political opinions or religious beliefs. Galileo or Sydney,87 were they living, would find a refuge there. The modern Athenians desire that, until the moment when tolerance and liberty are established throughout the world, these gardens will provide shelter to those pursued by despotism and fanaticism. O Socrates, most illustrious of the victims of intolerance, you must find your death worthy expiated!

“The ports of Phalerum, Munychia and Piraeus have recovered their antique splendor. A forest of masts is assembled there. Vast and expert constructions offer a welcome security to the vessels of 20 nations. The commerce of Asia and the Mediterranean finds warehouses here open to all its produce, and indigenous commerce is protected by the bellicose navy of Hydra, whose first efforts were so glorious, and which forced the Dardenelles and bombarded Constantinople. It is at Hydra that the tall ships of the Athenian navy are stationed.

“Plane-trees are growing again in the gardens of the Academy. It is there that the members of the Athenian literary elite gather. Everyone there makes every effort not to speak of commonplace things in affected language; they only occupy themselves with serious and useful matters. Everyone there professes eternal principles of morality and religion extracted from the works of Plato, Cicero, Rousseau and Franklin. Ptolemy’s Gymnasium is a subsidiary branch of the Academy. Greek letters are taught there, and also the literature of modern Europe.

“There, where the Areopagus held its sessions, I see Athens’ hall of justice; an enlightened jury has replaced the Anitus. Instead of the laws of Draco—written, according to one of the ancients, in blood—the Athenians have a code based on the principles of Bentham and Beccaria.88 Nothing prevents the advocates of Thessaly and Macedonia from coming to Athens to defend their friends.

“I see a school of mutual instruction where the Turkish school once was, in which poor children received more lashes of the whip than instruction from ignorant dervishes. A printing works occupies the site of the Mosque of the Bazaar. Finally, I discover the famous pedestal that was the podium from which the orators of Athens governed by speech. A balustrade surrounds this venerable monument, to which so many glorious memories are attached, this point of support from which the lever of eloquence moved so many thousands of men bearing arms for the fatherland. A portico has been built above those stones, so majestic in their rustic simplicity, on the front of which one reads these words: Athenians, you are represented.”

 

Saint Malachy and The End of the World

I have said somewhere that the action occurs toward the end of the 20th century. People who are familiar with the curious prophecy of St. Malachy,89 an Irish monk undoubtedly endowed with a second sight longer than that of his compatriots, who died at Clairvaux in the arms of his friend, St. Bernard, will know that I have taken the liberty of giving some respite to this poor world—which, according to his erudite prophecy, will not last until then. Indeed, according to St. Malachy, there will be no more than a dozen Popes between now and the end of the world. Now, estimating the mean duration of a pontificate at ten years, which is probably too long, if one considers the care the Cardinals take to place the crown on the most decrepit heads in order to improve their own chances of acquiring it, we have no more than 120 years before us.90

The singular correspondences that have come to pass between this prophecy and reality are well known. A two- or three-word motto is attributed to every Pope since the 12th century, and several have been applicable without overstretching the meaning. Thus, the motto Aquila rapax [Rapacious Eagle], bestowed upon Pius VII, has been explained by the confiscation of the papal estates by the Imperial Eagle. The continuators of the commentary would undoubtedly not have lacked explanations for the succeeding mottoes: Canis et coluber [Dog and Adder] for Leo XII, Vir religiosus [Religious Man] for Pius VIII, and De balneis Etruriae [Bath of Etruria] for Gregory XIV. For the benefit of aficionados, I shall reproduce the end of the prophecy, which is to say the 12 Popes that remain to be appointed:

Crux de cruce. [Cross of Crosses]

Lumen in coelo. [Light in the Sky]

Ignis ardens. [Burning Fire]

Religio de populata. [Religion Laid Waste]

Fides intrepida. [Intrepid Faith]

Pastor angelicus. [Angelic Shepherd]

Pastor et nauta. [Pastor and Marine]

Flos florum. [Flower of Flowers]

De medietate lunae. [Of Half of the Moon]

De labore solis. [Of the Eclipse of the Sun]

Gloria olivae. [Glory of the Olive]

In persecutione extrema sacrae romanae ecclesiae sedebit PETRUS ROMANUS qui pascet oves in multis tribulationibus, quibus transactis, civitas septicollis diruteur et judex tremendous judicabit populum. [In extreme persecution, the seat of the Holy Roman Church will be occupied by Peter the Roman, who will feed the sheep through many tribulations, at the term of which the city of the seven hills will be destroyed and the formidable judge will judge his people.] 91

 

THE END