The Year 5865, page 11
The spectacle seemed strange to me, but it soon disappeared from my eyes, which were absorbed by another spectacle that interested me singularly and gripped my heart with an unspeakable pain. Jeers suddenly rose up, and I saw a dense crowd emerging from a narrow street, chasing a few breathless men whose garments had been ripped to shreds. One of them went to hurl himself into a house whose door was open, to seek refuge there, but the door was slammed shut in front of him, in the midst of the mob’s joyful cries.
That man, my friend, I recognized immediately: it was the judge from the tribunal in Lining, and the person who had just delivered him thus into the hands of his executioners was one of those honest faces whom he had cheated of justice a few days before.
The judge had his punishment, therefore—but the punishment was frightful, for he was knocked down and his body dragged through the streets. God is just! I cried, putting my hands over my eyes in order not to see any more. Perhaps the man had committed many injustices, either by virtue of incapacity, carelessness or malevolence; he had been punished—may God have mercy on him!
I opened my eyes again, quivering, but it was written that my heart would drink the chalice of bitterness to the dregs. In the middle of the square where the unfortunate judge had been struck down I saw a scaffold erected, in the middle of which a few somber men placed a block, and then an enormous axe whose like I had never seen before. The crowd was held back, and men hideously decked out in military garments and rags were guarding the scaffold with weapons in hand, gravely —with dignity, even—as if some great act of justice were about to be carried out. The executioner, who climbed up to his funereal platform at that moment, took the heavy axe in both hands and struck the pose of a man awaiting his victim. I had no more doubt then: a capital execution was about to take place.
A few cries, which were immediately suppressed, were soon heard in the distance; the crowd opened up and I saw a double line of soldiers suddenly form up, all the way to the foot of the scaffold. A man marched between them; his stride was noble, grave, devoid of arrogance; his head was bowed, as if his eyes dreaded encountering accursed faces. When he arrived at the foot of the scaffold, he raised his head in a dignified fashion, to examine the place of his torture...
Oh, my friend! A piercing scream escaped my mouth. I woke up, and was very happy; I was bathed in sweat, but I saw with pleasure that I was still in my gondola and that my balloon was making good progress.
I smiled at my dream and went back to sleep. I don’t know whether the atmospheric altitude at which I was traveling was making me drowsy or whether there was some other reason, but scarcely had I woken up than I felt my eyelids closing, as if by a hand that was simultaneously heavy and gentle.
My dream recommenced; it was strange. I still found myself in Trevig, but at least I could no longer see the scaffold or the murder. The spectacle had changed completely. The city was joyful; the houses were all decorated with flags; the streets were filled with emblems of celebration, and triumphant arches had been erected in all the public squares. The king’s palace was being decked out with splendid and cheerful illuminations.
My heart expanded with relief; I was finally able to breathe. While I was enjoying within myself the pleasure and joy that I saw in preparation for everyone, a brilliant and spirited cavalcade of mounted men suddenly emerged from the king’s palace, some on mechanical chargers like ours, others on red deer or reindeer, as in the lands of the West. Embroideries, jewelry and decorations of all sorts ornamented all the riders.
A deafening cheer went up in honor of the king, who was at the head of the cavalcade, waving and smiling graciously at all the curiosity-seekers waiting for him to pass by.
To his right was a man strangely clad in a long white robe with broad sleeves, with a large collar falling over his shoulders, secured at the waist by a sort of hairy leather thong. His ugliness was phenomenal, capable of frightening the most tolerant with respect to the possibilities of human ugliness. He was short and thickset, his head half-hidden between his shoulders, which did not appear to be attached to his torso but to his ears. He had no neck. His face was in keeping with the rest, the face of a bull, entirely composed of a snout and a mouth; but there were also two eyes: two large eyes set beneath the brow like two craters emerging from beneath a large rock.
In the individual was not tall, by way of compensation, he was immeasurably broad. His limbs had incalculable proportions; they seemed to be designed to sustain and serve a colossus who had assuredly been forgotten.
If that man had reproaches to address to the creator of all things, however, he had compensated himself amply by covering his disgrace with sumptuous clothing, decorated with diamonds and rubies. His breast, like the walls of our civic temples to which we attach the decorations of those to whom the fatherland has granted them, was covered with insignia of origin unknown to me. An enormous scimitar, under which it would not have been good to fall in battle, hung from his belt. His head was covered by a sort of skullcap surmounted by a spike. From the summit of which sprang, like a foaming cascade, a flood of white feathers that fell to his shoulders. It was wonderful. I don’t know whether the man could speak, but I saw him open his mouth several times as if to bellow. That was his manner of smiling at the people surrounding him.
I was trying to figure out who that man might be when the rumble of a raucous voice, when a contained by very energetic oath that made itself heard in my ears informed me that it was the illustrious Rhaman X, the Emperor of New Cosaquia.20
That ill-timed oath, which was audible to others than myself, gave me a high opinion of the swearer’s courage, and I looked at him. It was the secretary of Lining’s Cadi. Oh, I fully expected to find him there, proffering curses of envy and covetousness.
To the King of Zeeland’s left was, in a grand official costume—guess who, my friend! The king’s brother, my cicerone in Lining, to whom I sent an amicable salute—which he returned without affectation, as if without constraint. That man would have been a worthy citizen of Caucasia.
I was certainly dazzled by the splendors of so much magnificence, but I was not satisfied. What is the point, I asked myself, of all this phantasmagoria of command, this carnivalesque procession, this infantile demonstration? Would there not have been a more honest, more generous and more grandiose spectacle, to celebrate the arrival of a foreign prince, to show the prince who had come to see and the people who were looking at him?
Perhaps I was wrong, and perhaps my gibe was unjust, but I was pained to see serious men displaying so much pettiness, in wanting to show off their strength and grandeur. So I smiled, and my smile was sad. We are so unused to such parades in our worthy, severe and great Republic.
I was about to turn my eyes to the heavens, to see whether there might be a pitying smile there to reply to mine, when a final glance darted at the body of the procession fell directly upon my great devil from the cemetery in Copenhagen, my ally in Lining.
At first, I was stunned by surprise; then my heart beat faster at a pleasant memory. I had no doubt that his lady, and mine, must be there. He was standing up straight, rigid and attentive, appearing only to have eyes for a carriage that was moving slowly ahead of him. I had no difficulty discovering therein the woman I desired so much to see. She saw me too, and graciously blew me a kiss. She was stunning in her beauty, clad in a costume that was unfamiliar to me, but which was simple and exquisitely tasteful.
To my great regret, that costume was stained by a few insignia of honor unknown to me, of which I could not divine the merit or the significance. I thought however, that they were indicative of a high status, and not, as I had been able to believe, a gracious adventuress or a divine witch.
Whatever she was, she had not forgotten me, and I was charmed by that. So, I was about to launch myself toward her carriage in reply to her kiss and take her in my arms, when I awoke...
I saw then, to my inexpressible surprise, that I was not in Trevig at all, but lying on the floor of my gondola. I had a little ivory wand in my hand, trivial in its length and breadth; I had no idea how it came to be there, but it did not seem to me to have either the strength or intelligence to have introduced itself without my being aware of it, even in my sleep. Had it played some part in my dreams? I am, my friend, too strong-minded a man to believe that. However, I cannot help pointing out to you that ever since my first encounter with the legitimate heir of the throne of France, I had not ceased, at every step I took, to run into some significant manifestation of witchcraft.
I uttered a deep sigh of relief when I acquired the conviction that everything I had seen and heard had only been a dream. What was not a dream, though, was the progress—the regular progress—of my balloon. Having slept for so long, I felt the need to consult my telescope and compass. It would not take me long to find out whether I still had a long way to travel before arriving at my destination, in Paris, where I ought to and wanted to find the woman who had promised to meet me there.
Alas, my friend, a thousand times alas! An evil genius was pursuing me doggedly, that was very evident. I was not heading in the direction in which I wanted to go. While I slept, a hostile wind had obviously driven my balloon in a direction other than the one in which I had initially steered…or was I the victim of my stupid credulity? Like a fool, I had believed in the solution of the great problem—the problem of the intelligent and controlled direction of aerostats—on the word of a savage; it was nothing of the sort.
I almost smiled with pride, my friend—for the problem remained to be solved, I told myself, and who could tell whether that honor might be reserved for me?
However, I reread the written instructions that I had in my pocket, and then examined the steering mechanism, and…I burst into laughter: strident laugher that was certainly undeserved. Was it a reproach addressed to my stupidity, or an outburst of anger over the time lost? No, my friend, no! It was because I had just recognized that my problem really was solved, and that I alone was culpable. I had operated the steering mechanism ineptly; I was, therefore, not heading westwards, in the direction I wanted to go. I was somewhere else—but where?
XIII. THE SUDANESE PENITENTIARY
Being uncertain as to where I was, I felt an urgent need to communicate with the ground. I therefore stopped my balloon and looked in all directions, in order to ascertain my position. I was over a vast extent of water, obviously the sea. My eyes did not take long to distinguish a black dot in the middle of that vast liquid expanse, which grew as I fixed my attention upon it. I took my balloon lower; the black dot was still growing, allowing me to distinguish vague masses that changed, as I drew closer, into houses, trees and rocks. Eventually, I saw that it was an island, and an inhabited island.
I had been seen. I steered my descent in such a way as to land in the middle of a field, in the idle of a host of laborers, who hastened toward me, bewildered by my singular arrival. I was not afraid, for I could not see any hostile expression in any of the visitors.
One of them, who was some way behind the others, parted the crowd, advanced toward me and bowed politely. His costume told me that he was a dignitary. He wore a long robe, as in our homeland, and had a woolen bonnet on his head—but the robe was checkered by embroidered along all the seams, and there was a gold tassel hanging from his bonnet. The others, except for two or here who accompanied the dignitary, equipped with metal arms and armor whose African origin I immediately recognized, were only wearing simple jackets buttoned over the chest, enclosing the waistband of trousers made of the same fabric, in the same color.
One might have taken them for a religious order at work, a college on vacation, or prisoners in a penitentiary. I did not recognize either the penitentiary or the country that had established it, for I had never seen any establishments of that sort or any of their employees—but I soon had confirmation that I was in a penitentiary.
“Sir,” said the dignitary who had greeted me so civilly, “You are in the great penitentiary of Sudan, on the island of Tahiti, at the extremity of the great Ocean, about 3000 leagues from Timbuktu.21 Your arrival here is doubtless involuntary, for I know that aerostats do not travel at the whim of those they transport, but while according you the hospitality you require, the administration of the penitentiary must appeal to your sound judgment in begging you not to be offended if it sets before your eyes the law that forbids landing on the island and abiding there without express orders.”
The employee was, as is evident, exquisitely polite—which did not surprise me; I knew that such is the rule in the Sudan. An employee who acted otherwise would immediately be sacked and recognized as incapable of possessing any public employment. That people has understood how despicable the functionary is, who, being paid out of public funds—which is to say, funds amassed by the people—is insolent in his treatment of the people, which is his master, although it only commands him on great occasions, on days of revolution.
I declared then that I, as a citizen of Caucasia gone astray in the air, through which I was seeking a land that seemed to flee before me, and that I had only descended on the island, without knowing where I was, to recover somewhat from the fatigues of a difficult voyage.
No suspicion appeared to welcome my narration, and I became the guest of the functionary, who accommodated me with all graciousness that could have been extended to a friend. I was very touched by that fine welcome, which put me entirely a my ease, so I had no fear of seeming indiscreet in asking for information about the penitentiary, which was given to me with all possible cordiality.
My host was not a dignitary of the highest rank, but he was an intelligent man, who did not think that he as lowering himself in accepting secondary functions. Moreover, he had confidence in the justice of his nation, and confessed without arrogance and without shame that the only hierarchy consulted in the administration of the Sudan was that of merit.
“I once traveled in Caucasia, sir,” my host said to me, after the light meal that he had offered me, “where I learned to admire and love its citizens—but I believe that if you had also lived for a while in the Sudan, you would similarly have learned to admire and love us.”
“I have lived there,” I replied, “and I know your admirable nation slightly. After the government of Caucasia, yours is the one I would like the best, if it were set on a base more solid than the life of your Sheikh. In your country today, your government is the Sheikh; he is your happiness, your wisdom. When he dies, what will come after him, and what will your government be? Your right of inheritance is regrettable. Woe betide the nation that only has one man to sustain it! Woe betide the government that is entirely invested in one man.”
My host replied: “My government—and I am not speaking as a man who hesitated to voice his thoughts for fear that the walls might hear him or the air might carry his words to tyrannical ears; liberty is so great among us that it only remains for us to take advantage of it—is, as you say, rare and admirable in its wisdom. So you will not be surprised when I tell you that the Sheikh has probably thought as you have about our base and our future, for he has provided for that eventuality. But we shall talk about that later; for the moment we have only to occupy ourselves with the penitentiary, about which you do not know and wish to know.
“It has existed for twenty years, since the second year of the reign of Fittri, our present Sheikh. It is rather well populated, as you see, but its population is not excessive for a country as large as ours. In any case, we all recognize and loudly declare that this is one of the finest results of our sheikh’s philosophy.
“When Fittri came to the throne, the whole Sudan quivered in anticipation. His pure mind and sublime philosophy were well-known. There was only one dread, which was that he might renounce his inheritance, so little did he seem to care for the honors and advantages attached to royalty. Personally, I believe that he only accepted his position in order to do the good that he would not otherwise have been able to do.
“The first two years of his reign were employed by him in studying the needs of those who are called his subjects, but whom he himself called his brothers. But how do you think he carried out that study? Do you think that he could be content to ask for statistics from all parts, opinions and information from all the particular administrations of the kingdom? No: he set forth, not with a numerous escort and couriers advertising the coming of the king along his route, nor with a deceptive incognito shouted from the rooftops a month in advance, but with a few intimate and devoted friends, perfectly familiar with his projects, without any fuss, and unidentified to the extent that he needed in order to conduct his business. He went to knock on the doors of all the administrations; he interrogated the great, the rich, the poor, the people of all parties—and he did so for two years. Then the reforms were made. The legal code was erased; the old customs that were still appropriate to the new ores of Sudan were reinscribed there, along with the new decrees that the present civilization demanded.
“It was in that era that the idea of our penitentiary germinated, and an important question was resolved—that of the right of death that all governments believe they have over those submissive to their society. I can still recall the royal edict issued at that time; it is in my opinion, the work of a great philosopher. This is what it said, or very nearly:
“Inhabitants of the Sudan, our Sheikh said, called by the hazard of my birth to the honor of representing and guiding our society in his corner of the earth through the miseries of life, I have carefully weighed the laws that our forefathers have handed down to us. What they have done, I believe that they have done well; it is not for us to judge today the necessities in which they found themselves formerly; but our situation is different—at least, I think so—and our laws ought therefore to be different. You will accept them if you wish. Those who are unsympathetic to them, if they are in a substantial minority, will be free to create a new state in a corner of our fatherland and live there as they wish; we shall facilitate that with all possible means. Those who accept them, will have done so seriously, and they will be punished seriously for their infraction.
