Auguste Villiers de l’Isle-Adam
By Ryan Oakley. Filed in art, writing |Tags: Auguste Villiers de l'Isle-Adam, claque, cruel tales, the glory machine
Auguste Villiers de l’Isle-Adam is one of those French Symbolists who probably smoked too much hash and washed it down with too much absinthe while reading too much Poe. He had the sort of poverty stricken and disreputable life that teenagers might find romantic. He’s obscure. That’s a damn shame.
His 1883 story, “The Glory Machine”, part of the collection called either “Sardonic Tales” or “Cruel Tales” is a wonderful example of satiric science fiction.
The story is s sort of advertisement for a machine that will guarantee glory for a play. It is the perfected Claque.
(The Claque is a small group paid either to applaud or boo a performance. In politics the technique is at least as old as the Romans and, in theatre, at least as ancient as the Greeks.)
“The Glory Machine” is both a prediction of the laugh track and about the easily bent mentality of the mob.
In describing the Claque:
“A living statue sitting openly in the midst of the audience, the Claque is the official statement, the avowed symbol of the Public’s inability to distinguish by itself the worth of what it is listening to.”
In describing the principle behind The Glory Machine:
“Let us remind ourselves above all . . . that individuals do not like to contradict public opinion. It pertains to each of their souls to be convinced from birth of the truth of this axiom, in spite of everything: ‘This man is successful; therefore, whatever the envious and the stupid may say, he is a glorious, capable spirit. Let us copy him if we can and let us be on his side in any case, even if it is only to avoid looking like a fool.’”
The Glory Machine is a map to our lives within the society of the spectacle. We are just the breathing parts of a machine theatre, casually passing through the roles of performer to spectator to critic. We are the Claque and, when we are not, we are surrounded by it.
I can think of no better guide to this than “The Glory Machine.” But be warned:
“The summit of the Art is reached when the Claque in person shouts: ‘Down with the Claque!’ and then ends up by appearing to be carried away itself and claps at the end of the play, as if it were the real Public and the roles were reversed . . .”
