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Steven Millhauser has been the topic of postings here some time ago, and
I assume that his work is familiar to many readers of this list. The
release of a movie based on Millhauser's story "Eisenheim the
Illusionist" prompted me to reread the story. Millhauser works with some
of his favorite themes, notably a character's obsession with the
creation of more and more elaborate invented worlds. But the following
passage reminded me of the "Pale Fire" discussion here and which
character is the invention of which.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Eisenheim was not without rivals, whose challenges he invariably met
with a decisiveness, some would say ferocity, that left no doubt of his
self-esteem. . . . .
. . . a far more formidable challenge was posed by the mysterious
Passauer. . . . Passauer took the city by storm; and for the first time
there was talk that Eisenheim had met his match, perhaps even — was it
possible?— his master. . . . The pattern of their performances that
autumn was the very rhythm of rivalry: Eisenheim played on Sunday,
Wednesday, and Friday nights, and Passauer on Tuesday, Thursday and
Saturday nights. . . . It was as if the two of them had outsoared the
confines of the magician’s art and existed in some new realm of dextrous
wonder, of sinister beauty. In this high but by no means innocent realm,
the two masters vied for supremacy before audiences that were
increasingly the same. . . . All awaited the decisive event that would
release them from the tension of an unresolved battle.
And it came . . [descriptions of Passauer’s performance, then Eisenheim’s.]
Passauer’s final performance was one of frightening brilliance. . .
[description of the illusions]. At the climax of the evening, he caused
the properties of the stage to vanish one by one: the magician’s table,
the beautiful assistant, the far wall, the curtain. Standing alone in a
vanished world, he looked at the audience with an expression that grew
more and more fierce. Suddenly he burst into a demonic laugh, and
reaching up to his face he tore off a rubber mask and revealed himself
to be Eisenheim. The collective gasp sounded like a great furnace
igniting; someone burst into hysterical sobs. The audience,
understanding at last, rose to its feet and cheered the great master of
illusion, who himself had been his own greatest rival and had at the end
unmasked himself.