Complete Works of Emile Zola (1784 page)

BOOK: Complete Works of Emile Zola
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Sidoine, however, being thirsty, went down to the edge of the Nile to drink a draught of fresh water; he dried it up at a mouthful. Fortunately for Egypt he found the beverage so hot and tasteless that he hastened to eject the stream back to its bed without swallowing a drop. See on what a country’s fertility rests.

In a very bad temper he returned to the plain, and, rubbing his hands, looked at the Blues.

“Brother,” he said, in an insinuating tone, “what if I were now to knock these about a little. They make a great noise. What do you think of a few fisticuffs to reduce them to respectful silence?”

“Mind you don’t,” replied Médéric; “I have been watching them for a moment, and I believe they have the best intentions in the world. They are certainly talking of you. Endeavour, my beauty, to assume a majestic attitude; for, unless I am mistaken, your great destiny is about to be accomplished. See, here comes a deputation.”

A solemn silence had succeeded the tumult of a million of men, each giving vent to his individual opinion without hearkening to his neighbour’s. The Blues had no doubt come to an understanding; which is surprising, for in the assemblies of our country, where the members do not exceed a few hundred, they have hitherto been unable to agree over the slightest trifle.

The army filed off in two columns. Soon it formed an immense circle. In the midst of this circle was Sidoine, embarrassed to know what to do with himself; he cast down his eyes, ashamed to see so many people looking at him. As for Médéric, he realised that at this decisive moment, his presence would give rise to needless and even dangerous surprise. He prudently retired into the ear that had served as his abode since morning.

The deputation stopped within twenty steps of Sidoine. It did not consist of warriors, but of old men, bald-headed, with magisterial beards flowing in silvery waves on their blue coats. The hands of these old men had assumed the dry wrinkles of the parchments they constantly fingered; their eyes, accustomed solely to the light of smoky lamps, only bore the splendour of the sun’s rays by blinking the lids, as would an owl astray in broad daylight; their spines were curved, as though they were constantly at a desk; whilst spots of oil and streaks of ink — mysterious signs which were of no small account in their high renown for science and wisdom — formed the strangest patterns on their gowns.

The oldest, driest, blindest, most bespeckled of the learned company advanced three steps, bowing low; after which, having drawn himself up, he spread out his arms, in order to accompany his words with suitable gestures.

“My lord giant,” said he in a solemn tone, “I, prince of orators, senior member and dean of all academies, grand officer of all the orders, address you in the name of the nation. Our king, a wretched creature, died a couple of hours ago from a stomach complaint, with which he was seized at the sight of the Greens on the opposite side of the plain. We are therefore without a master to load us with taxes, and to have us slaughtered for the public weal. This is, as you know, a state of freedom which is generally displeasing to a people. We need a king immediately; and, in our haste to prostrate ourselves at royal feet, we have thought of you, who fight so bravely. We hope, in offering you the crown, to express our gratitude for your devotedness to our cause. I feel that such a circumstance requires a speech in a learned language — Sanscrit, Hebrew, Greek, or, at all events, Latin — but may the necessity I am under to improvise, the certainty that later on I can make amends for this lack of propriety, be my excuse.”

The old man paused.

“I was sure,” thought Médéric, “that my beauty’s fists were those of a king.”

V

MÉDÉRIC’S SPEECH

“My lord giant,” continued the prince of orators, “it remains for me to tell you what the nation has resolved, and what proof of your fitness for regal power it requires at your hands before placing you on the throne. It is weary of having as masters, men who resemble their subjects in all points, who are unable to strike the slightest blow without injuring themselves, and who cannot make a long-winded speech every third day without dying of consumption at the end of four or five years. In a word, it requires a king who will entertain it, and it is persuaded that, amongst pleasures in good taste, there are two, especially, of which it could never tire — thrashings sharply administered, and the empty and resonant phrases of a royal proclamation. I admit I am proud to belong to a nation that appreciates the transitory pleasures of this life so thoroughly. Its desire to have an entertaining king on the throne appears to me even more praiseworthy. What we require amounts to this. Princes are gilt toys which nations bestow on themselves, in order to procure entertainment and diversion by watching them glitter in the sun; but these playthings almost always cut and bite, just like steel knives — bright blades with which mothers frighten their children to no purpose. Now we wish our plaything to be harmless, to entertain, to divert us in accordance with our tastes, without our running the risk of wounding ourselves in turning it over and over between our fingers. We require heavy blows, for that game makes our warriors laugh and amuses them thoroughly, whilst giving them courage; we need long-winded speeches to provide occupation for the good folk of the kingdom in applauding and criticising them, smartly rounded sentences which will keep the orators of the day in good temper. You have already, my lord giant, supplied part of the programme to the perfect satisfaction of the most unaccommodating. I speak truthfully; never have fists made us laugh more heartily. Now, to crown our desires, you must go through the second ordeal. Choose your own subject, tell us of the love you bear us, of your duty towards us, of the great events which will mark your reign. Instruct us, entertain us; we will listen to you.”

The prince of orators, having thus spoken, bowed again. Sidoine, who had listened with uneasiness to the exordium, and had followed the various issues with anxiety, was very much alarmed at the peroration. To make a long speech in public seemed to him an absurd idea, out of keeping with his usual habits. He looked cunningly at the learned grey beard, fearing some cutting jest; wondering to himself if a good blow well aimed at that yellow brow would not solve the difficulty. But the worthy fellow was not spiteful. This old man had spoken to him with so much courtesy, that it seemed hard to answer him so roughly. Having sworn not to open his lips, appreciating, besides, the awkwardness of his position, he shifted from one foot to the other, twirled his thumbs, and laughed his simplest laugh. As he became more and more idiotic, he thought he had come across an ingenious idea. He bowed lowly to the old gentleman.

But at the end of five minutes the army became impatient. I think I told you these incidents were taking place in Egypt on the stroke of noon. As you know, nothing tries one’s temper so much as waiting in the midday sun. Increasing murmurs from the Blues bore witness to the fact that the lord giant must be quick, or they would throw him over and seek a more talkative king elsewhere.

Sidoine, surprised that these good people were not satisfied with a bow, immediately made three or four more, one upon the other, turning from side to side, so that each might have his share.

Then arose a storm of oaths and laughter, one of those popular tempests in which every one makes fun of some sort — some whistling like blackbirds, others clapping their hands in mockery. It became a surging tumult decreasing to swell again, resembling the noise of the ocean’s waves. It was a capital apprenticeship for royalty as regards a nation’s spirit.

Suddenly, during a few moments’ silence, a sweet, melodious voice was heard issuing from the heights of Sidoine — a sweet soft child’s voice like a silver bell, with delightful modulations.

“My well-beloved subjects,” it said. Deafening cheers interrupted it at these first words. What a delightful sovereign! with fists that could crush mountains, and a voice which would make the May breeze envious!

The prince of orators, amazed at this phenomenon, turned to his learned colleagues.

“Gentlemen,” he said to them, “here is a giant who possesses a peculiar voice for his species. I would not have credited it had I not heard it, that a throat capable of swallowing an ox and its horns, could utter such marvellously delicate sounds. There is some anatomical curiosity here which we must study and explain at all costs. We will discuss this important subject at our next meeting; we will make a fine scientific fact of it, which shall be expounded at our universities.”

“Come, my beauty,” Médéric whispered softly in Sidoine’s ear, “open your jaws wide; keep them going in time, as though you were cracking nuts. It is well that you should move them vigorously, as those who do not hear you will at least see you are speaking. Do not omit the gestures either: curve your arms gracefully during well-toned periods; wrinkle your brows and throw out your hands when there are bursts of eloquence, endeavour even to cry at pathetic parts. Above all, no blunders. Follow the lead Do not stop suddenly in the midst of a sentence, nor continue when I am silent. Insert full stops and commas, my beauty. It is not difficult; the greater number of our statesmen do nothing more. Attention! I am about to begin.”

Sidoine opened his mouth frightfully wide and began to gesticulate, with the look of one of the damned. Médéric expressed himself in these terms:

“My beloved subjects, allow me, in accordance with custom, to express my surprise and declare myself unworthy of the honour you are bestowing upon me. I do not believe a single word I have just uttered; I believe I deserve, as every one does, to be a bit of a king in turn; and I do not know why I was not born a prince’s son, which would have saved me the trouble of founding a dynasty.

“In the first instance, in order to secure my future freedom, I must call your attention to present circumstances. You look on me as a good engine of war; it is indeed on that account alone that you offer me the crown. I comply. Unless I am mistaken, this is what is called Universal Suffrage. The invention seems excellent; nations will be all the better for it when it is perfected. Therefore be so good as to blame yourselves when occasion offers, if I fail to keep all the fine promises I am making, for I might unintentionally forget some of them, and it would not be fair to punish me for a slip of memory, when you, yourselves, may have been lacking in judgment.

“I am anxious to deal with the programme I long since sketched out in view of the day when I should have leisure to be king. It is charming in simplicity, and I commend it to my brethren — those sovereigns who may find themselves encumbered with their people. This is it in its innocence and simplicity; war abroad, peace at home.

“War abroad is good policy. It rids the nation of quarrelsome people, allowing them to go and be maimed out of the country. I allude to those who are born with clenched fists, who, owing to their temperament, would from time to time feel the need of a slight revolution, if they had not to thrash some neighbouring state. In each nation a certain number of blows have to be distributed; prudence demands that these blows should be given some five or six hundred leagues from the capital. Let me express myself clearly. The organisation of an army is simply a prudent measure, taken to separate riotous from reasonable men; the aim in making war is to cause as many of these rioters as possible to disappear, and so allow the sovereign to live in peace, having only reasonable men as subjects. I know one hears of glory, conquest and other stuff and nonsense. Those are idle words which gratify fools. If kings launch their armies against each other at the least provocation, it is because they understand one another, and enjoy bloodshed. I intend following their example with a view to impoverish the blood of my subjects, otherwise they might develop high fever. But one thing perplexes me. The further one goes the more difficult it is to find cause for war; we shall soon be compelled to live at peace for want of a pretext to fight one another. I have had to draw on my imagination. Fighting to avenge an injury is not to be thought of: we have nothing to avenge, for no one provokes us, our neighbours are courteous and have good manners.

“The seizure of border lands, under the pretence of enlarging our dominions, is an old idea which has never succeeded when put into practice, and which conquerors have always regretted. To fall out over a few bales of cotton, or some hundredweight of sugar, would cause us to be looked upon as vulgar merchants, as thieves who object to be robbed; whilst our great aim is to be a charming people, dreading the cares of business, and devoted to the ideal and witty sayings. No acknowledged system in the matter of warfare would satisfy us. But, after deep thought, a brilliant idea has occurred to me. We will always fight for others and never for ourselves, which will obviate our having to account for the blows we strike. Just imagine how convenient this method will be, and the honour we shall derive from such enterprises. We will assume the title of benefactors of nations, we will publish abroad our disinterestedness, we will assume the part of upholders of good causes, of faithful followers of great ideas. This is not all. As those we do not assist might express their surprise at this strange policy, we will answer boldly that our passion for lending our armies to those who ask for the loan of them, is due to a generous wish to pacify the world, to pacify it thoroughly by means of pike-thrusts. We will say that our soldiers go forth as civilisers, cutting the throats of those who do not promptly become civilised, sowing the most fruitful ideas in pits dug on battle-fields. They will baptize the earth with a baptism of blood, to hasten the birth of liberty. But we will not add that they will have an endless task, waiting in vain for a harvest which cannot rise on graves.

“That, my dear subjects, is what I have planned. The idea has all the magnitude and absurdity requisite for success. Therefore, those among you who feel a desire to proclaim one or two republics are requested not to do so in my dominions. I charitably grant them access to the kingdoms of other monarchs. Let them liberally distribute provinces, change the order of governments, consult the will of the peoples; let them go and get killed in neighbouring countries, in the name of freedom, and leave me to govern my own dominions as arbitrarily as I please.

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