Complete Works of Emile Zola (448 page)

He paused again. Notwithstanding the care which he had taken to turn towards the Emperor, he could not shake off the consciousness that Rougon was sitting on the other side of the table, leaning on his elbows and looking at him, pale with surprise. Generally speaking, Delestang’s views were identical with those of the great man. And so the latter had a momentary hope that a word from him might bring back his erring disciple.

‘Well, now,’ he exclaimed with a frown, ‘I’ll just give you an example. I’m sorry I haven’t brought the book with me, but I can give you the substance of a chapter which I remember very well. Jacques is speaking of two beggars who go through the village soliciting alms from door to door, and, in reply to a question from the school-master, he asserts that he will show the peasants a way by which they will never have a single poor person among them. Then follows a very elabo­rate system for the extinction of pauperism. It contains the whole communistic theory. Surely the Minister for Agricul­ture and Commerce cannot approve of that chapter.’

Delestang summoned up all his courage and looked Rougon boldly in the face. ‘You are going too far in saying the whole communistic theory,’ he replied. ‘It merely struck me as being an ingenious exposition of the principles of combina­tion.’ He had been searching in his portfolio as he spoke. ‘I have got the book here,’ he added.

Then he began to read the chapter under discussion. He read it in a low monotonous voice, and his wise-looking face assumed an expression of extraordinary gravity at certain passages. The Emperor listened with an air of deep atten­tion. He seemed to particularly appreciate the more touch­ing portions, in which the author made his peasants speak in a strain of childish stupidity. Meanwhile the ministers were quite delighted. What an amusing affair! There now was Rougon abandoned by Delestang, whom he had brought into the ministry solely that he might have some one to rely upon amidst the unexpressed hostility of his other colleagues. The latter were often indignant with him for his constant arrogation of power, that craving for authority which impelled him to treat them as though they were mere clerks, while he him­self assumed the position of his Majesty’s private adviser and right-hand man. And now he was on the point of finding himself completely isolated! This fellow, Delestang, thought the others, was a man to be well received.

‘There are perhaps one or two words — ‘ muttered the Emperor, when Delestang had finished his perusal; ‘but, really, taking it altogether, I don’t see anything — eh, gentle­men?’

‘It is quite innocent,’ chorused the ministers.

Rougon made no reply to his Majesty, but seemed to bend his shoulders. When he returned to the charge, he singled out Delestang for his attack. For several minutes a contest went on between them in short sentences. Handsome Dele­stang grew warlike, and indulged in cutting remarks, while Rougon’s anger also gradually rose. He for the first time felt his authority giving way beneath him. And springing all at once to his feet, he addressed himself to the Emperor with vehement gestures.

‘Sire,’ he said, ‘it is a petty matter, and the book will be authorised, since your Majesty in your wisdom declares there is no danger in it. But I must warn you, sire, that it would be perilous to confer on France one half of the liberties which are claimed by this “Friend Jacques”. You summoned me to power under terrible circumstances. You told me that I was not to attempt, by any untimely moderation, to reassure those who were quaking with alarm. In accordance with your commands, sire, I have made myself feared. I believe that I have obeyed your slightest instructions and have rendered you the services you expected of me. If any one should accuse me of excessive severity or of abusing the power with which your Majesty has entrusted me, such an accusation could only come from an adversary of your Majesty’s policy. Believe me when I tell you that society is as deeply disturbed as ever it was. In the few weeks that I have been in office, it has unfortunately been impossible for me to heal the diseases which are preying upon it. Anarchical passions are still fermenting among the lower strata of the people.

‘I do not wish to lay this festering wound bare to you, or to exaggerate its horror, but it is my duty to remind you of its existence, so that I may put your Majesty on your guard against the generous impulses of your own heart. For a moment it was possible to hope that the energy of the sovereign and the solemnly expressed will of the nation had swept all abominable periods of public baseness away without possibility of revival. Events, however, have shown what a mournful error this was. In the name of the country, sire, I beseech you not to draw back your powerful hand. The danger does not lie in the possession of excessive authority, but in the absence of repressive laws. If you should draw back your hand, sire, you would see the scum of the people bubbling up, you would at once find yourself overwhelmed by revolutionary demands, and your most energetic servants would soon be at a loss how to defend you. I venture to press this upon you strongly, for the dangers of the morrow would be terrible.

‘Liberty without restraint is impossible in a country where there exists a faction which is obstinately bent upon denying the fundamental basis of the government. Many long years must elapse before your Majesty’s absolute power is accepted by all, before it effaces from men’s memories the recollection of old struggles, and passes so far beyond the pale of discussion that it may be discussed without danger. And outside the principle of despotic power, vigorously exercised, there is no safety for France. On the day when your Majesty may con­sider it your duty to restore to the nation the most harmless of its liberties, on that day your Majesty will be committed to everything. One liberty cannot be granted without a second; and then comes a third one, and everything is swept away, both institutions and dynasties! It is like an implacable, devouring piece of machinery. First, the tip of the finger is caught, then the hand is drawn in, then the arm, and finally the whole body is ground to pieces.

‘And, sire, since I have ventured to express myself so freely on this matter, I will make this further remark. Parlia­mentary rule once destroyed a French monarchy; do not let us allow it to destroy an empire. The Corps Législatif ventures to interfere too much as it is. Do not allow it any share in directing the sovereign’s policy. To do so would only give rise to the most vehement and deplorable discussions. The last general elections have once again testified to the country’s gratitude, but none the less, no fewer than five candidates were elected whose disgraceful success ought to serve as a warning. To-day the all-important question is to prevent the formation of an opposition minority; and, what is still more important, is to take care not to provide it — if by chance it should come into existence — with weapons which might enable it to contend against the constituted authority with yet greater impudence than now. A parliament which holds its tongue is a parliament which does some work.

‘As for the press, sire, it is turning liberty into license. Since I entered the ministry I have read the reports carefully, and every morning I am filled with fresh disgust. The press is the receptacle of nauseous leaven of every kind. It foments revolutions, it is an ever-burning fire which serves to kindle great conflagrations. It will only become useful when we have brought it under our authority and can use its influence as an instrument of government. At present I say nothing of other forms of liberty, such as the liberty of combination, of public meeting, or of doing anything a man likes. These, however, are all respectfully asked for in “Friend Jacques’s Evening Chats.” Later on they will be demanded. That is what I am afraid of. I hope that your Majesty will fully understand me. It is necessary that France should for a long time yet feel the weight of a hand of iron.’

He went on in this strain for a long time, defending, with increasing energy, the way in which he had used his authority, sheltering himself beneath the principle of plenary power, wrapping himself round with it, covering himself with it, as it were, like a man who would avail himself of his armour to the fullest extent possible. And in spite of his apparent excite­ment, he retained sufficient coolness to keep a watch on his colleagues and to note the effect of his words on their pale, fixed faces. Then all at once he abruptly ceased speaking.

There was a rather long interval of silence. The Emperor had again begun to play with his paper-knife.

‘His Excellency the Minister of the Interior takes too black a view of the situation,’ at length said the Minister of State. ‘In my opinion nothing threatens our institutions. Order is perfectly maintained. We can trust with confidence to his Majesty’s great wisdom. Indeed, it is a lack of such confidence to show fear — ‘

‘Certainly, certainly,’ murmured several voices. ‘I will add,’ said the Minister for Foreign Affairs, ‘that France has never been more respected by Europe than she is now. Everywhere abroad his Majesty’s firm and dignified policy is regarded with admiration. The opinion of the chan­celleries is that our country has entered for good upon an era of peace and greatness.’

However, none of the ministers cared to attack the poli­tical programme defended by Rougon. They all looked at Delestang, who understood what was expected of him. He began to speak, and compared the empire to an edifice.

‘The principle of authority ought certainly not to be shaken,’ said he, ‘but there is no necessity for systematically shutting the door upon every public liberty. The empire is like some great place of refuge, some vast and magnificent edifice whose indestructible foundations have been laid by his Majesty with his own hands. He is still engaged in raising its walls; but the day will come when his task will be finished, and he will have to think of how he can crown his edifice, and it is then — ‘

‘Never!’ interrupted Rougon violently. ‘The whole thing will topple down!’

The Emperor stretched out his hand to stop the discus­sion. He was smiling, and seemed to be awaking from a reverie. ‘Well, well,’ he said; ‘we are getting away from current affairs. We will see about all this later on.’ Then, having risen from his seat, he added: ‘It is late, gentlemen; you must have
déjeuner
at the château.’

The council was now at an end. The ministers pushed back their chairs and stood up and bowed to the Emperor, who was slowly retiring. All at once, however, his Majesty turned and muttered: ‘A word with you, Monsieur Rougon, I beg.’

Then as the Emperor took Rougon into the embrasure of one of the windows, the other ministers thronged round Delestang a the farther end of the room. They congratulated him in subdued tones, with nods and becks and wreathed smiles, quite a buzzing of murmured praise. The Minister of State, a man of very shrewd mind and great experience, was particularly flattering. He had an idea that it was lucky to have a shallow-pated fellow for a friend. Meantime, Delestang bowed with grave modesty to all the compliments lavished upon him.

‘After all,’ said the Emperor to Rougon, ‘I won’t speak to you here, come along with me,’ and he thereupon took him into his own study, a rather small room, where the furniture was littered with books and newspapers. Then, having lighted a cigarette, he showed Rougon a small model of a new cannon lately invented by an officer. The little weapon looked like a child’s toy. His Majesty affected a very kindly tone, and tried to convince the minister that he still possessed his favour. Rougon, however, divined that an explanation of some sort was coming, and he wanted to have the first word.

‘Sire,’ he began, ‘I am well aware of the violence with which I am attacked by those who surround your Majesty.’

The Emperor smiled without saying anything. It was true, however, that the Court had again put itself in opposition to Rougon. He was now accused of abusing his power, and of compromising the empire by his harshness. The most extraordinary tales were circulated about him, and the corridors of the palace were full of complaints and stories, which echoed every morning in the Emperor’s study.

‘Be seated, Monsieur Rougon, be seated,’ his Majesty at last said, in a good-natured way. And then, taking a seat himself, he continued: ‘People are always dinning things into my ears. So it is, perhaps, best that I should quietly talk them over with you. What is this affair of a notary at Niort, who died after being arrested? A Monsieur Martineau, I think?’

Rougon quietly entered into particulars. This Martineau, he said, was a man who had very gravely compromised him­self; a Republican whose influence in the department might have led to great danger. He had been arrested, and he had since died.

‘Yes, that’s just it,’ replied the Emperor; ‘that’s the tiresome part of the matter. The opposition papers have got hold of the story, and relate it in a very mysterious fashion, and with a reticence which is calculated to have a most deplorable effect. I am much distressed about it, Monsieur Rougon.’

However, he said no more on that subject, but sat for a few moments puffing at his cigarette.

‘You have been down to Deux-Sèvres lately, and you were present at some ceremony there, were you not?’ he presently continued. ‘Are you quite sure of Monsieur Kahn’s financial stability?’

‘Oh, quite so!’ exclaimed Rougon. And he launched into a series of explanatory details. M. Kahn, said he, was sup­ported by a very rich English company. The shares of the railway from Niort to Angers were at a premium at the Bourse. The undertaking had very fine prospects before it.

The Emperor, however, seemed incredulous. ‘I have heard a certain amount of fear expressed,’ he said. ‘You can understand that it would be very unfortunate for your name to be mixed up with a catastrophe. However, since you tell me that there is no reason for fear — ‘ Then he again broke off and passed to a third subject. ‘Now, about the prefect of Deux-Sèvres. He is very unpopular, people tell me. He appears to have thrown everything into confusion down there. I hear, too, that he is the son of a retired process-server, whose strange vagaries are the talk of the whole department. This Monsieur du Poizat is a friend of yours, I believe?’