Complete Works of Emile Zola (1793 page)

By a sign he again secured attention, and wound up with these words:

“I consider myself authorised, by reason of my long experience, to be the first to give you my advice on this delicate subject. I will do so with all the modesty which beseems a simple member of this assembly; but also with all the authority of a beast who is convinced. That is to say, I despair of our future unity if my dish is not unanimously accepted. On my soul and conscience, having long meditated on the food which would suit us best, taking into consideration our common interests, I declare, I affirm resolutely, that nothing will satisfy the stomach and the heart of each of us, so well as a large slice of raw meat eaten in the morning, a second slice at noon, and a third at night.”

The lion paused to receive the just applause that his proposal seemed to him to deserve. He was of good faith, and was astonished at the paucity of grunts. Farewell unanimity. The assembly no longer approved with absolute unreserve. The wolves and remaining wild beasts, the birds and insects of sanguinary appetites, applauded the excellence of the choice But animals of other species, those which live in the meadows or at the edges of pools, bore witness, by their silence and sad expressions, to the slight civilising virtue they granted flesh.

Some minutes elapsed full of enmity and uneasiness. One risks much in disputing the advice of the powerful, especially when they talk in the name of fraternity. At length a sheep more venturesome than her sisters, decided on speaking.

“As we are here,” she said, “to express our opinions frankly, let me give you mine with the simplicity which suits my nature. I admit that I have no experience of the dish proposed by my brother the lion; it may be excellent for the stomach, and of exquisite taste; I must ask to be excused in regard to that point of the discussion. But I think this food would have a bad influence on morality. One of the firmest foundations of our progress should be respect for life; it is not respecting it to feed ourselves on dead bodies. Does not my brother the lion fear being led astray by his zeal, of starting an endless war, in selecting such an ordinary, instead of arriving at that beautiful unity he spoke of so eloquently? I know we are honest beasts; it is not a question of devouring one another. Far from me so evil a thought. Since men declare they can eat us without ceasing to be good souls, creatures according to the spirit of God, we can surely eat men and remain good, brotherly animals aiming at absolute perfection. Yet I fear evil temptations, force of habit, if some day men become scarce. Therefore I cannot vote for such an imprudent diet. Believe me, one dish alone agrees with us, a food which the earth produces in abundance, healthy, refreshing, easy and amusing to collect, and extremely varied. O the luxuriant feasts, my good brothers! Lucerne, vegetables, all the grasses of the plain, all the herbs of the hillside! I speak advisedly without afterthought; moved only by the innocent desire to live without killing. I tell you truly, apart from vegetarianism, there will be no unanimity.”

The sheep ceased speaking and stealthily endeavoured to judge the effect produced by her speech. Some faintly expressed assent, rose from the quarter of the assembly occupied by horses, oxen, and other consumers of corn and herbage. As to the beasts which had approved the lion’s choice, they appeared to welcome this new proposal with strange disdain, and a grimace boding ill for the orator.

A silkworm, near-sighted and devoid of tact, then began to speak. He was an austere philosopher, troubling little about the judgment of others, preaching good for good’s sake.

“To live without killing,” said he, “is a fine maxim. I can only applaud the conclusion arrived at by my sister the sheep. But my sister seems to me very gluttonous. We seek for one dish and she offers us fifty; she even seems to enjoy the thought of a princely menu with numerous dishes of varied flavour. Does she forget that sobriety and a disdain for tasty morsels are virtues necessary to beasts who pride themselves on their progress? The future of a society depends on its food: to eat little and of one dish only, is the sole means of hastening the advent of high, strong, and durable civilisation. I therefore propose, for my part, that we keep our appetites in check, and especially that we content ourselves with one kind of leaf. The choice being merely a matter of taste, I hope to satisfy every one’s by selecting the mulberry leaf.”

“Come, you old dotard,” exclaimed a pelican, “are we not thin enough without running the risk of getting a stomach-ache through feeding on damp vegetation? Fraternise with the sheep. I would agree with my brother the lion, but that I think he has made a mistake in proposing red flesh. Flesh alone gives the body the strength to do good, but I mean fish’s flesh, white and delicate; that is a savoury food which every one likes. In conclusion, and this last argument must convince you, as the seas occupy twice the space of the continents on the globe, we could not have a more extensive larder. My brothers will appreciate these reasons.”

The brothers abstained from understanding. In order to end the debate they thought it well to shout all at once. There were as many opinions as animals; no two poor minds agreeing together, no two natures alike. Each creature started gesticulating, speechifying, suggesting his food, defending it on the score of morality and gluttony. To believe them, if all the proposed dishes had been accepted, the entire world would have been made into a stew; there was nothing which was not declared to be excellent food, from leaf to wood, flesh to stone. Deep knowledge, as Médéric said, showing what the earth is, namely, a fœtus but half alive, wherein life and death hold in our day contests of equal strength.

In the midst of this tumult, a young cat exerted himself to make the assembly understand that he wished to impart a decisive truth to it. He made such good use of his claws and throat that he succeeded in obtaining some quiet.

“Well,” said he, “my good brethren, for pity’s sake cease this discussion which grieves all tender hearts here present My own bleeds at the sight of this painful scene. Alas! we are far from the gentle customs and wise sayings which for my part I have sought from my youth up. This is a fine subject for a quarrel, a wretched question of food, the sustenance of a perishable body! Collect your minds, and you will laugh at your anger and abandon this miserable dispute. The more or less felicitous choice of a paltry article of diet, is not worth occupying our thoughts for a moment Let us live as we have done, merely troubling about moral reforms. Brethren, let us philosophise and drink our bowl of milk! After all, milk has a pleasant taste; I think it preferable to the dishes by which you seek to replace it.”

Frightful yells greeted these last words. The young cat’s unfortunate suggestion ended by making the animals furious, recalling to their minds the tasteless beverage, with which they had washed their insides for three long months. They were seized with terrible hunger, sharpened by great anger. Nature gained the upper hand. In a moment they forgot the good manners due between civilised animals and simply flew at one another’s throats. Those who had chosen flesh, having come to the end of their arguments, found it easier to preach by example. The others, having no corn, or herbage, or fish, or other dish to avenge themselves on, were content to facilitate the vengeance of their brethren.

For some minutes there was a horrible commotion. The number of famished was rapidly diminishing, without a single wounded animal remaining on the ground. It was a strange struggle in which the dead fell no one knew where. The devourer had barely time to satisfy himself, when he, in his turn, was devoured. They fattened one another; the feast began with the weakest to end with the strongest. After a quarter of an hour the ground was clear. Ten or twelve wild beasts in all, seated on their haunches, with half closed eyes, and languid limbs, satiated with food, were complacently licking their jaws.

The model school had therefore had for result the greatest possible unity, that which consists in assimilating another’s soul and body to one’s self. Perhaps this is the unity that man has a vague idea of, the final goal, the mysterious work of those worlds tending to confound all creatures in one being. But what bitter raillery of the thoughts of our age that promise perfection and fraternity to creatures possessing different instincts and habits, particles of dust wherein the same breath of life produces contrary effects! Without philosophising further, lions are lions.

“Brother Médéric,” said Sidoine, “there are in front of us ten or twelve scoundrels who have a heavy weight of sins on their consciences. They have spoken as well as possible, but have acted like bullies. Let me see if my fists have grown cramped.”

Saying this, he struck a blow on the shed which pulverised the beams and shattered the hewn stone to pieces. The remaining animals, the sole hope of brute regeneration, did not utter a cry. Médéric seemed to regret this execution.

“Come! my beauty,” he exclaimed. “Why did you not consult me? That blow will bring you sadness and remorse. Listen to me.”

“What! brother, have I not struck justly?”

“Yes, according to the idea we have of right. But, between ourselves, and I say it softly so as not to disturb a necessary belief, are not good and evil part of human creation? Does a wolf really commit crime when he eats a lamb? Man, the friend of the lamb, who would take him a dish of vegetables, is he not more ridiculous than the wolf is guilty?”

“Brother, do you mean to draw from this a logical conclusion, that good and evil do not exist?”

“Perhaps so, my beauty. You see we too often seek to hasten the time appointed by God. There are certain laws, no doubt, of divine origin, which we cannot account for, and to which we have given the ugly name of fatalities. We admit, by a rare blasphemy, that evil may have been created, and we set ourselves up as judges, rewarding and punishing because our intellect is too feeble to grasp everything, and to show us that all is good in the sight of God Perceive the absurd justice of your blow. You have punished these beasts for acting according to the laws by which they must live. You judged them egotistically, from the purely human standpoint, influenced especially by that fear of death which has given man respect for life. In short, you were scandalised at seeing one race devour another, when you yourself do not scruple to feed on the flesh of both.”

“Brother Médéric, speak more clearly, or I shall not feel the least remorse for my blow.”

“I understand you, my beauty. After all I am willing: evil exists, and this dispenses me with proving that absolute good is impossible. Besides, the ruins on which we are seated are a proof of it. But, tell me, did you wish to eat these wild animals?”

“Certainly not. I am not partial to big game.”

“Then, my dear fellow, why kill them?”

Sidoine looked very foolish when this question was put to him. He sought for an answer which he did not find. The greatest surprise was depicted in his large blue eyes. Then, as a man who has at last discovered a truth, he exclaimed: “Why, my blow was absurd, as you said. One should only kill to eat. That is a very practical precept which embodies, in the highest degree, the relative and human justice of which you have told me. Men should write it in letters of gold on the walls of their tribunals and on the standards of their armies. Alas! my poor fists! One should only kill to eat.”

XII

MORAL

The sun had just disappeared behind the western hills. The earth, veiled in a soft shadow, was already half slumbering, pensive and melancholy. A white opaque sky overhung the horizon. There comes each evening a time of great sadness; it is not yet night, light is fading slowly away as though regretfully; and man in this farewell, feels strange anxiety, a great need of hope and faith in his heart The first rays of morning bring songs to one’s lips; the last rays of evening bring tears to one’s eyes. Is it the dispiriting thought of labour constantly resumed, unceasingly abandoned; the eager wish, mingled with dread, for eternal rest? Is it the resemblance of everything human to that slow agony of light and sound?

Sidoine and Médéric had seated themselves on the ruins of the shed. A star shone above the dark branches of an oak tree, amid the evanescence of earth and sky. And they both looked at this consoling light, piercing with a ray of hope the mournful veil of twilight.

The sound of a sobbing voice brought their eyes back to the path. They beheld Primrose, all white in the darkness, advancing towards them between the hedges. She came along slowly with hair unbound.

She seated herself by Médéric’s side. Then, resting her head on his shoulder, said:

“O friend, how wicked animals are!”

And clasping her hands together she wept freely, letting the tears run down her cheeks without seeking to wipe them away.

“Poor despised creatures,” she continued, “I loved them like sisters. I thought that by petting them, I had made them forget their fangs and claws. Is it then so difficult to keep from being cruel?”

Médéric was careful not to answer. The science of good and evil was not intended for this child.

“Tell me,” said he, “are you not the charming Primrose, queen of the Kingdom of the Happy?”

“Yes,” she replied, “I am Primrose.”

“Then, my darling, dry your tears. I am come to marry you.”

Primrose wiped her eyes; and placing her hands in Médéric’s, she gazed into his face.

“I am only an ignorant creature,” she said softly. “Here are wicked eyes, which however do not frighten me. There is kindness, beneath I know not what sad raillery, in those orbs. Do you need my caresses to become better?”

“I need them,” answered Médéric; “I have travelled the world and am weary.”

“Heaven is kind,” resumed the child. “It does not allow my love rest I will marry you, dear lord.”

Having said this she again sat down. She was thinking of that feeling of unknown pity which was rising within her; she had never before experienced such a desire to console. She inquired of herself, in her simplicity, whether she had not at last discovered the mission entrusted by God to the tender-hearted and charitable young queens of this world. Men enjoy such perfect happiness that they get vexed at the slightest favour; animals have a bad character difficult to understand. Surely, since Heaven had given her tears and the inclination to caress, she could not in her turn bestow them upon any other creature save her dear lord, who had told her he stood in great need of them. To conceal nothing, she felt herself quite another being; she no longer thought of her people, she completely forgot her poor pupils on whose tomb she was sitting. Her love, offered to all creation, and which creation refused, had just become greater in being fixed on a single being. She was lost in this infinity, heedless of the world, ignorant of evil, realising that she was obeying God, and that one hour of such ecstasy is preferable to a thousand years of progress and civilisation.