Complete Works of Emile Zola (447 page)

‘In my opinion,’ said the Finance Minister, concluding his remarks, ‘there is no ground whatever for such claims. The government always observes the greatest desire for economy in preparing its budgets, and so true is this that the Committee of the Chamber had no end of trouble to effect a paltry saving of a couple of millions of francs. Still, I think it would perhaps be advisable to postpone the applica­tion for three supplementary votes of credit which we con­templated making. A transfer of funds will provide us with the necessary money for the time being, and matters can be put straight later on.’
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The Emperor nodded assent. However, he hardly seemed to be listening to what was said. There was a blank, listless look about his eyes, as he sat gazing at the bright light which was streaming through the middle window in front of him. There came another interval of silence. All the ministers followed the Emperor in nodding their approval, and for a moment or two only a slight rustling could be heard. The Minister of Justice and Keeper of the Seals was turning over some leaves of manuscript. At last when he had consulted his colleagues with a glance, he began: ‘Sire, I have brought with me a memorandum relating to the creation of a new nobility. As yet it consists merely of some rough notes, which I thought it would be advisable to put before the council before proceeding any further in the matter, in order that I may profit by any hint — ‘

‘Yes, yes; read it,’ interrupted the Emperor. ‘You are quite right.’

Then he turned so as to look at the minister while the latter read the memorandum. He seemed more animated now; a yellow light had come into his grey eyes.

The Court was at that time extremely interested in this scheme for a new nobility. The government had begun by submitting to the Corps Législatif a bill which punished with fine and imprisonment anyone who might assume any title of nobility without being entitled to do so. It was a question of giving official sanction to the old titles, and of thus preparing the way for new ones. However, this bill had given rise to a heated discussion in the Chamber. Some deputies, though enthusiastically devoted to the empire, had protested that a nobility could not exist in a democratic state; and, when a division was taken, twenty-three votes had been given against the bill. The Emperor, however, still clung to his dream; and he himself had suggested some very comprehensive ideas to the Minister of Justice.

The memorandum commenced by some historical refer­ences. Then the projected scheme was detailed at length. Titles were to be conferred for different kinds of public ser­vice, so as to make the new honours accessible to all deserving citizens, a democratic arrangement which seemed to fill the minister with great enthusiasm. Then a draft of the pro­posed decree was set out, and when the minister came to the second clause of it he raised his voice and read on very slowly: ‘The title of Count shall be conferred upon the fol­lowing persons after five years’ service in their respective functions or dignities, or after we may have bestowed upon them the grand cross of the Legion of Honour: namely, our ministers and the members of our Privy Council, the cardi­nals, marshals, admirals, senators, and ambassadors, and such of the generals of division as shall have held a chief command in the field.’

The minister paused for a moment, and cast a questioning glance at the Emperor as if to ask whether he had omitted anyone. His Majesty reflected, with his head slightly inclined towards his left shoulder.

‘I think we must include the Presidents of the Corps Législatif and the Council of State,’ he said, after a pause.

The Minister of Justice nodded approbation, and hastily made a note on the margin of his manuscript. Just as he was about to resume his reading, he was interrupted by the Minister for Public Education and Worship, who wanted to call attention to an omission.

‘The archbishops — ‘ he began.

‘Excuse me,’ interrupted the Minister of Justice drily, ‘the archbishops are to be merely barons. Let me read the whole of the decree.’

However, his papers had got mixed, and he spent some time in looking for the next leaf. Rougon, who sat there with his elbows spread out and his thick neck sinking between his broad peasant shoulders, was faintly smiling; and, as he turned round, he caught sight of his neighbour, the Minister of State, the last scion of an old Norman family, likewise indulging in a quiet smile of contempt. A significant glance passed between them. The parvenu and the nobleman were evidently of the same way of thinking.

‘Ah, here it is!’ exclaimed the Minister of Justice at last. ‘Clause III. The title of baron shall be conferred, firstly, upon such members of the Corps Législatif as shall have been honoured three times with the confidence of their fellow-citizens; secondly, upon members of the Council of State of eight years’ standing; thirdly, upon the first president and the public prosecutor of the Supreme Court, upon the first president and public prosecutor of the Exchequer Court, upon the generals of division and vice-admirals, upon the arch­bishops and ministers-plenipotentiary, after five years’ service in their respective offices, or if they have attained the rank of commander in the Legion of Honour — ‘

And so the minister read on. The first presidents and public prosecutors of the appeal courts, the generals of brigade and rear-admirals, the bishops, and even the mayors of the chief cities of first-class prefectures, were in their turn all to be made barons, but on condition that they had served in their respective offices for ten years.

‘Then everybody will be a baron,’ murmured Rougon.

At this some of his colleagues, who affected to consider him a very ill-bred man, assumed grave expressions, so as to make him understand that they thought his remark in very bad taste. The Emperor, however, did not seem to have heard.

‘Well, gentlemen, what do you think of the scheme?’ his Majesty asked, when the keeper of the seals had finished his perusal.

They all hesitated, waiting as it were for a more direct question.

‘Monsieur Rougon,’ resumed the Emperor, ‘what is your opinion?’

‘Well, sire,’ replied the Minister of the Interior, with his quiet smile, ‘I cannot say that I think very favourably of it. It is exposed to the greatest of all dangers, that is to say, to ridicule. I am afraid that all those barons will merely raise a laugh. I say nothing about more serious matters, such as the sentiment of equality which is so much in the ascendant at the present time, or the vanity which such a system would tend to develop — ‘

But when he had got thus far he was interrupted by the Minister of Justice, who seemed greatly put out, and began to defend himself as though a personal attack had been made upon him. He said that he was a middle-class man himself, and the son of a middle-class father, and was quite incapable of attempting anything to impair the principles of equality held by modern society. The new nobility was going to be a ‘democratic nobility,’ and this expression ‘democratic nobi­lity ‘seemed to convey his idea so perfectly that he repeated it several times over. Then Rougon briefly replied, still smiling and unruffled. But the Minister of Justice, a little lean, dark man, at last began to indulge in somewhat offen­sive personalities. The Emperor meantime held himself aloof from the dispute, and with a slight swaying of the shoulders, again gazed at the sunlight streaming through the window in front of him. However, when the voices of the others finally grew so loud as to interfere with his sense of dignity, he mur­mured: ‘Gentlemen, gentlemen.’ And after a pause, he added: ‘Monsieur Rougon is perhaps right. The scheme is not quite ripe yet. We shall have to consider if it cannot be put upon another basis. We can see to that later on.’

Then the council took some minor matters in hand. The newspaper
Le Siècle
became the subject of a deal of talk, for it had just published an article which had given great offence at Court. A week never passed without those about the Emperor entreating him to suppress this journal, which was the only Republican organ still in existence. His Majesty, however, was personally inclined to be indulgent towards the press, and often amused himself, in the secrecy of his study, by writing long articles in reply to the attacks which were made upon his government. An unacknowledged dream of his was to have a newspaper of his own, in which he might pub­lish manifestoes and engage in polemical discussions. How­ever, he that day decided that a warning should be addressed to the
Siècle.

Their excellencies now thought that the council was over, as was evident from the manner in which they sat on the very edges of their chairs. Indeed, the Minister for War, a general who looked very much bored, and who had not spoken a word during the whole sitting, had already taken his gloves from his pocket, when Rougon leant heavily on the table.

‘Sire,’ he said, ‘I desire to speak to the council of a con­flict which has arisen between the licensing committee and myself with respect to a book which has been presented for authorisation.’

The other ministers thereupon ensconced themselves in their chairs again. The Emperor turned towards Rougon and with a nod authorised him to continue.

Rougon then entered into details. He no longer smiled, his good-natured expression had quite vanished. He leant over the table, and, sweeping the cloth as it were with a regular mechanical movement of his right hand, he stated that he had determined to preside at one of the recent meet­ings of the committee in order to stimulate the zeal of its members. ‘I pointed out to them,’ said he, ‘the views of the government as to the improvements it was desirable for them to effect in the important branch of the public service with which they are entrusted. The
colportage
system,
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I told them, would be a source of grave danger if it were allowed to become a weapon in the hands of the revolutionists, and should prove a means of reviving political discussions and ill-will. So it is the duty of the committee, I said, to reject all publica­tions which might foment afresh such passions as are unsuited to the present time. It ought, on the other hand, to en­courage those healthy works which teach the worship of God, the love of one’s country, and gratitude to one’s Sovereign.’

The other ministers, although very cross at being thus detained in council, felt constrained to bow approvingly on hearing these last words.

‘The number of pernicious books increases every day,’ continued Rougon. ‘They form a rising flood against which we cannot take sufficiently energetic steps for protecting our country. Out of every dozen books that are published, eleven and a half are only fit to be thrown into the fire. That is the average. Never before have wicked sentiments, subversive theories, and anti-social monstrosities of all kinds, found so many exponents. I am occasionally compelled to read cer­tain publications; well, I tell you — ‘

At this moment the Minister for Public Education ventured on an interruption. ‘Novels,’ he began.

‘I never read novels,’ retorted Rougon drily.

His colleague made a gesture of virtuous protest, and rolled his eyes in a shocked sort of way, as though he also repudiated all reading of novels. Then he explained himself, saying: ‘I merely wanted to remark that novels are an especially poisonous food offered to the unhealthy curiosity of the people.’

‘Doubtless,’ replied the Minister of the Interior; ‘but there are other works quite as dangerous. I am speaking of those cheap treatises which disseminate among the peasantry and the working-classes a heap of false social and economic science, the most evident effect of which is to seriously dis­turb weak brains. A work of the kind to which I am alluding, “Friend Jacques’s Evening Chats,” has just been submitted to the committee for consideration. It is the story of a sergeant who comes back to his native village and holds dis­cussions with the school-master every Sunday evening in the presence of a score of labourers. Each discussion is upon a different subject, such as new systems of cultivation, trades unions, and the great part which the producer plays in society. I have read this book, to which one of the clerks called my attention, and it seems to me to be all the more dangerous since it veils its baleful theories beneath a pretended admira­tion for the imperial institutions. No one can be deceived by it, however; it is clearly the production of a demagogue. And so I was extremely surprised when I heard some members of the committee speak of it in eulogistic terms. I have dis­cussed certain passages of it with them, but apparently with­out convincing them. The author, they have assured me, has even offered a copy of the book for your Majesty’s accept­ance. On that account, sire, I thought it right, before taking any active steps, to ask for your opinion and that of the council.’

So saying Rougon fixed his glance on the Emperor, whose shifty eyes at last settled on a paper-knife which was lying on the table in front of him. His Majesty took up the knife and began to turn and twist it while murmuring: ‘Yes, yes, “Friend Jacques’s Evening Chats — “‘

Then, without committing himself any further, he glanced to the right and left of the table. ‘You have perhaps seen the book, gentlemen. I should be very glad to know — ‘

Then he stopped again. The ministers glanced furtively at one another, each hoping that his neighbour would speak and express an opinion. The silence, however, continued un­broken, and the feeling of constraint increased. It seemed clear that none of them had even known of the existence of the book. At last the Minister for War took it upon himself to express by a gesture the general ignorance which prevailed of the publication in question.

The Emperor twisted his moustaches, showing no sign of haste. ‘Well, Monsieur Delestang, have you anything to say?’ he eventually inquired.

Delestang was restlessly moving on his chair, as though a prey to some inward struggle. This direct question seemed to decide him; however, before speaking, he glanced involun­tarily towards Rougon. ‘I have had the book in my hands, sire,’ he said.

He checked himself, feeling that Rougon’s big grey eyes were fixed upon him; but then, observing the Emperor’s satisfaction, he began to speak again, though his lips could be seen quivering slightly. ‘I regret that I find myself in dis­agreement with my friend and colleague the Minister of the Interior. Certainly the publication in question might be less sweeping in some parts and insist more than it does upon that prudent deliberation with which all really useful progress must be accomplished. Still, “Friend Jacques’s Evening Chats” seems to me to have been conceived with most excel­lent intentions. The hopes which are expressed in it for the future evince no hostility to imperial institutions. On the contrary, indeed, they are what the legitimate expansion of our institutions may lead us to expect.’