At this moment the division
of Monsieur de la Billardiere
was in a state of unusual excitement,
resulting very naturally from
the event which was about to
happen; for heads of divisions
do not die every day, and there
is no insurance office where
the chances of life and death
are calculated with more sagacity
than in a government bureau.
Self-interest stifles all compassion,
as it does in children, but the
government service adds hypocrisy
to boot.
The clerks of the bureau Baudoyer
arrived at eight o'clock in the
morning, whereas those of the
bureau Rabourdin seldom appeared
till nine,--a circumstance which
did not prevent the work in the
latter office from being more
rapidly dispatched than that
of the former. Dutocq had important
reasons for coming early on this
particular morning. The previous
evening he had furtively entered
the study where Sebastien was
at work, and had seen him copying
some papers for Rabourdin; he
concealed himself until he saw
Sebastien leave the premises
without taking any papers away
with him. Certain, therefore,
of finding the rather voluminous
memorandum which he had seen,
together with its copy, in some
corner of the study, he searched
through the boxes one after another
until he finally came upon the
fatal list. He carried it in
hot haste to an autograph-printing
house, where he obtained two
pressed copies of the memorandum,
showing, of course, Rabourdin's
own writing. Anxious not to arouse
suspicion, he had gone very early
to the office and replaced both
the memorandum and Sebastien's
copy in the box from which he
had taken them. Sebastien, who
was kept up till after midnight
at Madame Rabourdin's party,
was, in spite of his desire to
get to the office early, preceded
by the spirit of hatred. Hatred
lived in the rue Saint-Louis-Saint-Honore,
whereas love and devotion lived
far-off in the rue du Roi-Dore
in the Marais. This slight delay
was destined to affect Rabourdin's
whole career.
Sebastien opened his box eagerly,
found the memorandum and his
own unfinished copy all in order,
and locked them at once into
the desk as Rabourdin had directed.
The mornings are dark in these
offices towards the end of December,
sometimes indeed the lamps are
lit till after ten o'clock; consequently
Sebastien did not happen to notice
the pressure of the copying-machine
upon the paper. But when, about
half-past nine o'clock, Rabourdin
looked at his memorandum he saw
at once the effects of the copying
process, and all the more readily
because he was then considering
whether these autographic presses
could not be made to do the work
of copying clerks.
"Did any one get to the office
before you?" he asked.
"Yes," replied Sebastien,--"Monsieur
Dutocq."
"Ah! well,
he was punctual. Send Antoine
to me."
Too noble to distress Sebastien
uselessly by blaming him for
a misfortune now beyond remedy,
Rabourdin said no more. Antoine
came. Rabourdin asked if any
clerk had remained at the office
after four o'clock the previous
evening. The man replied that
Monsieur Dutocq had worked there
later than Monsieur de la Roche,
who was usually the last to leave.
Rabourdin dismissed him with
a nod, and resumed the thread
of his reflections.
"Twice I have prevented his
dismissal," he said to himself, "and
this is my reward."
This morning was to Rabourdin
like the solemn hour in which
great commanders decide upon
a battle and weigh all chances.
Knowing the spirit of official
life better than any one, he
well knew that it would never
pardon, any more than a school
or the galleys or the army pardon,
what looked like espionage or
tale-bearing. A man capable of
informing against his comrades
is disgraced, dishonored, despised;
the ministers in such a case
would disavow their own agents.
Nothing was left to an official
so placed but to send in his
resignation and leave Paris;
his honor is permanently stained;
explanations are of no avail;
no one will either ask for them
or listen to them. A minister
may well do the same thing and
be thought a great man, able
to choose the right instruments;
but a mere subordinate will be
judged as a spy, no matter what
may be his motives. While justly
measuring the folly of such judgment,
Rabourdin knew that it was all-powerful;
and he knew, too, that he was
crushed. More surprised than
overwhelmed, he now sought for
the best course to follow under
the circumstances; and with such
thoughts in his mind he was necessarily
aloof from the excitement caused
in the division by the death
of Monsieur de la Billardiere;
in fact he did not hear of it
until young La Briere, who was
able to appreciate his sterling
value, came to tell him. About
ten o'clock, in the bureau Baudoyer,
Bixiou was relating the last
moments of the life of the director
to Minard, Desroys, Monsieur
Godard, whom he had called from
his private office, and Dutocq,
who had rushed in with private
motives of his own. Colleville
and Chazelle were absent.
Bixiou [standing
with his back to the stove
and holding up the
sole of each boot alternately
to dry at the open door]. "This
morning, at half- past seven,
I went to inquire after our most
worthy and respectable director,
knight of the order of Christ,
et caetera, et caetera. Yes,
gentlemen, last night he was
a being with twenty et caeteras,
to-day he is nothing, not even
a government clerk. I asked all
particulars of his nurse. She
told me that this morning at
five o'clock he became uneasy
about the royal family. He asked
for the names of all the clerks
who had called to inquire after
him; and then he said: 'Fill
my snuff-box, give me the newspaper,
bring my spectacles, and change
my ribbon of the Legion of honor,--it
is very dirty.' I suppose you
know he always wore his orders
in bed. He was fully conscious,
retained his senses and all his
usual ideas. But, presto! ten
minutes later the water rose,
rose, rose and flooded his chest;
he knew he was dying for he felt
the cysts break. At that fatal
moment he gave evident proof
of his powerful mind and vast
intellect. Ah, we never rightly
appreciated him! We used to laugh
at him and call him a booby--didn't
you, Monsieur Godard?"
Godard. "I?
I always rated Monsieur de
la Billardiere's
talents higher than the rest
of you."
Bixiou. "You
and he could understand each
other!"
Godard. "He
wasn't a bad man; he never
harmed any one."
Bixiou. "To
do harm you must do something,
and he never did
anything. If it wasn't you who
said he was a dolt, it must have
been Minard."
Minard [shrugging
his shoulders]. "I!"
Bixiou. "Well, then it was
you, Dutocq!" [Dutocq made a
vehement gesture of denial.] "Oh!
very good, then it was nobody.
Every one in this office knew
his intellect was herculean.
Well, you were right. He ended,
as I have said, like the great
man that he was."
Desroys [impatiently]. "Pray
what did he do that was so great?
he had the weakness to confess
himself."
Bixiou. "Yes,
monsieur, he received the holy
sacraments.
But do you know what he did in
order to receive them? He put
on his uniform as gentleman-in-ordinary
of the Bedchamber, with all his
orders, and had himself powdered;
they tied his queue (that poor
queue!) with a fresh ribbon.
Now I say that none but a man
of remarkable character would
have his queue tied with a fresh
ribbon just as he was dying.
There are eight of us here, and
I don't believe one among us
is capable of such an act. But
that's not all; he said,--for
you know all celebrated men make
a dying speech; he said,--stop
now, what did he say? Ah! he
said, 'I must attire myself to
meet the King of Heaven,--I,
who have so often dressed in
my best for audience with the
kings of earth.' That's how Monsieur
de la Billardiere departed this
life. He took upon himself to
justify the saying of Pythagoras,
'No man is known until he dies.'"
Colleville
[rushing in]. "Gentlemen,
great news!"
All. "We know
it."
Colleville. "I
defy you to know it! I have
been hunting
for it ever since the accession
of His Majesty to the thrones
of France and of Navarre. Last
night I succeeded! but with what
labor! Madame Colleville asked
me what was the matter."
Dutocq. "Do
you think we have time to bother
ourselves with
your intolerable anagrams when
the worthy Monsieur de la Billardiere
has just expired?"
Colleville. "That's Bixiou's
nonsense! I have just come from
Monsieur de la Billardiere's;
he is still living, though they
expect him to die soon." [Godard,
indignant at the hoax, goes off
grumbling.] "Gentlemen! you would
never guess what extraordinary
events are revealed by the anagram
of this sacramental sentence" [he
pulls out a piece of paper and
reads], "Charles dix, par la
grace de Dieu, roi de France
et de Navarre."
Godard [re-entering]. "Tell
what it is at once, and don't
keep people waiting."
Colleville
[triumphantly unfolding the
rest of the paper]. "Listen!
"A H. V. il
cedera; De S. C. l. d. partira;
Eh nauf errera,
Decide a Gorix.
"Every letter is there!" [He
repeats it.] "A Henry cinq cedera
(his crown of course); de Saint-Cloud
partira; en nauf (that's an old
French word for skiff, vessel,
felucca, corvette, anything you
like) errera--"
Dutocq. "What
a tissue of absurdities! How
can the King cede his crown
to Henry V., who, according to
your nonsense, must be his grandson,
when Monseigneur le Dauphin is
living. Are you prophesying the
Dauphin's death?"
Bixiou. "What's
Gorix, pray?--the name of a
cat?"
Colleville
[provoked]. "It
is the archaeological and lapidarial
abbreviation of the name of a
town, my good friend; I looked
it out in Malte-Brun: Goritz,
in Latin Gorixia, situated in
Bohemia or Hungary, or it may
be Austria--"
Bixiou. "Tyrol,
the Basque provinces, or South
America.
Why don't you set it all to music
and play it on the clarionet?"
Godard [shrugging
his shoulders and departing]. "What
utter nonsense!"
Colleville. "Nonsense!
nonsense indeed! It is a pity
you don't
take the trouble to study fatalism,
the religion of the Emperor Napoleon."
Godard [irritated
at Colleville's tone]. "Monsieur
Colleville, let me tell you
that Bonaparte
may perhaps be styled Emperor
by historians, but it is extremely
out of place to refer to him
as such in a government office."
Bixiou [laughing]. "Get
an anagram out of that, my
dear
fellow."
Colleville
[angrily]. "Let
me tell you that if Napoleon
Bonaparte had studied the letters
of his name on the 14th of April,
1814, he might perhaps be Emperor
still."
Bixiou. "How
do you make that out?"
Colleville
[solemnly]. "Napoleon
Bonaparte.--No, appear not at
Elba!"
Dutocq. "You'll
lose your place for talking
such nonsense."
Colleville. "If my place is
taken from me, Francois Keller
will make it hot for your minister." [Dead
silence.] "I'd have you to know,
Master Dutocq, that all known
anagrams have actually come to
pass. Look here,--you, yourself,--don't
you marry, for there's 'coqu'
in your name."
Bixiou [interrupting]. "And
d, t, for de-testable."
Dutocq [without
seeming angry]. "I
don't care, as long as it is
only in my name. Why don't you
anagrammatize, or whatever you
call it, 'Xavier Rabourdin, chef
du bureau'?"
Colleville. "Bless
you, so I have!"
Bixiou [mending
his pen]. "And
what did you make of it?"
Colleville. "It comes out as
follows: D'abord reva bureaux,
E-u,--(you catch the meaning?
et eut--and had) E-u fin riche;
which signifies that after first
belonging to the administration,
he gave it up and got rich elsewhere." [Repeats.] "D'abord
reva bureaux, E-u fin riche."
Dutocq. "That
IS queer!"
Bixiou. "Try
Isidore Baudoyer."
Colleville
[mysteriously]. "I
sha'n't tell the other anagrams
to any one but Thuillier."
Bixiou. "I'll
bet you a breakfast that I
can tell that one myself."
Colleville. "And
I'll pay if you find it out."
Bixiou. "Then
I shall breakfast at your expense;
but you won't
be angry, will you? Two such
geniuses as you and I need never
conflict. 'Isidore Baudoyer'
anagrams into 'Ris d'aboyeur
d'oie.'"
Colleville
[petrified with amazement]. "You
stole it from me!"
Bixiou [with
dignity]. "Monsieur
Colleville, do me the honor to
believe that I am rich enough
in absurdity not to steal my
neighbor's nonsense."
Baudoyer [entering
with a bundle of papers in
his hand]. "Gentlemen,
I request you to shout a little
louder; you bring this office
into such high repute with the
administration. My worthy coadjutor,
Monsieur Clergeot, did me the
honor just now to come and ask
a question, and he heard the
noise you are making" [passes
into Monsieur Godard's room].
Bixiou [in
a low voice]. "The
watch-dog is very tame this morning;
there'll be a change of weather
before night."
Dutocq [whispering
to Bixiou]. "I
have something I want to say
to you."
Bixiou [fingering
Dutocq's waistcoat]. "You've
a pretty waistcoat, that cost
you nothing;
is that what you want to say?"
Dutocq. "Nothing,
indeed! I never paid so dear
for anything
in my life. That stuff cost six
francs a yard in the best shop
in the rue de la Paix,--a fine
dead stuff, the very thing for
deep mourning."
Bixiou. "You
know about engravings and such
things, my dear fellow,
but you are totally ignorant
of the laws of etiquette. Well,
no man can be a universal genius!
Silk is positively not admissible
in deep mourning. Don't you see
I am wearing woollen? Monsieur
Rabourdin, Monsieur Baudoyer,
and the minister are all in woollen;
so is the faubourg Saint-Germain.
There's no one here but Minard
who doesn't wear woollen; he's
afraid of being taken for a sheep.
That's the reason why he didn't
put on mourning for Louis XVIII."
[During this conversation Baudoyer
is sitting by the fire in Godard's
room, and the two are conversing
in a low voice.]
Baudoyer. "Yes, the worthy
man is dying. The two ministers
are both with him. My father-in-law
has been notified of the event.
If you want to do me a signal
service you will take a cab and
go and let Madame Baudoyer know
what is happening; for Monsieur
Saillard can't leave his desk,
nor I my office. Put yourself
at my wife's orders; do whatever
she wishes. She has, I believe,
some ideas of her own, and wants
to take certain steps simultaneously." [The
two functionaries go out together.]
Godard. "Monsieur
Bixiou, I am obliged to leave
the office
for the rest of the day. You
will take my place."
Baudoyer [to
Bixiou, benignly]. "Consult
me, if there is any necessity."
Bixiou. "This
time, La Billardiere is really
dead."
Dutocq [in
Bixiou's ear]. "Come
outside a minute." [The two go
into the corridor and gaze at
each other like birds of ill-omen.]
Dutocq [whispering]. "Listen.
Now is the time for us to understand
each other and push our way.
What would you say to your being
made head of the bureau, and
I under you?"
Bixiou [shrugging
his shoulders]. "Come,
come, don't talk nonsense!"
Dutocq. "If
Baudoyer gets La Billardiere's
place Rabourdin
won't stay on where he is. Between
ourselves, Baudoyer is so incapable
that if du Bruel and you don't
help him he will certainly be
dismissed in a couple of months.
If I know arithmetic that will
give three empty places for us
to fill--"
Bixiou. "Three
places right under our noses,
which will certainly
be given to some bloated favorite,
some spy, some pious fraud,--to
Colleville perhaps, whose wife
has ended where all pretty women
end-- in piety."
Dutocq. "No, to YOU, my dear
fellow, if you will only, for
once in your life, use your wits
logically." [He stopped as if
to study the effect of his adverb
in Bixiou's face.] "Come, let
us play fair."
Bixiou [stolidly]. "Let
me see your game."
Dutocq. "I
don't wish to be anything more
than under-head-clerk.
I know myself perfectly well,
and I know I haven't the ability,
like you, to be head of a bureau.
Du Bruel can be director, and
you the head of this bureau;
he will leave you his place as
soon as he has made his pile;
and as for me, I shall swim with
the tide comfortably, under your
protection, till I can retire
on a pension."
Bixiou. "Sly
dog! but how to you expect
to carry out a plan
which means forcing the minister's
hand and ejecting a man of talent?
Between ourselves, Rabourdin
is the only man capable of taking
charge of the division, and I
might say of the ministry. Do
you know that they talk of putting
in over his head that solid lump
of foolishness, that cube of
idiocy, Baudoyer?"
Dutocq [consequentially]. "My
dear fellow, I am in a position
to rouse the whole division against
Rabourdin. You know how devoted
Fleury is to him? Well, I can
make Fleury despise him."
Bixiou. "Despised
by Fleury!"
Dutocq. "Not
a soul will stand by Rabourdin;
the clerks will
go in a body and complain of
him to the minister,--not only
in our division, but in all the
divisions--"
Bixiou. "Forward,
march! infantry, cavalry, artillery,
and marines
of the guard! You rave, my good
fellow! And I, what part am I
to take in the business?"
Dutocq. "You
are to make a cutting caricature,--sharp
enough
to kill a man."
Bixiou. "How
much will you pay for it?"
Dutocq. "A
hundred francs."
Bixiou [to
himself]. "Then
there is something in it."
Dutocq [continuing]. "You
must represent Rabourdin dressed
as
a butcher (make it a good likeness),
find analogies between a kitchen
and a bureau, put a skewer in
his hand, draw portraits of the
principal clerks and stick their
heads on fowls, put them in a
monstrous coop labelled 'Civil
Service executions'; make him
cutting the throat of one, and
supposed to take the others in
turn. You can have geese and
ducks with heads like ours,--you
understand! Baudoyer, for instance,
he'll make an excellent turkey-buzzard."
Bixiou. "Ris d'aboyeur d'oie!" [He
has watched Dutocq carefully
for some time.] "Did you think
of that yourself?"
Dutocq. "Yes,
I myself."
Bixiou [to
himself]. "Do evil
feelings bring men to the same
result as talents?" [Aloud] "Well,
I'll do it" [Dutocq makes a motion
of delight] "--when" [full stop] "--I
know where I am and what I can
rely on. If you don't succeed
I shall lose my place, and I
must make a living. You are a
curious kind of innocent still,
my dear colleague."
Dutocq. "Well,
you needn't make the lithograph
till success
is proved."
Bixiou. "Why
don't you come out and tell
me the whole truth?"
Dutocq. "I must first see how
the land lays in the bureau;
we will talk about it later" [goes
off].
Bixiou [alone
in the corridor]. "That
fish, for he's more a fish than
a bird, that Dutocq has a good
idea in his head--I'm sure I
don't know where he stole it.
If Baudoyer should succeed La
Billardiere it would be fun,
more than fun--profit!" [Returns
to the office.] "Gentlemen, I
announce glorious changes; papa
La Billardiere is dead, really
dead,-- no nonsense, word of
honor! Godard is off on business
for our excellent chief Baudoyer,
successor presumptive to the
deceased." [Minard, Desroys,
and Colleville raise their heads
in amazement; they all lay down
their pens, and Colleville blows
his nose.] "Every one of us is
to be promoted! Colleville will
be under-head-clerk at the very
least. Minard may have my place
as chief clerk--why not? he is
quite as dull as I am. Hey, Minard,
if you should get twenty-five
hundred francs a-year your little
wife would be uncommonly pleased,
and you could buy yourself a
pair of boots now and then."
Colleville. "But
you don't get twenty-five hundred
francs."
Bixiou. "Monsieur
Dutocq gets that in Rabourdin's
office; why
shouldn't I get it this year?
Monsieur Baudoyer gets it."
Colleville. "Only
through the influence of Monsieur
Saillard.
No other chief clerk gets that
in any of the divisions."
Paulmier. "Bah!
Hasn't Monsieur Cochin three
thousand? He succeeded
Monsieur Vavasseur, who served
ten years under the Empire at
four thousand. His salary was
dropped to three when the King
first returned; then to two thousand
five hundred before Vavasseur
died. But Monsieur Cochin, who
succeeded him, had influence
enough to get the salary put
back to three thousand."
Colleville. "Monsieur
Cochin signs E. A. L. Cochin
(he is
named Emile- Adolphe-Lucian),
which, when anagrammed, gives
Cochineal. Now observe, he's
a partner in a druggist's business
in the rue des Lombards, the
Maison Matifat, which made its
fortune by that identical colonial
product."
Baudoyer [entering]. "Monsieur
Chazelle, I see, is not here;
you will be good enough to say
I asked for him, gentlemen."
Bixiou [who
had hastily stuck a hat on
Chazelle's chair when
he heard Baudoyer's step]. "Excuse
me, Monsieur, but Chazelle has
gone to the Rabourdins' to make
an inquiry."
Chazelle [entering
with his hat on his head, and
not seeing
Baudoyer]. "La Billardiere is
done for, gentlemen! Rabourdin
is head of the division and Master
of petitions; he hasn't stolen
HIS promotion, that's very certain."
Baudoyer [to
Chazelle]. "You
found that appointment in your
second hat, I presume" [points
to the hat on the chair]. "This
is the third time within a month
that you have come after nine
o'clock. If you continue the
practice you will get on--elsewhere." [To
Bixiou, who is reading the newspaper.] "My
dear Monsieur Bixiou, do pray
leave the newspapers to these
gentlemen who are going to breakfast,
and come into my office for your
orders for the day. I don't know
what Monsieur Rabourdin wants
with Gabriel; he keeps him to
do his private errands, I believe.
I've rung three times and can't
get him." [Baudoyer and Bixiou
retire into the private office.]
Chazelle. "Damned
unlucky!"
Paulmier [delighted
to annoy Chazelle]. "Why didn't
you look about when you came
into the
room? You might have seen the
elephant, and the hat too; they
are big enough to be visible."
Chazelle [dismally]. "Disgusting
business! I don't see why we
should be treated like slaves
because the government gives
us four francs and sixty-five
centimes a day."
Fleury [entering]. "Down
with Baudoyer! hurrah for Rabourdin!--that's
the cry in the division."
Chazelle [getting
more and more angry]. "Baudoyer
can turn off me if he likes,
I sha'n't
care. In Paris there are a thousand
ways of earning five francs a
day; why, I could earn that at
the Palais de Justice, copying
briefs for the lawyers."
Paulmier [still
prodding him]. "It
is very easy to say that; but
a government place is a government
place, and that plucky Colleville,
who works like a galley-slave
outside of this office, and who
could earn, if he lost his appointment,
more than his salary, prefers
to keep his place. Who the devil
is fool enough to give up his
expectations?"
Chazelle [continuing
his philippic]. "You
may not be, but I am! We have
no chances at all. Time was when
nothing was more encouraging
than a civil-service career.
So many men were in the army
that there were not enough for
the government work; the maimed
and the halt and the sick ones,
like Paulmier, and the near-sighted
ones, all had their chance of
a rapid promotion. But now, ever
since the Chamber invented what
they called special training,
and the rules and regulations
for civil-service examiners,
we are worse off than common
soldiers. The poorest places
are at the mercy of a thousand
mischances because we are now
ruled by a thousand sovereigns."
Bixiou [returning]. "Are
you crazy, Chazelle? Where
do you
find a thousand sovereigns?--not
in your pocket, are they?"
Chazelle. "Count
them up. There are four hundred
over there at
the end of the pont de la Concorde
(so called because it leads to
the scene of perpetual discord
between the Right and Left of
the Chamber); three hundred more
at the end of the rue de Tournon.
The court, which ought to count
for the other three hundred,
has seven hundred parts less
power to get a man appointed
to a place under government than
the Emperor Napoleon had."
Fleury. "All
of which signifies that in
a country where there
are three powers you may bet
a thousand to one that a government
clerk who has no influence but
his own merits to advance him
will remain in obscurity."
Bixiou [looking
alternately at Chazelle and
Fleury]. "My
sons, you have yet to learn that
in these days the worst state
of life is the state of belonging
to the State."
Fleury. "Because
it has a constitutional government."
Colleville. "Gentlemen,
gentlemen! no politics!"
Bixiou. "Fleury is right. Serving
the State in these days is no
longer serving a prince who knew
how to punish and reward. The
State now is EVERYBODY. Everybody
of course cares for nobody. Serve
everybody, and you serve nobody.
Nobody is interested in nobody;
the government clerk lives between
two negations. The world has
neither pity nor respect, neither
heart nor head; everybody forgets
to-morrow the service of yesterday.
Now each one of you may be, like
Monsieur Baudoyer, an administrative
genius, a Chateaubriand of reports,
a Bossouet of circulars, the
Canalis of memorials, the gifted
son of diplomatic despatches;
but I tell you there is a fatal
law which interferes with all
administrative genius,--I mean
the law of promotion by average.
This average is based on the
statistics of promotion and the
statistics of mortality combined.
It is very certain that on entering
whichever section of the Civil
Service you please at the age
of eighteen, you can't get eighteen
hundred francs a year till you
reach the age of thirty. Now
there's no free and independent
career in which, in the course
of twelve years, a young man
who has gone through the grammar-school,
been vaccinated, is exempt from
military service, and possesses
all his faculties (I don't mean
transcendent ones) can't amass
a capital of forty-five thousand
francs in centimes, which represents
a permanent income equal to our
salaries, which are, after all,
precarious. In twelve years a
grocer can earn enough to give
him ten thousand francs a year;
a painter can daub a mile of
canvas and be decorated with
the Legion of honor, or pose
as a neglected genius. A literary
man becomes professor of something
or other, or a journalist at
a hundred francs for a thousand
lines; he writes "feuilletons," or
he gets into Saint-Pelagie for
a brilliant article that offends
the Jesuits,--which of course
is an immense benefit to him
and makes him a politician at
once. Even a lazy man, who does
nothing but make debts, has time
to marry a widow who pays them;
a priest finds time to become
a bishop "in partibus." A sober,
intelligent young fellow, who
begins with a small capital as
a money-changer, soon buys a
share in a broker's business;
and, to go even lower, a petty
clerk becomes a notary, a rag-picker
lays by two or three thousand
francs a year, and the poorest
workmen often become manufacturers;
whereas, in the rotatory movement
of this present civilization,
which mistakes perpetual division
and redivision for progress,
an unhappy civil service clerk,
like Chazelle for instance, is
forced to dine for twenty-two
sous a meal, struggles with his
tailor and bootmaker, gets into
debt, and is an absolute nothing;
worse than that, he becomes an
idiot! Come, gentlemen, now's
the time to make a stand! Let
us all give in our resignations!
Fleury, Chazelle, fling yourselves
into other employments and become
the great men you really are."
Chazelle [calmed
down by Bixiou's allocution]. "No, I thank you" [general
laughter].
Bixiou. "You
are wrong; in your situation
I should try to
get ahead of the general-secretary."
Chazelle [uneasily]. "What
has he to do with me?"
Bixiou. "You'll
find out; do you suppose Baudoyer
will overlook
what happened just now?"
Fleury. "Another
piece of Bixiou's spite! You've
a queer fellow
to deal with in there. Now, Monsieur
Rabourdin,--there's a man for
you! He put work on my table
to-day that you couldn't get
through within this office in
three days; well, he expects
me to have it done by four o'clock
to-day. But he is not always
at my heels to hinder me from
talking to my friends."
Baudoyer [appearing
at the door]. "Gentlemen, you will admit
that if you have the legal right
to find fault with the chamber
and the administration you must
at least do so elsewhere than
in this office." [To Fleury.] "What
are you doing here, monsieur?"
Fleury [insolently]. "I
came to tell these gentlemen
that
there was to be a general turn-out.
Du Bruel is sent for to the ministry,
and Dutocq also. Everybody is
asking who will be appointed."
Baudoyer [retiring]. "It
is not your affair, sir; go
back
to your own office, and do not
disturb mine."
Fleury [in
the doorway]. "It
would be a shameful injustice
if Rabourdin lost the place;
I swear I'd leave the service.
Did you find that anagram, papa
Colleville?"
Colleville. "Yes,
here it is."
Fleury [leaning
over Colleville's desk]. "Capital! famous! This
is just what will happen if the
administration continues to play
the hypocrite." [He makes a sign
to the clerks that Baudoyer is
listening.] "If the government
would frankly state its intentions
without concealments of any kind,
the liberals would know what
they had to deal with. An administration
which sets its best friends against
itself, such men as those of
the 'Debats,' Chateaubriand,
and Royer-Collard, is only to
be pitied!"
Colleville
[after consulting his colleagues]. "Come,
Fleury, you're a good fellow,
but don't
talk politics here; you don't
know what harm you may do us."
Fleury [dryly]. "Well,
adieu, gentlemen; I have my
work to
do by four o'clock."
While this idle talk had been
going on, des Lupeaulx was closeted
in his office with du Bruel,
where, a little later, Dutocq
joined them. Des Lupeaulx had
heard from his valet of La Billardiere's
death, and wishing to please
the two ministers, he wanted
an obituary article to appear
in the evening papers.
"Good morning, my dear du Bruel," said
the semi-minister to the head-
clerk as he entered, and not
inviting him to sit down. "You
have heard the news? La Billardiere
is dead. The ministers were both
present when he received the
last sacraments. The worthy man
strongly recommended Rabourdin,
saying he should die with less
regret if he could know that
his successor were the man who
had so constantly done his work.
Death is a torture which makes
a man confess everything. The
minister agreed the more readily
because his intention and that
of the Council was to reward
Monsieur Rabourdin's numerous
services. In fact, the Council
of State needs his experience.
They say that young La Billardiere
is to leave the division of his
father and go to the Commission
of Seals; that's just the same
as if the King had made him a
present of a hundred thousand
francs,--the place can always
be sold. But I know the news
will delight your division, which
will thus get rid of him. Du
Bruel, we must get ten or a dozen
lines about the worthy late director
into the papers; his Excellency
will glance them over,--he reads
the papers. Do you know the particulars
of old La Billardiere's life?"
Du Bruel made a sign in the
negative.
"No?" continued des Lupeaulx. "Well
then; he was mixed up in the
affairs of La Vendee, and he
was one of the confidants of
the late King. Like Monsieur
le Comte de Fontaine he always
refused to hold communication
with the First Consul. He was
a bit of a 'chouan'; born in
Brittany of a parliamentary family,
and ennobled by Louis XVIII.
How old was he? never mind about
that; just say his loyalty was
untarnished, his religion enlightened,--the
poor old fellow hated churches
and never set foot in one, but
you had better make him out a
'pious vassal.' Bring in, gracefully,
that he sang the song of Simeon
at the accession of Charles X.
The Comte d'Artois thought very
highly of La Billardiere, for
he co-operated in the unfortunate
affair of Quiberon and took the
whole responsibility on himself.
You know about that, don't you?
La Billardiere defended the King
in a printed pamphlet in reply
to an impudent history of the
Revolution written by a journalist;
you can allude to his loyalty
and devotion. But be very careful
what you say; weigh your words,
so that the other newspapers
can't laugh at us; and bring
me the article when you've written
it. Were you at Rabourdin's yesterday?"
"Yes, monseigneur," said du
Bruel, "Ah! beg pardon."
"No harm done," answered
des Lupeaulx, laughing.
"Madame Rabourdin looked delightfully
handsome," added du Bruel. "There
are not two women like her in
Paris. Some are as clever as
she, but there's not one so gracefully
witty. Many women may even be
handsomer, but it would be hard
to find one with such variety
of beauty. Madame Rabourdin is
far superior to Madame Colleville," said
the vaudevillist, remembering
des Lupeaulx's former affair. "Flavie
owes what she is to the men about
her, whereas Madame Rabourdin
is all things in herself. It
is wonderful too what she knows;
you can't tell secrets in Latin
before HER. If I had such a wife,
I know I should succeed in everything."
"You have more mind than an
author ought to have," returned
des Lupeaulx, with a conceited
air. Then he turned round and
perceived Dutocq. "Ah, good-morning,
Dutocq," he said. "I sent for
you to lend me your Charlet--if
you have the whole complete.
Madame la comtesse knows nothing
of Charlet."
Du Bruel retired.
"Why do you come in without
being summoned?" said des Lupeaulx,
harshly, when he and Dutocq were
left alone. "Is the State in
danger that you must come here
at ten o'clock in the morning,
just as I am going to breakfast
with his Excellency?"
"Perhaps it is, monsieur," said
Dutocq, dryly. "If I had had
the honor to see you earlier,
you would probably have not been
so willing to support Monsieur
Rabourdin, after reading his
opinion of you."
Dutocq opened his coat, took
a paper from the left-hand breast-pocket
and laid it on des Lupeaulx's
desk, pointing to a marked passage.
Then he went to the door and
slipped the bolt, fearing interruption.
While he was thus employed, the
secretary-general read the opening
sentence of the article, which
was as follows:
"Monsieur des
Lupeaulx. A government degrades
itself by openly employing
such a man, whose real vocation
is for police diplomacy. He is
fitted to deal with the political
filibusters of other cabinets,
and it would be a pity therefore
to employ him on our internal
detective police. He is above
a common spy, for he is able
to understand a plan; he could
skilfully carry through a dark
piece of work and cover his retreat
safely."
Des Lupeaulx was succinctly
analyzed in five or six such
paragraphs,-- the essence, in
fact, of the biographical portrait
which we gave at the beginning
of this history. As he read the
words the secretary felt that
a man stronger than himself sat
in judgment on him; and he at
once resolved to examine the
memorandum, which evidently reached
far and high, without allowing
Dutocq to know his secret thoughts.
He therefore showed a calm, grave
face when the spy returned to
him. Des Lupeaulx, like lawyers,
magistrates, diplomatists, and
all whose work obliges them to
pry into the human heart, was
past being surprised at anything.
Hardened in treachery and in
all the tricks and wiles of hatred,
he could take a stab in the back
and not let his face tell of
it.
"How did you
get hold of this paper?"
Dutocq related his good luck;
des Lupeaulx's face as he listened
expressed no approbation; and
the spy ended in terror an account
which began triumphantly.
"Dutocq, you have put your
finger between the bark and the
tree," said the secretary, coldly. "If
you don't want to make powerful
enemies I advise you to keep
this paper a profound secret;
it is a work of the utmost importance
and already well known to me."
So saying, des Lupeaulx dismissed
Dutocq by one of those glances
that are more expressive than
words.
"Ha! that scoundrel of a Rabourdin
has put his finger in this!" thought
Dutocq, alarmed on finding himself
anticipated; "he has reached
the ear of the administration,
while I am left out in the cold.
I shouldn't have thought it!"
To all his other motives of
aversion to Rabourdin he now
added the jealousy of one man
to another man of the same calling,--a
most powerful ingredient in hatred.
When des Lupeaulx was left
alone, he dropped into a strange
meditation. What power was it
of which Rabourdin was the instrument?
Should he, des Lupeaulx, use
this singular document to destroy
him, or should he keep it as
a weapon to succeed with the
wife? The mystery that lay behind
this paper was all darkness to
des Lupeaulx, who read with something
akin to terror page after page,
in which the men of his acquaintance
were judged with unerring wisdom.
He admired Rabourdin, though
stabbed to his vitals by what
he said of him. The breakfast-
hour suddenly cut short his meditation.
"His Excellency is waiting
for you to come down," announced
the minister's footman.
The minister always breakfasted
with his wife and children and
des Lupeaulx, without the presence
of servants. The morning meal
affords the only moment of privacy
which public men can snatch from
the current of overwhelming business.
Yet in spite of the precautions
they take to keep this hour for
private intimacies and affections,
a good many great and little
people manage to infringe upon
it. Business itself will, as
at this moment, thrust itself
in the way of their scanty comfort.
"I thought Rabourdin was a
man above all ordinary petty
manoeuvres," began the minister; "and
yet here, not ten minutes after
La Billardiere's death, he sends
me this note by La Briere,--it
is like a stage missive. Look," said
his Excellency, giving des Lupeaulx
a paper which he was twirling
in his fingers.
Too noble in mind to think
for a moment of the shameful
meaning La Billardiere's death
might lend to his letter, Rabourdin
had not withdrawn it from La
Briere's hands after the news
reached him. Des Lupeaulx read
as follows:--
"Monseigneur,--If
twenty-three years of irreproachable
services
may claim a favor, I entreat
your Excellency to grant me an
audience this very day. My honor
is involved in the matter of
which I desire to speak."
"Poor man!" said des Lupeaulx,
in a tone of compassion which
confirmed the minister in his
error. "We are alone; I advise
you to see him now. You have
a meeting of the Council when
the Chamber rises; moreover,
your Excellency has to reply
to-day to the opposition; this
is really the only hour when
you can receive him."
Des Lupeaulx
rose, called the servant, said
a few words, and
returned to his seat. "I have
told them to bring him in at
dessert," he said.
Like all other ministers under
the Restoration, this particular
minister was a man without youth.
The charter granted by Louis
XVIII. had the defect of tying
the hands of the kings by compelling
them to deliver the destinies
of the nation into the control
of the middle- aged men of the
Chamber and the septuagenarians
of the peerage; it robbed them
of the right to lay hands on
a man of statesmanlike talent
wherever they could find him,
no matter how young he was or
how poverty-stricken his condition
might be. Napoleon alone was
able to employ young men as he
chose, without being restrained
by any consideration. After the
overthrow of that mighty will,
vigor deserted power. Now the
period when effeminacy succeeds
to vigor presents a contrast
that is far more dangerous in
France than in other countries.
As a general thing, ministers
who were old before they entered
office have proved second or
third rate, while those who were
taken young have been an honor
to European monarchies and to
the republics whose affairs they
have directed. The world still
rings with the struggle between
Pitt and Napoleon, two men who
conducted the politics of their
respective countries at an age
when Henri de Navarre, Richelieu,
Mazarin, Colbert, Louvois, the
Prince of Orange, the Guises,
Machiavelli, in short, all the
best known of our great men,
coming from the ranks or born
to a throne, began to rule the
State. The Convention--that model
of energy--was made up in a great
measure of young heads; no sovereign
can ever forget that it was able
to put fourteen armies into the
field against Europe. Its policy,
fatal in the eyes of those who
cling to what is called absolute
power, was nevertheless dictated
by strictly monarchical principles,
and it behaved itself like any
of the great kings.
After ten or a dozen years
of parliamentary struggle, having
studied the science of politics
until he was worn down by it,
this particular minister had
come to be enthroned by his party,
who considered him in the light
of their business man. Happily
for him he was now nearer sixty
than fifty years of age; had
he retained even a vestige of
juvenile vigor he would quickly
have quenched it. But, accustomed
to back and fill, retreat and
return to the charge, he was
able to endure being struck at,
turn and turn about, by his own
party, by the opposition, by
the court, by the clergy, because
to all such attacks he opposed
the inert force of a substance
which was equally soft and consistent;
thus he reaped the benefits of
what was really his misfortune.
Harassed by a thousand questions
of government, his mind, like
that of an old lawyer who has
tried every species of case,
no longer possessed the spring
which solitary minds are able
to retain, nor that power of
prompt decision which distinguishes
men who are early accustomed
to action, and young soldiers.
How could it be otherwise? He
had practised sophistries and
quibbled instead of judging;
he had criticised effects and
done nothing for causes; his
head was full of plans such as
a political party lays upon the
shoulders of a leader,--matters
of private interest brought to
an orator supposed to have a
future, a jumble of schemes and
impractical requests. Far from
coming fresh to his work, he
was wearied out with marching
and counter-marching, and when
he finally reached the much desired
height of his present position,
he found himself in a thicket
of thorny bushes with a thousand
conflicting wills to conciliate.
If the statesmen of the Restoration
had been allowed to follow out
their own ideas, their capacity
would doubtless have been criticised;
but though their wills were often
forced, their age saved them
from attempting the resistance
which youth opposes to intrigues,
both high and low,--intrigues
which vanquished Richelieu, and
to which, in a lower sphere,
Rabourdin was to succumb.
After the rough and tumble
of their first struggles in political
life these men, less old than
aged, have to endure the additional
wear and tear of a ministry.
Thus it is that their eyes begin
to weaken just as they need to
have the clear-sightedness of
eagles; their mind is weary when
its youth and fire need to be
redoubled. The minister in whom
Rabourdin sought to confide was
in the habit of listening to
men of undoubted superiority
as they explained ingenious theories
of government, applicable or
inapplicable to the affairs of
France. Such men, by whom the
difficulties of national policy
were never apprehended, were
in the habit of attacking this
minister personally whenever
a parliamentary battle or a contest
with the secret follies of the
court took place,--on the eve
of a struggle with the popular
mind, or on the morrow of a diplomatic
discussion which divided the
Council into three separate parties.
Caught in such a predicament,
a statesman naturally keeps a
yawn ready for the first sentence
designed to show him how the
public service could be better
managed. At such periods not
a dinner took place among bold
schemers or financial and political
lobbyists where the opinions
of the Bourse and the Bank, the
secrets of diplomacy, and the
policy necessitated by the state
of affairs in Europe were not
canvassed and discussed. The
minister has his own private
councillors in des Lupeaulx and
his secretary, who collected
and pondered all opinions and
discussions for the purpose of
analyzing and controlling the
various interests proclaimed
and supported by so many clever
men. In fact, his misfortune
was that of most other ministers
who have passed the prime of
life; he trimmed and shuffled
under all his difficulties,--with
journalism, which at this period
it was thought advisable to repress
in an underhand way rather than
fight openly; with financial
as well as labor questions; with
the clergy as well as with that
other question of the public
lands; with liberalism as with
the Chamber. After manoeuvering
his way to power in the course
of seven years, the minister
believed that he could manage
all questions of administration
in the same way. It is so natural
to think we can maintain a position
by the same methods which served
us to reach it that no one ventured
to blame a system invented by
mediocrity to please minds of
its own calibre. The Restoration,
like the Polish revolution, proved
to nations as to princes the
true value of a Man, and what
will happen if that necessary
man is wanting. The last and
the greatest weakness of the
public men of the Restoration
was their honesty, in a struggle
in which their adversaries employed
the resources of political dishonesty,
lies, and calumnies, and let
loose upon them, by all subversive
means, the clamor of the unintelligent
masses, able only to understand
revolt.
Rabourdin told himself all
these things. But he had made
up his mind to win or lose, like
a man weary of gambling who allows
himself a last stake; ill-luck
had given him as adversary in
the game a sharper like des Lupeaulx.
With all his sagacity, Rabourdin
was better versed in matters
of administration than in parliamentary
optics, and he was far indeed
from imagining how his confidence
would be received; he little
thought that the great work that
filled his mind would seem to
the minister nothing more than
a theory, and that a man who
held the position of a statesman
would confound his reform with
the schemes of political and
self-interested talkers.
As the minister rose from table,
thinking of Francois Keller,
his wife detained him with the
offer of a bunch of grapes, and
at that moment Rabourdin was
announced. Des Lupeaulx had counted
on the minister's preoccupation
and his desire to get away; seeing
him for the moment occupied with
his wife, the general-secretary
went forward to meet Rabourdin;
whom he petrified with his first
words, said in a low tone of
voice:--
"His Excellency and I know
what the subject is that occupies
your mind; you have nothing to
fear"; then, raising his voice,
he added, "neither from Dutocq
nor from any one else."
"Don't feel uneasy, Rabourdin," said
his Excellency, kindly, but making
a movement to get away.
Rabourdin came forward respectfully,
and the minister could not evade
him.
"Will your Excellency permit
me to see you for a moment in
private?" he said, with a mysterious
glance.
The minister looked at the
clock and went towards the window,
whither the poor man followed
him.
"When may I
have the honor of submitting
the matter of which
I spoke to your Excellency? I
desire to fully explain the plan
of administration to which the
paper that was taken belongs--"
"Plan of administration!" exclaimed
the minister, frowning, and hurriedly
interrupting him. "If you have
anything of that kind to communicate
you must wait for the regular
day when we do business together.
I ought to be at the Council
now; and I have an answer to
make to the Chamber on that point
which the opposition raised before
the session ended yesterday.
Your day is Wednesday next; I
could not work yesterday, for
I had other things to attend
to; political matters are apt
to interfere with purely administrative
ones."
"I place my honor with all
confidence in your Excellency's
hands," said Rabourdin gravely, "and
I entreat you to remember that
you have not allowed me time
to give you an immediate explanation
of the stolen paper--"
"Don't be uneasy," said des
Lupeaulx, interposing between
the minister and Rabourdin, whom
he thus interrupted; "in another
week you will probably be appointed--"
The minister smiled as he thought
of des Lupeaulx's enthusiasm
for Madame Rabourdin, and he
glanced knowingly at his wife.
Rabourdin saw the look, and tried
to imagine its meaning; his attention
was diverted for a moment, and
his Excellency took advantage
of the fact to make his escape.
"We will talk of all this,
you and I," said des Lupeaulx,
with whom Rabourdin, much to
his surprise, now found himself
alone. "Don't be angry with Dutocq;
I'll answer for his discretion."
"Madame Rabourdin is charming," said
the minister's wife, wishing
to say the civil thing to the
head of a bureau.
The children all gazed at Rabourdin
with curiosity. The poor man
had come there expecting some
serious, even solemn, result,
and he was like a great fish
caught in the threads of a flimsy
net; he struggled with himself.
"Madame la comtesse is very
good," he said.
"Shall I not have the pleasure
of seeing Madame here some Wednesday?" said
the countess. "Pray bring her;
it will give me pleasure."
"Madame Rabourdin herself receives
on Wednesdays," interrupted des
Lupeaulx, who knew the empty
civility of an invitation to
the official Wednesdays; "but
since you are so kind as to wish
for her, you will soon give one
of your private parties, and--"
The countess rose with some
irritation.
"You are the master of my ceremonies," she
said to des Lupeaulx,-- ambiguous
words, by which she expressed
the annoyance she felt with the
secretary for presuming to interfere
with her private parties, to
which she admitted only a select
few. She left the room without
bowing to Rabourdin, who remained
alone with des Lupeaulx; the
latter was twisting in his fingers
the confidential letter to the
minister which Rabourdin had
intrusted to La Briere. Rabourdin
recognized it.
"You have never really known
me," said des Lupeaulx. "Friday
evening we will come to a full
understanding. Just now I must
go and receive callers; his Excellency
saddles me with that burden when
he has other matters to attend
to. But I repeat, Rabourdin,
don't worry yourself; you have
nothing to fear."
Rabourdin walked slowly through
the corridors, amazed and confounded
by this singular turn of events.
He had expected Dutocq to denounce
him, and found he had not been
mistaken; des Lupeaulx had certainly
seen the document which judged
him so severely, and yet des
Lupeaulx was fawning on his judge!
It was all incomprehensible.
Men of upright minds are often
at a loss to understand complicated
intrigues, and Rabourdin was
lost in a maze of conjecture
without being able to discover
the object of the game which
the secretary was playing.
"Either he
has not read the part about
himself, or he loves
my wife."
Such were the two thoughts
to which his mind arrived as
he crossed the courtyard; for
the glance he had intercepted
the night before between des
Lupeaulx and Celestine came back
to his memory like a flash of
lightning.
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