Complete Works of Emile Zola (80 page)

M. de Cazalis had been following political events during the last few months with much indifference. He had learned on the previous evening of the overthrow of Louis Philippe, without even paying attention to the news. Formerly, when he was deputy in the opposition ranks, and sought to shake this throne which the people had just upset, he would have applauded at the event, free afterwards to discover the most rapid way of muzzling the rabble, which was the name he generally gave to the working classes, but at the present moment his only anxiety consisted in discovering a means by which he could retain possession of his niece’s fortune so as to be able to devour it with impunity.

When he heard Mathéus say he felt inclined to address him in the second person, he nevertheless made a movement of disgust.

“No joking,” he said drily. “Come, what news have you?”

Mathéus maintained his insolent attitude.

“Eh! Eh!” he answered, with a sneer, “how sharply you speak to your brothers; for you are aware that we are all brothers! it’s written on the flags. Oh! what a fine thing the Republic is!”

“Come to the point. What do you know? Where have you been?”

“I know that we shall perhaps be throwing up barricades one of these days, and I come from the Workers’ Club, of which I am one of the most popular members. It is matter for regret, sir, that your opinions debar you from listening to me. I delivered a speech this morning against the Legitimists which was approved by everyone present. But for the matter of that, I can give you proof of my eloquence.”

And Mathéus rising, stood upright, one hand on his heart and the other extended in front of him like a man about to speak.

M. de Cazalis understood that his worthy associate had some good news to tell him, and that he was making him pay for that news by amusing himself at his expense. He belonged to this man, and he saw he would be compelled to accept his sneers until it pleased him to say all. By cowardice and to flatter this rascal who played with him as with a prey, he lowered himself to the point of laughing at his clownish grimaces hoping by so doing to make him speak out sooner.

“You certainly must make a capital speaker,” he said to him, with a smile.

Mathéus had kept in the same position, trying to recall the sentences of his speech. Then, he let himself fall into the armchair, crossed his legs, threw himself back and continued, still sneering:

“I can’t remember it. It was very fine. I said the Legitimists were rascals. I even think I mentioned your name and suggested hanging you at the first opportunity. They applauded. I must, you understand, take care of my popularity.”

He laughed, displaying his wolfish teeth.

M. de Cazalis, who was becoming exasperated at the scoundrel’s familiarity, walked up and down the room making the greatest efforts not to burst out in anger. The other felt delicious delight at his rage, remained silent for a moment, and when he saw it would be imprudent to make fun any longer, he continued in a bantering tone:

“By the way, I forgot to tell you that M. Philippe Cayol is my colleague at the Workers’ Club.”

M. de Cazalis came to a standstill.

“At last!” he murmured.

“Yes,” continued Mathéus slowly, “M. Philippe Cayol is a very warm Republican and I pride myself on being his disciple. I humbly confess to you that his speeches are of a much more fervent, democratic character than mine. That young man will certainly save the country if it ever stands in need of being saved.”

“Ah! that simpleton has flung himself into the Liberal movement?”

“Body and soul. He is one of the leaders of the red party. The working-men worship him because he shows no pride with them and because he has the simplicity to tell them in good faith that the people are King and that the poor are going to take the place of the nobility and wealthy.”

M. de Cazalis was beaming.

“He is compromising himself, we have him in our grip!” he exclaimed.

Mathéus feigned to be scandalized.

“What, he is compromising himself!” he answered. “Say he is a hero, a glorious child of the Republic! In ten years, the people, conquerors of kings, will erect altars to him. I experienced such enthusiasm at his speeches, that I suddenly felt the material of a Republican in me.”

He rose, and with clownish majesty continued:

“Citizens, you see in me a Republican. Look at me, observe how a Republican is made. We are only a few hundred at Marseille, but we are sufficient to bring about the salvation of humanity. As for myself I am full of zeal — “

In his turn he strode up and down the room.

“Here is what I have already accomplished in favour of the Republic,” he continued. “I have taken M. Philippe Cayol as a model, and in order to inspire my mind with his thoughts, I have followed him step by step. We were both members of a secret society; then I arranged to be admitted to the Workers’ Club at the same time as he was. Each time he speaks there, I applaud him, intoxicate him with enthusiasm. That is my own poor way of serving the country. I am sure that M. Philippe Cayol, encouraged by me, will accomplish great things.”

“I understand, I understand,” murmured M. de Cazalis.

Mathéus continued declaiming.

“We will raise barricades, it is I who insist on it, because barricades are necessary to M. Philippe Cayol’s glory. The people have laboured enough. Is it not so? The aristocrats must work in their turn. A few bullets will set everything in order. M. Philippe Cayol will march at the head of his friends, the working-men: he will lead them on to fortune, unless a gendarme takes him by the collar and drags him before the judges at the assizes, who will certainly show the bad taste to sentence him to transportation.”

The ex-deputy was beside himself with delight. The grimaces with which Mathéus accompanied his speech, now amused him. He pressed his hands and repeated effusively:

“Thanks, thanks, I will reward you, you shall be rich.”

For a moment Mathéus continued standing in his triumphant attitude. Then he burst out into a peal of laughter.

“Eh! What think you?” he exclaimed, “the trick’s done?”

He had the manners of a mountebank about him, and was delighted at the scene with which he had accompanied the news he brought. At last master and valet seated themselves and talked in an undertone.

“You understand me,” said the latter. “We have got M. Philippe, who is behaving like a child. Trust in me. I will make him do something extravagant which he’ll pay dearly for.”

“But if you follow him step by step, he must recognise you.”

“Eh! no, he only saw me once, in the evening at Saint Barnabé. Besides, I have purchased a wig of a bright red colour, which gives me a capital revolutionary appearance. Ah! what simpletons these democrats are, my dear master! They talk of justice, duty, equality; they have an air of honesty that irritates me. I bet they’d massacre me, if they were aware I was working for you. You will never recompense me sufficiently largely, for the sacrifice I am making in consenting to pass for one of theirs.”

“And if the Liberal party wins the day?” asked M. de Cazalis, who had been thinking. Mathéus looked at his master stupefied.

“What do you say?” he answered, twitting him. “Then do you fancy they are so fond as all that of the Republic at Marseille? Listen to this. What ever happens the Liberals will be beaten in this good city. Have no fear. If Cayol can be caught in some fray, his business will be settled. Before a fortnight’s over our merchants will have had enough of liberty, and will want to strangle all those who serve it out to them.”

The ex-deputy remembered the manoeuvres that had brought about his election and could not repress a smile. His acolyte was right: where money is all-powerful, Republican ideas do not flourish.

“I have no need,” continued Mathéus, “to expose my entire plan to you. Remain quiet and I feel sure of handing father and son over to you. We will begin the expedition to Saint Barnabé again, but in a more intelligent manner.”

And as his master renewed his thanks he bluntly added:

“But look here, you must not have me collared with the other Republicans to get rid of me? I am compromising myself, and require a guarantee. Write me a letter instructing me to watch over Philippe Cayol. In that way you become my accomplice. I will return you that letter in exchange for a sum of money, which we will arrange between us, in payment for my services.”

M. de Cazalis consented to everything. He could not for the matter of that do otherwise, and he felt he would always have power over Mathéus on account of the money.

The latter before leaving, urged him to remain quiet in his hotel as he wished to act alone.

CHAPTER XII

THE REPUBLIC AT MARSEILLE

THE Republic was at last solemnly proclaimed on the Cannebière, on the dull, wet morning of Tuesday, February 29th. At the very moment when the former authorities were divesting themselves of office, the temporary Commissary that Paris had sent to Marseille, was descending the Rue d’Aix in a post-chaise. Thus, by a singular chance, during the march past of the troops and the National Guard, the representatives of overthrown Royalty and of the young Republic were brought face to face.

That day was a grand and solemn one for Philippe. His fondest hopes were realised. For a moment he had feared that the Monarchy might be followed by a Regency. The length of time that the Prefect and Mayor of Marseille had taken to recognise the Revolution, had made him think that the struggle at Paris had perhaps not been decisive. They were gaining time, they were no doubt hoping for a reaction that was not forthcoming. When he heard the new government publicly proclaimed, it seemed to him that the people had just won a grand victory and he firmly believed that the hour of the great democratic cause had arrived.

But the hopes the young man had formed on hearing those big words, “liberty, equality, fraternity,” pronounced, were not long in being dispelled by facts. He fell down from the heights of his humanitarian dreams to the reality of human passions and interests. This terrible fall exasperated him and drove him to extreme resolutions.

He had had the simplicity, to imagine that the proclamation of the Republic would be followed by a great movement, which would carry all the city along with it into a Liberal channel. He was painfully surprised when he perceived that the superior authorities, urged on, no doubt, by the fatality of circumstances, were obliged to make concessions to the reaction. The Conservatives, the Legitimists, themselves, remained in a measure the masters at Marseille. Creatures of their own occupied official posts and secretly directed public affairs. In a word the city tolerated the new government rather than accepted it.

When the Republicans understood that they were not victorious, they wished at least to despatch representatives to Paris, who would be firmly resolved to defend the people’s interests, and so the ensuing elections absorbed all their power of action. They felt how precious a victory would be to them, and ardently hoped that the deputies would be chosen from their ranks alone.

These elections were to be held on April 23. During the three weeks preceding that date, Philippe took an active part in the work and manoeuvres of the different clubs. The democratic party had suffered a preliminary check on the occasion of the appointment of a Municipal Commission on which men hostile to the Republic had found seats, notwithstanding the desire openly expressed by the Republicans that they should be excluded. And so the clubs, in order not to be beaten a second time, displayed great activity and energy. They drew up preliminary lists, instructed the people in their political catechism and strained every nerve to make their cause triumph.

During these three feverish weeks, Philippe continued to throw dust into his own eyes. He forgot what was the real feeling in the city and would not see the formidable reaction that was surrounding the small group of Liberals. From morn to eve he ran about Marseille, encouraging some, thanking others and endeavouring to obtain the largest number of votes possible. He undertook, moreover, to sound certain people whom the Republicans wished to make their representatives, and who by reason of their modesty, or from some other cause, remained in the background. Among these was M. Martelly.

One morning, Philippe went to his office where he was now very rarely seen, and sent to ask the ship-owner for a short interview. M. Martelly received him it once. He understood that it was not as one of his staff that the young man came to pay him a visit; he did not allude to his frequent absence, but treated him as a friend, guessing the nature of the errand that brought him to his presence.

After one or two commonplace sentences, Philippe entered frankly into his business.

“I have not seen you for some time at the Workers’ Club,” he said. “You are a member, are you not?”

“Yes,” replied the ship-owner. “I go there very rarely, I think that such gatherings do but little to advance the affairs of liberalism.”

Philippe feigned not to hear.

“Your absence is often regretted,” he continued. “Men like you are precious. You were wrong, one of my colleagues said to me yesterday, to have kept in the background on the occasion of the appointment of the Municipal Commission, and now that the elections are drawing near you ought to show yourself and lend all the weight of your honourability to the cause we are defending.”

M. Martelly did not answer. He looked his interlocutor in the face, to compel him to make his proposals clear and precise.

Philippe understood him and conformed with good grace.

“We are quite disposed to push your candidature forward,” he continued. “Why do you not place yourself in the ranks?”

There was a moment’s silence during which the shipowner look grave and sad.

“Why?” he answered slowly, “because I am certain beforehand to fail. Allow me to speak to you as a friend, as a father. You are going to your ruin, my son. The Republic will kill you, and you will kill the Republic. You know what my convictions are, you do not doubt, I hope, that I am ready to spend my blood for the triumph of what is right and true. But, really, we do not find ourselves here in a centre where self-sacrifice can be of use. We are vanquished before having fought. I thought for a moment of repairing to Paris, of offering my services to the government, of assisting it both personally and with my fortune. At Marseille I have my hands tied. So I have decided to remain aside, for I will not mix in all the dirty business I foresee ahead.”