"But then," continued M. Bourjot, "the situation is not the same at all.
Social conditions are entirely changed, the basis of society has been
restored. Everything is different. There were reasons--or pretexts, if
you prefer that--for this hatred of the nobility. The Revolution of '89
was against privileges, which I am not criticising, but which existed.
That is quite different. The fact was people wanted equality. It was
more or less legitimate that they should have it, but at least there was
some reason in it. At present all that is altered; and where are the
privileges? One man is as good as another. Hasn't every man a vote? You
may say, 'What about money?' Well, every one can earn money; all trades
and professions are open to every one."
"Except those that are not," put in Denoisel.
"In short, all men can now arrive at anything and everything. The only
things necessary are hard work, intelligence----"
"And circumstances," put in Denoisel, once more.
"Circumstances must be made, sir, by each man himself. Just look at what
society is. We are all _parvenus_. My father was a cloth merchant--in a
wholesale way, certainly--and yet you see--now this is equality, sir,
the real and the right kind of equality. There is no such thing as caste
now. The upper class springs from the people, and the people rise to the
upper class. I could have found a count for my daughter, if I had wanted
to. But it is just simply a case of evil instincts, evil passions, and
these communist ideas--it is all this which is against wealth. We hear a
lot of rant about poverty and misery. Well, I can tell you this, there
has never been so much done for the people as at present. There is great
progress with regard to comfort and well-being in France. People who
never used to eat meat, now eat it twice a week. These are facts; and I
am sure that on that subject our young social economist, M. Henri,
could tell us----"
"Yes, yes," said Henri, "that has been proved. In twenty-five years the
increase of cattle has been twelve per cent. By dividing the population
of France into twelve millions inhabiting the towns, and twenty-four to
twenty-five millions inhabiting the country districts, it is reckoned
that the former consume about sixty-five kilogrammes a head each year,
and the latter twenty kilogrammes twenty-six centigrammes. I can
guarantee the figures. What is quite sure is that the most conscientious
estimates prove that since 1789 there has been an increase in the
average length of life, and this progress is the surest sign of
prosperity for a nation. Statistics----"
"Ah, statistics, the chief of the inexact sciences!" interrupted
Denoisel, who delighted in muddling M. Bourjot's brain with paradoxes.
"But I grant that," he went on. "I grant that the lives of the people
have been prolonged, and that they eat more meat than they have ever
eaten. Do you, on that account, believe in the immortality of the
present social constitution? There has been a revolution which has
brought about the reign of the middle class--that is to say, the reign
of money; and now you say: 'Everything is finished; there must be no
other; there can be no legitimate revolution now.' That is quite
natural; but, between ourselves, I don't know up to what point the
supremacy of the middle class can be considered as final. As far as you
are concerned, when once political equality is given to all, social
equality is complete: that is perhaps quite just; but the thing is to
convince people of it, whose interest it is _not_ to believe it. One man
is as good as another. Certainly he may be in the eyes of God. Every one
in this century of ours has a right to wear a black coat--provided he
can pay for it. Modern equality--shall I explain briefly what it is? It
is the same equality as our conscription; every man draws his number,
but if you can pay one hundred and twenty pounds, you have the right of
sending another man to be killed instead of you. You spoke of
privileges; there are no such things now, that's true. The Bastille was
destroyed; but it gave birth to others first. Let us take, for instance,
Justice, and I do acknowledge that a man's position, his name, and his
money weigh less and are made less of in courts of justice than anywhere
else. Well, commit a crime, and be, let us say, a peer of France; you
would be allowed poison instead of the scaffold. Take notice that I
think it should be so; I am only mentioning it to show you how
inequalities spring up again, and, indeed, when I see the ground that
they cover now I wonder where the others could have been. Hereditary
rights--something else that the Revolution thought it had buried. All
that was an abuse of the former Government, about which enough has been
said. Well, I should just like to know whether, at present, the son of a
politician does not inherit his father's name and all the privileges
connected with that name, his father's electors, his connection, his
place everywhere, and his chair at the Academy? We are simply overrun
with these sons. We come across them everywhere; they take all the good
berths and, thanks to these reversions, everything is barred for other
people. The fact is that old customs are terrible things for unmaking
laws. You are wealthy, and you say money is sacred. But why? Well, you
say 'We are not a caste.' No, but you are already an aristocracy, and
quite a new aristocracy, the insolence of which has already surpassed
all the impertinences of the oldest aristocracies on the globe. There is
no court now, you say. There never has been one, I should imagine, in
the whole history of the world where people have had to put up with such
contempt as in the private office of certain great bankers. You talk of
evil instincts and evil passions. Well, the power of the wealthy middle
class is not calculated to elevate the mind. When the higher ranks of
society are engaged in digesting and placing out money there are no
longer any ideas, nothing in fact but appetites, in the class below.
Formerly, when by the side of money there was something above it and
beyond it, during a revolution instead of asking bluntly for
money--clumsy rough coins with which to buy their happiness--the people
contented themselves with asking for the change of colours on a flag, or
with having a few words written over a guard-house, or even with
glorious victories that were quite hollow. But in our times--oh, we all
know where the heart of Paris is now. The bank would be besieged instead
of the Hôtel de ville. Ah, the _bourgeoisie_ has made a great mistake!"
"And what is the mistake, pray?" asked M. Bourjot, astounded by
Denoisel's tirade.
"That of not leaving Paradise in heaven--which was certainly its place.
The day when the poor could no longer comfort themselves with the
thought that the next life would make up to them for this, the day when
the people gave up counting on the happiness of the other world--oh, I
can tell you, Voltaire did a lot of harm to the wealthy classes----"
"Ah, you are right there!" exclaimed M. Bourjot, impulsively. "That is
quite evident. All these wretches ought to go to church regularly----"