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Napoleon The Little, a fiction by Victor Hugo |
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Book 7. The Absolution: Second Phase: The Oath - Chapter 4. Curiosities Of The Business |
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_ BOOK VII. THE ABSOLUTION: SECOND PHASE: THE OATH IV. CURIOSITIES OF THE BUSINESS All morality is denied by such an oath, the cup of shame drained to the dregs, all decency outraged. There is no reason why one should not see unheard-of things, and one sees them. In some towns, Evreux for example, the judges who have taken the oath sit in judgment on the judges who have refused it;[1] dishonour seated on the bench places honour at the bar; the sold conscience "reproves" the upright conscience; the courtesan lashes the virgin. [1] The President of the Tribunal of Commerce at Evreux "M. Verney, late President of the Tribunal of Commerce at "M. Verney is accused of inciting to hatred and treason The judges of first instance discharged M. Verney, and "The Court,-- "Whereas the prosecution has no other object than the "Whereas that offence would result, according to the "'But it would be too serious a matter to barter any longer "Whereas, however blamable _the conduct of Verney has been in "Whereas there is no ground, therefore, for applying to him "For these reasons, "Confirms the judgment without costs."
At this moment M. Bonaparte's face is red, not from shame, but from the blow. There is one other variety of the oath. In the fortresses, in the prisons, in the hulks, in the jails of Africa, there are thousands of prisoners. Who are those prisoners? We have said,--republicans, patriots, soldiers of the law, innocent men, martyrs. Their sufferings have already been proclaimed by generous voices, and one has a glimpse of the truth. In our special volume on the 2nd of December, it shall be our task to tear asunder the veil. Do you wish to know what is taking place?--Sometimes, when endurance is at an end and strength exhausted, bending beneath the weight of misery, without shoes, without bread, without clothing, without a shirt, consumed by fever, devoured by vermin, poor artisans torn from their workshops, poor husbandmen forcibly taken from the plough, weeping for a wife, a mother, children, a family widowed or orphaned, also without bread and perhaps without shelter, overdone, ill, dying, despairing,--some of these wretched beings succumb, and consent to "ask for pardon!" Then a letter is presented for their signature, all written and addressed: "To Monseigneur le Prince-President." We give publicity to this letter, as Sieur Quentin Bauchart avows it. "I, the undersigned, declare upon my honour, that I accept _most thankfully_ the pardon offered me by Prince Louis-Napoleon, and I engage never to become a member of any secret society, to respect the law, and be _faithful_ to the Government that the country has chosen by the votes of the 20th and 21st of December, 1851." Let not the meaning of this grave performance be misunderstood. This is not clemency granted, it is clemency implored. This formula: "Ask us for your pardon," means: "Grant us our pardon." The murderer, leaning over his victim and with his knife raised, cries: "I have waylaid you, seized you, hurled you to the earth, despoiled and robbed you, passed my knife through your body, and now you are under my feet, your blood is oozing from twenty wounds; _say you repent_, and I will not finish you." This _repentance_ exacted by a criminal from an innocent man, is nothing else than the outward form which his inward remorse assumes. He fancies that he is thus safeguarded against his own criminality. Whatever expedient he may adopt to deaden his feelings, although he may be for ever ringing in his own ears the seven million five hundred thousand little bells of his plebiscite, the man of the _coup d'etat_ reflects at times; he catches vague glimpses of a tomorrow, and struggles against the inevitable future. He must have legal purgation, discharge, release from custody, quittance. He exacts it from the vanquished, and at need puts them to the torture, to obtain it. Louis Bonaparte knows that there exists, in the conscience of every prisoner, of every exile, of every man proscribed, a tribunal, and that that tribunal is beginning his prosecution; he trembles, the executioner feels a secret dread of his victim; and, under pretext of a pardon accorded by him to that victim, he forces his judges to sign his acquittal. Thus he hopes to deceive France, which, too, is a living conscience and a watchful tribunal; and that when the hour for passing sentence shall strike, seeing that he has been absolved by his victims, she will pardon him. He deceives himself. Let him cut a hole in the wall on another side, he will not escape through that one. _ |