II
PYROT
All Penguinia heard with horror of Pyrot's crime; at the same time there was
a sort of satisfaction that this embezzlement combined with treachery and even
bordering on sacrilege, had been committed by a Jew. In order to understand this
feeling it is necessary to be acquainted with the state of public opinion
regarding the Jews both great and small. As we have had occasion to say in this
history, the universally detested and all powerful financial caste was composed
of Christians and of Jews. The Jews who formed part of it and on whom the people
poured all their hatred were the upper-class Jews. They possessed immense riches
and, it was said, held more than a fifth part of the total property of
Penguinia. Outside this formidable caste there was a multitude of Jews of a
mediocre condition, who were not more loved than the others and who were feared
much less. In every ordered State, wealth is a sacred thing: in democracies it
is the only sacred thing. Now the Penguin State was democratic. Three or four
financial companies exercised a more extensive, and above all, more effective
and continuous power, than that of the Ministers of the Republic. The latter
were puppets whom the companies ruled in secret, whom they compelled by
intimidation or corruption to favour themselves at the expense of the State, and
whom they ruined by calumnies in the press if they remained honest. In spite of
the secrecy of the Exchequer, enough appeared to make the country indignant, but
the middle-class Penguins had, from the greatest to the least of them, been
brought up to hold money in great reverence, and as they all had property,
either much or little, they were strongly impressed with the solidarity of
capital and understood that a small fortune is not safe unless a big one is
protected. For these reasons they conceived a religious respect for the Jews'
millions, and self-interest being stronger with them than aversion, they were as
much afraid as they were of death to touch a single hair of one of the rich Jews
whom they detested. Towards the poorer Jews they felt less ceremonious and when
they saw any of them down they trampled on them. That is why the entire nation
learnt with thorough satisfaction that the traitor was a Jew. They could take
vengeance on all Israel in his person without any fear of compromising the
public credit.
That Pyrot had stolen the eighty thousand trusses of hay nobody hesitated for
a moment to believe. No one doubted because the general ignorance in which
everybody was concerning the affair did not allow of doubt, for doubt is a thing
that demands motives. People do not doubt without reasons in the same way that
people believe without reasons. The thing was not doubted because it was
repeated everywhere and, with the public, to repeat is to prove. It was not
doubted because people wished to believe Pyrot guilty and one believes what one
wishes to believe. Finally, it was not doubted because the faculty of doubt is
rare amongst men; very few minds carry in them its germs and these are not
developed without cultivation. Doubt is singular, exquisite, philosophic,
immoral, transcendent, monstrous, full of malignity, injurious to persons and to
property, contrary to the good order of governments, and to the prosperity of
empires, fatal to humanity, destructive of the gods, held in horror by heaven
and earth. The mass of the Penguins were ignorant of doubt: it believed in
Pyrot's guilt and this conviction immediately became one of its chief national
beliefs and an essential truth in its patriotic creed.
Pyrot was tried secretly and condemned.
General Panther immediately went to the Minister of War to tell him the
result.
"Luckily," said he, "the judges were certain, for they had no proofs."
"Proofs," muttered Greatauk, "Proofs, what do they prove? There is only one
certain, irrefragable proof—the confession of the guilty person. Has Pyrot
confessed?"
"No, General."
"He will confess, he ought to. Panther, we must induce him; tell him it is to
his interest. Promise him that, if he confesses, he will obtain favours, a
reduction of his sentence, full pardon; promise him that if he confesses his
innocence will be admitted, that he will be decorated. Appeal to his good
feelings. Let him confess from patriotism, for the flag, for the sake of order,
from respect for the hierarchy, at the special command of the Minister of War
militarily. . . . But tell me, Panther, has he not confessed already? There are
tacit confessions; silence is a confession."
"But, General, he is not silent; he keeps on squealing like a pig that he is
innocent."
"Panther, the confessions of a guilty man sometimes result from the vehemence
of his denials. To deny desperately is to confess. Pyrot has confessed; we must
have witnesses of his confessions, justice requires them."
There was in Western Penguinia a seaport called La Cirque, formed of three
small bays and formerly greatly frequented by ships, but now solitary and
deserted. Gloomy lagoons stretched along its low coasts exhaling a pestilent
odour, while fever hovered over its sleepy waters. Here, on the borders of the
sea, there was built a high square tower, like the old Campanile at Venice, from
the side of which, close to the summit hung an open cage which was fastened by a
chain to a transverse beam. In the times of the Draconides the Inquisitors of
Alca used to put heretical clergy into this cage. It had been empty for three
hundred years, but now Pirot was imprisoned in it under the guard of sixty
warders, who lived in the tower and did not lose sight of him night or day,
spying on him for confessions that they might afterwards report to the Minister
of War. For Greatauk, careful and prudent, desired confessions and still further
confessions. Greatauk, who was looked upon as a fool, was in reality a man of
great ability and full of rare foresight.
In the mean time Pyrot, burnt by the sun, eaten by mosquitoes, soaked in the
rain, hail and snow, frozen by the cold, tossed about terribly by the wind,
beset by the sinister croaking of the ravens that perched upon his cage, kept
writing down his innocence on pieces torn off his shirt with a tooth-pick dipped
in blood. These rags were lost in the sea or fell into the hands of the gaolers.
But Pyrot's protests moved nobody because his confessions had been published.
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