Money (Oxford World’s Classics)

by Emile Zola

  Then, turning to Saccard:

  ‘Ah, Monsieur, people speak so highly of you!… We can’t go anywhere without someone telling us some lovely and very touching stories about you. It’s not only the Princess d’Orviedo but all my friends, who are full of enthusiasm for your work. Many of them envy me for being one of your first shareholders, and if people listened to the advice of those friends, they’d sell their very beds to buy your shares!’

  Pleasantly joking, she added:

  ‘I find them a little mad, yes indeed, a little bit mad! It’s no doubt because I’m no longer young enough… My daughter is one of your admirers. She believes in your mission, and campaigns for it in all the salons we visit.’

  Saccard, quite charmed, looked at Alice, and at that moment she was so animated, so vibrant with her faith that she seemed to him really pretty, in spite of her sallow complexion and her rather skinny, already withered neck. So he felt himself to be great and good, thinking he had made the happiness of this poor creature, who became pretty at the mere hope of a husband. Then in a low and faraway voice, she said:

  ‘Oh, it’s so splendid, that far-off conquest… Yes, it’s a new era, with the cross shining forth…’

  It was the mystery, it was what remained unspoken, and her voice sank lower still, fading into a gasp of rapture. Saccard, in any case, was silencing her with a friendly gesture, for he would not allow anyone to speak in his presence of the grand affair, the supreme and hidden goal. His gesture indicated that one must always aim towards it, but never speak of it. In the sanctuary, the censers were swinging in the hands of the few initiates.

  After a moment of tender silence, the Countess at last stood up.

  ‘Ah well, Monsieur, I am convinced, I shall write to my lawyer to say I accept the offer for Les Aublets… May God forgive me if I do wrong!’

  Saccard, also standing now, declared in a voice of deeply felt gravity:

  ‘It is God himself who inspires you, Madame, be assured of it.’

  As he was accompanying the ladies to the passageway, to avoid the still-overcrowded antechamber, he met Dejoie, who was hovering about with an embarrassed air.

  ‘What is it? Not another person, I trust?’

  ‘No, no, Monsieur… If I dare ask Monsieur’s advice… It’s for myself…’

  And he manoeuvred so skilfully that Saccard found himself back in his study, while the other remained very deferentially in the doorway.

  ‘For you?… Ah yes, of course you too are a shareholder… Well, my lad, take the new shares which will be reserved for you, even if you have to sell the shirt off your back to buy them. That’s the advice I give all my friends.’

  ‘Oh, Monsieur, it’s all too much for me, my daughter and I don’t aim that high… At the start, I bought eight shares with the four thousand francs of savings my poor wife left us; and I still have just those eight, because—d’you see?—when it came to the other share-issues, in which the capital was doubled twice over, we didn’t have the money to take the shares we were allocated… No, no, that’s not the point, one must not be greedy!—I just wanted to ask Monsieur, without offence, if Monsieur thinks I should sell.’

  ‘What! That you should sell?’

  Then Dejoie, with all sorts of anxious and respectful circumlocutions, explained his situation. At the rate of thirteen hundred francs, his eight shares represented a sum of ten thousand four hundred francs. He was therefore well able to give Nathalie the six thousand francs needed for the cardboard manufacturer. But after seeing the continual rise of the shares, he had acquired an appetite for money, then came the idea, vague at first, then overwhelming, of having his own share in it, to get a little income of six hundred francs, which would allow him to retire. But a capital of twelve thousand francs, added to his daughter’s six thousand francs, made the enormous sum of eighteen thousand francs, and he despaired of ever reaching that figure, for he had worked out that to do that, he would have to wait for the rate to reach two thousand three hundred francs.

  ‘You understand, Monsieur, that if it’s not going to rise any more, I’d rather sell, because Nathalie’s happiness must come first, mustn’t it?… On the other hand, if it all goes up again, what a heartbreak it will be if I’ve sold…’

  Saccard exploded.

  ‘Ah! You really are stupid, my lad!… Do you think we’re going to stop at thirteen hundred? Am I selling?… You’ll have your eighteen thousand francs, I can assure you. And now get going! And get rid of all those people in there; tell them I’ve gone out.’

  When he was alone again, Saccard was able to call back the two department heads and finish his work in peace.

  It was decided that an Extraordinary General Meeting should be held in August to vote the new increase in capital. Hamelin, who was to chair it, landed in Marseilles in the last days of July. For two months, his sister, in each of her letters, had been urging him more and more insistently, to come back. In the midst of the bank’s emphatic success, more apparent day by day, she had the sense of a lurking danger, an irrational fear she dared not even mention; and she wanted her brother to be there, to take account of things for himself, for she was beginning to doubt her own judgement, fearing she would have no strength against Saccard, would let herself be blinded to such a point as to let down the brother she loved so much. Shouldn’t she have confessed her affair to him, the affair that he was very far from suspecting, in his innocence as a man of faith and science, moving through the world like a sleepwalker? This idea was extremely painful for her, and she let herself drift into cowardly compromises; she was arguing with duty, which very clearly commanded her to tell all, now that she knew Saccard and his past, so that her brother might be on his guard. In her hours of strength, she promised herself she would get things sorted out once and for all, and not abandon the unfettered management of such large sums of money to criminal hands in whose grip so many millions had already cracked and crumbled away, bringing ruin to so many people. It was the only possible sound and honest course worthy of her. Then her clarity of mind faded and she weakened and temporized, now finding that the only grounds for complaint were irregularities common—so Saccard affirmed—to all banking houses. Perhaps he was right to tell her with a laugh that the monster that frightened her was success, that resounding Parisian success that strikes like a thunderbolt, and which left her trembling as if from the shock and anguish of a catastrophe. She didn’t know where she stood any more, there were times when, full of that infinite affection she still felt for Saccard, she admired him even more, even though she could no longer esteem him. Never would she have believed her heart could be so complicated, she felt herself to be very much a woman, and feared she might lose the power to act. That was why she was so pleased at her brother’s return.

  It was on the very day of Hamelin’s return that Saccard decided to see him in the workroom, where they were certain not to be disturbed, to show him the resolutions that the board would be asked to approve before putting them to the vote in the General Meeting. But by tacit agreement, the brother and sister anticipated the agreed time of the meeting, and alone together, were able to talk freely. Hamelin had come back very cheery, delighted at having successfully arranged the complex railway deal in that Eastern country, so sleepy and idle, so strewn with political, administrative, and financial obstacles. At last success was complete, the first work was about to begin and construction-sites would be opening on all sides as soon as the company had been properly set up in Paris. He showed such enthusiasm, such confidence in the future, that this became a new reason for keeping silent, since it hurt her so much to spoil his delighted joy. However, she did express some doubts, and warned him against the infatuation that was transporting the public. He stopped her and looked her straight in the eye; did she know of anything shady? Why didn’t she speak of it? And she didn’t speak, unable to articulate anything definite.

  Saccard, who had not yet seen Hamelin, threw his arms around him when they met, and kissed him with th
e exuberance of a man from the Midi. Then, when Hamelin had confirmed the news given in his recent letters, and given him details of the complete success of his long journey, Saccard became effusive.

  ‘Ah, my dear chap, this time we shall be the masters of Paris, the kings of the market!… I too have worked to some purpose; I’ve had an amazing idea. You shall see.’

  Without more ado, he outlined his plan to take the capital from a hundred to a hundred and fifty million, by issuing a hundred thousand new shares, and in this way to release all the shares, the old as well as the new. He was launching the new shares at eight hundred and fifty francs, thus creating, with the premium of three hundred and fifty francs, a reserve which, with the addition of the monies already put aside at each distribution, would reach the figure of twenty-five million; and he needed now only to find an equal sum to obtain the fifty million necessary for the release of the two hundred thousand old shares. And that was where his amazing idea came in; it was to draw up a balance-sheet of the approximate profits of the current year, profits which, in his view, would reach a minimum of thirty-six million. From this he could easily take the twenty-five million he needed. And the Universal would therefore, after 31 December 1867, have a definitive capital of one hundred and fifty million in the form of three hundred thousand fully paid-up shares. The shares would be unified and made payable to bearer to facilitate their free circulation on the market. It was the ultimate triumph, the stroke of genius.

  ‘Yes, genius!’ he cried. ‘That is not putting it too strongly.’

  Somewhat dazed by all this, Hamelin was flicking through the pages of the plan, examining the figures.

  ‘I don’t much care for this hastily drawn up balance-sheet,’ he said at last. ‘These are real dividends you’re going to be giving your shareholders, since you’re releasing their shares; and it’s essential to be certain that all these sums have really been gained: otherwise we could justifiably be accused of issuing fictitious dividends.’

  Saccard got angry.

  ‘What! But I am lower than the estimates! Just see whether I haven’t been reasonable; won’t the Steamship Company and Carmel and the Turkish Bank bring in greater profits than those I’ve listed? You bring me news of victory from those countries, where everything is going well and prospering, and then you quibble about the certainty of our success!’

  Hamelin smiled, and calmed him with a gesture. Yes, yes, he had faith in it. But he liked things to take their regular course.

  ‘Indeed,’ said Madame Caroline gently, ‘what’s the point of hurrying? Couldn’t we wait until April for this increase in capital?… Or else, since you need twenty-five million more, why not issue the shares at a thousand or twelve hundred francs straight away, which would avoid the need to anticipate the profits of the next balance-sheet?’

  Saccard looked at her, stunned for a moment, astonished that she should have thought of that.

  ‘No doubt, at eleven hundred francs instead of eight hundred and fifty, the hundred thousand shares would produce exactly the twenty-five millions.’

  ‘Well then,’ she went on, ‘that’s the solution. You need have no fear that the shareholders will complain. They will be just as willing to give eleven hundred as eight hundred and fifty.’

  ‘Oh yes! They’ll give whatever we like, and even fight over who will give most. They’re like madmen, they’d tear down the building just to give us their money.’

  But suddenly he regained his self-possession, with a violent start of protest.

  ‘But what are you going on about? I don’t want to ask them for eleven hundred francs, emphatically not! That would really be too stupid and too simple… Try to understand that in these financial matters, it is vital to excite the imagination. The great idea is to take the money out of people’s pockets before it has even got there. They at once imagine that they are not giving it but receiving it as a gift. And then, don’t you see the colossal effect this anticipatory balance-sheet will have when it appears in all the newspapers, with its profit of thirty-six million announced in advance with a great fanfare?… The Bourse will catch fire, we’ll be quoted at over two thousand, and we’re going up and up, and there’ll be no stopping us!’

  He was standing up, gesticulating, stretching himself up on his little legs, so that he actually seemed to grow taller, gesturing into the stars, like the poet of money, undaunted by bankruptcies and ruins. This was his instinctive system, the urge and impulse of his whole being, to whip his business affairs ferociously onward, driving them along feverishly at a double-quick gallop. He had pushed success to the limit, kindling people’s greed with this lightning march of the Universal: three share-issues in three years, the bank’s capital leaping from twenty-five to fifty, a hundred, then a hundred-and-fifty million, in a progression that seemed to promise miraculous prosperity. And the dividends too proceeded in leaps and bounds: nothing in the first year, then ten francs, then thirty-three francs, then the thirty-six million bringing the release of all the shares! And all this in the deceitful overheating of the whole machine, in the midst of fictitious subscriptions of shares, of shares kept by the company to create the impression they had been fully paid-up, all under the impact of speculation on the Bourse, where every increase in capital created an exaggerated rise in the share-price.

  Hamelin, still absorbed in his scrutiny of Saccard’s plan, had not supported his sister’s remarks. He shook his head and returned to matters of detail.

  ‘No matter! Your anticipatory balance-sheet* is simply not right, when the profits indicated have not yet been made… I’m not talking now about our ventures, although they too can be afflicted by catastrophic events, like any other human endeavour… But I see here the Sabatani account, three thousand or so shares, representing more than two million. You have placed these on the credit side, but they ought to be on the debit side, since Sabatani is only our man of straw. Just between ourselves, we can say this, can’t we?… And wait a moment! I can also see the names of several of our employees, and even some of our directors, all men of straw. Oh, I see what you’re doing, you don’t need to tell me. It makes me tremble, to see that we’re keeping such a large number of our own shares. Not only do we get no cash, but we paralyse ourselves, and we’ll end up one day simply destroying ourselves.’

  Madame Caroline looked on approvingly, for he was at last giving voice to all her own fears, uncovering the cause of that vague unease of hers which grew ever greater with the growing success.

  ‘Ah, gambling!’ she murmured.

  ‘But we are not gambling!’ cried Saccard. ‘It’s quite allowable for us to support our share-prices, and we’d really be stupid if we didn’t see to it that Gundermann and others don’t devalue our stock by going for a fall against us. They haven’t quite dared to do so yet, but it can happen. That’s why I’m glad to have a certain number of our shares in hand, and I warn you, if it becomes necessary I’m even ready to buy some, yes! I’ll buy some myself, sooner than let them drop by a centime!’

  He had spoken these last words with extraordinary vehemence, as if he were vowing to die rather than suffer defeat. Then, with an effort, he calmed down and began to laugh with a rather forced air of affability.

  ‘Oh look, it’s starting up again, all that distrust! I thought we’d had that out once and for all, on these matters. You had agreed to place yourselves in my hands, so let me get on with it! All I want is to make your fortune, a great, great fortune!’

  He paused and lowered his voice, as if himself alarmed at the enormity of his desire.

  ‘Shall I tell you what I want? I want to see the rate at three thousand francs.’

  He waved his hand as if pointing it out in mid-air, that triumphant rate of three thousand francs, seeing it rising up like a star, and setting the horizon of the Bourse on fire.

  ‘That’s mad,’ said Madame Caroline.

  ‘Once the rate goes past two thousand francs,’ Hamelin declared, ‘every new rise will be a danger; and as fo
r me, I warn you I shall sell my shares to avoid having anything to do with such madness.’

  But Saccard just began humming a tune. People always say they’ll sell, but they don’t do it. He would make them rich in spite of themselves. He was smiling once more, in a very tender and slightly mocking way.

  ‘Put your trust in me, it seems to me I’ve not done too badly for you… Sadowa alone brought you a million.’

  It was true, the Hamelins had forgotten that; they had accepted that million, fished out of the murky waters of the Bourse. They remained silent for a moment, turning pale, with that disturbance of the heart felt by people still honest, but who are no longer certain they have done what they ought to have done. Had they themselves become tainted with the leprosy of speculation? Were they too growing corrupt in this feverish atmosphere of money, in which their concerns forced them to live?

  ‘No doubt,’ the engineer finally murmured, ‘but if I had been there…’

  Saccard did not let him finish.

  ‘Oh come on! No need for remorse: it’s just money won back from those dirty Jews!’

  At this, all three of them laughed. And Madame Caroline, who had sat down, made a gesture of tolerance and resignation. Could one simply allow oneself to be eaten and not eat others? It was just life. One would need excessively sublime virtues, or the temptation-free solitude of the cloister.

  ‘Come, come,’ Saccard continued gaily, ‘don’t seem to be spitting on money: first of all, that’s stupid, and anyway it’s only the powerless who despise power… It would be illogical to kill yourselves with work to make others rich, without taking out your own legitimate share. Otherwise you might just as well go to bed and sleep!’

  He was in control now, and would not let them utter another word.

  ‘You know you will soon be pocketing a pretty sum!… Wait!’

  And with the exuberance of a schoolboy, he rushed over to Madame Caroline’s table, and picked up a pencil and a sheet of paper, on which he began to scribble figures.