Germinal - Emile Zola [143]
But immediately Étienne moved that a committee be appointed. He proposed some names, and others raised their hands in approval. Pluchart was elected chairman, and as his assistants they chose Maheu and Étienne himself. Chairs were moved around, and the committee took up position. They lost the chairman for a moment, but he had only disappeared under the table to stow the wooden chest that he had been hanging on to until then. When he resurfaced, he banged his fist gently on the table to call the meeting to order; and then, in a hoarse voice, he began:
‘Citizens…’
A small side-door opened, and he had to pause. It was Widow Desire, who had gone round by the kitchen and brought back six glasses of beer on a tray.
‘Don’t mind me,’ she whispered. ‘Talking makes a man thirsty.’
Maheu took the tray and Pluchart was able to continue. He said how touched he was to receive such a warm welcome from the workers of Montsou, and he apologized for being late, telling them about his sore throat and how tired he was. Then he gave way to Citizen Rasseneur, who had asked for the floor.
Rasseneur had already taken up position beside the table, next to the beers. He had turned a chair round to use it as a rostrum. He seemed very emotional, and cleared his throat before launching forth in a loud voice:
‘Comrades…’
The reason for his influence over the colliers lay in the ease with which he spoke and the genial way he could go on talking to them for hours on end and never flagged. He didn’t attempt any hand gestures but just plodded smilingly on, drowning them in his words until they were all so dazed that to a man they would shout: ‘Yes, yes, it’s true, you’re right!’ Yet that day, from the moment he opened his mouth, he had sensed an unspoken hostility. And so he proceeded cautiously, confining himself to saying how they must continue the strike, waiting for the applause before he attacked the International. Yes, indeed, honour meant that they could not yield to the Company’s demands; and yet what suffering, what suffering, what terrible times lay ahead if they had to hold out much longer! And without explicitly calling for an end to the strike, he set about weakening their resolve, painting a picture of starving villages and asking where the supporters of the strike were hoping to find the resources with which to continue. Three or four friends tried to show their support, but this only accentuated the cold silence of the remainder and the growing irritation and disapproval with which his speech was being received. Then, despairing of winning them over, he lost his temper and started predicting disaster if they allowed their heads to be turned by strangers who had come to agitate. By now two thirds of the men were on their feet, angrily trying to shut him up if all he was going to do was insult them and treat them like naughty children. But on he went despite the uproar, taking repeated swigs of beer and shouting that no man alive could stop him doing his duty!
Pluchart had stood up. Having no bell, he banged loudly on the table and repeated in a strangled voice:
‘Citizens! Citizens!’
Eventually he managed to restore some order and put the matter to the meeting, which voted to withdraw Rasseneur’s right to speak. Those delegates who had represented the different pits during the talks with M. Hennebeau gave the lead, and the rest of the men, their heads full of all the new ideas and goaded to a frenzy by hunger, followed. The result of the vote was a foregone conclusion.
‘It’s all right for you, you bastard. You’ve got food!’ screamed Levaque, shaking his fist at Rasseneur.
Étienne had leaned over behind Pluchart to calm Maheu, who had gone very red in the face in his fury at the hypocrisy of Rasseneur’s speech.
‘Citizens,’ said Pluchart. ‘Allow me to say something.’
There was complete silence. He spoke. His voice sounded hoarse and strained, but with his busy schedule he was used to it: laryngitis was all part of the programme. Gradually he began to increase