The Begum's Millions. Jules Verne
as comically aloof and ludicrously stiff as one could possibly imagine. Lord Glandover moved as one piece, as though he were made of wood or cardboard. Even his eyes did not seem to roll beneath their arched sockets, except by intermittent jerks, such as the eyes of a doll or a dummy.
During the initial presentations, the president of the Association of Hygiene had offered Dr. Sarrasin a greeting that was both protective and condescending and which could have been interpreted this way:
“Greetings, Mister Nobody! … You’re the one who labors on these little insignificant machines to earn a meager life? … I must surely have sharp vision to perceive a creature so distant from me in the hierarchy of human beings! … You may remain in the shadow of My Lordship. You have my permission.”
This time, Lord Glandover addressed him with the most gracious of smiles and pushed his courtesy so far as to point out an empty seat on his right. Moreover, all members of the association had risen when he approached.
Rather surprised by these tokens of such flattering attention, and saying to himself that no doubt the blood-cell counter had appeared to his colleagues a more worthy discovery than they had at first supposed, Dr. Sarrasin took the seat that was offered him.
But all his illusions as an inventor vanished when Lord Glandover leaned down toward his ear with such a contortion of cervical vertebrae as might result in a severe torticollis for His Lordship and whispered:
“I hear that you are a man of considerable property? They say that you are worth twenty-one million pounds sterling?”
Lord Glandover seemed very sorry at having treated so lightly the flesh-and-bone equivalent of such a large sum of money. His whole attitude seemed to reflect, “Why didn’t you let us know? Frankly, that was not very nice! To expose people to such misunderstandings!”
Dr. Sarrasin, who did not feel “worth” one penny more than at the preceding sessions, wondered how the news had already been spread when his neighbor on the right, Dr. Ovidius from Berlin, told him with a false and lifeless smile:
“Why you’re right up there with the Rothschilds! The Daily Telegraph carried the news! All my compliments!”
And he showed him a copy of the paper, dated the very same day. One could read in it the following “news item” whose editing plainly revealed the author:
“A Monstrous Inheritance. The famed estate in abeyance of the Begum Gokool has finally discovered its legitimate heir through the capable hands of Messrs. Billows, Green and Sharp, solicitors, 93 Southampton Row, London. The fortunate proprietor of the twenty-one million pounds sterling, deposited at present in the Bank of England, is the French Dr. Sarrasin, whose fine paper given at the Conference in Brighton was reported in our pages three days ago. Through great labor and despite impediments that would merit an entire novel in themselves, Mr. Sharp has managed to establish without any possible doubt that Dr. Sarrasin is the sole living descendant of Jean-Jacques Langévol, baronet, husband by second marriage to the Begum Gokool. This soldier of fortune was, it seems, born in the little French town of Bar-le-Duc. All that remains for him to do before taking possession of the estate are some simple formalities. The request has already been lodged with the Chancellor’s Court. It has been a curious chain of circumstances that have come together to bestow on a French intellectual not only a British title but also the treasures amassed by a long list of Indian rajahs. Lady luck could not have made a more intelligent choice, and we must be thankful that such a large fortune should fall into hands that will know how to put it to good use.”
In a rather singular reaction, Dr. Sarrasin was vexed to see the news publicized. It was not simply because of the many importunities which his experience with human nature led him to foresee, but he felt humbled by the importance people seemed to be attributing to this event. He seemed to have been diminished personally by the enormous size of his capital. He felt deeply that all his work, his personal merit, were being buried in this ocean of gold and silver, even in the eyes of his colleagues. They no longer saw in him the tireless researcher, the superior and subtle intelligence, the ingenious inventor — they saw the demi-billionaire. Had he been a goitrous inhabitant of the Alps, a besotted Hottentot,2 any one of the most degraded specimens of humanity, instead of one of its superior representatives, his value would have been considered to be the same. Lord Glandover had used the word: he was “worth” henceforth twenty-one million pounds sterling, neither more nor less.
This concept sickened him, and the association, watching with a quite scientific curiosity about what made up a demi-billionaire, noted not without surprise that the doctor’s face was veiled in a sort of sadness.
However, it was but a passing weakness. The grandeur of the goal to which he had resolved to dedicate this unexpected fortune suddenly came to the doctor’s mind, and it reassured him. He awaited the end of the lecture which Dr. Stevenson from Glasgow was giving on the Education of young idiots, and requested the floor to make an announcement to the gathering.
Lord Glandover granted it to him immediately, by preference over Dr. Ovidius. He would have granted it to him even if all the intellectuals of Europe had protested as one against this favor! And here are the eloquent words that he addressed to the president and the members:
“Gentlemen,” said Dr. Sarrasin, “I was planning to wait a few more days before informing you of the unusual good fortune that has befallen me, and the happy consequences that this event could have for science. But, the fact having now become public, it would be unseemly for me to not place it immediately in its proper light. Yes, gentlemen, it is true that a considerable sum of several hundred million, at present deposited in the Bank of England, seems to have become my legal property. Do I need to tell you that I do not consider myself, in these circumstances, other than a trustee of science? (Profound reaction.) It is not to me that this capital lawfully belongs, it is to Humanity, it is to Progress! (Various movements. Exclamations. Unanimous applause. The whole association rises, electrified by that declaration.) Please, don’t applaud, gentlemen. I do not know a single man of science, truly worthy of the name, who would not have done in my place what I hope to do. There may be some who think that, as in many human actions, I do this more out of self-pride than devotion to the cause. (No! No!) It matters little! Let’s just consider the results. I make this declaration, then, definitively and without reserve: the half-billion that chance has placed at my disposal, does not belong to me, but to Science! Do you wish to be the governing body who oversees its expenditure? I do not have sufficient confidence in my own wisdom to claim that I should dispose of it as an absolute master. You are my judges, and you are the ones who will decide on how we can best use this treasure!” (Hurrahs. Great excitement. General delirium.)
The association rises to its feet.3 A few members, in their exultation, stand on tables. Professor Turnbull, from Glasgow, seems on the verge of apoplexy. Dr. Cicogna, from Naples, has lost his breath. Lord Glandover alone keeps the worthy and serene calm which is appropriate for his rank. He is perfectly convinced, moreover, that Dr. Sarrasin is joking, and has not the slightest intention of carrying out such an extravagant project.
“If I may, however,” continued the speaker, when he had obtained a bit of silence, “if I may suggest a plan that would be easy to develop and to perfect, I propose the following.”
Here, the assembly, having recovered its composure, listens with rapt attention.
“Gentlemen, among the many causes of sickness, suffering, and death which surround us, there is one in particular to which I believe it quite reasonable to attach a major importance: it is the deplorable hygienic conditions in which most humans are placed. They mass together in cities, in buildings often deprived of air and light, those two indispensable agents of life. Such human agglomerations become veritable centers of infection. Those who do not meet death here find that their health is seriously affected; their productive strength diminishes, and society thus loses great sources of labor which could be applied to the most useful ends. Why, gentlemen, shouldn’t we try to remedy this situation with the most powerful means of persuasion … by example? Why shouldn’t we gather together all the power of our imagination to design the plan of a model city along rigorously scientific principles? …