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'He loved power for power's sake . . . He was without question the greatest of the Rougons.' His Excellency Eug�ne Rougon (1876) is the sixth novel in Zola's twenty-volume Rougon-Macquart cycle. A political novel set in the corridors of power and in the upper echelons of French Second Empire society, including the Imperial court, it focuses on the fluctuating fortunes of the authoritarian Eug�ne Rougon, the "vice-Emperor." But it is more than just a chronicle. It plunges the reader into the essential dynamics of the political: the rivalries, the scheming, the jockeying for position, the ups and downs, the play of interests, the lobbying and gossip, the patronage and string-pulling, the bribery and blackmail, and, especially, the manipulation of language for political purposes. The novel's themes--especially its treatment of political discourse--have remarkable contemporary resonance. His Excellency Eug�ne Rougon is about politics everywhere.… (more)
User reviews
I wasn't looking forward to reading this book, since I have absolutely no knowledge of this era in French history. However, I found the book to be very readable and compelling despite my lack of background knowledge. The politicians are egomaniacs grasping for power, maneuvering and calaculating their every move. This is definitely a novel of character, rather than event, and I highly recommend
Astonishingly, for once, Zola manages to put together a plot without any doomed under-age sexual relationships in it: the main axis of erotic tension this time is between Eugène and the beautiful Clorinde, a femme fatale clawing her way up into Second Empire society from nowhere. Since they are both far more turned on by power than by conventional sexual allure, and neither of them wants to concede an inch to the other, their relationship is far from straightforward, but Zola wouldn't be Zola without a magnificently symbolic sex-scene, so at one point in the story they are allowed to get hands-on with a horsewhip in the riding-stables. Zola would definitely have enjoyed the possibilities of cinema.
A narrative trick that Zola re-uses from La fortune des Rougons is to tell us a lot of the story through a group of minor characters, here Eugène's hangers-on, the little people who spread propaganda on his behalf in exchange for the prospect of favours when he gets into office, in a less well regulated version of the 18th century clientage system. And of course it is usually the greed and ingratitude of these people that push him into over-reaching and get him into trouble so that he has to start clawing his way back again.
The main point of the book, though, is to show us the corrupt and hypocritical workings of government under Napoleon III: We open with the puppet Assembly of 1856, in an atmosphere of the deepest possible tedium and pointlessness, voting through a huge budget allocation for the baptismal ceremonies for the Emperor's infant son; there is more high-level royal tedium in a hunting party at Compiègne (Zola turns out to be surprisingly good at conveying boredom entertainingly); We move forward to the Orsini assassination plot of 1858, which gives Eugène another chance to come back into power, this time as the minister charged with implementing repressive anti-terrorism measures; There's a glorious set-piece cabinet meeting at which Eugène argues convincingly that only a policy of hardline repression and a climate of fear can sustain an absolutist empire in 19th century Europe - possibly Eugène is the only person in the room who misses the obvious conclusion that this is an argument against absolutism, not one in favour of repression - and then digs himself in deeper by condemning a "subversive" popular education book which - again, Zola doesn't tell us in so many words, but we can see it dawning on everyone around the table and the Emperor trying to keep a straight face - is a transparent rip-off of the Emperor's famous 1844 socialist pamphlet, Extinction du paupérisme; And we close with another, far less tedious but equally pointless, session of the Assembly, in which the Bonapartist delegates get to shout insults at the tiny Opposition group who are attempting to point out the hollowness of the 1861 reforms. And who is the government spokesman? None other than our old friend E. Rougon...
It would be interesting to know how much of the novel is based on the actual politics of France during the reign of Louis Napoleon. It is in part a tale of political power and influence.
More than that however it is the story of the relationship between His Excellency (Eugene Rougon) and a young woman Clorinda and the power they attempt to wield over each other. There are two racy scenes in the novel which must have scandalised the readership when first published in 1876. They surprised me for that reason, although a 21st century reader would find them sexually tame.
I didn't find any of the characters sympathetic, unlike in the first of the Rougon-Macquart series. I am sure they were well-drawn - none of them managed to engage me so that I believed in them.
Written 6 years after the fall of the French Second Empire, it deciphers how such a populist assembly votes as one body on the most boring or absurd proposals of
I found it interesting from a historical perspective--and totally relevant to the Rougon-Maquart series--but generally it was a tad dry.
Zola satirizes the political mechinations of
It is satirical, but it also feels soooo real, half a world and well over a century away.
Zola's Rougon-Macquart cycle follows several branches of a family over the 20 years of France's Second Empire, from 1851 to the early 1870s, and is one of the true delights of naturalist French literature. His Excellency is perhaps
Eugene Rougon, mover and shaker in the court of Napoleon III, experiences a political rollercoaster over the course of several years, battered against the tides of public opinion, private malice, and personal gain. The engaging character of Clorinde is a highlight, and Zola's use of symbolism remains sublime, from a charity auction where men are bidding literally for toothpicks (more for social recognition than compassion for charity) to dogs, foaming at the mouth as they tear apart the corpse of a stag, perfectly juxtaposed with the would-be aristocrats eager to pounce on anyone whose social persona betrays even the slightest weakness.
"I became what I am with the Empire. I made the Empire, and the Empire made me."
What the novel does best is what Zola does best in general: examining how each individual person's fears, foibles and needs contribute to a society in decline, even when no-one can be specifically blamed for the overall problem. The pack mentality alluded to by the canine symbolism reveals the true tragedy of all imperial and fascist regimes: most people would be better off without them, but most people are only able to act for their own gain, or the gain of those in their immediate sphere, and so widespread change is hindered at every turn.
The final pages especially - Eugene Rougon's stinging affirmation of the Empire - are a masterclass in political writing, and remind us (if we need it, at this point) how close 1858 is to 2018.