CHAPTER XV.
‘It’s a scandal.’
‘There must be a reply. The Académie cannot be silent under the attack.’
‘What are you thinking of? On the contrary, the dignity of the Académie demands——’
‘Gentlemen, gentlemen, the real feeling of the Académie is——’
In their private assembly room, in front of the great chimney-piece and the full-length portrait of Cardinal Richelieu, the ‘deities’ were engaged in a discussion preliminary to the meeting. The cold smoke-stained light of a Parisian winter’s day, falling through the great lantern overhead, gave effect to the chill solemnity of the marble busts ranged in row along the walls; and the huge fire in the chimney, nearly as red as the Cardinal’s robe, was not enough to warm the little council-chamber or court-house, furnished with green leather seats, long horse-shoe table in front of the desk, and chain-bedecked usher, keeping the entrance near the place of Picheral, the Secretary.
Generally the best part of the meeting is the quarter of an hour’s grace allowed to late-comers. The Academicians gather in groups with their backs to the fire and their coat tails turned up, chatting familiarly in undertones. But on this afternoon the conversation was general and had risen to the utmost violence of public debate, each new comer joining in from the far end of the room, while he signed the attendance list. Some even before entering, while they were still depositing their great coats, comforters, and overshoes in the empty room of the Académie des Sciences, opened the door to join in the cries of ‘Shame!’ and ‘Scandalous!’
The cause of all the commotion was this. There had appeared in a morning paper a reprint of a highly disrespectful report made to the Académie of Florence upon Astier-Réhu’s ‘Galileo’ and the manifestly apocryphal and absurd (sic) historical documents which were published with it. The report had been sent with the greatest privacy to the President of the Académie Française, and for some days there had been considerable excitement at the Institute, where Astier-Réhu’s decision was eagerly awaited. He had said nothing but, ‘I know, I know; I am taking the necessary steps.’ And now suddenly here was this report which they believed to be known only to themselves, hurled at them like a bomb-shell from the outer sheet of one of the most widely circulated of the Parisian newspapers, and accompanied by remarks insulting to the Permanent Secretary and to the whole Society.
Furious was the indignant outcry against the impudence of the journalist and the folly of Astier-Réhu, which had brought this upon them. The Académie has not been accustomed to such attacks, since it has prudently opened its doors to ‘gentlemen of the Press.’ The fiery Laniboire, familiar with every kind of ‘sport.’ talked of cutting off the gentleman’s ears, and it took two or three colleagues to restrain his ardour.
‘Come, Laniboire; we wear the sword, but we do not draw it Why, it’s your own epigram, confound you, though adopted by the Institute.’