"you must go to the minister of the Interior,
and get your minister to speak to him."

Jacquet went to the minister of the Interior, and asked an audience; it
was granted, but the time appointed was two weeks later. Jacquet was a
persistent man. He travelled from bureau to bureau, and finally reached
the private secretary of the minister of the Interior, to whom he had
made the private secretary of his own minister say a word. These high
protectors aiding, he obtained for the morrow a second interview, in
which, being armed with a line from the autocrat of Foreign affairs to
the pacha of the Interior, Jacquet hoped to carry the matter by assault.
He was ready with reasons, and answers to peremptory questions,--in
short, he was armed at all points; but he failed.

"This matter does not concern me," said the minister; "it belongs to the
prefect of police. Besides, there is no law giving a husband any legal
right to the body of his wife, nor to fathers those of their children.
The matter is serious. There are questions of public utility involved
which will have to be examined. The interests of the city of Paris might
suffer. Therefore if the matter depended on me, which it does not, I
could not decide _hic et nunc_; I should require a report."

A _report_ is to the present system of administration what limbo
or hades is to Christianity. Jacquet knew very well the mania for
"reports"; he had not waited until this occasion to groan at that
bureaucratic absurdity. He knew that since the invasion into public
business of the _Report_ (an administrative revolution consummated
in 1804) there was never known a single minister who would take upon
himself to have an opinion or to decide the slightest matter, unless
that opinion or matter had been winnowed, sifted, and plucked to bits
by the paper-spoilers, quill-drivers, and splendid intellects of his
particular bureau. Jacquet--he was one of those who are worthy of
Plutarch as biographer--saw that he had made a mistake in his management
of the affair, and had, in fact, rendered it impossible by trying to
proceed legally. The thing he should have done was to have taken Madame
Jules to one of Desmaret's estates in the country; and there, under
the good-natured authority of some village mayor to have gratified the
sorrowful longing of his friend. Law, constitutional and administrative,
begets nothing; it is a barren monster for peoples, for kings, and for
private interests. But the