Chapter XXI: M. Anatole France speaking at Zola's Funeral (8)

But he compelled himself to resume it, for as is well known he regarded work as the panacea for all evils, physical as well as mental. Thus, by the middle of November, he was able to announce that he had taken up his task again with a sufficiency of courage and intellectual health. It was about this time that M. Charpentier published a volume of his short stories, previously contributed to various periodicals.[49] Moreover "Au Bonheur des Dames" was now appearing serially in the "Gil Blas," which paid twenty thousand francs for the right of publication, or two-thirds of the amount which it had given for "Pot-Bouille." "Au Bonheur des Dames" had naturally necessitated considerable preliminary study and investigation in order that a truthful picture might be presented of the trade of a great city, as exemplified by one of those huge drapery establishments,--the Louvre, the Bon Marché, and the Printemps. Some such leviathan, devouring all the small fry around it and teeming with restless life, was depicted in Zola's pages, which introduced the reader to a world of counter-jumpers beneath whose superficial gloss lay much rank brutishness. And the subject also embraced the hard, the often cruel lot of the girls employed in such places, the ambition and commercial daring of the master, and the ways of all the customers, not forgetting the kleptomaniacs. But though the book was full of interest of a particular kind and deserved the attention of all thinking people, it was perhaps scarcely one to fascinate the great majority of readers. Zola finished it at the end of January, 1883, and in March it was published by M. Charpentier.[50] Most of the newspapers dealt with it sharply; and Schérer, the Protestant critic of "Le Temps," still smarting from the attacks which Zola had made upon the French Protestants, their alleged self-righteousness and narrow bigotry, during his "Figaro" campaign, revengefully described the book as "the attempt of an illiterate individual to lower literature to his own level."[51] The general public did not take very kindly to the work. With "Pot-Bouille" there had at least been a moment when a very large sale had seemed probable, but the demand for "Au Bonheur des Dames" was distinctly moderate, and the wiseacres of the bookselling world opined that Zola, after going up like a rocket, might presently come down like a stick. It is true that the sudden and melodramatic death of Gambetta a short time previously (December 31, 1882) had left the French political world in some confusion; and it is known that the bookselling trade invariably suffers when there is any political unrest. Yet the conditions of the time did not sufficiently explain the drop in the demand for Zola's writings.

Goncourt, who met him a short time after the publication of "Au Bonheur des Dames," found him lugubrious. "The big sales are all over," said he, in much the same tone as a Trappist might have ejaculated the customary greeting, "Brother, one must die." Nevertheless, though he had several excellent subjects in his mind,--books which under favourable circumstances might well have compelled a renewal of public attention,--he deliberately postponed them, and turned to a work which he must have known would appeal to only a small audience, that study of suffering, egotism, and sacrifice which he called satirically "La Joie de Vivre," and which he had put aside in 1881.

After all, in his estimation apparently, it mattered little what book he took in hand, for as he remarked to Goncourt at the Comédie Française on the night of the revival of Victor Hugo's "Le Roi s'amuse" (November 23, 1882), novels were always the same thing over and over again; and it would only be possible to take an interest in the writing of them if one could invent a new form. Personally his great desire was an opportunity to produce a play, one really all his own. In a word he was as stage-struck as ever, and it seemed unlikely that he would feel content until he had given the world an acknowledged dramatic masterpiece. That comparative disregard for the work for which one is best fitted, that craving to excel in something else, and to be praised for it, has appeared in many men, in various degrees and ways. There was Thackeray, who always longed to see his drawings commended; there was Ingres, who courted more applause for his proficiency as a violinist than for his gifts as a painter.

At the opening of the Salon of 1883, Zola lunched with Daudet and Goncourt, and Daudet unbosoming himself, as was often his wont, solicited the advice of his friends as to whether he should offer himself as a candidate for the French Academy. Both Zola and Goncourt urged him to do so, and there was no reason why they should have acted otherwise, for he had many chances in his favour. He occupied a high position as a novelist, and though nowadays no thinking critic can place him in the same rank as Zola, he was at that time far more popular, for if, here and there, he had lampooned one or another individual in his books, he had never given anything like the offence which Zola had given in many directions.

It may be said, perhaps, that in 1883 Alphonse Daudet had reached the height of his reputation. In any case his best work was already done. His novel, "Le Nabab," published in 1878, had been followed the next year by "Les Rois en Exil," and in 1880 by "Numa Roumestan," which would seem to mark the apogee of his career, for a decline was already observable in "L'Évangéliste," published in 1882, and although "Sapho," issued two years later, sold prodigiously, it was not really a great book in the opinion of the present writer, who, cast young into the vortex of Paris, knows something of the existence depicted in Daudet's pages, and has always held that picture to be artificial, untrue to nature in many essential respects, and absolutely deficient in depth. Indeed "Sapho" is a mere skimming of the surface; it never probes. But when all is said, Daudet could be an admirable story-teller when he chose, and the very gifts, which on one hand led to some adverse criticism,--his veneer of poetry, his sentimentality, his inclination to moralise,--won him favour far and wide among people of average intellects.

As was suggested earlier in these pages, Daudet brought a feminine talent into competition with the masculine talent of Zola. Each had his champions in the Parisian world of those days, and nothing would have given some folk greater pleasure than a fierce battle for supremacy between the two men who had become the most widely read novelists of their time. But as a matter of fact they were the best of friends. One has only to glance at Zola's collected essays to see how he praised some of Daudet's writings; while on consulting the pages of Goncourt's "Journal" one will find the two rivals constantly together, dining and lunching and making excursions. Daudet frequently went to Médan, where he boated on the Seine, singing gaily while he rowed, for his health was still good, his spirits were still those of the joyous South, all brightness and geniality, which often helped to dispel his friend's hypochondria. That he was worthy of a place in the French Academy goes without saying, and it was only natural that he should have thought of offering himself as a candidate and have solicited his friends' advice. But, as will be remembered, his views on the subject changed entirely; he allowed it to be known that he regarded the Academy as beneath his notice, and then, in a contradictory spirit, went out of his way to lampoon it in a third-rate book, "L'Immortel." As for Zola, in 1883 there could be no question of an Academical seat for him. He was still in the midst of his battle, with his work only half done.

His novel "La Joie de Vivre," begun at Médan, was written chiefly amid the wild, primitive surroundings of the Anse de Benodet, a creek on the rocky coast of Finistère; but the scene of the book was laid on the Norman shore, between St. Aubin and Grandcamp, where Zola had stayed in previous years. In Lazare Chanteau, the "hero" of his story, he depicted much of his own hypochondria, at which he had already glanced in a tale called "La Mort d'Olivier Bécaille." Lazare's fear of death, his petty superstitions, his irresolution, were all based on Zola's personal experience. So gray a work, which only the devotion and self-sacrifice of Pauline, the heroine, occasionally brightens, could not attract the mass of the reading public. It was published first by the "Gil Blas," which again paid twenty thousand francs for the serial rights; but when it appeared as a volume its sales were small.[52] In fact, from the standpoint of circulation, Zola now relapsed into the position he had occupied before "L'Assommoir."

But he had made a fresh effort as a playwright, having prepared a dramatic version of "Pot-Bouille," in conjunction with M. Busnach. This, which was produced at the Ambigu Theatre on December 13, 1883, proved less successful than its forerunners, "L'Assommoir" and "Nana," and Zola, in a grumpish mood, decided to remain at "the mill," that is, write another novel. This time, however, he hesitated awhile as to his subject. Among those he had selected for consideration was the railway world, but he was still at a loss how he might work it into a novel. It would be better to turn to the peasantry, to whom he must certainly devote a book; and so, after telling Goncourt that his next novel would be called "La Terre," and that in order to obtain the requisite local colour he would have to spend at least a month on a farm in La Beauce, he asked his friend if it would be possible to procure him a letter of recommendation from some large landowner to one of his farmers, who might be willing to give a lodging to a lady in poor health and in need of country air. The lady in question--Madame Zola--would naturally be accompanied by her husband, and, added Zola, a double-bedded room with whitewashed walls would be ample accommodation, though it must be arranged that he and his wife should take their meals with the farmer and his family, for otherwise he would learn virtually nothing.[53] He realised, apparently, that folks unbutton themselves (in the figurative sense) more readily at meal-time than at any other.

Goncourt was unable to help his friend in this matter, at all events immediately; so Zola turned to another subject which he mentioned on the same occasion, that of a strike in a mining district, such as was in progress among the pitmen of northern France at that very moment. Forthwith he started for the scene of the trouble. "At Valenciennes since Saturday, among the strikers, who are remarkably calm," he wrote in February, 1884. "A splendid country as a scene for my book." This time his subject fairly carried him away. "He spent," says Mr. Sherard, "the best part of six months in travelling about, note-book in hand, through the various mining districts of the north of France and of Belgium, interviewing miners, exploring mines from pit-mouth to lowest depths, attending political meetings among the miners, studying various types of Socialist lecturers, drinking horrible beer and still more horrible brandy in the forlorn _cabarets_ of the _corons_ [miners' villages], interrogating miners' wives, and wandering about the fields in the neighbourhood of these _corons_ to watch the lads and lassies taking their poor pastimes when the day's drudgery was over."[54]

Some eight or nine years subsequently, Mr. Sherard, on visiting the Borinage, as the coal district round Mons is called, fell in with an old _porion_ or "viewer" who had acted as one of Zola's guides, and who pronounced him to have been the most inquisitive gentleman he had ever met. Never had he known anybody who asked more questions, said he, unless, indeed, it were an investigating magistrate. Mr. Sherard mentions also that "Germinal"--for that was the book which proceeded from Zola's sojourn among the pitmen--was known in every mining village which he visited. There was not a _coron_ where at least one well-thumbed copy of the work could not be found: a proof of the appreciation in which it was held by the toilers on whose behalf it had been written.

The preliminary study which "Germinal" necessitated, the long sojourn among new and strange scenes, the strong interest, the compassion roused by all Zola saw and heard, most certainly proved very beneficial to him, reinvigorating him, checking his hypochondriacal tendency, diverting his mind from self, renewing and enlarging his ideas. Thus he was again in possession of physical and mental strength when he began the actual writing of the book. Like his more recent novels it was published _en feuilleton_ by the "Gil Blas";[55] and an English version, prepared by Mr. Albert Vandam, appeared in a London weekly newspaper, "The People."[56]

While the serial issue was in progress Zola was once again accused of plagiarism. This time he was said to have borrowed the idea of "Germinal" from a story called "Le Grisou" ("Firedamp"), by M. Maurice Talmeyre--a story which likewise dealt with the coal-pits of northern France, and which when published a few years previously had attracted some attention, being full of interest and written with literary ability. But the idea that Zola had stolen his idea of "Germinal" from it was ridiculous. It had been pointed out long since by Alexis that he proposed to add a second volume on the masses to the study he had made of them in "L'Assommoir," intending on the second occasion to deal more particularly with their social and political aspirations. That intention was partially carried into effect in "Germinal," and the idea of laying the scene of his story in the "black country" of northern France was a sudden inspiration which came to Zola when he found it difficult to proceed immediately with his proposed work on some of the French peasantry--an inspiration which was not derived from M. Talmeyre's book at all, but from the circumstance that some thousands of pitmen were on strike at that very time.

Surely no author can claim a monopoly of any subject or any locality. One writer, for instance, may lay a scene in Regent Street; another is equally entitled to do so; and in the result there may well be some resemblance between their descriptions of the thoroughfare. Moreover, in giving an account of any form of life, all writers are confronted by the same essential facts. They may regard them, interpret them, differently, but each must take them into account. Thus if somewhat similar scenes and corresponding facts figure occasionally in "Le Grisou" and "Germinal" it does not follow that the second is stolen from the first. But Zola, unfortunately, was a much-hated man, and the flimsiest peg was good enough for his enemies. As a matter of fact, with respect to "Germinal," he gave nearly six months to personal study of his subject on the spot, and though he derived a few incidents, as he was well entitled to do, from officially recorded instances of the horrors and dangers of the pitman's life,[57] his work well deserved to be regarded not only as an original one but even as a _livre vécu_. When "Germinal" appeared as a volume there was a large demand for it, though its circulation did not approach that of "L'Assommoir" or "Nana." This has surprised several writers on Zola, who hold "Germinal" to be his masterpiece, but it has already been pointed out in these pages that his sales had been declining for some time past, books like "Pot-Bouille" having angered many of his readers. It was hardly to be expected that he would regain all his lost ground at one leap, and under the circumstances the reception given to "Germinal" was distinctly cheering. Moreover, whereas there had been no popular illustrated edition of "Au Bonheur des Dames" or "La Joie de Vivre," one of "Germinal" in parts soon made its appearance, and sold very widely, in such wise that the full extent of the book's circulation cannot be gauged by M. Charpentier's printings.[58]

The next work which Zola took in hand was "L'Œuvre," the most autobiographical of all his novels, and one for which he had no need to collect documents, for his materials were stored away in his memory. A little of his hypochondria had now returned to him, and the writing of "Germinal" having compelled him to give some attention to politics, he did not cease to rail at politicians. At the "Henriette Maréchal" anniversary dinner (May 6, 1885) he made quite a _sortie_ against them, declaring that they were the sworn foes of literary men, in which opinion Edmond de Goncourt cordially agreed. About that time "L'Assommoir" was revived as a play, and at a dinner given at the Maison Dorée to celebrate the event, Zola turned from the politicians to rate some of the young authors of the time, their alacrity of speech, and on the other hand their unwillingness to take the trouble of writing, unless they were positively assured of publication. One of these young men, said Zola, would expound an idea that had come to him, depict in glowing terms all the interest which such or such a book would have, and then conclude coldly: "Ah! if a publisher would only order it of me!" For young men of that stamp there was no question of striving. They would work to order or not at all. Thus literature was becoming a mere commercial pursuit.

On May 22, 1885, France lost her great poet, Victor Hugo. He had been sinking for some time; nevertheless the news that he was really dead quite startled Paris. During his last illness he had declined the ministrations of "any priest of any religion," and the announcement that he would be buried without rites or prayers angered the Church party exceedingly, and led to unseemly scenes in the Chamber of Deputies when it was proposed that the Pantheon should be restored to its former destination as the resting-place of the great men of France, and that Hugo's remains should be laid in it. This proposal having been shelved by the Chamber, the popular indignation became so great that President Grévy virtually took the law into his own hands, and issued a decree in accordance with public opinion. The obsequies became a great anticlerical demonstration. Of course, for years past, many free-thinkers had been buried without the celebration of religious rites, but there had been only a few great secular public funerals, such as that of Félicien David, the composer, in 1876, later that of M. Hérold, Prefect of the Seine, and, later still, that of Gambetta. The _enterrement civil_ of Victor Hugo marked another step in the same direction and it impressed thousands. More, even, than any of its forerunners, it set an example largely followed in later years.

When Zola heard of the death of Hugo he felt deeply stirred. He remembered the days of long ago, the happy days of Provence when he had learnt by heart page after page of the poet's writings. He had then drunk deeply of Hugo's sonorous rhetoric, and he had not ceased to admire his genius. The virtual failure of "Le Roi s'amuse" when it was revived in 1882 had pleased him from the Naturalist standpoint; yet he had not concealed his opinion that many passages of the play deserved applause, and in fact he had applauded them. "Why not, indeed?" he had ejaculated, turning to Edmond de Goncourt who had accompanied him to the Théâtre Français. And whatever criticism Zola had levelled at the productions of Hugo's declining years, whatever reservations he might make respecting even some of the poet's prime, he knew that this man had been a Master, the most powerful that his age had produced in France. So Zola immediately despatched the following telegram to M. George Hugo, the poet's young grandson:

You will learn, perhaps, some day, Monsieur, that even with
respect to Victor Hugo, I claimed the rights of criticism.
And this is why, amid the frightful grief that has befallen
you, I desire to tell you that every heart has broken with
yours.

Victor Hugo was my youth. I remember what I owe him. No
discussion is possible on such a day as this; all hands must
unite, all the writers of France must rise to do honour to a
Master, and affirm the absolute triumph of literary genius.

Pray believe, Monsieur, in my deep and dolorous sympathy,

ÉMILE ZOLA.[59] PARIS, May 22, 1885.

Besides writing his novel "L'Œuvre" that year, Zola helped M. Busnach to adapt "Germinal" for the stage; but when the play was ready in the autumn, the censorship forbade its performance on the ground that it would excite revolutionary passions. Zola's indignation boiled over at this rebuff, and with the approval of Alphonse Daudet and Edmond de Goncourt, whom he consulted, he issued a protest in "Le Figaro," trouncing M. René Goblet, the responsible Minister, a fussy little advocate who played the part of a Radical when it suited his purposes, but who was really a Philistine _dans l'âme_. However, the protest had no effect, nor had an offer to allow all reasonable alterations in the play for the sake of M. Busnach, whose interests were chiefly at stake; and it was only in the spring of 1888, when other ministers were in office, that "Germinal" was at last produced at the Théâtre du Châtelet. It may be convenient to mention here that for some years subsequent to the publication of "Germinal" as a novel there was never a strike in France without some foolish and prejudiced journalists casting the blame on Zola and his book. When in 1887 Décazeville became the scene of some terrible disturbances, Zola was charged in many directions--even in the Chamber of Deputies by some of its reactionary members--with the responsibility of those misfortunes. He disdained to reply to such ridiculous accusations; but it so happened that a few months previously (December 27, 1886) when authorising "Le Petit Rouennais" to publish "Germinal" serially, he had written the following prefatory note, in which he explained the book's real purport, which of course had never been doubtful for sensible minds:

"'Germinal' is a work of compassion, not a revolutionary
work. In writing it my desire was to cry aloud to the happy
ones of this world, to those who are the masters: 'Take heed!
Look underground, observe all those unhappy beings toiling
and suffering there. Perhaps there is still time to avoid a
great catastrophe. But hasten to act justly, for, otherwise,
the peril is there: the earth will open, and the nations will
be swallowed up in one of the most frightful convulsions
known to the world's history.'

"I descended into the hell of Labour, and if I concealed
nothing, not even the degradation of that sphere, the
shameful things engendered by misery and the huddling of
human beings together as if they were mere cattle, it was
because I wished the picture to be complete, with all its
abominations, so as to draw tears from every eye at the
spectacle of such a dolorous and pariah-like existence.
Those things, no doubt, are not for young girls, but family
people should read me. All of you who work, read what I have
written, and when you raise your voices for pity and justice
my task will be accomplished.

"Yes, a cry of pity, an appeal for justice, I ask no more.
Should the soil still crack, should the disasters predicted
convulse the world to-morrow, it will be because my voice
will have remained unheard."

Thus, in "Germinal," Zola gave rein to his humanitarian feelings, and in recognition thereof prudes shrieked indignantly: "That man is at it again! What a beast he must be!" And on their side capitalists, battening on the labour of the poor and alarmed for the safety of their pelf, howled in chorus: "This book ought to be suppressed, it certainly must not be allowed as a play. It means revolution, robbery, rascality of every kind."

But Zola, though he suffered secretly,--all unjust attacks brought him the keenest suffering,--hid it, and passed on.

There was a touch of humanitarianism even in his next book, "L'Œuvre," for it set forth many of the evils of bohemian life, and embraced an appeal for woman in the person of the unhappy Christine, its heroine. Critics may shake their heads, indeed some have done so, and say sapiently: "All this was not art." They may laugh, too, at the idea of reforming the world by novels. But even if, judging Zola by some of his books, one may occasionally feel inclined to set no very lofty estimate on his artistry, surely the trend of his works, the knowledge of their aim, the circumstances under which they were written, must increase one's respect for their author as a man. And, after all, what is the mere artist? As often as not he is penned within a fanatical creed, bound to narrow formulas, blind to everything beyond them, full of prejudice, and even more ridiculous at times than the Philistines at whom he rails.

As "L'Œuvre" dealt chiefly with the art-world of Paris at a certain period of the Second Empire, it revived some of the passions which Zola had kindled by his championship of Manet. By certain painters the book was roundly abused when M. Charpentier published it early in 1886,[60] on the completion of the issue in the "Gil Blas." This time the demand was not great, for by its nature "L'Œuvre" appealed more particularly to a limited class of readers. Perhaps its sales would have been even smaller had not Zola woven into his narrative so much interesting information concerning himself in his earlier years.

No sooner was he delivered of this book than he turned to the novel on the French peasantry which had been in his mind at the beginning of 1884. Already at that time he had given it considerable thought, made notes, studied his subject in books and periodicals; and he now took up the work of preparation in real earnest. At the very outset he had decided to lay the scene in or near the great grain-producing region of La Beauce, in some degree because this would enable him to deal, _en passant_ with certain economic questions, such as the importation of American wheat, but more particularly because both his mother and his grandmother, Madame Aubert, had been Beauceronnes, and in his younger days he had often heard them talk of that part of the country, which presents various features of interest. La Beauce proper is certainly flat and monotonous, but its confines are picturesque, and Dourdan, Auneau, Orgères, and other localities are associated historically with the horrible crimes of the desperadoes known as _chauffeurs_, who roamed the region early in the nineteenth century. A strain of brutishness was long to be observed among some of the inhabitants. Withal, they are essentially French, that is of the borders of the Ile de France, for there is no fixed type of French peasant. Those of Provence, Languedoc, Burgundy, Normandy, Brittany, and other parts, all differ from one another in important characteristics. Thus generalisations on the subject of the French peasantry may occasionally become ridiculous.

Nevertheless, at the period selected for Zola's work, that of the Second Empire, a general resemblance was to be found among them in two respects. In the first place their ignorance was very great. The Imperial Government which did a good deal to ameliorate their lot materially, did as little as possible to enlighten and elevate their minds. They were, so to say, the backbone of the _régime_, and their ignorance was its safeguard. At the elections they were led like sheep to the polling places to vote for the official candidates. All that, however, belongs to the past. Many changes have occurred during the last thirty years, and without entering here into the question of the religious and secular schools, it may be said that under the Third Republic more has been done than at any previous time for the education of the peasantry. Some brutishness persists in various regions, but all who remember how widespread was illiteracy before the War of 1870 know that great improvement has been effected.

To-day, however, even as was formerly the case, there is still one trait common to the French peasantry generally. As in other countries there has been, and is still, a great exodus from the rural districts to the towns; but those who remain at home are distinguished by their earth-hunger, their all-consuming passion for the soil. The historical explanation of this is perhaps as follows: For centuries the peasantry possessed little or nothing, and when the Revolution at last placed the land in their hands absolutely, a craving which had descended from generation to generation was satisfied. They seized the land eagerly, they clung to it fiercely, fearful lest it should be taken from them, as, for instance, when the Bourbons returned, and many of the old _noblesse_ sought the resumption of their estates. And old-time feelings, the covetous cravings of ancestors, the desperate tenacity of the generation of 1815, have descended to the peasants of to-day, and were perhaps even stronger among those of the Second Empire, with whom Zola proposed to deal in his novel "La Terre."

It was in part on the peasant's brutish ignorance, and more particularly on his earth-hunger, that he resolved to base his book. The following extract from one of his letters[61] will show his intentions:

"'La Terre' will treat of the French peasant's passion for
the soil, his long struggle to acquire possession of it, his
crushing labour, his brief joys and his great wretchedness.
He will be studied too in connection with religion and
politics, his present condition being explained by his past
history; even his future will be indicated, that is the part
he may possibly play in a Socialist revolution. All that,
of course, will lie beneath the drama unfolded in the book,
the drama of a father dividing his land among his children
before his death, whence slow and abominable martyrdom will
ensue, a perfect tragedy setting some sixty characters, an
entire village of La Beauce, in motion; without counting a
secondary plot, the _passionnel_ side of the story, a quarrel
between two sisters, separated by the advent of a man, still
and ever in connection with a question of land. To sum up,
I wish to do for the peasant what I did in 'L'Assommoir'
for the Paris workman, that is, recount his history,
manners, passions, and sufferings, such as environment and
circumstances have fatally made them."

In the spring of 1886 Zola started on a tour of investigation. He already had some personal knowledge of the region where he proposed to lay the scene of his story, having gone there in his mother's time, but that was long before he thought of writing "La Terre." Among the places he now visited was Châteaudun, where one finds him early in May, whence he writes a friend an interesting letter which Mr. Sherard prints, and a portion of which one may venture to quote here:

"I have been here [Châteaudun] since yesterday, and have
found the spot I need. It is a little valley, four leagues
hence, in the canton of Cloyes, between Le Perche and La
Beauce, and on the confines of the latter. I shall introduce
a little brook into it, which will flow into the Loir--such
a brook, by the way, exists. I shall there have all I
require--large farms and small, a central spot, thoroughly
French, a typical and very characteristic horizon, gay people
speaking _patois_--in short what I always hoped for.... I
shall return to Cloyes to-morrow and shall go thence to
visit my valley and my bit of Beauce frontier in detail. For
the day after to-morrow I have an appointment with a farmer
living three leagues from here, in La Beauce, and shall visit
his farm in detail.... I remained to-day at Châteaudun to
attend a big cattle-market."[62]

In June Zola returned to Médan, and throughout that year and indeed until August, 1887, one finds him busy with this book from which he turned only for a short time in February and April to attend to the production, first of a dramatic version of "Le Ventre de Paris,"[63] which had at least a _succès de curiosité_, and secondly of a play called "Renée"--based on "La Curée"--which proved a resounding failure and was attended by an acrimonious controversy in the press. In the opinion of the critics, apparently, Racine's "Phædra" sufficed for all time, and the idea of a modern one in the person of "Renée" was monstrous: thus Zola sinned both against the great classic writer and against modern society.[64]

While he was dividing his attention between those plays and his novel "La Terre," France was becoming more and more absorbed in political questions. General Boulanger, who had been Minister of War in the Freycinet administration of 1886 had lost that position, but his popularity remained extreme, fanned as it was by a large party of malcontents of various political schools. Many were actuated solely by patriotic considerations, for there had been trouble with Germany over an Alsatian frontier incident known historically as the Schnæbelé Affair. Some people who believed the general to be sincerely Republican only wished him to relieve them of certain men of the hour, such as President Grévy, for rumours were already abroad respecting the nefarious practices of the latter's son-in-law, M. Wilson. But others were intent on purposes of their own, the overthrow of the Republic and the establishment of a monarchy or a dictatorship, into which enterprise they hoped to inveigle the popular ex-Minister of War. Briefly, at this time a great crisis was gradually approaching.

Nevertheless, though the unrest penetrated to the literary world, the latter did not neglect the subjects which more particularly concerned it, and there was some commotion among men of letters when on August 18 that year (1887) "Le Figaro" published a manifesto directed against Zola's new work, which had been appearing in the "Gil Blas" since May, and the concluding pages of which were at that very moment being written at Médan. This manifesto (which, when one recalls the presumptuous preface to "Les Soirées de Médan," may be regarded as a Roland for an Oliver) was signed by five young writers, Paul Bonnetain, J. H. Rosny, Lucien Descaves, Paul Margueritte, and Gustave Guiches, who, "in the name of their supreme respect for art, protested against a literature devoid of all nobility." The factum was of some length, diffuse, bristling with scientific jargon, and disfigured by a ridiculous attack on the personal appearance of Zola, whose leadership these young men solemnly renounced.

At that time the best known of the five was Paul Bonnetain, a Provençal of Nîmes, and a friend of Alphonse Daudet, who came from the same city. Bonnetain had then published four or five books, the first of which, "Chariot s'amuse," had so out-Zola'd anything written by Zola himself that its author had been prosecuted for it. M. Rosny on his side had at that date written two books, "Nell Horn," a ridiculous story of "English manners," and "Le Bilatéral," a study of Anarchism and Collectivism which showed marked improvement. M. Gustave Guiches was the author of three volumes, none of which had attracted attention, while Lucien Descaves had published four novels, and was gradually emerging from obscurity, though another two years were to elapse before his venturesome book, "Sous-Off,"--for which he was tried and acquitted--made his name at all widely known. Finally, M. Paul Margueritte--destined like M. Rosny to acquire a high position in literature, in conjunction, be it said, with his younger brother, Victor--was as yet only known by an estimable book on his father, the gallant general killed at Sedan, and a couple of works of fiction, "Tous Quatre" and "Une Confession posthume." The eldest of the band, Bonnetain, was in his thirtieth year, the others were six or seven and twenty.

A comical feature of the affair was that of these five indignant writers, who so solemnly disowned "the Master of Médan," only one, Bonnetain, was personally known to him. They had met just twice. With the others Zola had no acquaintance at all. This appears clearly from the statements he made to M. Fernand Xau of the "Gil Blas," who, directly the manifesto appeared and Zola's enemies raised a cry of jubilation at the so-called "great Naturalist schism," hurried to Médan to interview the author of "La Terre." A portion of Zola's declarations to M. Xau may well be given here:

"I do not know what is thought in Paris of this protest which
has brought me some very kind letters from my _confrères_,
but it has stupefied me. I do not know those young men. They
do not belong to my _entourage_, they have never sat at my
table, they are not my friends. If they are disciples of
mine--and remember I do not seek to make disciples--they
are so without my knowledge. Why then do they repudiate me?
The situation is original. It is as if a woman with whom a
man never had any intercourse were to write him: 'I have
had quite enough of you, let us separate!' The man would
certainly reply to that: 'It's all one to me.' Well, the
position is very similar.

"If friends of mine, if Maupassant, Huysmans, and Céard, had
addressed me in such language publicly, I should certainly
have felt somewhat offended. But this declaration can have no
such effect on me. I shall make no answer to it at all. It
would be giving importance to a matter which has none. When
I am fighting a theatrical battle I write an open letter to
Sarcey because Sarcey certainly exercises great authority.
In some literary discussions I have written in a similar way
to Albert Wolff, because he is an old _chroniqueur_ to whom
people listen. But whatever may be my feelings towards the
five gentlemen who have signed the document we are speaking
of, they must excuse me if I don't answer, for I have nothing
to say to them.... One thing I cannot understand is why these
young men should pass themselves off as soldiers of mine
deserting my flag. The only one I know a very, very little
is Bonnetain, whose 'Opium' I have read, and whose talent I
esteem. He once called on me; and when he appeared before the
Tribunal of Correctional Police, after 'Chariot s'amuse,'
he wrote asking me to let him have a letter to be read in
court. I sent him one, but I advised him not to use it, for
the judges, I fancy, hold me in slight esteem. Well, I met
Bonnetain again at Daudet's, at the 'Sapho' dinner, and that
is all!... The comical part of the affair is that people
used to reproach me with what they called 'my tail.' They
were willing to tolerate what I wrote, but they refused to
accept the productions of the young men who claimed to be
my disciples--though I cried from the house roofs that I had
none. 'Cut your tail off!' people repeated. Well, it is cut
off at last. It has taken itself off of its own accord, and
now, perhaps, folk will be satisfied."[65]

While conversing with M. Xau, Zola mentioned that some of his friends believed the manifesto to be an echo of the opinions of certain persons whom he held in high esteem, both personally and from a literary standpoint; but he had reason to know that the persons in question were really grieved by the factum to which they had given neither inspiration nor assent. The allusion was in part to Alphonse Daudet, by reason of his friendship with Bonnetain, but more particularly to Edmond de Goncourt, as the latter's "Journal" explains. Goncourt's house, his _grenier_, as one said in those days, had become the meeting-place of a number of young authors, who looked up to him much as others had looked up to Flaubert. And Goncourt, on reading the manifesto in "Le Figaro," had immediately exclaimed, "_Diable_, why four of them belong to my _grenier_!"[66] It naturally occurred to him that Zola might think the plot had been hatched there, under his auspices, and he felt extremely annoyed. A journalist who called on him suggested an article showing that he had no responsibility in the matter, but Goncourt declined to hide behind others. If anything had to be said he would say it himself. However, he went to dine at Champrosay with Daudet, and after they had decided that the manifesto was very badly written and outrageously insulting, they communicated privately with Zola, who was thus able to tell M. Xau that whatever might be said elsewhere, he knew that "the certain persons whom he held in high esteem" had nothing to do with the affair.

On the other hand, some minor literary men adhered to the protest, and the incident was so sedulously exaggerated by Zola's enemies that one might have imagined the manifesto had come from novelists of high reputation instead of from beginners, who, with the exception of Bonnetain, had not yet half-won their spurs. The affair has been related in some detail here, first because a kind of legend has gathered round it, a legend repeated in many of the memoirs issued after Zola's death, and secondly because it ultimately had a notable result: the nomination of Zola as a knight of the Legion of Honour.

Before recounting how that occurred it must be mentioned that "La Terre" was published in volume form late in 1887.[67] The attacks made upon it ever since the so-called "Manifesto of the Five" then acquired yet greater intensity, which a little later was checked somewhat by the uproar attending the decorations scandal in which President Grévy's son-in-law was implicated, followed by the President's resignation, the election of Carnot, and the increase of the Boulangist propaganda. However, at every pause in that turmoil the denunciation of Zola began afresh.

It was still going on when M. Edmond Lockroy, who had known the novelist in the old days of "Le Rappel," became Minister of Public Instruction. Married to Charles Hugo's widow, guardian of the great poet's grandchildren, artist, author, Garibaldian volunteer, politician, deputy, and minister, M. Lockroy was--and is still--a man of very broad views. He had formed a poor opinion of the "Manifesto of the Five" at the time of its appearance, and he was disgusted by the ensuing attacks, which emanated for the most part from the reactionary press. In these circumstances he resolved on a somewhat bold course, that of offering the red ribbon to the much-abused author, as an official recognition of his literary attainments, and as a kind of solatium for the insults heaped upon him.

At the same time M. Lockroy realised that as Zola, angered by the behaviour of Bardoux in 1878, had then declared he would not accept a decoration, it would be advisable to sound him unofficially in the first instance. The minister ended by selecting as his intermediary a lady who knew the novelist well, and she at once repaired to Médan to ascertain his views.[68] At her first words Zola began to protest, reminding her of the public declaration he had formerly made, and adding that if he now accepted the red ribbon he would surely cover himself with ridicule. But the minister's messenger insisted, pointing out, notably, that prejudiced and ignorant people were on all sides accusing him of deliberate immorality, even obscenity, and that his official nomination to the Legion of Honour might act as a check on his insulters and rehabilitate him in the eyes of the vulgar. At last Zola began to waver, and after consulting his wife, who favoured the proposal, he gave his assent to it. At the same time, mindful of M. Bardoux' shilly-shallying, he insisted that he should have a formal promise from the minister immediately. It was given him, and very soon afterwards, the time having come to draw up the list of those who should be decorated on the occasion of the National Fête that year, 1888, M. Lockroy brought Zola's name before the Council of Ministers. Later, the decree having been signed and gazetted, he personally fixed the red ribbon to Zola's buttonhole in the drawing-room of the lady who had acted as intermediary.

She, it would appear, was not a little astonished some time afterwards when on receiving a visit from the novelist he told her that he had decided to offer himself as a candidate for the French Academy. And he explained the position thus: "I had the choice of two paths, one leading to the recognition of my readers only, the other leading to official recognition also. I never troubled about the latter, but you turned me into that path, and I am not the man to halt half way on any road. As there is an Academy I shall offer myself as a candidate directly a suitable opportunity occurs. And," he added jocularly, "as there is a Senate also I may even offer myself as a candidate for that as well. Why not? Ste.-Beuve was a senator, and perhaps I myself shall be one."

Neither of those aspirations was realised; and, in later years, even, Zola's decoration of the Legion of Honour was almost taken from him. It had come to him, not as some have said as the result of "Le Rêve," which was not published till some months afterwards, but as the result of "La Terre." Elsewhere, however, that same book had very different consequences for another man, for it led to proceedings at law which ruined him, cast him into prison, and hastened his death. How that happened the following chapter will tell.

[37] He had shown it at a very early stage to his friends Huysmans and Céard, and the former has recorded how greatly they were amazed by it. ("Le Matin," September 30, 1902.)

[38] Sherard (_l. c._, 188 _et seq.)_ gives a variety of information on these points taken from Zola's letters to a friend whose name does not appear.

[39] £1,200 = about $6,000.

[40] Sherard, _l. c._, p. 193.

[41] "Pot-Bouille," Paris, Charpentier, 1882, 18mo, 499 pages; some copies on Dutch, India, and Japanese paper; eighty-second thousand in 1893, ninety-fifth thousand in 1903. Illustrated edition: Marpon and Flammarion, 1883, large 8vo, titles, 452 pages. Fifty-seven wood-engravings after Bellanger and Kauffmann. Sold also in parts at 10 centimes. One hundred special copies on Dutch paper with the engravings on India paper.

[42] "Journal des Goncourt," Vol. VI, p. 140.

[43] _Ibid._, p. 162.

[44] "Journal des Goncourt," Vol. VII, p. 11.

[45] "Journal des Goncourt," Vol. VI, p. 186 (March 6, 1882).

[46] A somewhat similar dinner is described in "L'Œuvre."

[47] "Journal des Goncourt," Vol. VI, p. 209.

[48] Sherard, _l. c._, p. 196.

[49] "Le Capitaine Burle," Paris, Charpentier, 18mo; title-pages bear the date 1883, but the book really appeared late in 1882. Besides the story which gave the volume its title, the following figured in it: "Comment on meurt," "Pour une Nuit d'Amour," "Le Fête à Coqueville," "L'Inondation." "Le Capitaine Burle" first appeared in "La Vie Moderne," February, 1881; and the others in "Le Voltaire," 1880. Of the volume twenty-five copies were printed on India, and fifty on Dutch paper. Marpon and Flammarion added "Le Capitaine Burle" to their illustrated edition of "Thérèse Raquin"; and under various titles the other stories figure in their "Collection des Auteurs célèbres."

[50] "Au Bonheur des Dames," Paris, Charpentier, 1883, 18mo, 525 pages. Some copies on Japanese and some on Dutch paper. Fifty-ninth thousand reached in 1893; seventy-fifth thousand in 1903. This would seem to have been the first of Zola's works of which a translation appeared in England. This translation was made by Mr. Frank Turner, subsequently secretary to General Boulanger; it was first issued in a weekly periodical, which the present writer believes to have been "The London Reader," and was afterwards published in book form by Tinsley Brothers. Vizetelly & Co. acquired the copyright and ultimately sold it to E. A. Vizetelly, who transferred it to Hutchinson & Co.

[51] Schérer's "Études sur la Littérature Contemporaine," Vol. VII, p. 240.

[52] "La Joie de Vivre," Paris, Charpentier, 18mo, 451 pages; some early copies dated 1883, others 1884, when (February) it would appear to have been really published. Some copies were on Japan, India, and Dutch paper. Forty-fourth thousand in 1893 on completion of the Rougon-Macquart series; fifty-fourth thousand in 1903.

[53] "Journal des Goncourt," Vol. VI, p. 288 (January 16, 1884).

[54] Sherard, _l. c._, p. 203.

[55] About this time, that is late in 1884, there appeared another volume of Zola's short stories: "Naïs Micoulin," Paris, Charpentier, 18mo, 384 pages; twenty-five copies on India, one hundred on Dutch paper. Besides "Naïs" the volume contained: "Nantas," "La Mort d'Olivier Bécaille," "Madame Neigeon," "Les Coquillages de M. Chabre," and "Jacques Damour." All these tales will also be found in Marpon and Flammarion's popular "Collection des Auteurs célèbres."

[56] Under date November 20, 1884, Zola sold all his rights in "Germinal" for Great Britain to Mr. W T. Madge, manager of "The People." Vizetelly & Co. acquired book rights from the latter and published a fuller translation. Their rights were subsequently purchased by E. A. Vizetelly and sold by him to Chatto and Windus.

[57] For instance, the horrible experiences of Étienne Lantier in the Voreux pit towards the close of the book were based on those of a miner walled up in a Lyons pit in 1854, and on those of a pitman of the Gard, described by M. Parran, an engineer, in the "Bulletin de la Société de l'Industrie Minérale." That narrative suggested the idea of the floating corpse in the inundated mine.

[58] "Germinal," Paris, Charpentier, 1885, 18mo, 581 pages. Eighty-eighth thousand in 1893; one hundred and tenth thousand in 1903. Some copies on Japanese, Dutch, and India papers. Illustrated edition: Paris, Librairie Illustrée, n. d., quarto, titles, five hundred pages; wood-engravings after Férat; one hundred and fifty copies on Dutch paper. This edition like others is now sold by E. Flammarion, successor of Marpon and Flammarion, Rue Racine, Paris.

[59] From the original draught in the possession of M. G. Charpentier.

[60] "L'Œuvre," Paris, Charpentier, 1886, 18mo, 491 pages. Some copies on special papers. Fifty-fifth thousand in 1893; sixty-fourth thousand in 1903. Mr. Albert Vandam prepared an English adaptation of this story which was published serially in England, and afterwards acquired by Vizetelly & Co. It formed the basis of their version of the work.

[61] Zola to Vizetelly & Co., Paris, March 24, 1887.

[62] Sherard, _l.c._, p. 227.

[63] "Le Ventre de Paris," five acts, by É. Zola and W. Busnach, first performed at the Théâtre de Paris, February 25, 1887. It differed considerably from Zola's novel with the same title. Sarcey slated it in "Le Temps" and Zola answered him in "Le Figaro," March 3, 1887.

[64] "Renée," five acts, by É. Zola, first performed at the Vaudeville, April 16, 1887. One may add that in the latter part of 1887 two plays based on tales by Zola were given in Paris: The first was "Jacques Damour," one act, by Léon Hennique, Odéon, September 22, and the second, "Tout pour l'Honneur," adapted from "Le Capitaine Burle," one act, by Henri Céard, Théâtre Libre, December, 1887; performed also at the Théâtre Molière, Brussels, in 1888.

[65] "Gil Blas," August 21, 1887

[66] "Journal des Goncourt," Vol. VII, p. 206.

[67] "La Terre," Paris, Charpentier, 1887, 18mo, 619 pages. Some copies on Japan, Dutch, and India paper. One hundredth thousand in 1893; one hundred and thirty-fifth thousand in 1903. Illustrated edition: Marpon and Flammarion, n. d., large 8vo, 472 pages; wood-engravings after Duez, Rochegrosse, etc.; one hundred and fifty copies on Dutch paper with the engravings on India paper.

[68] The story is told on the authority of Madame Charpentier, wife of the publisher, but it is somewhat doubtful whether the lady in question was herself, though she and her husband knew M. Lockroy as well as Zola. If not, the intermediary may have been a lady related to a minister whose energy made him famous during the siege of Paris. There was such a lady who knew Zola well. English and American readers will doubtless regard the whole affair as being "very French."

IX

THE BRITISH PHARISEES

1884-1893