Chapter XXI: Conclusion: The Influence and Survival of Zola's Works

The tragic elements in Zola's life--His place in history--Consequences of his action in the Dreyfus case--Survival of his novels--His influence on other writers--Social influence of some of his books--Zola's apostolic fervour--His prophetic instinct--"Germinal," "Travail," "Paris," and the French masses--Zola's unwritten book "Justice"--Result of his denunciations of vice--Immorality in Paris--Drunkenness in France--Why Zola should be remembered.

Such was the life, such also the death, of the greatest fighter that France produced in the latter half of the nineteenth century. The foregoing narrative, whatever may be its imperfections, will at least have given the reader some idea of that strenuous career which from youth onward was one long battle, an incessant expenditure of will, energy, and talent. It was also, like a battle, a resounding career, most of whose phases echoed all around. In the time of Alexandre Dumas _père_ it used to be said, "When Dumas sneezes, all Paris starts"; and the same might have been subsequently said of Zola, some of whose "sneezes," indeed, reverberated far beyond Paris or even France. Looking at his life from another standpoint it will be found akin to a tragedy in several respects,--not the kind of tragedy which suggests thoughts of blood, thunder, and thrilling horrors, but one of hidden suffering and unrealised aspirations. That may be regarded perhaps as a petty, commonplace sort of tragedy, such as is enacted here and there every day, and left unrecorded. In Zola's case we see aspirations, efforts, struggles, disappointments, domestic trouble, misrepresentation, insult, and hatred, ending in death by accident, with just a few years of popularity and wealth thrown in to deepen, by force of contrast, the shadows of the rest. Even if we regard Zola's tragedy as that of a man's fight for the benefit of his fellowmen against those men themselves--and such it largely was--most of its features will be found to be of a familiar kind. One often perceives heroes and heroines, enthusiastic workers, fighters, and thinkers, who think not like the herd, who strive solely for that which they themselves deem to be right. Few achieve their purpose; the majority fail, disappear, die--as often as not--broken-hearted. Yet with a new generation others always arise to renew the combat. Now and again one of these enthusiasts secures a modicum of success, attains perhaps a hundredth part of his ambition, effects a hundredth part of the good he has dreamt of, leaves among many suggestions a single useful one behind him. But though the success of each individual worker may be very slight, that which he accomplishes is not lost; joined to what is accomplished by other workers, it enlarges the sum of progress. Each additional grain of wheat means an increase of the harvest, and of those who bring that grain to the store it may be said that even if they have failed in nine tenths of their efforts their failure is only relative.

In Zola's career, as in the careers of most men, there was both failure and success. Near as he still is to us, it is difficult to tell how far his measure of success will be permanent, how far his work and memory will survive him. We believe that by his action in the Dreyfus case he carved for himself an imperishable niche in the history of his country. Assuredly no historian, whatever his school, whatever his opinions, will be able to omit Zola's name from any record of the Third French Republic, for, as M. Anatole France said at his graveside, the consequences of Zola's action in the Affair have been immense. Far-reaching changes in the internal policy of France have proceeded from his deed, which led to a disclosure of the real sentiments of those Clericalists and Militarists who were closing in upon the Republic to destroy it. For a time the issue seemed doubtful; but the policy of Republican defence was inaugurated by M. Waldeck-Rousseau and has proceeded and expanded under his successor, M. Combes. To Zola and his letter "J'Accuse," and to the letter's various consequences, many of the events which have occurred in France since 1898 may be easily traced, even by those who know nothing of the novelist's political friendships, of his private intercourse with statesmen who during the Dreyfus turmoil lacked either the opportunity or the energy to intervene, and who, while privately assuring Zola of their sympathy, their conviction even that he was right, repeated to him: "Unfortunately I am not in office and I am therefore powerless. Besides, though I see the danger which you point out, it is very difficult to deal with. One must act with extreme prudence, for the patriotism of the electorate is aroused, and the Republic might be wrecked by precipitate action." Subsequently, after the death of Félix Faure, who was too deeply committed to the military party to take any honest, impartial action, some of the men who had held such language as one has indicated came to the front again, and then, as they gradually took confidence, things slowly changed. When the secret history of the Dreyfus affair from the political standpoint comes to be written, there will doubtless be more than one curious disclosure in which Zola will figure.

We take it, then, that he is assured of a niche in French history. The question of the ultimate survival of his novels is more difficult to determine. He himself declared on one occasion, in a public speech, that it was great honour for a literary man if he were only for one moment the spokesman of his generation and were even fated to oblivion afterward. Of course he, like other writers, aspired to some future fame. At any rate, even as he will figure in national history in connection with the Affair, so must his novels figure--and figure prominently, we think--in literary history. Can one imagine any record of the literary movement in the latter half of the nineteenth century containing no mention of Zola's writings? Independently of the writings themselves account has to be taken of their influence on other authors, not merely in France, but virtually all the world over. Zola always disclaimed any intention of founding a literary school. He protested repeatedly against such a suggestion. He had imitators certainly; all prominent writers have. But apart from those who deliberately set themselves to copy his methods, there were others, more independent, who in one or another respect yielded to his influence. Something of the Naturalism of the Rougon-Macquart series at least found its way into the English novel, in which also there came a reflection of Zola's later manner. Mr. George Moore may deny that he sprang from Zola, and may claim direct descent, as Zola did, from Flaubert and others. But in any case the principles on which Mr. Moore has often worked have been the same as those which Zola adopted. Nearer to Zola in some respects was the late Mr. George Gissing, who in others suggested Maupassant. The late Mr. Frank Norris, the American novelist, was manifestly influenced by Zola's later works; and it seems at least likely that various books by Mr. Hall Caine and Miss Marie Corelli would never have been written if Zola had not raised certain problems in such volumes as "Lourdes" and "Rome." Of Mr. Thomas Hardy it may be said perhaps, as of Mr. George Moore, that he has at least occasionally worked on lines running parallel to those on which Zola worked for years. It would be possible also to enumerate a large number of instances in which Zola's liberating influence has clearly appeared, even when his actual methods have not been followed. One may claim for him that he contributed largely and powerfully to free the modern novel from many shackles, with a result which is conspicuous on all sides. That nothing but Naturalism should remain in fiction as the result of his theories and efforts, was of course out of the question. Zola himself admitted that he had been a mere sectarian when in a dogmatic moment he had once suggested it. But certainly he helped to sweep away many conventionalities, and encourage an accurate presentment of life. Fiction, or at least that branch of it which claims to portray real life, is no longer the same as it was before he arose, and it seems hardly likely that it will ever revert to its former state.

With respect to the actual survival of his books as current literature, that, we think, will depend almost as much on circumstances as on their merits. They are not light reading. He himself was well aware of it, and, as we know, he said of himself, the Goncourts, and others, that future generations might well find their works difficult to read. Many already find it difficult to read Balzac, though he possessed a gift of humour which was lacking in Zola. On the other hand, Zola's style was generally much superior to Balzac's, though the latter was a good grammarian and could write admirable straightforward French when he pleased, as witness many letters in his "Correspondence." In the case both of Balzac and of Zola some knowledge of French history, politics, manners, and other matters is necessary for a proper understanding of their works. "Les Rougon-Macquart," like "La Comédie Humaine," can only be fully appreciated by those who are familiar with the period it treats of; and though Zola usually confined himself to the elemental passions which are also the eternal ones, it is perhaps doubtful whether works of fiction which tax the reader's knowledge in many ways can hope for immortality. Yet possibly the Rougon-Macquart series has a better chance of survival than is possessed by some of Zola's other books, whose social influence has been greater. Influence of that kind has certainly been exercised by some of the Rougon-Macquart volumes, though not in the same degree as by such great _machines de guerre_ as "Lourdes" and "Rome," which reinforced by "Vérité" have proved factors of weight in the great struggle between clericalism and free thought in France. As engines of warfare for use in that struggle, they may survive for many years; but the struggle ceasing they would probably be soon forgotten, as is usually the case with books whose purpose is too ostensible. That example will explain the meaning of our remark that the survival of many of Zola's works will depend on circumstances. In the final triumph of the principles which his last and unfinished series enunciated, we feel considerable confidence. We believe, as Zola did, that the whole world is tending slowly but surely to better things, that we shall come at last to a more natural and more upright life, that increase of knowledge will bring increase of truth, increase of equity, and that the day will come when science will at last confound all superstitions.

One of the men for whom the novelist in his latest years testified the most respect was M. Berthelot, the eminent scientist, long the friend of Renan. It says much for M. Berthelot that he should have exercised considerable influence on two such men, but it should be remembered that if they differed in many ways they also had their points of contact. Though Zola was no priest, whereas Renan remained one in some essential respects until the end, he had in him an apostolic fervour which many a priest might have envied. Even in the days of the Rougon-Macquart novels, which were so impersonal, that fervour displayed itself freely in all Zola's miscellaneous papers, his literary, theatrical, and art criticisms. And it is somewhat remarkable that with this strong fervour within him he should so long have contrived to check and subdue it directly he turned from an essay to a novel. When he ceased to do so and allowed it to invade his novels, the cry of "a new Zola!" arose among those whose knowledge of his writings was confined to his earlier fiction.

Besides his apostolic fervour, Zola, like Renan, possessed a kind of prophetic instinct, which proceeded from the exercise to which he constantly subjected his brain. Every time when in preparing a new novel he had assembled a number of facts, he proceeded to draw deductions from them, to weigh all probabilities and possibilities; and his mind being thus trained, dealt in the same way with all the current events in which he took interest. During his year's stay in England at the time of the Dreyfus case he repeatedly told the writer that he felt sure so-and-so would happen, and in nine cases out of ten his predictions were accurate. At times when the writer went to him with a preconceived opinion or some forecast taken from a newspaper it was particularly interesting to hear him analyse it, examine it under every aspect, and confirm or refute it in accordance with his view of the probabilities. On such occasions his systematical and logical mind was fully revealed; and one may say that the prescience which he often displayed was far more a matter of knowledge and logic than of inspiration. The latter undoubtedly came to his aid on some notable occasions, but even when he so fervently declared his belief in the innocence of Captain Dreyfus--at a time when all positive proof thereof seemed lacking--he at least had some logical basis for his belief which his expertness in deduction had intensified.[1]

It has been pointed out that several of Zola's later books influenced the community, or at least a large section of it, in connection notably with the struggle between Church and State in France. "Germinal" and "Travail," which circulated widely among the working classes, must also have exercised considerable influence. Of recent years the latter work has frequently furnished subjects for lectures delivered to working-class audiences in the French provinces as well as in Paris; and although, as was remarked in a previous chapter, "Travail" may not be in some respects a very practical work, its pacific tendencies are admirable, and the worker who comes under their influence can but reject the more violent courses which some leaders of advanced opinions have preached. Again, "Paris," which is not held to be one of Zola's greatest books, has met with no little favour among the masses, less because it paints the corruption existing in some spheres of society than because it gives voice to the chief demand of the masses, which is for justice. It does not treat the subject fully, being more concerned with the failure of charity to cope with the necessities of the modern world, but it indicates that justice should take charity's place, and this accords so well with the feeling of the multitude that the favour accorded to the book is but natural.

If Zola had lived another year he would have dealt exhaustively with that subject of social justice,--equity between class and class, man and man. It was to have been treated in the last volume of his "Évangiles." Only two days before his death, on the eve of his return from Médan to Paris, he wrote to his publisher, M. Fasquelle, that on the following Monday morning he should begin to prepare that concluding work. He was unable to do so, for on the morning stated he died; and foul-minded bigots, on hearing of his intention, repeated with a sneer, "He was going to begin 'Justice'--well, justice has been done to him." But whatever vileness may have come from men who ever had the words "We are Christians" on the tip of their tongues or at the point of their pens, all those who are in any degree oppressed may well regret that the hand of death robbed them of a powerful statement of their rights.[2]

It would not appear that the flagellation of vice which one finds in the Rougon-Macquart novels has had any widespread effect in France, though it has undoubtedly done good in individual cases. From the general standpoint Paris shows little sign of improvement in some matters. The number of illegitimate births and the number of divorce cases remain extremely large. It may be said, however, that these point less to absolute immorality than to new conceptions of marriage and discontent with existing laws. With respect to the illegitimate births one finds the fathers of the children constantly recognising their paternity in the official declarations of birth, and thereby making themselves responsible for the upbringing of the little ones. The fact is that cohabitation without marriage seems to increase, while there is a falling off both in the number of marriages and in the cases of desertion following seduction.

As regards "L'Assommoir," respecting which the writer has often cordially re-echoed the opinion that it is one of the greatest temperance tracts ever written, one can only say that, like other books of Zola's, it has done good in individual instances, but has failed to stem the general passion for strong drink. The sobriety of the French nation was at one time almost proverbial, but there has been a great change in that matter since the War of 1870. The efforts of various kinds made to check the consumption of alcohol in Paris itself have in a measure proved successful, the average having been reduced during recent years from nine to seven quarts per annum per head of the population. But Normandy tells a terrible tale: At Caen the consumption is fifteen quarts per head, at Rouen it is over sixteen, at Havre it is seventeen, and at Cherbourg, eighteen. It is not surprising, therefore, to find that the depopulation of Normandy is proceeding apace, that the women, who are as much addicted to drink as the men, can seldom bear children, and that even when they become mothers they are unable to suckle their babes. Thus one of the sturdiest races of France is perishing, destroyed by cider and potato spirit. The very children often drink on their way to school, insanity flourishes, and immorality is widespread.[3]

But reforms are not accomplished in a day; and in many instances authors may write in vain, even as the clergy may preach, if legislation does not come to their aid. In some matters even legislation is futile, and then reform can only come gradually, as the result of example and knowledge. To improve the nation you must usually begin by improving the individual. If, then, Zola succeeded in his aims in individual cases--and the writer holds strongly that he did--he effected all that he could reasonably hope for. He did not stamp out vice in France. Neither has the State done so, nor has the Church, nor has any other powerful and wealthy organisation. Zola had only his brain and his pen, and with those weapons he did his best, according to his lights. He was all sincerity; hypocrisy was the thing he most detested. He fought the good fight. After setting forth the evil that was, he preached the cleanly and the fruitful life, brotherliness, equity, rectitude, and truthfulness. He desired the suppression of all noxious agents, and it was because he regarded the Roman Church as such that he assailed it so fiercely. Moreover, he did not share the delusion which imagines a heaven beyond the skies; he wished to set a heaven in this our planet. That was his ideal. He did not believe in resignation. He placed his faith in work and effort. He loved his Mother Earth, he pictured her beauties. He loved his fellowmen; in his harshest moments he sought their good only. The one error of his life showed how human he was. If he were ambitious it was that he might advocate the principles in which he believed, with more and more authority. In a dim and dolorous hour,

"when God himself seemed dumb
And all his arching skies were in eclipse,"

this abused and insulted novelist turned from his work and smote for truth and justice. Others shall decide whether he was a man of genius; suffice it for us that, all his life, he was a man of bravery. He feared none. If there was tragedy in his career, he knew how to bear it. He felt, he prophesied, the day would come when justice would be done to him. That day is hastening; and in whatever estimation his writings may be held hereafter, whether some survive, whether all sink into oblivion, his memory will assuredly abide for many generations, for the world does not willingly forget those who teach it courage,--the first, the foremost quality that life demands of man.

[1] As the result of constant exercise, his mind often worked with great rapidity in these matters, the various aspects of a case and its possibilities coming to him almost in a flash.

[2] Zola left behind him the libretto of a _drame lyrique_, "L'Enfant Roi," which M. Bruneau has since set to music, and which is to be performed at the Opéra Comique in Paris.

[3] In the autumn of 1902 the writer was a guest at one of the monthly dinners of the French Society of Anthropology. Several members had lately returned from Normandy where they had been making exhaustive inquiries into the subject referred to above. The consensus of opinion was that the drink curse had caused greater ravages in Normandy than in any other part of Europe.