tendencies was arrant nonsense. Paris had been the young writer's home
for several years now; he knew what to think of the Empire, and was
against, not with, it. However, he placed literature before politics,
particularly as all he saw of the political _cuisine_ of the times
inclined him to regard many professional politicians with contempt. And
his Republicanism was not so intense as to restrict him exclusively
to Republican society. He admired the Goncourts and Flaubert--to whom
the former introduced him in 1869--as literary masters, and associated
with them freely. Again, he saw no reason why he should not contribute
stories to "L'Artiste" and "L'Illustration," even if their editors did
not think politically as he did. With respect to "Le Rappel," though
his contributions were at times political they more frequently dealt
with literary subjects; and the independence of his character was
illustrated by the boldness with which he praised Balzac in a journal
patronised and in some degree financed by Victor Hugo, who held that
Balzac was fated to early and absolute oblivion, because he could not
even write French. The result of Zola's championship of Balzac in "Le
Rappel" was the severance of his connection with that journal. This,
however, did not take place till the last months of the Empire, when
much of the paper's purpose was already accomplished.
In the summer of 1869, after signing his contract with Lacroix for the
first Rougon-Macquart volumes, Zola felt that he might at last venture
to marry, and in July Mademoiselle Mesley, to whom reference has
been made already,[20] became his wife. As he afterwards explained,
apart from the question of love, he held "the married state to be
an indispensable condition for the accomplishment of all good and
substantial work. The theory which pictured woman as a destructive
creature, one who killed an artist, pounded his heart, and fed upon his
brain--was a romantic idea which facts controverted. For his own part,
he needed an affection that would guarantee him tranquillity, a loving
home, where he might shut himself up, so as to devote his life to the
great series of books which he dreamt of. Everything, said he, depended
upon a man's choice, and he believed he had found what he needed,--an
orphan, the daughter of tradespeople, without a penny, but handsome and
intelligent."[21]
At this time, after removing from the corner of the Avenue de Clichy
and the Rue Moncey to 23, Rue Truffaut, Zola had secured a little house
or "pavilion" in the Rue de La Condamine,--likewise at Batignolles,--a
house reached by crossing the courtyards of a larger building divided
into flats and facing the street. By opening an iron gate one gained
admittance to a small garden with a tiny lawn, over which a large
plum-tree cast its shade, while directly in front of the pavilion
was an arbour of Virginia creeper. Three rooms on the ground floor,
and three on the first, "all like little drawers with partitions as
flimsy as paper," such was the accommodation which the house offered,
and the dining-room was so small that when a little later Zola
purchased a piano, the necessary space for it could only be obtained by
transforming a kind of china cupboard into an alcove.[22] The inmates
of this band-box were four in number: Zola, his young wife, his aged
mother, now in very indifferent health, and his dog, a cross between a
sheep-dog and a Newfoundland,--in a word the faithful Mathieu, of whose
last years and death the novelist afterwards wrote so pathetically in
"La Joie de Vivre." A servant-woman, who slept out, attended to the
harder and dirtier housework; Madame Zola the younger took charge of
most of the cooking, and it was amid these conditions, in this little
pavilion behind No. 14, Rue de La Condamine, that the young author,
who had but lately completed his twenty-ninth year, resolutely set to
work upon one of the greatest literary efforts ever made, one which not
only embraced a most painstaking study of a period and its people, but
imported into fiction, for the first time in its history, virtually
every application of the scientific theory of atavism.
Thus Zola gave effect to his old desire to try to reconcile science and
poetry--which he had only recently enunciated once more in an article
in "La Tribune." And in the prosecution of this self-chosen task over
a long term of years, amid many difficulties, the greatest ridicule,
the most impudent misrepresentation, the most savage abuse that every
white-livered critic could think of, he did not once swerve from the
view he expressed in "Le Gaulois" about the time when he was signing
his contract with Lacroix: "If I kept a school of morals I would hasten
to place 'Madame Bovary' or 'Germinie Lacerteux' in my pupils' hands,
convinced as I am that only truth can instruct and fortify generous
souls."[23]
That view remained Zola's till his last hour.
Early in the summer of 1869 he handed the opening chapters of his
first volume, "La Fortune des Rougon," to the acting-editor of "Le
Siècle," with which journal he had negotiated its serial issue. "Le
Siècle" then held in Paris a position similar to that of "The Morning
Advertiser" in London. That is to say, it was largely the organ of the
licensed victuallers, without, however, belonging to them. Even as
in England, there is sometimes said to be a Beer and Bible alliance
between the brewers and the clergy, so "Le Siècle" represented a kind
of Wine and Democracy compact. It was found in every Parisian wine
shop, and during the earlier years of the Empire it had been the only
journal of democratic tendencies which the authorities tolerated.
Léonor Havin, who became an Opposition deputy in the Corps Législatif,
conducted the paper with great ability for several years, but he
was dead when Zola negotiated the publication of his novel, and "Le
Siècle" had fallen into the hands of that journalistic abomination,
an "editorial board." Zola had a friend at court in the person of M.
Castagnary, who many years previously had done for Courbet what Zola,
comparatively recently, had done for Manet. But Castagnary, while
exercising considerable influence, helping to impart a more resolute
Republican tone to the paper, was not all powerful in the board room;
and not only had Zola already made a good many enemies in his own
profession, but a recollection of the opposition which his earlier
novels had encountered from the readers of other newspapers, so
influenced "Le Siècle's" editorial committee that it again and again
postponed the publication of "La Fortune des Rougon."
Thus Zola found himself in an unpleasant position at the very moment
when he hoped to live in a little quietude and comfort. M. Lacroix,
for some months, made the stipulated advances without raising any
difficulty, but when 1870 arrived the position became more and more
uncertain. Zola was reduced to such a state of anxiety that for weeks
at a time he could hardly write, and it was only the encouragement
he received from his brave young wife that gave him enough energy to
persevere.
Thanks to newspaper work, he earned just sufficient money to live on
meagrely from day to day and keep the home together, and at last, the
publication of "La Fortune des Rougon" being still deferred, he turned
from that work, which he had not quite completed, in order to begin
another. This was "La Curée," into which some of his critics have
read a great many things which he never put in it. Politically and
financially, it was simply the story of the Haussmanisation of Paris,
while morally its central intrigue was neither more nor less than an
adaptation of the ancient legend of Phædra to the corrupt times of the
Empire. Of this second book Zola had just written the first chapter, at
the end of May, 1870, when "Le Siècle" suddenly decided to publish his
earlier work. So once again the young author reverted to "La Fortune
des Rougon," correcting the proofs of the commencement and penning the
conclusion.
Things looked brighter now, but after that year of keen anxiety
Madame Zola was in a very ailing state and needed change and rest.
Zola himself felt a longing to get away from Paris for a time, and
so, after making various pecuniary arrangements with M. Lacroix and
"Le Siècle," he started with his wife and mother for Provence. Then,
all at once, came the thunderclap: Napoleon III declared war against
Prussia, France was invaded; her armies were surprised at Wissemburg,
overthrown at Woerth, thrust back from Borny and Gravelotte under Metz,
routed at Beaumont, surrounded and captured at Sedan. The Empire fell,
and a fortnight later the Germans invested Paris. Zola, now in his
thirty-first year, was not called upon to undertake any military duties
like others of that age, for, being the only son of a widow, the law
exempted him from service. It is true, no doubt, that other widows'
sons at that time occasionally joined the colours as volunteers, in
spite of the legal exemption. And on that account, at a subsequent
period, directly after the publication of "La Débâcle," Zola's enemies
made much of the fact that he had not done likewise.
But proper allowance should be made for his circumstances at the time.
The investment of Paris had cut him off from his usual sources of
income, he found himself virtually adrift, at Marseilles, with his sick
wife and his old mother, who had become more or less infirm. They had
little or no money, there was no relative with whom they might seek a
refuge, and if Zola, in a fine spirit of patriotism, had gone to join
the army, the two women would have become dependent on the charity
of the public. At first Zola was at a loss what to do. But meeting
M. Arnaud, who had published his "Mystères de Marseilles" in the
"Messager de Provence," he prevailed on him to run a popular halfpenny
war journal, which was called "La Marseillaise." Zola's friend, Marius
Roux, who was then also in the city, joined him in the venture, and
between them they wrote the whole paper, which at the outset seemed
likely to prove successful, its sales amounting to ten and fifteen
thousand copies; but typographical and other difficulties arose, and
at last, instead of money being earned, it was lost.
In December (1870) Zola's position at Marseilles being once more
little short of desperate, he went to Bordeaux to seek some work
there, that city having lately become the capital of France by the
removal of the National Defence Delegation from Tours. At Bordeaux
he found Glais-Bizoin, under whom he had formerly contributed to "La
Tribune," and Glais-Bizoin, who was now a member of the Government, a
colleague of Gambetta, Crémieux, and Fourichon, made him his secretary.
Short, lean, a septuagenarian, with a glistening cranium and a nose
like a hawk's beak, this Breton proconsul was one of the amusing
personalities of the time. An ardent democrat, he had sat in the
legislative chambers of the July Monarchy, the Second Republic, and
the Second Empire, making himself quite a parliamentary reputation,
not by his own speeches, but by the caustic, galling, and irrelevant
manner in which he interrupted the speeches of others. Under his ægis
Zola became acquainted with the whole _entourage_ of the National
Defence Delegation, from the astute and prim Clément Laurier, who had
negotiated the notorious Morgan Loan, to the dishevelled, bohemian,
and nicotian Georges Cavalié, otherwise Pipe-en-Bois, who, tapping the
British ambassador, Lord Lyons, on the shoulder one morning, while his
excellency was somewhat impatiently waiting for Gambetta, had suggested
familiarly: "I say, old man, don't bother about the governor, let's go
and have a good glass of beer!"[24]
In these circumstances Zola summoned his wife and mother to Bordeaux,
and set himself to write letters and prepare reports for Glais-Bizoin,
pending another appointment; for the old democrat, on introducing him
to Clément Laurier, who disposed of most of the civil patronage, had
said: "I want a prefecture for this young man,--the first one that may
fall vacant." In Glais-Bizoin's estimation, Zola's claim to such a post
was self-evident; for he had belonged to the staff of "La Tribune," and
since the Revolution of September 4 all the writers on that journal had
become members of the Government, ambassadors, or prefects. In Zola's
case the first vacancies which occurred were the prefectures of Bayonne
and Auch, but both were secured by more eager and active candidates,
and all that Laurier could ultimately offer was a sub-prefecture,
that of Castel-Sarrasin, a pleasant little town of seven thousand
inhabitants, on the Garonne, not far from Montauban.
This incident in Zola's career has been turned by some of his
detractors into an exciting romance which it is unnecessary to
recapitulate. The main facts have been given by Alexis, to whose
account a few particulars may be added. The war at that time was
drawing to an end. Gambetta was anxious to prevent any partisans of the
fallen Empire from being returned at the elections for an Assembly,
which were becoming more and more inevitable and imminent. There was
a sub-prefect at Castel-Sarrasin named Camille Delthil. He was a
young poet, the author of a volume of "Poëmes Parisiens," to which he
afterwards added "Les Rustiques" and "Les Lambrusques." He discharged
his duties with the literary grace of a true Parnassian, and a mildness
which arose from the circumstance that he was himself a native of
Castel-Sarrasin. Gambetta deemed him altogether too mild. According to
the Dictator, to ensure the return of a Republican in that constituency
a strong-fisted sub-prefect was needed, a man, too, who could pen
vigorous and stirring proclamations. Now it occurred to Clément Laurier
that Zola had a vigorous style and a stern mien, so why should not
the novelist be set in the place of the poet, the latter being gently
transferred to some other office? But Delthil would not consent to this
arrangement. Having been born at Castel-Sarrasin, he gloried in ruling
it.
According to the legend, he now threw off all his mildness, barricaded
himself in his sub-prefecture, and defied both the Government and Zola,
in such wise that the latter, although duly "gazetted," was unable
to take possession of his post when he repaired to Castel-Sarrasin.
But he never went there. The truth is that he had barely accepted the
appointment when Paris capitulated, and Jules Simon arrived at Bordeaux
to put an end to some of Gambetta's high-handed proceedings. Forthwith,
in presence of the general "muddle" which arose, and with the thought,
also, that now communications with Paris were restored, he might revert
to journalism, and ultimately to literature, Zola called on Laurier and
withdrew his acceptance of the appointment.
It may be idle and unprofitable to speculate concerning "the
might-have-been," yet a few remarks may well be offered respecting
this curious episode in Zola's career. His original acceptance of
Laurier's offer was explained by him to Alexis. Those were wild times,
and every mind was more or less unhinged. "For my part," said Zola,
"I imagined that it was the end of the world, and that there would be
no more literature. I had brought the manuscript of the first chapter
of 'La Curée' with me from Paris, and I occasionally looked at it as
I might have looked at some very old papers which had become mere
souvenirs. Paris seemed to me very far away, lost in the clouds, and,
as I had my wife and mother with me and no certain prospect of money, I
ended by thinking it quite natural and advisable that I should plunge
into politics, for which I had felt so much contempt previously,--a
contempt which speedily returned."[25]
There was some little exaggeration in those last words as the sequel
will show, though as Zola was a man of absolute convictions, one
who detested compromises, it was only natural that he should look
unfavourably on many politicians and their methods. But, whatever his
views, it happened that politics repeatedly played an important part
in his life, even at the time when he appeared most devoted to purely
literary pursuits. It does not seem very difficult to divine how his
career would have shaped itself had he become a functionary. As he had
too independent a character to execute any orders unless he regarded
them as right, he would soon have found himself at loggerheads with his
superiors, dismissed or compelled to resign; and unlike the majority of
the discarded functionaries of the period he could hardly have sought
compensation in a parliamentary seat, for he was no orator. Thus, like
some others, he might have become a mere hanger-on of the Republican
party, one of those who only secured a real livelihood subsequent to
Thiers and MacMahon, when Gambetta's influence again became paramount
in France.
His refusal, at the first opportunity, of the sub-prefectoral
appointment which he had only accepted as a _pis-aller_, was therefore
wise. He could not get rid of politics, whatever may have been his
desires, but he at least confined himself to the duties of a political
journalist. He became a correspondent of "Le Sémaphore," the chief
daily paper of Marseilles, his connection with which lasted seven
years. Further he placed himself in communication with "La Cloche"
of Paris, for which he had written a few articles previous to the
Siege, and which, curiously enough, was directed by Louis Ulbach,--the
novelist and critic who had denounced "Thérèse Raquin" as "putrid
literature." That quarrel, apparently, had been patched up, and Zola
and Ulbach, while remaining of antagonistic literary schools, had
found some basis of agreement in politics. At all events the former
now became the descriptive parliamentary correspondent of "La Cloche,"
recording the doings of the National Assembly, first at Bordeaux, later
at Versailles, his connection with this journal lasting till the summer
of 1872, when he carried his pen to "Le Corsaire," for which he wrote
several fiery political articles, one of which, called "The Morrow of
the Crisis"[26] almost led to the paper's suppression.
Leaving Bordeaux for Paris about the time when the Assembly removed to
Versailles, Zola who had seen nothing of the German siege, at least
witnessed various incidents of the Commune.[27] The little house in
the Rue de La Condamine was now again his home, and at times he went
about the city, and at others betook himself to Versailles, zealously
attending to his duties for "La Cloche." At that moment there could be
no thought of book-writing; but after the fall of the Commune at the
end of May, 1871, he again turned to "La Curée," and prevailed upon
Ulbach to print that story as a serial. Considerable confusion still
prevailed in Paris, and he was put to many shifts for information which
he needed--shifts which some of his critics afterwards imputed to him
as crimes, though the wonder is that he should have been able to write
such a book at all, in the hurly-burly through which France was passing.
"La Curée" began to appear in "La Cloche" towards the end of September
(1871), and about the same time Lacroix at last published the initial
volume of the series, "La Fortune des Rougon," the final chapter of
which had remained lying in the offices of "Le Siècle" throughout the
war, much to the alarm of Zola, who had regarded it as lost. The book
met with little sale, little recognition, but this is not surprising.
France had not yet recovered from the great convulsions of the war and
the Commune, and small was the attention vouchsafed to literature.
Moreover, as Paris slowly settled down to a degree of quietude, it
desired amusement more than anything else--the sprightliest music,
the gayest songs, the very lightest literature obtainable. It was the
usual reaction, the same which had come with all the frivolity of
the Directory after the Terror's bath of blood. Produced, then, under
the most unfavourable conditions, "La Fortune des Rougon" did not
even secure the honour of a real second edition, for the copies which
may be found bearing the mention "second edition" on their covers and
title-pages, were merely a residue of the first one, only a portion of
which was bound when the book originally appeared.[28]
This was bad, and it seemed really as if Zola would never reach the end
of his troubles, for the Public Prosecution service took note of "La
Curée" as it appeared in "La Cloche," and adjudged a certain account
of a supper at the Café Riche to be immoral. It was early in November
when Zola received an intimation from the Public Prosecutor requesting
him to call at his office. He did so and was received by an official
who "advised" him to cease publishing his story in a newspaper. Zola
protested the purity of his intentions, explained that his one desire
was to show the corruption of society under the fallen Empire, but he
finally accepted the official "advice." On November 8, then, he wrote
to Ulbach, asking him to suspend publication, his letter being printed
in "La Cloche" with the following editorial comment: "We desire that
the public should fully know that whatever may be our personal opinion
of Zola's analytical method, and whatever danger he may incur from
the audacity of his studies, his imprudence is that of a most upright
character, sincerely attached to truth in art."
As it happened, the serial issue, if suspended in "La Cloche," was
completed in a periodical called "La République des Lettres" which
Catulle Mendès, the poet and son-in-law of Théophile Gautier, was then
editing. Mendès placed himself at Zola's disposal directly he heard of
the affair, and curiously enough he rendered him a similar service some
years later with respect to "L'Assommoir." The first edition of "La
Curée" was produced by Lacroix early in 1872,[29] and soon afterwards
the publisher, whose interests had been greatly affected by the war,
was forced to suspend business. Thus once more the demon of ill-luck
fell upon Zola's home. The "Lettres parisiennes" which he was then
writing for "La Cloche," his correspondence for "Le Sémaphore," did not
supply all his needs; terrible times came back, numerous bills given
to Lacroix were protested, executions followed, and on one desperate
occasion, there being nothing pawnable, for everything had been seized
except the bedding, which according to the law could not be attached,
the very wool of the mattresses on which Zola and his wife slept was
sold by the latter to a dealer in order to procure the necessary money
for bread.
In these distressful circumstances a great service was rendered to Zola
by a man for whose literary style he had no great admiration, though
curiously enough it was in more than one respect akin to his own. This
was Théophile Gautier to whose connection with Catulle Mendès reference
has just been made. Gautier had a fair knowledge of the young man's
literary work, and he heard, probably from Mendès, of his terrible
position. Now Gautier's publisher was M. Georges Charpentier, who had
lately taken over his father's business, and one evening when they
and Francisque Sarcey were together at the Comédie Française, their
conversation, during one of the _entr'actes_, fell on the young writers
of the time. "There is one among them," said Gautier,[30] "who is very
unlucky, and who is different from most of the others. You should
admit him among your authors, my dear Charpentier. If I am not vastly
mistaken he possesses a touch of genius. His name is Émile Zola. Have
you ever heard of him?"