he desired to apply certain theories to play-writing, and partly
because he knew that the successful dramatist advanced far more rapidly
than the successful novelist along the path to fortune. Thus, having
finished his three-act comedy, "Les Héritiers Rabourdin,"[9] in which
the gruesome was mingled with the farcical, he offered it to the Palais
Royal Theatre. But the manager of that house only cared for amusing
plays free from all lugubrious taint, his chief author being Labiche,
whose name was synonymous with unadulterated merriment; so Zola soon
carried his manuscript to M. Montigny of the Gymnase. Writing on July
23, 1874, to his friend and publisher, M. Charpentier, he gave the
following account of the issue of his endeavours:----
"My negotiations with Montigny have fallen through. He handed
me back my manuscript in the most charming manner, vowing
that he had a keen desire to stage a play of mine. He even
gave me my _entrées_ to the Gymnase, by way of consolation,
no doubt. Briefly, my play frightened him, but it is certain
that he long hesitated about it, and that the doors of his
theatre will be open to me if I only undertake 'to be good.'
As soon as my manuscript was returned to me I was eager to
carry it elsewhere. Decidedly, it is a disease; one wants
to be 'played,' whatever may be the chances. The only thing
left for me to do was to knock at the door of the Théâtre de
Cluny. I went there. And, yesterday, Weinschenk [the manager]
accepted my play. It will pass before Flaubert's,[10] about
the middle of September, heaven knows under what conditions,
for the company frightens me terribly. But what would you
have had me do? I had no alternative, I had to go to that
galley to ensure myself some little peace of mind. It would
have rendered me so unhappy to have left the manuscript lying
in a drawer."
The Théâtre de Cluny was then a third or fourth rate little house in
the Quartier Latin, and Zola's fears respecting its company were fully
justified. To give an idea of the fate which befell his play it will
be enough to mention that one of the "parts," that of Chapuzot, an
octogenarian, was confided to a young fellow named Olona, who in his
efforts to imitate an old man's voice ended by speaking like a "Punch."
Nevertheless, there was no hissing at the first performance which was
delayed until the 3d of November (1874); the demeanour of the audience
being rather one of bewilderment, particularly when in the third act
illness and death suddenly intruded into the midst of farce. But the
critics did not hesitate. They damned the play even as they had damned
"Thérèse Raquin," "Le Figaro" curtly declaring that it was repulsive,
tiresome, and immoral; and after seventeen performances, given to
well-nigh empty houses, except on Sundays when the shopkeepers and
working-people of the district attended and laughed good-naturedly,[11]
"Les Héritiers Rabourdin" disappeared from the stage without hope of
revival.
But this was not Zola's only work during the year 1874. He had now
moved from the Rue de La Condamine to 21, Rue St. Georges (now Rue des
Apennins) at Batignolles. Here again, unlike most Parisians, who live
in flats, he had a house to himself, with a garden, both considerably
larger than the previous ones. In the Rue de La Condamine he himself
had attended to his garden, made a kennel for his dog, erected his own
fowl and rabbit houses--for he was skilful with his hands--just like
any other modestly circumstanced dweller in Suburbia. But in the Rue
St. Georges his prosperity increased, and instead of employing a mere
_femme-de-ménage_ to help his wife in the housework, he was soon able
to engage two servants, man and wife.
His increased prosperity was due to the good offices of his friend,
Ivan Tourgeneff, who took no little interest in him. At this time Zola
no longer wrote political articles for the Paris press, for editors
deemed his pen too violent; and as he also carried revolutionary
methods into literary discussion, he was unable to find in France any
satisfactory outlet either for certain critical studies on eminent
writers which he had often thought of undertaking, or for any adequate
expression of his theories respecting fiction. In these circumstances
Tourgeneff recommended him to a St. Petersburg review, the "Viestnik
Yevropi," otherwise "The European Messenger." To this periodical
Zola became a regular and well-paid contributor for several years.
The essays and short stories which he wrote for it were naturally
translated into Russian, in which language they became known long
before the French text was printed.
It was also this Russian review that first issued "La Faute de l'Abbé
Mouret," the fifth instalment of the "Rougon-Macquarts" and one of the
most romantic of all Zola's novels. He wrote it in the Rue St. Georges
in the summer of 1874, after arranging for the publication in book
form of ten short stories which he had contributed during recent years
to newspapers, almanacs, and other periodicals. The little volume was
called "Nouveaux Contes à Ninon," and the reception given to it by
both the critics and the public was distinctly encouraging.[12] The
former, however, cold-shouldered "La Faute de l'Abbé Mouret," which was
published by Charpentier in 1875, though this was the first of Zola's
novels that reached, not a great sale certainly, but one which may
fairly be called considerable for that period. In 1876 a sixth edition
of it was reached, followed by another in the ensuing year.[13]
When "Abbé Mouret" was placed on the market, Zola, who seldom if ever
rested, was already working on his next book, "Son Excellence Eugène
Rougon," in which he dealt with the political side of the Second
Empire and sketched the life of the Imperial Court at Compiègne. Some
years previously, in 1865, when he was writing for "L'Événement," that
journal had published a series of articles signed "D," chronicling
the imperial sojourn at Compiègne; and these had been collected in
a volume to which the fanciful subtitle of "Confidences d'un Valet
de Chambre"[14] was given, though, in point of fact, the author was
simply a journalist, recommended by Théophile Gautier for the express
purpose of reporting the doings of the court during its _villegiatura_,
and in that way refuting the thousand rumours of indescribable orgies
at Compiègne, which circulated among the more credulous Parisians. From
the record in question, a very accurate one, Zola, who, of course had
never been a guest at Compiègne, derived considerable information, but
sundry critics, unacquainted with the truth, twitted him for having
placed reliance on back-stairs gossip, when in reality he had taken as
his guide statements issued with the Emperor's express approval.
But further information was given him by Flaubert, who had visited
Compiègne more than once as a court guest. And Goncourt tells us
that Flaubert, when questioned by Zola, proceeded to mimic the late
sovereign in characteristic fashion, walking up and down with his
figure bent, resting one hand on his back, and twirling his moustache
with the other, while mumbling idiotic remarks. "Napoleon III," added
Flaubert, by way of comment, "was unadulterated stupidity"; to which
proposition Goncourt retorted, wittily and with great truth, that
stupidity was usually loquacious, whereas the Emperor's had been silent
stupidity. "It was that which made his strength, it allowed one to
suppose everything."[15] No better judgment than this was ever passed
on Napoleon III. For twenty years the world regarded him as "deep,"
though, in reality, he was in many respects a fool, one who would never
even have reigned over France had it not been for the energy and
acumen of his bastard half-brother, the Duke de Morny.
Apropos of the latter, Goncourt mentions that one day when Alphonse
Daudet, who had been in the Duke's employment, was giving various
particulars about him, Zola expressed a keen regret that he had not
possessed this information in time to use it in "Son Excellence,"
which contains but a very imperfect sketch of Morny under the name of
Marsy. In a discussion which ensued, Zola evinced great eagerness to
put everything into his books--that is everything he learnt which might
be germane to his subjects and likely to cast light upon them. On the
whole, however, he was far less "personal" than Daudet. Both in "Son
Excellence Eugène Rougon" and in his later novel, "Paris," although
many of the characters suggested well-known people, almost every one
of them was a blend, so to say, of three or four originals, whereas
Daudet, sketching his characters from the life, often modified them so
little that those who knew their Paris could not regard some of his
books otherwise than as pillories.
The writing of "Son Excellence Eugène Rougon" proved a somewhat
laborious task for Zola, the period selected for the story being
largely antecedent to his participation in newspaper life, from which
he had learnt so much both politically and socially. And his desire
to be scrupulously accurate in all essential particulars led him
to undertake a variety of fatiguing researches. Hard work, indeed
excessive work, for he wrote regularly for the Russian review, and
penned some Parisian correspondence every day for "Le Sémaphore" of
Marseilles, besides proceeding with his novel, again reduced him to a
nervous condition, and one day, when he was with Goncourt and others,
he complained that while he wrote he often fancied he could see mice
scampering about him, or birds flying away on one hand or the other.
That spring (1875) others also felt "run down," as the saying goes.
Tourgeneff, for instance, complained of his nerves, and Flaubert was
haunted by the idea that there was always somebody behind him while he
worked.[16]
At last, when the summer came and his book was finished, Zola resolved
to seek a change, though not absolute rest, for idleness was repugnant
to him. His circumstances had now greatly improved; M. Charpentier had
torn up the original agreement for the Rougon-Macquart series, and
opened his cash-box, and Zola had at last liquidated the liabilities
which he had incurred by the failure of Lacroix. So, with his wife
and mother, he betook himself to a little Norman watering-place, St.
Aubin-sur-Mer, lying between the mouth of the Orne and the Calvados
rocks, and reached, in those days, by coach from Caen.
It was there, as Alexis relates, that he planned his next book,
"L'Assommoir," the idea of which had occurred to him before his
departure from Paris. In his previous volumes he had dealt with
the Imperial Court, the Parisian society, the political world, the
provincial life, the clerical intrigues of the Second Empire, and it
was only in "Le Ventre de Paris" that he had cast some side-lights upon
the working class of the capital. They, however, deserved an entire
volume to themselves, and Zola felt that he could write one, based
largely on his own personal knowledge of their habits and customs, for
in his days of poverty he had dwelt among them at Montrouge, and in the
Rue St. Jacques, and again on the Boulevard Montparnasse. Besides what
he had written about them in a few newspaper articles or short stories,
such as "Le Chomage," "Mon voisin Jacques" and "Le Forgeron,"[17] which
will be found in the "Nouveaux Contes à Ninon," he remembered a great
many things, funerals, festivities, and junketings. He had discovered,
too, a suitable title--"L'Assommoir"--in Alfred Delvau's slang
dictionary, and it was this circumstance which, when he had written two
chapters of the book in his usual style, suddenly inspired him with the
idea of penning it in the real vernacular of the Parisian masses, not
the special slang of thieves and prostitutes, such as Eugène Sue had
employed, and, in part, invented, in "Les Mystères de Paris," but in
the current _langage populaire_, understood by everybody.[18]
It was during Zola's stay at St. Aubin, face to face with the
sea,--whose influence was not lost upon him for, as will be shown, it
suggested in part a later work, "La Joie de Vivre,"--that he mapped
out this book on the Parisian _prolétaire_, which was to raise him to
fame, and Alexis tells us that though he already had the chief scenes
of the story in his mind he was for a time at a loss for a suitable
intrigue which would weld them well together. The idea of taking a girl
of the people, who stumbles and has two children by her seducer, then
marries another man, establishes herself in business by dint of hard
work, but is borne down by the conduct of her husband, who becomes a
drunkard, had previously occurred to him, figuring, indeed, in the
original genealogical tree which he had drawn up for his series, but
he felt that the husband's drunkenness might not fully account for the
wife's downfall, and he remained at a loss how to proceed until, all at
once, he was inspired to bring the woman's seducer back into her home.
That would make everything possible, and he decided to model his story
accordingly.
He busied himself with "L'Assommoir" on his return to Paris in the
autumn, and arranged for the "serialisation" of his completed novel,
"Son Excellence Eugène Rougon," in "Le Siècle" early in the following
year, 1876.[19] He was then in high spirits. "Fortune," he said
to Edmond de Goncourt, "was at last finding its way to his home."
Indeed, a stroke of luck had befallen him. A daily evening paper, "Le
Bien Public," had appointed him its dramatic critic at a salary of
six thousand francs a year. This journal had been started with the
support of Thiers, since whose resignation of the presidency of the
Republic in 1873 France had been governed in a reactionary spirit by
MacMahon's ministers. During that troublous period "Le Bien Public,"
whose connection with Thiers was well known, rendered good service
to the Republican cause, first rallying many hesitating people, then
becoming more and more democratic, and helping on that alliance of the
middle class and the _proletariat_ which saved France from monarchical
intrigues and resulted in MacMahon's downfall. Zola was delighted
to join the paper, particularly as it allowed him all freedom in
his dramatic criticisms, which were written in his usual trenchant
style. Of course he had to give to them some of the time he had
hitherto allotted to his books, but he was not afraid of additional
work, particularly when it was of a nature to bring him nearer to the
Parisian stage, on which, in spite of every rebuff, he still dreamt of
triumphing. Moreover, the increase in his income was very welcome; with
the salaries he deceived from "Le Bien Public" and "Le Sémaphore"--for
which he still wrote--the proceeds of his contributions to the Russian
review, which some months amounted to eight hundred francs, and the
money accruing from his books, his income, in the early part of 1876,
before the serial publication of "L'Assommoir," represented quite
twenty-five thousand francs, and perhaps thirty thousand francs a
year.[20] But he decided to offer his new story to "Le Bien Public";
and that he could now command good terms is shown by the fact that
the paper agreed to pay him ten thousand francs for the serial rights
without even seeing his manuscript, which, by the way, was not ready,
though he had given information respecting the subject he meant to
treat.
The serial issue began in June (1876) and there was an immediate
outcry. Whatever might be thought of Zola's novels in book form, they
were not liked by the newspaper readers of those days; and, in the case
of "L'Assommoir," there were not only complaints of immorality, but
the author was accused, ludicrously enough, of slandering the masses,
insulting the working classes. The latter charge alarmed the director
of "Le Bien Public" far more than the first did. Important political
issues were then at stake, and it was essential that the working-man
should not be offended! Of course people judged the story merely
by the instalments as they appeared, and these as yet gave little
indication of what it would be when completed. Thus a very narrow
view was taken by some readers, while others were more particularly
horrified by the slang in which the work abounded, complaining notably
of its appearance, not only in the dialogue but in the descriptive and
narrative passages, into which Zola had introduced it with the express
object of suggesting that this was a story of the masses told by one of
themselves. Briefly, in all respects, the outcry became so great that
in July the director of "Le Bien Public" decided to cease publication.
Nevertheless, the paper honestly paid Zola the full amount specified in
the agreement.
At this moment M. Catulle Mendès again came to the rescue, and, for a
nominal sum, a thousand francs or so, Zola handed him the remainder
of his manuscript for publication in "La République des Lettres";
then, leaving his literary bombshell to complete its work, betook
himself to Piriac, on the Breton coast, between Vannes and St. Nazaire,
for a holiday. In Paris the periodical edited by M. Mendès suddenly
leaped into notoriety. It supplied the latter part of "L'Assommoir"
gratuitously to those subscribers of "Le Bien Public" who desired to
read it, but at the same time its sales increased largely, for so much
was said about this extraordinary story, so violent were the attacks
upon it, that many, who as yet had seen nothing of it, wished to
ascertain its character and form their own opinions.
Amid all the hubbub, a well-known Parisian journalist of that period,
Tony Révillon, who had catered for the working classes since the latter
years of the Empire, meeting Paul Alexis one day in the autumn, said
to him: "Tell Zola to make his mind easy. His book will sell like hot
cakes.... 'L'Assommoir' will be a wonderful success."
In a pecuniary sense, such was indeed the case directly M. Charpentier
published the book in 1877.[21] Of the ordinary edition fifty thousand
copies--a very large figure for those days--were soon sold, and at
the end of 1879, eighty thousand had been disposed of; these being
independent of a "popular" illustrated edition, issued in fifty-nine
"parts" at ten centimes apiece, forty thousand copies of which were
disseminated chiefly among the Parisian working classes (whom the story
was said to libel) in the course of 1878 alone. From 1877 onward an
unexampled controversy raged round the book as well as round Zola's
principles and methods generally--a controversy to which additional
zest was imparted both by a dramatic adaptation of the story, which
drew all Paris to the Théâtre de l'Ambigu, and by the publication in
French of some of the articles on French literature and literary men
which Zola had written for the Russian review. More fuel was added to
the fire by a pamphlet he penned and called "La République française
et la Littérature," and by a series of papers he contributed to "Le
Voltaire" and collected a little later under the title of "Le Roman
Expérimental." Wherever one went in Paris one heard allusion to or
discussion of Zola, "L'Assommoir," and "naturalism." The newspapers
were full of articles: the author was attacked by such men as Henri
Fouquier in "Le XIXe Siècle," Francisque Sarcey in "Le Temps," Jules
Claretie in "La Presse," Gaucher in "La Revue Bleue." "La Revue de
France" joined in the hostile chorus and so, too, did the Olympian
"Revue des Deux Mondes"; while "La Vie littéraire" and "La Jeune
France" joined "La République des Lettres" in defending the much-abused
author.
But pamphlets also rained upon Paris, there was "Zola, Pape et César,"
by Madame Arnault; "Monsieur Zola," by "Papa Cadet"; a "Petit Traité
de Littérature Naturaliste," by "Camille B." and Albert Vanier;
"Naturalisme ou Réalisme," by F. de Bus; "M. Zola et son Assommoir," by
Frédéric Erbs; "Apropos de l'Assommoir," by Édouard Rod, and several
others. But mere pamphlets did not suffice, there came "poems" like
"En r'venant d' l'Assommoir," by Galipaux; parodies like "L'Assommoir
du Cirque Franconi" and "L'Assommoir pour rire," by Blondelet and
Beaumaine; and finally there were lectures both against Zola and in
defence of him, the most notable of the latter, one which particularly
angered both the conservative critics and the sensitive Parnassians,
being delivered by M. Léon Hennique in the Salle des Conférences on the
Boulevard des Capucines.
To a few of the matters enumerated above, the production of
"L'Assommoir" as a play, and the publication in volume form of some
of Zola's literary papers, it will be necessary to refer again in
following the thread of this narrative; but they have been mentioned
here in order that the reader may at once form some idea of the
sensation which the appearance of "L'Assommoir" caused, first in the
literary world of Paris, whence it spread throughout the reading
public. In the literary annals of France, 1876, 1877, and 1878 must
always rank as the years of "L'Assommoir." Yet they were by no means
barren in other respects. They cover the period when Victor Hugo
published, not only a new series of "La Légende des Siècles," but also
"L'Art d'être Grandpère" and "L'Histoire d'un Crime." And other poets
were raising their voices: Leconte de Lisle was issuing his translation
of Sophocles, Mallarmé his "Après-midi d'un Faune," Dierx his "Amants,"
Anatole France his "Noces Corinthiennes," Richepin his "Chanson des
Gueux." And fiction, as usual, poured from the printing presses of
France. Flaubert's "Trois Contes"; Daudet's "Jack" and "Le Nabab";
Goncourt's "La Fille Élisa"; Octave Feuillet's "Amours de Philippe";
George Sand's last stories, "La Tour de Percemont" and "Marianne";
Ferdinand Fabre's best book, "L'Abbé Tigrane," were then first offered
to the reading public. And going further afield one finds "Le Train 17"
and "La Maison Vide," by Jules Claretie; "Les Batailles du Mariage"
and "Sans Famille," by Hector Malot; "Samuel Brohl," by Cherbuliez;
"Raymonde," by André Theuriet; "Michel Strogoff," by Jules Verne;
"L'Homme de la Croix-aux-Bœufs," by Léon Cladel, also appearing at
this time. But none of these, and indeed, briefly, no novel, or play,
or poem, or historical or philosophical work of the time stands forth
conspicuously, preëminently, as "L'Assommoir" does, to give its name to
the date, to mark the period, to indicate a climax or an evolution in
French literature.
Before "L'Assommoir," the critics had often treated Zola's books and
theories with silent contempt, but they could do so no longer. They
were at last compelled to recognise that a new force had arisen, and
that they must be up and doing if they wished to prevent it from
gaining the mastery. As happens at every literary evolution, as was the
case when the Romantic supplanted the Classic school, all the older
men, and, indeed, nearly all of any age who had acquired a recognised
position, were against Zola, his adherents being mostly young writers
whose positions were not yet made. It has been mentioned that some of
the friends of his youth and early manhood had dropped away from him,
in a measure by the force of circumstances. But "Le Ventre de Paris"
and "L'Assommoir" brought him others, and in particular there were
five young men of great promise who, for a time, became known as his
"band." Taking them by order of seniority, one may place first the
ever-faithful Paul Alexis, a Provençal, in 1877 thirty years of age.
Second came Joris Karl Huysmans, a Parisian of Dutch origin, nine and
twenty years old, and already the author of a volume of prose poems
suggestive of Baudelaire, and a novel, "Marthe." Next there was Guy de
Maupassant, a Norman, seven and twenty, introduced to Zola by their
mutual friend and master, Flaubert; then Henri Céard, a thoroughbred
Parisian, six and twenty, who without introduction had called upon Zola
one Sunday to tell him that he had read his books and admired them;
and, finally, Léon Hennique, a native of Guadeloupe, who numbered but
five and twenty years against the seven and thirty which Zola completed
at the time when his first great book was published.[22]