at the Council of Ministers, resigned the office of War Minister (in
which he was succeeded by General Chanoine) and resumed the duties of
Military Governor of Paris; in which capacity, to revenge himself for
the recent disclosures of Colonel Picquart, he cast the latter into
a military prison. Then, on September 23, a process-server appeared
at Zola's house to levy execution in virtue of the judgment obtained
by the handwriting experts.[35] All those incidents--and also the
Fashoda trouble, which if it had ended badly would have compelled
Zola to leave England--affected the novelist's health, but he fretted
more particularly on account of the ailing state of a pet dog,--a toy
Pomeranian named the Chevalier de Perlinpinpin, but familiarly called
Pinpin only--which he had been obliged to leave in Paris, foreign dogs
not being admitted into England. Madame Zola was then in Paris in
charge of the little animal and did everything possible for it, but it
pined for its master, whose constant companion it had been, on whose
writing-table and in whose wastepaper basket it had been for years
accustomed to lie.
Zola was passionately attached to his dogs and other animals, as his
writings testify;[36] and when he learnt the truth about Pinpin, which
was kept from him for a time, he grieved exceedingly and became quite
ill, experiencing an attack of the angina from which he suffered
periodically. As he would not see a doctor some medicine he was
accustomed to take in such cases was obtained from France. But more
than once Vizetelly became alarmed respecting him, for the stifling
fits left him quite exhausted. "I shall die like this some day," he
said more than once, "but it is useless to get a doctor. There is
nothing to be done beyond what I do."
Thus, still and ever, he fretted about his dog, particularly if a day
or two passed without the receipt of a letter or a telegram respecting
its condition. On or about September 26 Vizetelly went to him with the
important news that M. Brisson had at last referred the revision of
the Dreyfus case to the Cour de Cassation. Such tidings seemed likely
to cheer him; but directly he caught sight of Vizetelly he exclaimed,
"A telegram! About Pinpin?" And when Vizetelly answered no, his face
fell, and scarcely listening to the good news he sank back on the sofa,
muttering, "Ah! if it had only been about my poor dog!" A few days
later he learnt that Pinpin was dead. Then for a moment he remained
grieving piteously. But all at once, shaking his fist, he shouted, "The
scoundrels! it was they who killed him!"--referring of course to the
anti-Dreyfusites.
But it was only suspense that unnerved Zola either with regard to
the episodes of the Affair or in connection with his dog. Confronted
by the inevitable in the case of Pinpin, he braced himself and began
to mend. Soon afterwards (October 10), an execution having been duly
levied at his house in the Rue de Bruxelles, a sale took place there.
In the throng which then assembled were many admirers who hoped to
be able to purchase souvenirs. But Zola had previously arranged that
whatever might be the article first offered for sale, M. Fasquelle,
his publisher, should bid the full amount of the execution. This
was done; the auctioneer put up a Louis XIII table and M. Fasquelle
bid thirty-two thousand francs[37] for it, at which price it became
nominally his property. The sale was then finished, and the would-be
buyers of souvenirs retired disappointed.
[Illustration: Zola's Dining-Room]
Late in October, when the Cour de Cassation, accepting the question
of revision in principle, began its famous inquiry, and when M.
Brisson fell from office to be succeeded by M. Dupuy, Zola was removed
from Addlestone[38] to the Queen's Hotel, Upper Norwood, where he
remained till the end of his stay in England. He was still writing
"Fécondité," to which he devoted all his mornings; and occupying a
small suite of rooms in one of the pavilions of the hotel, taking his
meals in private and holding no intercourse with his neighbours, his
loneliness increased, though Norwood around him was teeming with life.
At intervals, however, he now received a few visits from friends.
The first who came was M. Yves Guyot, who had championed the cause
of Dreyfus in "Le Siècle," which he directed, from the outset. With
him was an English friend, Mr. J. H. Levy, of the Personal Rights'
Association. Later came M. Jaurès, the famous French Socialist leader,
another champion of the good cause; later still, Zola's old friend, M.
Théodore Duret, the historian of the early years of the Third Republic.
M. Fasquelle and M. Octave Mirbeau also saw the novelist at this time;
and about Easter, 1899, Maître Labori paid a flying visit to England to
consult him. There was one American visitor, Mr. Brett of the New York
Macmillan Company, and a few English ones: Mr. George Moore, Mr. Lucien
Wolf, Mr. Chatto and his partner, Mr. Percy Spalding. But those visits,
besides being brief, were spread over a period of seven or eight
months. Madame Zola certainly joined her husband for some part of the
time, but the travelling, and more particularly the English climate,
tried her health exceedingly, and for some weeks she was laid up. For
the rest, the Vizetellys and the Warehams were frequently at Norwood,
and there was still no little correspondence between the novelist and
his translator. Here are a couple of notes written by Zola early in
1899:
January 3, '99.
My dear _Confrère_ and Friend,--I have just telegraphed to
you that the whole story about an English journalist having
interviewed me is purely and simply a lie. I have seen
nobody. Besides, there can be no question of extraditing me:
they could only serve me with the judgment of the Assize
Court. Those people don't even know what they write about.
As for ----'s indiscretion, this is much to be regretted.
I am writing to him. For the sake of our communications I
have always desired that Wareham's name and address should
be known only to those on whom one can depend. Tell Wareham
to remain on his guard and _never_ acknowledge that he knows
my address.[39] Persevere in that course yourself. That will
suffice for the moment. I will wait a few days to see if
anything occurs, before deciding whether the correspondence
arrangements should be altered. It would be a big affair;
and I should afterwards regret a change if it were to prove
uncalled for. So I repeat, let us wait.
Thursday, February 16, '99.
My dear _Confrère_,--You did right to refuse Mr. ---- my
address. _I absolutely decline to see anybody._ Whoever may
call on you, under whatever pretext, show him the door and
preserve the silence of the tomb. Less than ever am I in a
humour to let people disturb me! As for Mr. Chatto and his
partner, as you and they know, I shall be delighted to see
them; but as you are also aware, my wife is at this moment
very poorly indeed, and I am in a very low state myself. We
should be sorry hosts, so kindly ask our friends to postpone
the visit till a little later. Our _amitiés_ to you and
yours. Z.
On the day the second of the above letters was written, President
Félix Faure died suddenly and under what seemed to be suspicious
circumstances. It is probable that his seizure was caused by the shock
he had experienced a few hours previously when certain revelations
made to him by a foreign visitor of princely rank had dispelled his
confidence in some of the prominent military men whom he had so long
trusted and supported. The news naturally filled Zola with anxiety,
for the future course of events might largely depend on the character
of M. Faure's successor. Fortunately the choice of the French Congress
fell on M. Émile Loubet, then President of the Senate. Other important
incidents--M. Déroulède's attempt at a _coup d'état_, the transference
of the revision of the Dreyfus case from the Criminal Chamber of the
Cour de Cassation to the entire body--kept Zola in a nervous state
throughout February and March. His birthday fell on April 2, and
Vizetelly, finding it impossible to be with him on that occasion, wrote
him a note to which he replied as follows:
My dear _Confrère_ and Friend,--Thanks for your good wishes
on the occasion of the anniversary of my birth. I feel deeply
touched by them in the state of sorrowful emotion in which
I am. You write me some very good and true things which go
straight to my heart. And I thank you to-day for the devotion
and the discreet attention which you have never ceased to
show me since the day when I set foot on this land of exile.
I shall expect you the day you please to select, and with
kind remembrances to your family, I cordially press your hand.
ÉMILE ZOLA.
As the time for the decision of the Cour de Cassation drew near, the
novelist became more and more restless. He finished "Fécondité" in
May, and on the twenty-seventh of that month decided that whatever
might be the judgment of the court, he would return to France directly
it was given. Everything pointed to a favourable issue, and in that
anticipation he drafted a declaration which he proposed to issue
in "L'Aurore" on his arrival in Paris. On the evening of June 3 he
received a telegram worded, "Cheque postponed," which, in accordance
with previous arrangements, signified that revision had been granted
and that Dreyfus would have to appear before a new court-martial.
Had the words been "Cheque unpaid," they would have meant "Revision
refused," while "Cheque paid" would have signified not only that
revision was accorded but that Dreyfus would not even be tried afresh.
For a long time previously Zola had been receiving similar telegrams
which, in accordance with a plan devised by him, were full of hidden
meaning.
M. Fasquelle and his wife were then in London, and it was speedily
arranged that Zola, who was now in high spirits, should return to
France with them on the following night, Sunday, June 4. This he did,
quitting England without regret since he was going home; though he
repeatedly acknowledged that everything possible had been done for his
comfort, and that he had seen a great deal that interested him keenly.
He appreciated the wonderful change which seemed to have come over the
English press with respect to himself, and he was grateful also to the
various persons who had recognised him and preserved discretion.[40]
About the hour when he reached Paris on the morning of June 5,
"L'Aurore" appeared with his declaration "Justice!" a translation of
which was issued the same day in "The Westminster Gazette."[41] After
recalling under what circumstances he had been obliged to leave France,
mentioning how he had been threatened and insulted and how cruelly he
had suffered both before and during his exile, Zola reviewed the many
developments of the Dreyfus case. And he continued:
"Now, as truth has been made manifest and justice has been
granted, I return. I desire to do so as quietly as possible,
in the serenity of victory, without giving any occasion
for public disturbances. Those treat me unworthily who
would confound me with the base folk who batten on public
demonstrations. Even as I remained quiet abroad, so shall I
resume my seat at the national hearth like a peaceful citizen
who wishes to disturb none, but only desires to resume his
usual work without giving people any occasion to occupy
themselves further about him."
He disclaimed, he said, all reward or applause, for no merit attached
to what he had done. The cause was so beautiful, so human. Truth had
conquered, and it could not have been otherwise. Then he added:
"Moreover, my reward I have it already; it is that of
thinking of the innocent man whom I have helped to extricate
from the living tomb in which he had been plunged in agony
for four long years. Ah! I confess that the idea of his
return, the thought of seeing him free and of pressing his
hands in mine, overwhelms me with extraordinary emotion,
fills my eyes with happy tears! That moment will suffice
to repay me for all my worries. My friends and I will have
done a good deed for which every good heart in France will
remember us gratefully. And what more could one desire?--a
family that will love us, a wife and children who will bless
us, a man who will owe it to us that in him has become
embodied the triumph of equity and human solidarity."
Afterwards, referring to "J'Accuse," he said:
"Do people remember the abominable clamour which greeted my
Letter to the President of the Republic? I was the insulter
of the Army, a man who had sold himself, a man without
fatherland! Literary friends, in their consternation and
fright, drew away from me, abandoned me to the horror of
my crime. Articles were indeed written which will weigh
heavily on the consciences of those who signed them. Never,
it was urged, had the most brutal of writers, a madman full
of sickly pride, dared to address a more insulting and more
mendacious letter to the Chief of the State! And now just
reperuse my poor letter. I have become a trifle ashamed of
it--ashamed of its discretion, its opportunism, I will almost
say its cowardice.... I had greatly softened things in it; I
had even passed some by in silence,--some which are manifest
to-day and acknowledged, but of which I then still wished to
doubt. To tell the truth, yes, I already suspected Henry,
but I had no proofs. So I thought it best to leave him out
of the case. And I divined other matters, for confidential
information had come to me unsolicited,--information so
terrible that, fearing its frightful consequences, I did
not think that I ought to make it public. Yet now those
_confidences_ have been revealed, have become commonplace
truisms. And my poor letter is no longer up to date; it
seems quite childish, a mere skit, the paltry invention of
some timid novelist, by the side of the truth, so superb and
fierce.... There was not an unnecessary word in it, there was
nothing but the grief of a citizen respectfully soliciting
justice of the Chief of his country. But such has been the
everlasting history of my writings--I have never been able
to pen a book, a page even, without being covered with
falsehood and insult, though on the morrow my assailants have
been constrained to admit that I was in the right."
After indicating that he personally harboured no anger or rancour
against anybody, Zola pointed out that, in the public interest, some
example ought to be made of the wrong-doers, for otherwise the masses
would never believe in the immensity of the crime. "But," said he, "I
leave to Nemesis the task of completing her work. I shall not aid her."
Then came an impassioned appeal on behalf of the noble and persecuted
Colonel Picquart, for the good work would only be complete when justice
had been done him. And Zola continued:
"All former political parties have now collapsed, and there
remain but two camps,--that of the reactionary forces of
the past, and that of the men bent on inquiry, truth, and
uprightness, who are marching towards the future. That order
of battle alone is logical; it must be retained in order that
to-morrow may be ours. To work, then! By pen, by speech,
and by action! To work for progress and deliverance! 'Twill
be the completion of the task of 1789, a pacific revolution
in mind and in heart, the democracy welded together, freed
from evil passions, based at last on the just law of labour
which will permit an equitable apportionment of wealth.
Thenceforward France a free country, France a dispenser of
justice, the harbinger of the equitable society of the coming
century, will once more find herself a sovereign among the
nations. And there exists no empire, however cased in mail it
be, but will crumble when France shall have given justice to
the world even as she has already given it liberty. I believe
in no other historical _rôle_ for her henceforward; never yet
will she have known such a splendour of glory."
The conclusion followed:
"I am at home. The Public Prosecutor may therefore signify
to me, whenever he pleases, the sentence of the Versailles
Assizes condemning me by default to a year's imprisonment
and three thousand francs fine. And we shall once more find
ourselves before a jury. In provoking a prosecution I only
desired truth and justice. To-day they are here. My case can
now serve no useful purpose; it no longer even interests me.
Justice simply has to say whether it be a crime to desire
truth."[42]
Unfortunately subsequent events confirmed only some of Zola's generous
anticipations. M. Dupuy fell from power on June 12, M. Waldeck-Rousseau
succeeded him on the 22d, Dreyfus landed in France on July 1, and the
new court-martial on him assembled at Rennes on August 8. His partisans
were at first full of hope, but various incidents supervening (among
others, a dastardly attempt to assassinate Maître Labori), no little
anxiety returned. Zola had remained in seclusion at Médan,[43] glancing
at the final proofs of "Fécondité," which was appearing serially
in "L'Aurore," and thinking of his next work, "Travail." Meantime
Vizetelly was repeatedly solicited by English editors to induce him to
write something about the court-martial, but he was unwilling to do so
for any foreign newspapers, and besides, as he put it, it was neither
right nor possible to say anything until the verdict was given. He
communicated with Vizetelly several times on these matters, on one
occasion sending a card on which, in spite of all the bad rumours, he
indicated his confidence in the result of the proceedings: "My dear
friend," he said, "I will say nothing, and I beg you to say nothing in
my name. One must wait firmly for victory."[44]
On September 9, however, the unfortunate Dreyfus was once more found
guilty of the crime he had never committed. Zola, still at Médan, was
profoundly shocked and horrified by the verdict, and again he published
a declaration, "Le Cinquième Acte,"[45] in which he expressed his fear
that the truth might fall on France from Germany in a manner which
might have the most terrible consequences. The result of the trial
certainly caused amazement all the world over. In Great Britain the
indignation was extreme, and a proposal to boycott the Exhibition which
was to be held in Paris in 1900 was agitated by several newspapers.
Vizetelly was appealed to by some who felt that Zola might be able to
quiet the outcry, and an offer of two shillings a word for an article
which might run to ten thousand words, was made to him by the editor of
a London newspaper. But even this proposal was declined by Zola, who
wrote to Vizetelly on September 14:
My dear _Confrère_ and Friend,--I do not take payment in
France for my articles on the Dreyfus case, and still less
would I accept money from a foreign newspaper. As for
intervening between France and the world, I will not and
cannot do so, for all sorts of reasons. Besides, in spite
of the gravity of the symptoms, I do not believe that
our Exhibition is seriously threatened. I still wish to
believe that France will do what may be necessary to be in
a position of dignity next May when she will receive her
guests. All this between ourselves, this letter is absolutely
for you alone. You would cause me the greatest grief by the
slightest indiscretion.... Thanks for the English newspapers
you have sent. I have just read them with keen interest. But
all that does not frighten me much.[46]
Five days later the unhappy Dreyfus accepted the pardon offered him by
President Loubet, and Zola then addressed a beautiful, pathetic letter
to the poor martyr's wife, in which he gave her the assurance that his
friends and himself would continue the battle until both her husband
and France should be fully rehabilitated.[47]
In October "Fécondité" was published as a volume, and dealing as it did
with a problem of national importance, the decline in the birth-rate
and the massacre of infantile life in France, it attracted widespread
attention. It was a very outspoken book, but a necessary one, and its
exposure of the vices of married life was one to be applied to other
countries besides France. But Vizetelly, who remembered the past and
knew that Pecksniffs and Podsnaps still flourished in England, felt
that the national cant would not suffer a plain statement of the truth.
Some difficulty occurred therefore with respect to the translation
of "Fécondité," the English version of which had to be considerably
curtailed. In France the sale of the original work was assisted by the
fact that after all the abominations of the Affair a certain number of
Zola's former admirers were now gradually returning to him.[48]
His remaining share in the Dreyfus case may be dealt with briefly. The
victim was at last free, restored to his wife and children; and thus a
great part of Zola's object had been achieved. The charge against the
novelist of having libelled the Esterhazy court-martial still had to
be considered, but his trial was repeatedly postponed in consequence
of the government bringing an Amnesty Bill before the legislature.
Zola repeatedly protested against the measure, addressing long letters
to both the Senate and President Loubet on the subject.[49] He did
not wish to be amnestied but judged, and he thought it abominable
that the same law should be applied to him and other defenders of the
truth as to all the evil-doers who had persecuted Dreyfus, screened
the scoundrel Esterhazy, and made use of every possible lie, forgery,
and fraud, in order to obscure the truth, deceive the nation, and
prevent justice from being done. But Zola's protests, whether by
letter or by word of mouth, before the Senatorial Committee, which
received him on March 14, 1900, were of no more avail than those of
Dreyfus himself, M. Joseph Reinach, and Colonel Picquart. In point
of fact M. Waldeck-Rousseau, the Prime Minister, was most concerned
about the Clericalist peril behind the Affair,--the strenuous efforts
which bishops, priests, and particularly religious orders had been
making to capture France. They had used the Dreyfus case as a weapon;
under their secret direction it had proved indeed a powerful one, and
in M. Waldeck-Rousseau's opinion, before all else, it was necessary
to deprive them of it. For that purpose he devised the Amnesty in the
hope that he would thereby kill the Affair, put it out of the way,
before dealing with the religious orders. The right course would have
been to proceed against the compromised members of the General Staff,
but after the Rennes verdict M. Waldeck-Rousseau had not the courage
to do so. Besides, in that matter he was largely in the hands of his
own War Minister, General de Galliffet. France was committed to the
Amnesty long before General André arose to enforce obedience in the
higher ranks of the army. And thus for political reasons a crowning
iniquity was perpetrated. Impunity was assured to the Merciers,
the Boisdeffres, the Billots, and all the others. At the most they
lost their military positions. Every criminal action in the Affair
was stopped and prohibited by the Amnesty Bill, which became law in
November, 1900. The privileges of parties in civil actions were alone
reserved, though at the same time Captain Dreyfus retained the right
to apply for further revision and even rehabilitation whenever he
might discover the necessary new facts. At that moment it was scarcely
imagined in high places that he would do so. M. Waldeck-Rousseau, like
many another before him, fancied that he had indeed killed the Affair;
but at the time of writing these lines it is once more before the Cour
de Cassation.
[Illustration: Photo by Émile Zola Mme. Zola at the Queen's Hotel,
Upper Norwood January, 1899]
It should be added that, prior to the Amnesty, Zola had been acquitted
of the charge of traducing Judet of "Le Petit Journal," who had
so foully attacked his father's memory; and had moreover secured
a judgment condemning the unprincipled journalist to pay him five
thousand francs' damages. Judet, however, carried the case to the
Appeal Court, and it long remained in abeyance. Finally, in a
letter addressed to Maître Labori on March 7, 1901, Zola renounced all
further action in this case as well as in one instituted against the
handwriting experts for the purpose of setting aside the judgment by
which they had levied an execution on the novelist's furniture. "Let
them keep the money, let them go off with their pockets full," wrote
Zola; "the bitter irony of it all will be the greater, and there will
be yet a little more baseness in the Affair." For his part he did
not wish that the great battle in a high and noble cause should end
in sordid squabbles about sums of money. Though it was said that the
Amnesty effaced everything, the Public Prosecution Office had retained
the fines and costs levied upon him, and this, again, he regarded as
monstrous; but he repeated that he did not wish to drag the cause
through petty proceedings based on personal interest. The truth would
not come from them, though assuredly it would come eventually.