the civilised world. Every day for an entire week the vestibule of
the house in the Rue de Bruxelles was crowded with notabilities in
literature, science, art, and politics, who came to inscribe their
names in the registers. Telegrams, letters, and addresses of sympathy
were continually arriving from all parts of France and from well-nigh
every foreign country, emanating now from societies and associations,
now from eminent men, now too from members of the French and foreign
Governments. Wreaths and coronals and other combinations of flowers
followed in profusion, and a public subscription was speedily started
for a monument in Zola's honour. But the enemy did not disarm. Vile
libels were sold on the boulevards. Henri Rochefort wrote a foul
article in "L'Intransigeant," insinuating that Zola had committed
suicide because he had discovered Dreyfus to be really guilty. Édouard
Drumont declared in "La Libre Parole" that the name of Zola inspired
horror in all who possessed French hearts. "La Patrie" shrieked that
the dead man had defended treason and vilified the flag. The renegade
Jews of "Le Gaulois," after asserting that he had shown no pity for
France, declared, "Nevertheless we are Christians, and we therefore
hope that God will show some mercy to this wretched creature who knew
no compassion." The said Jews, by the way, after the usual fashion
of renegades, had never evinced the slightest pity for the martyr of
Devil's Island, but in their Catholic fervour had fiendishly approved
of the abominable tortures devised by the Under Secretary for the
Colonies, the strangely named Lebon. As for "La Croix," the organ of
the religious orders, it viewed Zola's death with unctuous complacency,
admitting that the occurrence might well have been "a merciful accident
by which at least one crime had been spared that wretched man." But
another clerical rag, calling itself "Le Peuple Français," declared
with all solemnity that God had stifled Zola in punishment for his
sins. Others enlarged on that theme: it was by no mere coincidence,
they said, that Zola had died on Michaelmas Day, St. Michael had really
descended in the Rue de Bruxelles! Thus Paris was again divided into
two hostile camps, Dreyfusites and anti-Dreyfusites confronting one
another threateningly as if the Affair had sprung to life again from
Zola's ashes.
There had been great changes, however, in government circles. An
insidious malady having compelled M. Waldeck-Rousseau to resign office
after carrying the policy of Republican defence no further than its
first stage, the prime ministership had passed to M. Combes, a man
then very much misunderstood by most people, who ascribed to him a
vacillating character, whereas his friends were aware that he really
possessed a remarkably strong will, and that if he now and again
seemed to follow rather than direct the course of events this was
mere diplomacy on the part of one who never lost sight of the goal he
desired to attain. M. Combes and his colleagues were undoubtedly on
the side of truth and justice, and though, in the state of public
opinion, they felt they could not appeal to the Legislature to accord
a national funeral to Zola's remains, they at once decided that the
Government should participate in the obsequies.
[Illustration: Zola's Bedroom]
Zola's will, a very brief one, executed in 1883 and bequeathing all
his property to his wife, contained no indication of where or how
he desired to be buried. But the widow was well acquainted with his
desires, and gave instructions that the interment should take place in
Paris and, as in Hugo's case, without any religious rites. The question
was raised whether an application should be made to the authorities
for the military honours to which Zola was entitled as an officer of
the Legion of Honour, his suspension from which had ceased with the
Amnesty. It was decided to make no such application, but to accept the
honours if they were tendered, which decision was scarcely taken when
the Minister of War, General André, signified his resolve that they
should be accorded. He further sent his _chef de cabinet_, General
Percin, to the Rue de Bruxelles to tender his condolences, whereupon
the Nationalist newspapers began to shriek that the army was disgraced.
As it was also asserted by a writer of "Le Gaulois," a renegade Jew
named Pollonnais, that General Percin, having met ex-Captain Dreyfus at
the house, had shaken hands with him, Count Boniface de Castellane, the
notorious husband of a daughter of Jay Gould, wrote to General Percin
inquiring if this were true. The contemptuous answer which ensued led
to a duel in which each combatant slightly wounded the other. As a
matter of fact, General Percin had not met M. Dreyfus when he called
in the Rue de Bruxelles, and had therefore had no occasion either to
offer or refuse him his hand.
The victim of the military and clerical factions had naturally been
admitted to view the remains of the man who had so ably championed his
cause, and it was also natural that he should desire to attend the
funeral. But every effort was now being made to rouse anti-Semitic
passions, and Madame Zola dreaded lest the interment should be
disturbed by some horrible riot. She therefore begged M. Dreyfus
to refrain from attending, pointing out to him that the police
authorities, like herself, were of opinion that his presence would
give rise to great disturbances. M. Dreyfus was deeply affected by
the request; he regarded his attendance at the obsequies as a matter
of duty to his defender, and felt that everybody would accuse him of
cowardice should he hide himself away. At last Madame Zola's entreaties
prevailed, and he consented to do as she desired. The reports of this
interview which appeared in the newspapers checked the Nationalist
outcry, and on the eve of the funeral, when it had been ascertained
that the authorities had decided to take every possible precaution
to preserve order, it was felt that the decision with respect to M.
Dreyfus might be altered. He was therefore informed that he might
attend, and he gladly availed himself of the permission.
The obsequies were celebrated on Sunday, October 5, in the presence of
a vast concourse of people. The distance from the Rue de Bruxelles to
the place of interment, the Montmartre cemetery, was fortunately short,
and to keep the crowd in check the Place Moncey and the Boulevard de
Clichy were lined with police and municipal guards. Two squadrons of
cavalry were also kept in readiness, though virtually out of sight, one
assembling on the Place Vintimille, within a stone's-throw of the Rue
de Bruxelles. Access to that street was afforded only to the bearers
of special "laissez-passers," the numerous deputations assembling in
neighboring thoroughfares and joining the procession on the road.
In front of the house in the Rue de Bruxelles a detachment of the
Twenty-eighth Infantry of the Line was mustered, under the command of
Captain Olivier, an officer who had always believed in the innocence
of Dreyfus, and who after refusing to participate in a subscription
in honour of the forger Henry had fought a duel with one of the
latter's partisans. Three cars bearing a profusion of wreaths, many
extremely large,--splendid chrysanthemums of various hues being the
predominant flowers,--preceded the hearse, on which a few other wreaths
were placed. The drums beat and the soldiers presented arms when the
coffin was brought from the house, escorted by the pall-bearers and
followed by relatives and intimate friends. The pall-bearers were
MM. Ludovic Halévy and Abel Hermant, respectively Presidents of the
Société des Auteurs Dramatiques and the Société des Gens de Lettres,
MM. Charpentier and Fasquelle, Zola's publishers, M. Théodore Duret,
the historian, M. Alfred Bruneau, the composer, M. Octave Mirbeau,
the novelist and playwright, who had held Zola's power of attorney
during his exile in England, and M. Briat, the secretary of the
Labour Exchange. Immediately behind the hearse walked MM. Laborde and
Loiseau, relatives of the deceased, M. Fernand Desmoulin and Dr. Larat,
intimate friends, followed by M. Anatole France and a few others. Then
came Dr. Le Prince and Vizetelly, between whom, with his hands in
theirs, was little Jacques.... The representatives of the Government
followed. All the state departments were represented, and M. Chaumié,
Minister of Public Instruction, attended in person. Then, after a crowd
of celebrities in literature, science, art, politics, and law, came
innumerable deputations, many of them carrying wreaths and coronals,
a _cortège_ of fifty thousand persons, advancing amid the concourse
of spectators whom the military and police held back. The order was
perfect, all heads were uncovered, all voices stilled. As the hearse
passed on, the police saluted, the military presented arms. Again,
inside the cemetery, on either hand, all along the Avenue St. Charles,
and the Avenue de Montmorency, men of the Garde Républicaine stood at
attention and presented arms until the _cortège_ at last halted on an
open space, where a tribune had been erected for the funeral orations.
The first address was delivered by M. Chaumié, who began by speaking
of the terribly sudden death of the departed author, which had sent
a thrill of stupefaction through the world. From all quarters, both
at home and abroad, there had come messages of condolence, and the
Government of the Republic had made it a point of honour to be
represented at the obsequies. As others would speak of Zola's literary
genius, he (the Minister) would refer more particularly to the mission
which the deceased had set himself,--that of painting so striking a
picture of society, with its sufferings, its passions, and its vices,
that even those with the poorest sight would perceive that remedial
measures were imperatively needed. Whenever a cause had seemed to him
just he had espoused it without hesitation, braving all furious or
perfidious anger, the wildest insults, the most unjust hatred, the
most painful betrayals. And thus the humble and the wretched, feeling
that they had lost a great friend, were now mingling their gratitude
and their grief with the admiration of those who deplored the immense
loss which had befallen literature.
It was particularly from the literary standpoint that M. Abel Hermant
next addressed the throng, and he did so admirably, setting forth both
the characteristics and the limitations of the genius of Zola, who had
perhaps failed to show sufficient penetration when dealing with the
psychology of certain individual characters, but who had excelled in
depicting what was called "the crowd." He had been a master in the art
of assembling facts and personages: his crowds and his paintings of
nature were full of life. And he had never sought common popularity.
He had sacrificed nothing in order to curry favour with the multitude,
as was done by those who were eager for success at any price. Far from
flattering the masses, he had braved them, measured himself against
them fearlessly, and not only in connection with the terrible truths
enunciated in his novels had a clamour of anger and menace arisen
around him. At last, passing to his peroration,--a very appropriate
one,--M. Hermant said:
"At the close of one of his finest works[7] Zola describes a
ceremony such as this, one unattended by a great concourse
of people, but none the less painful for the few friends
pressing around the remains of an unappreciated artist. On
retiring from the graveside one of that artist's most notable
companions, one who resembles Zola like a brother,[8] speaks
a few words,--words of duty, comfort, and hope. Those words
are certainly the only farewell that Zola himself desires
from us, gentlemen, and I should feel I had failed in giving
expression to one of his last desires, did I leave this
spot without repeating those words to you. I certainly did
not think that the duty would come so soon, nor did I think
it would be for me to lend my humble voice to my master in
order to remind the multitude around me of the humble yet
magnificent device of his whole life: 'Let us work!'"
Only discreet marks of approval had attended M. Chaumié's speech.
Now, however, for the first time in the day's proceedings, a burst
of applause rang out. But M. Hermant had quitted the tribune, and in
his place appeared M. Anatole France, who came to bid Zola farewell
on behalf of all his friends. M. France had testified for him at the
Paris Assizes, he had supported the cause of truth and justice from the
outset, and moreover, now that Zola was gone, his own eminent position
in literature seemed all the greater. Thus, from every standpoint, it
was well that he should have been selected to say the last words. He
spoke as follows:
"Gentlemen,--In rendering to Émile Zola on behalf of his
friends the honours which are due to him I will say nothing
of my grief and theirs. Those who leave great names should
not be celebrated by lamentations, but by manly praise and a
sincere picturing of their life and work. The literary work
of Zola was immense.... When one saw that work arising, stone
by stone, its immensity caused surprise. Some admired, some
were astonished, some praised, some blamed it. Praise and
blame were bestowed with equal vehemence. The great writer
was occasionally assailed--I know it by my own example--with
reproaches which were sincere and yet unjust. Invectives and
apologies intermingled, and still and ever the work grew. Now
that one can contemplate the whole of its colossal structure
the spirit pervading it may also be discerned. It was a
spirit of kindliness. Zola had a kindly nature. The candour
and the simplicity of great souls were his. He pictured vice
with a rough and virtuous hand. His seeming pessimism, the
sombre humour cast over more than one of his pages, scarcely
conceals his real optimism, his stubborn faith in the advance
of human intelligence and knowledge. In his novels, those
social studies, he pursued with vigorous hatred an idle and
frivolous society, a base and baleful aristocracy; he fought
against the evil of the age,--the power of money. Though a
democrat, he never flattered the multitude, he strove to
show it what slavery proceeds from ignorance, what dangers
come from strong drink, which delivers it over, senseless
and defenceless, to every form of oppression, every kind of
wretchedness, every sort of shame. He fought against social
evils wherever he met them. They were the things he hated.
But in his last books he showed the whole of his love for
mankind. He strove to divine, to foresee, a better social
state. He desired that an ever increasing number of the
human race might be called to happiness in the world. He set
his hopes on the human mind, on science. He awaited from
new powers of machinery the progressive enfranchisement of
toiling humanity. A sincere realist, he was nevertheless an
ardent idealist. In grandeur his work can only be compared
to that of Tolstoï. At the two extremities of European
thought the lyre has raised two vast ideal cities. Both are
generous and pacific; but whereas Tolstoï's is the city of
resignation, Zola's is the city of work.
"While he was still young, Zola acquired fame. In quietude
and celebrity he was enjoying the fruits of his labour when
he suddenly wrested himself from all repose, from the work
which he loved, from the peaceful pleasures of his life.
Doubtless, in presence of a coffin only grave and serene
words should be spoken, calmness and harmony should be
preserved. But you are aware, gentlemen, that calmness is
found only in justice, that repose is found only in truth. I
speak not of philosophical truth, the subject of our endless
discussions, but of that moral truth which we can all detect
because it is relative, sensible, in conformity with our
nature, and so near to us that a child can touch it with the
hand. I will not fail, then, in my duty to justice which
orders me to praise that which is praiseworthy. I will not
hide the truth beneath cowardly silence. Why, indeed, should
we be silent? Are they, his slanderers, silent? I will say
only what is necessary before this bier, but I will say all
that is necessary."
At this point M. Anatole France paused, interrupted by repeated cries
of "Bravo!" Those who were gathered around the tribune had listened
in attentive silence to the earlier part of his discourse, but from
this point almost every sentence was punctuated by applause. The crowd
in the cemetery was so dense, stretching away to the very gates, that
thousands were unable to hear a word of the speech, and the "Bravos!"
which rang out from those who were more fortunately placed, naturally
excited the others, whom the police restrained with considerable
difficulty. Meantime M. Anatole France was continuing:
"Having to recall the struggle upon which Zola entered in the
cause of truth and justice, is it possible for me to preserve
silence respecting those who were bent on ruining the cause
of an innocent man, those who felt that if he should be
saved, they would be lost, and who with all the desperate
audacity of fear therefore strove to overwhelm him. How can
I remove them from your gaze when I have to show you Zola
rising, weak and unarmed, before them? Can I remain silent
about their lies? That would mean silence as to his heroic
rectitude. Can I remain silent about their crimes? That would
mean silence as to his virtues. Can I remain silent about
the outrages and slanders with which they pursued him? That
would mean silence as to his reward and honours. Can I remain
silent about their shame? That would mean silence as to his
glory. No! I will speak out.
"With the calmness and firmness which the spectacle of
death imparts, I will recall the dim days when egotism and
fear had their seats in the government councils. People
were beginning to know something of the iniquity, but it
was supported, defended, by such public and secret powers
that the most resolute hesitated. Those whose duty it was
to speak out remained silent. Some of the best, who feared
nothing personally, dreaded lest they should involve their
party in frightful dangers. Led astray by monstrous lies,
excited by odious declamation, the multitude of the people,
believing they were betrayed, grew exasperated.... The
darkness thickened. Sinister silence reigned. And it was then
that Zola addressed to the President of the Republic that
well-measured yet terrible letter which denounced falsity and
collusion.
"With what fury was he assailed by the criminals, by their
interested defenders, by their involuntary accomplices, by
coalitions of all the reactionary parties, by the deceived
multitude, you know that full well. You saw innocently minded
people joining in all simplicity the hideous _cortège_ of
hireling brawlers. You heard the howls of rage and the cries
of death whioh pursued him even into the Palais de Justice
during that long trial when he was judged in voluntary
ignorance, on false testimony, amid the clatter of swords. I
see here some of those who then stood beside him, who shared
his dangers. Let them say if ever more insult was hurled at a
just man! Let them say too with what firmness he endured it!
Let them say if his robust kindliness, his manly pity, ever
deserted him, if his constancy was for a moment shaken! In
those abominable days more than one good citizen despaired of
the salvation of the country, of the moral fortune of France.
Not only were the Republicans defending the present _régime_
terrified, but one of the most resolute enemies of the
_régime_, an irreconcilable Socialist, exclaimed bitterly,
'If present-day society be so corrupt as this, one will
not even be able to found a new society on its fragments!'
Indeed, justice, honour, common sense, all seemed lost.
"But all was saved. Zola had not merely revealed a judicial
error, he had denounced the conspiracy of all the forces
of violence and oppression leagued together to slay social
justice, Republicanism, freedom of thought in France. His
courageous words awoke the country. The consequences of his
deed are incalculable. They unroll themselves to-day in
power and majesty, they spread out indefinitely, they have
determined a movement of social equity which will not stop.
A new order of things is arising, based on a better sense of
justice, on a deeper knowledge of the rights of all.
"Gentlemen, there is only one country in the world where such
great things could have been accomplished. How beautiful
is the genius of our fatherland! How beautiful is that
soul of France which in past centuries taught equity to
Europe and the world! France is the land of ornate reason
and kindly thoughts, the land of equitable magistrates and
humane philosophers, the land of Turgot, of Montesquieu,
of Voltaire, of Malesherbes. And Zola deserved well of the
country by refusing to despair of justice in France. We must
not pity him for having endured and suffered. Let us rather
envy him! Set above the most prodigious heap of outrages ever
raised by folly, ignorance, and malice, his glory attains
to inaccessible heights. Let us envy him: he honoured his
country and the world by immense literary work and by a great
deed. Let us envy him: his destiny and his heart gave him the
grandest fate: in him at one moment was set the conscience of
mankind!"
[Illustration: M. Anatole France delivering his oration at the funeral
of Émile Zola]
The presence of death, all around one in that great cemetery, was quite
forgotten when M. Anatole France ceased speaking. Tumultuous applause
arose while relatives and friends were taking up their positions for
the march past of the thousands attending the obsequies. Several
ladies, Mesdames Laborde, Charpentier, Fasquelle, and others,[9]
had joined the family party, which stood in line on the verge of a
transverse avenue, immediately in front of the tomb of the famous
Baron Hirsch. For two hours the march past continued. M. Dreyfus,
accompanied by M. Gabriel Monod of the Institute of France, and M.
Lalance, a former Alsatian deputy, passed unrecognised by the great
majority. But Maître Labori and Colonel Picquart were acclaimed. A host
of distinguished men went by, and after them came all the deputations,
the town of Denain sending a pitman, a blacksmith, and a peasant, each
attired in the costume of his calling,--the first with his "Davy,"
the second with his leather apron, the third shouldering his scythe.
In a like spirit Freemasons wore their insignia, and again and again
came wreaths of flowers and "immortelles," silver palms and other
tributes, borne in procession as far as the provisional vault. Every
now and then, moreover, some deputation halted for a moment before the
hearse, and cries were raised of "Glory to Zola! Honour to the apostle
of justice!" Others called, "Germinal! Germinal!" in memory of Zola's
great book in which he had taken the part of the toilers against the
greed of the capitalists. For the rest, the crowd was most orderly, and
one was struck by the presence of an immense number of young men about
twenty years of age, the electors and artisans of the future, with whom
perhaps some day the great principles laid down by Zola may finally
triumph. Not until the vast concourse had gone onward, one hundred
and fifty persons passing every minute, did the hearse proceed to the
temporary vault to which Zola's remains were quietly committed. There
were a few disturbances outside the cemetery, where several parties of
anti-Semites had now assembled, but these were speedily quelled by the
police and the municipal guards. And thus the long ceremony, which had
lasted some four hours, came to an end.