With Zola in England - Ernest Alfred Vizetelly
WITH ZOLA IN ENGLAND
A STORY OF EXILE
TOLD BY
ERNEST ALFRED VIZETELLY
TO
VIOLETTE AND TO VICTOR
TO DORA AND TO BOTH MARIES
DEAR WIFE AND ROMPING DAUGHTER
I LOVINGLY INSCRIBE
THIS LITTLE BOOK
He begged for Light! . . Lo, Darkness fell,
And round him cast its stifling pall!
In vain he clamoured! Ev'ry Hell
Poured forth its fumes to drown his call.
He cried for Truth! . . Lo, Falsehood came,
In robes of Impudence array'd,
Polluting Patriotism's name,
Degrading Honour to a trade.
He asked for Justice! . . Lo, between
Him and the judgment-seat there rose
The Sword of Menace, ever keen
To smite the braggart War-Wolf's foes!
Light, Truth, and Justice all denied,
He struggled on 'mid threat and blow--
A brave Voice battling by his side--
Till Error's minions struck him low.
Yet is his faith not dead, nor mine:
O'er deepest gloom, o'er worst distress,
Ever the mighty Sun doth shine
Aglow with Truth and Righteousness.
The blackest clouds are rent at last;
And the divine resistless flame
Through all, some morn, its blaze shall cast,
The Wrong disclose, the Right proclaim!
E. A. V.
February 23, 1898.
[Printed in 'The Star' on the morrow of M. Zola's condemnation in Paris]
PREFACE
All that I claim for this little book, reprinted from the columns of 'The
Evening News,' is the quality of frankness. I do not desire to check or
disarm criticism, but I have a right to point out that I have performed
my work rapidly and have largely subordinated certain literary
considerations to a desire to write my story naturally and simply, in
much the same way as I should have told it in conversation with a friend.
Very rarely, I think, have I departed from this rule.
The book supplies an accurate account of Emile Zola's exile in this
country; but some matters I have treated briefly because he himself
proposes to give the world--probably in diary form--some impressions of
his sojourn in England with a record of his feelings day by day whilst
the great campaign in favour of the unfortunate Alfred Dreyfus was in
progress.
First, however, M. Zola intends to collect in a volume all his published
declarations, articles and letters on the Affair. Secondly, he will
recount in another volume his trials at Paris and Versailles; and only in
a third volume will he be able to deal with his English experiences. The
last work can scarcely be ready before the end of 1900, and possibly it
may not appear until the following year. And this is one of the reasons
which have induced me to offer to all who are interested in the great
French writer this present narrative of mine. Should the master's
promised record duly appear, my own will sink into oblivion; but if, for
one or another reason, M. Zola is prevented from carrying out his plans,
here, then, will at least be found some account of one of the most
curious passages in his life. And then, perchance, my narrative may
attain to the rank of _memoire pour servir_.
I have said that I claim for my book the quality of frankness. In this
connection I may point out that I have made in it a full confession of
certain delinquencies which were forced on me by circumstances. I trust,
however, that my brother-journalists will forgive me if I occasionally
led them astray with regard to M. Zola's presence in England; for I did
so purely and simply in the interests of the illustrious friend who had
placed himself in my hands.
That M. Zola should have applied to me directly he arrived in London will
surprise none of those who are aware of the confidence he has for several
years reposed in me. A newspaper referring to our connection recently
called the great novelist 'my employer.' But there has never been any
question of employer or employed between Mr. Zola and me. I should
certainly never think of accepting remuneration for any little service I
might have been able to render him; nor would he dream of hurting my
feelings by offering it. No. The simple truth is that for some years now
I have translated M. Zola's novels into English, and that I have taken my
share of the proceeds of the translations. For the rest our intercourse
has been purely and simply that of friends.
It is because, I believe, I know and understand Emile Zola so well, that
I never once lost confidence in him throughout the events which led to
his exile in England. That exile, curiously enough, I foreshadowed in a
letter addressed to the 'Star' some months before it actually began.
When, however, one has been intimate with the French for thirty years or
so it is not, to my thinking, so very difficult to tell what is likely to
happen in a given French crisis. The unexpected has to be reckoned with,
of course; and much depends on ability to estimate the form which the
unexpected may take. Here experience, familiarity with details of
contemporary French history, and personal knowledge of the men concerned
in the issue, become indispensable.
On January 16, 1898, three days after M. Zola's famous 'J'accuse' letter
appeared in 'L'Aurore,' and two days before the French Government
instructed the Public Prosecutor to proceed against its author, I wrote
to the 'Westminster Gazette' a long letter dealing with M. Zola's
position. In this letter, which appeared in the issue of the 19th, I
began by establishing a comparison between Zola and Voltaire, whose
action with regard to the memory of Jean Calas I briefly epitomised.
Curiously enough at that moment M. Zola, as I afterwards learnt, was
telling the Paris correspondent of the 'Daily Chronicle' that the
opposition offered to his advocacy of the cause of Alfred Dreyfus was
identical with that encountered by Voltaire in his championship of Calas.
This was a curious little coincidence, for I wrote my letter without
having any communication with M. Zola respecting it. It contained some
passes which I here venture to quote. In a book dealing with the great
novelist these passages may not be out of place, as they serve to
illustrate his general attitude towards the Dreyfus case.
'Truth,' I wrote, 'has been the one passion of Emile Zola's life.* "May
all be revealed so that all may be cured" has been his sole motto in
dealing with social problems. "Light, more light!"--the last words gasped
by Goethe on his death-bed--has ever been his cry. Holding the views he
holds, he could not do otherwise than come forward at this crisis in
French history as the champion of truth and justice. Silence on his part
would have been a denial of all his principles, all his past life. . . .
Against him are marshalled all the Powers of Darkness, all the energy of
those who prefer concealment to light, all the enmity of the military
hierarchy which has never forgotten "La Debacle," all the hatred of the
Roman hierarchy which will never forgive "Lourdes" and "Rome." And the
fetish of Patriotism is brandished hither and thither, rallying even
free-thinkers to the cause of concealment, while each and every appeal
for light and truth is met by the clamorous cry: "Down with the dirty
Jews!"
* He himself wrote these very words seventeen months later in
his article 'Justice,' published in Paris on his return from
exile.
'For even as Jean Calas was guilty of being a Protestant so is Alfred
Dreyfus guilty of being a Jew, and at the present hour unhappily there
are millions of French people who can no more believe in a Jew's
innocence than their forerunners could believe a Protestant to be
guiltless. Zola, for his part, is no Jew, nor can he even be called a
friend of the Jews--in several of his books he has attacked them somewhat
violently for certain tendencies shown by some of their number--but most
assuredly does he regard them as fellow-men and not as loathsome animals.
In the same way Voltaire wrote pungent pages against the narrow practices
of Calvinism and yet espoused the causes of Calas and Sirven, even as
Zola has espoused that of Dreyfus. The only remaining question is whether
Zola will prove as successful as his famous forerunner. [Nearly the whole
of the European press was at that stage expressing doubt on this point.]
In this connection I may say that I regard Zola as a man of very calm,
methodical, judicial mind. He is no ranter, no lover of words for words'
sake, no fiery enthusiast. Each of his books is a most laborious,
painstaking piece of work. If he ever brings forward a theory he bases it
on a mountain of evidence, and he invariably subordinates his feeling to
his reason. I therefore venture to say that if he has come forward so
prominently in this Dreyfus case it is not because he _feels_ that wrong
has been done, but because he is absolutely _convinced_ of it. Doubtless
many of the expressions in his recent letter to President Faure have come
from his heart, but they were in the first place dictated by his reason.
It is not for me here and at the present hour to speak of proofs, however
great may be public curiosity; but most certainly Zola has not taken up
this case without what he considers to be abundant proof. I do not say he
will be able to prove each and every item of his great indictment, but
when you wish to bring everything to light it is often necessary to cast
your net so wide that none shall escape it, none linger in concealment
with their actions unexplained. And I take it that whatever be the
verdict of Zola's countrymen, whether or not Alfred Dreyfus be again and
this time absolutely proved guilty . . . Zola himself will have done good
work in striving to bring the whole truth to light so that it shall be as
evident to one and all as the very sun itself. And this, when all is
said, is really Zola's one great object in this terrible business.
'I may add that he is risking far more than his great predecessor risked
in favour of Calas. Voltaire pleaded from his retirement on the Swiss
frontier; Zola pleads the cause he has adopted on the very spot, on the
very scene of all the agitation. Anonymous assassins threaten him with
death in letters and postcards. Fanatical Jew-baiters march through the
streets anxious for an opportunity to wreck his house and murder not only
himself but his wife also in the sacred name of Patriotism.* Should their
menaces be escaped there remains the Assize Court with a jury that will
need to be brave indeed if it is to resist all the pressure of a
deliberately organised "terror." At the end possibly lie imprisonment,
fine, disgrace, ruin. How jubilantly some are already rubbing their hands
in the bishops' palaces, the parsonages, the sacristies of France! Ah! no
stone will be kept unturned to secure a conviction! But Emile Zola does
not waver. It may be the truth, the whole truth will only be known to the
world in some distant century; but he, anxious to hasten its advent and
prevent the irreparable, courageously stakes all that he has, person,
position, fame, affections, and friendships. . . . And this he does for
no personal object whatsoever, but in the sole cause of truth and
justice, ever repeating the cry common to both Goethe and himself:
"Light, more light!"
* There is not the slightest doubt that M. Zola incurred the
greatest personal danger between January and April 1898.
M. Ranc, the old and tried Republican, who knows what danger
is, has lately pointed this out in forcible terms in the
Paris journal _Le Matin_.
'Ah! to all the true hearts that have followed and loved him through
years of mingled blame and praise, hard-earned victory and unmerited
reviling, he is at this hour dearer even than he was before; for he has
now put the seal upon his principles, and to the force of precept has
added that of the most courageous personal example.'
This then is what I wrote immediately after the publication of Zola's
letter 'J'accuse,' basing myself simply on my knowledge of the master's
character, of the passions let loose in France, and of a few matters
connected with the Dreyfus case, then kept secret but now public
property. And had I to write anything of the kind at the present time, I
should, I think, have but few words to alter beyond substituting the past
for the present or future tense. In one respect I was mistaken. I did not
imagine the truth to be quite so near at hand. Since January 1898,
however, nine-tenths of it have been revealed and the rest must now soon
follow. And I hold, as all hold who know the inner workings of l'Affaire
Dreyfus, that M. Zola's exile, like his letter to President Faure and his
repeated trials for libel, has in a large degree contributed to this
victory of truth. For by going into voluntary banishment, he kept not
only his own but also Dreyfus's case 'open,' and thus helped to foil the
last desperate attempts that were being made to prevent the truth from
being discovered.
I should add that in the following pages I deal very slightly with
l'Affaire Dreyfus, on which so many books have already been written.
Indeed, as a rule, I have only touched on those incidents which had any
marked influence on M. Zola during his sojourn in this country.
E. A. V.
MERTON, SURREY.
June 1899.
WITH ZOLA IN ENGLAND
I
ZOLA LEAVES FRANCE
From the latter part of the month of July 1898, down to the end of the
ensuing August, a frequent heading to newspaper telegrams and paragraphs
was the query, 'Where is Zola?' The wildest suppositions concerning the
eminent novelist's whereabouts were indulged in and the most
contradictory reports were circulated. It was on July 18 that M. Zola was
tried by default at Versailles and sentenced to twelve months'
imprisonment on the charge of having libelled, in his letter 'J'accuse,'
the military tribunal which had acquitted Commandant Esterhazy. On the
evening of the 19th his disappearance was signalled by various telegrams
from Paris. Most of these asserted that he had gone on a tour to Norway,
a course which the 'Daily News' correspondent declared to be very
sensible on M. Zola's part, given the tropical heat which then prevailed
in the French metropolis.
On the 20th, however, the telegrams gave out that Zola had left Paris on
the previous evening by the 8.35 express for Lucerne, being accompanied
by his wife and her maid. Later, the same day, appeared a graphic account
of how he had dined at a Paris restaurant and thence despatched a waiter
to the Eastern Railway Station to procure tickets for himself and a
friend. The very numbers of these tickets were given!
Yet a further telegram asserted that he had been recognised by a
fellow-passenger, had left the train before reaching the Swiss frontier,
and had gaily continued his journey on a bicycle. But another newspaper
correspondent treated this account as pure invention, and pledged his
word that M. Zola had gone to Holland by way of Brussels.
On July 21 his destination was again alleged to be Norway; but--so
desperate were the efforts made to reconcile all the conflicting
rumours--his route was said to lie through Switzerland, Luxemburg, and
the Netherlands. His wife (so the papers reported) was with him, and they
were bicycling up hill and down dale through the aforenamed countries.
Two days later it was declared that he had actually been recognised at a
cafe in Brussels whence he had fled in consequence of the threats of the
customers, who were enraged 'by the presence of such a traitor.' Then he
repaired to Antwerp, where he was also recognised, and where he promptly
embarked on board a steamer bound for Christiania.
However, on July 25, the 'Petit Journal' authoritatively asserted that
all the reports hitherto published were erroneous. M. Zola, said the
Paris print, was simply hiding in the suburbs of Paris, hoping to reach
Le Havre by night and thence sail for Southampton. But fortunately the
Prefecture of Police was acquainted with his plans, and at the first
movement he might make he would be arrested.
That same morning our own 'Daily Chronicle' announced M. Zola's presence
at a London hotel, and on the following day the 'Morning Leader' was in a
position to state that the hotel in question was the Grosvenor. Both
'Chronicle' and 'Leader' were right; but as I had received pressing
instructions to contradict all rumours of M. Zola's arrival in London, I
did so in this instance through the medium of the Press Association. I
here frankly acknowledge that I thus deceived both the Press and the
public. I acted in this way, however, for weighty reasons, which will
hereafter appear.
At this point I would simply say that M. Zola's interests were, in my
estimation, of far more consequence than the claims of public curiosity,
however well meant and even flattering its nature.
One effect of the Press Association's contradiction was to revive the
Norway and Switzerland stories. Several papers, while adhering to the
statement that M. Zola had been in London, added that he had since left
England with his wife, and that Hamburg was their immediate destination.
And thus the game went merrily on. M. Zola's arrival at Hamburg was duly
reported. Then he sailed on the 'Capella' for Bergen, where his advent
was chronicled by Reuter. Next he was setting out for Trondhiem, whence
in a few days he would join his friend Bjornstjerne Bjornson, the
novelist, at the latter's estate of Aulestad in the Gudbrandsdalen.
Bjornson, as it happened, was then at Munich, in Germany, but this
circumstance did not weigh for a moment with the newspapers. The Norway
story was so generally accepted that a report was spread to the effect
that M. Zola had solicited an audience of the Emperor William, who was in
Norway about that time, and that the Kaiser had peremptorily refused to
see him, so great was the Imperial desire to do nothing of a nature to
give umbrage to France.
As I have already mentioned, the only true reports (so far as London was
concerned) were those of two English newspapers, but even they were
inaccurate in several matters of detail. For instance, the lady currently
spoken of as Mme. Zola was my own wife, who, it so happens, is a
Frenchwoman. At a later stage the 'Daily Mail' hit the nail on the head
by signalling M. Zola's presence at the Oatlands Park Hotel; but so many
reports having already proved erroneous, the 'Mail' was by no means
certain of the accuracy of its information, and the dubitative form in
which its statement was couched prevented the matter from going further.
At last a period of comparative quiet set in, and though gentlemen of the
Press were still anxious to extract information from me, nothing further
appeared in print as to M. Zola's whereabouts until the 'Times' Paris
correspondent, M. de Blowitz, contributed to his paper, early in the
present year, a most detailed and amusing account of M. Zola's flight
from France and his subsequent movements in exile. In this narrative one
found Mme. Zola equipping her husband with a nightgown for his perilous
journey abroad, and secreting bank notes in the lining of his garments.
Then, carrying a slip of paper in his hand, the novelist had been passed
on through London from policeman to policeman, until he took train to a
village in Warwickshire, where the little daughter of an innkeeper had
recognised him from seeing his portrait in one of the illustrated
newspapers.
There was something also about his acquaintance with the vicar of the
locality and a variety of other particulars, all of which helped to make
up as pretty a romance as the 'Times' readers had been favoured with for
many a day. But excellent as was M. de Blowitz's narrative from the
romantic standpoint his information was sadly inaccurate. Of his _bona
fides_ there can be no doubt, but some of M. Zola's friends are rather
partial to a little harmless joking, and it is evident that a trap was
laid for the shrewd correspondent of the 'Times,' and that he, in an
unguarded moment, fell into it.
On the incidents which immediately preceded M. Zola's departure from
France I shall here be brief; these incidents are only known to me by
statements I have had from M. and Mme. Zola themselves. But the rest is
well within my personal knowledge, as one of the first things which M.
Zola did on arriving in England was to communicate with me and in certain
respects place himself in my hands.
This, then, is a plain unvarnished narrative--firstly, of the steps that
I took in the matter, in conjunction with a friend, who is by profession
a solicitor; and, secondly, of the principal incidents which marked M.
Zola's views on some matters of interest, as imparted by him to me at
various times. But, ultimately, M. Zola will himself pen his own private
impressions, and on these I shall not trespass. It is because, according
to his own statements to me, his book on his English impressions (should
he write it) could not possibly appear for another twelve months, that I
have put these notes together.
The real circumstances, then, of M. Zola's departure from France are
these: On July 18, the day fixed for his second trial at Versailles, he
left Paris in a livery-stable brougham hired for the occasion at a cost
of fifty francs. His companion was his _fidus Achates_, M. Fernand
Desmoulin, the painter, who had already acted as his bodyguard at the
time of the great trial in Paris. Versailles was reached in due course,
and the judicial proceedings began under circumstances which have been
chronicled too often to need mention here. When M. Zola had retired from
the court, allowing judgment to go against him by default, he was joined
by Maitre Labori, his counsel, and the pair of them returned to Paris in
the vehicle which had brought M. Zola from the city in the morning. M.
Desmoulin found a seat in another carriage.
The brougham conveying Messrs. Zola and Labori was driven to the
residence of M. Georges Charpentier, the eminent publisher, in the Avenue
du Bois de Boulogne, and there they were presently joined by M. Georges
Clemenceau, Mme. Zola, and a few others. It was then that the necessity
of leaving France was pressed upon M. Zola, who, though he found the
proposal little to his liking, eventually signified his acquiescence.
The points urged in favour of his departure abroad were as follows: He
must do his utmost to avoid personal service of the judgment given
against him by default, as the Government was anxious to cast him into
prison and thus stifle his voice. If such service were effected the law
would only allow him a few days in which to apply for a new trial, and as
he could not make default a second time, and could not hope at that stage
for fresh and decisive evidence in his favour, or for a change of tactics
on the part of the judges, this would mean the absolute and irrevocable
loss of his case.
On the other hand, by avoiding personal service of the judgment he would
retain the right to claim a new trial at any moment he might find
convenient; and thus not only could he prevent his own case from being
closed against him and becoming a _chose jugee_, but he would contribute
powerfully towards keeping the whole Dreyfus affair open, pending
revelations which even then were foreseen. And, naturally, England which
so freely gives asylum to all political offenders, was chosen as his
proper place of exile.
The amusing story of the nightgown tucked under his arm and the bank
notes sewn up in his coat is, of course, pure invention. A few toilet
articles were pressed upon him, and his wife emptied her own purse into
his own. That was all. Then he set out for the Northern Railway Station,
where he caught the express leaving for Calais at 9 P.M. Fortunately
enough he secured a first-class compartment which had no other occupant.
M. Clemenceau had previously suggested to him that on his arrival at
London he might well put up at the Grosvenor Hotel, and it is quite
possible that the same gentleman handed him--as stated in the 'Times'
narrative--a slip of paper bearing the name of that noted hostelry. But,
at all events, this paper was never used by M. Zola. He has an excellent
memory, and when he reached Victoria Station at forty minutes past five
o'clock on the morning of July 19, the name of the hotel where he had
arranged to fix his quarters for a few days came readily enough to his
lips.
There was, however, one thing that he did not know, and that was the
close proximity of this hotel to the railway station. So, having secured
a hansom, he briefly told the Jehu to drive him to the Grosvenor. At
this, cabby looked down from his perch in sheer astonishment. Then,
doubtless, in a considerate and honest spirit--for there are still some
considerate and honest cabbies in London--he tried to explain matters. At
all events he spoke at length. But M. Zola failed to understand him.