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The Fasquelles went down to Norwood and brought M. Zola to Victoria. I was busy during the day preparing for the 'Westminster Gazette' an English epitome of the declaration which 'L'Aurore' was to publish on the morrow. That work accomplished, I met the others on their arrival in town.
This digression may seem to carry one away from Wimbledon, but I should mention that many of the points enunciated were touched upon by M. Zola for the first time, while we postponed further house-hunting to drive over Wimbledon Common. The historic mill and Caesar's Camp, and the picturesque meres were all viewed before the horses' heads were turned to the town once more.
Art is nature digested. Zola and Goncourt cannot, or will not understand that the artistic stomach must be allowed to do its work in its own mysterious fashion.
So these are the little places where they sleep? and here is where they dine, and here is a library a haphazard case of books in the saloon. It was in running her eyes over these that a young lady discovered that the novels of Zola were among the nautical works needed in the navigation of a ship of war.
But it must at least be said that in the lapses which occur in real life among the Roman priesthood, the circumstances are altogether different from those which M. Zola has selected for his story. The truth is that in 'La Faute de l'Abbe Mouret, betwixt lifelike glimpses of French rural life, the author transports us to a realm of poesy and imagination.
M. Emile Zola had not written his 'Assommoir. Count Bismarck had only just brought to a successful termination the first part of his trimachy; Sadowa and Sedan were yet unfought. Garibaldi had won Naples, and Cavour had said, "If we did for ourselves what we are doing for Italy, we should be great scoundrels;" but Garibaldi had not yet failed at Mentana, nor had Austria ceded Venice.
And the Frenchmen, Renan, Zola, and the others who have followed, are equally deterministic, but viewing the human body as a highly organized machine with which we may amuse ourselves by registering its sensations. These literatures are true in so far as they reflect the characteristics of the nations from which they spring.
The iron entrance gate was broken, and he was able to enter the garden and peep through the ground-floor windows. All spoke of decay and abandonment; and when, through my daughter, M. Zola began to make inquiries about the place, he was told a fantastic tragic story.
Zola thereupon got up, opened a drawer, and showed me piles of such letters. Among these I read one from a priest, who seemed convinced that before long Zola would be a convert. I asked him what he had seen at Lourdes. "Nothing that I did not expect, considering that before going there I had had long conversations with eminent specialists in nervous diseases.
Zola was astonished at reaching his destination with such despatch, and suddenly became conscious of the cabby's real motive in expostulating with him. However, he ascended the steps, entered the hotel, produced one of the few hundred-franc notes which his purse contained, and asked first for change and afterwards for a bedroom.
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