The daily morning journal and courier. [volume] (New Haven, Conn.) 1894-1907, 1902-10-20

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dred that ! am right. am willing 10
leave You the hundredth one"
Probably this Unborn gift for unravel-
ing mystery was one Of the reasons
why Zola plunged headlOng into the
Dreyfus struggle. But there was an
other and better motive. lola enjoyed
helping others. His rather blunt and
stern exterior covered a quick-beating
heart. I well remember how he came
to me last winter TO see If could not
find market in America for the liter
airy wares of a distinguished musical
critic who had lost fine position on
1.-THE Paris press, a victim Of the deadly
Dreyfus affair. What you do for him
you do for me-" he said; and several
months afterward he had not forgotten
his friend in need. for he thanked me
warmly for the slight help 1 had been
able to give.
ZOla's custom of answering all the
many letters he received should be
noted, for his hand was exceedingly
weary after the completion of the reg
ular morning task on the novel which
happened then to be on the stocks. and
he would not employ a secretary. I
never received scrap or writing from
him that was not in his own chirogra-
ply. He could not be induced to utilize
typewriter or stenographer. If letter
could be disposed Of in a few words,
these words were sent on his visiting
card, though he did not hesitate to
devote a complete letter to a subject
that called for fuller treatment. He
shared the French aversion to post
cards. He never sent me one. and
| never heard of his using them. His
| post card was his visiting card.
When lola reached the age when
men often begin to get stout he took
fright at possible obesity and, with the
vigor he put into everything he under
took, began relentless opposition to
the tendency. Physicians were consult
ed. medical books read and not few
nostrums examined If not actually
tried. Finally he settled down to this
simple preventive, never drinking while
eating Whether this regime is eff
| ficacious or not / do not pretend to say,
but that lola did not become stout was
patent. Though solid, well-built, big
boned and sufficiently fleshy, he kept
himself at the right point, and I often
| asked myself if the over-thinness and
too ashen color of the face was not due
to tampering with the stomach to pre-
vent embonpoint. However this may
be could not help feeling, when 7 read
| his terrible end. that he might have
resisted successfully, as did his unhap-
py wife, that slow smothering if he had
not impaired a naturally vigorous con-
stituion by his sometimes excessive
fight against corpulency.
| Much more sensible was Zola's re-
| course to the bicycle to counterfeit the
evil results Of sedentariness which a
busy author cannot escape. He also
found in 1.-The wheel a rest from men,
| tai strain. A very striking example of
this came under my eye. In the midst
of that famous trial, when the cause of
justice was so outraged in his person
and when his life was seriously in dan
ger on more than one occasion, I was
slowly ascending the long Suresnes HILL
which all cyclists in the environs of
Paris know so WELL when I passed a
man who was pushing his machine"
| After had got by it occurred to me
that this was probably lola, whom I
| had never seen before in bicycle cos
tune. But as / had purposely kept
away from him during the trial, when
! so many journalists were nearly poster
ing the life out of him, and as I took it
for granted that if he ventured out
alone at such time-it was an off day
in the fiery trial-he wanted to be
alone. did not even look back to see
| If he was indeed the author of
"J'accuse." But the next day learned
that it was Zola whom had overtaken
and that though his friends were wor-
ried he himself could not resist this
communion with himself and his
Wheel" as he expressed it, at the mo-
ment when he stood almost alone in
France, and when he was wont to say
in French, what is better expressed in
English in that pat phrase "the more
see of men the more like dogs"
! And this last word reminds me of
| those lively little animals, the pets Of
husband and wife, who also nearly per-
ished on that baneful night. They al
ways greeted you when you called on
the novelist, and would go jumping and
barking about the room, sometimes
1
drowning the voice, strong though it
was, of their master A shake of his
finger sufficed to calm them. But some
times, when carried away by what he
was narrating. zola's voice and ges-
! lures seemed to call for further empha-
sis or appreciation, these intelligent
creatures would become agitated again,
spring to their feet and close the mas
ter's statement with a vigorous series
of barks, as if they were well-trained
claque. Again, when you left the room
and descended the carpeted staircase,
| lined on either side by innumerable
knickknacks, the dogs were once more
at and on your heels, and when the big,
stout door slammed behind you you
could hear them go scampering and
barking up the stairs again. Those
who knew lola the man, rather than
lola the writer. were as faithful to him
as these dogs, but it may be fairly ask
ed if after his experience of life Emile
lola did not count more on the con-
stancy of his terriers than on the con-
| stancy of his fellow Theodore