XII
THE FINAL RESTING-PLACE
At last the time arrived when it became necessary to remove M. Zola from his country quarters, and by his desire Wareham and I then looked around us for a suitable suburban hotel. The autumn was now far spent and M. Zola felt confident that he would be back in Paris by the end of the year. Had he foreseen that his exile would prove so long, he would certainly have sent for a couple of his French servants, and have set up a quiet establishment in some other furnished house. But for another month or two he considered that hotel accommodation would well suffice.
The place selected for him by Wareham and myself was the Queen's Hotel, Upper Norwood, and there he remained from late in the autumn of 1898 until his departure from England.
A glance at the Queen's Hotel shows one that it is composed of what were once separate houses, now connected together by buildings of one storey only. Each of these houses, or, as one may perhaps call them, pavilions, has a separate entrance and staircase; and the advantage of this, to one circumstanced as M. Zola was, must be obvious. A person lodging in one of the pavilions can come and go freely. There is no vast hall to cross, with a dozen servants standing around, ready to scrutinise you as you pass in and out. You have your suite of rooms in one or another pavilion, you take your meals there in your own dining-room, and you can shut yourself off, as it were, from the greater part of the establishment and enjoy privacy and quiet. This, no doubt, is the reason why so many well-to-do people, who dislike the stir and bustle of the ordinary hotel, patronise the hostelry at Upper Norwood.
There at one time—when consulting Sir Morell Mackenzie, I believe—stayed the unfortunate Emperor Frederick; and now it may add to its list of patrons the most famous Frenchman of his day.
It seemed to Wareham and me that the Queen's Hotel would, under the circumstances, prove an ideal retreat for M. Zola. Moreover, Upper Norwood stands on very high ground, and it was probable therefore that he would largely escape the winter fogs. Of course the Crystal Palace was comparatively near, but it was not very largely patronised in the winter, and, besides, if M. Zola wished to escape a crowd, he had only to take his walks in another direction.
The Queen's Hotel stands back from the road; but, in the first instance, as a precautionary measure it was thought best to select for M. Zola a suite of rooms overlooking the extensive gardens. As time went on, however, the trees lost their last leaves, the vista from these rooms, charming enough in summer, became very cheerless. So the master's quarters were shifted to a larger suite on the ground floor, with the windows of the two communicating sitting-rooms overlooking both the road and the garden.
The two sitting-rooms were an advantage, particularly during the time that Mme. Zola stayed at the Queen's Hotel (for she joined her husband on and off), as he could devote one of them entirely to his work. But when Mme. Zola finally left England (in a very ailing state, after a terrible cold had kept her within doors for some weeks) her husband moved once again, and installed himself on the second floor, where the rooms were smaller and therefore easier to warm. It was then mid-winter.
The various rooms M. Zola occupied and in which he spent from seven to eight months—that is by far the greater portion of his exile—were all part of the same house or pavilion, this being the last of the pavilions constituting the hotel proper. Adjoining is a lower building, belonging to the same proprietary as the hotel, but, in a measure, distinct from it. Most of M. Zola's tenancy was spent in the topmost rooms. After bringing the master up from the country, I took him one morning down to Norwood, and he cordially approved of the arrangements which had been made for him. There was only one thing amiss. Wareham and I had been promised that he should have a waiter speaking French to attend on him; and the one provided knew perhaps just a few words of that language. However, he was very intelligent, very discreet, very willing to oblige—a pattern waiter of the good old English school. And when I had explained to him exactly what would be required, he took due note of everything, and for many months the arrangements that were made worked virtually without a hitch.