Émile Zola.
Literary master Émile Zola (1840–1902), who spearheaded the development of theatrical naturalism, failed his baccalauréat examination not once, but twice! That goes to show you: Even if you may not be a good student, you can still be successful in literature…or in life. Many famous authors of the nineteenth century lived on almost nothing, as their works were not recognized when they were alive. Zola actually made quite a bite of money as a writer during his lifetime.
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For Joseph, the countdown started a month after the Ville de Saint-Nazaire tragedy.
At dinner one evening, his mother announced that she had saved enough money for his passage to France, where he would attend school. His future was set. It was just a matter of time, Joseph knew, and the excitement kept him awake that night.
And for good reason: Many of his friends dreamed of traveling across the ocean to visit—and even live in—France. It had been his own secret wish, even though he never talked about it. From a distance, he’d succumbed to the charms of that faraway land, as the adults often praised its beauty and its culture. The France they talked about seemed different in its sophistication from the cruel one their ancestors had fought against during the independence wars, and whenever Joseph met a “Parisian” in Le Cap, such as his uncle, Nemours Auguste, he understood how one could be fulfilled by a stay in France. In fact, Nemours Auguste was one of the most noteworthy figures of the time. Historian Marc Péan reports that, in many respects, Auguste held a groundbreaking position. A physician who’d graduated from the Medical School of Paris, he was a very good practitioner who was praised everywhere for his know-how and his remarkable cures.
For a long while, Joseph dreamed good dreams of Europe. However, he acquired mixed emotions when reality set in and his departure date was set. He felt both joy and sadness at the idea of leaving his family, his friends, and his city. Was it worth it? Could he not succeed in life if he stayed in his country? For the first time in his young life, he questioned his mother’s choice for him. But since her decision was made, Joseph wondered if other parents would consider a group departure. It would be so much better if other children his age were to embark on the journey with him. Once in France, they could then help and encourage each other.
The idea was appealing, but there was one problem: 241 Le Cap children were born like Joseph in 1886. How many of these parents could afford such a trip? Most students ended their education after secondary school, including Luc Grimard. The orphan did not allow his life circumstances to stop him from succeeding, however. He later established himself as one of the greatest writers of his generation.
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Since the sinking of the Ville de Saint-Nazaire, Joseph Laroche was rattled. Despite himself, he had become obsessed with the destiny of broken ships, as if a small lamp was lit in his head to shine light on the submerged wrecks and pull them from oblivion by bringing them back to the surface. He had no doubt that, even before the Ville de Saint-Nazaire, he had gotten wind of at least one other maritime catastrophe; probably due to a lack of understanding, he had not really paid attention to then. Today, everything was different. Today, he was well aware of what could happen to one at sea. He couldn’t think of anything else. Or picture anything else. Or hear anything else. Even in Joseph’s history class, the topic of the sinking disaster haunted him. The teacher conducted a lesson about Christopher Columbus, a white seafarer who had arrived in Haiti in December 1492, before colonization, with three large caravels. When one of these ships, the Santa Maria,53 sank off the coast of Le Cap, the first-contacted Native Americans aided the crewmen; together, they built a fort with the ship’s debris. When he left the island, Christopher Columbus left behind forty-something comrades. The latter committed so many abuses that their fed-up hosts slaughtered them.
Christopher Columbus (1451-1506).
The Landing of Columbus. Painting by Currier & Ives, 1846.
Santa Maria.
Christopher Columbus’s caravels. The Santa Maria sank off the coast of Le Cap. According to Jonny Wikes, a contributor to the website History Revealed, “it is widely believed that the crews of the Santa Maria, Nina, and Pinta were mostly made up of criminals. Although it is true that a royal decree in Spain offered amnesty to any criminals who joined the voyage, only four men were actually convicts.”
Recreation of an article from the Sacramento Daily Union, Volume 93, Number 29, 23 March 1897
A few months later, again in history class, Joseph heard about other sinking ships. He learned that, during the slave trade, at least ten ships disappeared off the shores of Le Cap or in Haitian waters, causing the death of hundreds of slaves chained at the bottom of the hold. The last known sinking had happened on August 27, 1775, when the Saint-Guillaume54 was coming back from Guinea with 660 slaves on board. Following a navigational error, the ship hit a reef. It was submerged by raging waters, Joseph was told, and the young man began to feel dread about his upcoming trip. These historic facts horrified him. How could he get peacefully onto a boat, knowing that it might go underwater? Land offered safety. Was it really reasonable to go to sea and put oneself in danger? Shaking off the fear, Joseph reassured himself with the thought that, after all, with the great advancements of technology, sailing was now safer. Even God could not sink today’s liners. Anyway, why would He do such a thing? The Laroches were good Christians, from grandfather to grandson.
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Five months after the sinking of the Ville de Saint-Nazaire, Euzélie Laroche was smiling again: Joseph’s doubts had subsided. He told himself that there was no point in being scared so soon of a trip that would not happen for years. He was only eleven years old; college was not around the corner. He might as well have fun. “What must happen will happen,” he thought. “It’s up to fate.”
But often, it is during those times of boyish insouciance, when life quietly goes on, that the unexpected suddenly happens. The bad news comes: Tragedy has struck. And what tragedy in this case! On August 4, 1897, a little after eleven thirty in the morning, the news spread like wildfire. It traveled from house to house, from neighborhood to neighborhood, across the city: Bertrand Laroche55 was dead. He’d just ended his own life. When she learned of her brother’s suicide, Euzélie was crushed. She had not seen it coming. Pain and consternation gripped her heart. She didn’t understand.
How can one die at thirty-two years old? Of course, her brother’s business as a speculator came with some difficulties—the falling price of the coffee was affecting everyone, including Euzélie—but… suicide? She wondered what had really driven him to such an irreparable act. Maybe a woman had broken his heart? “That’s still no reason to kill oneself,” Joseph’s mother said with sadness, recalling another suicide that had shaken the family seven years earlier. Her nephew, poet Arnold Laroche,56 had killed himself in Paris. When Euzélie had learned about Arnold, he’d already been buried in the family vault at the Père-Lachaise cemetery for several months, which had added to her distress.
During those years, mail services were by ship and as slow as one can imagine. There were no telephones in Le Cap. The telephone company only became operational in 1893, shortly after the installation of the first street lights.
Joseph was shocked by the sudden death of Uncle Bertrand, who had taught him how to swim and spoiled him every time he visited. He was stunned and saddened. He couldn’t believe it. “Why?” he