Zola is mixing himself up with l’affaire (that is what one calls the Dreyfus tragedy; there is no other “affair” that counts), and is making himself very unpopular.  He does not mind what he writes, and his attacks reach far and wide and spare no one.  If he stirs up mud at the bottom of the well he does it in order to find the truth.  At any rate, he is honest, though he has had to pay dear for the best policy.  I do not read his books, but I have a great admiration for him.  The public feeling is so strong against him that crowds of the populace rush about the streets pushing, howling, and screaming at the top of their lungs, “Conspuez Zola!” which I cannot translate in other words than, “Spit on Zola!” Mrs. Lawrence and I met a mob while driving through the Place de la Concorde, and a more absurd exhibition of vindictiveness cannot be imagined.

Poor Zola has been condemned to pay a fine of—­how much do you think?  Twenty-five thousand francs!  He would not or could not pay.  The authorities put all his worldly goods, which they valued at twenty thousand francs, up at auction, and went, on the day of the sale, belted with their official scarfes and armed with pretentions, and commenced the farce of the auction.  An old kitchen table was the first thing to be sold.  Two francs were offered.  “Going, going, go—!” when a voice struck in, “Twenty-five thousand francs.” This sudden turn nonplussed the authorities.  The auction was called off and came to an untimely end because no one knew exactly what to do.

May, 1900.

Dear ——­,—­The opening of the Exposition was a grand affair.  I never saw so many people under one roof as there were yesterday at the Salle des Fetes.  The order in the streets was something wonderful.  The police managed the enormous crowd as if it had been composed of so many tin soldiers.

The ladies of the Diplomatic Corps and the wives of the foreign commissioners sat with Madame Loubet in a tribune, on very hard benches.  The President stood on a raised platform overlooking the multitude, surrounded by his Ministers, his official suite, and the Ambassadors and Foreign Ministers in full uniform.  It was a most brilliant sight.

M. Loubet made his speech in as loud a voice as he could command, but I doubt if it was very audible.  Several orchestras played before and after the speeches.

Since then I have been many times to the Exposition, and the only fault I can find with it so far is that it is too enormous; but I admire the cleverness of the architects, who have brought Paris into the middle of it and made it a part of it.  Both sides of the Seine are utilized in the most practical manner.

Every country has its own superb building in the rue des Nations.  Frederick is the commisaire from Denmark.  The Danish Pavilion is the first to be finished and is called a success.  We baptized it with great eclat.  There were speeches and champagne, and the Dane-brog was hoisted amid hurrahs of our compatriots.