Germinal by Émile Zola (reading books for 5 year olds .TXT) 📕
Description
Germinal, named after the spring month in the French Republican Calendar, is often considered to be Zola’s masterpiece. The book follows Étienne Lantier, a young man whose career as a railway worker is abruptly cut short after he attacks a superior. He arrives in Montsou, a coal mining town in the north of France, to begin a new life in a different industry. And the only industry around is mining coal.
Étienne quickly befriends the locals as he embraces his new life in the mines, but the abject poverty of the miners shocks him, and he soon begins reading about socialism. When the owners of the mine conspire to lower the miners’ wages, Étienne seizes the opportunity and convinces the town to strike.
Zola’s depiction of the mining town is shockingly bleak in its detail. He spent months researching the conditions of real-life miners, even going so far as pose as a government official so that he could descend into a mine personally. His encounter with a mining horse—brought underground as a foal to haul coal, never to see the light of day again—affected him so much that he wrote the animal into the plot. Montsou itself is a fully-realized town, with families and characters leading interconnected and nuanced lives across generations: lives so destitute, grueling, and filthy that Zola had to repeatedly defend his work against claims of hyperbole.
Ultimately, the novel was a rallying cry for the workers of the world in an era when communist and socialist ideas were beginning to spread amongst the impoverished working class. The shabby but good-hearted inhabitants of Montsou, so blatantly oppressed by the bourgeois mine owners, are a blank slate for workers of any industry to identify with, and identify they did: Germinal inspired socialist causes for decades after its publication, with crowds chanting “Germinal!” at Zola’s funeral.
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- Author: Émile Zola
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“Will you hold your tongue, eh? Wait till you’re alone if you want to get into trouble.”
He was still speaking when the sound of steps was heard in the upper gallery. Almost immediately the engineer of the mine, little Négrel, as the workmen called him among themselves, appeared at the top of the cutting, accompanied by Dansaert, the head captain.
“Didn’t I say so?” muttered Maheu. “There’s always someone there, rising out of the ground.”
Paul Négrel, M. Hennebeau’s nephew, was a young man of twenty-six, refined and handsome, with curly hair and brown moustache. His pointed nose and sparkling eyes gave him the air of an amiable ferret of sceptical intelligence, which changed into an abrupt authoritative manner in his relations with the workmen. He was dressed like them, and like them smeared with coal; to make them respect him he exhibited a daredevil courage, passing through the most difficult spots and always first when landslips or firedamp explosions occurred.
“Here we are, are we not, Dansaert?” he asked.
The head captain, a coarse-faced Belgian, with a large sensual nose, replied with exaggerated politeness:
“Yes, Monsieur Négrel. Here is the man who was taken on this morning.”
Both of them had slid down into the middle of the cutting. They made Étienne come up. The engineer raised his lamp and looked at him without asking any questions.
“Good,” he said at last. “But I don’t like unknown men to be picked up from the road. Don’t do it again.”
He did not listen to the explanations given to him, the necessities of work, the desire to replace women by men for the haulage. He had begun to examine the roof while the pikemen had taken up their picks again. Suddenly he called out:
“I say there, Maheu; have you no care for life? By heavens! you will all be buried here!”
“Oh! it’s solid,” replied the workman tranquilly.
“What! solid! but the rock is giving already, and you are planting props at more than two metres, as if you grudged it! Ah! you are all alike. You will let your skull be flattened rather than leave the seam to give the necessary time to the timbering! I must ask you to prop that immediately. Double the timbering—do you understand?”
And in face of the unwillingness of the miners who disputed the point, saying that they were good judges of their safety, he became angry.
“Go along! when your heads are smashed, is it you who will have to bear the consequences? Not at all! it will be the Company which will have to pay you pensions, you or your wives. I tell you again that we know you; in order to get two extra trams by evening you would sell your skins.”
Maheu, in spite of the anger which was gradually mastering him, still answered steadily:
“If they paid us enough we should prop it better.”
The engineer shrugged his shoulders without replying. He had descended the cutting, and only said in conclusion, from below:
“You have an hour. Set to work, all of you; and I give you notice that the stall is fined three francs.”
A low growl from the pikemen greeted these words. The force of the system alone restrained them, that military system which, from the trammer to the head captain, ground one beneath the other. Chaval and Levaque, however, made a furious gesture, while Maheu restrained them by a glance, and Zacharie shrugged his shoulders chaffingly. But Étienne was, perhaps, most affected. Since he had found himself at the bottom of this hell a slow rebellion was rising within him. He looked at the resigned Catherine, with her lowered back. Was it possible to kill oneself at this hard toil, in this deadly darkness, and not even to gain the few pence to buy one’s daily bread?
However, Négrel went off with Dansaert, who was content to approve by a continual movement of his head. And their voices again rose; they had just stopped once more, and were examining the timbering in the gallery, which the pikemen were obliged to look after for a length of ten metres behind the cutting.
“Didn’t I tell you that they care nothing?” cried the engineer. “And you! why, in the devil’s name, don’t you watch them?”
“But I do—I do,” stammered the head captain. “One gets tired of repeating things.”
Négrel called loudly:
“Maheu! Maheu!”
They all came down. He went on:
“Do you see that? Will that hold? It’s a twopenny-halfpenny construction! Here is a beam which the posts don’t carry already, it was done so hastily. By Jove! I understand how it is that the mending costs us so much. It’ll do, won’t it? if it lasts as long as you have the care of it; and then it may go smash, and the Company is obliged to have an army of repairers. Look at it down there; it is mere botching!”
Chaval wished to speak, but he silenced him.
“No! I know what you are going to say. Let them pay you more, eh? Very well! I warn you that you will force the managers to do something: they will pay you the planking separately, and proportionately reduce the price of the trams. We shall see if you will gain that way! Meanwhile, prop that over again, at once; I shall pass tomorrow.”
Amid the dismay caused by this threat he went away. Dansaert, who had been so humble, remained behind a few moments, to say brutally to the men:
“You get me into a row, you here. I’ll give you something more than three francs fine, I will. Look out!”
Then, when he had gone, Maheu broke out in his turn:
“By God! what’s fair is fair! I like people to be calm, because that’s the only way of getting along, but at last they make you mad.
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