Anarchism as Fiction in Mirbeau's Le Journal d'une femme de chambre Robert Ziegler In a February 1894 article submitted to Le Journal, polemicist/ play- wright/ novelist Octave Mirbeau struggled to differentiate between the homicidal zealotry of bomb-thrower Emile Henry and the sober revo- lutionary theory propounded in Jean Grave La Société mourante et l'a- narchie ( 1893 ). Awaiting trial in Mazas prison, Grave, as Mirbeau reasoned, faced prosecution ostensibly for embracing the same philosophy as that of the charis- matic terrorist Ravachol and the assassin of President Carnot, the Italian Santo Caserio. The reason for this confusion, Mirbeau surmises, was an ambiguity of terms: "l'anarchie a bon dos," he writes. "Comme le papier, elle souffre tout."1 Broad-backed and polysemically nebulous, anarchy, by the middle of the decade, had assumed a promiscuous versatility that enabled it to be redefined by each of its users. In this respect, it resembled the domestic chronically renamed by her employers in Le Journal d'une femme de chambre ( 1900 ), a novel inspired by the writer's own anarchistic sympathies. There is a telling complementarity between the professional status of Mir- beau's heroine and the ideological underpinnings of his text. An equivocal vehi- cle for expressing the disaffection felt by workers, intellectuals, aesthetes, and misfits for an oppressive status quo, anarchy was like the maid in being defined by a discourse of power on which it was oppositionally dependent. Assigned a succession of degrading roles, forced to respond to different terms of address, Célestine herself is paper "[qui] souffre tout," an empty page inscribed by her tyrannical employers. By disavowing her lowly origins and despising the mis- tresses whom she emulates, Célestine becomes a déclassée who belongs nowhere. She is therefore "[c]ongruent neither with herself nor with her superiors or infe- riors," and so, as Emily Apter writes, "is destabilized and dislocated, becoming an omnibus signifier."2 -195- |