emile zola-第1章

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Emile　Zola



by　William　Dean　Howells







In　these　times　of　electrical　movement；　the　sort　of　construction

in　the　moral　world　for　which　ages　were　once　needed；　takes　place

almost　simultaneously　with　the　event　to　be　adjusted　in　history；

and　as　true　a　perspective　forms　itself　as　any　in　the　past。　　A　few

weeks　after　the　death　of　a　poet　of　such　great　epical　imagination；

such　great　ethical　force；　as　Emile　Zola；　we　may　see　him　as

clearly　and　judge　him　as　fairly　as　posterity　alone　was　formerly

supposed　able　to　see　and　to　judge　the　heroes　that　antedated　it。　

The　present　is　always　holding　in　solution　the　elements　of　the

future　and　the　past；　in　fact；　and　whilst　Zola　still　lived；　in　the

moments　of　his　highest　activity；　the　love　and　hate；　the

intelligence　and　ignorance；　of　his　motives　and　his　work　were　as

evident；　and　were　as　accurately　the　measure　of　progressive　and

retrogressive　criticism；　as　they　will　be　hereafter　in　any　of　the

literary　periods　to　come。　　There　will　never　be　criticism　to

appreciate　him　more　justly；　to　depreciate　him　more　unjustly；　than

that　of　his　immediate　contemporaries。　　There　will　never　be　a　day

when　criticism　will　be　of　one　mind　about　him；　when　he　will　no

longer　be　a　question；　and　will　have　become　a　conclusion。

A　conclusion　is　an　accomplished　fact；　something　finally　ended；

something　dead；　and　the　extraordinary　vitality　of　Zola；　when　he

was　doing　the　things　most　characteristic　of　him；　forbids　the

notion　of　this　in　his　case。　　Like　every　man　who　embodies　an

ideal；　his　individuality　partook　of　what　was　imperishable　in　that

ideal。　　Because　he　believed　with　his　whole　soul　that　fiction

should　be　the　representation；　and　in　no　measure　the

misrepresentation；　of　life；　he　will　live　as　long　as　any　history

of　literature　survives。　　He　will　live　as　a　question；　a　dispute；

an　affair　of　inextinguishable　debate；　for　the　two　principles　of

the　human　mind；　the　love　of　the　natural　and　the　love　of　the

unnatural；　the　real　and　the　unreal；　the　truthful　and　the

fanciful；　are　inalienable　and　indestructible。　

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　



I



Zola　embodied　his　ideal　inadequately；　as　every　man　who　embodies

an　ideal　must。　　His　realism　was　his　creed；　which　he　tried　to　make

his　deed；　but；　before　his　fight　was　ended；　and　almost　before　he

began　to　forebode　it　a　losing　fight；　he　began　to　feel　and　to　say

（for　to　feel；　with　that　most　virtuous　and　voracious　spirit；

implied　saying）　that　he　was　too　much　a　romanticist　by　birth　and

tradition；　to　exemplify　realism　in　his　work。　　He　could　not　be　all

to　the　cause　he　honored　that　other　men　weremen　like　Flaubert

and　Maupassant；　and　Tourguenieff　and　Tolstoy；　and　Galdos　and

Valdesbecause　his　intellectual　youth　had　been　nurtured　on　the

milk　of　romanticism　at　the　breast　of　his　mother…time。　　He　grew　up

in　the　day　when　the　great　novelists　and　poets　were　romanticists；

and　what　he　came　to　abhor　he　had　first　adored。　　He　was　that

pathetic　paradox；　a　prophet　who　cannot　practise　what　he　preaches；

who　cannot　build　his　doctrine　into　the　edifice　of　a　living　faith。

Zola　was　none　the　less；　but　all　the　more；　a　poet　in　this。　　He

conceived　of　reality　poetically　and　always　saw　his　human

documents；　as　he　began　early　to　call　them；　ranged　in　the　form　of

an　epic　poem。　　He　fell　below　the　greatest　of　the　Russians；　to

whom　alone　he　was　inferior；　in　imagining　that　the　affairs　of　men

group　themselves　strongly　about　a　central　interest　to　which　they

constantly　refer；　and　after　whatever　excursions　definitely　or

definitively　return。　　He　was　not　willingly　an　epic　poet；　perhaps；

but　he　was　an　epic　poet；　nevertheless；　and　the　imperfection　of

his　realism　began　with　the　perfection　of　his　form。　　Nature　is

sometimes　dramatic；　though　never　on　the　hard　and　fast　terms　of

the　theatre；　but　she　is　almost　never　epic；　and　Zola　was　always

epic。　　One　need　only　think　over　his　books　and　his　subjects　to　be

convinced　of　this：　　〃L'Assommoir〃　and　drunkenness；　〃Nana〃　and

harlotry；　〃Germinale〃　and　strikes；　〃L'Argent〃　and　money　getting

and　losing　in　all　its　branches；　〃Pot…Bouille〃　and　the　cruel

squalor　of　poverty；　〃La　Terre〃　and　the　life　of　the　peasant；　〃Le

Debacle〃　and　the　decay　of　imperialism。　　The　largest　of　these

schemes　does　not　extend　beyond　the　periphery　described　by　the

centrifugal　whirl　of　its　central　motive；　and　the　least　of　the

Rougon…Macquart　series　is　of　the　same　epicality　as　the　grandest。　

Each　is　bound　to　a　thesis；　but　reality　is　bound　to　no　thesis。　

You　cannot　say　where　it　begins　or　where　it　leaves　off；　and　it

will　not　allow　you　to　say　precisely　what　its　meaning　or　argument

is。　　For　this　reason；　there　are　no　such　perfect　pieces　of　realism

as　the　plays　of　Ibsen；　which　have　all　or　each　a　thesis；　but　do

not　hold　themselves　bound　to　prove　it；　or　even　fully　to　state　it；

after　these；　for　reality；　come　the　novels　of　Tolstoy；　which　are

of　a　direction　so　profound　because　so　patient　of　aberration　and

exception。



We　think　of　beauty　as　implicated　in　symmetry；　but　there　are

distinctly　two　kinds　of　beauty：　the　symmetrical　and　the

unsymmetrical；　the　beauty　of　the　temple　and　the　beauty　of　the

tree。　　Life　is　not　more　symmetrical　than　a　tree；　and　the　effort

of　art　to　give　it　balance　and　proportion　is　to　make　it　as　false

in　effect　as　a　tree　clipped　and　trained　to　a　certain　shape。　　The

Russians　and　the　Scandinavians　alone　seem　to　have　risen　to　a

consciousness　of　this　in　their　imaginative　literature；　though　the

English　have　always　unconsciously　obeyed　the　law　of　our　being　in

their　generally　crude　and　involuntary　formulations　of　it。　　In　the

northern　masters　there　is　no　appearance　of　what　M。　Ernest　Dupuy

calls　the　joiner…work　of　the　French　fictionalists；　and　there　is；

in　the　process；　no　joiner…work　in　Zola；　but　the　final　effect　is

joiner…work。　　It　is　a　temple　he　builds；　and　not　a　tree　he　plants

and　lets　grow　after　he　has　planted　the　seed；　and　here　he　betrays

not　only　his　French　school　but　his　Italian　instinct。



In　his　form；　Zola　is　classic；　that　is　regular；　symmetrical；

seeking　the　beauty　of　the　temple　rather　than　the　beauty　of　the

tree。　　If　the　fight　in　his　day　had　been　the　earlier　fight　between

classicism　and　romanticism；　instead　of　romanticism　and　realism；

his　nature　and　tradition　would　have　ranged　him　on　the　side　of

classicism；　though；　as　in　the　later　event；　his　feeling　might　have

been　romantic。　　I　think　it　has　been　the　error　of　criticism　not　to

take　due　account　of　his　Italian　origin；　or　to　recognize　that　he

was　only　half　French；　and　that　this　half　was　his　superficial

half。　　At　the　bottom　of　his　soul；　though　not　perhaps　at　the

bottom　of　his　heart；　he　was　Italian；　and　of　the　great　race　which

in　every　science　and　every　art　seems　to　win　the　primacy　when　it

will。　　The　French；　through　the　rhetoric　of　Napoleon　III。；　imposed

themselves　on　the　imagination　of　the　world　as　the　representatives

of　the　Latin　race；　but　they　are　the　least　and　the　last　of　the

Latins；　and　the　Italians　are　the　first。　　To　his　Italian　origin

Zola　owed　not　only　the　moralistic　scope　of　his　literary　ambition；

but　the　depth　and　strength　of　his　personal　conscience；　capable　of

the　austere　puritanism　which　underlies　the　so…called　immoralities

of　his　books；　and　incapable　of　the　peculiar　lubricity　which　we

call　French；　possibly　to　distinguish　it　from　the　lubricity　of

other　people　rather　than　to　declare　it　a　thing　solely　French。　　In

the　face　of　all　public　and　private　corruptions；　his　soul　is　as

Piagnone　as　Savonarola's；　and　the　vices　of　Arrabbiati；　small　and

great；　are　always　his　text；　upon　which　he　preaches　virtue。　

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　



II　



Zola　is　to　me　so　vast　a　theme　that　I　can　only　hope　here　to　touch

his　work　at　a　point　or　two；　leaving　the　proof　of　my　sayings

mostly　to　the　honesty　of　the　reader。　　It　will　not　require　so

great　an　effort　of　his　honesty　now；　as　it　once　would；　to　own　that

Zola's　books；　though　often　indecent；　are　never　immoral；　but

always　most　terribly；　most　pitilessly　moral。　　I　am　not　saying　now

that　they　ought　to　be　in　every　family　library；　or　that　they　could

be　edifyingly　committed　to　the　hands　of　boys　and　girls；　one　of

our　first　publishing　houses　is　about　to　issue　an　edition　even　of

the　Bible　〃with　those　passages　omitted　which　are　usually　skipped

in　reading　aloud〃；　and　it　is　always　a　question　how　much　young

people　can　be　profitably　allowed　to　know；　how　much　they　do　know；

they　alone　can　tell。　　But　as　to　the　intention　of　Zola　in　his

books；　I　have　no　doubt　of　its　righteousness。　　His　books　may　be；

and　I　suppose　they　often　are；　indecent；　but　they　are　not　immoral；

they　may　disgust；　but　they　will　not　deprave；　only　those　already

rotten　can　scent　corruption　in　them；　and　these；　I　think；　may　be

deceived　by　effluvia　from　within　themselves。



It　is　to　the　glory　of　the　French　realists　that　they　broke；　one

and　all；　with　the　tradition　of　the　French　romanticists　that　vice

was　or　might　be　something　graceful；　something　poetic；　something

gay；　brilliant；　something　superior　almost；　and　at　once　boldly

presented　it　in　its　true　figure；　its　spiritual　and　social　and

physical　squalor。　　Beginning　with　Flaubert　in　his　〃Madame

Bovary；〃　and　passing　through　the　whole　line　of　their　studies　in

morbid　anatomy；　as　the　〃Germinie　Lacerteux〃　of　the　Goncourts；　as

the　〃Bel…Ami〃　of　Maupassant；　and　as　all　the　books　of　Zola；　you

have　portraits　as　veracious　as　those　of　the　Russians；　or　those　of

Defoe；　whom；　indeed；　more　than　any　other　master；　Zola　has　made　me

think　of　in　his　frankness。　　Through　his　epicality　he　is　Defoe's

inferior；　though　much　more　than　his　equal　in　the　range　and

implication　of　his　work。



A　whole　world　seems　to　stir　in　each　of　his　books；　and；　though　it

is　a　world　altogether　bent　for　the　time　being　upon　one　thing；　as

the　actual　world　never　is；　every　individual　in　it　seems　alive　and

true　to　the　fact。　　M。　Brunetiere　says　Zola's　characters　are　not

true　to　the　French　fact；　that　his　peasants；　working…men；

citizens；　soldiers　are　not　French；　whatever　else　they　may　be；　but

this　is　merely　M。　Brunetiere's　word　against　Zola's　word；　and　Zola

had　as　good　opportunities　of　knowing　French　life　as　Mr。

Brunetiere；　whose　aesthetics；　as　he　betrays　them　in　his

instances；　are　of　a　flabbiness　which　does　not　impart　conviction。　

Word　for　word；　I　should　take　Zola's　word　as　to　the　fact；　not

because　I　have　the　means　of　affirming　him　more　reliable；　but

because　I　have　rarely　known　the　observant　instinct　of　poets　to

fail；　and　because　I　believe　that　every　reader　will　find　in

himself　sufficient　witness　to　the　veracity　of　Zola's

characterizations。　　These；　if　they　are　not　true　to　the　French

fact；　are　true　to　the　human　fact；　and　I　should　say　that　in　these

the　reality　of　Zola；　unreal　or　ideal　in　his　larger　form；　his

epicality；　vitally　resided。　　His　people　live　in　the　memory　as

entirely　as　any　people　who　have　ever　lived；　and；　however

devastating　one's　experience　of　them　may　be；　it　leaves　no　doubt

of　their　having　been。