remains light even when it is most ornate. In the Rougon-Macquart
novels, the insistence on a multiplicity of details tends to heaviness.
Zola was well aware of it, for as far back as 1884, in conversation
with Edmond de Goncourt, Maupassant, Huysmans, Alexis, and an English
friend,[8] he said: "I am in the habit of feeling the pulse of the
public, and am compelled to say that I notice signs of a reaction
against us.... Our books will be regarded as heavy, and we cannot hide
from ourselves that they are not easy to read. To follow us the reader
has to make a determined mental effort." There is no little truth in
that remark, but one may add that Zola is easier to read and follow
than many of his brother realists. Fifty pages of the pyrotechnics of
the Goncourts--the labour connected with which killed the younger one,
Jules, as Edmond often acknowledged--may interest the reader, but after
a few hundred of them one often feels dizzy and fagged. The brothers
Margueritte, who proceeded from the Goncourts, have sometimes carried
the passion for literary fireworks even further. Zola was quite unable
to read their chief work, "Le Désastre." "I have taken up that book
a dozen times," he said one day to the present writer, "but on each
occasion, after picking my way through a few pages, I have had to put
it down. There is some trick of style in every sentence. One is never
allowed a moment's rest. After each of those trials it has seemed to me
as if my head would split."
On another occasion he remarked: "Nothing changes more frequently than
the fashion in literary style. That is why so many books, although
often not very old, are quite unreadable. Our _décadents_ insist on
polishing and repolishing their style till their writings become mere
jewellery work, which will please nobody a few years hence. I myself
dabbled in such work formerly. When it does not run to any great length
it amuses one, and it may interest the critic, even please the reader,
like something fresh and novel. But the latter soon sickens of it. He
does not want to be obliged to cudgel his brain at every sentence."
It is generally held by the critics that the descriptions of Paris
appended to each section of "Une Page d'Amour" are among the finest
passages to be found in the Rougon-Macquart novels. But the present
writer after reperusing them, is inclined to regard their beauty as
being somewhat too artificial, too elaborate. One may well prefer the
panorama of the quays of Paris in "L'Œuvre," the picture of daybreak
at the central markets in "Le Ventre de Paris," the _descente_ and the
_rentrée_ of the workers in "L'Assommoir," and the march of the pitmen
in "Germinal." In the former instances the spectacle which Zola sets
before the reader has a vividness that leaves a lasting impression;
in the latter you are borne along with the crowds which the author
has conjured forth, you can see and hear their tramp, the sensation
of motion being rendered with a skill which few writers have ever
equalled. Further, as a superb example of the horrible blended with the
pathetic, one may cite the wonderful description of the death of little
Charles, in "Le Docteur Pascal."
"Germinal," "L'Assommoir," "La Débâcle," and "La Terre" are ranked
as the four pillars of the Rougon-Macquart series. From a purely
literary standpoint the first is superior to the second, because it
contains less slang. The use of slang in dialogue is often advisable,
even necessary; but in narrative and descriptive passages it is
difficult to defend it unless the story be told in the first person by
one who habitually speaks slang. Zola had some such idea in writing
"L'Assommoir" (which he pictured as a book about the people by one of
them), but shrank from carrying it to its logical conclusion, and the
result, in a literary sense, was not quite pleasing.[9] However, both
"Germinal" and "L'Assommoir" are living books, the greatest their
author ever penned.
Passing to "La Débâcle," this is certainly a wonderfully truthful
panorama of war and its horrors, though the psychology of several of
its characters is open to criticism. Too many of them lack robustness;
they seem too full of nerves to be regarded as typical. In the case
of Maurice, a mere degenerate, the picture is accurate enough; but
assuredly many feelings which Zola and others have attributed to
soldiers are little known in actual war. The majority of military men
are far less sensitive than some have said, and incident often follows
incident so rapidly in real battle that there is no time for thought
or emotion at all. "La Terre" also has faults, the outcome of Zola's
reforming purpose, which led him to assemble too many black characters
within a small circle; had they been more dispersed among people of
an average kind the effect would have been more lifelike. In "Nana"
the general blackness of the characters does not seem out of place,
for only men and women of a sorry sort gravitate around a harlot. A
few more average characters in "La Terre," or, rather, more prominence
given to some who scarcely appear in its pages would have greatly
improved the book. Here, however, as in "Pot-Bouille," Zola, carried
away by his feelings, overlooked that doctrine of average truth, of
which Ste.-Beuve had reminded him apropos of "Thérèse Raquin." He then
admitted that he had piled on the agony unduly, and he made the same
mistake in two or three volumes of "Les Rougon-Macquart." But when
all is said "La Terre" remains one of his strongest and most truthful
books.[10]
The savage brutishness of the chief characters in the work may well
seem impossible to the ignorant; but although in reading "La Terre" one
should always bear in mind that Zola never pretended that all peasants
were like those in his grim picture, it is certain that his personages,
individually, are accurately drawn. Awful is the record of parricides,
matricides, fratricides, common murders, murderous assaults, rapes,
and offences of inferior degree perpetrated in rural France. And
earth hunger, disputes about property, boundaries, inheritances,
and so forth, will be found at the bottom of the great majority of
cases. But "La Terre" does not deal exclusively with the criminal side
of peasant life. It pictures many other features: it describes the
drawbacks of the small-holdings system, shows agriculture hampered by
the extreme subdivision of the soil, traces the march of revolutionary
and socialist principles among those who till it; sketching, too, on
the way, the treatment which the imperial _régime_ accorded to the
peasantry.
There is not space here to pass all the Rougon-Macquart volumes in
review from a critical point of view. One may say, however, that
generally, though not invariably, those dealing with a multiplicity of
characters are superior to those in which Zola analyses the feelings
and actions of a few. It is acknowledged he excelled in portraying
the "crowd." Structural faults are to be found in various volumes.
For instance, the long idyll of Silvère and Miette interrupts the
narrative of "La Fortune des Rougon" unduly; and the poetical Paradou
portion of "La Faute de l'Abbé Mouret" is hardly compatible with the
realism of the opening and concluding chapters. Then "Le Rêve" is
almost out of place in the series, for though the Naturalist writer
must take account of the dreamy aspirations and imaginings of certain
hearts and minds, it is perhaps excessive to picture those dreams
fulfilled in actual happenings. Again, there is some artificiality
in "Une Page d'Amour." Innumerable as are the love intrigues in
French society one may well doubt if an analysis of any would yield
the psychology of Zola's work. "La Curée," on the other hand, within
the limitations imposed on the author by circumstances and personal
knowledge, is a sound piece of work, quite irrespective of the poetical
intentions which some critics have ascribed to it. Passing to such
volumes as "La Conquête de Plassans," "Le Ventre de Paris," and "Son
Excellence," one finds that though they may be minor works they are
very near to life and historical truth. Then "Nana," a great book from
the social standpoint, is almost one in the literary sense also. But
while freely admitting the greatness of "L'Assommoir" and "Germinal,"
the volume which particularly appeals to the present writer is "Le
Docteur Pascal," perhaps because Zola therein expounds and defends his
theory of life. The love of uncle and niece, pictured in this book,
may offend the feelings of English and American Protestants, but they
ought to remember that in Catholic countries marriages often take place
between people connected by that tie of relationship. The writer,
for his part, has nothing whatever to say against them from the moral
standpoint; he deprecates them, even as he deprecates all marriages
between relations, on physiological grounds. But the affections bow
neither to legal enactments nor to scientific rules; love, as we are
all aware, has no master; and if, therefore, one accept the position
of Dr. Pascal and his niece Clotilde, Zola's work will be found one of
absorbing interest for the thinking mind. True, it is disfigured by an
error which the reader must set aside: the death of the old drunkard
Macquart by spontaneous combustion, for scientists have declared such
a death to be impossible. Zola, however, long before writing "Le
Docteur Pascal," had found a case of the kind recorded in a scientific
work; and for years, as several of his letters and utterances show,
he had nursed the idea of bringing it into his final volume. Nobody
then warned him of his error, but directly his book appeared several
scientists protested that, whatever might be the effects of alcoholism,
it could not lead to a death like Macquart's. That episode, then, must
be dismissed, but the bulk of the book remains, with its terrible
lessons, its pages of vivid and merciless analysis, its pictures of
the evils of life relieved by a glowing faith in nature's power for
good, an optimism which nothing dismays, which points to the dawn of a
brighter day for humanity, whatever may be its present condition. And
from the purely literary standpoint "Le Docteur Pascal" is admirable.
Its style is perfect. The descriptive and the analytical passages are
replete with beauty, depth, and force of expression. Poetry is here
so thoroughly welded with prose that one cannot object to it as one
may in some other volumes, such, for instance, as "Une Page d'Amour,"
where it seems merely a beautiful excrescence. The psychology of the
characters in "Le Docteur Pascal" is also good. In point of fact,
no doubt, this was a long meditated work. Almost from the time when
Zola began his series--at least as soon as the Empire had fallen--he
pictured the _finale_ ahead of him, he thought of it during all the
years when he was writing the intervening volumes, he gradually planned
and perfected it in his mind long before he actually wrote it. It is
not a book for the vulgar, who come and go, heedless of the problems,
possibilities, and purposes of life; but though the love of Pascal and
Clotilde may offend moral prejudices, though from the standpoint of
scientific accuracy the narrative may be disfigured by the error of
Macquart's death, we hold this to be the noblest, the most convincing,
the most consoling book that Zola ever wrote. Such an opinion, however,
may not find much acceptance in England and America where the bias in
favour of revealed religion is so strong.
Without insisting further on the merits or demerits of particular
volumes, if we glance at the series as a whole we shall find it to be
an unexampled achievement. It is more self-contained than "La Comédie
Humaine," in writing which Balzac really had no definite plan. As M.
Chaumié, French Minister of Public Instruction, has said: "In Zola's
work one finds all society ... with the _milieux_ in which it displays
its activity, the men composing it, the passions which stir and sway
them, their vices, sorrows, and miseries, the sufferings too of the
disinherited,--the whole forming so striking and so true a picture
that after contemplating it those with the poorest like those with
the keenest sight must realise the necessity of remedying those
sufferings, contending against those vices, and assuaging those
sorrows.... Thus, what might have been only an admirable literary
achievement, an inestimable document on a period, an ever-living
picture of a given time ... acquires greater grandeur, is insured of
yet loftier glory, by the generous spirit which inspired it."[11]
[Illustration: Maître Labori]
Further, though it has been suggested here that some exaggeration
and some flaws may appear in the psychology of certain individual
characters, the series as a whole responds to Taine's definition of
literature as "a living psychology." As M. Paul Bourget has said: "Zola
regarded the novel as a kind of hypothetical experiment, attempted on
positive bases, the first condition for success being that the bases
should be accurate and the hypothesis logical. When the hour of justice
strikes for that unwearying toiler people will recognise what immense
preliminary toil and study lay beneath each of his books. They will
also discern his unwavering purpose to inquire fully into the condition
of contemporary France, to carry his inquiry as far as possible in
order to set the social problem completely and accurately before one.
His right to depict all reality (_la réalité totale_), which is that of
every sociologist, even of every historian, will not be disputed then."
It is scarcely necessary to remind the reader that the Rougon-Macquart
novels should be studied, whenever possible, in the original French,
and not in translations. There have been many versions of the books in
the English language; the present writer has made himself responsible
for not a few of them; and certainly translations are in a measure
useful, for as yet a knowledge of foreign languages is limited to a
minority of the reading public. Besides, it is usually possible to
transmit in a translation, at least in essential particulars, the
lesson which a book is intended to convey. But at the same time much
is lost, and in a good many instances translations which have even
taken rank as literature do not adequately represent their originals.
At the present day, with respect to contemporary works, excellence
in translation is scarcely to be obtained, for commercial conditions
militate against it. An author may give years to the writing of a book,
whereas the English translator is compelled to prepare his version in
a few months, at times even in a few weeks, for it is often stipulated
by the publisher that the translation must appear at the same time as
the original. It may be necessary also for the English translator to
attend to some serial publication, and to provide for copyright in
America, with the result that the work has to be done hastily, in a
rough and ready manner. Again, the prices paid for translations are
usually so low that few men of real ability are willing to undertake
them. The writer, though he has had great experience in these matters,
can suggest no remedy, for undoubtedly the commercial as well as the
literary side of the question has to be considered, and even if a
translator, regardless of gain, were to bestow on his work all the time
and care it might deserve, the chances would be that no publisher would
look at it, for the market would be gone--so swiftly do even very able
books perish in these modern days.
With respect to the writer's own work, as translator or as editor of
various English versions of Zola's novels, he is fully aware of its
many imperfections, due in some instances to the time limit imposed
on him, and in others to pecuniary and similar considerations. Again,
British pharisaism being what it is he had never been able to give an
absolutely complete version of any of Zola's books. Still he has always
tried to preserve the spirit of the original, even when he has been
compelled to throw off his "copy" at express speed. And in any case his
versions, like those of others, will at least have served the purpose
of making most of Zola's views known to thousands who are unable to
read French.
But to properly appreciate and judge any one of the works of the
great novelist it must be read in the original and in its entirety.
That demands a good sound knowledge of French. Nothing has amazed the
writer more than to receive from time to time during the last twelve
years a note to this effect: "Dear Sir,--I am learning French, and in
order to gain a better knowledge of it, I think of trying to read one
of Zola's books with the help of a dictionary. Which volume would you
recommend me to try? Which is an easy one?" Such an idea is, of course,
ludicrous. Zola's style is not particularly involved, his vocabulary
if large is not recondite, but to understand him properly the reader
must possess more than a mere smattering of French. In some volumes,
too, he deals with technical subjects, while in others he occasionally
uses slang or purely Parisian expressions, in which cases dictionaries
are of very little help. The present writer found it necessary to
study certain subjects carefully before attempting to translate some
of Zola's volumes: for it was only by doing so that he could avoid
mistakes. For instance, the English version of "Travail" necessitated
the perusal of several text-books on metallurgy, and a visit to some
large English steel works. An American version of the same book was
made by a person who did not take that precaution, with the result
that it literally bristled with technical errors. When one considers
the vast range of Zola's subjects, it must be obvious that the work of
translating his books amounts to little less than a liberal education.
The writer must confess that for his part he learnt a great deal by the
work, so that if he conferred no particular advantage on his readers he
at least benefited himself.
In previous chapters some mention has been made of Zola's repeated
efforts as a playwright, and as after 1893 he only penned some
_libretti_ for the music of his friend, M. Bruneau, one may here
add a few words respecting his plays. None of those which he wrote
without assistance proved a success, though he often claimed that
some of the public were favourable to "Le Bouton de Rose," which,
said he, was damned mainly by the critics. On the other hand the
stage-craft of M. Busnach made a success of "L'Assommoir" and of one
or two other adaptations. In all probability the correct view to
take of Zola's writings for and about the French stage is that their
influence, however considerable, was chiefly indirect. Realism has
come to dramatic literature--on which the novel always reacts--but the
younger French dramatists rightly regard M. Henri Becque as their more
immediate sponsor. At the same time several things that Zola desired
to see have come to pass; a good many of his philosophical and social
ideas are to be found in the contemporary French drama. Now and again
they appear somewhat conspicuously, as in M. Octave Mirbeau's play
"Les Mauvais Bergers," and in some of the works of M. Brieux. Again,
M. Gustave Charpentier's famous _roman musical_, "Louise," produced in
1900, was distinctly Zolaesque in its inspiration; one of its chief
features, the frequent evocation of Paris, proceeding directly from
"Une Page d'Amour." Further Zola's influence was at times destructive.
Soon after "La Terre" had been published in Paris the Comédie Française
revived George Sand's peasant-play "François le Champi," which since
its first production in 1849 had been frequently played with success
at the Odéon Theatre. But the revival at the Comédie proved a complete
failure, the play which had lived for nearly forty years being slain
in a few nights. Originally regarded as ultra-realistic, it appeared
quite insipid to the generation which had just perused "La Terre." To
sum up, even as the influence of Balzac (though he wrote little for
the stage) was apparent in dramatic productions from 1850 to 1870,
something similar though, perhaps, less pronounced may be observed with
respect to the more recent influence of Zola. He, by the way, was once
asked his opinion of the influence of Ibsen on the French stage, and
of Tolstoï and other Russians on the French novel, and he replied that
he did not attach much importance to the question, for he held that
the ideas which were supposed to rain on Paris from the North were in
reality French ones, which had been disseminated by French writers, and
had come back to their place of origin, occasionally crystallised or
intensified by the more sombre imagination of Scandinavian and Russian
minds.
[1] See a clever study of "Nana," by H. Schutz-Wilson in the "New
Century Review," Vol. V, No. 26, February, 1899.
[2] In our summary of the novels we have left the scientific questions
on one side. It would be impossible to deal with them adequately
here, and those who are curious on the subject must consult "Le
Docteur Pascal," from which we venture to quote just one paragraph,
which indicates Zola's views in a general way: "We see that human
creatures may appear radically different one from another, though
they merely typify so many logical modifications of their common
ancestors. The trunk explains the branches, and the branches explain
the leaves. Although Saccard and Eugène Rougon differ so much in
temperament and mode of life, the same impulsion produced the former's
ravenous appetites and the latter's sovereign ambition. Angélique,
a spotless lily, came from an equivocal creature like Sidonie, for
the same influence determines either mysticism or sexual passion
according to environment. In the case of Mouret's children the
inspiration makes an intelligent man like Octave a millionaire dealer
in finery, causes Serge, a believer, to become a poor priest, while
Désirée, a witless creature, develops into a physically handsome and
happy girl.... But the neurosis passes to Gervaise's children, and
Nana sells herself, Étienne rebels, Jacques murders, and Claude is
endowed with a measure of genius; while Pauline, their cousin-german,
becomes a personification of victorious rectitude, a battling and
self-sacrificing woman. That is heredity, life itself, which produces
imbeciles, madmen, criminals, and great men. Certain cells collapse,
others take their place, and a rascal or a raving lunatic appears
instead of a genius or a mere honest man. And meantime mankind
continues rolling onward, carrying all along with it."
[3] The writer must plead guilty to having unintentionally assisted
the growth of the legend by insisting often unduly on some of Zola's
"quellen," in his introductions to the English translations of the
novelist's books.
[4] Alexis, _l. c._, pp. 163-166.
[5] He was exceedingly jealous about them. The present writer has had a
few in his possession, on trust, but always had to return them. There
may be some early manuscripts of short stories in Russia, and a few
similar ones in the possession of French collectors; but, as a rule,
Zola insisted on the return of his "copy," and nearly the whole of it
was in his possession when he died. As for the first proofs bearing
his numerous corrections he repeatedly stated that almost all of them
were destroyed. The writer has some revises containing occasional
corrections, usually in the handwriting of Madame Zola.
[6] P. 266.
[7] We refer farther on to the death of Macquart by spontaneous
combustion, in "Le Docteur Pascal."
[8] The last named (Mr. George Moore?) gave, it seems, an account of
this conversation in the "St. James's Gazette," May 13, 1884; and the
article was translated and published in Paris. Not having seen the
English text, the present writer has followed the French version.
It appears that the conversation took place at the house of Edmond
de Goncourt, on an occasion when the latter read to his friends his
preface to "Chérie," in which he bade farewell to literature.
[9] In writing "L'Assommoir" Zola did not merely consult the existing
slang dictionaries. The scene of the story was laid at half an hour's
walk from his own home. He prowled the whole neighbourhood for weeks,
observing and listening; and before he set pen to paper he prepared
a little slang lexicon for his own use, one which may some day be
published. He kept this compilation at his elbow while he was writing,
and every time he borrowed from it a word or expression he marked the
latter with a blue pencil, in order to avoid too frequent a repetition
of the same term.
[10] A writer in the "Athenæum" [No. 3911, October 11, 1902], when
reviewing Miss Betham-Edwards's "East of Paris," pointed out that in a
previous work, "France of To-day," 1892, she had denounced "La Terre,"
and declared it to be "crushingly refuted"; whereas ten years later she
admitted that it was "not without foundation on fact."
[11] Funeral oration on Zola.
XII
THE MAN--HIS LIFE DRAMA--A NEW DEPARTURE.
1893-1897