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The Role Of Nature In The Novels, Novelettes, And Short Stories Of Edouard Estaunie

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The Role Of Nature In The Novels, Novelettes, And Short Stories Of Edouard Estaunie

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Content This dissertation
has been microfilmed
exactly as received
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Mic 60-4474
BALL, J r ., Bertrand Logan. THE HOLE OF
NATURE IN THE NOVELS, NOVELETTES,
AND SHORT STORIES OF EDOUARD ESTAUNIE.
University of Southern California
Ph. D ., 1960
Language and Literature, modern
University M icrofilm s, In c., Ann Arbor, Michigan
THE ROLE OF NATURE IN
THE NOVELS, NOVELETTES, AND SHORT STORIES
o f E d o u a r d e s t a u n i£
by
B ertrand Logan Ball, Jr.
A D issertation P resen ted to the
FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In P a rtia l Fulfillm ent of the
Requirem ents for the Degree
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
(French)
August I960
UNIVERSITY O F SO U TH ERN CALIFORNIA
GRADUATE SCHOOL
UNIVERSITY PARK
LOS ANGELES 7, CALIFORNIA
This dissertation, written by
Bertrand_L_ogan..Ban, Jr.
under the direction of hia Dissertation C om
mittee, and approved by all its members, has
been presented to and accepted by the Graduate
School, in partial fulfillment of requirements
for the degree of
D O C T O R O F P H I L O S O P H Y
........
^ ~6ean
Date................ J.^neA ..J 9 6 0 ..............................
DISSERTATION COMMITTEE
..................
Chairman
.....
PR EFA CE
Most of the scholarly studies which have been made of the lite r
ary works of Estaunie either deal with his works in a general way or
consider his philosophical ideas and analyze his characters. Those de
voted to his novelistic art are not numerous. None of them is exhaus
tive in treatment or concerned with a single aspect of his art. In order
to appraise his worth as a literary artist and to determine the contribu
tion which he made to French literature, exhaustive analyses of the
many aspects of his art are needed. His landscapes are a facet of his
art. The role of nature in his works, therefore, needs to be deter-
• j 1
mined.
The 334 landscapes which are found in the novels, novelettes,
and short stories of Estaunie are not superfluous descriptive passages.
They have specific functions in the development of his literary art.
For the purpose of determining these functions, we have divided the
dissertation into five chapters. The first two chapters, general in na
ture, orient us from a biographical and literary standpoint to the sub
ject which we are going to consider. The first chapter summarizes the
life of Estaunie. The second considers the characteristics of his two
periods of literary development. The third chapter, which forms the
^The word nature, as used and understood in this dissertation,
is restricted in meaning to the natural scenery which fills the earth and
the atmosphere.
core of the dissertation, has five subdivisions. The place and role of
nature is briefly stated; the various natural phenomena described are
classified; the m anner in which Estaunid became acquainted with nature
is considered; the manner in which nature is perceived through the v is
ual, auditory, olfactory, and tactile senses is analyzed; and the m an
ner in which nature is presented is studied. The fourth chapter d is
cusses nature as a source and as an intensifier of various emotions,
ranging from joy to loneliness. The fifth chapter reconsiders the role
of nature in the literary works, this time in the light of all the evidence
which has been presented. The differences between the landscapes of
the first period and those of the second period are brought out. In con
clusion, the role of nature in the novels, novelettes, and short stories
of Estaunie is compared to the role of nature in the novels of Paul
Bourget and Anatole France, the two contem poraries of Estaunid whose
works can be compared m ost easily to his.
I wish to acknowledge my gratitude to the following individuals
for the help and counsel which they have given me in obtaining research
m aterials and in preparing this dissertation: Dr. Rend Belld, Dr.
Jacques Poujol, Dr. Dorothy McMahon, and Dr. Arthur Knodel of the
University of Southern California; Dr. Edward Harvey; Dr. Henri
Talon; Dr. F rederick Lehner; Dr. Fernand Baldensperger; Daniel-
Rops; and M rs. M arjorie Ilsley. I wish to give special thanks to Mme
Jeanne Estaunid, widow of Edouard Estaunid, who gave me much valu
able information about her late husband. I am also indebted to the Do-
heny L ibrary of the University of Southern California, the Bibliothdque
Nationale, and the Library of the University of Dijon for aid in securing
research m aterials.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Page
P R E F A C E ........................................................................................................................... ii
Chapter
I. BIOGRAPHY ......................................................................................................... 1
II. THE LITERARY WORKS ............................................................................ 5
N aturalistic Period
Spiritualistic Period
III. ENUMERATION AND CLASSIFICATION OF THE
ASPECTS OF NATURE DESCRIBED AND OF THE
MANNER IN WHICH THEY ARE D ESCRIBED ...................... 22
The Place and Role of Nature
Enum eration and Classification of the Natural
Phenomena Described
The Manner in Which Estaunid Became
Acquainted with Nature
The Manner in Which Nature is Perceived
The Manner in Which Nature is P resented
IV. EMOTIVE N A T U R E.......................................................................................... 81
Nature and Joy
Nature and Peace
Nature and Depression
Nature and Anxiety
Nature and F ear
Nature and Loneliness
The Mood of Nature in Opposition to that of the
C haracters
Conclusion
V. CONCLUSION........................................................................................................ 114
The Role of Nature and the Evolution of Nature in
the Novels, Novelettes, and Short Stories
v
v i
Chapter Page
The Role of Nature in Estaunid's Works Compared
to the Role of Nature in the Novels of Two of
his Contem poraries: Paul Bourget and
Anatole France
BIBLIO G RAPH Y ..................................... 133
A PPEN D IX ........................................................................................................................... 156
CHAPTER I
BIOGRAPHY
Louis-M arie-Edouard Estaunie (1862-1942) was born in Dijon
on February 4, 186-2, of a family of the upper middle class. A Jansen-
ist gravity characterized the Languedocians of his father's side; ascet
ic tendencies ran strongly among the Burgundians of his m other's fami
ly.
His father died before he was born. M. Monthieu, his m aternal
grandfather, took charge of his education. The boy was required to
study assiduously, and he was not perm itted to indulge in many d is
tractions. He received love, encouragement, and understanding from
his mother, who compensated in some m easure for the sternness of M.
Monthieu. Estaunie paid her a tribute in the dedication of Les choses
voient, w ritten after her death.
O mbre! je te benis d'etre restee; je te bdnis pour la douceur
dont tu enveloppas l'heure amfere, pour les annees adorables qui ne
sont plus, surtout pour les anndes qui viennent, si solitaires en
apparence et si pleines de toi'.^
Young Estaunie planned to follow the career of his father, engi
neering, and to enter the Ecole Polytechnique. He studied with the
Jesuits, first at D61e, then at Dijon. In 1878, at the age of sixteen, he
left for P aris to continue his education. He enrolled at the Ecole de la
^ CV, p. 11. For this, and other abbreviations used in this
study, see the Appendix.
1
2
Rue des Postes, which was also a Jesuit institution. In 1882, he was
accepted at the Ecole Polytechnique. He prepared for a career in civil
engineering. His grades, however, were not high enough to perm it
him to enter the field of his choice. He left the school in 1884.
That same year, he published his first work, Symphonie en ut
mineur, a short lyric piece. His literary vocation had been discovered
by his m other when he was only seven years old. She had found a short
prose work in his desk. Her understanding and guidance enabled him
to continue writing in the face of the disapproval of M. Monthieu. She
2
remained his counselor in literary m atters until her death in 1912.
Her place was taken by the distinguished essayist, Andre Bellessort,
3
to whom Estaunie read many of his novels and short stories.
Estaunie cultivated friendships with such distinguished men as Paul
Hervieu, Franpois de Curel, and Edouard Rod.
The scientific education which Estaunid had received at the
Ecole Polytechnique affected his early literary work. He read Renan,
Spencer, and Taine.4 He studied the works of the naturalists, particu
larly those of Guy de Maupassant, to whom he dedicated two novels:
Un simple and Le ferm ent.
Estaunid developed his psychological, critical, and artistic
powers in the field of journalism. He contributed some seventy
2
Seance de l'Academie Franpaise du 2 avril 1925. Discours de
reception de M. Edouard Estaunid; reponse de M. Robert de F lers
(Paris: P errin, 1925), p. 31.
3
John Charpentier, Estaunid (Paris: Firmin-Didot, 1932), pp.
16-17.
4Ibid., p. 29.
articles of criticism , in the field of art and literature, to three periodi
cals: La Gazette Diplomatique, Le Memorial Diplomatique, and La Re
vue des Musdes.
As early as 1893, in the opening chapter of Petits M attres, a
study of Dutch art, Estaunid denounced science as giving only unsure
and tentative explanations.
II faut . . . se decider h admettre que si certitude fut incomplete,
toujours perfectible et denude de criterium , c'est bien celle des
sciences naturelles. Quant aux sciences dites exactes, les unes,
comme la geomdtrie, reposent sur des assertions gratuites qui en
font chanceler le fondement; les autres, telles que l'alghbre ne sont
que des procedes de raisonnement, n1 ay ant pas plus de^certitude
par eux-mdmes que n'en pourrait avoir un syllogisme.
His later literary works showed a marked change in outlook.
He had undergone a metaphysical crisis, discovering the reality of in
ner solitude. His novels became essentially spiritualistic; it was to
the invisible, and not to the visible, that he turned his attention.
Estaunie's career as a civil servant began in 1886, when he
successfully passed the examination for the Administration of Post-
Offitres and Telegraphs (Administration des Postes et Telegraph.es).
He rose steadily to positions of importance. He successively held the
following posts: Director of the Ecole d1 Application des Postes et
Telegraphes; Director of Materiel and Construction of the Administra
tion of Post-Offices and Telegraphs; and Inspector-General of the Ad
ministration of Telegraphs.
During the F irst World War, the British government appointed
him to a high post in telecommunications. He m arried Jeanne Arnal,
5
Impressions de Hollande: Petits Mattres (Paris: Perrin,
1893), p. 4.
nee Engels, in 1916. After the war, he was called to Strasbourg by the
French government to head a commission for the liquidation of German
property in Alsace-Lorraine.
In spite of his many responsibilities, he persistently set aside
two hours in the middle of the day to work on his novels. He retired
from government service in 1919. at the age of 57, in order to devote
more time to writing. From 1919 until 1935, he published more nov
els, novelettes, short stories, and articles of literary criticism , in
addition to writing prefaces for the works of lesser known authors. He
became active in academic and literary societies. He was elected to
the French Academy in 1923. The Association Bourguignonne des
Societes Savantes, which he had formed in 1914, elected him president
in 1924. He served as president of the Soci£t£ des Gens de Lettres
from 1926 to 1928.
Estaunie's last years were m arred by ill health. He died in
Paris on April 2, 1942.
CHAPTER II
THE LITERARY WORKS
N aturalistic Period
The literary development of Estaunid can be divided into two
distinct periods. Estaunie himself acknowledges the validity of this di
chotomy.
"Dans m a vie de romancier il y a deux periodes bien distinctes qui
correspondent h un changement metaphysique. La prem ihre va jus-
qu'h La vie secrfete en passant par L1 empreinte et Le ferm ent. La
seconde est la p£riode actuelle.
The first period was naturalistic.
"J'ai fait mes debuts de rom ancier en pleine epoque naturaliste.
J'avais ecrit tout d'abord deux livres de science pure . . .
Mes fortes etudes scientifiques m 'avaient impregne d'un posi-
tivisme eperdu que j'ai expos£ plus tard dans L1 epave.
Mais les deux ouvrages les plus caracteristiques de cette pdri-
ode furent successivement L1 empreinte et Le ferment . . .
Dans L1 em preinte, j'avais determine les effets d'une education
religieuse trop forte et laissant insuffisamment place au libre arbi-
tre, mais bientot, dans Le ferm ent, j'etudiais au contraire les
consequences d’un enseignement purement scientifique, dans des
Robert Valette, "Entretien avec Edouard Estaunie, " Revue des
Visages, VI (March, 1928), 3. See also: Henri Villemot (ed. ), "Quel-
ques propos de M. Edouard Estaunid, " Bourgogne d'O r, December,
1933, p. 38.
Les sources d'energie electrique (Paris: L ibrairies-Im prim e-
ries Reunies, 1895); Traite pratique de tdldcommunication Electrique
(telegraphie- -telephonie) (Paris: Dunod, 1904).
5
6
3
esprits depourvus du soutien de la m orale. "
The principal works of this period are: Un sim ple, Bonne-Dame,
Li1 em preinte, Le ferm ent, and L'epave. La vie secrfete, although con
taining characteristics of naturalism , is m ore properly placed in the
second period.
The naturalistic works w ere motivated by the'concept that hu
m an beings w ere a product of heredity, environment, and the attendant
circum stances of life; Hippolyte Taine term ed these factors ra c e , m i
lieu, and m om ent. The denouement of the novels of this period was an
inevitable result of the interaction of these forces upon the individual.
Un simple concerns a young bourgeois of Toulouse, Stephane
D eschantres. During the sum m er of his eighteenth year, he and his
m other sojourned in the country. She was accused of carrying on a
clandestine love affair with a m a rrie d cousin. The incredulous youth
spied upon her until he verified the accusation. Failing in his attempt
to persuade her to leave her lover, the boy ended his life by drowning
him self in a river.
The protagonist of Un simple is conceived in term s of heredity
and environment. He inherited weak health. His early environment at
Toulouse ham pered his physical and emotional growth since he was
forced to study long hours without the benefit of healthful exercise and
social contacts. Having lost his father at an early age, he was raised
by a domineering mother, who treated him alternately with effusive
tenderness and unreasonable severity. His schoolmates teased him
3
Valette, op. cit. , pp. 3-4.
unm ercifully because he was awkward, timid, and slow of mind.
Since his environment was changed when he went to the country,
his physical and emotional condition was likewise altered. The daily
contact with field s, woods, and stream s strengthened his health and
hastened his emotional and sexual m aturity. Sensual desires awakened
within him, causing him to feel excited and guilty at the same tim e.
The circum stances which led to his discovery of the sexual offense of
his m other, whom he idolized, was a fatal shock to his delicate and
sensitive nature. He could not endure the realization that she p r e
fe rre d her lover to him. The denouement is an inevitable result of the
forces of heredity, environm ent, and circum stances acting upon the
protagonist over a given period of time.
Leonard Clan, the protagonist of L 1 em preinte, was an orphan
raised in Nevers at the Jesuit school of Saint-Louis-de-G onzague. His
youthful zeal and piety w ere encouraged by the F ath ers, who wished to
make him one of them. Leonard, however, suspected them of deceit
and underhanded actions. Upon graduation, he went to P aris.
Having lost his religious faith, he turned to social reform . He
wrote a few articles. He hoped to teach a course under the auspices of
an organization which advocated changes in the social order. But a
plot on the p art of the Jesuits took this opportunity away from him. His
best friend died in a sudden and horrible m anner.
Completely alone, Leonard returned to Nevers. Realizing that
his early education had fashioned him in such a way that he could not
succeed in the lay world, he decided to enter the Jesuit O rder, hoping
to regain his lost faith.
Leonard had inherited keen intelligence and sensitivity. His
early environment had developed his religious nature to the utm ost.
His intelligence, however, had recognized the inadequacy of the aca
demic instruction which he was receiving and the underhanded methods
of his educators. His pride had refused to submit to a rule of absolute
obedience to one's religious superiors.
Although Leonard rejected the Jesuit environment of his child
hood, he was not able to adjust to the P a risia n environment which he
chose alter graduation. Because his education had neglected to stim u
late his intellectual curiosity and to develop within him the ability to
examine documents and ideas with scientific objectivity, he lacked the
prerequisites for becoming an effective social leader. His contempt
for women made him unfit for m arriage. His religious nature craved a
faith which he could not find in a society of agnostics and m a terialists.
Two circum stances resulted in his return to Nevers and his ultim ate
decision to enter the Jesuit Order: the losing of a chance to teach
through the machinations of the Jesuits; and the death of his only close
friend.
Julien Dartot, the protagonist of Le ferm ent, was a graduate
engineer of the Ecole Centrale. Unable to find work in P a ris, he was
forced to accept a m ediocre factory job in Belgium. Upon the death of
his father, he inherited a sm all amount of money which he risked at
gambling. Having won a fortune, he returned to P a ris to engage in d is
honest financial manipulations. He soon rose to rank and wealth.
Julien descended from a fam ily of peasants. He had inherited
the physical ugliness of his father. As a student in P a ris, he came to
9:
scorn his peasant background. Studying diligently, he dream ed of the
life of prestige, luxury, and pleasure which he would lead after gradua
tion from the Ecole Centrale.
Cette vie m§me qu'il convoitait etait bien pareille au luxe parisien
la manifestant: en vain Julien s'efforqait-il de l'im aginer, elle lui
echappait, tout en ddcor et besoins factices, tourm entde p ar le dd-
s ir unique de p araltre riche, sans autre souci r£el que d'exciter le
depit d'un plus pauvre que soi. Son faste etait de surface, son a rt
un trom pe-l'oeil, sa m orale une form e de politesse.^
When Julien moved to Angleur, Belgium, he became hom esick
for P a ris. His m eager salary afforded him none of the luxuries of
which he had dream ed. He felt that his schooling entitled him to a fine
job and to an abundant income. He would not join the ranks of the thou
sands who contented them selves with routine factory work because
there was an overabundance of graduate engineers trained in a theoreti
cal science. When circum stances placed a large sum of money in his
Hands, he determ ined to avenge him self upon the society which he hated
for having thwarted his hopes. He felt no rem o rse at gaining prestige
and luxury at the cost of unscrupulous financial manipulations.
D eterm inism is expressed many tim es in the naturalistic nov
els. Nature is conceived as a vast accumulation of m atter and energy,
of force and equilibrium, in a constant state of flux. Man is a tiny, un
im portant p art of the universal scheme of things. His mind and his
body are subject to m echanical laws. The concept of good and evil is
only a figment of his imagination.
L'homme ne vit que par la nature; il n 'est que pour la serv ir.
Elle le fagonne, l'elbve; docile, plein d'illusions, il obdit, accom -
plit son rSle et, modifiant les Energies disponibles, concourt h.
l'oeuvr.e commune de transform ation.
^ F e r, p . 15.
10
Regardez encore de plus prds: il n'y a partout que justice.
Rien ne se perd ni ne se cree, dit un axiome de physique: chaque
force, quelle que soit sa nature, rencontre une autre force qui lui
est egale. Notre §tre m iserable n'dchappe pas d. 1'universality de
la loi. M atidre et esprit subissent les mdmes ndcessitds m^can-
iques. II n'y a, je le rdpdte, ni bien, ni mal; il n'y a que des forces
et des equilibres.^
It m ust be borne in mind that the protagonists of the novels of
the naturalistic period, although they are products of heredity, environ
ment, and the attendant circum stances of life, are not the ch aracter-
types created by Emile Zola. They are not symbolic representations
of a whole social class. They are not conceived in term s of instincts
and elemental passions. On the contrary, they are individuals, unique
and different from all others. They are sensitive beings, endowed
with intelligence and a strong will. Estaunie carefully analyzes their
thoughts and emotions in the course of his narratives, noting the m an
ner in which they react to their environment.
Spiritualistic Period
The second part of Estaunid1 s literary development may be
term ed spiritualistic.
"La seconde partie de m a vie litteraire, " reprend Edouard
Estaunid, "qui commence d p artir de La vie secrdte, est due d une
crise metaphysique. Je venais de decouvrir la solitude interieure
et le silence--l'im possibilitd d'atteindre le m ystdre de notre destin.
"Nous nous dtendons en surface, m ais pas en profondeur, de Id
l'idde que la science ne joue pas un role absolu, et ne nous conduit
pas. Voyez-vous, nous sommes enveloppds d'inconnu. II y a des
forces agissantes, en dehors de nous-m dm es et qu'on n 'a p a s encore
determindes. La rupture entre la m atidre et les forces intellectu-
elles n'existe pas. Le tra it d'union est encore l'inconnu.
The principal works of the spiritualistic period are: La vie secrdte,
5 A
Em p, pp. 268-269. Valette, op. cit. , p. 7.
11
Les choses voient, Solitudes, L1 ascension de M. B aslhvre, L l appel de
la route, L'infirm e aux m ains de lum ihre, Le labyrinthe, Tels qu'ils
furent, and Madame Clapain. The chief ch aracteristic of these works
is the em ergence of spiritual phenomena, such as the soul, the " se c re t
life, " and solitude, as the dominating reality of Estaunid1 s universe.
W ebster's New World Dictionary of the A m erican Language de
fines the soul as
. . . an entity which is regarded as being the im m ortal or spiritual
p art of the person and, though having no physical or m aterial r e a li
ty, is credited with the functions of thinking and willing, and hence
determining all behavior.
The concept of the soul as an entity separate from the body is firs t de
veloped in La vie se c rh te . Spiritual health is regarded as determ ining
physical health. One of the ch aracters, Dr. Pontillac, states: " J 'e s -
8
time qu1 en tout temps, la sante de l'am e commande au corps. "
E xtrasen sory perception is a notable feature of the w ritings of
the spiritualistic period. The ch aracters are sensitive to the thoughts
and the feelings of others, even though they do not communicate with
them through the five senses. In m om ents of crisis, souls have r e
course to direct contact. "A certains m om ents, la parole cesse de
compter: on n 'est plus sensible qu'au peuplement de l'a ir par l'invisible
9
emanation des Smes . "
M. L orm ier loved his daughter so intesely that when her a tti
tude toward him changed, he sensed it im m ediately.
Si p ar hasard vous avez aime, ce dont je vous plaindrais, fallait-il
7
W ebster's New World Dictionary of the A m erican Language.
College Edition (Cleveland: World Publishing Co. , 1956).
8 VS, p. 312. 9AR, p. 280.
12 -
que vous vissiez pour apprendre quand on btait las de votre p r e
sence? Vous le sentiezl Ce que l'on sent est autrem ent certain que
ce que l'on voit. Sentir, c'est happer l'im pondbrable, tkter l'invi-
sible, atteindre lk oh le regard ne pbnhtre pas. Dans un doute
poignant, je vous le demande, est-ce vos yeux que vous consultez
ou la perception intime, continue, que la raison m bprise et qui,
heureusem ent, veille k sa place pour notre garde
Adble Doublet and her daughter, Aurelie, had such apprehension to
w ard the future that their emotion filled the atm osphere of their house.
II est trks difficile d'expliquer pourquoi une m ais on change, et
meme en quoi elle change. II est cependant incontestable qu'k c e r
tains moments et tout d'un coup, sans que rien soit modifie dans le
train de vie ou l'aspect m ateriel des choses, l'atm osphbre se
transform e, l'a ir vibre autrement, chacun rode d'une pibce k
1'autre sans les reconnaltre, et la paix coutumihre fait place k une
irresistib le anxiete.
The souls of the dead communicate with the living. M. Bas-
lfevre, the protagonist of L 1 ascension de M. B aslhvre, learned to love
Claire Gros in a pure and unselfish way. Her death brought them clos
er together spiritually. C laire's soul accompanied M. Baslbvre w her
ever he went, counseling and guiding him. The protagonist of Madame
Clapain, Ida Cadifon, learned the reason for the suicide of her boarder,
Madame Clapain. She kept the secret for which the latter had s a c ri
ficed her life and gained a spiritual joy which transfigured her form er
self. Once she saw the dead woman before her, peacefully speaking to
12
her of the rewards of unselfish love.
Things, that is, the m aterial possessions of the characters, be
come vessels which receive their souls. The innerm ost emotions and
desires of individuals are preserv ed in these things even after their
death. Three pieces of furniture in an old house in Dijon witness vio
lent and tragic events occurring over a period of three generations.
10Ibid. , p. 54. 11TF, p. 86. 1ZMC, pp. 322-326.
13'
The clock, the m irro r, and the desk are w itnesses to a crim e and its
expiation. It is their recollections which form the basis of the novel
titled Les choses voient.
Solitude is the m ost im portant phenomenon in the novels of E s
taunie. Its im portance lies in the decisive effect which it exercises on
the lives of the characters. Solitude was im portant in the naturalistic
works; there, it was conceived as the resu lt of determ inistic forces:
heredity, environment, and attendant circum stances of life. Stephane
D eschantres1 solitude was due essentially to his na’ i'vete and timidity.
These qualities resulted from inherited weak health and early environ
m ental conditions. Leonard Clan's solitude was fostered by the contact
of the hereditary qualities of keen intelligence and sensitivity with an
environment which, while developing these qualities, fashioned them in
such a way that he was unable to adjust to other environm ents. Julien
D artot's solitude stem m ed from a feeling of inferiority because of in
herited ugliness and an early peasant environment.
Solitude, in the spiritualistic period, is conceived as a tra n
scendent reality im posed upon all men. It is not essentially derived
from heredity, environment, and attendant circum stances of life. It
stem s from the very nature of man.
In the spiritualistic novels, solitude is firs t conceived in term s
of the "secret life. " This phenomenon is defined and described in the
novel La vie secrh te. The "se c re t life" is the spiritual force which
rules the human soul and determ ines its destiny. Human beings expe
rience it as the love which they have for some activity or some person,
perhaps them selves. It rem ains unknown to others, for each person is
14
walled in by his own emotional and spiritual nature.
La vie secrbtel force redoutable qui rbgne au plus profond de
l'am e pour forger sa destinbe, m ais que nul n1 aper<;oit; car, en-
ferm b dans son dram e, chacun mbconnalt 1'autre. Tous les coeurs
sont m urbs. Les plus proches ne se dbcouvrent pas. Le m ystbre
nous baigne.
F o r a long period of time, it seem s that the "se c re t life" does not ex
ist; it is m asked by conventional behavior. Suddently it bursts forth,
upsetting the spiritual and emotional life of the individual. Exaltation
comes to those who forget them selves and give unstintedly to others.
Destruction is the punishment reserv ed for those who p e rsist in s triv
ing solely for personal gain.
Durant de longs jours, il semble que celle-ci [la vie secrbte]
n ’existe pas. On voit aussi durant des sibcles sur la surface unie
du globe des champs paisibles oh. l'hom m e laboure, ensem ence et
recolte: parce que le cycle des saisons y a commande toujours le
m em e cycle de travaux, ils sem blent b. l'ab ri. Soudain, pareille h
une chaudibre m al close, la te rre s 1 entr'ouvre, un cataclysm e bou-
leverse les securitbs seculaires et une contree neuve rem place
l'ancienne. Ainsi la vie secrbte, en silence, travaille le sol sacre
des ctmes. Longtemps masqube par la vie coutumibre, elle eclate,
renverse, sauve ou tue.
Revolution des coeurs que nul ne reconnait plus: tous sont ar-
raches par elle aux habitudes, aux lois, h . la rbgle. C 'est l'heure
unique oh. le Dieu passe, exalte qui lui rbpond et brise qui lui rb- ^
siste. . . . Tous ceux qui se donnent sont blus1 . Seul l'bgdi'sme tue.
To illustrate the m anner in which the "se c re t life" works, let
us examine the life of three of the characters of La vie se c rb te . They
are inhabitants of the village of Montaigut in the Haute-Garonne.
]y[lle Peyrolles was a wealthy m iddle-aged spinster. Outward
ly, she was austere and unyielding; inwardly, she was passionately a t
tached to h er struggling young nephew. He was the illegitim ate son of
her brother, who had been disowned. Although she had paid for p art of
13VS, pp. 406-407. 14Ibid. , p. 406.
her nephew's education, she had refused to have any contact with him.
Now he came to her as a doctor. He needed money for his tubercular
m istress, who was expecting a child. Although he loved the woman
deeply, he was too poor to m arry her. In order to help him financially
lie
and gain his affection, M Peyrolles had to overcome the jealousy she
felt toward the other woman and renounce her narrow religious and
moral views. After a struggle, she yielded to the call of her heart.
In helping him, she gained a joy which she had not hitherto enjoyed.
M. Taffin, the village priest, appeared benign and ingenuous.
His religious zeal was not excessive. Inwardly, he was tormented by
s olitude.
Ah! cette solitude cent fois pire que celle des plantes! Cette
solitude de fonctionnaire sans famille et qui va de famille en families
temoin d'office h chaque naissance et h chaque deuil, confident des
plaisirs d1 alcove et des epouvantes de mort! Cette solitude oh
chaque pas provoque le rappel aigu de ce qu'on desire eperdument
et de ce qu'on n'aura jamais'.-^
His loneliness was relieved by worshiping a local saint, whom he im
agined to be a beautiful woman pouring out her love to him. When a
noted hagiographer declared her unworthy of adoration, M. Taffin's
weak faith gave way completely. He determined to leave the priest
hood. Before he could carry out his decision, he was called to bring
spiritual comfort to his suffering parishioners. He became more
clearly aware of his responsibilities toward others. He decided to re
main a priest for the comfort that he could bring the afflicted.
M. Lethois, a middle-aged recluse, had spent years observing
the habits of ants. He had kept his research a secret, hoping to gain
16'
prestige and wealth when it was completed. But a fatal malady carried
him away before he could finish. The reward of his selfishness was
suffering and death.
The phenomenon of the "secret life" is interrelated with solitude
and suffering, which hold Estaunid1 s attention in later novels. Solitude
results from the passionate attachment of a person to an activity, or
more commonly, to a person whom he desires to possess completely.
P ierre Jauffrelin, the hero of "Les Jauffrelin, " loved his wife in such
a way.
Aimer n'est pas seulement se sentir souleve par le desir d'une
femme; ce n'est pas uniquement avoir 1'obsession de ses Ihvres et
la hantise de son corps: c'est poss£der les pensees qui fleurissent
en elle et les images de ses songes; c'est, la cherchant dans ses
yeux, s'y retrouver comme dans un m iroir sans cesser pourtant de
l'y apercevoir.lk
Such a possessive and selfish love made P ierre feel completely alone.
He saw his wife's face as an impenetrable mask concealing feelings and
thoughts which he would never know.
Depuis que j'ai vu le visage inconnu qui etait pourtant un visage
adore que je croyais connaitre, j'ai la certitude qu'au delh d'une
reality presente et qu'on posshde, il y en a d'autres en nombre in-
calcule et qu'on ne poss^dera pas. Oui, derrifere l'ame qui est mon
delice, dorment d'autres ames qui m'echappent. Nous avons 1'illu
sion de nous etreindre, nous ne nous etreindrons jamais dans la
plenitude du don, et ce ne sera ni la faute de mon appel ni celle de
sa bonne volonte. Pas plus elle que moi ne pourrions nous livrer en
entier: il faudrait pour cela etre sfirs de ce que nous sommes et
nous n'en avons m im e pas le soupgon.^
Some of Estaunid1 s characters are able to escape the anguish of
solitude. They must renounce possessive love and think only of giving.
S'il [l1 amour] fabrique du bonheur, ce n'est jamais pour lui, mais
seulement pour 1'autre. II ne prend rien: il donne tout. J'ai souvent
imagine qu'on pouvait aimer un §tre d£sesp£r£ment, sans presque
16Sol, p. 211.
17Ibid. , pp. 211-212.
17;
l'approcher, sans parfois qu'il le souptjonne. Qui sait si un grand
amour muet n'est pas la plus belle fleur qui ait jam ais par£ une
time humaine? Qui sait aussi quelle ivresse intime peut so rtir d'un
tel sacrifice oh rien n'a et£ sacrifi£ que soi-mSme
The love of M. Baslhvre, the protagonist of L'ascension de M. Bas-
lhvre, for Claire Gros was both spiritual and physical. Since Claire
was m arried to another, the physical expression of the love would have
been selfish and indecent. M. Baslhvre was able to overcome his
physical lust and his jealousy toward C laire's husband. He contented
himself with serving her. Since the love became entirely spiritual, it
could not be destroyed by death. Indeed, the demise of Claire released
her from her m arriage vows. Her soul and that of M. Baslhvre were
united forever. Her invisible presence accompanied him everywhere,
advising and directing.
Estaunie's characters all "suffer from solitude. It is one of the
essential conditions of life. Estaunie focuses his attention upon the
suffering caused by solitude in the novel L'appel de la route. Three
friends gathered in a cafe after the F irst World War. They discussed
the problem of suffering. One claimed that it was unjust; another in
sisted that it was incomprehensible; and the third asserted that it was
m erely not understood. In order to illustrate his contention, each
friend told a story. But the three stories concerned the same people
and the same happenings. Without knowing it, each had been witness
to a different phase of the same chain of events. The third story con
cluded with an exposition concerning the effect of suffering on human
lives: it detached people from the life which they knew and focused
18Bas, p. 181.
their attention upon the more important life beyond the grave.
P arce que la souffranee ddpouille, parce qu'elle parart injuste,
parce que rien surtout n'est capable ici-bas de rdparer ce qu'elle
engendre, fatalement, l'e tre ddtach.6 de lui-meme en appelle au de-
lh. Sans la souffrance, l'homme n'aurait jamais songd h l'im m or-
talit£. P ar la souffrance, il en acquiert le besoin et, brisant les
limites d'un present qui ne compte plus, projette son existence
veritable dans les regions de l'in fin i.^
Thus, suffering was the "call of the way. " It called the characters
from their egocentric te rre strial life to a greater spiritual life beyond.
In the spiritualistic period, destiny is a transcendent force,
logical and implacable. It is external, independent of the will and psy
chological proclivities of the characters. Yet it may work in conjunc
tion with the passions, guiding the individual toward the fulfillment of
his secret desires.
Noemi, one of the leading characters of Les choses voient,
kept the accounts of a middle-aged gentleman, M arcel Clerabault. She
lived in the house of her employer. Her desperate love for him was of
no avail; he had made up his mind to m arry another woman. Noemi
felt certain that something must exist which would change her disaster
to triumph. Following an idea which came to her mind, she took a pile
of letters out of the kitchen cupboard. They had been written by M.
Clerabault's deceased wife to her lover. Guided by a hunch, Noemi
examined them. Upon a sudden inspiration, she changed the date of
one of the letters. It then appeared as if it were addressed to M. .
Clerabault1 s present love, who had the same name as his wife.
Noemi1 s action, abetted by the invisible force of destiny, set off a
chain reaction of violence and death which was not expiated until the
19'
third generation.
Fate may also insinuate itself into the life of a character in di
rect opposition to his desires. Presentim ents foreshadow it. Jean
Pesnel, the protagonist of Le labyrinthe, struggled in vain to pay off
the debts of his father. A m iserly aunt died; since she had left no will,
her fortune went by default to Jean, the nearest relative. He repaid
the creditors joyously, satisfying his wounded pride. But he was un
easy in his aunt's mansion; he felt the presence of her hostile spirit.
One night, he looked through some books.
Une affreuse tristesse commenijait de s'insinuer en moi. T ris-
tesse ou sentiment confus que j'approchais de la chose? Tant de
fois nous avons le pressentim ent de l'avenir, mais n'en prenons
conscience qu1 aprbs, quand il est devenu l'intangible pass£.
His eyes were irresistibly drawn to a certain shelf, to a m issal placed
there. He opened it in order to look at the pictures. A folded piece of
paper fell out. He was going to put the paper back; instead he opened
it, without knowing why. It contained a brief holograph will written by
his aunt. She had left her entire fortune to her private maid, Alice de
Vaubajour. Jean told no one of his discovery, but went to see the
maid. Finding her beautiful in spirit as well as in body, he m arried
her and gave her the legal right to his wealth. In this way, he hoped to
assuage his guilty conscience. But the deep love that the two shared
was m arred by Jean's selfish calculation. Although he eventually told
Alice of the existence of the will, he could not efface the suspicions
which he had aroused in trying to keep the truth from her. The two
lovers wandered in a perpetual labyrinth of anxiety and doubts.
20Lab, pp. 57-58.
20
The past is a spiritual force, just as destiny. It resurges in
the lives of the ch aracters to establish justice where injustice has been
committed, and to bring retribution to those who have done wrong.
Noemi P eyrolles' brother, O scar, had left home to lead a dissolute
life. One day he returned to announce that his m istre ss had just given
birth to a boy. He wanted to m a rry h er and legitim ize the child. The
father refused to p erm it the m arriag e. O scar left again; shortly a fte r
ward, he died. Although M. P eyrolles refused to succor the m other
and child, M ^ e Peyrolles sent money secretly. As the years went by,
she continued to send money for the board, room, and education of
M arc, her illegitim ate nephew. She never perm itted him, however, to
visit her. When he was able, he earned his own living. By dint of
hard work and persisten t effort, he becam e a doctor. He fell in love,
but he was too poor to m a rry . His m istre ss became pregnant and con
tracted tuberculosis. He appealed to his aunt for aid. She was now a
lonely m iddle-aged spinster who craved his constant presence. Yet
her m oral and religious scruples would not perm it her to help him.
IIs [M '* ""''6 Peyrolles et Marc] s'etaient lev£s. Ils criaient: le
passe! En m im e tem ps, ils tendaient les poings vers lui, comme
s'il venait d'entrer; et c'etait vrai qu'il £tait lh, t£moin tragique re-
venu h vingt ans de distance et sans changement. E tait-ce M arc ou
son phre qui revendiquait ainsi la liberty d'epouser sa m aStresse?
Eequel des deux invoquait ici le droit de 1'enfant? Rien n'avait
change, ni la pifece oh ils parlaient, ni le costume noir de M ^ e P ey
rolles, ni m em e les personnages: celle-ci a peine blanchie, M arc
si p areil au moTt qu'il sem blait celui-ci rajeuni.
lie
F rem issante, M P eyrolles retom ba sur sa chaise. Qu'il y
eht dans ce retour une justice souveraine, qu'aprbs avoir tant fait
souffrir, elle souffrit h son tour par les m em es moyens, cela ne la
frappait p a s.2^
21 VS, p. 263.
21
M ^e Peyrolles had to sacrifice her m oral convictions and acknowledge
in her heart the injustice of her form er attitude. Only by doing this
and by giving her nephew the money which he needed did she gain the
peace and joy which she craved.
As we have seen, the spiritualistic novels presuppose the ex
istence of spiritual phenomena which impinge upon the lives of the
characters without depriving them of free will. M ^e Peyrolles and M.
Baslhvre freely chose to sacrifice themselves for the benefit of others,
just as M. Lethois and P ie rre Jauffrelin deliberately chose to rem ain
selfish. The actions of the characters are rewarded or punished ac
cording to transcendent spiritual laws.
CHAPTER III
ENUMERATION AND CLASSIFICATION OF THE ASPECTS
OF NATURE DESCRIBED AND OF THE MANNER
IN WHICH THEY ARE DESCRIBED
The Place and Role of Nature
The place which nature occupies in the novels, novelettes, and
short stories of Estaunie is circum scribed and episodic. Each land
scape is confined to a few paragraphs and is separated from the other
descriptions of nature by a number of pages.
In Un sim ple, ^ the first description of nature does not occur un
til the beginning of the second chapter. The first chapter is devoted to
the portrait of Stephane Deschantres, the protagonist, of Mme Des-
chantres, his mother, and of M. Mouillac, his tutor, as well as the
description of the Toulouse environment in which Stephane lived.
At the beginning of the second chapter, Stephane is walking
with his tutor through the streets. The description of the rain storm
is only two paragraphs in length. The downpour is aggressive and a t
tacks the hapless youth with fury. His reaction toward it is the same
as his reaction has been toward life. He stoops to bear its onslaught.
Ce matin-1^., il pleuvait, pluie chaude k odeur fade. Dans la
rue, des ruisseaux jaunes sautant sur les pavds pointus: l'eau tom-
bait, giclant, dclaboussant, faisant tordre la boue gluante, et cela
^Estaunie's first published novel. It appeared in 1891.
22
23
montait, montait . . . II semblait que jam ais 1'averse ne finirait, que
le ciel entier crevait sur la ville ou qu'un grand fleuve fourvoyb bat-
tait la berge des maisons.
Le dos courbb sous l'averse, le parapluie secoue k chaque coup
de vent s 1 engouffrant dans les arbres, Stephane Deschantres des-
cendait les allies Saint-Michel avec M. Mouillac.^
3
The first chapter of L' epave contains the narration of the a r
rival of Therbse Wimereux and her servant, Melanie, in the Languedo-
cian village of Saint-Julia and the description of Therbse's house,
which she has not seen for twenty years. The first description of na
ture, a paragraph long, is found on the second page of the first chapter.
The next description, likewise only a paragraph in length, occurs
three pages later. Both depict the wind blowing with fury on the lonely
pair, who have sought refuge from the storm s of life in Saint-Julia.
Le vent d1 autan soufflait. Des vols de poussibre etaient soul-
eves k chaque redoublement; les feuilles des platanes claquaient
sans a rre t sous la rafale. On aurait cru qu'un second train etait
gare dans la cour d'arrivee.^
Tout k coup, le vent qui balayait le sol de son haleine puissante
s'engouffra dans ses jupes [celles de Melanie]. Elle ne put
achever. ^
The first chapter of La vie secrbte^ contains the portrait of
He
three of the principal characters, M Peyrolles, M. Lethois, and
lie
1'abbe Taffin, the description of M Peyrolles' house and garden, and
the narration of the commonplace events of a Thursday evening whist
game in which the three characters participated. A brief paragraph on
page two describes the view from M ^e Peyrolles' dining room.
^Sim, p. 15. ^F irst published in 1901.
^Ep, p. 2. ^Ibid. , p. 5.
^F irst published in 1908.
14
C'£tait le soir. Devant la porte, des lauriers en pot dres-
saient leurs panaches roses sans qu'aucune de leurs feuilles bou-
geSt. De mSme, au delh du jardin, les orm es de la route somno-
laient, immobiles, accabl^s par la chaleur to rrid e.'
The immobility of nature on this hot sum m er evening harmonizes with
lie
the rigidity of M Peyrolles' character and the severity of the furn
ishings of her dining room. A brief paragraph on page three delineates
the beauty of the plain of Revel, to which M ^e Peyrolles is indiffer-
ent. A paragraph on page eight mentions the mournful calm which
perm eates the air, blending with the sterile monotony of the lives of
9
the characters.
The first chapter of L1 ascension de M. Baslhvre^ contains a
portrait of Justin Baslfevre, the protagonist, a description of his
apartment at 16 Rue de Bearn, Place des Vosges, P aris, and the n a r
ration of an interview which took place between Baslhvre and a child
hood friend, Gustave Gros, on May 7, 1909. Two paragraphs are de
voted to the description of the view from M. Baslbvre's apartment.
La chambre h louer n'etait, en effet, qu'une m ansarde, mais
elle prenait jour par une croisee monumentale sur le comble en ar-
doise de l'un des palais de la place des Vosges. En bas, gisaient le
square, le kiosque et 1' enceinte de m urs roses juch£s sur des
p ilie rs.
Justin Baslhvre saisit-il la grandeur et I'ordonnance somptueuse
d'un pareil horizon? II est plus probable qu'ayant quitt£ Limoges la
veille, ce qui le frappa surtout fut 1' atmosphhre de province, l'a ir
de vieille ville abandonee et le calme du ddcor 6 t a l 6 sous ses yeux.
On entendait distinctement des oiseaux chanter. II apergut aussi de
l'herbe entre les pav£s. Bref, il se crut, par un jeu de fderie, r e
tire d'un P aris qui 1'etourdissait et replonge dans le m ilieu qu'il
venait d'abandonner sans espoir de retour.
The provincial peace and the appearance of abandonment of the Place
7 VS, p. 2. 8Ibid. , p. 3. 9Ibid. , p. 8 .
^ F i r s t published in 1919. ^A B , pp. 4-5.
25
des Vosges appealed to the introverted M. Baslbvre, who sought tran
quillity and seclusion. The pavement sprouting weeds, the dilapidated
benches, and the thin trees of the square lent a melancholy, mournful
12
peace to the scene. It harmonized with the protagonist's pensive,
melancholy disposition.
13
The first chapter of Madame Clapain presents a portrait of
the Cadifon sisters, Ursule and Ida, a description of the house which
they owned in Langres, and the narration of the events of their life
which led up to their accepting a boarder, Madame Clapain. The first
description of nature does not occur until the beginning of the fourth
chapter. A long paragraph describes the fatal morning of April 3,
1921, in which Madame Clapain received the caller whose visit re
sulted in her suicide. The gaiety of nature was in violent contrast to
the tragic events which were about to unfold.
II est rare que la nature se mette en concordance avec les
evenements qui nous int£ressent. Au matin du 3 avril, la maison
Brochard s'eveilla sous un ciel clair et devant une eglise ensoleillee.
Certaines lumi&res de printemps sont une irresistible invite au voy
age. II suffit de les apercevoir en ouvrant son volet, pour souhaiter
courir la campagne. Ursule partit ainsi allhgrement pour sa course
aux provisions. Mme Clapain, surmontant sa crainte des courants
d'air, laissa sa fenetre entreb§ill£e. Ida, elle-meme, s'^tant mise
en toilette, se dirigea vers la Porte Neuve et les Remparts.
Vers onze heures, tandis que la maison Brochard, vide de ses
deux propri£taires, continuait de bSiller beatement au soleil, un
Stranger parut sur la place et y erra, cherchant en vain h qui
s'ad resser pour obtenir un renseignem ent.^
Nature does not have its own independent life, but it
12Ibid. , p. 3.
13
F irst published during the years 1931 and 1932.
^^MC, pp. 39"40.
26
participates in the life of each novel as a whole. It is a sensual and an
emotional experience for the characters. It is a force acting contrary
to the romanesque. (The efforts that the characters make to escape
from solitude constitute the romanesque. Nature, as we shall see,
often increases the solitude of the characters. ) It is a background
against which the characters move and the events of the story take
place. It also has a symbolic value.
Nature as a sensual and an emotional experience is illustrated
15
by the description of the sum m er rain storm in Un simple and by the
description of the wind storm in L1 epave. ^ The warm sum m er rain
has a musty odor. The yellow stream s which it forms in the streets
jump up onto the pointed paving stones. The falling water splashes,
bespatters, and twists the slimy mud. The senses and emotions are
affected in an unpleasant manner. The rain makes the streets dirty; it
has a disagreeable odor. Nature seem s hostile to the protagonist,
Stephane Deschantres. The downpour causes him to stoop over under
his umbrella. The wind which assails Therbse Wimereux and Mblanie
as they arrive in the village of Saint-Julia is likewise disagreeable to
the senses and to the emotions. Clouds of dust are raised with each
gust of wind. The leaves of the plane trees clack together. The hos-
r tile air rushes through M elanie's skirts and prevents her from finish
ing what she is saying.
In the examples which we have given, we note that nature often
accentuates the solitude of the characters. It may be aggressive and
hostile, as we observed in the preceding paragraph. It may be
*^Supra, pp. 22-23. ^^Supra, p. 23.
27
immobile and mournfully calm, as in the opening pages of La vie se-
17
crhte. It may have the appearance of abandonment, as in the descrip-
18
tion of la Place des Vosges in L1 ascension de M. Baslhvre. Or, as
in the fourth chapter of Madame Clapain, it may present a gay mood
which is in disharmony with the seriousness of the events which are to
unfold. ^
Nature is a backdrop against which the events of the story take
place. The citations given in this chapter have been descriptions of
natural phenomena or scenery lying in, or adjacent to, cities, towns,
and villages. It is here, or in the inhabited rural areas of France,
that the action of the novels unfolds. The landscapes lend a dimension
of objectivity and concreteness to the psychological or spiritual drama
20
which forms the basis of each work.
Nature is also a symbol. The rain storm in Un simple and the
wind storm in L1 epave are symbols of the adverse forces of life bear
ing down vehemently upon the characters.
Nature does not play as important a role in the novels, novel
ettes, and short stories of Estaunid as solitude and destiny, although,
21
as we have noted, nature is utilized to reinforce solitude. Nature is
a significant element in Estaunie's novelistic art because of its use
both as a subjective and as an objective force. As a subjective force,
it provides a sensual and an emotional experience for the characters.
^ S u p ra, pp. 23-24. ^ S u p ra, pp. 24-25. ^ S u p ra , p. 25.
20
John Charpentier, Estauni€ (Paris: Firmin-Didot, 1932),
p. 38.
^ ^Supra, pp. 26-27.
28
As an objective force, it lends a dimension of realism and concrete
ness to the psychological and spiritual dramas which unfold.
Nature is more prominent in the works of the naturalistic p eri
od than in those of the spiritualistic period. In the naturalistic period,
Estauni£ was more concerned with the external world, particularly
with the environment and the heredity of his characters. When he
turned to the spiritual world, he painted fewer landscapes. Those he
did paint were briefer, less detailed, a.nd less concrete than those of
the naturalistic period.
Enumeration and Classification of the
Natural Phenomena Described
Landscapes
The geographical area described in the novels, novelettes, and
short stories is limited almost exclusively to France. Landscapes of
Languedoc are the most common; they are found in Un simple, Bonne-
22
Dame, L 1 epave, La vie secrbte, Le silence dans la campagne, and
L'infirme aux mains de lumifere. Landscapes of Burgundy are second
in numerical importance. They are included in "Mademoiselle Gauche^"
"M. Champ el, " and L'appel de la route. Landscapes of P aris figure in
Bonne-Dame, L1 empreinte, Le ferm ent, and L'ascension de M. Bas-
lhvre. Other regions of France are described in only one work each:
Chciteaudun, in the E ure-et-Loir, in Bonne-Dame; Nevers, in the
Nihvre, in L1 empreinte; Dauphin^ in Le cas de Jean Bunant; Bordeaux
in L'infirme aux mains de lumifere; the Haute-Loire in Le labyrinthe;
22
The short story, published in 1913, and not the collection of
short works published in 1926.
29
and the Haute-Marne in Madame Clapain. Two short works, Pages
roumaines and L1 invisible, contain landscapes of Roumania. P art of
Le ferment transpires in Belgium. The setting of "Les Jauffrelin" is
laid in Switzerland, along the banks of Lake Geneva.
Among the 334 landscapes which figure in the literary works,
seven main types stand out. The most frequently recurring type is
that of fertile plains; sixty-three landscapes belong to this category.
Fifty-seven landscapes are of sem i-arid terrain which is often hilly.
Fifty-six are of town or city streets. Twenty-six are of gardens or
parks. Twenty-three are of rivers or lakes. Sixteen are of mountains.
Among the landscapes of fertile fields, we find a description of
the plain of Belpech, in the department of the Aude.
A leurs pieds, enfin, l'autre versant s'btalait: la plaine de Bel
pech feuillee, ombreuse, sillonnee de rivibres qui la plaquaient de
lames d'argent, fouillis de prairies, de remeils assombris, de
saulaies fourmillantes. Au-dessus, les peupliers m iroitant sous la
lumibre avaient un balancement de longs panaches . . . Au loin des
buees se fondaient en trainees alanguies, les toitures des maisons
pointillant de rouge les m assifs avaient l'a ir de nids dans les
branches, les sols refletant les rayons paraissaient des bijoux d'or
poses sur du velours; et de partout une harmonie montait, murmures
d'arbres, frissonnement d'eau, halbtement de la terre rafraichie et
rayonnante, souverainement paisible et belle sous l'etreinte du
soleil.
The plain of Montauban, in the Tarn-et-Garonne, is depicted.
Red belfries soar up toward the sky, houses are piled in the distance
in a nest of greenery, and sad bouquets of bare plane trees are seen.
The plain is intersected by hedges, grape vines with black stocks, and
meadows which are shaded by gigantic elms. The buds are already
24
putting violet tints upon the sleeping woods.
^ S im , pp. 61-62.
24BD, p. 109.
30
A ride along the Aveyron river, near Montauban, is described.
It is a radiant afternoon. The blue sky, where clouds rarely pass,
stretches away at an infinite distance. F resh greenery is displayed
along the roadway, in the fields, on the branches of thickets, on the
oaks, and on the poplars. The trees are dressed in the light attire of
new buds. When the breeze passes, the odor of bouquets permeates
the air. In the distance, the hills of the Aveyron are covered with
shadows caressing the eyes. Because of the freshness of the air, of
the leafy elders, and of the m ore singing elms, water is inferred to be
close by. From this great rebirth of life, which spreads a mysterious
25
m urm ur on the horizon, a great serenity arises.
A landscape in the Haute-Loire, near Brioude, is painted. Al
ders and poplars are growing upon an expanse of land. The Allier riv
er is prowling peacefully under a green vault. In the distance, villages
crown denticulated hills. An immense joy emanates from innumerable
orchards ,2^
A landscape of Alpine flowers is presented.
Au delh de la Romanche, h terre, un tapis d1 Orient s'etalait,
feerique. L'herbe moiree etait constellee de gentianes bleues, de
soldanelles et de pensees. Un peu plus loin, suivant sa ligne hu-
mide, un ruisseau de narcisses. Et c'dtait partout des encolies au
visage pervers, des anemones enveloppees dans un manteau de pe-
luche, des renoncules dressant trhs haut leurs boules d'or sur un
col mince, une fr^nesie de plantes, une ivresse de p arfu m .^
Among the landscapes of hilly, sem i-arid country, we find that
of the area lying between Toulouse and Belpech. In the summer,
earth-colored stems of flowerless broom dot the soil. Villages lie in
25Ibid. , pp. 142-143.
27SC-CB, p. 73.
26Lab, p. 83.
the corners of the valleys, amidst pruned grapevines whose black
2 8
stocks seem twisted by pain. As one advances toward Belpech, the
terrain becomes m ore rugged. The fields of gravel and ochre soil go
down hill sharply. Separated by long distances are uncultivated places
and wild juniper trees prickling with needles. In the corners of the
valleys, dwarfed fig trees hold out their black leaves in the wind. As
the road mounts, under the bluish sky where transparent vapors float,
undulating reddish hills speckled with villages stretch out as far as the
eye can see. An immense vegetation seem s to lie dormant beneath the
soil; the earth is sprawled out, intoxicated by the sunlight and swollen
in order to receive m ore rays. The wind blows strongly, making the
soil vibrate with a whistling which passes from dull scales to shrill
sonorities
Between Revel and Saint-Julia, in the Haute-Garonne, a flat ex
panse of land stretches out, broken by a hill whose ridge is monotonous
ly uniform. The sun stream s down and the wind blows dust all about.
Corn is seen everywhere with tousled hair and twisted arm -like leaves.
Freshly pruned willows, separated from each other by long distances,
raise their wounded heads as if to inspect the dwarfed corn with thou
sands of e y e s .^
Another landscape, further along the road to Saint-Julia, con
tains hills which resem ble waves rolling on to Toulouse. Instead of
ships, the land carries villages. The villages nearby raise the thin
m ast of a bell tower above their keel; the villages in the distance are
32!
dark points dimly perceived floating on the enormous surface of the
earth. ^
A plateau in the Haute-Loire is depicted as a swell of ripe b a r
ley and wheat whose waves are ready to beat against the reef formed by
distant mountains. On the left, like a grass snake, the sad M argeride
river rushes away, nearly level with the sky. In spite of the opulent
harvests, an im pression of harshness emanates from this soil, swept
32
by the wind and prisoner of the mountains.
A barren landscape in the Haute-Marne, near Blaizot, is an
immense expanse of fields upon which no vegetation is growing and no
human habitation is visible. The sky is so low that it threatens to col
lapse because of lack of props. There are sudden gusts of harsh wind.
A straight road undulates with the soil toward a horizon that falls back
33
with each step taken forward.
Among the landscapes of town or city streets, we note one of
Toulouse on a bright summer day.
Des lumibres crues etaient jetees partout, du bleu sur le ciel, des
rouges sur les maisons, des verts jaunissants sur les branches
d'arbres qui, dans les rues btroites, debordaient des vieilles cours
d^hotel. Tout le long des chaussees, les bariolures brunes, vertes,
noires des tentes de magasins s'agitaient avec un bruit doux de dra-
peaux qui flottent; et lb-dessous, un tumulte de gens se prolongeait
en longues trainees bruyantes.
The trees which decorate the streets of Revel, in the Haute-
Garonne, are depicted. The Avenue de la Gare is planted with thin
acacias whose shadow is spread out over a large area of ground. The
thick clump of plane trees which decorate the Boulevard de la
3 1 Ibid. , pp. 13-14.
33MC, pp. 179-180.
32Lab, p. 125.
34Sim, p. 36.
33
Republique forms a cathedral of shade. The leaves of the plane trees
•2 C
produce a rattling sound when their glazing rubs together.
Never s, in the Nihvre, is painted at night. The trees of the
gardens extend their branches above the walls to inspect a procession
of school boys passing in the streets. The stars decorate the scene
36
with fairy lanterns. The Loire encircles the city with a silver arc.
The moon makes the gargoyles of a church stand out in profile, peo-
37
pling the air with phantoms.
Bordeaux is described just before a storm.
II me souvient que c'etait une journee telle qu'on en voit trop sou-
vent h Bordeaux oh le ciel gonfle de pluies s'acharne h 6teindre les
couleurs. Les enseignes criardes, les devantures tachees de boue,
le pave suintant, tout alors s'unifie dans la meme grisaille et pue le
terreau. La pierre des fagades se plombe comme un visage de m a-
lade. La Gironde roule de la boue et les bateaux immobiles ont
I1 air d' epaves qui achhvent de pourrir h 1’ abandon.^®
Paris is painted in the fog. The descending cloud snuffs out the
lights, deadens the sounds, and causes all visible objects to vanish.
The sky has the appearance of a phantom. The veil of fog is thicker
near the Seine. The walls of the buildings seem light and ready to rise
and float, like boats, upon the surface of the clouds. Suddenly the
ground disappears. The houses vanish on all sides. There is only an
39
ocean of emptiness. 7
Among the landscapes of gardens and parks, we find the de
scription of a partially denuded area of land near Belpech.
Alors, trhs lentement, ils suivirent une des allees qui descen-
dait vers le bas avec des sinuosites d'€criture anglaise, et il ne
fallut rien laisser passer, ni les m assifs de lauriers, ni les
35VS, p. 100. 36Emp, pp. 98-99.
37Ibid. , p. 115. 38SC-IL, p. 216. 39Emp, p. 241.
34'
magnolias dont la gla<;ure des feuilles disparaissait sous la pous-
sifere, ni les sapins, ni les cadres, car dans le ddfrichement, par
une vanit£ de possesseur, pour laisser la trace inddniable des
splendeurs effac^es, on avait conserve un specimen de chaque ar-
buste rare. En deux ou trois endroits seulement oh la terre avait
ete reconnue moins bonne ou trop en pente, des bosquets dtaient
rest£s, qroisant leurs branches au-dessus du passage. A ces
heures du soir, une senteur refraichie dormait sous leur ombre, et
quant on y passait, jetait sur les £paules un manteau de froid hu-
mide. Dans le vallon, comme on I1 avait baptise, ils trouvhrent
l'£tang, flaque verte en forme de poire oh l'eau avait disparu sous
des joncs, pouss£s en foret dans une rage de reproduction. Au tra-
vers, le chant m^lancolique des rainettes s'elevait semblable h un
echo repercute indefiniment, cependant que des grincements de
grillons commengaient h sourdre dans l'herbe comme une reponse h
ces appels. Berc^e par la monotonie des chants d'insectes, la
terre s'endormait, et sous 1' eclairement pSle de l'horizon les
teintes virant au noir avaient des miroitements de velours.40
A provincial cemetery is depicted in April. Rose-colored
graminaceae border the pathways; mountain heather gaily shake their
brown bell-shaped flowers. Here and there white violets with pale,
sad faces stretch out their long necks in a curious fashion at the edge
of the pathways. Deep green yew trees and Italian poplars covered
with a mourning dress of black and silver bark sway gently in the
breeze. Everything rustles and shivers under the delicious rain of
morning sunbeams. The thickets are filled with warmth, birds, and
pleasant surprises. Above the walls, the branches of oaks, poplars,
birches, and firs intermingle. Tranquillity reigns. Everything is
alive and vibrating. As if in irony, the broken columns of the graves
and the Greek urns make one think of some English park decorated
■ 41
w ith, r u in s .
In an autumn garden, one sees a festival bouquet fragrant with
sunshine. The leaves of the trees are already wrinkling at the end of
40
Sim, pp. 76-77. 41CP, p. 581.
35
the branches, like little gold drops. On the horizon, wide, caressing
trails of gray reek sleep. In passing through the garden, one has a de
licious vision of half-burned vegetation, rust-colored hawthorn, and
flowers that have fainted. Along the pathways, the houseleek, radishes,
and wild oats with gently curved shapes invade the gravel, opening up
42
in all directions.
Among the landscapes of rivers and lakes, we find two of the
Vic-Sibge, in the Aude. A pathway covered with brushwood runs
through long, undulating graminaceae and follows the Vic-Si&ge under
the cover of poplars. From Belpech to the Hers river, the horizons
disappear, hidden by the steep banks. A thick mass of branches
stands out against the sky: pruned willows and elms turning yellow.
The water has a placid surface, broken at long distances by arrises of
minute rocks whose streaming backs look from a distance like forgot-
43
ten marble torsoes.
At the point where the Vic-Sibge and the Hers come together,
the former is noisy, with foaming silver eddies, while the latter is al
most silent, making dull splashing sounds at widely separated inter
vals. Under the rays of the moon, the two rivers form a Y which
44
gleams like a steel sword.
A landscape of Lake Geneva presents the blue water under a
milky sky. On the bank is heard the calm, caressing sound of the mov
ing lip of water kissing the gravel. The Jura Mountains, bedecked
with mist, are not visible. Mews are flying about. Each beat of their
wings in the golden air of sunset is reflected by a glow on one of the
4 2 43 44
BD, p. 49. Sim, p. 88. Ibid. , p. 233.
36
waves. When no birds are around, the waves regain their uniform
light. 4^
Among the landscapes of mountains, the Meije, a peak in the
French Alps, is described in the greatest detail. Its form is compared
to the architecture of a sumptuous building.
Cela commengait au torrent mSme, par une embase de pr£s
verts ondes en coquille comme le pied d'un flambeau italien. Au-
dessus des pr£s, une digue d'escarpements violets formait la se-
conde marche pr£cedant le vrai seuil: et 1'edifice ensuite s'^levait.
D'abord, une coloss ale m uraille de granit gris dont la cr§te s'£va-
sait au milieu; puis une toiture de glaces, terminee aux deux cornes
faitihres par des rang£es d'aiguilles sombres; enfin, au-dessus,
une crete noire et, sur la droite, en guise de clocher, une pyramide
perdue vers le ciel: la Meije.
Another landscape describes the Pyrenees as seen from Saint-
Julia, in the Haute-Garonne. The crest of Saint-Felix, separated
from Saint-Julia by a fault, is ink black. It juts up from the plain of
Revel like a spur, pushing back the vegetation which is spreading out
beyond it in an immense sheet. Behind Saint-Felix, the Pyrenees are
seen covered with sparkling, bubbling snow. High and cut into long
pieces, they flee toward the ocean, rounding their brows under the
purple rain of the setting sun. On the left, they rise in tiers, bounding
47
up toward the sky.
A mountainous landscape at Blaizot, in the Haute-Marne, is de
picted. A narrow plain lies at the bottom of a precipice. Opposite, on
steep slopes, is the mournful spectacle of pine woods. Above is a
circle of rocks. Above that, the houses of Blaizot are aligned as sen-
48
tmels. Looking down on the whole scene are battling clouds.
45Sol, p. 169. 46SC-CB, p. 63. 47Eg, pp. 94-95.
48MC, pp. 162-163.
37
Plants
The trees, plants, and flowers which figure in the landscapes
are limited to the common varieties. Poplars, elms, oaks, plane
trees, willows, figs, juniper trees, cedars, firs, cypresses, yews,
49
and pines are described or mentioned. They dot the plains, decorate
gardens and p a rk s,^ border river banks, roads, and streets,^ and
52
stand out in relief against slopes.
Grain-bearing or fruit-bearing plants figure in a number of
53 54 55
landscapes. They include: corn, w heat/ barley, and the grape
56 57 58
vine. Other plants mentioned or described are broom, mint, and
59
clover.
Common garden flowers or plants adorn many landscapes.
^ Sim, p. 58; ibid. , p. 60; BD, p. 20; ibid. , pp. 109, 142, 147;
VS, p. 18.
~^Sim, p. 76; Emp, p. 302; CP, p. 580; Ep, p. 124; VS, p.
189; SC-IL, p. 263.
8 *Sim, p. 19; ibid. , pp. 55, 88; BD, p. 38; ibid. , pp. 143,
148; VS, p. 2; ibid. , ~p. 100; MC, p. 140.
52Sim, p. 59; SC-CB, p. 96; MC, p. 163; ibid. , p. 253.
53V S> p. 118; SC-SC, p. 6 .
54BD, p. 13; Lab, p. 125. 55Ibid.
56Sim, p. 56; BD, p. 109; SC-Dec, p. 174.
5^Sim, p. 56; VS, p. 21; ibid. , pp. 55, 122, 319, 379; Lab, p.
232.
58Ep, p. 177; VS, p. 55; ibid. , p. 338; SC-SC, p. 7.
59Ep, p. 177.
38
Among them are the w isteria, 80 the laurel,81 the hollyhock, 82 the wild
r o s e ,^ the hawthorn, 84 the geranium, 88 the dahlia, 88 the daisy, 87 the
sun flower,8® the pansy, 89 the violet,70 the n a rc issu s,^ the anem one,^
7 3 74 75
the gentian, the peony, and the convolvulus.
Trees, plants, and flowers are frequently endowed with the
characteristics of human beings. A fig tree advances its curious
7 6
head. An isolated poplar, raising its naked arms in supplication,
77
seems to say: "Why have they stripped us bare?" A motionless
7 8
daisy, with eye wide open, smiles. A red geranium lowers its flow
ers to greet the morning air, then straightens up, jealous of the odors
79
being wafted through the air.
Anim al s
Only a relatively small number of animals are described or
6Q BD, p. 184; SC-PR, p. 155; VS, p. 55
8 l Emp, p. 302.
84SC-PR, p. 155.
VS, p. 189. 63Ep, p. 24.
ZZZH X L* ir • J
66SC-PR, p. 155.
69SC-CB, p. 7 3.
7 2Ibid.
7 5SC-PR, p. 155
78CP, p. 580.
55. 65Emp, p. 302; SC-PR, p. 155; VS, p.
67CP, p. 580. 68SC-PR, p. 155.
71SC-CB, p. 73. 70CP, p. 58.
7 3lbid. 74Sol, p. 174.
76VS, p. 18.
79VS, p. 55.
?7AR, p. 284.
39
mentioned. They include: barnyard fo w l,^ cattle,®'*' dogs,®^ frogs,®8
84 85 86
sparrows, swallows, and crickets. They participate in the joy of
all nature during the warm, fertile months.
Un troupeau d'oies se sauva devant 1'Equipage avec un d£ploie-
ment d'ailes, un chien de troupeau h poil fauve aboya furieusement.
Un effroi dans la basse-cour y repondit. Tout un tumulte de cris
discordants partait de recoins invisibles, chantant la bienvenue de
la ferme; et leur voyage semblait finir ainsi par une fSte de soleil,
de verdure, de chansons; on edt dit la podsie de la terre accourue
pour les f§ter et un enchantement d'esp^rance ineffable s'£levant de
partout, tant les m ishres de nos vies humaines auraient paru faire
tache sur la joie universelle.8^
Seasons
Among the 334 landscapes which are included in the literary
works of Estaunie, 262 are devoted to the spring and summer months,
thirty-eight to the winter months, and thirty-four to the fall. The e a r
ly spring is described in term s of tender, sprouting buds, soft light,
88
and delicate perfumes. The Luxembourg Garden in P aris is depicted
in the following way:
Autour de lui, une foret d1 arbres greles bourgeonnait avec de
mauves tendres. La sfeve fraiche glagait les ecorces ridees. Le
soleil, glissant h travers les ondulations des branches, dorait
l£ghrement les fourr£s violets. Plus loin l'eau du bassin refletait,
80Sim,
P-
65; ibid. , pp. 67, 244; Ep, pp. 89-90; ibid. , £
81s u m ,
P-
22; VS, p. 246.
82Sim,
P-
67; VS, p. 55; SC-SC, p. 6.
83Sim,
P-
77; VS, p. 19; ibid. , p. 403.
84s u m ,
P-
22; Sim, p. 58; BD, p. 90; Emp, p. 205; VS,
85Sim,
P-
150; VS, p. 55.
86s u m ,
P-
22; Sim, p. 77; VS, p. 15; ibid. ,
pp. 19, 140
87Sim,
P-
67. ®®BD, pp. 81-82; ibid. , p. 142.
40
im mobile, son cercle de m a rb re et d e rrib re l'allbe des platanes,
qui frissonnalent sous leurs robes d'bcorces, le palais triste ap-
p a ra iss a it.®9
The late spring and the sum m er are painted in term s of bloom
ing plants, w arm sunrays, perfum ed frag ran ces, birds' songs, and
90
bright colors. Everyw here is life, force, and fecundity. The plants
91
shiver with voluptuous pleasure. The sounds of nature blend into a
symphony of joy.
Elle [la voiture] roulaitl et autour d* elle c'btait le printem ps
qui so rtait enfin des choses, de la te rre rbveillee, des plantes
frissonnant de joie. Le printem ps se devinait h je ne sais quels
bruits indistincts courant dans la tiedeur de l'a ir et rbpercutbs b.
l'infini, chant des taillis en fete, de la sbve montante, des parfum s
fralchem ent exhales. M aintenant d e rrib re une ligne de hauts peu-
pliers qui secouaient leurs baguettes noires sous la brise, l'Avey-
r o n ^ se devinait prenant sa p art du concert ensoleille.9
The w inter landscapes depict vast expanses of snow -covered
94 . 95 96
land, fierce winds, twirling snowflakes, silence, and invisibili-
97
ty. Som berness and m elancholy often perm eate the air.
O les lointaines btendues de la Beauce qu'un linceul de neige
enveloppel Dans la campagne, le long des routes droites, les peu-
pliers dessinent leu rs form es som bres sur les profondeurs du ciel
en deuil, et je ne sais quoi d 'ecrasan t semble descendu sur les
§mes. Tout est silencieux, d'une tris te s s e sans rem bde.9®
Typical elements of an autumn landscape are a peaceful garden
^ Em p, pp. 207-208.
99Sim , p. 36; BD, pp. 89~90; ibid. , p. 298; Em p, p. 253; Ep,
pp. 167-169.
91Sim , p. 278; BD, p. 164.
92A riv er of the T arn-et-G aronne. 9 8Ibid. , p. 147.
9^Emp, p. 334. 95Sol, p. 51; ibid. , p. 239-
9 ^BD, p. 100; F e r , p. 110. 9 ^Em p, p. 326; F e r , p. 106.
9 8 BD, p. 211.
41
or park, trees adorned with red and gold leaves, the cries of birds,
99
foliage rustling in the breeze, and fragrant odors.
Li1 aprhs-m idi, Bonne-Dame n'eprouve plus le ddsir de sortir.
Le jardin est lh, encore fleuri, tout embaum£ par les senteurs
d'automne. Comme il y fait bon'. Desorm ais elle s'y installe, . . .
berc£e par le m urm ure des feuillages qui trem blent, des oiseaux
qui volent avec des cris lagers. . . . Sans doute, elle n1 a point de
po£sie dans l'Sme, m ais tant de paix 1' extasie, et voici qu'h longues
reprises ses yeux se ferment, sa tete dessine des salutations aux
volets d'en face.
Sometimes a melancholy note is lent to an autumn landscape by dust
and strong gusts of wind.^*“ * ^
The Beauce is depicted in the sum m er, autumn, and winter.
The effect of each season upon this area of land is noted. The contrast
afforded is intense.
L'ete, tout cela etait vert de m oissons et de bles qui m oiraient
des brises h peine perceptibles. Pas d'arb res, mais une vegetation
prodigieusement touffue. Puis peu h peu, avec les jours, le vert se
faisait dore, puis jaune, jaune rouge, et soudain h la place de la
fertilite surprenante, un ocdan de te rre s nues et desoldes apparais-
sait. Les moissons faites, l'hiver venu, on eut dit des espaces in-
cendies, au-dessus desquels du vent sifflait perpetuellement. Rien
n'y attirait plus l'oeil, rien sinon le ciel qui sur ce cercle infini
s'abaissait, semblant craquer au-dessus des tetes.-^^
Time of Day
Among the 334 landscapes, 199 describe conditions during the
daylight hours, eighty-eight describe conditions at dawn, sunrise, sun
set, or twilight, and forty-seven describe conditions at night. Day
light landscapes are the m ost common and the m ost varied. Indeed,
their heterogeneity precludes succinct analysis. It suffices here to
state that under the intense rays of the sum m er sun, the natural
" ib id . , pp. 49, 199. 1Q Q Ibid. , p. 204.
1 0 1Sim, p. 208; Emp, p. 190. 1Q 2BD, p. 13.
42
objects in the landscape are motionless and silent. Nature gives the
, , 103
im pression of lifelessness.
The dawn, the sunrise, the sunset, and the twilight are de-
104
scribed in brilliant colors and splendid imagery. The dawn is the
time when human life awakens in the provincial cities of F r a n c e . I t
106
brings a renewal of inner life and hope. N ature's colors are deli-
107 108
cate and transparent. Her odors are fresh and intense.
Tout prfes d'eux, c'etait la nuit, tapie le long des m urailles,
collee aux contreforts de l'eglise, ou rampant sur les cailloux du
chemin: m ais, dfes le d£but de la plaine, une penombre cendree glis-
sait h ras de terre, s'etalait sur les champs et les routes, comme
un tapis de laine. Ch et lh, de longs rouleaux de vapeur station-
naient prhs des fosses, avant que de p artir pour les longs voyages
dans l'espace. Puis, plus loin, la cendre s'eclaircissait, laissait
transparattre des m yriades d 'arbres gr^les. Enfin, k l'horizon, la
Montagne noire, pareille h un recif, em ergeait de la m er mouvante
des ombres, puis le ciel . . . un ciel auquel la ligne nette des som-
mets donnait un recul prodigieux, un ciel vert, plus limpide qu'une
eau de torrent, aussi vaste que 1'ocean: ce ciel, porte de matin,
dont aucune bouche humaine n'a rendu la splendeur, m ais que les
mourants attendent, avant de m ourir, pour le voir une dernihre foisi
L'abbe Taffin joignit les mains.
--L'aubel . . . c'estl'au b e!
D£jh, des rais d'or fusaient. Le vert devenait rose, le rose se
muait an azur. Partout de longues craquelures brisaient la vapeur
matinale, decouvrant des verdures, des toits. Les couleurs
etaient lustrees, la te rre paraissait neuve. Ah', cette enfance di
vine du jour qui approche, les mains chargees d'inconnul Comme k
103SC-PR, p. 155; Eg, pp. 167-168; VS, p. 121.
104
Em p, p. 321; Eg, p. 156; VS, pp. 151-152; ibid., p. 404;
CV, pp. 420-421.
^ ^ Em p, pp. 1-2; CV, pp. 71-72.
106Sim, pp. 87-88; ibid. , pp. 190-191; Eg, p. 156.
107Sim, p. 88; ibid. , p. 237.
108Ep, pp. 155-156; VS, p. 55.
43
la contempler seulement, l'hom m e sent la vie lbgbre. Plus tard,
l'angoisse reviendra, et la fatigue et le dbcouragement morne; en ce
moment, il n'y a plus que le dblice d'apercevoir la lum ibre et le be-
soin de se m ettre h genoux pour la re m e rc ie r d'etre lb! 9
Serenity^^ or sometim es m elan ch o ly ^ descends upon the landscapes at
sunset and at twilight. As we have stated above, the sunset is also
painted with magnificence.
Le soleilpourtantdescendait. D erribre les collines une large
tache d'or fauve gagna le bleu du ciel, et sous les feux roux du cou-
chant voici que s'incendiaient tous les feuillages naissants, les bois
de chene, les maisons closes, les vergers blancs. On edt dit que
trbs loin une foret gbante brQlait, jetant des reflets sur le ciel. A
chaque seconde cette splendeur changeait. Aux ors des nuees suc-
cedaient des rouges etincelants. L'horizon apparut, comme tra v e r
se par une plaie bbante qui saignait, puis tous les bords des nuages
s'am ortirent, se fondant en rubis et en amethyste. Une fusbe de
rayons passa sur la plaine, promenant sa tralnbe eblouissante, ainsi
qu'un dernier baiser. Un coup de vent encore secoua d'un frisson
les arbres. Le soleil avait d isparu.-^
There are two general types of nocturnal landscapes. The one
is clear and peaceful. Faint sounds and fragrant odors are wafted in
113
the mild air. A pathway of stars is seen in the sky above. The oth
er is dark and m ysterious. Sounds emanate from invisible presences
and arouse fear in the hearts of the c h a r a c te r s .^
Voix etrange de la nuit, voix multiple qui est b la fois partout
et nulle part. . . . C'etait dans 1'espace un tressaillem ent sourd, une
polyphonie sans rythme, faite de vols d'insectes et de mouvements
d'herbes. Tous bruissait. L'espace £tait plein de frolem ents, de
frissons, de chuchotements si bas qu'on les surprenait b peine. P ar
instant, des grillons stridaient ou bien un moustique rodait,
109Ibid. , pp. 52-53.
1 10Sim, p. 97; Eg, pp. 80-81; SC-SC, pp. 14-15; Lab, p. 93.
* * ^BD, pp. 266-267; Sol, p p .147-148. * ^ BD, pp. 148-149.
113Sim, pp. 84-85; VS, p. 13; Sol, p. 100; Lab, p. 191.
U 4Ep, p. 112; VS, p. 19; SC-Dec, pp. 185-186.
44
zezayant sa note aigub. Cach^es dans les bas fonds, des crapauds
egrenaient leurs cris m elancoliques. On eftt dit que, l'hom m e d o r
mant, la te rre prenait l'£veil et com m engait k vivre. Certains
sons, pour etre perQus, exigent la volont£ d'entendre. Depuis com-
bien d'ann^es M. Lethois avait-il passe Ik, sans rien soupgonner de
cette vie? Ce soir, elle l 1 £blouissait, universelle et anonyme, si
proche qu'il en i t a i t envelopp£, si lointaine qu'il n 'au rait pu en de
term iner le sibge ou lui donner un nom ,^^
Phenomena of the Atm osphere
The sky appears in two unusual ways in the novels. E ither it
stretches upward and outward to an infinite distance, or it seem s
117
ready to collapse upon the earth.
Clouds, fog, and snow are distinguished by their form . Clouds
118 119
appear as steam from a tureen, large flaky m asses, or bits of
wool.'*'^ Fog resem bles lather,'*'2'* ' sm o k e,^ ^ a river,'*'2^ the s e a ,^ ^ or
12 5
a winding-sheet. Snow lying on the ground is also com pared to a
w inding-sheet.*"28 The falling snow is described as a bath of clouds'* " 27
or as a white wall which gives way as one advances, without being
128
rent.
1 15VS, pp. 18-19-
^ ^ S im , p. 97; ibid., p. 118; BD, p. 142; Emp, p. 321; Ep, p.
89; SC-SC, pp. 14-15.
1 17F e r , pp. 104-105; VS, p. 318; SC-CB, p. 64; MC, pp. 179-180.
118VS, p. 245. 119BD, p. 108.
120VS, p. 305; SC-CB, p. 54. 121Sol, p. 186.
1 2 2 1 2 3
F er, p. 40; MC, p. 288. Em p, p. 166.
^2^Ibid. , pp. 240-241; Ep, pp. 107-109. ^2 8 F e r , p. 40.
126BD, p. 211; Em p, p. 334. 127Lab, pp. 280-281.
128Ibid. , p. 283.
45
The wind and the rain are distinguished by their sound. The
129
strong south wind (le vent d'autan) groans sadly or huffs and puffs,
130
as a train standing in a station. The dry, cold north wind (la b ise)
whistles sorrowfully. Above a b a rre n expanse, whistling and crac-
132
kling, it gives the im pression that the land is on fire. The wail of
the rain drowns out the chiming of bells, the roaring of trains, and the
133
huffing and puffing of factories. Its din absorbs and silences the lu
gubrious m usic of the wind.''"34
Phenomena of the atm osphere are also characterized by com
paring their movements with those of living beings. The clouds flutter
like b ird s,I38 saunter about,'*'38 hastily answ er a s u m m o n s /^ mow
138 139
down chimneys and hills, and wage w arfare. The fog rises with
140
the slowness of phantoms or with the questioning face of a curious
passer-by.''-4" '' It stretches on the benches as a tram p whose back aches
142
from walking too much. It saunters as a trad e r taking advantage of
143
leisure tim e. The fog of the plain crouches in low places, rem aining
144
crafty and m otionless. The fog of the mountain, like a gigantic bird,
145
extends its wings, beats them in the air, relaxes, and then flies off.
The falling snow, seen through the window of a traveling carriage,
'"^Sim , p. 208.
130- ,
Ep, p. 2. 131b d , p. 97.
132Ibid. , p. 13. 1 33F er, p. 241. 1 34Sol, p. 178.
135VS, p. 397. 136TF, p. 209.
1 37
- 1 SC-CB, p. 65
138F er, p. 241. 139MC, p. 163.
140c .
Sim, p. 235.
141CV, pp. 104-105.
H 2 t V ,
Ibid. , pp.
278-279.
143Ibid. , p. 2 9 2 . 144SC-IL, p. 294.
145
Ibid.
46
146
gives one the im pression of being watched by thousands of eyes.
Conclusion
Estauni^'s landscapes are varied. The m ore common types in
clude fertile plains, sem i-arid, hilly terrain , and town or city streets.
Less common types include gardens and parks, riv ers and lakes, and
mountains. The landscapes are painted in abundant but not excessive
detail.
The common varieties of tree s, plants, and flowers figure in
the landscapes, along with the animals generally associated with the
country and the farm . The various atm ospheric phenomena, the
clouds, fog, wind, rain, and snow, are frequently described. Nature
is presented at all times of the year and at all hours of the day and
night. The spring and sum m er months, and the hours between sunrise
and sunset, are painted the greatest number of tim es.
The trees, plants, and flowers, as well as the atm ospheric phe
nomena, are frequently compared, in form, sound, or movement, with
living beings. In this way, the landscapes are vitalized and individual
ized to a greater extent.
The M anner in Which Estaunid
Became Acquainted with Nature
D irect Observation
During his childhood, youth, and manhood, Estaunid traveled
extensively in F rance. He constantly sought opportunities to be out-of-
doors. He would take excursions in the country, visiting out-of-the
4 7
147
way towns and villages, hiking across fields and forests, and clim b-
148
ing mountains. He described his im pressions of nature during
these jaunts in four articles which he composed for the Gazette Diplo-
149
matique in the sum m er of 1888 and 1889. He showed already keen
sensitivity to color and sound.
Le ciel devient tout h fait bleu, les arbres s'am usent h. planter des
tons roux au trav ers de leurs branches, I1 em m agasinem ent des nids
est te rm in i, m ettant en chaque coin de for§t des vacarm es d£li~
cieux, les m oissons sont couleur d1 or, les vignes dansent en robes
de velours vert, et c 'e st partout l'enivrem ent de la nature, la
jeunesse des plantes, la liberte des frondaisons .150
Ah', ce midi provengal qui ne ressem ble h aucun autre, avec
son aspect de grisaille, ses oliviers blanchStres et rabougris, sa
te rre craquelee sous 1' effort du soleil, de loin en loin les m as aux
toitures rouges et plates, sem blant construits en torchis jaune, et
p ar-d essu s tout cela, son ciel bleu, d'un bleu qui eblouit, fatigue,
calcine les yeux'. —
C 'est dans les montagnes que je viens de lire L'Sme des choses,
en un coin retire du Dauphine, ce pays m erveilleux que nous autres
Franqais, ignorons presque et dont pourtant aucun autre n'approche.
Au loin, vers les cim es, j'ap ercevais les im m enses crStes
blanches et rouges des Rousses et leurs glaciers bleu-pale sem -
blaient se fondre dans le ciel verdStre, comme si la montagne seule
^4^Andre B ellessort, "Silhouettes contemporaines: M. Edouard
Estaunie, " Revue des Deux M ondes, IX (May 15, 1922), 355.
148Camille C£, Rega r ds sur 1'oeuvr e d'Edou a rd_Estaunid
(Paris: P errin , 1935), p. 22.
149njja chronique theStrale: Le thdStre en liberty, " Gazette Di
plomatique, XII (August 8 , 1888), 5-6; "L a chronique thd&trale: La
fete des F elibres, " Gazette Diplomatique, XII (August 22, 1888), 7;
"La chronique theS.tr ale, " Gazette Diplomatique, XII (August 29, 1888),
7; "Les iddes et les livres: L'Sme des choses, par A. Blondel, " Ga
zette Diplomatique, XIII (August 22, 1889), 9-10.
150"La chronique thdStrale: Le thdatre en liberte, " Gazette Di
plomatique, XII (August 8 , 1888), 5.
151"La chronique th£S.trale: La fSte des F dlibres, " Gazette Di
plomatique, XII (August 22, 1888), 7.
48!
e0.t et6 capable de riv aliser avec l'azu r, l'im palpable. Autour de
moi, des roches tordues, des m ousses grimpantes le long desquelles
l'eau laiteuse pendait en gouttelettes, et partout le m urm ure dnorme
des torrents, des p ierres qui se d^tachent, des arb res sur lesquels
la b rise passe, m urm ure qui est le chant de la montagne.
In later life, Estauni£ planned and cultivated two gardens, the
ICO
one at his home in P aris and the other at his home in Dijon. Camille
Ce describes him in his garden at Dijon. We note again Estauni^'s
sensitivity to color.
II s'avance lentement, sous sa pblerine et son chapeau de paille^
au m ilieu des lignes d 'asters qui, le soir, se referm ent. II resp ire
des branches d1 abrisseau odorant, qui s'^talent . . .
Mais ses dahlias epanouis, innombrables, sont sa te n d re sse --
leurs nuances, leurs vari£t£s infinies, son inepuisable enchante-
ment.
II examine dans la transparence, aux derniers rayons, les
veines qui sinuent, la texture ineffable de ces fleurs. Les unes,
tuyautees comme ces fraises des portraits hollandais qui ravirent
sa jeunesse artiste; d'autres, soleils fauves et somptueux qui ray-
onnent dans leur gloire; d'autres, ocrees ou saumon, ou bien du
ponceau des damas anciens; d'autres enfin, qui offrent les tons de
grades, roses, indefinis d'une aurore ou d'une chair d'enfant; cer-
taines sont comme deliquescentes et belles dans leurs alanguisse-
m ents. II caresse de ses doigts emus leurs longs p£tales mauves.
II trouve lh une delectation, et dans leur choeur de nuances une
musique.
II trouve dans son vaste jardin, comme le vieux due en exil
d'As you like it au fond de sa forSt, d'infinis sujets de meditation.
II decouvre h toutes ces plantes un sens et une vie propre, une vo-
lont£ et un destin comme h chacun de nous. Ces arb res, ces ar-
bustes ont des refus de vivre telle place, d'etranges entitem ents,
ou bien un acharnem ent h per severer, m algr£ tout, dans la v ie .^ ^
Estaunie's tendency to endow natural phenomena with a soul will be
152m Leg idees et les livres: L'dme des choses, par A. Blonde],"
Gazette Diplomatique, XIII (August 22, 1889), 9.
I CO
Charpentier, op. cit. , p. 21.
^ ^ C e , op. cit. , pp. 2 0 - 2 1 .
49
155
discussed in a later section in this chapter.
His frequent contacts with the natural world enabled him to
study a variety of landscapes. He learned to observe accurately. He
became aware of color, light, form, line, relief, sound, odor, and
tactile sensations.
It is interesting to note that although Estaunie traveled exten
sively throughout France and observed at first hand the landscapes
156
which he afterward described in his literary works, he preferred to
study each scene for only a brief period. "Je soutiens que I1 on n1 £crit
157 x
bien que ce que l'on voit rapidement. " Andre Bellessort informs us
that Estaunie abhorred making personal confidences in his works.
Even the places which he described were not always the ones which he
knew best. There were only three or four settings which were really
familiar to him: the plain of Belpech, painted in Un simple; the dwell
ing of his grandfather in Saint-Julia, described in L1 epave; the town of
Montaigut, which forms the setting of La vie secrete; and the old house
described in Les choses voient. The first part of L1 empreinte takes
place in Nevers, but Estaunie only visited the town a few hours between
trains. The second part of Le ferment is laid in Angleur, Belgium,
lie
but he was there but a day. Although he described Vezelay in "M
Gauche, " he only glimpsed it while passing through on a train. He
spent but an afternoon in Semur, which forms the principal setting of
^^S ee p, 74. ^^B ellesso rt, loc. cit.
157
Robert Valette, nEntretien avec Edouard Estauni£, " Revue
des Visages, VI (March, 1928), 7.
50
IC Q
L'appel de la route.
Estaunie's landscapes, however, do not reveal careless and
hurried observation. They indicate, on the contrary, precision in the
delineating of line and form, and careful observation of light, color,
159
relief, sound, odor, and tactile sensations. How can we reconcile
these two contradictory observations? Although admitting that Estau-
ni£ observed a scene rapidly, we m ust also state that he spent a con
siderable amount of time thinking over what he had seen and transcrib
ing his impressions on paper. Coupled with his brilliant observational
faculties and his extraordinary memory was a penchant for laborious,
painstaking writing and rewriting of im pressions. He was never satis
fied until his impressions were expressed in a form as nearly perfect
as possible. He once stated: "Pour faire de I1 art, il ne faut pas etre
presse. Q g speaks of the evidence of patient labor revealed by the
frequent corrections in his manuscripts. if we examine his literary
output during the forty-year period from 1891 to 1931, we discover
that he published only eleven novels, five novelettes, and eight short
stories. The quality of his novels is of more significance than their
quantity.
Study of Dutch Art
His study of Dutch painting stimulated and developed his artistic
1 2.
sensitivity. His firsthand observation of the Dutch countryside,
^^B ellessort, op. cit. , p. 357. ^^S ee pp. 72-73.
^^V alette, op. cit. , p. 2. ^ ^ C e, op. cit. , p. 335.
1 A ?
^ After making a trip to the Low Countries, Estauni£ published
a series of seven articles on Dutch painters. The articles appeared in
51
together with his detailed study of such landscapists as Terburg and
Hobbema, made him m ore keenly aware of line, form, relief, color,
J 1- V* 163
and light.
In the article entitled "Terburg m oraliste, " he described the
celebrated artist walking in the country near the town of Zwolle.
A perte de vue, la plaine verdoyante s'enfuit; elle m eurt h l'hor-
izon, coupee ch et lh seulement par les barres d1 argent que font les
canaux endormis. Parfois, groupds en cercle, des chenes aux fu-
taies centenaires interrom pent l'enorm e monotonie du sol. Un s i
lence plane au-dessus des prairies sans limites.
Li1 eau se devine partout, mettant une humidite continue dans
l1 air, et cela donne aux colorations une nettet£ qui jamais ailleurs
ne se retrouvera. Tout resso rt dans la claire transparence de 1'at
mosphere, les feuilles des arbres qui tremblent sous les passages
de brise, les details des ferm es et les longues herbes frissonnantes,
inclinees sur les talus des canaux.
Puis, lorsque le soleil tombe, le brouillard se lhve, jetant sur
toutes choses son manteau. C 'est alors une feerie de couleurs: des
roses, des verts indistincts, des jaunes mourants, des gris surtout,
tonalites d'une finesse adorable et si nettes. qu'involontairement le
desir vient de les reform er sur la palette.
The transparency of the air makes the details of the landscape and the
colors stand out sharply. We note the bars of silver formed by the
canals, the circles which the oaks delineate, and the delicate shadings
created when the fog drapes the scene.
In the article entitled "Meyndert Hobbema, " Estaunie depicts
the Revue des Musees during the years 1889 and 1890. Five of the a r
ticles were included in the longer work: Impressions de Hollande: P e
tits M aitres, published in 1893.
^ ^Seance de l'Academie Franqaise du 2 avril 1925. Discours
de reception de M. Edouard Estauni£; rdponse de M. Robert de F lers,
p. 38.
164
Impressions de Hollande: Petits M altres, pp. 41-42. F irst
published: "Impressions d'art: Terburg m oraliste, " Revue des M usdes,
August 1, 1890.
52
a painting of this artist.
L'allee bordee par les hauts arbres ebranch.es s'enfuit vers
l'horizon. Allee trbs droite, semee de fondriferes. Tout au loin, le
village. Puis, sur les c6t£s, des champs monotones, des planta
tions de ro siers, des p£piniferes . . .
Le ciel d'un azur tranquille paratt m onter indefiniment au-des-
sus des branches et se grandit de leur £lancement. Pourtant, gh. et
lh, des nuages blancs flottent dans l'a ir, et la purete radieuse de ce
firm am ent paisible se reflhte doucement sur l'eau des canaux lon-
geant 1' allee.
Avec quelle justesse de tonalites assourdies ne se retrouve-t-
elle pas sur la m oire des fosses'.
La couleur est franche, limpide. On est baign£ dans 1' eclat du
jour. Lh-bas, un chasseur, le fusil sur l'epaule, s'avance avec son
chien. Plus loin, un horticulteur est occupe h greffer des arbustes
dans sa pepinifere. Et il semble qu'un grand silence soit lh: silence
des journees finissantes et du soir qui vient.
C 'est le calme.
Les branches ne rem uent point, les passants ne se hatent pas,
l'eau dort. Le ciel lui-m em e a l'a ir de retenir sa lumi&re.
The details of this scene also stand out. We note the fields, the rose
bushes, the nurseries, and the straight road with the village in the dis
tance. The radiant purety of the sky is reflected in the w aters of the
canals. The colors are pure and limpid.
The Manner in Which Nature is Perceived
The Visual Sense
Line
There are eighty-seven landscapes which are delineated by v a r
ious types of lines. The lines which Estauni£ employs are usually
l65Imp ressions de Hollande; Petits M aitres, pp. 111-112.
F irs t published: "Im pressions d'art: Meyndert Hobbema, " Revue des
M usees, November 15, 1890.
53
sharp and precise. Twenty-six landscapes emphasize the vertical
line; twenty-four emphasize the horizontal line; twenty-three contain
curved lines; eight landscapes include geom etrical figures of various
kinds; and six contain angles.
The vertical line is emphasized by trees, mountains, and bell
166 , 167 , . 168 . 169 . „
towers. Elms, plane trees, cherries, and acacias jut up
170
from the borders of roads and streets. Oaks line hedges, and pop-
171
lars line ditches. The countryside is strewn with trees which re-
172
semble blades of grass.
The Meije form s a dike of violet escarpm ents and a colossal
173
wall of gray granite. Mount Aiguilhe and its spire, in the Haute-
Loire, have the appearance of a black candle and its tiny flame.'*'^
Saint-Felix, in the Haute-Garonne, juts out from the plain like a
175
spur. Precipitous slopes characterize the landscapes near Blaizot,
17 6
in the Haute-M arne.
The plain of Saint-Julia, in the Haute-Garonne, resem bles an
ocean which carries villages instead of ships. The villages raise
177
their bell towers like thin m asts above the keel. In the snow, Ne-
vers seems to be a swarm of black birds with its bell towers jutting up
178
from white roof tops. Hooded in the fog, Langres is only white
l 66Sim, p. 55; AB, p. 20. l 67BD, p. 38.
l 6 8Ibid. , p. 148. 169VS, p. 100. 170Ibid. , p. 189.
171lbid. , p. 119. 172Ep, p. 87. 173SC-CB, p. 63.
174Lab, p. 30. 175Ep, p. 94.
176MC, pp. 162-163; ibid. , p. 253. 177Ep, pp. 13-14.
^78E m p , p. 62.
54
smoke. The spires of its bell towers stick up here and there like
flames .^79
The horizontal line is emphasized by plains, trees, mountains,
and sections of the sky. Plains fly away as far as the eye can s e e 3 ^
181
Yews and poplars sway in the breeze. The branches of trees resem -
182
ble extended arm s. At certain tim es of the day, mountains appear
183 184
to have level slopes. A ribbon of sky separates river banks and
v . j 185
hedges.
The curved line is brought out by the undulation of various natu-
. , . . .. , 186 . . 187 . 188 , . 189 .
ral phenomena, including hills, fields, trees, plants, riv
e r s / ^ pathways,'*'9^ and shadows.'*'^ It also figures in the description
193 194
of the flight of swallows, of the brows of mountains, of the config-
195 196
uration of trees and rocks, of the infinite circle formed by
179MC, p. 288.
^80BD, p. 109; Em p, p. 18; ibid. , p. 138; Ep, p. 24; ibid. , p.
87; VS, p. 118.
181Sim, pp. 61-62; BD, p. 147; CP, p. 580; ibid. , p. 581.
*8^Ep, p. 24; Lab, p. 231.
183SC-CB, p. 54; SC-SC, p. 14.
184Fer, p. 277. 185Ep, p. 177.
186Sim, p. 60; Ep, p. 13; VS, p. 238.
187SC-PR, p. 164; Ep, p. 88; SC-CB, p. 63; Lab, p. 125.
188tt 189c . q q 190
Emp, p. 253. Sim, p. 8 8 . B as, p. 20.
^9 ^Sim, p. 76. ^9^Lab, p. 126.
1 q -i 1 04
Sim, p. 150; VS, p. 55. Sim, p. 56; Ep, p. 95.
1 95VS, p. 17; Lab, p. 83. 196MC, p. 163.
55
197 198
fields, and of the arc form ed by a river.
Geometrical figures are form ed by the lines of landscapes. A
rectangle is form ed by a plain intersected by hedges, grape vines, and
meadows. '^ 9 Gardens,flower beds bordered by geranium hedgesf*^
202
and the boughs of old chestnuts also form rectangles. Quincunxes
203
are delineated by the alignment of tree trunks. A pyramid is de-
204
scribed by the configuration of a mountain.
205
Angular lines are form ed by the a rrise s of mountains, of
206 207
minute rocks imbedded in a river, and of roof tops. They are
208
also emphasized by the configuration of angular valleys.
Form
Seventy-seven landscapes contain objects whose form is com
pared to that of beings and things. These objects are compared to hu
mans, animals, other natural objects, household objects, m aterials
and fabrics, articles of clothing, bells, boats, and the surface of
m etals.
Among the natural objects compared to human beings, we find
the rising sun, asleep at the horizon, compared to an individual with a
209
red headdress. A mountain at sunset is likened to a Valkyrie falling
197BD, p. 13. ^®Emp, p. 99. 199bd, p. 109.
200^ 201
302.
202
Ep, p. 24. Emp, p. Sol,
p. 9.
203,,
Bas, p. 25. 204s c - c b , p. 63. 205Ibid.
■ , p. 71
206Sim, p. 8 8 .
207,-,
F er, p. 110.
2^ S im , p. 56; ibid. , pp. 59-60. 209Ep, p. 156.
56
— 210
asleep, enveloped in smoke. At tim es, her buttresses, like lictors,
seem to raise her upon a shield. At other tim es, she weighs down up-
211
on them, and they are forced to bend their backs. The woods, upon
an immense plain planted with vineyards, look like hunters shirking
212
their duty in the underbrush. Large clumps of poplars standing to-
213
gether in the corner of a ditch resem ble village jab berers. Elms
214
turn in the breeze like w altzers in green tunics. Regiments of corn
with their heads helmeted with floating hair stamp here and there upon
215
a vast plain. They, seem to be awaiting the order to m arch. ~
Among the objects in the landscapes whose form is com pared to
that of animals are the bell tu rrets of Never s. They jut up from snow-
216
covered roof tops like a swarm of black birds. As the fog lifts over
P aris, a peacock with an invisible body seem s to stretch out her
217
plumes upon the wet slate of the roofs.
Some objects in the landscapes are compared to other natural
218
objects. The surface of certain fields undulates like ocean waves.
At sunrise, the sky is green, strew n with violet speckles. One would
say that an im m ense meadow w ere blooming there, covered with wind-
219
flowers and rim ed with dew. The city of Limoges resem bles a field
in which the mauve roof tops become flowers and the bell towers are
220
stem s.
2 1 Q SC-CB, p. 97. 2 1 1Ibid. , p. 71.
2 12SC-Pec, p. 174. 213Sim, p. 58. Z14VS, p. 121.
2 1 5Ibid. , p. 118. 216Em p, p. 62. 2 1?F er, p. 48.
2 1 8Ep, p. 88; SC-SC, p. 5; Lab, p. 125; MC, p. 188.
2 1 9Ep, p. 156. 22°B as, p. 20.
57
Other objects in the landscapes are compared to household ob-
221
jects. On a clear night, the sky becomes a brazier. The stars dec-
222
orate the heavens with lanterns. Meadows with the undulating lines
223
of sea shells resemble the foot of an Italian candlestick. A moun-
224
tain stands out against the sky in the form of a blue goblet. Clouds
225
cut into a mountain like a knife into butter. The clouds which
stretch out upon a plain make the latter appear to be a steaming tu-
226
reen.
Certain objects are compared to m aterials and fabrics. Clouds
hooked upon the brows of mountains resem ble wisps of wool that re-
227
main attached to the bushes when sheep have passed by. Trails of
shadows and dead leaves strewn upon the ground form an oriental c a r
pet. 22® Fields of wheat waving in the breeze have the appearance of
229
moire.
Other objects are compared to articles of clothing. A large
mountain juts up in the middle of the fields like a hat thrown down by a
230
peak who wants to warm his head in comfort. The Pyrenees raise
231
their heads covered with white lace. Yews and poplars sway their
232
plume-like form in the breeze. The stars in a limpid sky look like
233
highly polished buttons.
Still other objects are compared to bells. Mountain heather,
ZZ1Fer, p. 165. ZZZEmp, p. 99; SC-CB, p. 106.
223Ibid. , p. 63. 224lbid. , p. 97. 22 5Ibid. , p. 54.
226VS, p. 245. 227SC-GB, p. 54. 228Emp, p. 302.
Z29BD, p. 13. 2 30VS, p. 119. 2 3 1Ibid. , p. 380.
7 2 7 233
CP, p. 580; Sim, p. 61. SC-CB, pp. 53-54.
58
234
broom, and convolvulus have bell-shaped flowers. Spring buds and
235
autumn leaves form bells.
Among the objects whose form is compared to that of a ship,
we find villages which float upon a vast ocean of fields. They rise the
236
thin m ast of their bell tower above their keel. The form of
2 37 238 2 39
clouds, stacks of grain, and old chestnut trees is also com
pared to that of ships.
A few objects are compared in form to the surface of m etals.
240
Rivers plate a plain with silver blades. Two rivers which come to
gether in the moonlight form a Y that gleams like the blade of a steel
241
sword. The night sky stands out in a window fram e as if it were a
242
steel cover.
Relief
The objects in fifty-four landscapes stand out in relief against
the sky or against other objects. The light is instrum ental in deter
mining the depth of the relief. At dawn, the sharp lines of a mountain
243
stand out clearly against the sky. At sunrise, thickly clustered
leaves jut out in bold relief from the light blue sky adorned with sun-
244
rays. In the middle of the day, the sun falls straight downward,
leaving hardly a shadow on the earth. It seems as if the landscape
234CP, p. 581; VS, p. 122; SC-PR, p. 155.
235BD, pp. 81-82; ibid. , p. 49. 236Ep, p. 13-14.
237SC-CB, p. 64. 2 38Sim, p. 6 6 . 239Sol, p. 9.
240Sim, p. 61. 2 4 1Ibid. , p. 233. 2^ F e r, p. 98.
2 4 3VS, p. 52. 244Sim, p. 237.
59!
245
w ere engraved with a dry point. At sunset, the houses, roofs, and
246
chimneys stand out in battlements against the red sky. The twilight
247
levels all the slopes. On a clear night, when the moon shines
straight downward, objects lose their thickness. Everything is bathed
in a uniform light, and relief no longer exists. When the night sky is
overcast, the branches of the trees look like thin strokes traced by a
248
hard pencil upon B ristol board. It appears as if the flaky strokes of
249
a stump are traced around the silhouettes on the horizon.
The contrast in color causes objects to stand out in relief
against the horizon or against other objects. The dark form of poplars
250
juts out against the bleak winter sky. Black trees spot the blue
251
horizon of the night. Clumps of willows stand out against a slope in
252
closely planted sheets. During a snow storm , the trees disappear
in the fog and their trunks alone rem ain visible like pencil strokes upon
v * 253
a white page.
Color
Colors appear singly or in combinations in eighty-one land
scapes. Among the colors found singly, yellow is used in fifteen land
scapes; white in ten; red and gray in nine each; blue in seven; purple
and violet in five; black in three; and green in two.
Yellow and gold are associated with autumn, sunset, puddles of
rain w ater, winter fog, and plant leaves. In the fall, the wheat fields
2 4 5SC-PR, p. 147. 246F er, p. 81. 247SC-SC, p. 14.
2 48VS, p. 306. 249Sim, p. 215. 2 50BD, p. 211.
251F er, p. 291. 252SC~CB, p. 96. 253F er, p. 106.
60
become golden, then yellow, then yellowish re d .234 Autumn leaves
255
form a golden veil. At sunset, the sky flam es with the radiance of
256
rose gold; clouds take on the tints of old copper coins or red hair.
The m ists of sunset are sulphur yellow. Puddles of ra in w a te r have
258
copper reflections. The fog of November and of January is yel-
259
low. Yellow is emphasized in describing the changing colors of
plants during a sum m er's day:
. . . les nuances des plantes passant du bleu du m atin au noir as-
som bri de la nuit par toutes les gammes de jaunes verdoyants--
jaune des ors m ats, jaune des bijoux anciens, jaune argente des
pibces de v e r m e i l / ^
White and silver are associated with w ater, snow, the stars,
and early morning and evening light. A plain is furrowed by silver
261
riv ers. The falling snow flakes which pass before street lamps are
262
illuminated by silver flashes. The Pyrenees raise their heads cov-
? / O
ered with white lace. The stars form silver lawns surrounded by
264 265
sanded walks. The dawning sky is silver, and the twilight sky is
a delicate m oth er-o f-p earl.2^
Red is associated with the sunrise and the sunset, with the au
tumn, and with the coloration of the soil. At sunrise, the sun, asleep
2 6 7
on the horizon, is seen wearing a red cap. The sunset covers the
254BD, p. 13. 2 5 5Ibid. , p. 199. 256Sim, p. 156.
2 3 ^SC-CB, p. 84. 2 ^ Sim, p. 15; ibid. , p. 146.
2 5 9 CV, pp. 104-10 5; ibid. , pp. 278, 279. 2 6 °Sim, pp. 88-89.
261Sim, p. 61. 262BD, p. 100. 2 6 3 VS, p. 380.
26 4Ibid. , p. 13. 265Ep> p. 127. 266MC, p. 280.
2 6 7Ep, p. 156.
61
268
sky with a red veil. The setting sun leaves a bloody tra il across the
s k y .2 ^9 j n th e autumn, reddish-brown tints, like the blaze of a gigan-
270
tic conflagration, color the woods. In Languedoc, even during the
green months of the year, undulating reddish hills stretch out beneath
271
the bluish sky. The plain of the Beauce has reddish reflections as if
272
a purple veil had been stretched upon it.
Gray is associated with the dawn, the twilight, and the night, as
well as with storm y weather in general. The dawn sheds an ash-
273
colored penumbra upon the earth. The sky at twilight is ash-col-
274 27 5
ored or a dull gray without nuances. The night is a delicate
7 7 A 7 77
gray. During a snow storm, the sky is soot-colored. In B or
deaux, just before a rain storm , the colors combine to form a monoto
nous grisaille.
II me souvient que c'etait une journ£e telle qu1 on en voit trop sou-
vent h Bordeaux, oh le ciel gonfl£ de pluies s'acharne h 6teindre les
couleurs. Les enseignes criardes, les devantures tachees de boue,
le pave suintant, tout alors s'unifie dans la m^me grisaille et pue le
terreau. La pierre des facades se plombe comme un visage de m a-
lade. La Gironde roule de la boue et les bateaux immobiles oxtl’air
d' £paves qui achhvent de pourrir h 1' abandon.
Blue characterizes the sky, either in the daytime or at night,
as well as woods and plains which stretch out to the horizon. In the
279
daytime, the sky is opaline blue. At night, the stars nail to the
2 80
heavenly vault a drape of deep blue. The soft blue m oire of the
268sim, p. 72. 269Emp, p. 20. 270Sim, p. 277.
2 7 1Ibid. , p. 60. 2 7 2BD, p. 81. 2 7 3VS, p. 52.
274BD, pp. 89-90; SC-Dec, p. 184. 275Inv, p. 448.
276> Em p, p. 74. 277Sol, p. 51. 278SC-IL, p. 216.
279Sim, p. 97. 2 80 VS, p. 404.
62
2 81
Boulogne woods shivers in the sunlight. A plain stretches out
strewn with trees as far as the eye can reach. It flies away with thin
lines and with the blue perspectives dear to the old painters of Um
b ria .282
Violet and purple are associated with the sunset, the twilight,
and the spring. At sunset, the trees cover the ground with a violet
283 284
shadow. The twilight sky forms a purple drape which tints the
288
white bouquets of May purple. ° On a spring day, the buds them-
2 O/L
selves put violet tints upon the sleeping woods.
Black is used to describe trees and plants. Trees bending over
287
in the wind have a black hue. Poplars shake their black whips in the
b reeze.288 Grape vines are characterized by their black stocks.289
Green is the characteristic color of the sky at dawn, m ore lim -
290
pid than a mountain stream and as vast as the ocean. It also de-
291
scribes the m oire of wheat fields during the summer.
Dazzling combinations of colors characterize the sunrise and
the sunset. At sunrise, the golden rays fuse. The green becomes
292
rose, and the rose changes to blue. The sunset is described with
splendid imagery:
Aux ors des nuees succedaient des rouges etincelants. U horizon
apparut, comme traverse par une plaie b£ante qui saignait, puis
tous les bords des nuages s'am ortirent, se fondant en rubis et en
281Emp, p. 253. 282Ep, p. 87. 2 8 3Ibid. , pp. 80-81.
284Bas, p. 207. 285Sol, p. 145. 2 8 6 BD, p. 109.
287Sim, p. 208. 2 88BD, p. 147.
289Sim, p. 56; BD, p. 109. 29 °VS, p. 52.
2 9 1BD, p. 13. 292VS, p. 52.
63
293
am^thyste.
The sun, descending behind a screen of tre e s, shoots its rays through
the branches and drowns the flower beds in a reddish-brow n vapor.
Translucent, the dark screen of trees loses all true form. It seem s as
if a furious hand is throwing round spots of orange, gray, and gold up-
4* 294
on it.
A variety of colors is used to describe a garden, a mountain,
and a series of landscapes in the H aute-L oire. In a spring garden,
there are red gram inaceae, m ountain heather with brown flowers,
white violets, deep green yews, and poplars with black and white
295
bark. The color of the Meije is constantly changing: at tim es, it is
a m ean black; then, a blond yellow; and finally, a gray of calcined
296
ashes. The sacred beauty of the H aute-L oire is described in term s
of greens that sing, violets that groan, yellows of a copper shade, and
2 97
undulating blue shadows upon the fields.
Nevers and the Meije are painted in black and white. Nevers in
the snow appears as a swarm of black birds with bell tu rrets jutting up
298
from white roof tops. The Meije at night is an ocellated pyram id of
299
white against a black sky.
Light
Lighting effects are described in fifty-eight landscapes. They
include effects of the sun, moon, and stars. The effects of light
2 9 3 BD, p. 149. 2 9 4 F er, p. 264. 2 9 5 CP, p. 581.
296SC-CB, p. 71. 2 9 7 Lab, pp. 125-126.
2 98Em p, p. 62. 299SC-CB, p. 97.
64'
passing through various objects and of light reflecting from objects are
also noted.
An ash-colored penumbra announces the daw n.^^ In the white
301
light of dawn, the trees appear to be drowned in blue reek. At sun
rise, the light blue sky is adorned with rays. The tints of objects are
302
delicately accentuated with translucency. During the sum m er day,
a radiant plain which stretches out to the lim it of the horizon becomes
303
a rarefied blue, like the habit of the Sisters of Mercy. At midday,
the sun, falling straight downward upon the soil, removes all shadows.
304
The landscape seems to have been engraved with a dry point. The
winter light attenuates reliefs. Each object seems enveloped in a heavy
■ J A C
m aterial. Under.the red fires of the setting sun, the vegetation ap
pears to catch fire. A gigantic forest fire appears to be blazing in the
distance, throwing its reflections upon the sky. A rocket of light rays
306
passes along the plain, allowing its dazzling trail to wander. The
307
silhouettes of the copses disappear. The mountain tops are drowned
308
under a shower of light rays. When the sun disappears, incandes-
309
cent vapor continues to sketch the form of the mountain. In the pale
glow of the twilight, colors which are turning black have the sheen of
velvet.3"^ An ash-colored veil falls in front of each hou se . The fall
ing night envelops everything in a milky penumbra, creating a
300vs, p. 52. 3 9 ^Sim, p. 8 8 .
302T , . ,
Ibid. , p . 237.
303b d , p. 18. 304SC-PR, p. 147.
305-r-,
F er, p. 39.
306b d , pp. 148-149. 307Sim, p. 97. 308s c - c b , p. 94.
309Ibid.., p. 97. 310Sim, p. 77. 311MC, p. 128.
65’
312
chiaroscuro. The moving shadow of the night is described in detail:
Fluide, 1'ombre se r^pandait dans les creux, lechant le pied des
collines ainsi qu'une berge, gagnait sournoisement les sillons. Et
peu h peu, aprfes avoir seulement baign£ les troncs, voici qu'elle
couvrait le sol, coulait sa m asse puissante sur les champs disparus,
se haussait vers les branches; une seconde, la plaine ne fut plus
qu'un grand lac oh flottaient des bouquets; une seconde encore, le
lac devint m er. La montagne s'effaga. aprhs elle, le ciel. Enfin
le noir qui s'^tend, un oc£an de noir.
The dark night envelops everything, blending the trees' trunks with the
314
hedges. It appears to hollow out the gaping, infinite horizons. The
315
branches of trees look like thin pencil strokes on B ristol board.
When the scintillation of stars pierces the sky, the silhouettes on the
316
horizon disappear in the indistinct folds of the chiaroscuro. The
moon, shining straight downward, illuminates the landscape in such a
way that the objects lose their thickness. A uniform light bathes the
317
scenes. Relief does not exist. The moon makes the gargoyles of a
318
church stand out in profile, peopling the air with phantoms. After a
rain storm, the night is lit up with pale glim m ers. In the distance,
black shades are turning gray, as if a stump had designed flaky shad-
319
ings around the silhouettes on the horizon.
The effects of light passing through various objects is de
scribed. A corner of the sun bursting through the clouds streaks win-
320
dow panes with golden zigzags. Bursts of sunlight from the clouds
are compared to the m anner in which medieval artists placed a halo
312BD, pp. 24-25.
315VS, p. 306.
318Em p, p. 115.
313
p. 151.
3 ^ S im , p. 85.
319Sim, p. 215.
314Sim, p. 118.
317t ^ C1
Inv, p. 451.
3ZQ Ibid. , p. 26.
321
around the face of God. The vertical rays of the sun, falling
322
through the foliage of elms, put trem bling yellow circles on the dust.
323
Below poplars, a violet shadow refreshes the eye. Through red-
324
dened w isteria leaves, the sun covers objects with a filtered glow.
The rays of the setting sun pass through the branches of trees and
drown the flower beds in a reddish brown vapor. A translucent, dark
screen of trees then loses its form. It seem s as if a furious hand is
throwing round spots of orange, gray, and gold upon it.
The reflection of light upon various objects in the landscape is
painted. Areas of the soil, reflecting the sun's rays, look like golden
jewels placed upon v e lv e t.T h e sparkling sun, in the middle of the
327
day, makes stacks of grain blaze in a shower of light rays. Poplars,
32Q
waving their plumes in the breeze, also reflect the sunlight. On a
cloudy day, there is false lighting. The pavement reflects the ap-
329
proaching storm . 7 At night, the Seine, reflecting the lights of P aris,
carries along golden spangles.
The Auditory Sense
There are sixty-one landscapes which mention or describe the
sounds of nature. The auditory sensations are produced by animals, by
the wind and rain, and by riv ers.
The discordant cries of the barnyard are noted: the bleating of
mo 322c . _Q 323T , . ,
BD, p. 108. Sim, p. 58. Ibid.
324BD, p. 184. 325F er, p. 264. 326Sim, p. 62.
327Ibid. , p. 170. 328Ibid. , p. 61. 3 2 9Ibid. , p. 123.
67'
331 332
sheep, goats, and calves; the cheeping of young fowl; the crowing
333 334 335
of roosters; the clucking of hens; the raucous cry of geese;
3 36
and the barking of dogs. In the intense heat of the sum m er, the
337
clucking of hens is prolonged in the still air. The cry of toads is
sad.^® The melancholy sound of frogs resem bles an echo reverberat-
339
ing indefinitely; it is answered by the squeaking of crickets. The
sound of crickets is also compared to the noise made by a gimlet
340 341
which needs oil. Flies buzz monotonously, and mosquitoes lisp
342 343
their shrill notes. Sparrows chirp, and black birds make whis-
344
tling sounds.
When the wind blows, it causes the ground to vibrate with a
345
whistling which passes from dull scales to shrill sonorities. The
34ft
foliage of trees and plants rustles, and the leaves of the plane tree
347
clack together. The rustling and the clacking is described as mu-
. 348
sic.
The lugubrious m usic of the wind disappears in the din of
^ ^ Sim, p. 67; ibid. , p. 244. 332Ibid.
333Ibid. ; Ep, p. 127. 334Sim, p. 65; Ep, pp. 75-76.
335Ibid. , p. 90. 336Sim, p. 67; VS, p. 55; SC-SC, p. 6 .
337Ep, pp. 75-76. 338VS, p. 19- 339Sim, p. 77.
340VS, p. 15. 3 4 V p. 182. 342VS, p. 19.
343Sim, p. 58; BD, pp. 89-90; VS, p. 140. 344BP, p. 190.
343Sim, p. 60.
346Ibid. , p. 58; BD, p. 24; ibid. , pp. 199, 204; VS, p. 140.
347E£, p. 2; VS, p. 100.
348Sol, p. 147; Lab, p. 126.
68
349
rain. The wail of the rain drowns out chiming bells, rumbling
350
trains, and panting factories. Like m ysterious fingers, it taps
O C l
rhythmically upon the window panes. After the storm, water falling
352
at intervals from leaves makes a light crepitation upon the ground.
3 33 354
A river gurgles, its eddies hum, and its cascades rip-
355 356
pie. A mountain stream sounds at times like an ocean. At other
357
times, its lull puts one to sleep.
In some landscapes, the various sounds produced by animals,
the wind, and running w ater combine to form integrated music. The
whispering of a river and the rustling of trees fill the air with an in
distinct music. 338
Le printemps se devinait h je ne sais quels bruits indistincts cou-
rant dans la tiedeur de l'a ir et rdpercutes h l'infini, chant des taillis
en fete, de la sbve montante, des parfums fralchem ent exhales.
Maintenant derribre une ligne de hauts peupliers qui secouaient
leurs baguettes noires sous la brise, l'Aveyron se devinait prenant
sa part du concert ensoleille.
Yoix etrange de la nuit, voix multiple qui est h la fois partout et
nulle part . . . C e ta it dans l'espace un tressaillem ent sourd, une
polyphonie sans rythme, faite de vols d'insectes et de mouvements
d'herbes. Tout bruissait. L'espace etait plein de frolem ents, de
frissons, de chuchotements si bas qu'on les surprenait h peine. P ar
instant, des grillons stridaient ou bien un moustique rodait, zezayait
sa note aiguB. Caches dans les bas fonds, des crapauds £grenaient
leurs cris melancoliques. On e&t dit que, l'homme dormant, la
te rre prenait 1' dveil et commencjait h vivre.
349Sol, p. 178. 350Fer, p. 241. 351Emp, p. 159.
35ZSim, p. 215. 353Ibid. , pp. 160, 243.
334Ibid. , pp. 6 6 , 160. 333Ibid. , p. 6 6 .
356SC-CB, p. 59; ibid. , p. 64. 357Ibid. , p. 71.
358CP, p. 580; AR, p. 38. 359BD, p. 147.
360VS, pp. 18-19.
69
In contrast to landscapes which present the sounds of nature,
there are nineteen landscapes which emphasize the silence of nature.
This silence occurs during the four seasons of the year and at diverse
hours of the day and night.
361
The vast silence of fields and plains is noted, as well as that
^ A ?
of blooming gardens. The silence of a Roumanian landscape is de
scribed in some detail.
Quel silence'. Nul bruit n 'arriv ait plus en ce lieu charmant.
Sous les courtes bouff£es de brise, les arbres rem uaient h peine.
Quand parfois des caillous roulaient sous nos pieds, le son de leur
chute etait etouff£ par la poussibre. Une paix d'une nature singu-
lifere nous enveloppait, aussi recueillie que dans les cloltres d1 Occi
dent, mais souriante comme celle des campagnes, le s o ir. ° 3
364
Falling snow absorbs all noise. The silence of the evening is char
acterized as being so intense that the air does not stir. One could hear
365
a leaf falling from a tree or a stem bending in the breeze. Nocturn
al silence may be peaceful" ^ 8 or weighty and suspenseful.387 jf- m ay
368
insinuate itself into the brain as if it were going to dissolve the soul.
Or, after a rain storm, it may be a sort of religious contemplation
369
giving the tragic feeling that a violent dram a is imminent.
The Olfactory Sense
There are sixty landscapes which contain olfactory sensations.
p. 261,
361Sim, p. 72; VS, p. 248; ibid. , p. 338; SC-SC, p. 49; SC-IL,
362Emp, pp. 137-138; Sol, p. 200. 363SC-PR, p. 155.'
^ ^Emp, p. 326; F e r , p. 106; Lab, p. 279. ~ ^ 88Ep, p. 216.
366Sim, p. 118. 3 67VS, p. 15. 368SC-IL, p. 281.
38^Sim, p. 215.
7 0 !
370 . 371
Peonies have a heady yet delicate odor of musk. The syringa and
o fy o 373
the m int-3' have a heavy fragrance. The juniper tree and the
b ro o m ^ ^ give off a sweet aroma. On a sum m er evening, the sad odor
of mint mixes with the fresh odor of wormwood, the wild fragrance of
375
arbutus b erries, and the sweet arom a of broom.
In addition to various olfactory im pressions being combined, as
in the preceding example, olfactory sensations may be mixed with tac
tile sensations in the same landscape. The intoxicating odors of preco-
376
cious springtime are imbibed as a cool drink. The fragrant odors
of autumn are inhaled in the warm air as the breeze agitates the foli-
377
age.
Sometimes olfactory, tactile, and auditory im pressions are
combined in one landscape. Balsamic odors lightly caress the skin as
the splashing of a river and the roaring of a mountain torrent are
37 ft
heard. The perfume of plants, the m usic of rustling leaves, and the
37 9
delicious quality of the air produce a unified sensual im pression.
The Tactile Sense
There are sixty-six landscapes which contain tactile sensations.
They are produced by the tem perature and the humidity of the atm os
phere and by direct contact with plants and water.
370Sol, p. 174. 371Ibid.
372Ep,
P-
177; VS, p. 338; SC-SC, p. 7. 373Lab, p. 232.
374VS,
P-
21; Lab, p. 232. 375VS, p. 55.
376s c - CB, p. 62. 377BD, p. 199. 378Lab, p. 231.
379BD,
P-
199; Lab, p. 126.
The coldness of the night and of the winter is characterized,
71'
380
381 382
especially as produced by the wind and the fog. The coolness ex-
383 3 84
perienced in the early morning, after a rain storm, and near
385
running water is depicted. Morning and evening warmth is de-
386 387
scribed. The torrid heat of midsummer is characterized. The
warm, odoriferous caresses of the wind burning the lungs with health-
388
fulness is noted.
389
The damp coldness of early spring nights, the humidity of
390 391
warm summer days and of cool summer evenings, and the heavi-
392
ness of the atmosphere preceding a summer storm are depicted.
393
The lightness of the air in the spring and after a warm summer
rain39^ is noted.
The sticky sensation of holding a branch of broom in one's hand
38Q Fer, p. 13; ibid. , p. 110; Inv, p. 451.
•^^F e r, p. 105; Sol, p. 51; AR, p. 236; Lab, p. 245; MC, p.
382Sol, p. 176; ibid. , p. 186; SC-IL, p. 293.
883Ep, p. 156; VS, p. 51; ibid. , p. 52.
38^Sim, p. 150; ibid. , p. 253.
385Ibid. , p. 66; BD, p. 143.
388Sim, p. 192; Bas, p. 268; AR, p. 77.
387Ep, p. 74; VS, p. 100. 388Sim, p. 55; ibid. , p. 64.
389SC-IL, p. 293. 39°Sim, p. 44; BD^ p. 164.
39*Sim, pp. 76-77; ibid. , pp. 84-85, 156.
392Ibid. , pp. 106-107, 123. 393AB, p. 134.
39^Sim, p. 154.
128.
72’
is described.393 The caressing sensation of water upon the body of one
396
bathing in a river is depicted.
Conclusion
Nature is perceived with the visual, auditory, olfactory, and
tactile senses, but the visual sense predominates. The elements of
line, form, relief, color, and light are more abundant in the landscapes
than the auditory, olfactory, and tactile impressions.
In the preceding pages, we have demonstrated Estauni£'s sensi
tivity to the sensual beauties of nature, developed, as we have stated,
by his firsthand contact with the out-of-doors and by his study of Dutch
painting. The sharp delineating of line and geometrical form bespeaks
the student of vigorous design, harmony, and balance. The careful ob
servation of the effects of light, color, and relief reveal not only the
precise observer of nature, but the artist intent upon creating brilliant
and unusual esthetic im pressions. The variety of forms seen in natur
al phenomena, most of which are related to human beings and their ac
tivities, is an indication of the powerful imagination of the novelist and
the intimate relation that exists between himself and the natural world.
In the perception of nature's melodies and harmonies, he reveals keen
musical sensitivity. Olfactory and tactile impressions, while not as
extensive or highly developed as the visual and the auditory sensations,
nevertheless serve to complete the sensual experience derived from
contact with the natural world. Olfactory, tactile, and auditory sensa
tions are sometimes combined and intermingled in the same
395VS, p. 319.
396c, Q Q
Sim, p. 98.
73’
397
landscape.
The Manner in Which Nature is Presented
The Landscape
The landscapes are well organized. The various parts are in
tegrated into the whole in an orderly, precise manner. The sense of
perspective is retained in each scene. The foreground of the plain of
Belpech contains rivers, meadows, and groves. Above the plain, pop
lars wave in the breeze. In the background are trails of reek, roof-
398
tops, and areas of the soil reflecting the sun's rays. The fore
ground of a landscape near Saint-Julia in the Haute-Garonne contains
an iron cross which stands out against the sky. Children, supervised
by peasant women in red skirts, are playing m arbles nearby. In the
background, as far as the eye can see, stretches the countryside
399
strewn with isolated trees. The various sections of the Meije are
described from the base to the top: the support of green meadows, the
dike of violet escarpments, the colossal wall of gray granite, the roof
of ice, the black ridge, and finally, the pyramid mounting to the heav-
400
ens.
The details of the landscapes are chosen for their sharpness
and distinctness, for their picturesque quality, for the contrast which
they afford with the other details, and for the enriching effect which
they exert upon the entire scene. Earth-colored stems of flowerless
broom dot the soil between Toulouse and Belpech. Villages lie in the
39^Supra, p. 70. 39^Sim, pp. 61-62.
399Ep, pp. 87-88. 4 0Q SC-CB, p. 63.
74
angles of valleys surrounded by pruned grape vines with twisted black
401
stocks. In the m ore mountainous areas, wild juniper trees stand
out, prickling with needles, and dwarfed fig trees hold out their black
leaves in the wind. Undulating reddish hills speckled with villages
stretch out beneath a bluish sky. The wind blows strongly, causing the
soil to vibrate with a whistling which p rogresses from dullness to
s h rilln e s s .^ ^ On a plain, the sun, passing through the foliage of
elms, puts trem bling yellow circles upon the dusty ground. Along the
hedges which run between plowed fields, one hears the songs of birds,
especially the chirping of sparrow s. At tim es, one passes alongside
large clumps of poplars crackling in the wind and grouped in the corner
of a ditch like village jabberers. Below the poplars, a violet shadow
403
refreshes the eye.
Animation
Estaunie's landscapes are realistically conceived and executed.
The phenomena which he describes are concrete and palpable. To off
set the m aterial and the physical, however, to go beyond the lim its
imposed by the five senses, Estaunie adds a spiritual element to his
404
descriptions of nature. He infuses a soul into the trees and plants
40 5
and mountains which he depicts. They become endowed with the
ability to think, to will, and to act as human beings or intelligent ani
m als. There are sixty-three landscapes which are animated.
^ ^ S im , p. 56. ^ ^Ibid. , pp. 59-60. ^ ^Ibid. , p. 58.
^ ^Supra, pp. 10- 2 1 . ^ ^ Supra, pp. 10- 11.
75
Examples have already been cited.4*^ Many others should be noted.
407
Plants shiver with joy in the sunlight. Ranunculi lift their
golden balls high on their thin necks.4^ Trees stretch out their
409
branches above garden walls to oversee the passers-by. 7 Trees on
the edge of the horizon bite the sky.44® Clumps of willows appear to
411
climb a mountain side in pursuit of the peak.
The night, giving way to the dawn, crouches along walls, r e
mains close up against the buttresses of a church, or grovels upon the
412
pebbles of the roadway. The early morning light flows surreptitious
ly toward hollow places, caressing the penumbra in order to persuade
it to depart.443 To enter an attic, the dawn abandons its coquettish
414
airs and insinuates itself in a subtle manner. The sun enters the at
tic in a different way.
A l'inverse de l'aube, le soleil a des airs de guerrier. II force
les jointures, arrache oh il peut la penombre. Tout h coup, il
venait ainsi de s'installer comme un portier, barrant le chemin h la
poussihre. On aurait dit qu'il lui defendait de sortir: et de fait,
celle-ci eut un a rre t imperceptible dans sa m arche. Peut-etre, au
contact de tant de lumihre brutale, avait-elle peur de perdre son
mystbre; toutefois son hesitation ne dura pas, et resolue, la pous-
sihre entra dans la nappe lum ineuse.^^
The sun looks down with discouragement upon the passers-by in the
416
streets who do not look up with joy at the beautiful spring day. The
daylight is extinguished little by little, without one knowing when the
-O —
4®^Supra, pp. 26-27, 38, 45-46.
407Sim, p. 278; BD, p. 147. 408SC-CB, p. 73.
409Em p, pp. 98-99. 410SC-IL, p. 261.
4 1 1SC-CB, p. 96. 4 1 2 VS, p. 52. 4 1 3 CV, p. 72.
414Ibid. , p. 421. 415Ibid. , p. 426. 4 l 6AB, p. 36.
76
417 • 418
invisible stage hand lowers the footlights. The stars smile.
La Meije is adored as a beautiful woman by the protagonist of
the short story "Le cas de Jean Bunant. " Since his arriv al in the
French Alps, he had not ceased to gaze upon her. In the morning, he
would imagine that she was waiting for him at the window to answer
his salutation. In the evening, she would quiet him so that he could go
419
to sleep.
Jam ais il n'avait aim£ de la sorte, avec cette profondeur, ces ex-
tases, dans ce silence. Enfin'. il avait connu des jalousies d'amant,
l'affolement du bonheur entrevu, le doute, l'iv resse d'etre choisi!
II avait eu pour m aitresse une bien aim£e inaccessible et toujours
prdsente, telle qu'aucun mot de la langue humaine n 'arriv erait II la
peindre: et l'aventure avait pris son corps et son §me. A cause
d'elle, il communiait desorm ais avec les bois, les ruisseaux, les
glaces lointaines, le ciel qui change et les rochers qui m ettent de-
vant lui des bornes £ternelles. P ar elle, son coeur de savant, in
expert aux extases juvdniles, etait devenu un champ de fleurs.
Ayant bu h la coupe d'am broisie, par quelle aberration voulait-il la
jeter encore pleine ?
In ascending the peak of his beloved mountain, an ascent which cost
him his life, Jean Bunant felt such a fullness of life that nothing else
A 421
m attered.
Imagery
Natural phenomena are used in eighty-two metaphors and sim i
les to describe destiny, solitude, and the characters themselves. A
torrential stream is likened to the force of destiny embodied in human
passions and desires.
Quand on descend un fleuve violent, il arrive un point oh, le vou-
drait-on, on ne parviendrait jam ais h vaincre la force des eaux pour
en rem onter le cours: Germaine et sa m hre en etaient venues lit et
4 1 7 VS, p. 151. 4 18Emp, p. 146. 419SC-CB, p. 82.
420Ibid. , p. 105. 4 2 1 Ibid. , p. 106.
77
422
n'y pouvaient plus rien.
D£cid£ment la chose £tait s^rieuse. Dans la regard qu'ils
£changkrent, je lus nettement cet amour que vous avez d£fini tout k
l ’heure. Chez vous les gtres sont comme la Dimbovitza. Pendant
longtemps on ne voit dans le lit de celle-ci que des pierres, des
flaques d'eau qa et lk, et des Hots couverts de roseaux. Aux ap-
proches de l'hiver, elle gonfle en une nuit, <|gy.ent un fleuve dnorme:
les ponts sont balay£s, le flot emporte tout.
Emport^e jadis par une force terrible, elle avait dd d£truire les ob
stacles dresses sur sa route: mais n'est-ce pas aussi ce que font
les vrais fleuves, quand, au sortir du glacier, ils se heurtent k des
roches ? II faut de telles batailles pour rouler ensuite vers la m er,
en grandes nappes lentes et sereines!
The metaphorical use of the swift current to describe destiny forms the
conclusion of L1 epave. Here destiny is conceived as the deterministic
forces of heredity, environment, and circumstances acting upon the in-
426
dividual. L'£pave, flotsam, is the symbol of individual initiative
struggling against these determ inistic forces.
J'ai com part jadis la race k un grand fleuve, et les etres qui la
composent k l'eau qui roule, incapable de modifier la route d£jk
trac£e;. Je me trompais.
Nous sommes 1'epave, la feuille morte, ce rien qui flotte k la
surface, emporte par le courant. Tout k coup, ce rien approche du
bord, s'accroche k la rive; il s'arrete. L'eau furieuse fait un re-
mous, le couvre, le secoue: il resiste, il tient, enfin il se d^tache,
mais recommence plus loin.
Or, voici que, peu k peu, d'autres 6paves approchent k leur
tour; lentement, un barrage se forme, il grandit et l'eau, cette fois,
est impuissante. En vain le fleuve bouillonne. s'irrite . II est
vaincu, il se d£tourne, la route est chang^e.
Ocean currents are utilized to depict the force of destiny when it is
428
conceived as a transcendent entity.
^ ^ BD, p. 163. river in Roumania. ^ ^Inv. , p. 450.
425p y > pp< 245-246. ^ ^ Supra, pp. 5-10.
^ ^ E p , pp. 239-241. ^ ^Supra, pp. 18-19.
78
Je vous affirme que le monde est semblable h la m er. A la su r
face, il y a de petites vagues innombrables qui blanch!ssent, bcu-
ment, se battent, disparaissent . . . m ais plus bas, les couranto
circulent, invisibles, et ce sont eux qui poussent les navires!
Je croyais voguer seul dans la nuit: tout ce qui approchait de mon
sillage etait happe, culbutb, noyb. Tu ne m 'as fait du m al que pour
avoir approche de m a route. Tu te flattes peut-Stre-d'avoir agi
seul, car on s'imagine toujours btre une activity libre, et la pensbe
de rouler au gr 6 du flot humilie: quelle erreurl Un remous t 1 avait
conduit vers moi, et t'ayant rencontrd, je t'ai bless £ comme les
autres1 .43®
Destiny as a transcendental force is also symbolized by the wind. We
431
noted previously that the strong wind which bears down upon the hap
less heroine of L1 bpave is a symbol of the harshness of life, or of des
tiny, conceived in term s of heredity, environment, and circum stances.
In later novels, the wind becomes a symbol of a transcendental rather
than of a m aterialistic destiny.
Des annees, on vit c6te h cSte, et les Smes restent ferm des. Une
rafale passe, le livre s'ouvre, les feuillets tournent, mais le livre
est em portel^^
A-t-on bien vu que, lorsque le destin s'en mele, il va comme
le vent et jonche la route avec les coeurs-jnps pauvres coeurs hu-
mains ? Ainsi se font les feuilles m ortes.
The sea is a symbol for the solitude of life.
Je viens en votre Eglise comme le naufragb aborde un rivage
inconnu: si arides qu'en soient les bords, ce naufragb s'y jette; il
le benit sans m§me savoir s'il y trouvera la nourrituje, car c'est
dejh la terre ferme et le sol qui ne se dbrobe point.
II n'btait plus qu'un naufrage qui sombre en vue du port. L'eau dbjh
monte h sa bouche; il salt qu'il va m ourir et, malgrb qu'il le sache,
sa dernibre convulsion est encore un appel'.^-^
The Meije also represents solitude.
429VS, p. 394. 430Lab, p. 10. 4 3 1Supra, pp. 27-28.
432CV, p. 393. 433Bas, p. 247. 434E m p ,.p . 343.
43 5,.c
VS, p. 46.
19
A l'heure oil j'e c ris ces lignes, j'aperqois, depuis m a fenStre,
un alpiniste et deB guides qui s'apprStent k escalader la Meije.
Pauvres gens'. Quand ils seront parvenus lk-haut, en d£pit de tant
d'efforts, ils ne connaltront de la m erveille qu'un sentier p^rilleux.
Ils auront risqu£ leur vie pour n'apercevoir, en fin de compte, que
d'autres ciraes et une ceinture d'ablmes empSchant d'y atteindre.
. . . A ceux qui pr^tendraient pdn^trer complbtement le secret d'un
coeur humain, fdt-il le plus proche, je dirais volontiers qu'autant
vaut, comme ces grim peurs, p artir pour une Meije. A l'arriv£e,
l'unique recompense qui les attend est aussi la d^couverte de la
ceinture d'ablmes les isolant de l'univers, cependant au'au delk le
m ystkre des ames peuple l'espace, sans 1' £ clairer.
Persons, as well as the forces of destiny and solitude, are
compared to natural phenomena in various metaphors and sim iles. The
characters of the novels, novelettes, and short stories are compared
to trees, plants, pieces of fruit, birds, spiders, and dogs.
Aujourd'hui tout se taisait au fond de lui, la paix etait venue, [il
avait perdu sa foi religieuse. ] On voit ainsi, dans la campagne, de
vieux saules reduits II leur seule £corce; ils tiennent contre le vent,
mais la shve a c e s s i de les vivifier. II etait pareil h cet arbre,
sterile et robuste.
--Je songe, repondit-il, la voix trem blante, que les vieux ar-
bres doivent m ourir seuls, et qu'avant peu l'heure viendra pour toi
de me quitter.
Elle sourit, effar£e: 438
--P b re, est-ce que le lierre peut quitter l'a rb re ?
Comment, auprhs d'une telle m ire , Line se serait-elle epanouie ?
II devait en §tre de son Sme comme de certaines plantes aux ap~
proches de la nuit: les feuilles se replient, les p^tales se ferment,
et le jardinier ne sait plus s'il a devant lui des fleurs ou des bou-
tons.439
Arlette continuait d'£voquer l'im age d'un fruit de plein air robuste
et sain .4 4 0
Entre un passe devenu supplice et des lendemains qui accablaient.
sa pensee voletait comme un oiseau de nuit 6 g a r 6 dans une pifece.
C 'est Noemi, guettant l'lnconnui Nolmi, dlsorm ais, n '6taitp lu s
qu'un chasseur k l'afftlt. Noemi attendait le gibier, comme le fait
436sq1, pp. 4 - 5 . 437^ m p> p_ 1 7 4. 438^,^ 32-33.
4 3 9CV, pp. 216-217. 4 4 °Sol, p. 143. 441AB, p. 187.
80
lk, dans le coin, cette araign^e.442
. p areil au chien qui va m ourir, je demande k rendre le
dernier souffle k l'ab ri des regards, et solitaire.
4 4 2CV. p. 269.
443AE, p. 108.
CHAPTER IV
EMOTIVE NATURE
Nature and Joy
Nature arouses sensual and spiritual joy in the spring and sum
m er months. The rebirth of life as represented by the germination of
trees and plants and the reproducing of birds, insects, and animals has
its counterpart in the reawakening of the sensual being of the charac
ters and the rebirth of their spiritual capacity to love and to find satis
faction in the world about them. Indeed, nature as a source of sensual
joy is not clearly distinguished from nature as a source of spiritual
joy; the two types of emotion are often blended together into a single
emotional experience which partakes of both the physical and the sp ir
itual. Sometimes nature loses its power to arouse joy within the char
acter and becomes m erely an intensifying agent or a symbol of an emo
tion already felt.
The joy of estival nature affects not only the characters, but -
animals, trees, plants, and other natural objects as well. When Ste-
phane Deschantres^ and his m other arrive at the farm which they have
rented for the summer, they are greeted by a flock of geese running to
escape the wheels of their carriage, a sheep dog barking furiously, and
frightened barnyard creatures scurrying wildly about. A tumult of dis
cordant cries emanates from invisible recesses, singing a joyous
* Supra, pp. 6-7.
81
82
welcome. The journey has ended with a feast of sunshine, greenery,
and songs. The enchantment of ineffable hope arises from all sides.
2
Human m iseries would have put a blemish on the universal joy.
Toward sum m er’s end, Stephane notes the brilliance of the mid
day. The woods are decorated with reddish-brown tints resembling the
glow of an immense fire. The sun envelops the landscape with a fiery
embrace. The natural objects have fainted with joy; the swollen stems
of plants trem ble with sensuous pleasure. The intoxicating warmth
spreads delightful exhaustion through the air. In every direction, he
sees the same sunlit fields and woods, the same burst of leaf and flow
er, the same luminous kisses. The great m ystery of reproduction
takes place in the impassible serenity. An immense beatitude arises
from the invisible germs at the top of the trees. All human suffering
and despair seem infinitesimal and paltry compared to this gigantic joy
3
which is shared by all the natural objects in the landscape.
Bonne-Dame, the heroine of the novel of the same name, ob
serves that as the earth awakens in the springtime, the plants shiver
with sensual joy. Indistinct sounds reverberate to infinity in the warm
air: the song of bushes in festival attire, of sap oozing from the trees,
of fragrances given off by the flowers. Behind a line of high poplars
which shake their black whips in the breeze, a river participates in the
sunlit concert.^
Nature in a less exuberant, m ore restful mood is observed by
Bonne-Dame. Her house has a gay look. The shutters open out upon
the caress of a fall day. Smiles pervade the dwelling. The warm sun
2Sim, p. 67. 3Ibid. , pp. 277-278. 4BD, p. 147.
83
waits fragrant odors through the air. A gentle breeze causes the gold-
5
en veil of perfumed leaves which surround the house to rustle.
The sensual joys which the sun, the trees, plants, and flowers,
the rivers, and the animals experience in the fertile months of the
year, when nature is reproducing her own kind, is another m anifesta
tion of Estauni£'s tendency to animate the natural phenomena which he
L
describes. The physical joy experienced by the objects in the land
scapes is shared by the human beings whose lives bring them in at
least temporary contact with nature.
The sensual joys which Stephane Deschantres experiences dur
ing his summer in the country hasten his emotional and sexual m aturi
ty. He feels a renewal of life when he gazes upon nature’s vastness.
He is astonished by the trees, the earth, and all those things which he
7
has never seen before growing freely in the vast open spaces. A land
scape with monotonous undulations and wornout soil captivates him.
He feels the sensation of a renewal of life, the joy of finding himself
surrounded by the immensity of space. At the summit of a hill, he
stops and looks behind him in amazement. He contrasts the vast coun
tryside stretching out before him with the cramped and m eager green
ery of Toulouse and Paris. Breathing in the pure air, he shakes his
9
head in ecstasy. The gaiety of the things of the earth gives him an ap
petite for happiness. A marvelous new vent is provided for his pent-up
youth. There is summer in his soul as weil as in the fields?-9 As he
rambles aimlessly through the country, his mental activity is absorbed
^Ibid. , p. 199. ^Supra, pp. 74-76. ^Sim, p. 55.
8Ibid., pp. 58-59. 9Ibid. , p. 60. 10Ibid., p. 70.
8 4 ':
by a physical activity which attaches him to the soil as if he were a
peasant. The immutability and vastness of nature are absorbed into
his being
As the weeks go by, the beautiful takes on definite forms and
contours for Stephane as he gazes continuously upon stretches of land
burned by the intense summer sun, upon brilliant colors, gay verdure,
and rushing rivers. Desires come to him gradually: the physical need
to love, the anguish of waiting which, in his innocence, he confuses
with the poetry of nature. His virility awakens in the intoxicating air.
Each day widens the gap between his past and present. Unknown and
12
troubling thoughts obsess his mind and cause his body to shudder.
These disturbing thoughts come into his consciousness at the
same time that he is experiencing the sensual joys which nature pro
vides. The disquietude becomes associated with exhilaration and lan
guor, causing an ambivalence which sharpens the conflicting feelings.
He experiences a delightful languor during a hot summer after
noon spent talking with his older m arried cousin, Sidonie Ferram us,
toward whom he feels an invincible attraction. When he leaves her, a
vague disquietude permeates his being, a pointless uneasiness of the
senses, a na’ i've shamelessness communicated to him by the warmth of
the air, the fragrance of the verdure, and the amorous caress of plants
exhausted with sunlight. An enchanted poem of trees, river, meadows,
and fields stretches out before him. A succession of shady roads,
leafy sinuosities, and silhouettes of bushes are drowned in the tender
light of sunset. There is an indescribable languor in the air. A
11 Ibid., p. 89. 12Ibid. , p. 90.
sudden impetuous joy causes him to run madly. He stops to listen to
the song of a bird and to the rustling in bushes. He falls down upon the
grass and loses him self in a dream looking up at the opaline blue of the
sky. It appears to recede indefinitely, giving the sensation of em pti
ness. Indecent thoughts obsess him. He exerts every fiber of his be
ing to rep ress them. A struggle takes place within him between his r e
ligious desires and an aim less longing which bruises him with pleasure,
a struggle in which the agonies of temptation become so delightful that
he seeks to recall them to mind.
Stephane experiences the same intoxication of the senses, the
same silent need to love, when he bathes in the Vic-Sibge. The sight
of his naked flesh disturbs him. He feels the caressing sensation of
the w ater and shivers. Overwhelmed by a sudden and inexplicable
13
sense of shame, he dresses hastily and runs home.
The sensual joys which nature awakens in Stephane Deschantres
14
and Leonard Clan are so intense that the two desire to effect the clos
est possible contact between themselves and their surroundings. When
Stephane rolls in the wet grass, he experiences a strange joy. He
15
shivers with delight as he feels the coolness all over his body. In the
dazzling month of April, nature's fragrances exalt Leonard's desires.
Infatuated with a loose woman of P aris, he longs to drink in the pure
air of the country and to roll in wet g reen ery .^
The brightness of the sum m er sun conveys a sense of physical
well being, sensual delight, and joy. The peasants of Belpech, after a
13Ibid. , pp. 97-98.
•^S im , p. 88.
* ^Supra, pp. 7 - 8 .
* ^Em p, p . 272.
86'
rain storm, move about in amazement. Once more they feel the burn
ing radiation of the sun. They form a confused mass of silhouettes
hopping upon one foot to dry themselves, a helter-skelter of people who
17
appear to dance away in a state of exhilaration. Stephane and his
cousin, Sidonie Ferram us, walk along happily in the brilliant sunlight
18 —
which intensifies all the colors.
Stephane wakes up at half past five each morning, roused by the
light which already fills the farm house. The white curtains of his bed
chamber let in the joyous rays of the sun. He hears the songs of birds,
the rustling of branches, and the agitation of summer mornings. Only
19
half awake, he feels delightfully giddy in the bright light. He goes
outside to tramp aimlessly through the countryside. He enjoys the in
effable joy of the reawakening of the earth, the solitude, the emptiness
of the roads which are free of dust, the verdure dampened with dew,
and the tints of the trees which, in the white light of the dawn, appear
20
drowned in blue reek.
The joy which blooming nature communicates to the characters
is not only physical, but spiritual. Contact with the warm air, the p er
fumed fragrances, the luminosity, and the harmonious sounds of a v er
nal or an estival landscape, coupled with an awareness of the eternal
fecundity of the earth, produces within the individual a corresponding
spiritual rebirth. Intense joy bursts forth in his heart as he feels a re
surgence or an intensification of the love which he bears another.
It seems to Stephane that the gaiety of the earth has been
17Sim, p. 30. 18Ibid. , p. 36.
2Q Ibid. , pp. 87-88.
19Ibid. , pp. 190-191.
87
communicated to him self and to his m other, that under the trees only
words of love can be uttered. The anguish which he has felt is now fo r
gotten. The wind has swept it away with w arm caresses, leaving not
even a light bruise. Feeling a sudden burst of tenderness, Stephane
kisses his m o th er. ^
In ChcLteaudun, in the E u re-et-L o ire, a prem ature sum m er de
scends upon the inhabitants. Each day is lengthened by an ash-colored
twilight. With the gaiety of the earth shivering with sap, the w arm er
air, the soaring perfum es, and the chirping of sparrow s, Bonne-Dame
22
feels an ardent desire to see her beloved daughter once again.
She takes the train to Montauban, in the Tarn-et-G aronne,
where her daughter, Germaine, resides. As she approaches the town,
she notices that the plain is intersected by hedges, grape vines, and
meadows shaded with gigantic elms. The festival of early spring s u r
rounds her. The buds are already putting violet tints upon the sleeping
woods. The rebirth of nature produces a renewal of the intense passion
which she feels for Germaine. She wants to be with her daughter that
instant. Repressing the te ars, she listens to the joyous song of the
birds perched upon telegraph w ires. The train whistles. Through the
2 3
lowered window, gusts of delicious air enter the compartment.
When Bonne-Dame arriv es at her daughter's home, she becomes
aware of G erm aine's lack of affection for her. She becomes b itter and
sorrowful. During a Sunday carriage ride taken by Bonne-Dame, G er
maine, and Oscar, G erm aine's husband, the beauties of the landscape
amend, for a brief period, the strained relationship between the two
2 1Ibid. , pp. 63-64. 22BD, pp. 89-90. 2 3Ibid. , p. 109.
88
women. Joy and love are reborn in their hearts as they contemplate
the reawakening of the earth.
Une radieuse aprbs-m idi. Dans le ciel oh de ra re s nuages pas-
saient, le bleu s'enfongait dbmesurbment. Le long de la route,
dans les champs, sur les branches de taillis, sur les chSnes, sur
les peupliers m is en toilettes claires de bourgeons neufs, des v e r
dures neuves s'etalaient.
Lor s que la brise pas salt, on aurait dit que leur m arche fht en-
veloppbe par des bouquets, et c'etait dans l'a ir cet innommable, ce
sourire sans lbvres dont se font les grandes joies du printem ps qui
revient.
Trbs loin, cependant, les collines de l'Aveyron s'btaient cou-
vertes d'om bres caressan t les yeux. L'eau se devinait h leurs
pieds, h une fraicheur rbpandue, aux sureaux feuillus, aux orm es
plus chantants: et de cette grande renaissance de vie, qui r^pandait
sur I1 -horizon un m urm ure m ystbrieux, une sbrbnitb se levait, amol-
lissante. Enfin'. Bonne-Dame se sentait dblivree du fardeau qui de-
puis trois jours 1'btouffait. Dimanche, jour de fSte, grande joie'.
Germaine non plus ne p arlait point. . . . Justem ent parce qu'elles ne
se parlaient point, Bonne-Dame et Germaine se devinaient rap-
prochees. L 'attendrissem ent des choses les avait envahies, et
l'oubli, cet btrange m ystbre que les coeurs ne sauraient conduire,
l'oubli tombait, changeant leurs ames.
Another type of spiritual rebirth is experienced by l'abbb Taf-
fin at the dawn and sunrise. N ature's colors are lustrous; the
earth appears new. He feels an inner serenity as he looks toward the
light. Anguish and fatigue and discouragem ent will return later. Now
27
he only wants to get on his knees to give thanks for this blessing.
The spiritual joy which Jean Bunant derives from nature results
from his conviction that the Meije is a beautiful woman with whom he
28
has fallen in love. His passion is intense and exclusive. He experi
ences profound ecstasies in the silence of nature. He passes through
2 4Ibid. , pp. 142-143.
2 ^Supra, pp. 42-43.
^^Supra, p. 76.
^ Supra, p. 15.
2 7 VS, pp. 51-53.
90'
Julien ecstatically gazes upon the city whose life of pleasure and ele-
33
gance will compensate for all of his suffering.
Having won a large sum of money gambling in Belgium, he
wraps it in a handkerchief and sits down to eat. The sun has pierced
through the clouds. Trains whistle joyously. It seems as if all nature
wishes to celebrate his departure for Paris to enjoy the life of which he
has always dream ed.^
Late one afternoon, Julien's eyes seek out the Tuileries. Only
enchanted sunlight is visible, sowing gold everywhere. From the other
window, he sees a gilded river, golden houses p'and steep banks bathed
in gold. A mad joy dilates his heart and mounts toward his brain. He,
Julien Dartot, the son of a peasant, a poverty-stricken tutor, a poor
chemist in Belgium, is going to become a manipulator of men and of
millions. He wants to cry out the intoxicating joy which fills his be-
ing.35
Paris cries out the disappearance of Dazenel, the regrettable
end of his enterprise, the glorious future of the Society of the Mekong,
of which Julien owns the control. The sun streams forth in waves.
o L
Julien closes his eyes and savors his happiness.
The bright sun streaming down upon the old streets of Dijon be
comes a symbol of the rebirth of joy in the heart of Aurelie Goubin, one
of the characters of Tels qu'ils furent, when she realizes that her
mother has never stopped loving her. It is one of those days which
seems to carry with it a rebirth of all things. An ineffable emotion is
33Fer, pp. 59-60. 3^Ibid. , p. 256.
36Ibid. , pp. 334-335.
35Ibid. , p. 312.
91
seen on Aur^lie's face. An unexpected m ildness and calmness pacifies
37
her features. She is ready to ask for forgiveness and to give thanks.
The sensual joys which Rend de la Gilardihre and Annette T ra-
versot, the lovers of L'appel de la route, derive from gazing upon an
estival landscape m erely echo and intensify the happiness which they
already feel in being together. As they wander about on the terrace of
Annette's home, the green hills extend toward them the first fruits of a
precocious sum m er. At their feet, a river whispers its laughing ap-
38
proval. They perceive only light and breathe only perfume.
The calm and the immensity of an evening landscape harmonize
with the peaceful joy which radiates from Jean Pesnel and his wife
39
when they are together. As they wanter aim lessly in the countryside,
they note the silence and the solitude. Above them is an immense sky;
before them is an unlimited horizon. They take silent possession of
40
the happiness which is spread out upon the earth.
The sensual beauties of another landscape intensify the joy
which Jean experiences in having his brother and his wife with him.
The air is saturated with balsamic odors. It caresses the skin softly.
One river ripples and another dashes madly on. The twisted pines,
stretching out their green arm s, seem to be gnomes which have run to
the foot of the park to form a laughing guard. The facade of Camba-
leyres, Jean's estate, is am bered by the setting sun. Jean advances in
41
a mood which might have been inspired by an epithalamium.
37TF, pp. 309-310. 38AR, p. 198.
3^Suprar p. 19. 40Lab, pp. 127-128.
4 1 Ibid. , p. 231.
89
moods of jealousy, exhilaration, doubt, and intoxication. His beloved
is inaccessible and yet ever present. He is able to communicate with.
the woods, the stream s, the rocks, the distant ice fields, and the
29
changing sky. He feels a oneness with all nature.
In climbing the Meije to his death, he moves like an automaton,
m echanically following the directions of the guide. His ears buzz. He
breathes rapidly, gluttonously. The air has never seem ed m ore deli
cious. His body shudders when he touches the stones which form a
30
part of the mountain. He feels such a fullness of life that nothing
else m atters. He is confident that he will be united forever with the
31
beautiful woman who beckons to him in the form of the Meije.
Joy as an emotive force occasioned by the contemplation of
spring and sum m er landscapes is associated prim arily with two p ro
tagonists of the naturalistic period, Stephane Deschantres and Bonne-
Dame. Nature, however, does not always evoke or inspire the joyous
mood of itself. It m ay intensify a joy which is already felt by the char
acter or it may symbolize the state of the inner being.
32
The bright sun becomes a symbol of Julien D artot's joy. Hav
ing broken definitively with his father, of whom he is ashamed, Julien
enjoys the sim plicity of a new conception of life: he will only have to
think of himself. Energy courses through his veins. He is confident of
surmounting all obstacles with ease. As if to excite his ardor, the sun
pierces through the fog. Above the neighboring rooftops, other roof
tops surge in serried waves. P aris bursts through the m ist, and
29SC-CB, p. 105.
3 1 Ibid. , p. 106.
3Q Ibid. , pp. 107-108.
33Supra, pp. 8-10.
92'
Nature and Peace
Peace is evoked by a wide expanse of fields, by a garden or
park of profuse vegetation, and by the dying day. After a sleepless
night, Therbse Wimereux, the heroine of L1 £pave, goes out to wander
aimlessly through the fields. It is dawn. She needs to be far from the
village, to breathe the healthy odor of the furrows, and to absorb the
42
divine peace of nature.
She notes the silence and the ideal serenity of a torrid morning.
The sunlight absorbs in its triumphant joy the vanity and painfulness of
life. She finds consoling rest everywhere. She observes the peace of
plants intoxicated by the sun. She sees the furrows staring at the m o
tionless azure. Her irritation at the scornful world melts into haughty
indifference. What are human invectives in comparison with the odor
iferous and silent earth? The grass continues to grow, the fields ger
minate, the wind bends the trees. A voluptuousness rises from the
soil. Therhse shrugs her shoulders and sm iles, consoled.43
The N arrator of "Les Jauffrelin" notes that walking through the
fields is both healthful and pacifying. His feeling of loneliness vanishes
and he no longer w orries about the future. His thinking processes be
come clear. In returning home, his mind is on the sunlight and the
44
flowering branches.
lie 45
M Peyrolles and M arc feel relieved to see a vast plain
stretching out before them. They would have liked to have it always
present, invisible witness, impassible, palpitating with an immense,
4 2Ep, pp. 155-156.
44Sol, p. 157.
4 3Ibid. , pp. 167-170.
43Supra, pp. 20-21.
93
hidden life. It would serve to excuse their silence and their timidity.
46
They become drowned in its peace.
Leonard, while still a student at Saint-Louis de Gonzague, a
Jesuit school at Nevers, m ust make up his m ind whether or not to en
te r the priesthood during a re tre a t at an abandoned m onastery outside
the city. The peace of sum m er has descended upon the m onastery g a r
den. The pathw ays'are overgrown with vegetation. A deep shadow is
cast upon the ground. Nature is silent and m otionless. The plain of
47
Nevers, bathed in blue, stretches out in the distance.
The cem etery where Leonard attends the burialof his best friend,
Jouques, seem s like a garden. Hedges of ro w geraniums border flow
er beds. Clipped laurel bushes veil the graves. C ypresses and yews
intertwine with the hair of elms. After the coffin has been covered with
earth, the physical h o rro r of death vanishes. Henceforth, Jouques
will live idealized in the m em ory of his friend. Leonard does not want
to leave the cem etery. Peace descends upon him. M ysterious bonds
attach him to the soil of which Jouques has just taken possession. The
pathway down which he is walking is so overgrown with vegetation that
48
no shadow falls upon the ground.
Bonne-Dame delights in the garden of her home at Chateaudun.
In the fall months, when the fragrance of flowers still fills the air, she
spends her afternoons there. The peace of her surroundings is ab
sorbed into her being. The rustling of leaves and the faint cries of
birds lull her to sleep .49
4 6 VS, pp. 118-119.
4 8Ibid. , pp. 302-303.
4 7Em p, pp. 137-138.
4 9 BP, p. 204.
94!
At the Grand Trianon, there is an enchanting solitude. The
faint beat of wings breaks the silence but rarely. Luxuriant branches
sway noiselessly and squirrels dash by without making a sound. Noth
ing is m ore beautiful than this deserted place where nature and man
50
combine their forces to please only the passing clouds.
Therfese and Melanie, her servant, contemplate the vast land
scape which stretches out before their home. The serenity of day's
end descends upon them. Little clouds sparkle in the azur, like golden
lakes. In the distance, clumps of trees cast violet shadows upon the
ground. ^
52
Jean P esnel's love for Alice de Yaubajour is tainted with a
feeling of guilt. He speaks to her concerning his desire to m a rry her.
Then, left alone, he turns toward the horizon and contemplates the im
m ensity which stretches out before him. He wants to bathe in the
serenity of the earth. The evening light penetrates into his soul, invit-
ing it to rest.
Stephane's burden of suffering becomes so great that he seeks
oblivion in the calm of a r i v e r . ^ The Vic-Sifege attracts him with its
transparent clearness and its m urm uring. He recalls the delightful
moments spent bathing in its placid depths, the gentle caress of its
55
w aters. He rushes headlong into the river to drown him self and to
partake of the unknown and ineffable re s t which he believes awaits him.
He will return to the peaceful life of all the natural objects which
50AR, p. 71.
^ Supra, p. 19.
^ S u p ra , p. 6 .
51Ep, pp. 80-81.
5 3Lab, p. 93.
33Sim, pp. 242-243.
95’
56
continue to smile around Mm in the radiant sunlight.
Nature is not always a source of peace. Sometimes.it m erely
harmonizes with a mood of inner calm already achieved.
Stephane experiences a glad calmness when Ms m other and Ms
older cousin, Sidonie, show affection toward him. One evening, all
three take a walk together. The sky is covered with a red veil. A deep
calm descends upon the trees, the hedges, and the fields of alfalfa rip-
57
pling in the breeze. A languor fills their being. Another time, St£-
phane and Sidonie walk alone in the m ild freshness of a sum m er night.
Nature is in a mood of sovereign harmony and peace. Stephane's inner
being is at rest. The sky is dotted with twinkling stars, and the silhou
ettes on the horizon disappear in the indistinct folds of the chiaroscu-
58
ro.
The afternoon of Bonne-Dame's wedding, she and her husband
stroll for the last time in the park of her estate in the F ran ch e-C o m tl
It is autumn. The reddish-brown leaves are shaped like m etal plates.
The trees wave in the breeze with a melancholy rustling. The newly
wedded pair feel the intense satisfaction of walking arm in arm and of
contemplating a future of serenity. They travel to their new abode in a
coach drawn by an old gray donkey. The animal almost collapses on
the way. It is nightfall when they arrive. The landscape is bathed in a
milky penumbra. Bonne-Dame and her husband are at peace as they
59
gaze upon the cM aroscuro and feel the warm th of the night air.
Nature, source of peace, is not as important or Mghly
56lbid. , p. 279. 57Ibid. , p. 72. 5 8Ibid. , pp. 84-85.
59BD, pp. 24-25.
96 '
developed as nature, source of joy. The landscapes which evoke peace
lack the sensual detail of those which evoke joy. Inner serenity is
aroused by the contemplation of vast fertile plains or gardens and
parks of luxuriant vegetation. The vast powers of orderly growth and
development which are observed in nature make human suffering seem
insignificant and paltry. The sensual delights of the spring and sum m er
calm the troubled mind. The last glowing rays of the setting sun and
the approaching darkness of night also bring peace. The suffering of
the day is over, and the inner being, in harmony with its surroundings,
looks forward to a night of rest. When the suffering of life becomes so
intense that it is unbearable, eternal rest is sought in nature. Con
templating a return to the peaceful life of the natural objects which he
sees about him, Stephane Deschantres drowns himself in the quiet
depths of a river.
Nature and Depression
Depression is associated with fog, clouds, wind, snow, and the
end of day. The som berness, the harshness, and the emptiness of the
landscape produce a mood of depression or harmonize with a p re
existent melancholy.
Bonne-Dame is greatly disheartened at the difficulties she en
counters in her search for a rest home in which to retire. She is alone
in P aris. At twilight, the gas lights of the Champs Elys^es light up
one by one, putting golden points on the gray background of the sky. A
lifeless fog rises slowly, draping the trees. A great sadness rises
with it, the sadness of October which grips the soul as a presage of
97
60
w inter’s bleakness. Bonne-Dame is entering old age alone.
The fog of P a ris harm onizes with Julien's ennui. It rises slow
ly from the ground and stretches out above the roof tops like smoke.
Draped in white, P a ris seem s dead. No form appears on the horizon .^
Thbrhse takes a walk at sunset. The landscape which she views
is spacious. Like a river, the branches of the trees descend the slope
below Saint-Julia, stretch out as far as Montaigut, and then go down
hill toward Revel to inundate the lim itless plain. The black screen of
the Montagne Noire is hardly visible in the distance. Everyw here else,
from Castelnaudary to C astres, there is a vaguely defined forest,
thinly sown, above which are m ists colored lilac and mauve, as the
sky. F rom this unified twilight landscape, an invincible sadness
arises, the sadness of day's end upon a vast expanse w here nothing
moves. The death of nature produces a corresponding death of hope in
T hbrhse's heart.
She is depressed because life has lost its meaning for her. Na
ture seem s indifferent to her loneliness and suffering. The night fog
has risen from the lower depths, forming a sea of clouds below Saint-
Julia. Two farm s, in the form of ships, stand out in the moonlight on
the surface of this sea. The sound of church bells peals forth and then
dies in the distance. Silence follows. Therhse sees only clouds and
black em ptiness.
The N arrato r of "Les Jauffrelin" is m elancholy because his two
friends, P ie rre and A rlette Jauffrelin, are unhappy together. Lake
60Ibid. , pp. 266-267.
62Ep, pp. 91-92.
6 1F er, p. 40.
6 3lbid. , pp. 107-109.
98
Geneva has become gray in the evening m ist. The meadows and the
chestnut trees have turned black. The icy shadow of evening falls. An
extraordinary melancholy em anates from the earth, which seem s to
64
shiver as it prep ares for the death of night.
The N arrato r of L 'infirm e aux m ains de lum ihre walks through
the streets of Bordeaux, prey to an extrem e depression for which he
can find no reason. The sky is swollen with rain clouds. The glaring
sign boards, the store windows spotted with mud, and the oozing pave
m ent all unite in the sam e monotonous grisaille and reek of mold. The
stones of the facades take on a leaden hue like the faces of sick people.
The muddy w aters of the Gironde roll along, while, tied to the docks,
65
the m otionless boats appear to be putrefying jetsam .
In the south of France, one notes the m elancholy of the autumn.
The wind blows with great force, enveloping the walls with sad m oan-
ings. The trees bend over with black tints in the gray, dusty atm os
phere. Clouds of debris from the threshing floor strike against nearby
66
window panes to produce a crackling sound like hail.
In the winter, the vast stretches of the Beauce are covered with
a winding sheet of snow. The poplars which border the roads form
som ber shapes against the bleak sky. An overwhelming depression de
scends upon the inner being. A sadness without rem edy seizes the
6 7
h eart when one gazes upon this lifeless scene.
64Sol, p. 176.
67BD, p. 211.
65SC -IL , p. 216. 66Sim, p. 208.
99
Nature and Anxiety
Anxiety is associated with weather which precedes a storm.
The anxiety exists already within the individual. The mood of nature
m erely harmonizes with that of the character.
Stephane is greatly disturbed about his beloved tutor's proposed
m arriage to a woman with a bad reputation. The apprehension which
he feels concerning the welfare of the tutor harmonizes with the silent
and motionless landscape which portends a sum m er storm. The faint
tolling of bells expires in the bushes, adding to the melancholy of the
blue night. No moon is visible. The atmosphere is warm and heavy;
6 8
stifling vapors rise from the earth.
The next morning, still suffering anxiety on account of the
forthcoming m arriage, Stephane walks slowly to the town of Belpech.
The sky is overcast. The false lighting of a storm which is imminent
69
is reflected from the pavement. The air is m oist and humid.
Leonard is on his way to see Phre Propiac, the Jesuit priest
70
who had been his confessor at Saint-Louis de Gonzague. He has not
seen Phre Propiac for seven years. Leonard's attitude is defiant. In
wardly, he accuses the Jesuit of having distorted his mind and con
science for his own selfish purposes. A bitter wind is blowing. The
71
dust-laden air covers the houses and drowns the trees in its sadness.
Julien, realizing that he has no money to live on, is overcome
by an immense distress. He looks at the sinister P arisian horizon
which is lighted by .the bleakness of a winter day. The sky appears to
68Sim, pp. 106-107. 6 9Ibid. , p. 123.
7QSupra, pp. 7-8. ^ Emp, p. 190.
100
fall lower each minute. It seems to be held up by only two rows of
trees. An icy winter wind sweeps the ground and raises clouds of
dust.72
When Jude Servin, a factory owner, awakens one morning, he
begins to w orry about the woman he hired over the protests of the
w orkers. He is fearful of a general strike. The sky is covered with
clouds. The plain outside his window appears dead under the burden of
73
heavy m ist. The nearby town looks like a pile of ruins.
When Ida Cadifon wakes the day of her departure for Blaizot,
where she is going to investigate the mysterious suicide of her board-
74
er, the sun is no longer shining. The sky is covered with clouds
7 5
which seem level with the plateau. A storm is imminent.
Nature and Fear
Fear is associated with the night. In the darkness, mysterious
beings seem lurking, intent upon some sinister activity. The night may
be the source of fear, or it may intensify the fear which is already
present within the character.
M. Lethois walks home alone from a whist party at M ^e Pay-
7 6
rolles' home. With each step, little pebbles slide downhill. As they
strike against each other, the sound is magnified in the still air. Si
lence and darkness is everywhere. The highway which leads away
from the town is covered by a dome of oaks. Two hovels are leaning
against a slope. A fig tree advances its curious head. The valley in
7^F e r, pp. 104-105. 7 ^ VS, p. 179. ^ S u p ra , p. 12.
7^MC, p. 131. 7^Supra, pp. 14-16.
101 '
the distance cannot be seen.
M. Lethois shivers. The two hovels, the twisted fig tree, and
the dome of elms evoke a vague fear within him. The air seem s to be
filled with inexplicable m ovem ents. He has the im pression that hidden
beings are breathing all about him. His fingers trem ble, his ears
buzz, and his whole being vibrates in an indefinable and painful way.
Dull sounds trav e rse the air, a rhythm less polyphony composed of the
flights of insects and of the movement of grass. M. Lethois is te rr i-
77
fied; he cannot think or even move.
Alone one night, Therhse walks along the pathway bordering her
home. Sinister prem onitions haunt her. What will tom orrow bring to
her lonely and uncertain existence? She scrutinizes the night which
surrounds her. The objects in the landscape take on a disquieting a s
pect. The earth seem s to shiver with a hidden life. The sound of her
footsteps appear to be those of a m ysterious companion. Suddenly she
stops, frozen with te rro r. She thinks that she has heard someone in
her house. What if robbers should com e? How could she and her s e r v
7 8
ant defend them selves in their isolated country dwelling?
The boy who n arrates "La d£couverte" has run away from his
family. He and his friend are alone in the forest at night. The d ark
ness becomes m ore intense. Then the moon appears, going in and out
of the clouds. Its light m asks the true form of the obstacles on the
path. At each step, the two friends run into a stump or fall into a fu r
row. Soon they have to slow down. The night descends upon them as
if it w ere a cape covering their heads. Indistinct and threatening
7 7 VS, pp. 17-19. 78Ep, pp. 112-113.
' ^ ' s^■■ r V ■.'■ '■ " ' .■ ' ' ' . V '•: .' ■ . '
102 '
noises people the darkness. The invisible space which surrounds them
takes on fantastic dimensions. They feel as if they had been thrown in
to an immense emptiness. Yet, at the same time, they are glued to a
wall of darkness. The N arrator wants to talk, but his tongue is tied.
His legs are not steady enough for him to walk straight, yet he is afraid
79
to stop moving.
Stephane decides to warn his tutor that the woman whom the la t
ter intends to m a rry is loose morally. Stephane1 s naliVe belief in the
goodness of the world has been shattered. He feels a part of the con
tamination which surrounds him. He experiences an inexpressible dis
gust for himself and for others. His past seems to weigh down upon
him, preventing him from breathing.
As he walks home alone, the dark night has enveloped every
thing. The trees' trunks are not distinct from the hedges. The gaping,
infinite horizons appear to be hollowed out. The marvelous silence,
the peace and im passibility of the landscape, the distances which the
darkness conceals, terrify him. The natural objects seem perfidious.
Behind each motionless clump of branches, an unknown betrayer seems
80
to be lurking. Nature appears as treacherous as life.
Having discovered his cousin M arc in his m other's bedroom,
Stephane chases him through the night. The youth is intent upon killing
him. Arriving at the place where two rivers come together, Stephane
notes that the one is noisy while the other, almost silent, makes occa
sional dull splashes against the banks. In the moonlight, the two rivers
form a Y which gleams like steel blades. Near the banks, the w ater
79
SC -D ec, pp. 185-186.
on
Sim, pp. 118-119-
103
can hardly be distinguished from the ground. Stephane is moved by a
81
superstitious fear of these rivers. Their voice augurs ill.
Nature also arouses fear in Stephane because it hastens his sex
ual m aturity. The warm th of the air, the fragrance of the vegetation,
the loving caress of plants sated with sunlight produce a vague disquie-
82
tude within him, an uneasiness of the senses, a na'iVe immodesty.
When he bathes in the Vic-Sihge, the sight of his unclothed body dis
turbs him. He feels the caressing sensation of the water on his skin
and shivers. Experiencing a sudden and inexplicable shame, he d re s
ses hastily and runs home, imagining that he has fled a frightful danger.
He retains the superstitious fear of dormant w aters whose current is
83
recognized by bits of foam dissipated upon the bank.
Nature and Loneliness
Loneliness is associated with vast stretches of sem i-arid or
arid land; with the fog and the snow; with the sunset; and with the night.
The landscape may be the source of loneliness, or it may reinforce the
loneliness which a character already feels.
An immense sem i-arid or arid plain is associated with loneli
ness because of its relative bleakness and emptiness. It symbolizes
death and eternal separation from loved ones.
In the early spring, Bonne-Dame's loneliness crushes her with
sorrow. She is living in ChSteaudun, far from her beloved daughter.
The immense emptiness of the barren plain of the Beauce, which
stretches out from her window, prolongs the emptiness of her
8 1 Ibid. , pp. 233-234. 82Ibid. , p. 97, 83Ibid. , p. 98.
104'
heart.8^
Traveling to her new home in Saint-Julia, Th£rbse observes the
vast monotony of the plain. Nature seems ugly. Corn with tousled
hair and twisted, arm -like leaves is everywhere. Freshly pruned wil
lows raise their wounded heads to inspect, with thousands of eyes, the
85
dwarfed corn plants. Thdrhse's homesickness for P aris increases.
Beyond her house in Saint-Julia, hills and fields stretch out to
infinity. There is not a human being in sight. Not a sound can be
heard. Trees are everywhere. Their branches, blown by the wind,
appear to be outstretched arm s. Th£rfese contemplates the indescrib
able loneliness of remaining in that forgotten part of the world all her
life. 86
Three immense landscapes unroll successively before her eyes
as she takes a walk at sunset. They all leave her with the same im
pression: nature is vast, silent, and indifferent to human suffering.
Compared to the enormous fields, as vast as the sky under which they
87
sleep, a human life is but dust, dissipated by the wind.
Anselme Theodat, the protagonist of L'infirm e aux mains de lu-
mifere, describes to his friend his reactions to living in the isolated
Languedocian village of Saint-Christol. The only noise which he hears
is that of worms in the beams of his house or of the wind blowing
against the tiled rooftop. He has the sensation of being abandoned in
the hollow of a shadowy immensity. It seems as if he has been ship
wrecked in the middle of an ocean of land. He is obsessed by death
84BD, p. 82. 85Ep, pp. 6 - 8 .
87Ibid. , pp. 96-97.
86Ibid. , pp. 24-25.
105?
everywhere. He has the im pression that it is walking beneath his win
dows. He imagines that it is in a hurry to snatch him up for it too is
88
suffering from ennui.
The desolate landscape near Froidure, in the Haute-Marne,
89
arouses a mood of intense loneliness in Ida Cadifon. 7 She can see
nothing but barren fields upon which a low sky threatens to cave in be
cause of lack of props. Gusts of bitter wind assail her. A straight
road undulates with the soil toward a horizon which falls back with each
90
step that she takes.
The fog is associated with loneliness because it cuts off the
characters from their immediate surroundings. When Leonard loses
his religious faith, he experiences an emptiness and a loneliness which
defies description. God had been the unity which gave meaning to his
existence. This unity having disappeared, his life became a nothing
ness.
Walking through the streets of P aris at night, Leonard observes
the fog descending, blotting out the lights, the noises, and everything
else. The sky becomes a specter. The closer he approaches the
Seine, the thicker the veil becomes, making the walls seem light, giv
ing the im pression that presently the houses will rise like boats to
float upon the sea of fog. Suddenly, the ground disappears. The
houses vanish. Leonard is lost in an ocean of emptiness which pro-
91
longs that of his inner being.
The N arrator of L'infirm e aux mains de lumifere journeys on
88SC-1L, p. 239.
90MG, pp. 179-180.
89Supra, p. 12.
9 IEm p, pp. 240-241.
106’
foot across a plain bathed in fog. He m editates upon human solitude.
He imagines that the plain is peopled with men, each tilling the soil a r
duously, but unable to hear or see his neighbor. In the same way, the
N arrator finds that all human beings live and work in solitude. E very
one advances or suffers plunged in fog, isolated in a world of indiscern
ible forms lying under a problem atical sky. The N arrato r's friendship
with Anselme Th^odat, the protagonist of the novelette, is ch aracter
ized by the same solitude. The two men know only their own life of
pain, not the other's. Their words to each other are only a desperate
cry through the fog which separates them. They are never united in
. .. 92
spirit.
The snow, as well as the fog, isolates and reminds Leonard of
death and nothingness. He observes the falling snow from his window.
The sky descends and devours the plain of Nevers. There is no noise
anywhere. Hardly a house is visible. His inner solitude, his spiritual
93
bankruptcy, is prolonged and covers the universe.
Leonard finds the solitude of another winter day agonizing. The
countryside has no face. It is white all over, like a winding sheet cov
ering a corpse. He wants to escape, to cry out that he is suffering.
Everything seems unreal and dead. It seems as if his body is dissolv-
94
ing in air like rising smoke.
P ie rre Jauffrelin cannot communicate with his wife. There is
an invisible psychological or spiritual b a rrie r between them. When
P ierre gets up one winter morning, he perceives the countryside white,
92SC-IL, pp. 294-295.
94Ibid. , pp. 334-335.
92Emp, p. 326.
107!
the air striped with snow flakes, and Lake Geneva the color of soot.
He and his wife rem ain indoors. The solitude in which each lives
seem s to increase with the harshness of the wind, the cold, and the
95
snow. The elements put another b a rrie r around them.
The sunset is associated with loneliness because it represents
the death of the day and, by extension, any physical or spiritual death.
As Leonard's best friend, Jouques, lies dying,Leonard and Jouques1
sister, Madeleine, watch the sunset. The death agony of the sun turns
the clouds as red as blood. The flaming body which travels away from
them in the serenity of space seem s to take away with it their youth,
their pride, and their honor. Jouques and his sister are penniless.
Leonard's life in P aris has been a failure. The night may drown P aris
in its uncertain waves; its shadow could never equal that which envelops
their souls.9 ^
Therhse, alone and spiritually lost in a hostile world, contem
plates the penumbra of a sum m er evening. As it fills h er living room,
97
it alm ost gives the im pression of a death agony.
Whether one is in a prison or in an attic, whether there are
windows or not, a dying day is a poignant spectacle. An uncertain an
guish floats in the air. It seem s that specters arise at the call of the
evening shadow, evoking the m em ory of what has been and will never
be again. 98
The night is associated with loneliness because it symbolizes
death, emptiness, lifelessness, and m ystery. Bonne-Dame, heartsick
95Sol, p. 239.
98CV, p. 21.
96Emp, p. 293. 97Ep, p. 104.
108’
because of her daughter's lack of affection, determ ines never to see
her again. The departing train rolls on in the m ysterious night. As
Bonne-Dame gazes out the window, she notes the stars whose m arch
across the sky is repeated nightly for all eternity. They shed their in-
99
different light on the sleeping im m ensity. "
Malville, a religious philosopher who figures in L.'em preinte,
recounts the story of his life to Ldonard. As a youth, he was w arned
by a preacher to guard his soul from the snares of the devil. The ad
monition was given one dark night. The tall p reach e r's thin arm s
waved wildly as if to whip out against an invisible crowd. Then he d is
appeared. M ystery filled the solitude. M alville's veins froze with
fear. To safeguard his soul, he determ ined to enter the m inistry.
After years of study, Malville became convinced that God did
not exist. This conclusion was reached one night. Getting up from his
bed, he rushed outside. He ran wildly under the sky whose infinite
m ystery oppressed him. He called out desperately for help. It seem ed
as if his life w ere over.^^
The Mood of Nature in Opposition to that
of the C haracters
The joy and the peace of a vernal or estival landscape m ay con
tra s t sharply with the inner anguish of the ch aracters. They feel di
vorced from their surroundings. Their solitude is accentuated.
Stephane suffers intensely because he has heard the accusation
that his m other is carrying on an im m oral relationship with her
" B P , pp. 159-160.
1 0 1Ibid. , p. 267.
100E m p , pp. 258-259.
m a rried cousin. As he advances in the rain, a nausea overcomes him.
The accusation is implanted even within him self1 . As the storm ends,
the delicious odor of wet plants arises. The tints of the landscape grow
darker. As the earth smiles in its triumphant coquetry, Stephane is
102
overcome with despair.
Stacks of grain lying in a field blaze under the shower of sun
rays which fall in the middle of the day. Stephane still suffers the an-
103
guish of doubting his m other's innocence.
Having caught Marc F erram us, his m other's cousin, in her
bedroom, he trails him through the night. He falls into a hole and
faints. Awaking at dawn, he does not understand how he can suffer so
intensely when gaiety surrounds him: the serene gaiety of plants, the
gaiety of sunlit space, and the gaiety of the sky which rises endlessly
104
in the dazzling light.
Returning home that same day, he notes that the farmhouse is
awakening under the luminous caresses of the sun. It has never looked
so young. He hears the joyous tumult of barnyard creatures. He ob
serves the threshing activities. A cartload of corn straw is being c a r
ried back from the threshing floor. Summer is poured out everywhere;
the harvests are ripe, and the earth, swollen by the sun, bestows its
wealth without stint. He senses the cruel irony of nature, for he has
never been m ore unhappy.
The songs of birds, the poetry of plants, the sun, and the joyous
shivering of the earth no longer brighten Stephane's spirits. He
102Sim, pp. 150-151. 1Q3Ibid. , p. 170. 104Ibid. , p. 237.
carries to his death the abominable picture of a m other who wanted to
kill him in order to keep her lover.
From her home in Ch&teaudun, Bonne-Dame observes the radi
ance of the early spring. The sun stretches out in dazzling sheets upon
the plain of the Beauce. The earth has reddish reflections as if a veil
of purple has been placed upon it. In her garden, two or three thin
trees carry, at the end of their branches, little balls which resem ble
the bells worn by carnival figures. They are formed by swollen buds.
Light and delicate perfumes are everywhere, yet Bonne-Dame is sad.
107
Her beloved daughter, Germaine, is far from her.
Bonne-Dame visits Germaine and her husband in Montauban.
The three take a Sunday ride along the Aveyron river. In the conversa
tion that ensues, Bonne-Dame realizes that she has been supplanted in
her daughter's affections by G erm aine's m other-in-law . It seem s in
credible to her that she could be plunged in the peace of blooming
108
spring and yet suffer so intensely.
The N arrator of "Les Jauffrelin, " m orose and uneasy because
his friend, P ierre, has not returned from a bicycle trip to a nearby
town, observes that a total disharmony exists between his mood and
that of the landscape which surrounds him. Serenity perm eates the air.
Only rarely do flights of insects move in the stillness. Behind his
chair, a basket of peonies exudes a heady yet delicate musk odor.
Further on, seringas discharge their g rosser perfumes. The w arm
109
and voluptuous earth drinks in the sunlight.
106Ibid. , p. 278. 1Q7BD, pp. 81-82. 108Ibid. , p. 148.
1Q9Sol, p. 174.
Ill'
After P ierre Jauffrelin drowns in Lake Geneva, the N arrator
sits down by the edge of the water. He remains there meditating for a
long time. He contemplates the sheet of water which is now calm.
Nevertheless, during a storm, it killed P ierre. Its beauty frightens
the N arrator. He cannot forget the m urder.
Ida Cadifon, the protagonist of Madame Clapain, feels attracted
toward Dancy, the young police inspector who is investigating the sui
cide of her form er boarder, Madame Clapain. Eventually, however, it
becomes clear that he is incapable of understanding, as Ida does, the
beauty of Madame Clapain's tragic sacrifice. Ida realizes that a sp ir
itual gap exists between them that precludes the possibility of a love af
fair. The moment that she reaches this conclusion, she and Dancy are
together, gazing upon the landscape. The fir groves drop abruptly, the
deep valley has fainted under the blazing sun. A voluptuousness arises
from the soil with the fragrance of plants. Yet never was Ida more
conscious of so litu d e.^
The peace of the night stands out in opposition to the inner to r
ment of the characters. Stephane trails his m other's lover through the
night. He has made up his mind to kill him. His anger spreads to the
trees that hide the lover, to the opaque night, and to the countryside
which is asleep under the starlight. The landscape seems to insult
112
Stephane by its silence.
Julien tells Thdrbse Bonnal, a young girl whom he has m et in
Belgium, that he is too poor to m arry her. She states her willingness
to endure any privation to be with him, but he does not change his
H Olbid. , p. 190. U 1MC, p. 253. l^ S d m , p. 232.
112’
mind. The two realize that no spiritual union exists between them.
Each is living in the solitude of his own desires. The august calm of
the night surrounds them. They listen passionately to the adorable si
lence of the sleeping woods, in which human suffering finds no echo.
113
But they can not still the anguish within their hearts.
M. Champel and Mm e Champel, the principal characters of "M.
Champel, " live in solitude, each hating the other. M. Champel be
lieves, but can never ascertain, that his wife has thrown his illegiti
mate daughter onto the street. One night, as the Champels take a walk
in their garden, M. Champel reflects on his loneliness and anguish.
The night around him is serene, so beautiful that it seems insolent.
The sky is sown with stars. Faint sounds can be heard. This peace is
as mild as a caress, as unreal as paradise.114
115
Jean Pesnel is not sure that his wife loves him. The con
trast between the serene night which surrounds him and his inner to r
ment produces physical suffering.11^
Conclusion
We have discussed the relationship of various types of natural
phenomena to the emotional development of the characters. We find
that nature evokes a variety of moods. Forty-two landscapes are a s
sociated with joy. Twenty-two are associated with peace. Thirteen
are associated with loneliness. The mood of thirteen landscapes is in
opposition to that of the characters. Eleven landscapes are
113Fer, pp. 237-238.
11 ^Supra, p. 19-
114Sol, p. 100.
116Lab, p. 191.
113'
associated with fear. Eight are associated with depression. Six are
associated with anxiety.
We have noted that in some cases contact with the landscape ac
tually produced the emotion, while in other cases it only intensified the
emotion which was already present within the character. Nature is
m ore often an actual source rather than an intensifier of emotions in
three works of the naturalistic-period, Un simple, Bonne-Dame, and
117
L'£pave, and in one work of the spiritualistic period, La vie secrhte.
In these four works, the landscapes are m ore numerous and richer in
118
sensual detail than in the other novels. Nature is m ore intimately
associated with the inner being and exerts a m ore powerful effect upon
the psychological development of the characters.
117
La vie secrhte has been classified as the first work of the
spiritualistic period. Nevertheless, it has characteristics of the nat
uralistic works. It may be considered a novel of transition, leading
from the one period to the other. Its landscapes have a richness of
sensual detail and a concreteness not found in the other spiritualistic
works.
118
See the statistics given on pages 114-115.
CHAPTER Y
CONCLUSION
The Role of Nature and the Evolution of Nature
in the Novela, Novelettes, and Short Stories
]
At the beginning of our consideration of nature in the literary
works of Edouard Estaunie, we discussed briefly the place and role of
nature.'*' We shall now reconsider this question, taking into account all
that has been discussed in the intervening pages. We also wish to de
termine in what way nature evolves and develops as Estaunid p ro gres
ses in his novelistic art.
We have stated that the place which nature occupies in the nov
els, novelettes, and short stories is circum scribed and episodic. The
description of each natural scene is confined to a limited number of
paragraphs and is separated from other landscapes by intervening m a
terial that is unrelated. The greatest number of landscapes are found
in four of the novels: Un simple, Bonne-Dame, L1 epave, and La vie
secrhte. Of the 334 landscapes which are found in Estauni£'s literary
works, 181, or over half, are included in these four novels.
The role of nature in the literary works is fivefold. It is a sen
sual and an emotional experience for the characters. It is a force
which acts contrary to the romanesque. It is a background against
^ Supra, pp. 22-28.
114
115'
which the characters move arid the events of the story take place. It is
also a symbol.
We have discussed nature as a sensual experience, noting that
the landscapes are perceived with the visual, auditory, olfactory, and
tactile senses, but that the visual sense is the one which is the most
2
highly developed. Of the 326 sensual im pressions cited, 186, or m ore
than half, are found in Un sim ple, Bonne-Dame, L1 epave, and La vie
secrhte.
3
We have studied nature as an emotional experience. A variety
of emotions were associated with the landscapes analyzed: joy, peace,
depression, anxiety, fear, and loneliness. Of the ninety-five emotional
reactions cited, fifty-six, or m ore than half, were found in Un sim ple,
B onne - Dam e, L1 epave, and La vie secrhte.
Estaunie1 s romanesque consists of the efforts that the charac
ters make to escape from the psychological and spiritual solitude in
4
which they find themselves. Nature often increases their loneliness
and thus functions counter to the romanesque. The aridity and vastness
of nature, which symbolize death, brings to mind the indifference of
5
the natural world to human suffering. Natural phenomena, such as
fog and snow, which isolate the characters from their immediate su r
roundings, evoke or intensify loneliness.^* The day's end and the night
symbolize physical and spiritual death and eternal separation from
7
loved ones. The m ystery of the night fills the spirit with an
^Supra, pp. 52-73. ^Supra, pp. 81-113. ^Supra, p. 26.
^Supra, pp. 103-105. ^Supra, pp. 105-107.
^Supra, pp. 107-108.
116'
g
unfathomable feeling of solitude. The joy and peace of spring and
summer may contrast violently with the inner anguish of the characters,
9
thus accentuating their loneliness. The peace of the night may also
contrast with inner suffering and loneliness, rendering it m ore acute?’ * " *
Of the thirty-one examples of loneliness discussed in Chapter IV, ^
twenty-one are found in the naturalistic works and ten in the spiritual
istic works. The naturalistic novels thus contain twice as many exam
ples as the spiritualistic novels. From the outset of his literary ca
reer, Estaunie associated solitude with nature. In Un sim ple, his
first novel, there are as many as six examples of nature as a source
12
or as an intensifier of loneliness.
Nature is a background against which the characters develop
and the action of each work unfolds. The natural settings constitute an
element of objectivity and concreteness which offsets the psychological
and spiritual dram as. The landscapes are alm ost exclusively French.
Scenes of Languedoc are the m ost common; they form a backdrop for
the characters and the action of Un sim ple, Bonne-Dame, L1 £pave, La
13
vie secrhte, Le silence dans la campagne, and L'infirm e aux mains
de lumihre. Scenes of Burgundy are found in "Mademoiselle Gauche, "
"M. Champel," and L'appel de la route. Landscapes of P aris figure
in Bonne-Dame, L1 em preinte, Le ferment, and L1 ascension de M.
^Supra, p. 108. ^Supra, pp. 108-111.
^ Supra, pp. 111-112. * ^Supra, pp. 103-112.
*^Supra, pp. 108-110, 111.
IQ
The short story, published in 1913, and not the collection of
short works published in 1926.
117
B aslhvre. Other regions of France are described in only one work
each: Chclteaudun, in the E ure-et-L oir, in Bonne-Dame; Nevers, in
the Nihvre, in L1 empreinte; Dauphin^ in Le cas de Jean BunampB or-
deaux in L'infirm e aux mains de lumihre; the Haute-Loire in Le laby-
rinthe; and the Haute-M arne in Madame Clapain. Two short works,
Pages roumaines and L'invisible, contain landscapes of Roumania,
P art of Le ferm ent transpires in Belgium. The setting of "Les Jauf
frelin" is laid in Switzerland, along the banks of Lake Geneva. Since
Estauni^ was m ore interested in environmental factors in his earlier
period, a greater number of landscapes and a greater amount of de
scriptive detail are found in the naturalistic works.
Nature is also a symbol. We noted that in Un sim ple, the rain
storm which assails Stephane in the streets of Toulouse is a symbol of
14
life, the harsh, unfriendly life which he has known. In the chapter on
emotive nature, we discussed the landscapes not only as a source of
emotions, but also as a symbol of emotions already felt by the charac
ters. We found that certain landscapes symbolized and intensified the
15
joy within the hearts of the characters. Other landscapes were sym
bols of p eac e,^ depression,^ anxiety,'*'® and loneliness.^
Different aspects of nature symbolized each emotion. The sun
light, the gaiety and voluptuousness of estival nature, and the calmness
20
of the immense countryside at eventide symbolized joy. The sunset
^Supra, p . 27. ^ ® Supra, pp. 89-91.
*% upra, p. 95. ^ Supra, pp. 96-98.
18Supra, pp. 99-100. 1^Supra, pp. 103-108.
^ Supra, pp. 89-91.
118
and the calm of evening, as well as the melancholy rustling of autumn
21
leaves, were symbols of inner peace and harmony. The somberness
and the emptiness associated with the fog and with the fall of night were
22
symbols of depression. The weather which precedes a storm sym-
23
bolized inner anxiety. Loneliness had various symbols. An immense
sem i-arid plain was a symbol of loneliness because of its relative
bleakness and em ptiness The fog was a symbol of loneliness be-
25
cause it isolated the characters from their surroundings. The snow
symbolized loneliness because it isolated and brought to mind death and
nothingness.^ The sunset was a symbol of loneliness because it rep'-
resented the death of the day and, by extension, any physical or spir-
27
itual death. The night was a symbol of loneliness because it repre-
2 8
sented death, emptiness, lifelessness, and mystery. Of the thirty-
seven examples of nature as a symbol, twenty-seven, or approximately
four-fifths, are found in the naturalistic novels, while only ten are
found in the spiritualistic novels.
Summarizing the statistical data given in the preceding pages,
we note that over half the landscapes of the literary works are included
in Un simple, Bonne-Dame, L1 epave, and La vie secrhte. With the ex
ception of the last named, these works belong to the naturalistic period.
La vie secrbte, although classified as the first novel of the spiritual
istic period, still contains characteristics of the naturalistic works.
^ Supra, p. 95. ^ Supra, pp. 96-98.
^ Supra, pp. 99t100. 24Supra, pp. 103-105.
^ Supra, pp. 105-106. ^ Supra, pp. 106-107.
27 ? 8
Supra, p. 107. Supra, pp. 107-108.
119
Nature is described with a richness of sensual detail and a concrete
ness not found in the other spiritualistic novels. Therefore, in dis
cussing the evolution of the role of nature in the literary works, we
may consider it a naturalistic novel. More than half of the sensual
im pressions cited in the dissertation are found in Un simple, Bonne-
Dame, L1 epave, and La vie secrhte. Over half the emotional reac
tions noted are included in the same four works. The naturalistic nov
els as a whole, that is, Un simple, Bonne-Dame, L1 em preinte, Le
ferm ent, and L1 £pave, contain twice as many examples as the spiritu
alistic novels of nature as a source or as an intensifier of loneliness
and solitude. Four-fifths of the examples of nature as a symbol are
found in the naturalistic works.
W e conclude from this statistical data that the natural world
was not as important to Estaunid during his spiritualistic period as
during his naturalistic period. The landscapes of the latter period are
less numerous, less rich in sensual detail, and less stimulating to the
emotions. Nature is less important as a force acting counter to the
romanesque, and its symbolic value is greatly reduced.
The landscapes of the spiritualistic period, however, do have
certain characteristics which distinguish them. In the first place,
29 30 31 32
light, and auditory, olfactory, and tactile im pressions become
the dominating sensual elements. In the second place, animation is
29CV, pp. 278-279; Sol, pp. 155-156; Bas, p. 25.
30
Sol, p. 147; AR, p. 38; ibid. , p. 198.
2^Sol, p. 147; Lab, pp. 29-30; ibid. , p. 153.
3 7
Sol, p. 176; B a s, p. 134; Lab, p. 83.
120
•3 7
extensively employed. In the third place, many landscapes have a
harshness and a sinister quality not found in the landscapes of the nat
uralistic period. ^
A description of Lake Geneva contains delicate im pressions of
sound and light. There is also an instance of animation.
Spectacle inoubliable. Devant nous, l'eau bleue; sur nos tbtes,
un ciel de lait; sur la rive, un bruit de caresse et la lbvre mou-
vante d'un ocean calme baisant le gravier. Le Ju ra coiffb de
brumes n1 btait pas visible. Des mouettes volaient ici et lb. A
chaque battement d'ailes dans l'a ir dore repondait une lueur sur la
vague prochaine. Aprbs quoi, 1'oiseau parti, le flot reprenait son
apparence de m ort et le fiord sa lumibre uniforme. ^
A sunset landscape of the Haute-Loire contains im pressions of
light, sound, odor, and an instance of animation.
L 'air saturb de senteurs balsamiques enveloppait notre m arche
d'une caresse lbgbre. Tour h tour, nous avons bcoute le clapotis de
la Borne et le ruissellem ent du torrent de Vourzac. Les pins to r
tures, btirant leurs bras verts, semblaient des gnomes accourus au
pied du pare pour y monter une garde rieuse. Enfin, derribre les
arbres qui ont cesse de l'btouffer parce que les feuilles sont tom-
bbes. la face de Cambaleyres s'est montrbe, ambrbe par le so-
leil. 7
A landscape in the Haute-Marne is harsh and sinister. Tactile
sensations are included.
Autour d'elle, cependant, quel btrange paysage1 . Plus de v e r
dure, aucune habitation visible, mais, de tous cStbs, des champs
avares sur qui un ciel bas menaqait de crouler, faute d'etais. P ar
h-coups des rafales de vent aigre, et toujours devant soi une chaus-
see droite, ondulant au grb du sol vers un horizon que chaque pas
faisait reculer.
For what reason is nature less important in Estaunib's
^ AR, p. 130; Lab, p. 83; ibid. , p. 231.
34Sol, pp. 176-177; AR, p. 236; MC, p. 188.
35Sol, p. 169. 3^A mansion. 37Lab, p. 231.
38MC, pp. 179-180.
121
spiritualistic period? Why are the landscapes less numerous, less
rich in sensual detail, and less stimulating to the emotions? Why is
nature less important as a force acting counter to the romanesque, and
why is its symbolic value greatly reduced?
In the first place, the orientation of Estaunid's thought changed.
He became less concerned with the heredity and the environment of his
characters. Their inner life, their place in the spiritual universe,
preoccupied him. His descriptive art was used prim arily to evoke in
teriors, the rooms in which his characters lived. These rooms were
not only a concrete background against which the spiritual dramas took
place. The objects which filled the rooms became vessels that ab
sorbed the souls of the characters and were impregnated with their
personalities. The emotional and spiritual life of individuals was p re
served in these objects even after their death. In this way, the souls
39
of the dead continued to communicate with the living. The spiritual
drama which formed the basis of each novel was extended and intensi
fied by the evoation of these interiors.
The natural world was less important to Estaunid in his sp irit
ualistic period because he could not conceive of it in the same intimate
term s as the world of objects used by the characters. Nature was not
spiritually receptive to the characters. We noted that although joy was
more often associated with nature than any other emotion, loneliness,
along with peace, was second in im p o rtan ce.^ From the first-novel
onward, nature was observed as a source or as an intensifier of
^ Supra, pp. 12-13. ^ Supra, pp. 112-113.
122>
loneliness.^1 - A number of instances w ere analyzed in which the mood
of nature was opposed to that of the characters, thus increasing their
feeling of lonelinessNature was also a source or an intensifier of
fear, depression, and anxiety. The joy and peace which it afforded
were not ab id in g .^ Nature was not an element which enabled the char
acters to communicate with one another adequately and to achieve the
44
spiritual oneness toward which they w ere constantly striving. The
objects which surrounded them in their homes w ere m ore significant
as they struggled to escape from spiritual solitude.
Nature does not play as im portant a role in the literary works
45
as solitude and destiny. It is significant, however, because it is both
a subjective and an objective force. As a subjective force, it provides
sensual and emotional experiences which develop the characters psy
chologically. As an objective force, it provides a backdrop of con
creteness against which the plot unfolds and the characters develop.
The Role of Nature in Estaunid1 s Works
Compared to the Role of Nature
in the Novels of Two of his Contem poraries
Paul Bourget and Anatole France
The two contem poraries of Estaunie whose novels may be m ost
readily compared with his are Paul Bourget (1852-1935) and Anatole
France (1844-1924). Bourget resem bles Estaunie in his psychological
probings into the m oral and religious life of his characters. Anatole
France, although m ore concerned with ideology and erudition than
41 Supra, pp. 115-116. 42gUp r a > pp_ 108-112.
4 5 4 4
Supra, pp. 81-96. Supra, pp. 11-18.
^ Supra, pp. 13-19-
1 2 3 :
Estaunid, is sim ilar to the latter in his orderly, logical thought and in
his awareness of sensual beauty. For the purpose of analysis, let us
46
take three novels of Bourget and three of France: Cruelle enigme,
47 ✓ 48 49
Le disciple, and Le demon de Midi of Bourget; and Tha'i's, L1 orme
du m ail,^ and Le mannequin d 'o sier*^ of France.
Nature has a circum scribed place in the novels of Bourget. It
is limited to paragraphs in tercalatedthere and there in the narration.
It has no independent life of its own, diffused throughout an entire work.
The landscapes are realistically conceived and executed. Bourget is
particularly interested in the geological and botanical aspects of Au
vergne. He gives attention to detail and to composition. He is sensi
tive to line, form, relief, color, light, sound, odor, and tactile sensa
tions .
Bourget paints in detail the rough mountainous landscapes of
Auvergne. He is interested in their geological history and their topo
graphical aspect. One landscape contains lines which call to mind
52
those discovered by the telescope on the moon. Another landscape is
described at dawn. The light, color, and atmospheric condition are
noted. The truncated cones of extinct volcanoes stand out against the
sky. Their violet m asses contrast with the gold and rose of the dawn.
Nous partions d'un pied leste et, h cinq heurs, nous £tions h Thedde
ou h la Baraque, juste h temps pour voir se lever le soleil. Tu
^ F i r s t published in 1885. ^ F i r s t published in 1889.
48 49
F irs t published in 1914. F irs t published in 1890.
^ F i r s t published in 1897. ^ F i r s t published in 1897.
CO
Paul Bourget, Le disciple (Edition definitive; P aris: Plon-
Nourrit, [n. d. ]), p. 77.
124 '
n'imagines pas la beaut6 du paysage dans cette clart£ d'aurore: d'un
c5t£, l'im m ense Limagne bleuktre et voil^e de vapeurs. Tu sais
que cette plaine 6tait, k l 1 £poque tertiaire, l'ex trim it^ d'un fjord
qui, par Langogne et Barjoc, et sur 1'emplacement actuel des C 6 -
vennes, descendait vers le bas sin du RhSne et la M £diterran£e. De
1' autre c8t£, les cdnes tronqu^s des volcans d^tachaient leurs
m asses violettes sur le rose et l'o r du ciel.^3
The vastness of this landscape causes the N arrator of the novel to muse
upon eternal life. He contemplates the grandeur of God in a universe
54
of constant change.
The details of another landscape of Auvergne are presented in
orderly detail. Cultivated valleys take the form of a chessboard.
Mowed prairies of ocher and light colored vineyards alternate with
plowed stretches of tawny soil. Here and there rise clumps of red-
55
dened oaks and golden birches.
A spring landscape in the Auvergne is described with a wealth
of orderly detail. Color, relief, and sound are utilized, but color is
the m ost striking and frequently used element. The main features are
painted before the details. It is early spring. A radiant azure sky
stretches overhead. Under the folds of a thin sheet of ice covering a
lake, the supple shiver of water is perceived. Black spots of lava be
sm irch the vast Cheyre river, white with snow. The cirque formed by
five mountains is spotlessly white. The black m asses of fir trees
stand out against the snow. The details of the landscape include a
clump of birch upon whose bare branches, tinted with pink, are shining
frost crystals; a tuft of broom, still green, sticking straight up in the
53
Paul Bourget, Le d&mon de Midi (Paris: Plon-N ourrit, 1914),
p. 57.
54lbid. , p. 58. 55Ibid. , pp. 89-90.
125
air; the footprints of a fox on the immaculate carpet of the snow; the
fluttering of a magpie whose sharp cries make the silence alm ost p e r
ceptible; and a sheep, yellow and brown, driven by a shepherd dressed
56
in blue and his dog, reddish-brown with yellow eyes.
Another orderly, highly detailed landscape describes the sam e
scene a few weeks later. Visual, auditory, olfactory, and tactile im
pressions are utilized, but again color predominates. The m ain fea
tures are presented before the details. After the harshness of winter,
there is a sudden mildness in the air. The charm of living floats in the
atmosphere. Water shivers under the thin ice, breaks through, and
runs along singing. In the abandoned woods, there is an infinite m u r
muring as blocks of snow detach themselves one by one and fall upon
the evergreen branches of pines and the yellow foliage of oaks. The
lake, free of its ice, begins to freeze under the wind, which sweeps
away the clouds and reveals an intensely clear, light blue sky. In a
few days, the uniform color of the landscape is nuanced with delicate
new tints. The greenish flowers of the hazelnut trees alternate with
the yellowish flowers of the willows. The black lava of the Cheyre riv
er shines in the sunlight. The velvet fructifications of m oss mix with
the whitening spots of the lichen. Two craters reveal, little by little,
the w arm splendor of their red_sand. The silver shafts of birch and
the glistening shafts of beech shine in the sun with an intense glow.
Dans les halliers commenchrent d'£clore les belles fleurs que je
[c’est le N arrateur qui parle] cueillais autrefois avec mon pbre et
dont les corolles m e regardaient comme des prunelles, dont l'arom e
me suivait comme une haleine. Les pervenches, les prim evhres et
les violettes apparurent les premiferes, puis je retrouvai
56
°Bourget, D iscip le, pp. 146-147.
126
successivem ent la cardamine des prds avec sa nuance lilas, le bois-
gentil qui porte ses fleurs roses avant de porter ses feuilles, la
blanche anemone, le m uscari h l'o d e u r de prune, la scille h deux
feuilles et sa senteur de jacinthe, le sceau de Salomon avec ses clo-
chettes blanches et le m ysthre de sa racine qui m arche sous la
terre, le muguet dans les creux des petites valldes, et I1 Eglantine le
long des haies.
The breeze which comes from the tops of the snow-covered mountains
passes over the flowers. It contains fragrances from the sun and the
snow. It is so caressing and fresh that the N arrator becomes intoxi
cated with a youthful spirit and participates in the joy of the w orld's pu
berty. The ice of abstract ideas, in which his soul has been im p ris
oned, m elts. He finds that nature is an emotional as well as a sensual
57
experience.
Nature is also a sensual and an emotional experience for Sa-
vignan, one of the characters of Le ddmon de Midi. The landscapes
which he views as he travels through Auvergne in an automobile remind
him of his youth. He has often walked along a certain path. He knows
the unequal distribution of the transparent fog. He is fam iliar with the.
silvery whiteness of the sky whose light background makes the delicate,
dark line of the mountains stand out in relief. The air which he
breathes is the same as that which used to fill his lungs. He rem em
bers that he sought vigorous outdoor exercise to efface the painful
mem ory of a girl whom he loved and lost. He experiences again the
5 8
emotions of the past.
Nature is also a concrete background against which the psycho
logical dramas take place. A young m an meditates in a train while
gazing upon a background of plains undulated with hills, intersected by
^^Ibid. , pp. 182-184. ^ B o u r g e t, D&mon, p. 91*
127
rivers, and bristling with bare t r e e s .T w o lovers embrace while
seated upon a tombstone in a deserted pathway of one of the cem eteries
of P aris. It is a warm, clear morning. The graveyard, with its ever
green trees, stretches around th e m .^
As we have seen, nature has a circum scribed place in the nov
els of Bourget. The landscapes are well organized and composed, and
many contain a great amount of detail, especially of the geological and
topographical structure of the earth and of the characteristics of trees
and flowers. Bourget is a skillful artist in the use of line, form, r e
lief, color, light, and in the description of auditory, olfactory, and
tactile sensations. Nature is an emotional as well as a sensual experi
ence for his characters. It constitutes a concrete background against
which the psychological dramas unfold. At times, it inspires religious
thought and meditation.
Nature in the novels of Anatole France is also circum scribed
and episodic. The landscapes, usually a paragraph in length, are in
terspersed throughout each work. They are briefer, less detailed, and
less precise than those of Bourget. They serve to evoke the historical
past, particularly the Gallo-Roman civilization. They render the char
acters who observe them, particularly M. Bergeret, gentle and pen
sive. They inspire imaginative intellectual meditation.
Tha'i's contains a luxuriant landscape of ancient Egypt. Exotic
birds and delicate colors are painted. Odor, sound and form are
^ P a u l Bourget, Cruelle dnigme: Profils perdus (Edition defini
tive; Paris: Plon-Nourrit] [n. d. ]), p. 45.
60Ibid. , p. 66.
128
6 > 1
utilized. As in the novels of Estaunid, the natural phenomena partake
of the joy of nature’s warmth, brightness, and fecundity. The details
are integrated around the river Nile, which forms the center of the
verbal picture.
Au matin, il vit des ibis immobiles sur une patte, au bord de
l'eau qui refldtait leur cou p§le et rose. Les saules dtendaient au
loin sur la berge leur doux feuillage gris; des grues volaient en t r i
angle dans le ciel claire et l'on entendait parmi les roseaux le cri
des hdrons invisibles. Le fleuve roulait h perte de vue ses larges
eaux vertes oh des voiles glissaient comme des ailes d'oiseaux, oh,
gh et lh, au bord, se m irait une maison blanche, et sur lesquelles
flottaient au loin des vapeurs ldghres, tandis que des lies, lourdes
de palmes, de fleurs et de fruits, laissaient s'dchapper de leurs
ombres des nudes bruyantes de canards, d'oies, de flamants et de
sarcelles. A gauche, la grasse vallee dtendait jusqu'au desert ses
champs et ses vergers qui frissonnaient dans la joie, le soleil dorait
Sunlight is used m ore than the other sensual elements. At noon,
the intense radiance of the sun beating down upon the earth produces
immobility and silence.
Le soleil de midi dardait ses flammes subtiles et blanches. Pas
un nuage dans le ciel, pas un souffle dans l'air. Sur le vaste repos
des choses, seule, la lumifere menait au del sa ronde ardente. Dans
le Mail desert, 1'ombre s'abattait inerte et lourde au pied des ormes.
Un cantonnier dormait au fond du fossd qui borde les rem parts. Les
oiseaux se taisaient.
The effect of light passing through trees is noted.
M. Bergeret s'a ssit prhs de lui h 1'endroit oh 1'ombre tombait melde
de lumifere du bout eclairci des rameaux, en sorte que son vdtement
noir se couvrit de disques d'or, et que sur ses prunelles dblouies ses
^^Supra, pp. 81-83.
62
Anatole France, Oeuvres completes illustrdes d1 Anatole
France, Vol. V: Thali's; L'dtui de nacre (Paris: Calmann-Levy, T925),
p. 28.
6 3
Ibid. , Vol. XI: L'orm e du mail: Le mannequin d1 osier (Paris:
Calmann-Ldvy, 1927), p. 143.
129
paupiferes commencferent de cligner.8^
The form of a river is compared to that of a beautiful woman:
"Et la rivihre au loin, riche des pluies printaniferes, coulait, blanche
et nue, frSlant de ses hanches pleines les lignes des gr§les peupliers
L c
qui bordaient son lit. " The form of flowering orchard trees is com-
66 67
pared to round human heads. The cheeping of sparrows is noted.
Z Q
The odor of flowering lilac is mentioned. The coolness of an after-
69
noon breeze passing through the leaves of elms is observed.
The soil of France, although described in the spring, the sea
son of rebirth and freshness, nevertheless reminds one of the past, of
the ancient peoples which existed upon it and of the civilizations which
they left, now only ruins. The Gallo-Roman civilization, with its ap
preciation of sensual beauty, is especially admired by Anatole France.
A river rich with spring rains recalls to the mind of M. B ergeret the
ancient Gallic boatmen who worshipped it as a goddess, and paid it
homage by throwing copper coins into its depths and raising a votive
stele in its honor in front of the temple of Venus and Augustus. M.
Bergeret has absorbed the pagan outlook because of his intense study
of classical literature; he also sees the river as a goddess, "volup-
70
tueuse, invincible, feconde, eternelle. "
Although conscious of the age of the earth and of the many civil
izations which have flourished upon it, M. B ergeret participates emo
tionally in the rebirth of nature. As he walks aim lessly under the
64Ibid., p. 144. 65Ibid. , p. 367. 66Ibid.
67Ibid. , p. 109. 68Ibid. 69Ibid., p. 153.
70Ibid. , pp. 367-368.
130
elms, he daydreams. Conflicting emotions pulsate through his being.
Partout, dans la valine bien ouverte, la jeunesse timide et char-
mante de l'ann£e frissonnait sur la terre antique. Et M. Bergeret
cheminait seul, d'un pas in£gal et lent sous les ormes du Mail. Il~
allait, l'Sme vague, diverse, Sparse, vieille comme la terre, jeune
comme les fleurs des pommiers, vide de pensde et pleine d'images
confuses, d£sol£e et d^sirante, douce, innocente, lascive, triste,
traSnant sa fatigue et poursuivant des Illusions et des Esp^rances,
dont il ignorait le nom, la forme, le visage.
In the sensual warmth of the intense noonday sun, M. B ergeret's mind
turns from the pettiness of his daily life to intellectual musing, focus-
72
ing his critical attention upon the living and the dead. Thus we note
that nature in the novels of Anatole France is a sensual, emotional, and
intellectual experience.
In conclusion, let us state that nature in his works has a c ir
cumscribed place. The landscapes that we have studied are of France
or of the exotic Egypt of the past. They are less numerous and less de
tailed than those of Bourget, although they do contain visual, auditory,
olfactory, and tactile impressions. They evoke the historical past for
the erudite M. Bergeret. The voluptuousness of a spring or summer
day reminds him of the Gallo-Romans, whose love of sensual beauty,
coupled with anthropomorphic polytheism, led them to deify rivers as
goddesses. The warmth, brightness, and sensuality associated with
the fertile time of the year cause M. Bergeret to muse upon intellectual
problems and to experience diverse emotions by daydreaming. Nature
is a sensual, emotional, and intellectual experience in the novels of
Anatole France. It also provides a concrete background for the intel
lectual argumentation.
7 1 Ibid. , p. 368. 72Ibid. , p. 143.
131
Nature in the works of Estauni£ has a m ore extensive place and
plays a m ore varied role than in the works of either Bourget or Anatole
France. Although it is circum scribed and episodic in the novels of all
three w riters, it is much more fully presented in those of Estauni£.
His works contain a greater variety of landscapes. The four seasons
are painted, as well as conditions during all hours of the day and night.
Various atmospheric phenomena are described. Visual impressions
are more numerous and varied than in the works of his two contempo
raries. The emotional experience which nature provides, far richer
and m ore variegated than in Bourget and France, is intimately associ
ated with the complex psychological development of the characters.
Nature acts as a force contrary to the romanesque. It constitutes a
concrete background against which the psychological and spiritual dra
mas unfold. It is also a symbol.
Estaunie made an original contribution to the presentation of na
ture in the French novel. As we have seen, his landscapes are m ore
numerous and more varied than those of the two contemporaries with
whom he may be most readily compared. His landscapes play a more
complex and significant role in the development of his novelistic art.
Their importance has long been neglected in the appraisal of his works.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
BIBLIOGRAPHY
P rim ary M aterial
(arranged chronologically)
Literary Works
Symphonie en ut mineur trouvee dans un carnet [short lyric piece].
Plaquette published under the auspices of La Nouvelle Gaule, an
ephemeral literary group, 1884.
Semaine Litteraire (Geneva), January 9, 1897, pp. 22-23.
Un simple [novel].
Paris: Perrin, 1891.
Paris: Ferenczi, 1924.
Bonne-Dame [novel].
Paris: Perrin, 1891.
Issued serially: Semaine Litteraire (Geneva), September issues,
1895.
L1 empreinte [novel].
Issued serially: Revue de Paris, Nos. 3 and 4, 1895.
Paris: Perrin, 1895.
Paris: Ferenczi, 1922.
Paris: Cyral, 1924.
Pages roumaines [travel impressions].
Cosmopolis, June, 1896.
Reprinted:
Le silence dans la campagne [collection of short stories].
Paris: Perrin, 1926.
Croquis de province: oraisons funbbres [short story].
Semaine Litteraire (Geneva), December 4, 1897, pp. 579-581.
Le ferment [novel].
Issued serially: Revue de P aris, Nos. 1 and 2, 1899.
Paris: Perrin, 1899.
Paris: Ferenczi, 1930.
L'invisible [short story].
Semaine Litteraire (Geneva), VII (September 23, 1899)s 447-452.
133
134
L'dpave [novelette].
Issued serially: Grande Revue, XIX (1901), 1-68.
P aris: P e rrin , 1902.
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Issued serially: Grande Revue, XLIX-L (1908).
P aris: P e rrin , 1908.
P aris: Crfes, 1923.
P aris: Ferenczi, 1928.
Fauteuil XXIX. Edouard Estaunie par D aniel-Rops. Suivi de pages
inedites et de l'h isto ire du XXIV6 fauteuil ("M anuscrit de M. Taffin.
Sainte Letgarde. - -Sa vie et ses m iracles par M. l'abbd Taffin, curd
de Montaigut. Chapitre XII. Comment sainte Letgarde devint e r -
m ite, 1 1 pp. 65-75). P aris: Alcan, 1931.
These pages constitute a p art of La vie secrhte which was never
published in the various editions of the novel.
Le cas de Jean Bunant [short story].
Revue Bleue, 1911, pp. 650-657; pp. 684-690.
Reprinted:
Le silence dans la campagne [collection of short stories].
P aris: P errin , 1926.
Le silence dans la campagne [short story].
Revue Bleue, 1913, pp. 293-297; pp. 331-337.
Reprinted:
Le silence dans la campagne [collection of short stories].
P aris: P errin , 1926.
Les choses voient [novel].
Issued serially: Revue des Deux M ondes, XV-XVI (1913).
P aris: P errin , 1913.
P aris: Cyral, 1931.
Une nuit de noces [short story].
Revue Bleue, 1914, pp. 423-427; pp. 459-461.
Solitudes [collection of three novelettes: "M ^ e Gauche"; "M. Champel";
"Les Jauffrelin"].
Revue des Deux Mondes, XXXVIII-XXXIX (1917), pp. 721-756; pp.
288-325.
P aris: P e rrin , 1917.
Edition revue et corrigee et precddde d'une preface.
P aris: Crhs, 1922.
P aris: Ferenczi, 1922.
L1 ascension de M. Baslhvre [novel].
Issued serially: Revue de P a ris, III-IV (1919).
P aris: P e rrin , 1919.
P aris: Cyral, 1926.
135
P aris: F erenczi, 1926.
P aris: Crhs, 1928.
L'appel de la route [novel].
Issued serially: Revue des Deux Mondes, V-VI (1921).
P aris: P errin , 1922.
Edited with notes and program of work by M arjorie L. Henry. B os
ton: Ginn and Co. , 1926.
P aris: Cyral, 1928.
P aris: Ferenczi, 1929-
Edition definitive. P aris: Hachette, 1930.
L'di'eul [short story].
Semaine L itteraire (Geneva), XXX (December 16, 1922), 613-617.
L'infirm e aux m ains de lum ibre [novelette].
P aris: G rasset, 1923.
P aris: Ferenczi, 1925.
Reprinted:
Le silence dans la campagne [collection of short stories].
P aris: P errin , 1926.
Le labyrinthe [novel].
Issued serially: Revue des Deux M ondes, XX-XXI (1924).
P aris: P errin , 1924.
Voix du village [short story].
Revue Bleue, LXIV (February 6, 1926), 65-70.
Le silence dans la campagne [collection of short stories: "Le silence
dans la campagne"; "Le cas de Jean Bunant"; "Une nuit de noces";
"Pages roum aines"; "La decouverte"; "L 'infirm e aux m ains de lu-
mifere"].
P aris: P errin , 1926.
Tels qu'ils furent [novel].
Issued serially: Revue des Deux M ondes, Y-YI (1926).
P aris: P errin , 1927.
P aris: Cyral, 1929.
Edited with notes, exercises, and vocabulary by F red eric E rn st . . .
and Helhne H arvitt . . . illustrated by Kurt Wiese. Boston: Heath,
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Madame Clapain [novel].
Issued serially: Revue des Deux M ondes, 1931-1932.
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Scientific Works
Les sources d'^nergie ^lectrique. P aris: L ib rairies-Im p rim eries r 6-
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136
Trait£ pratique de telecommunication £lectrique (t^ldgraphie--t^le-
phonie) par Edouard Estaunie, ancien 6l h v e de l'Ecole Polytech
nique, ing£nieur en chef des T^l^’ graphes. P aris: D u n o d ,1904.
Critical Works
"La chronique theStrale: Cercle des Estourneaulx: L 1 empire des dames,
par M. Ldon Vaquez, " Gazette Diplomatique, XII (July 18, 1888), 7.
"La chronique theStrale: Comedie Franqaise; Reprise d1 Oedipe-Roi
(traduction de Jules Lacroix), " Gazette Diplomatique, XII (July 25,
1888), 6-7.
"La chronique thdStrale: Comddie Franqaise: L1 aventurihre, par
Emile Augier, " Gazette Diplomatique, XII (August 1, 1888), 6-7.
"La chronique thdStrale: Le theStre en libertd, " Gazette Diplomatique,
XII (August 8, 1888), 5-6.
"La chronique thdStrale: Opera-Comique: Le sommeil de Danton,
dram a en cinq actes et en vers de M. Clovis Hughes, " Gazette Di
plomatique, XII (August 15, 1888), 5-6.
"La chronique thdatrale: La fete des Felibres, " Gazette Diplomatique,
XII (August 22, 1888), 7.
"La chronique the&trale: [no specific title; discusses various dram atic
elements, such as denouement], " Gazette Diplomatique, XII (August
29, 1888), 7.
"La chronique theStrale: Le the&tre naturaliste, " Gazette Diplomatique,
XII (September 5, 1888), 6-7.
"La chronique theStrale: Palais-Royal: Les joyeusetds de 1'annde, r e
vue en trois actes et sept tableaux par M. de Saint-Albin; Les re-
ouvertures, " Gazette Diplomatique, XII (September 12, 1888), 6-7.
"La chronique theStrale: Odeon: Crime et chg-timent, drame en sept
tableaux, d' aprhs le roman de M. Dostoiewsky, par MM. Paul
Ginisty and Hugues Le Roux, " Gazette Diplomatique, XII (September
19, 1888), 6-7.
"Chronique thdStrale: 1 Le theatre bien fait'; Theatre Ddjazet: Chat en
poche, vaudeville en trois actes, par M. Georges Feydeau; Gym-
nase: Les femmes nerveuses, comddie en trois actes, par MM.
E rnest Blum et Raoul Tochd, " Gazette Diplomatique, XII (Septem
ber 26, 1888), 6-7.
"Les idees et les livres: ’Histoire et politique'; Giacomo Leopardi, par
Edouard Rod; La m arine et les progrhs m odernes, par A. Bocher;
137
La revolution de Philippopoli; Les responsabilit^s, par X . . . , "
Gazette Diplomatique, XII (October 10, 1888), 9-10.
"Les idees et les livres: Le roman: Sur l'eau , par Guy de Maupassant;
La rue des T ro is-B elles, par Albert Cim; Le chemin de la gloire,
par Ouida (2 vols. ), " Gazette Diplomatique, XII (October 24, 1888),
8-9.
"Les id6es et les livres: L ite ra tu re et philosophic: Le reve, par
Emile Zola; Prefaces et m anifestes litt^raires, par de Goncourt; La
transm igration des Smes et Involution ind^finie de la vie au sein de
l'univers, par V. Giraud, " Gazette Diplomatique, XII (October 31,
1888), 12-14.
"Les idees et les livres: Les figarism es de Caliban, par E. B ergerat,"
Gazette Diplomatique, XII (November 29, 1888), 10-11.
"Les id£es et les livres: Histoire r^sum ee de l'Allemagne et de l 1 E m
pire Germanique; leurs institutions au moyen age, par J. Zeller, de
l’Institut; La fin d'un monde, par Edouard Drumont; M emoires et
correspondance de M. Villete, 3e vol. , " Gazette Diplomatique, XII
(December 13, 1888), 9-11.
"Les id£es et les livres: Les fables de La Fontaine, illustr^es par B.
de Monvel; T^legraphe historique depuis les temps les plus recules
jusqu'h nos jo u rs, par A. Belloc; La France r^volutionnaire, par
Ch. d'Hericault; Notre capitale, P a ris , par Ch. Delon, Gazette Di
plomatique, XII (December 20, 1888), 10-11.
"Lea id£es et les livres: Histoire de l'Ecole Navale et des institutions
qui l'ont prec€dee, par~un ancien officier, avec lettre-pr^face du
vice-am iral Jurien de la Gravihre, de l'Acad4mie Franqaise; Livres
d'etrennes: Lettres sur l'lnde, h la frontibre Afghane, par James
D arm esteter, " Gazette Diplomatique, ~XII (December 28, 1888), 9-
10 .
"Les idees et les livres: L'Indo-Chine franqaise, etude politique, eco-
nomique et adm inistrative, par M. J. -L. de Lanessan; Une vie de
jeune fille, par M. de Noce, illustrations de E. Bayard, " Gazette
Diplomatique, XIII (January 3, 1889), 9-10.
"Les idees et les livres: Un coin de province, par Albert Cim; Puck,
par Ouida (2 vols. ); Dedaign£e, par H. de Braisne; Iambes patrio-
tiques, P atrie et Libert^, par"L£on de Jaybert, " Gazette Diploma
tique, XIII (January 10, 1889), 10-11.
"Les idees et les livres: F rederic III--le prince h eritier--l'em p e reu r
--esquisse biographique d£diee h sa m&moire par Rennell Rodd; Les
confessions d'une abbesse du XVIe sifecle, d'aprbs un m anuscrit de
la bibliothhque de Ravenne, par M. A. Gagnihre, " Gazette Diploma
tique, XIII (January 24, 1889), 10-11.
138:
"Les idees et les livres: Le sens de la vie, par M. Edouard Rod, "
Gazette Diplomatique, XIII (February 14, 1889), 10.
"Les idees et les livres: Napoldon c l l 1 lie d'Elbe, par M arcellin Pellet,"
Gazette Diplomatique, XIII (February 21, 1889), 11.
"Les id£es et les livres: F olk-lore br£silien, par F. J. de Santa Anna
Nery, preface du prince Roland Bonaparte, " Gazette Diplomatique,
XIII (March 14, 1889), 10-11.
"Les idees et les livres: M arie Antoinette, sa vie, sa m ort, par F. de
Vyr£, " Gazette Diplomatique, XIII (April 4, 1889), 10-11.
"Les idees et les livres: Franqois Mignet, par Edouard Petit; L 1 E m
pire d'Annam et le peuple annamite, aperqu publie sous les auspices
de 1'A dm inistration des Colonies, par M. I. Silvestre, adm inistra-
teur principal en Cochinchine, " Gazette Diplomatique, XIII (April
18, 1889), 9-10.
"Les idees et les livres: Nouveau journal d'un officier d1 ordonnance,
par M. le Comte d'H ^risson, " Gazette Diplomatique, XIII (May 2,
1889), 10.
"Les idees et les livres: M em oires et correspondance du comte de
Villete, 4e vol. , " Gazette Diplomatiquej XIII (May 16, 1889), 11.
"Les idees et les livres: Un homme lib re , par M aurice Barrfes, " Ga
zette Diplomatique, XIII (May 23, 1889), 10.
"Les idees et les livres: L ettres de Lord Beaconsfield h sa soeur, t r a -
duites et pr€cedees d'une introduction sur Lord Beaconsfield et le
parti T ory, par Alexandre de Haye, " Gazette Diplomatique, XII
(December 20, 1888),. 10-11.
"Les idees et les livres: La reform e de la politique franqaise en E u
rope jusqu'ci la paix de Westphalie, par le vicomte de Meaux (2
vols. ); Le disciple, par M. Paul Bourget, " Gazette Diplomatique,
XIII (July 11, 1889), 9-10.
"Les idees et les livres: F o rt comme la m ort, par Guy de Maupassant;"
Gazette Diplomatique, XIII (July 18, 1889), 9-10.
"Les idees et les livres: La renaissance de la po£sie anglaise, par
Gabriel Sarrazin, " Gazette Diplomatique, XIII (August 8, 1889), 9.
"Les idees et les livres: Le chant du cygne, par Tolstcfi', traduction de
Halp^rine Kaminsky, " Gazette Diplomatique, XIII (August 15, 1889X
9 - 1 0 .
"Les idees et les livres: L'am e des choses, par A. Blondel, pr£c£dd
d'une preface d'A. Theuriet, " Gazette Diplomatique, XIII (August
22, 1889), 9-10.
139
"Les iddes et les livres: Les prou esses (Tune fille, par Albert Cim, "
Gazette Diplomatique, XIII (September 5, 1889), 9-
"Les id£es et les livres: Mam an Capitaine, p ar Victor Fournel, " Ga
zette Diplomatique, XIII (September 19, 1889), 8-9.
"Les iddes et les livres: Coquin d1 am our, par Ren£ Laffon, " Gazette
Diplomatique, XIII (October 3, 1889), 9-10.
"Les iddes et les livres: Le petit gosse, par William Busnach; Jean
Bise, par Jean Honcey; G randterroir, p ar Paul Dys; Le colonel Sa
bretache, par Ouida (2 vols. ); Fou d1 am our, par Charles d'H dri-
cault, " Gazette Diplomatique, XIII (October 31, 1889), 9.
"Im pressions d'art: Corndlius de Vos, " Revue des M usses, No. 51
(November, 1889), 1-3.
"Im pressions d'art: Sur un p o rtrait p ar Van Dyck, " Revue des M usses,
No. 52 (December, 1889), 1-2.
Reprinted in:
Im pressions de Hollande: P etits M aitres. ("Sur un p o rtrait par Van
Dyck, " pp. 65-80.) P aris: P errin , 1893.
"Im pressions d'art: A drien Brauw er, " Revue des M usses, No. 54 (De
cem ber, 1889), 1-2.
Reprinted in:
Im pressions de Hollande: Petits M aitres. ("Adrien Brauwer, " pp.
11-26.) P aris: P errin , 1893. _ _
"Im pressions d'art: Ribot, aquarelliste, " Revue des M usees, No. 55
(July 1, 1890), 3-4.
"Im pressions d'art: Terburg m oraliste, " Revue des M usees, No. 57
(August 1, 1890), 1-4.
Reprinted in:
Im pressions de Hollande: P etits M aitres. ("Terburg m oraliste, "
pp. 27-64. ) P aris: P e rrin , 1893.
"Im pressions d'art: Jules de Strada, " Revue des M usees, No. 60
(September 15, 1890), 1-4.
"Im pressions d'art: M eyndert Hobbema, " Revue des M usdes, No. 64
(November 15, 1890), 1-4.
Reprinted in:
Im pressions de Hollande: Petits M aitres. ("Meyndert Hobbema, "
pp. 111-142.) P aris: P e rrin , 1893.
"Im pressions d'art: J. Jordaens, " Revue des M usdes, No. 66 (Decem
ber 15, 1890), 1-4.
Im pressions de Hollande: Petits M aitres ["Im pressions et critique";
"Adrien Brauwer"; "T erburg m oraliste"; "Sur un p o rtrait par Van
140
Dyck"; "La comedie de Hals"; "M eyndert Hobbema"; "Un M olibre
hollandais"; "G erard Dow"; "A propos de P ieter de Hooch"; "La
dentellifere"]. P aris: P e rrin , 1893.
"La stan ce des om bres g l'E cole Polytechnique, " Revue Hebdomadaire,
XXIV (1894), 453-467.
"Lh-haut d'Edouard Rod, " Revue Bleue, VII (F ebruary 20, 1897), 248-
250.
"La quinzaine th£gtrale: Theatre de l'Odeon: M ab ru , pibce en trois
actes de MM. Bilhaud et F abrice C a r r €, " M em orial Diplomatique,
XXXVII (May 14, 1899), 331-332.
"La quinzaine thegtrale: Comedie Franqaise: Le torrent, pihce en
quatre actes en prose de M. M aurice Donnay, " M em orial Diploma
tique, XXXVII (June 4, 1899), 380-381.
"La quinzaine thdgtrale: M. Franqois de Curel, " M em orial Diploma-
tique, XXXVII (June 25, 1899), 427-429; (August 13, 1899), 540-542;
(August 27, 1899), 573-574; (September 3, 1899), 589~590.
"La quinzaine thegtrale: Comedie Franqaise: FrSle et fo rte, dram e en
un acte de M. Em ile Veyrin; La douceur de c ro ire , pibce en trois
actes et en vers de M. Jacques Normand, " M em orial Diplomatique,
XXXVII (July 23, 1899), 493-494.
"La quinzaine thegtrale: Th^gtre Franqais: R eprise de Malt re Gudrin
et de Froufrou, " M em orial Diplomatique, XXXVII (October 22,
1899), 701-702.
"La quinzaine thegtrale: Ambigu: M am zelle B on-Coeur, dram e en cinq
actes et dix tableaux p ar MM. Ch. Raymond et Ch. Samson; Chgte-
let: Robinson C rusog, dram e en quatre actes et vingt-deux tableaux
par MM. E rn est Blum et P ie rre Decourcelle: Palais-R oyale: L 1 elu
des fem m es, pihce en quatre actes par MM. P. Weber et V. de
Cottens, " M em orial Diplomatique, XXXVII (November 5, 1899),
732-733.
"La quinzaine thegtrale: Th.eg.tre Antoine: P hre n aturel, pifece en trois
actes par MM. E rn est Depre et Paul Charton; Les girouettes, comd-
die en deux actes p ar M. G abriel Vicaire: Oddon: Ch§necoeur, pi&ce
en quatre actes par M. M aurice Souli£; Ambigu: R eprise de C a r
touche par MM. d'Ennery et Paul Dugue; Ath£n£e: L1 am our pleure
et rit, comedie en trois actes par August Germain, " M em orial Di
plomatique, XXXVII (November 19, 1899), 764-765.
"La quinzaine thegtrale: Thegtre de l'Odeon: France . . . d'abord,
dram e en quatre actes en vers par M. Henri de Bornier, " M em orial
Diplomatique, XXXVII (December 17, 1899), 828-829.
141
"La quinzaine thegtrale: Comedie Franqaise: La conscience de 1*enfant,
pibce en quatre actes par M. Gaston Devore, " M em orial Diploma
tique, XXXVII (December 31, 1899), 859-860.
"La quinzaine thdeltrale: Theatre Antoine: En paix, pifece en quatre
actes et six tableaux p ar M. B ruyerre, " M em orial Diplomatique,
XXXVIH (January 21, 1900), 44-45.
"La quinzaine thd&trale: Theatre Antoine: La gitane, pihce en quatre
actes de M. Jean Richepin; Odeon: Les Fourcham bault, comedie en
cinq actes p ar Emile Augier, " M em orial Diplomatique, XXXVIII
(February 11, 1900), 93-94.
"La quinzaine thdStrale: Comedie Franqaise: R eprise de Diane de Lys,
pibce en cinq actes d'Alexandre Dumas; Theatre Antoine: L 1 em -
preinte, pibce en trois actes par M. Abel Hermant; Poil de caro tte,
pihce en un acte par M. Jules Renard, " M em orial Diplomatique,
XXXVIII (March 11, 1900), 156-157.
"La quinzaine th^atrale: Theatre Antoine: La c la irib re , pibce en cinq
actes par MM. L. Des caves et M. Donnay; Bouffes P arisiennes:
Reprise de M iss Hblyett; Theatre de I1 Od^on: Le chaperon rouge,
pibce en trois actes en vers p ar M. Lefebvre, m usique de F. Tho
me, " M em orial Diplomatique, XXXVIII (April 22, 1900), 201-202.
"La quinzaine thecltrale: Theatre Franqais: Charlotte Corday, tragbdie
de Ponsard; Athenee: Francine ou le respect de l'innocence, com e
die en trois actes par M. A m broise Janviers de la Motte, " M em ori
al Diplomatique, XXXVIII (May 6, 1900), 284-285.
"La quinzaine theatrale: Odeon: L 1 enchantem ent, pibce en quatre actes
par M. H. Bataille: Theatre Franqais: Les fo ssiles, pibce en
quatre actes de M. Franqois Curel, " M em orial Diplomatique,
XXXVIII (May 27, 1900), 332-333.
"La quinzaine theatrale: Odeon: La guerre en dentelles, dram e en cinq
actes et sept tableaux de M. G. d'E sparbbs, " M em orial Diploma
tique, XXXVIII (October 28, 1900), 685-686.
"La crise du roman franqais, " Mem p ires de l 1 Academic des Sciences,
A rts, et B elles-L ettres de Dijon, IV (1922), 121-139.
" La responsabilite de l'ecrivain, discours prononce par M. Edouard
Estaunie au banquet de B elles-L ettres du 3 fevrier, 1924, " B elles-
L ettres, M arch, 1924, pp. 201-204.
"Un peu de latin en 'ou, '" Revue de F ra n c e , VI (1924), 170-175.
"La m a ltrise de Dijon, " Revue de F ra n c e , VI (1924), 398.
Buff on, e ssa i. Dijon: Jobard, 1924.
Reprinted:
142
"La vraie figure de Buffon, " Revue Hebdomadaire, V (May 3, 1924),
5-27.
Reprinted:
Roman et province. ("Un Bourguignon: Buffon, " pp. 93-135. ) M ar
seille: Laffont, 1943.
LagerltJf, Selma. Le monde des tro lls . Traduit du sukdois avec l'au-
torisation de I1 auteur par T. Hammar. Preface d1 Edouard Estaunik.
P aris: P errin, 1924.
Anthologie des poktes bourguignons contem porains. Preface d'Edouard
Estauni^. Dijon: Venot, 1924.
" Le roman est-il en danger? (Conference prononcee k la Soci^tk des
Conferences, le 30 janvier, 1925), " Revue Hebdomadaire, II (Feb
ruary, 1925), 131-150.
Reprinted:
Roman et province. ("Le roman est-il en danger?" pp. 17-52. )_
M arseille: Laffont, 1943.
"Chinoiseries, " Revue de F rance, VI (1925), 377-383.
Seance de l'Academie Franqaise du 2 avril, 1925. Discours de recep
tion de M. Edouard Estaunie; r^ponse de M. Robert de F le r s . An-
nales de l'Institut de F rance, VIII (1925). P aris: P errin , 1925.
Gauvain, Victor. La m ort de mon ami, roman. Preface d’Edouard
Estaunie. Paris: P errin, 1925.
Cinquantikme anniversaire de la m ort de George Sand, celkbrk k No
li ant (Indre), le 8 aoQt 1926. Discours de M. Edouard Estaunie.
Annales de l'Institut de F rance,XVIII (1926). P aris: Firmin-Didot,
1926.
Ambrikre, Francis. P arm i les fleurs et la lum ikre, pokm.es par
Francis A m brikre.L e ttr e - p r k f a c e d'Edouard Estaunik. Lyon:
Editions du Fleuve, 1926.
Clement-Janin. L'homme obscur, roman. Preface d'Edouard E stau
nie. P aris: Editions du Monde Moderne, 1926.
Cusy, P ierre, and Germinet, Gabriel. Theatre radiophonique, mode
nouveau d1 expression artistique. L ettre-preface d'Edouard E stau
nie. P aris: Chiron, 1926.
"Une grande manifestation provinciale: Le Congrks de Dijon, " Revue
des Deux Mondes, XL (July 15, 1927), 466-468.
"Le bel avenir, " Revue de F rance, I (1927), 758-764.
Funerailles de M. Jean Richepin, m em bre de l'Academie Franqaise,
143
le jeudi 16 d^cembre 1926. Discours de M. Edouard Estaunid. An-
nales de l'Institut de F ran ce, XXXVII (1927). P aris: Firmin-Didot,
1927.
Discours prononces dans la sdance publique tenue par l'Acaddmie
Frangaise pour la reception de M . Emile MSle, le jeudi 28 juin,
1928. Rdponse de M. Edouard Estaunid au discours de M. Emile
MSle. Annales de l'Institut de France, XI (1928). P aris: F irm in-
Didot, 1928.
"Gaston Roupnel, " Bien Publique (Dijon), January 7, 1931.
Belloni, Georges. La porte d'ivoire. Preface d1 Edouard Estaunid.
P aris: Editions de la Madeleine, 1934.
Dy, Andrd. L 1 ame de l'X. Prdface d1 Edouard Estaunid. P aris: Edi
tions "Spes, " 1934.
1635-1935: Trois sibcles de l'Academie Frangaise par les Quarante.
("L'Academie Frangaise et les academies de province, " pp. 431 -
440.) P aris: Firmin-Didot, 1935.
Lefebvre, Louis. Choix de podm es. Preface d1 Edouard Estaunie.
P aris: P e rrie r, 1935. "
Orly, Claude. L 'erreu r, roman. Prdface d1 Edouard Estaunid. P aris:
Michel, 1935.
Roman et province [introduction by Daniel-Rops; "Le roman est-il en
danger?"; "La province dans la roman frangais"; "Un Bourguignon:
Buffon"; "Une lyrique de la province: M arie Nodi"; "Les Petits
M altres (not to be confused with another work of the same title, i s
sued in 1893)"; "Une sainte au fond d'un couvent"]. M arseille: Laf-
font, 1943.
Secondary M aterial
(arranged alphabetically)
Books Treating the L iterary Works
of Estaunie as a Whole
Cd, Camille. Regards sur l'oeuvre d'Edouard Estaunid. Paris: P e r
rin, I 9 3 5 .
Charpentier, John. Estaunid. Avec un p ortrait en frontispice, un fac
simile d'autographe et un essai de bibliographie par Francis Am-
b rid re. P aris: Firmin-Didot, 1932.
Hok, Ruth C arter. Edward Estaunid, the Perplexed Positivist. New
York: King's Crown P ress, 1949.
144
Schltttke, Charlotte. Die eigenartige literarische Technik Estaunids.
(Leipziger Romanistiche Studien, Vol. II, P a rt 7.) Leipzig: Noske,
1938.
Ziiblin, Antoinette. Edouard Estaunid, le penseur et 1'a rtiste . Thbse
presentee h la prem ihre section de la Facultd de Philosophie de
l'U niversite de Zurich pour 1' obtention du grade de docteur. Geneva:
George, 1929.
Articles and P arts of Longer Works
Treating the L iterary Works
of Estaunid as a Whole
Baldensperger, Fernand. La littdrature frangaise entre les deux
guerres: 1919-1939. Los Angeles: Lymanhouse, 1941. Pp. T57-168.
Beaubourg, Maurice. "Edouard Estaunie et la rdvolution m orale, "
Revue Hebdomadaire, XLIV (July 22, 1933), 475-487.
Beaunier, Andrd. "Les romans de M. Edouard Estaunie, " Revue des
Deux Mondes, LV (January 1, 1920), 218-229-
Bellessort, Andrd. "Silhouettes contemporaines: M. Edouard E stau
nie, " Revue des Deux Mondes, IX (May 15, 1922), 345-364.
Reprinted:
__________ . Nouvelles etudes et autres figures ("Un grand rom ancier
contemporain: Edouard Estaunie, " pp. 236-264). P aris: Bloud
et Gay, 1923.
Bersou, Simone. "Propos sur Edouard Estaunid, " Renaissance d'Oc-
cident (Brussels), October, 1924, pp. 57-68; November, 1924, pp.
358-366.
Bordeaux, Henry. "M. Edouard Estaunid, " Semaine L ittdraire (Gene
va), September 28, 1895, pp. 457-459.
"L 1 empreinte; Le ferment, " Revue Hebdomadaire, V (April,
1899), 690-699.
__________ . Les dcrivains et les m oeurs, 1897-1900. Second edition.
P aris: Fontemoing, [n. d. J. Fb 260.
Bresle, Valentin. "Le m ysticism e et la sensualitd dans l'oeuvre
d'Edouard Estaunid, " E ssor (Dijon), Cahiers 9 and 10 (1930), 19-22.
Byvanck, W. G. C. "Bonne-Dame, " De Gids, May, 1892, pp. 212-
225, 234-237, 255.
Also contains a discussion of Un sim ple. Three of Estaunid's
letters, addressed to Byvanck and translated into Dutch, are in
cluded.
145;
Ce, Camille. "Regards sur l'oeuvre d'Edouard Estaunid, " F igaro,
November 28, 1931.
Not to be confused with the book of the same name by the same
author.
Chastaing, Maxime. "Estaunie et les litterateurs de la conscience
solitaire, " Vie Intellectuelle, XIII (December, 1945), 98r-126.
Chazel, P ierre. "Quelques rom anciers de la solitude: E staunie--
P roust--M auriac, " Foi et Vie, XXVIII (August 1, 1925), 793-801.
"Jansenism e d'Estaunie, " Foi et Vie, XXXIV (March-April,
1933), 300-308.
Clauzel, Raymond. "Edouard Estaunie, " Revue du M ois, December
10, 1908, pp. 684-702.
Clouard, Henri. Histoire de la litterature frangaise, du symbolisme h
nos jo u rs. P aris: Michel, 1947. I, 600-602.
Cousty, Anne. "Edouard Estaunie, " Revue Bleue, March 4, 1933, pp.
143-164.
Crane, Christina A. "Edouard Estaunie, Disciple of Honor^ de Bal
zac, " French Review, XXIII (October, 1949), 10-17.
__________ . "A study of the priest type in the novels of Edouard E stau
nie, " Frennl^^eymw, XXVII (February, 1954), 259-268.
Daniel-Rops. "L'oeuvre et la pensee de M. Edouard Estaunie, " Cor-
respondant, CCCIII (April 25, 1926), 225-252.
__________ . Notre inquietude, essais ("Estaunie et la mystique de la
souffrance, " pp. 241-267). P aris: P errin, 1927.
__________ . Fauteuil XXIV. Edouard Estaunie par Daniel-Rops. Suivi
de pages inedites et de l'histoire du XXIVe Fauteuil. ("Les Quar-
ante, " collection publiee sous la direction de Jacques des Gachons. )
Paris: Alcan, 1931.
Delacour, Andre. "M. Edouard Estaunie, " Belles - L ettres, IX (No
vember 1, 1923), 456-463.
Durantel, J. "Un nouveau m al du sihcle: le sentiment moderne de la
solitude et l'oeuvre de M. Edouard Estaunie, " Vie des Peuples, XVI
(August, 1925), 702-715.
E rnest-C harles, Jean. La litterature frangaise d'aujourd'hui. Paris:
P errin, 1902. P. 343.
__________ . Les samedis litteraires, prem ihre serie. P aris: P errin,
1903. Pp. 109-110.
146
L 'esso r, revue bourguignonne d 'art et de lite r a tu r e (Dijon). Numdro
special en hommaee d’Edouard Estaunid. Cahiers 9 and 10 (1931),
39 pp.
Contains articles by Georges Duhamel, Camille M auclair, Saint-
Georges de Bouhelier, Phileas Lebesgne, Andrd Foulon de Vaux,
Jean Desthieux, P. Y. Le Guenn, and Valentin B resle. The m ost
significant article is that of Valentin B resle, titled: "Le m ysticism e
et la sensualitd dans l’oeuvre d'Edouard Estaunid, " pp. 19-22.
* 1 _
Gerlache, P ie rre de. "Les iddes de M. Edouard Estaunid, " Revue
Gdndrale (Brussels), CXI (April 15, 1924), 488-495.
Glazer, Kurt. "Das Wesen der Romankunst E staunids," Archiv fllr das
Studium der neuren Sprachen und Literaturen, CLIII (1928), 88-100.
Guirand, Felix. "L ouis-M arie-E douard Estaunid, " Larousse Mensuel,
VI (June, 1925), 805-806.
Harvey, John Edward, Jr. "Edward Estaunid, Critic and Reviewer, "
Modern Language Notes, LXI (February, 1951), 100-102.
Herman, Abraham. "M aupassant as a Source of Estaunid1 s Conception
of Solitude, " French Revue, XVIII (January, 1945), 141-145.
L asserre, P ie rre . "Sous la coupole: M. Edouard Estaunid regu par M.
Robert de F lers prendra place aujourd'hui au fauteuil d'Alfred Ca-
pus, " E clair, April 2, 1925.
Reprinted:
___________. Faust en France et autres etudes ("Edouard Estaunid, h
1'occasion de sa reception h l'Academ ie Frangaise, " pp. 149-
157). P aris: Calmann-Levy, 1929.
Lehner, F ritz. "Edouard Estaunid, " Z eitschrift fllr Franzbsische
Sprache und L iteratur, LVII (1935), 96-103. —
P artially reprinted and translated:
Lehner, Frederick. "The German Reaction to Estaunid, " Books
Abroad, XIV (Summer, 1940), 233-236.
Lorrain, M arc. "L'oeuvre de M. Edouard Estaunie, " Revue Mondiale,
CLVI (December 1, 1923), 332-336.
M auriac, Frangois. "Le rom an d'aujourd'hui, " Revue Hebdomadaire,
II (February, 1927), 249-281 [p. 280].
Mornet, Daniel. Histoire de la litteratu re et de la pensde frangaises
contemporaines (1870-1934). Troisidm e tirage, revu et augmentd.
P aris: Bibliothdque Larousse, 1935. Pp. 94-95.
Narsy, Raoul. "M. Edouard Estaunid, " Debats, November 17, 1923.
P ellissier, Georges. Etudes de litteratu re contemporaine, prem idre
sdrie. P aris: P errin, 1898. Pp. 161-170.
147
P ellissier, Georges. Le mouvement littd raire contemporain. Second
edition. P aris: Plon-N ourrit, 1901. Pp. 91-93.
Pontet, M aurice. "Les romans d'Edouard Estaunid, 1 1 Etudes, Decem
ber 5, 1929> pp. 523-541; December 20, 1929i pp. 667-683.
La Revue des Visages, critique littdraire, artistique, paraissant tous
les m ois. Numdro consacrd h Edouard Estaunid avec un po rtrait
ho rs-tex te, VI (March, 1928), 20 pp.
Contains the following articles: Robert Yalette, "E ntretien avec
Edouard Estaunid"; Raoul Follereau, "Edouard Estaunid vu p ar un
pobte"; Andre Lamandd, "Edouard Estaunid, rom ancier"; George
Machin, "Edouard Estaunid, president de- la Socidtd des Gens de
L ettres. "
Roz, Firm in. "Edouard Estaunid, " Revue F rang aise, XVIII (Novem
ber 25, 1923), 595-596.
Schnapfer, Paul. "Edouard Estaunid, " Nouvelles L ittd ra ire s, Septem
ber 1, 1923.
Vallery-Radot, Robert. "Le sens de l'Sme dans l'oeuvre de M. E stau
nie, " Revue Hebdomadaire, XX (September 13, 1924), 329-340.
Vermeulen, Francois. "P o rtra it d'ecrivains: Edouard Estaunid, " Re
vue Beige (Brussels), III (September 15, 1928), 484-496.
Vier, Jacques. "Edouard Estaunid, rom ancier d'ctmes, " Revue de
1'Quest (Nantes), V (October, 1931), 13-16.
Wahrholz, W erner. "Das heimliche Frankreich: Edouard Estaunid, "
L iterarische Echo, XXVIII (1926), 643-645.
A rticles and P arts of Longer Works
Devoted to a Single L iterary Work
or Collection of Works by Estaunid
Un simple
P ellissier, Georges. "Un sim ple," Revue Encyclopddique, 1891, pp.
358-359.
Bonne-Dame
Faguet, Emile. "Bonne-Dame, " Revue Bleue, XLVIII (November 14,
1891), 632-633.
Renard, Jules. "Bonne-Dame, " M ercure de France, IV (January,
1892), 87-88.
Li1 em preinte
P ellissier, Georges. " L1 em preinte, 1 1 Revue Encyclopedique, 1895,
pp. 443-445.
. "Le p r itre dans le roman frangais moderne, " Revue des
Revues, XXX (July 1, 1899), 39-51; 257-265.
Rachilde. "L'em preinte, " M ercure de France, XVII (January, 1896),
134.
Le ferment
Beaunier, Andre. 1 1 Le ferm ent, " Revue Bleu^, XI (April 29, 1899),
534-537.
Berenger, Henry. "Un prol£taire intellectuel dans le roman frangais,'
Semaine Litteraire (Geneva), VII (June 24, 1899), 289-291.
Bremond, Henri. "M. Estaunie et le 'Roman de l'Ecole Centrale,
Etudes, LXXXI (November .20, 1899)r 511-526.
Faguet, Emile. "Le ferm ent," Revue Bleue, XII (September 2, 1899),
300-303.
P ellissier, Georges. "Le ferment, " Revue Encyclopedique, June 17,
1899, pp. 464-467.
__________ . Etudes de litterature contemporaine, deuxifeme serie.
Paris: P errin, 1900.
Le ferment is mentioned several times in a long article concern
ing the politician in contemporary French literature, beginning on
page 237 and continuing through page 268.
Rachilde. " Le ferm ent, " M ercure de F rance, XXXI (June, 1899), 763
L1 epave
Albalat, Antoine. "L'epave," La Revue, XL (March 15, 1902), 730-
731.
Ernest-C harles, J. "L'epave," Revue Bleue, XVII (March 8, 1902),
310.
Ledrain, E. " L'gpave, " Illustration, LX (February 22, 1902), 131.
Rachilde. "L'epave, " M ercure de F rance, XLI (April, 1902), 192.
149
La vie secrete
Chantavoine, Henri. " La vie secrete, 1 1 Debats, February 2, 1909.
Hall, J. N. van. " La vie secrete, 1 1 De Gids, February, 1909, pp.
372-375.
Maury, Lucien. " La vie secrhte, " Revue Bleue, X (November 7,
1908), 601-603.
P ellissier, Georges. "La vie secrbte, " La Revue, LXX (December
15, 1908), 523-528.
Rachilde. " La vie secrfete, " M ercure de France, LXXVT (November 1,
1908), 102-104.
Viollis, Jean. "La vie secrhte, " Marges, January, 1909, pp. 44-46.
Les choses voient
Clouard, Henri. "Les choses voient, " Revue Critique des Idees et des
Livres, XXIV (ISO), 196.
Gheon, Henri. " Les choses voient, " Nouvelle Revue Frangaise, XI
(January, 1914)^ 143-146.
L asserre, P ierre. "Les choses voient," Action Frangaise, November
15-16, 1913.
Maury, Lucien. "Les choses voient, " Revue Bleue, LI (October 4,
1913), 443-446.
Narsy, Raoul. " Les choses voient, " Ddbats, November 22, 1913.
Rachilde. "Les choses voient," M ercure de France, CVI (November
1, 1913), 132-133.
Roger-Cornaz, F. "Les choses voient, " Semaine L itteraire (Geneva),
XXI (October 18, 1913), 497-499.
Roz, Firm in. "Les choses voient," Revue Frangaise, IX (October 19,
1913), 61-62.
Solitudes
Albalat, Antoine. "Solitudes, " Revue Bleue, LVI (March 2, 1918), 160.
Mauclair, Camille. "Solitudes, " Semaine Littdraire (Geneva), XXY
(September 22, 1917), 450.
150
Rachilde. "Solitudes," Mercure de France, CXXIII (September 1,
1917), 105-106.
Thibaudet, Albert. "Les romans pendant la guerre, " Nouvelle Revue
Frangaise, XIII (June-September, 1919), 138-139-
L 1 ascension de M. Baslhvre
Mauclair, Camille. "Llascension de M. Basldvre, " Semaine Littdraire
(Geneva), XXVII (November 15, 1919), 515-517.
Maury, Lucien. " L1 ascension de M. Basldvre, " Revue Bleue, Novem
ber 1, 1919, 666-669-
Nanteuil, Jacques. "L1 ascension de M. Basldvre, " Nouvelle Journde,
December 1, 1919, pp- 540-546.
Praviel, Armand. "L' ascension de M. Basldvre, " Polybiblion Littd
raire, XC (1920), 89-90.
Souday, Paul. "L 1 ascension de M. Basldvre, " Temps, January 8,
1920 .
L'appel de la route
Bidou, Henry. "L'appel de la route, " Revue de P aris, II (March 15,
1922), 424-433.
Boulenger, Jacques. "L'appel de la route, " L'Opinion, February 11,
1922, pp. 148-150.
Reprinted and augmented:
__________ . . . . Mais l1 art est difficile, troisidme serie ("L'appel de
la route, " pp. 173-183). Paris: Plon-Nourrit, 1922.
Cahuet, Albdric. "Le roman de la souffrance, " Illustration, CLIX
(February 11, 1922), 141.
Gilkin, Iwan. "L'appel de la route, " Revue Beige (Brussels), XCVI
(January 1, 1924), 96-107.
Gillouin, Rend. Esquisses litteraires et m orales ("Edouard Estaunid,
d. propos de L'appel de la route, " pp. 29-38; "Retour sur Edouard
Estaunid, " pp. 116-119). Paris: Grasset, 1926.
Jaloux, Edmond. "L'appel de la route," Revue Hebdomadaire, XVIII
(March 25, 1922), 489-493.
Lidvre, P ierre. "L'appel de la route, " Marges, XXIII (March 15,
1922), 233.
151
Praviel, Armand. "L'appel de la route, " Polybiblion Littdraire, XCY
(1922), 169-170.
Rachilde. "L'appel de la route, " M ercure de France, CLVII (July 15,
1922), 452.
Roz, Firm in. "L'appel de la route, " Revue Bleue, LX (February 4,
1922), 92-94.
Souday, Paul. " L'appel de la route, " Temps, February 2, 1921.
Thibaudet, Albert. "Le roman de la douleur: Edouard Estaunid et
L'appel de la route, " Nouvelle Revue Frangaise, April 1, 1922, pp.
460-470.
Reprinted:
- ______ . Le liseur de rom ans. P aris: Crds, 1925. Pp. 161-175.
L’infirme aux mains de lumidre
Kemp, Robert. "L'infirm e aux mains de lumidre, " Liberte, August
13, 1923, p. 2.
Le Grix, Frangois. "L'infirm e aux mains de lumidre, " Revue Hebdo
m adaire, IX (September 1, 1923), 104-110.
Pawlowski, G. de. "L'infirm e aux mains de lumifere, " Annales,
LXXXI (November 18, 1923), 57-58.
Pierrefeu, Jean de. "L'infirm e aux mains de lumidre, " Debats, Au
gust 22, 1923.
Praviel, Armand. "L'infirm e aux mains de lumidre, " Polybiblion Lit
td raire, XCVII (1923), 88.
Rachilde. "L'infirm e aux mains de lumidre, " M ercure de France,
CLXX (February 15, 1924), 171.
Roz, Firmin. " L'infirme aux mains de lumidre, " Revue Bleue, De
cember 1, 1923, pp. 813-814.
Souday, Paul. "L'infirm e aux mains de lumidre, " Temps, August 12,
1923.
Le labyrinthe
Bidou, Henry. " Le labyrinthe, " Revue de P aris, Y (September 1,
1924), 220-224. “
Charpentier, John. "Le labyrinthe, " M ercure de France, LXXIV
(September 15, 1924), 761-763.
152'
Daniel-Rops. "Le labyrinthe," Chronique des Lettres Franqaises, III
(1925), 115-116.
Jaloux, Edmond. "Le labyrinthe, " Nouvelles L itteraires, August 9,
1924.
Marcel, Gabriel. "Le labyrinthe, " Nouvelle Revue Frangaise, XXIII
(July, 1924), 370-372.
Pawlowski, G. de. " Le labyrinthe, " Annales, LXXXIII (July 27, 1924),
90-92.
Souday, Paul. " Le labyrinthe, " Temps, July 10, 1924.
Th^rive, Andr£. " Le labyrinthe, " Opinion, August 8, 1924, pp. 11-12.
Reprinted:
__________ . Opinions litteraires ("Le labyrinthe, " pp. 279-286).
Paris: Bloud et Gay, 1925.
Le silence dans la campagne
Charpentier, John. " Le silence dans la campagne, " M ercure de
F rance, CLXXXVI (February 15, 1926), 175-176.
Jaloux, Edmond. " Le silence dans la campagne, " Nouvelles Litte
raires, January 9, 1926.
Souday, Paul. "Le silence dans la campagne, " Temps, December 10,
1925.
Tels qu'ils furent
Charpentier, John. " Tels qu'ils furent, " M ercure de F rance, CXCV
(April 1, 1927), 161-162.
Daniel-Rops. "Tels qu’ils furent, " Chronique des lettres francjaises,
Y (1927), 276-277.
Jaloux, Edmond. "Tels qu'ils furent, " Nouvelles Littdraires, May 14,
1927.
Loewel, P ierre. " Tels qu'ils furent, " Avenir, March 10, 1927, p. 2.
Praviel, Armand. " Tels qu'ils furent, " Correspondant, July 10, 1927,
pp. 39-40.
Roz, Firmin. "Le roman: dans un decor bourgeois d'il y a cinquante
ans, " Revue Bleue, March 19, 1927, pp. 181-183.
Souday, Paul. " Tels qu'ils furent, " Temps, February 17, 1927, p. 3.
153'
Madame Clapain
Charpentier, John. "Madame Clapain, " M ercure de France, CCXXXV
(May 1, 1932), 666-^69.
Praviel, Armand. "Madame Clapain, " Polybiblion Littdraire, June,
1932, p. 330.
Rdgnier, Henri de. "Madame Clapain, " F igaro, April 5, 1932, p. 5.
Interviews with Estaunid
Ce, Camille. "Huit jours chez M. Edouard Estaunid, " Revue Hebdo
m adaire, VI (June 1, 1935), 49-70.
Reprinted:
__________ . Regards sur l'oeuvre d1 Edouard Estaunid ("L'homme, "
pp. 1-38). Paris: P errin, 1935.
Peret, Benjamin. "GoGts et preferences d'Acaddmicien: on n1 avait ja
mais interview^ M. Edouard Estaunid, " Journal Littdraire, M arch
28, 1925, pp. 3-4.
Valette, Robert. "Entretien avec Edouard Estaunid, " Revue des Vi
sages, VI (March, 1928), 2-8.
Villemot, Henri. "Quelques propos de M. Edouard Estaunid, " Bour
gogne d1 Or, December, 1933, pp. 37-41.
Unpublished Doctoral Dissertations
Concerning Estaunid and His Works
Harvey, John Edward, Jr. "Edouard Estaunid and Religion. " Unpub
lished Ph. D. Dissertation, Harvard University, 1952.
Krauss, Ernestine. "Edouard Estaunid, der Dichter und sein Werk. "
Unpublished Ph. D. Dissertation, University of Vienna, February,
1933.
Miscellaneous Works Consulted in the
Preparation of this Dissertation
Bourget, Paul. Gruelle dnigme. Profils perdus. Edition ddfinitive.
Paris: Plon-Nourrit, [n. d. J.
Le disciple. Edition ddfinitive. Paris: Plon-Nourrit, Tn.
d l
__________ . Le demon de Midi. P aris: Plon-Nourrit, 1914.
154
Dauzat, Albert. Le sentiment de la nature et son expression artistique.
Paris: Alcan, 1914.
France, Anatole. Oeuvres completes illustrees. Vol. V: Thaii's;
L'^tui de nacre. Vol. XI: Histoire contemporaine: L'orm e du mail;
Le mannequin d1 osier. Paris: Calmann-L^vy, 1925, 1927.
Lemaltre, Jules. Contemporains, deuxibme sdrie, troisibme s£rie.
Paris: Society Frangaise d'Imp rime r ie e t de Librairie, [n. d.].
APPENDI X
APPENDIX
Abbreviations Used in the Footnotes
to Designate the Literary Works of Estaunid
SUM Symphonie en ut mineur trouvde dans un carnet. Semaine
Litteraire (Geneva), January 9, 1897, pp. 22-23.
Sim Un sim ple. Paris: Perrin, 1891.
BD Bonne-Dame. Paris: Perrin, 1891.
Emp L1 empreinte. Paris: Perrin, 1895.
CP Croquis de province: oraisons funbbres. Semaine Litteraire
(Geneva), December 4, 1897, pp. 579-581.
F er Le ferm ent. Paris: Perrin, 1899.
Inv L'invisible. Semaine Littdraire (Geneva), VII (September
23, 1899), 447-452.
Ep L1 epave. Paris: Perrin, 1902.
VS La vie secrbte. Paris: Perrin, 1908.
CV Les choses voient. Paris: Perrin, 1913.
Sol Solitudes. Paris: Perrin, 1917.
AB L'ascension de M. Baslfevre. Paris: Perrin, 1919.
AR L'appel de la route. Paris: Hachette, 1930.
Lab Le labyrinthe. Paris: Perrin, 1924.
VV Voix du village. Revue Bleue, LXV1 (February 6, 1926),
65-70.
SC Le silence dans la campagne. Paris: Perrin, 1926.
SC-SC "Le silence dans la campagne. "
SC-CB "Le cas de Jean Bunant. "
SC-PR "Pages roumaines."
SC-Dec "La decouverte. "
156
SC-IL "L'infirme aux mains de lumibre. "
TF Tels qu'ils furent. Paris: Perrin, 1927.
MC Madame Clapain. Paris: Perrin, 1932.

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Creator Ball, Bertrand Logan, Jr. (author)

Core Title The Role Of Nature In The Novels, Novelettes, And Short Stories Of Edouard Estaunie

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Degree Program French

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Advisor Belle, Rene F. (committee chair), McMahon, Dorothy Elizabeth (committee member), Poujol, Jacques (committee member)

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