University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses

An Examination Of Three Major Novels In World Literature In The Light Of Critical Precepts Derived From Tolstoy'S "What Is Art?"

(USC Thesis Other)

An Examination Of Three Major Novels In World Literature In The Light Of Critical Precepts Derived From Tolstoy'S "What Is Art?"

PDF

Download a page range

Download transcript

Copy asset link

Request this asset

Transcript (if available)

Content This d issertatio n has been 64-6234
m icrofilm ed exactly as received
ATER, J r . , Leroy E arl, 1929-
AN EXAMINATION OF THREE MAJOR NOVELS IN
WORLD LITERATURE IN THE LIGHT OF CRITICAL
PRECEPTS DERIVED FROM TOLSTOY’S WHAT IS
A RT? -------------
U niversity of Southern C alifornia, Ph. D ., 1964
Language and L ite ra tu re , general
University Microfilms, Inc.. A nn Arbor, Michigan
AN EXAMINATION OF THREE MAJOR NOVELS IN
WORLD LITERATURE IN THE LIGHT OF
CRITICAL PRECEPTS DERIVED FROM
TOLSTOY’S WHAT IS ART?
by
Leroy Earl Ater, Jr.
A Dissertation Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
(Comparative Literature)
January 1964
UNIVERSITY O F S O U T H E R N CALIFORNIA
GRADUATE SCHOOL
UNIVERSITY PARK
LOS ANGELES 7. CALIFORNIA
This dissertation, written by
.........
under the direction of h^uj...Dissertation C o m
mittee, and a p p r o v e d by all its m em bers, 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
Dean
D a te .. A ' e M. C f <’ *
/
DISSERTATION COMM I'l'TIT
SLfCr,
('hairmai
A/ ,
l\i&J
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter Page
I. CRITICAL PRECEPTS FORMULATED FROM
WHAT IS A R T ? .................................... 1
Introduc t ion
Tolstoy^s Definition of Art
Tolstoy1s Historical Argument Supporting
his Definition of Art
The Status of Contemporary Art
Dominant Ideas in What is Art?
The Specific Task of This Paper
II. ANNA KARENINA...................................... 52
Introduction and General Observations
From Emotional Experience into Artistic Form
(What is Art?)
Counterfeit Art versus Genuine Art
Art for All Men
The Meaning or Purpose of the Novel
III. G E R M I N A L ........................................... 131
Introduction and General Observations
Emotional Experience in Zolafs Art
Counterfeit Art versus Genuine Art
Art for All Men
The Meaning or Purpose in Germinal
IV. THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY F I N N ............ 209
Introduction and General Observations
From Emotional Experience into Artistic Form
(What is Art?)
ii
Chapter
Page
Counterfeit Art versus Genuine Art
Art for All Men
The Meaning or Purpose of the Novel
V. CONCLUSION ..........................
Introduction
What is Art?
Counterfeit Art versus Genuine Art
Art for All Men
The Meaning or Purpose of the Novels
BIBLIOGRAPHY ..............................
288
384
iii
CHAPTER I
THE CRITICAL PRECEPTS FORMULATED FROM WHAT IS ART?
Introduction
This paper will be an examination of three great
novels of the world— each selected from a different
country--from the viewpoint of critical commentary derived
from Leo Tolstoy's What is Art?. The three novels,
Tolstoy's own Anna Karenina, finile Zola's Germinal, and
Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn, made their initial appear
ances at various intervals during the nineteenth century.
They have maintained their standing as acknowledged master
pieces to the present day. To the extent that What is Art?
offers valid critical insight into these novels, it should
be of similar value as a critical approach to much of
twentieth century literature.
The purposes in presenting this paper are twofold.
First, the application of critical precepts taken from
1
What Is Art? to acknowledged masterpieces affords an oppor
tunity to assess the value of this work as literary criti
cism. Second, a study of each of these novels has its own
intrinsic value.
An attempt to answer such a question as "What is art?"
will more likely produce vertigo than a sensible answer.
Tolstoy pondered the subject for a number of years before
he was able to organize his ideas in a form sufficiently
logical to satisfy himself.^ A great many minds have
become deeply absorbed with the question. Preoccupation
with its philosophical ramifications would lead far beyond
the issues of this paper. In search for a wholesome per
spective on the subject, Rudyard Kipling*s short poem
offers balance.
When the flush of a new-born sun fell first
on Eden's green and gold,
Our father Adam sat under the tree and scratched
with a stick in the mould;
Ernest J. Simmons observes that Tolstoy "...
finished his famous work in 1897 and it marks the culmina
tion point of fifteen years of thought and study, a fact
unknown or disregarded by captious critics who treated
What is Art? as something that has leaped full-born from
Tolstoy's brain at a dyspeptic moment when he had arbi
trarily concluded that there shall be no more cakes and ale
for the artists of the world." Leo Tolstoy (Boston, 1946),
p. 536.
3
And the first rude sketch that the world has
seen was joy to his mighty heart,
Till the Devil whispered behind the leaves:
’It’s pretty, but is it art?
In deference to the suggestion of Kipling's poem, this
paper will not be concerned inordinately with whether or
not Tolstoy has given the world the best answer to the
question, ’ ’ What is art?” Instead it will consider
Tolstoy's essay from the standpoint of whether or not it
offers precepts of literary criticism which are practical,
workable tools for the examination and interpretation of
great works of art.
To achieve this end, the paper will be organized in
the following manner. This introductory chapter will set
forth certain critical standards by which the selected
novels may be measured. The application of those critical
precepts to each of the three novels will constitute
separate chapters. Finally, a concluding chapter will com
pare and extend the findings of the preceding chapters.
It will present the work and ideas of three of the world's
great novelists, Leo Tolstoy, Emile Zola, and Mark Twain
2
The Burwash Edition of the Complete Works in Prose
and Poetry of Rudyard Kipling. XXVI (1941), 283.
4
from the point of view of comparative literature.
Have the ideas set forth in What is Art?, a book which
now has been in print in English for more than sixty years,
had any impact on the aesthetic or philosophical world?
It is possible to find reviewers who have ridiculed
Tolstoy's book, and it is also possible to find penetrating
thinkers who have confessed that they are at least dis
turbed by it. Probably no one has ever been completely
convinced by Tolstoy's arguments in this essay. What is
Art? has, however, influenced some important men in
letters. In France, for instance, both Andre Suares and
Romain Rolland felt the idealistic influence of Tolstoy's
theories when they were still at a stage of youthful im
pressionism. Suares never completely agreed with Tolstoy's
theory that art could be measured by its social utility,
but his early writings indicated that he met Tolstoy more
than half way. As Suares matured, he strongly denounced,
with the furor of a converted disciple, many of the ideas
he had previously applauded in Tolstoy's writings.
From adolescence onward, Romain Rolland revered
Tolstoy. Records of their mutual correspondence show that
the young Frenchman sought spiritual and artistic guidance
from the Russian novelist. Rolland*s Tolstoy, une vie
reads like the eulogy of a departed saint. Many of
Tolstoy*s ideas, such as the communion of the brotherhood
of man and the prostitution of modern art, are clearly set
forth in Jean Christophe. Nevertheless, most critics feel
that Rolland*s thinking was actually not as completely
dependent upon Tolstoy*s critical canons as the young
Frenchman claimed. The reactions of the two authors to
specific writers and musicians, especially Beethoven, were
quite different. Perhaps the younger man*s veneration for
his elder teacher prevented him from openly voicing dis
agreement where he felt it.^
Two observations can be made of What is Art? without
. . / opposition. The first is that there is something com-
o.lling, something provocative in the book, especially for
young men. The second is that in spite of this initial
attraction, in spite of Tolstoy*s convincing style and his
unrelenting logic, What is Art? has not inordinately dis
turbed the worlds of art and literature.
3
F. W. J. Hemmings discusses at length the written
reactions of Suares and Rolland to Tolstoy’s What is Art?
in his The Russian Novel in France (Oxford, 1950), pp. 195-
221.
6
What is it that makes What is Art? worthwhile or
attractive to many readers? Perhaps Tolstoy's name lends
stature to the work. A consummate artist as a novelist,
Tolstoy deserves consideration when he voices his mature,
long-considered thoughts on the subject of art. More than
this, however, there is a wholesomeness about the approach
itself. A positive moral emphasis set forth by a great
Christian and great artist must give readers occasion to
pause. In no uncertain terms, Tolstoy tells us that art
should be worthy of man rather than man worthy of art.
Art should unite man with man. Art should express the
highest insights and perceptions of the culture which pro
duces it. These ideas are positive and they are vital.
No matter what exception a critic may take to Tolstoy's
aesthetic framework, he cannot completely ignore the force
of the arguments Tolstoy advances unless he compartmental
izes his own ideas of art, and, in effect, refuses to con
sider the world at large and mankind in general in the
development of his own aesthetic theories.
If this is true, why do the majority of art critics
pass Tolstoy's arguments by with a nod of deference but
with little inclination to integrate his ideas seriously
with their own? The answer is simple. Proceeding from
his carefully conceived definition, Tolstoy, with forceful
logic and extraordinary sincerity, has clearly delineated
the boundaries of what he considered art. His initial
definitions have forced him to exclude from the category of
art the great bulk of what the cultured classes in Europe
consider to be art. Had Tolstoy paid deference to the
existence of these works by stating that he was delineating
what he thought art should be rather than what it is, he
would undoubtedly have made more friends. As it is,
Tolstoy tells the world that the greater part of what it
considers artistic is not. Thus, the majority of conven
tional critics dismiss the precepts set forth by the great
Russian master.
It is obvious, then, that either Tolstoy was wrong or
the rest of the world was, and still is, wrong. What,
then, does this paper seek to achieve? It will not try to
defend Tolstoy's aesthetic system against all the rest of
the competitive systems that have appeared in the world.
It will, however, try to determine whether his aesthetic
observations are valid tools for criticism, not only of
those works like certain novels of Dickens which Tolstoy
considered as art, but also of works such as Zola's
Germinal which the Russian master classified as "counter
feit art."
Tolstoy's Definition of Art
Tolstoy’s entire aesthetic framework is organized
around the question expressed by the title of his essay.
He poses his problem by showing dramatically that all the
activity passing under the label of art costs mankind a
great deal in terms of physical effort, mental strain, and
psychological well-being. This cost makes it mandatory
that society ask the questions "What is art?" and "Is it
worth its price?" In general, Tolstoy answers these ques
tions by developing his own definition and by assuring us
that art, as he defines it, is of great value to mankind.
A great deal of expression traditionally conceived to be
art, is, according to his definition, counterfeit. He con
demns counterfeit art on the grounds that it has a destruc
«
tive effect upon mankind. Using his own definition of
"What is art?" Tolstoy moves in two directions as he
develops his treatise. On one hand he attacks all that he
dislikes and considers unnatural in what was traditionally
conceived of as art. On the other he formulates the posi
tive qualities of what he considers genuine art.
Before proceeding any further with an analysis of
Tolstoy's aesthetic theory, it is necessary to examine more
carefully the manner in which he presents his definition
of art. Although the cry "Art for art's sake" was loudly
voiced in the closing decades of the nineteenth century,
Tolstoy announced early and clearly in What is Art? that
he was no adherent of this school. His approach to the
subject in the opening pages of his treatise indicates that
he judged the value of art by considering its benefit and
its cost to human beings.
Both Tolstoy the artist and Tolstoy the moralist are
evident at the very outset of his disquisition as he drama
tizes the need to ask the question, "What is art?" First
he calls attention to the vast amount of contemporary
activity--art exhibits, publications, dramatic performances,
and opera--that parade under the name of art. Then he
reflects that thousands of human beings work long hours
every day year in and year out at these activities and,
still worse, hundreds of thousands more labor in other ways
to make these activities possible. It is in view of the
10
cost of human effort expended and of human personality
sacrificed that Tolstoy asks the questions, "What is art?"
and "Is it worth the cost?" He dramatizes this problem by
portraying the conflict and frustration he witnessed in the
rehearsal of a mediocre opera.
. . . The whole of such a rehearsal lasts six hours
on end. Raps with the stick, repetitions, placings,
corrections of the singers, of the orchestra, of the
procession, of the dancers--all seasoned with angry
scolding. I heard the words, "asses," "fools," "idiots,"
"swine," addressed to the musicians and singers at least
forty times in the course of one hour. And the unhappy
individual to whom the abuse is addressed . . . physi
cally and mentally demoralized, does not reply, and does
what is demanded of him.^
Tolstoy does not decry hard work. His own life and
literary productions are evidence of this. He does, how
ever, object to this scene for two reasons. He objects to
one human being suffering humiliation at the hands of
another. By way of a comparison he tells us that, much in
the same vein as the scene he has just described, a young
farm hand might receive a reprimand for carelessly stacking
hay and thereby endangering the fruit of his own labor and
that of his fellow workers. Tolstoy points out, though,
4
Leo Tolstoy, What is Art?, trans. by Aylmer Maude
(New York, 1898), p. 5.
11
that this type of work is necessary, and therefore the
inevitable friction between human personalities is justi
fied. But in the case of so-called "art," he questions
whether the cost is worth the result.
The Russian master's second objection--and his entire
life and thought are a reflection of this--is that human
activity that does not manifest some worthwhile purpose is
destructive. Tolstoy continues by ridiculing the perform
ance that came out of the unhappy preparations he has just
described. Then he poses a question, "For whom is all this
done?" which in turn leads to the cardinal issue of the
book.
Instinctively the question presents itself--For whom
is all this being done? Whom can it please? If there
are, occasionally, good melodies in the opera, to which
it is pleasant to listen, they could have been sting
simply, without these stupid costumes and all the pro
cessions and recitative and hand wavings.
The ballet, in which half-naked women make voluptuous
movements, twisting themselves into various sensual
wreathings, is simply a lewd performance.
So one is quite at a loss as to whom these things are
done for. The man of culture is heartily sick of them,
while to a real working man they are utterly incompre
hensible. If anyone can be pleased by these things
(which is doubtful), it can only be some young footman
or depraved artisan, who has contracted the spirit of
the upper classes but is not yet satiated with their
amusements, and wishes to show his breeding. (What
is Art?, pp. 66-67)
12
Tolstoy*s ability to draw sharp images is apparent
as he uses this example of the rehearsal and the perform
ance of an opera (a form of entertainment that the great
novelist was never able to bring himself to appreciate)
to denounce what he disliked in contemporary art. By his
denunciation of this specific performance, because of its
cost in terms of human personality and because of its lack
of purpose, he sets forth by implication two requirements
for genuine and worthwhile art: It should have a wholesome
and integrating effect on human personality; it should have
a worthwhile purpose. Perhaps these two requirements are
one and the same thing.
What, then, is art that it can fulfill these require
ments? Tolstoy turns next to this question. He points out
that the ordinary European associates art and beauty with
out giving much thought to the correlation between the two.
This kind of thinking is difficult for the Russian people
because there is no word for "beauty" in the Russian lan
guage that has as universal an application as this word has
in English or in most European languages.
In the third chapter of What is Art? Tolstoy begins
his search for an adequate definition of art by reviewing
13
the works of sixty European philosophers who wrote on
aesthetics. He begins with Baumgarten, nominally called
the founder of modem aesthetics. He shows how Baumgarten
and the subsequent writers linked art with beauty, and he
summarizes enough of the definitions of beauty set forth
by these men to make it obvious that their definitions tend
toward confusion.
It would be pointless to trace the manner in which
Tolstoy has presented his summary of these definitions of
beauty. His purpose was to show that they contradict one
another and that beauty as an absolute quality is inde
finable. If the concept of beauty is a relative thing, and
Tolstoy's summary of notable definitions of beauty indi
cates that it is, then it is illogical for thinkers to base
their definitions of art on such a thing as beauty.
In carrying his disquisition further, Tolstoy notes
that the definitions of beauty seem to be based upon what
the individual writer has found in art which affords him
pleasure. In the last analysis, then, a definition of art
which is based on beauty is really based on pleasure.
Tolstoy shows how the writers on aesthetics have themselves
tended to equate beauty with pleasure as their definitions
14
of beauty have evolved. Tolstoy concludes his sumnary of
the history of modern aesthetics with Sully*s definition
of art.
Thus Sully In his Sensation and Intuition: Studies in
psychology and Aesthetics (1884) dismisses the conception
of beauty altogether; art, by his definition, being the
production of some permanent object or passing action
fitted to supply active enjoyment to the producer, and
a pleasureable impression to a number of spectators or
listeners, quite apart from any personal advantage
derived from it. (What is Art?, pp. 36-37)
Tolstoy is, however, even less willing to associate
pleasure than beauty with the purpose of art. He points
out that if the pleasure of eating is associated with the
idea of food, the essential purpose of food— to nourish the
body--is missed. While this analogy may not seem logical
to every reader, it is to Tolstoy in his frame of refer
ence, and it is certainly effective enough to give every
reader occasion to reflect. Tolstoy continues his argument
by saying that in order to define art correctly it is
necessary to dismiss the idea that it is a means toward
pleasure and to consider it rather as a condition of human
life. More specifically, he says, ”. . .we cannot fail
to observe that art is one of the means of intercourse
between man and man" (p. 47). Just as speech is the means
whereby one man is able to convey his ideas to another man,
15
art Is the medium through which one man conveys his emo
tions to another.
To evoke in oneself a feeling one has once experienced,
and having evoked it in oneself, then, by means of move
ments, lines, colours, sounds, or forms expressed in
words, so to transmit that feeling that others may ex
perience the same feeling— this is the activity of art.
Art is a human activity, consisting in this, that one
man consciously, by means of certain external signs,
hands on to others feelings he has lived through, and
that other people are infected by these feelings and also
experience them. (P. 50)
Amplifying this definition, Tolstoy readily admits
that this transmission of emotion includes much more than
the activity that is usually considered as art. He notes
that we only consider certain forms of this transmission
when we talk about art.
We are accustomed to understand art to be only what
we hear and see in theatres, concerts, and exhibitions;
together with buildings, statues, poems, novels. . . .
But all this is but the smallest part of the art by
which we communicate with each other in life. All human
life is filled with works of art of every kind— from
cradle-song, jest, mimicry, the ornamentation of houses,
dress and utensils, up to church services, buildings,
monuments and triumphal processions. It is all artistic
activity. So that by art, in the limited sense of the
word, we do not mean all human activity transmitting
feelings, but only that part which we for some reason
select from it and to which we attach special importance.
(P. 51)
That part of this natural human activity to which
special importance is attached is the part which expresses
16
the deepest and the highest religious feelings of the
times. This is art, and this, Tolstoy insists, is what the
classical philosophers, Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle
considered as art. These philosophers traced their art to
its source, the religious rituals of their forefathers.
Tolstoy's ideas are not far removed from theirs when he
considered art inseparable from the highest religious and
philosophical insights of the culture.
Tolstoy's Historical Argument Supporting
his Definition of Art
To Tolstoy the process of art is a natural human
activity whereby one man consciously through external sym
bols conveys to others those emotions which he himself has
felt deeply. Only a part of this natural human activity--
that part which conveys emotions steaming from the highest
religious perception of the culture involved--is, according
to Tolstoy, what mankind chooses to call art. This defini
tion is somewhat startling, and at the time What is Art?
was first published, it was quite unique. Tolstoy points
out, though, that he is not as far from Plato and Aristotle
as are the other aesthetic theorists of the nineteenth
century.
17
The last thing Tolstoy would ask of his reader, how
ever, is that he should credit the author of What is Art?
with the distinction of being an innovator or the spokesman
of a new idea or aesthetic theory. Rather, he introduces
history to support his contention that art has always been
just what he has defined it to be. Tolstoy arrived at his
definition of art through his personal observations of art
and history. The primary means he uses to justify and
substantiate his observations is, accordingly, a historical
argument. Essentially, he asserts that all cultures from
the ancient Greek to the Chinese have held that art should
reflect the highest religious insights of the culture. He
hopes to show that Europe during the Renaissance departed
from this design because of a confusion in basic values.
And, finally, Tolstoy reiterates that a return to this con
cept as a basis for the subject matter of art is necessary
to revitalize contemporary art and re-channel it into forms
which will be worthwhile and purposeful for the whole of
society.
In view of the place that classical Greek drama occu
pied in the religious ceremonies of the Athenians, it is
easy to agree with Tolstoy that dramatic art, and to
18
an extent all forms of poetry, did at one time reflect the
highest religious insights of the people. As the Russian
master tries to trace this design through the history of
Western civilization, he next turns to the Christian era.
In discussing the art of the early Christians, Tolstoy
says,
The Christianity of the first centuries recognized
as productions of good art, only legends, lives of
saints, sermons, prayers and hymn-singing, evoking love
of Christ, emotion at his life, desire to follow his
example, renunciation of worldly life, humility, and the
love of others; all productions transmitting feelings of
personal enjoyment they considered to be bad, and there
fore rejected; for instance, tolerating plastic repre
sentations only when they were symbolical, they rejected
all the pagan sculptures. (P. 55)
As will be shown later, this description of first
century art is not far removed from what Tolstoy felt nine
teenth century art should be. What he says in this de
scription may be true of the Christian art of the first
century. But is his historical argument valid? He is not
so specific as to refer to individual works to support his
argument, and he leaves a discussion of pagan Latin art and
literature completely out of his discourse. From what
Tolstoy says later in his book, it is likely that he would
deny that much of Latin literature was true art. Whether
or not Latin art, such as Virgil's Aeneid or the offerings
19
of the Silver Age Latin lyricists can be conceived of in
terms of the highest religious perceptions of their times
is a question that could better be answered after this
paper has run its course, i.e., after other secular works
have been examined in the light of Tolstoy's premises.
One of the primary purposes of this investigation, it will
be remembered, is to see if Tolstoy's aesthetic principles
have any value when applied to work outside the scope of
what he considered art.
Tolstoy continues his argument historically, saying
that as Christianity began to spread through the Roman
world, the cultural influences of the various groups in
corporated into the Christian movement made themselves
felt. Statues of the saints and of the Virgin Mary became
part of Church art. The feeling of the immediate relation
ship of each man to God, the Father, and the consequent
equality and brotherhood of all men was lost in later
Church art. This art which persisted into the Middle Ages
was, according to Tolstoy, still true art because it ex
pressed the highest religious perceptions of its time, even
though these perceptions were not as worthy as those of the
previous age.
20
As the Middle Ages came to a close, contact with the
Middle East and a rediscovery o£ the art and ideas of the
classical ages produced a change among the better educated
men in the European countries. They readily perceived
incongruities between early Christianity and the Chris-
tianity expressed by the contemporary Church and its art.
Instead of returning to the basic Christian teachings, this
small percentage, the upper classes in Europe, rejected the
Church and its art and developed an art of their own. For
this they went back to the teachings of the classicists.
From the time that people of the upper classes lost
faith in Church Christianity, beauty (i.e. the pleasure
received from art) became their standard of good and bad
art. And, in accordance with that view, an aesthetic
theory naturally sprang up among the upper classes justi
fying such a conception--a theory according to which the
aim of art is to exhibit beauty. . . .
That highest perfection of goodness (not only not
identical with beauty, but, for the most part, contrast
ing with it) which was discerned by the Jews even in the
times of Isaiah, and fully expressed by Christianity, was
quite unknown to the Greeks. They supposed that the
beautiful must necessarily also be the good. It is true
that their foremost thinkers--Socrates, Plato, Aris-
totle--felt that goodness may happen not to coincide
with beauty. Socrates expressly subordinated beauty to
goodness; Plato, to unite the two conceptions, spoke of
spiritual beauty; while Aristotle demanded from art that
it should have a moral influence on people. . . .
Evidently the Greek sages began to draw near to that
perception of goodness which is expressed in Buddhism and
in Christianity, and they got entangled in defining the
relation between goodness and beauty. Plato's reasonings
about beauty and goodness are full of contradictions.
21
And It was just this confusion of Ideas that those
Europeans of a later age, who had lost all faith, tried
to elevate into a law. They tried to prove that this
union of beauty and goodness is inherent in the very
essence of things; that beauty and goodness must coin**
cide. . . . (Pp. 61-62)
Tolstoy contends that this concept, that beauty and
goodness must coincide, represents the highest ideal of the
ancient Greek culture, but that it has no meaning in the
terms of the European culture that twisted Plato's argu
ments to set up a new standard of aesthetics based on the
principles of beauty and pleasure.
Tolstoy prefers to call this new art "genteel art"
separating it from the art of the people. He then proceeds
to belittle any distinction that can be accorded to "gen
teel art" by arguing that it lacks universality in the
sense that it does not have the qualities which will appeal
to all men. Two-thirds of the people of the earth, all the
inhabitants of Asia and Africa, live and die without ever
being aware that this "genteel art" even exists. Ninety
per cent of the people in the European countries cannot
understand this art although their subjection to economic
slavery is one of the conditions that makes it possible.
22
The Status of Contemporary Art
Tolstoy expresses a great deal of displeasure with
contemporary art which he calls "genteel art." This dis
pleasure must have been the incentive which stirred him to
analyze his own convictions about aesthetics and prompted
him to write What is Art? He felt that genteel art, based
on the premise that beauty is the ultimate criterion, con
veys a false sense of values.
As genteel art can only be comprehended by a small
percentage of mankind, its cultivation by the upper class
helps to set them apart from the rest of mankind. Thus,
genteel art promotes class consciousness and separates man
kind by means of artificial barriers. This is the very
opposite of what Tolstoy felt art should do--unify mankind
by appealing to those emotions which by their universality
promote a contnon bond between man and man.
Tolstoy devotes a chapter to showing what detrimental
effects genteel art has had on society by putting a premium
on false values. The tenor of his arguments can be exem
plified as he asks how one can explain to a simple peasant
who sees a statue of Pushkin that this man, thus glorified,
was not a saint or even a great general or political figure,
23
but simply a man who wrote love poetry, lived a not-too-
commendable life, and was killed in a duel?
The great Russian novelist turns to poetic simile in
an effort to characterize his concept of art as the natural
vehicle for expression of man's highest feelings. He
begins by describing a gentle woman who loves a man so that
she may bear children and raise a family. Then he counter
poses another picture--this time of a painted lady who
makes use of love to achieve material gain. This contrast,
Tolstoy concludes didactically, is similar to the contrast
between the art he preaches, proceeding naturally from deep
human and religious experience, and genteel art, evoking
unwholesome emotions for selfish purposes.
In What is Art? contemporary art is condemned because
it expresses emotions unworthy of mankind rather than con
centrating on those emotions which are wholesome and up
lifting to the people who witness it. Tolstoy deplores the
fact that contemporary art tends to divide rather than
unite mankind. And finally, he criticizes contemporary art
for being counterfeit rather than genuine. Each of these
three points will be developed in further detail when
the cardinal points of literary criticism derived from
24
Tolstoy's essay are presented.
Tolstoy is more concrete when he departs from his
criticism of the subject matter of contemporary art and
turns his attention to the methods used to express con
temporary art, or as he now calls it, "counterfeit art."
While he speaks of art in general terms, his specific
examples are almost all drawn from literature. It is per
haps noteworthy that when he chooses art to debunk, it is
always European rather than Russian. He devotes a long
chapter to a discussion of the poetical works of Baudelaire,
Mallarme, Verlaine, and Maeterlinck. Although he makes
some objection to the decadent quality of their material,
his main objection is to their obscurity of presentation.
Tolstoy's contention is, of course, that the purpose of the
creative artist is to convey emotions that he has felt in
such a way that those who witness his work will experience
these emotions. The burden of communication is on the
artist. Consequently, one of the obligations of the artist
is to put his material in such a form that it will be
immediately comprehensible to all men. The symbolists,
as Tolstoy points out, sought to make their poetry incom
prehensible to the majority of their fellow men.
25
Tolstoy quotes the poets mentioned above at consider
able length. Present-day scholars, who readily accept the
fact that the symbolists sought to withdraw from society
into a world of their own, may feel that Tolstoy is belabor
ing his point. But it is interesting to note that these
poets were not well-known in France at the time What is
Art? was published. One French reviewer of Tolstoy’s book
expressed surprise that Tolstoy should discuss these par
ticular French poets when he, the reviewer, was not
acquainted with all of them himself. F. W. J. Hemmings
in The Russian Novel in France offers a more striking
example of this same contradiction:
For French readers the most unfortunate part of
Tolstoy's polemics was the crusade he undertook against
certain notabilities or notorieties in French litera
ture. Anyone who tries to assess the general drift of
affairs among his contemporaries is liable to fall into
serious blunders: and for one who, like Tolstoy, judges
from afar, the risks are even bigger. But the picture
of Tolstoy as a benighted barbarian is most inaccurate,
and when Faguet calls him a 'solitary dreamer, absolutely
out of touch with the literary and artistic movement,
receiving only distant and intermittent echoes of it,*
it is Faguet,* not Tolstoy, who is the dreamer. The
poets from whose writings Tolstoy quotes are those whom
even to-day we should regard as most representative of
that generation: Baudelaire, Verlaine, Mallarme.
(Hemmings, p. 183)
(Oxford, 1950), p. 183. This quotation was taken
from Hemmings' description of £mile Faguet's critical
attack on What is Art?
26
Since the symbolists, and more particularly the
decadents, wrote primarily for themselves, their subtle
delineations of emotions were predominantly for readers as
sensitive as themselves. Accordingly, Tolstoy classified
their treatment of subject matter as a methodology that
tended to separate the artist and art consumer from common
humanity. This end result is diametrically opposed to what
Tolstoy considered the very basis of art.
Mark this above all: if only it be admitted that art
may be art and yet be unintelligible to anyone of sound
mind, there is no reason why any circle of perverted
people should not compose works tickling their own per
verted feelings and comprehensible to no one but them
selves, and call it "art," as is actually being done by
the so-called Decadents.
The direction art has taken may be compared to placing
on a large circle other circles, smaller and smaller,
until a cone is formed, the top of which is no longer a
circle at all. That is what has happened to the art of
our time. (Pp. 105-106)
In attacking contemporary art, Tolstoy had unkind
words to say about art critics, art movements or schools of
art (such as the Romantic Movement), and the economic
forces which influenced the production and consumption of
art. The emphasis of his critical attack was directed
toward the symbolists and decadents because they repre
sented the extreme manifestations of all that he considered
27
misdirected in contemporary, as he called it, counterfeit
art. The subject matter of art was becoming more perverted
and unwholesome. Subject matter and forms of presentation
were being consciously selected for their appeal to a
single class, thus excluding art from the majority of
people in Europe and Russia.
Only the evils produced by economic demands on art
were not exemplified by the artistic production of the sym
bolists. Economic demands stimulated the quantity of pro
duction. As the demand for quantity increased, the quality
of artistic production was diluted. Imitation and other
techniques of production were used to create counterfeit
art. This section has reviewed what Tolstoy felt the
status of art to be at the time his essay What is Art? was
conceived. Its purpose has been to present a background
against which his positive observations on art may be con
trasted. We have seen what he attacks; next let us examine
three dominant ideas which evolve from What is Art?
Dominant Ideas in What is Art?
Art as a Purposeful Human Activity
Orienting his essay around his definition of art and
the purpose of art, Tolstoy, on one hand, attacked all that
28
he felt was unworthy in contemporary art, and, on the other
hand, presented an aesthetic theory of his own. While the
ideas he presents are closely interwoven and the arguments
supporting each of his major ideas necessarily supplement
each other in holding up the whole structure of his aes
thetic theory, for the purposes of this paper three of his
cardinal ideas will be presented separately:
1. Art is a purposeful human activity. As such it
must contribute substantially to the human race. In other
words art must have a worthwhile purpose.
2. Art is a natural human activity. As such it
should be for all men. The value of art is in part deter
mined by how successfully it can reach all of mankind.
3. Genuine art, the natural human activity Tolstoy
has defined above, is incompatible with contemporary art.
He labels the latter "counterfeit art." The character
istics of the one may be profitably compared with the
other.
Tolstoy definitely felt that art should have a pur
pose. It is in qualifying the types of emotion to be ex
pressed by genuine art that Tolstoy indicates the direction
this purpose will take. The emotions expressed through art
29
should be of such a nature that they can be appreciated by
all people. Certain emotional experiences are universal
in the sense that they will affect all men. These are the
feelings that flow from the deepest religious perception of
the times. To Tolstoy the religious precepts of the
Fatherhood of God and the subsequent brotherhood of all
men, as expressed through the teachings of the New Testa
ment, are the cardinal examples of deepest religious per
ception for a man living in a Christian nation in the nine
teenth century. In our times, then, art must necessarily
produce those emotions which unite men with one another in
Christian brotherhood.
Tolstoy carries this idea even further, asserting that
one characteristic of all art is that it unites people.
The moral purpose of art, then, is to unite man with man.
With this purpose in mind, experiences eliciting a second
type of feeling may produce genuine art. A work of art may
evoke feelings common to every individual. These feelings,
by their own nature, tend to unite all men with a feeling
of brotherhood. Tolstoy eloquently states:
And the action of these two kinds of art, apparently
so dissimilar, is one and the same. The feelings flow
ing from perception of our sonship to God and of the
brotherhood of man--such as a feeling of sureness in
truth, devotion to the will of God, self-sacrifice,
30
respect for and love of man--evoked by Christian reli
gious perception; and the simplest feelings— such as a
softened or a merry mood caused by a song or an amusing
jest or a little doll: both alike produce one and the
same effect, the loving union of man with man. Some
times people who are together are, if not hostile to one
another, at least estranged in mood and feeling till per
chance a story, a performance, a picture, or even a build
lng, but most often of all music, unites them all as by
an electric flash, and in place of their former isolation
or even enmity they are all conscious of union and mutual
love. Each is glad that another feels what he feels;
glad of the comnunion established, not only between him
and all present, but also with all now living who will
yet share the same impression; and more than that, he
feels the mysterious gladness of a communion which,
reaching beyond the grave, unites us with all men of the
past who have been moved by the same feelings, and with
all men of the future who will yet be touched by them.
And this effect is produced both by the religious art
which transmits feelings of love to God and one’s neigh
bor and by universal art transmitting the very simplest
feelings common to all men. (Pp. 164-165)
Tolstoy examines many works generally considered to be
art. He denounces the majority of these, including his own
great masterpieces, because they do not fulfill what he
conceives to be the purpose of art--the obligation to pro
duce emotional responses which will unite man with man.
It is significant to note some of the works which Tolstoy
felt achieved the goals that he demanded for art. In the
field of literature he chose these:
If I were asked to give modem examples of each of
these kinds of art, then, as examples of the highest art
flowing from love of God and man (both of the higher,
positive, and of the lower, negative kind), in literature
31
I should name The Robbers by Schiller; Victor Hugo's
Les Pauvres Gens and Les Miserables: the novels and
stories of Dickens, The Tale of Two Cities. The Christ
mas Carol, The Chimes and others; Uncle Tom's Cabin;
Dostoevsky's works, especially his Memoirs from the House
of Death; and Adam Bede by George Eliot. . . .
To give examples from the modem art of our upper
classes of art of the second kind, good universal art or
even of the art of a whole people, is yet more difficult,
especially in literary art and music. If there are some
works which by their inner contents might be assigned to
this class (such as Don Quixote. Molifere's comedies,
David Copperfield and The Pickwick Papers by Dickens,
Gogol's and Pushkin's tales, and some things of Mau
passant's), these works are for the most part--from the
exceptional nature of the feelings they transmit, the
superfluity of special details of time and locality, and,
above all, on account of the poverty of their subject
matter in comparison with examples of universal ancient
art (such, for instance, as the story of Joseph)--com
prehensible only to people of their own circle.
(Pp. 166-167)
Tolstoy explains at length that the story of Joseph
transcends national and cultural limitations. The jealousy
of his brothers over the love bestowed upon him by his
father and his intense inner conflict when he is confronted
by Potiphar's wife are examples of emotional struggles that
every man, Chinese or Turk, Christian or Moslem, can under
stand and share. This is what Tolstoy means when he uses
the word "universal" to describe a work of art. The
Russian master goes on to point out that the Bible story
need not be told in detail because the emotions conveyed
by the story are so genuine and comprehensible. Lesser art
32
would need more detail and polish to captivate the readerfs
attention.
Art for All Men
Art should be worthy of man rather than man worthy of
art. Tolstoy's definition of art emphasizes the fact that
art Is a natural human activity. He states that In optimum
form, It expresses the highest religious perception of the
culture. The highest religious perception which has come
down to the nineteenth century, according to Tolstoy, is
to be found in the Gospel of John where each man's rela-
tionship to God is that of an erring son to a loving
Father. The necessary corollary to this relationship is
the brotherhood of each man with all of his Father's sons.
Thus, art must express the brotherhood of man. It must
produce emotions which unite all men.
With this emphasis on the brotherhood and the unity of
all men, it is not strange that Tolstoy should emphasize
that art should be for everyone rather than just for the
upper classes. This can only be accomplished if two things
are achieved. First, art must be put in a form compre
hensible to all men on an intellectual level. Second,
subject matter of art must be such that it is vital enough
33
to evoke the emotions of all men.
Taking the latter problem first, art must concern it
self with problems which are real to the common man if it
is to interest the broad scope of humanity. Contemporary
or genteel art does not concern itself with these problems.
Taking issue with current literary criticism, Tolstoy
argues that genteel art has a paucity of wholesome, essen
tial content.
. . . for the range of feelings experienced by the
powerful and the rich, who have no experience of labour
for the support of life, is far poorer, more limited,
and more insignificant than the range of feelings natural
to working people. (P. 75)
Tolstoy's contention that the rich man is really
poorer in experience than the laborer who struggles long
hours for a scant livelihood is certainly open to dispute.
His subsequent observations on how the subject matter of
genteel art has distorted the nineteenth century literature
are more astute and disturbing. He contends that the sub
ject matter of genteel art develops around three emotions:
pride, sexual desire, and discontent with life. The
literary output of the whole Romantic Movement can well be
used to justify this contention. The feeling of pride
tends to segregate men, denying their essential brotherhood,
34
while sexual desire and discontent with life are hardly the
most worthy subjects for great art.
On the other hand, the life and struggles of the work
ing classes afford a multitude of new possibilities for
good art.
The life of a labouring man, with its endlessly varied
forms of labour, and the dangers connected with this
labour on sea and underground; his migrations; the inter
course with his employers, overseers, and companions and
with men of other religions and other nationalities; his
struggles with nature and with wild beasts, the associ
ations with domestic animals, the work in the forest, on
the steppe, in the field, the garden, the orchard; his
intercourse with wife and children, not only as with
people near and dear to him, but as with co-workers and
helpers in labour, replacing him in time of need; his
concern in all economic questions, not as matters of
display or discussion, but as problems of life for him
self and his family. . . . (Pp. 75-76)
This quotation includes only about half of a long list
of suggestions that Tolstoy puts forward showing that the
life of the common man is a fruitful subject for art.
Tolstoy’s contention, then, is that the most appropriate
subject matter of art should be the emotional experiences
of those who are forced to work and struggle for their
survival.
If Tolstoy had confined himself to changing the emo
tional subject matter of art in his campaign to make art of
vital concern for all men, he would have had many adherents
35
and few antagonists. The problem of making art compre
hensible to all men was the next logical problem. Tolstoy
does not say that the comnon man is more sensitive or
perceptive than a man in the genteel classes, but he
definitely feels that the former has an instinctive ability
to recognize the genuine and worthwhile that the overly
cultivated man lacks. While he condemned much of con
temporary art for its obscurity of presentation and vague
ness of meaning, he did not handle the problem of compre
hension by giving technical advice.
Returning to his basic definitions, Tolstoy asserts
that art is human activity which expresses emotions stem
ming from deep religious perception or from basic human
experiences common to all men. All men will instinctively
recognize this art. The problem is not to simplify or tone
down genteel art to a point where the masses can understand
it. Rather the problem is to turn away completely from
genteel art and the perverted patterns of criticism and
affected sophistication which perpetuate it.
Genuine art is natural and it infects men with its
emotions. Tolstoy consciously uses the word "infect”
rather than "affect." Just as in a group laughter may have
36
an infectious quality, or just as the mood of a group or
setting may infect an individual, art will infect the
spectat#r with the emotion it is meant to convey.
Art which produces warm, infectious, human emotions
can be universally understood across national boundaries,
across educational and class boundaries, and even across
pseudo-cultural barriers. True art, Tolstoy says, can be
recognized by all except those men and women who have been
perverted by genteel art.
The logical reaction of a literary critic to Tolstoy’s
argument is that the uneducated peasantry could scarcely
comprehend, much less appreciate, the feelings produced by
a refined work of art such as a Wagnerian opera. Tolstoy's
response to this criticism is that if a man is required to
train himself, habituate himself, or hypnotize himself in
order to understand a certain production, that production
is not art.
People say, "You cannot judge without having seen
Wagner performed at Bayreuth: in the dark, where the
orchestra is out of sight concealed under the stage, and
where the performance is brought to the highest perfec
tion." And this just proves that we have here no ques
tion of art, but one of hypnotism. . . .
. . . Only place yourself in such conditions and you
may see what you will. But this can be still more
quickly attained by getting drunk or smoking opium.
37
It is the same when listening to an opera of Wagner's.
Sit in the dark for four days in company with people who
are not quite normal, and through the auditory nerves
subject your brain to the strongest action of the sounds
best adapted to excite it, and you will no doubt be
reduced to an abnormal condition and be enchanted by
absurdities. But to attain this end you do not even need
four days; the five hours during which one "day" is
enacted, as in Moscow, are quite enough. Nor are five
hours needed; even one hour is enough for people who have
no clear conception of what art should be, and who have
come to the conclusion in advance that what they are
going to see is excellent and that indifference or dis
satisfaction with this work will serve as a proof of
their inferiority and lack of culture. (What is Art?,
p. 149)
After this attack on people who deceive themselves
into appreciating Wagner, Tolstoy confesses that he himself
has on occasion been influenced in a similar manner by per
formances of Beethoven's work. But it is his interest in
music that has held him, not the capacity of the music to
infect him. He illustrates this from a personal experi
ence. After witnessing a performance of Beethoven, many of
the guests, Tolstoy tells us, voiced ridiculous banalities
about the development of the composer's works. Disturbed
by their superficial and affected reactions to the per
formance, Tolstoy mentally compared the feelings aroused
in him by this performance, Beethoven’s opus 101, with the
overflow of feeling that had infected him shortly before,
when he heard a peasant woman singing a simple folk song.
38
The latter to Tolstoy was true art! The quality of emo
tional response was to him the only true measure of genuine
art.
The author of War and Peace stated on several occa
sions that art critics are a breed of men who are rela
tively immune to the infectiousness of true art. All men
who are exposed for long periods of time to genteel art
habituate themselves to counterfeit productions. They con
fuse the counterfeit with the genuine, and at the same time
they lose their natural capacity to be infected by genuine
art. He asks, then, how true art may be recognized.
For a country peasant of unperverted taste this is
as easy as it is for an animal of unspoiled scent to
follow the trace he needs among a thousand others in wood
or forest. The animal unerringly finds what it needs.
So also the man, if only his natural qualities have not
been perverted, will without fail select from among
thousands of objects the real work of art he requires--
that which infects him with the feelings experienced by
the artist. But it is not so with those whose taste has
been perverted by their education and life. The recep
tive feeling for art of these people is atrophied, and
in valuing artistic productions they must be guided by
discussion and study, which discussion and study com
pletely confuse them. So that most people in our society
are quite unable to distinguish a work of art from the
grossest counterfeit. People sit for whole hours in
concert rooms and theatres listening to the new com
posers, consider it a duty to read the novels of the
famous modem novelists and to look at pictures repre
senting either something incomprehensible or just the
very thing they see much better in real life; and, above
all, they consider it incumbent on them to be enraptured
39
by all this, Imagining it all to be art, while at the
same time they will pass real works of art by, not only
without attention, but even with contempt, merely because
in their circle these works are not included in the list
of works of art. (P. 145)
The Qualities of Genuine and Counterfeit Art
In contrasting counterfeit art with genuine art
according to his own definition, Tolstoy has characterized
both the former and the latter. The various aspects of
each offer fruitful material for compiling a pattern of
literary criticism. Tolstoy is very specific when he
analyses counterfeit art. Breaking counterfeit art down
into its component parts, he finds that it is characterized
by four methods of production: borrowing, imitating, de
velopment of striking effects, and use of material which
is interesting rather than artistic. These techniques,
while they interest, intrigue, or amuse genteel people, do
not truly transmit to the spectator genuine emotions that
the artist has himself experienced.
In the case of borrowing--the first method of counter
feit art--the artist merely restates or reproduces in his
own way an emotional effect he has observed in art. This
produces a feeling similar to art because his audience con
fuses what it observes with the artistic feelings formerly
40
experienced from the original work of art. Tolstoy con
tends that while borrowing produces entertainment, it leads
the artist away from his responsibility to produce art
original to himself.
The second method of producing counterfeit art is that
of imitation. In the sense that Tolstoy uses this word,
imitation means reproducing the exact picture, the exact
dialogue, or the exact description of the "real" world.
This, he claims, is not art. The artist must select and
balance the details he has at his conmand, not to create an
exact picture of an event or experience, but to evoke in
his audience the emotion which he himself has felt. Thus,
imitation is merely exact reproduction. It is not artistic
creation for the conveyance of emotion--the real task of
the artist.
To value a work of art by the degree of its realism,
by the accuracy of the details reproduced, is as strange
as to judge of the nutritive quality of food by its
external appearance. When we appraise a work according
to its realism, we only show that we are talking, not of
a work of art, but of its counterfeit. (P. Ill)
Tolstoy is most out of sympathy with the third tech
nique of counterfeit art--that of producing striking
effects. In analysing these effects he says,
41
. . . In all arts these effects consist chiefly in
contrasts; in bringing together the terrible and the
tender, the beautiful and the hideous, the loud and the
soft, darkness and light, the most ordinary and the most
extraordinary. In verbal art, besides effects of con
trast, there are also effects consisting in the descrip
tion of things that have never before been described.
These are usually pornographic details evoking sexual
desire, or details of suffering and death evoking feel
ings of horror, as, for instance, when describing a
murder, to give a detailed medical account of the lacer
ated tissues, of the swellings, of the smell, quantity
and appearance of the blood. . . . In the drama, the most
common effects, besides contrasts, are tempests, thunder,
moonlight, scenes at sea or by the seashore, changes of
costume, exposure of the female body, madness, murders,
and death generally; the dying person exhibiting in
detail all the phases of agony. (P. 114)
What Tolstoy is decrying here is, in a word, sensa
tionalism. No thoughtful person is likely to disagree with
the Russian master when he says that sensationalism must
not be confused with art. He found the exploitation of sex
is this way particularly objectionable. On this point,
present day critics, when looking at the worst that is cur
rently produced in the name of art and entertainment, must
again warmly agree. Elements of the effects mentioned
above are found, however, in works normally called art.
Tempests, murder, and madness are the building blocks of
Shakespeare's Macbeth. Detailed descriptions of the pro
longed agony of death are found in Roger Martin du Gard's
The Thibaults and Tolstoy's own The Death of Ivan Ilyich.
42
Tolstoy would have denied that The Thibaults was an example
of good art, and he did renounce The Death of Ivan Ilyich
and label Macbeth, along with the rest of Shakespeare1s
tragedies, as counterfeit art. Most literary critics would
not deny that these three works are art although they would
admit that elements of sensationalism are present. Whether
or not sensational elements add to or detract from the
artistic perfection of a work is a question well worth
asking. While it is possible to disagree with the answer
which Tolstoy, as an old man, makes to this question, it
cannot be denied that the critical examination of a work of
art with this question in mind is worthwhile.
The fourth technique of counterfeit art also draws a
fine line between what Tolstoy calls art and what the
ordinary critic would applaud as a part of an artistic
work.
The fourth method is that of interesting (that is,
absorbing the mind) in connection with works of art.
The interest may lie in an intricate plot--a method till
quite recently much employed in English novels and French
plays, but now going out of fashion and being replaced
by authenticity, i.e. by detailed descriptions of some
historical period or some branch of contemporary life.
For example, in a novel, interestingness may consist in
a description of Egyptian or Roman life, the life of
miners, or that of the clerks in a large shop. The
reader becomes interested and mistakes this interest for
an artistic impression. (P. 110)
43
Tolstoy also states that Interest may depend upon the
method of expression. With the work of the French sym
bolists in mind, he says that counterfeit art may be pre
sented in such a form that its meaning must be guessed at
like a riddle. This process of solving the riddle affords
amusement to many who mistake this feeling for that of the
impact of real art.
While a counterfeit work of art that is interesting
may be easily confounded with true art, this quality of
interestingness is, according to Tolstoy, a deterrent to
really effective, genuine art. As art must infect people
with the experiences felt by the artist, a multitude of
interesting but irrelevant detail, or a method of exposi
tion which requires one to solve a series of riddles must
necessarily distract the spectator, listener, or reader,
and make it more difficult for him to be infected by the
work of art.
In summary, then, Tolstoy, reasoning from his basic
definition that art is the conveyance of an emotion felt by
the artist to the one appreciating his art, has delineated
four methods or qualities which are frequently manifested
in contemporary attempts at art, but which are actually
44
detrimental to genuine art. These methods are (1) borrow
ing something that has previously appeared in an art form,
(2) imitation of the exact form that appears in real life,
(3) use of sensational or striking effects, and (4) use of
material which interests the observer but does not really
infect him with the artistic response desired by the
artist.
In contrast to this the dominant qualities in what
Tolstoy considers good art must be examined. The purpose
of art is to infect the receiver with the emotion felt by
the artist. Consequently, he says, the intensity of this
infection is the sole measure of the excellence of art.
The stronger the infection the better is the art,
as art, speaking now apart from its subject-matter, i.e.
not considering the quality of the feelings it transmits.
And the degree of the infectiousness of art depends
on three conditions:—
(1) On the greater or lesser individuality of the
feeling transmitted; (2) on the greater or lesser clear
ness with which the feeling is transmitted; (3) on the
sincerity of the artist, i.e. the greater or lesser force
with which the artist himself feels the emotion he trans
mits. (P. 153)
The more individual the feeling transmitted the more
strongly does it act on the receiver; the more individual
the state of the soul into which he is transferred the
more pleasure does the receiver obtain, and therefore
the more readily and strongly does he join in it.
(Pp. 153-154)
45
The more individual the emotion, the more it infects
the receiver.** The more clearly the emotion is expressed,
the more intimate is the bridge between the artist and the
receiver as they experience the same emotion. And, finally,
the sincerity of the artist is the most important factor in
connunicating this infectiousness of emotion essential to
art. When the spectator of a work of art senses that he
shares an emotion with the artist, the degree of infectious
Tolstoy does not amplify his statement that the more
individual the feeling transmitted, the more strongly it
will affect the receiver. At first glance this seems to
be a statement that can be accepted uncritically. But on
closer examination, Tolstoy is not talking about individu
ality in a work of art or in the object which inspires the
artist, but about individuality in the particular emotion
expressed. Is it logical to accept a correlation here
between the individuality of the author's feeling and the
strength of the receiver's impression? Robin G. Colling-
wood, in "Expression in Art," says, "Expression, on the
contrary, individualizes. The anger which I feel here and
now, with a certain person, for a certain cause, is no
doubt an instance much more than mere anger: it is a
peculiar anger, not quite like any anger I shall ever feel
again. To become fully conscious of it means becoming
conscious of all its peculiarities; fully expressing it
means expressing all its peculiarities. The poet, there
fore, in proportion as he understands his business, gets
as far away as possible from merely labelling his emotions
as instances of this or that general kind, and takes
enormou8 pains to individualize them by expressing them
in terms which reveal their differences from any other
emotion of the same sort" (Morris Weitz, ed., Problems in
Aesthetics [New York, 1959], p. 189).
46
emotion he will feel will be conditioned by the depth of
the artist’s feeling. Tolstoy carried the quality of
sincerity even further. If the artist is sincere, the
emotion conveyed by his art will be individualized in pro*
portion to the depth of his sincerity. Likewise, his
sincerity will impel him to express himself clearly. Apart
from the judgment of the subject matter, it is the degree
of infectiousness that is the measure of artistic quality,
and in turn the intensity of this infectiousness is deter*
mined by the sincerity of the artist.
If one is to use Tolstoy's characterizations of
counterfeit art and genuine art as a basis for literary
criticism, a problem becomes immediately apparent.
Tolstoy's critical attack on counterfeit art is much the
longer of the two statements, and yet it is the more
pointed and specific. His discussion of genuine art lacks
specific illustrations. The general qualities Tolstoy
advances--individuality, clarity, and sincerity--seem
organically Interwoven. It is, therefore, more difficult
to categorize them for the purposes of literary analysis.
While Tolstoy's analysis of counterfeit art is nega
tive in approach, his observations can be used in a posi
tive way in examining a particular work of art. In this
47
paper an attempt will be made to discern in the specific
works investigated those elements which Tolstoy has pre
sented as counterfeit qualities. Then these elements will
be analysed in relation to the work as a whole to see if
they are extraneous or an integral part of the artistic
whole. In this way the individual novel will be treated
concretely while the validity of Tolstoy's contrast of
counterfeit and genuine art will be demonstrated at the
same time.
Searching for the positive qualities of genuine art in
a specific novel will be a happier task than exploring the
aspects of counterfeit art. Such artistic qualities as
sincerity and individuality are, however, hard to prove by
documentation. Even clarity is a value judgment. Whether
or not a specific work measures up to Tolstoy's standard
for genuine art is a problem of organic complexity. If the
spectator experiences an emotion from a work purporting to
be a work of art, an analysis of that emotion may be made
from several standpoints. These standpoints include the
quality of infectiousness in the sense that laughter may be
infectious in a group of people or rage in a mob; the
clarity with which the emotion is felt by the spectator;
48
the individuality or uniqueness of the emotion (this
quality must be contrasted with the counterfeit device of
sensationalism); and, finally, the sincerity of the artist
who feels impelled to share with his fellow men an emotion
he has experienced.
The Specific Task of This Paper
Tolstoy wrote of art in general in What is Art?, and
thus far the subject has been presented in the same general
terms. It was in the field of literature and more par
ticularly in the genre of the novel, however, that Tolstoy
was the supreme artist. In this paper, therefore, the
novel will be the object examined in the focus of lenses
ground to the specifications of Tolstoy's critical literary
precepts.
In the selection of novels to be studied, a conscious
effort has been made to select at least two works that
Tolstoy specifically categorized outside the realm of
genuine art, his own Anna Karenina and Zola's Germinal.
On the other hand, Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn was chosen
with the feeling that Tolstoy would have applauded at least
parts of it as genuine art. These three masterpieces of
49
the nineteenth century should offer material for a fair
appraisal of Tolstoy’s aesthetic theory.
From this examination of Tolstoy’s essay, What is Art?
certain fundamental ideas emerge as positive standards for
a work of literature. Because these standards are to be
applied to specific novels, they will be listed below in
interrogative form. Four general questions will be used to
organize our approach.
First, what is art? Does the specific novel under
consideration fulfill Tolstoy’s basic definition of art?
Is it a means of expression whereby the author shares with
his readers emotions which he himself has experienced? if
not, how does It differ from this definition? How does the
emotional experience evoked by the book compare in equality
and purpose with the emotional experience provided by
literature which fulfills the requirements of Tolstoy's
definition of art?
Second, would Tolstoy classify the novel as genuine
art or counterfeit art? Is it characterized by the quali
ties of clarity, individuality, and sincerity as is genuine
art? Or does the novelist incorporate the methods of
borrowing, imitation, use of striking effects, and use
50
of interesting material to create counterfeit art? It is
not always possible to agree with Tolstoy when he labels
one work of art as genuine and another as counterfeit.
This approach, consequently, will be evaluated from the
standpoint of whether or not Tolstoy's criteria for genuine
and counterfeit art helps us to understand the work of art
itself. Of secondary importance is the answer to the ques
tion, "Does the author achieve the standards which Tolstoy
has prescribed?"
Third, is the novel for everyone? Is the specific
literary work of such a nature that it is vital to all men?
Although Tolstoy felt the artist's role in society should
be such that he be required to earn his bread through
honest labor apart from his creative efforts, little con
cern will be given to the question as to whether the novel
was written by a man accustomed to physical labor. More
important, is the novel comprehensible to everyone, or can
it be understood only by a selected few of the total
population? Will the feelings conveyed by the artist
infect everyone, or will they infect only a special class
of people trained to appreciate certain subtleties and dis
tortions of the more elemental emotions? Finally, is the
51
novel in its subject matter vital to all men? Does it
concern itself with the problems of the common man who must
labor to earn bread for his family and whose happiness and
wellbeing are determined by the more basic issues of his
life?
And fourth, is there a positive, wholesome theme or
purpose underlying the novel? If such a theme can be
discerned, further questions are immediately suggested by
Tolstoy1s essay. Can this theme be associated with the
highest religious perceptions of the culture from which it
emanated? Does it tend to unite man with man in the spirit
of brotherhood? Does the theme of the novel, or do the
episodes of the novel have universal appeal in the sense
that the feelings evoked by the artist are those which
remind men of their mutual heritage of human nature?
In the next chapter a study of Anna Karenina will
reveal how one of Tolstoy's own novels stands up under the
scrutiny of his critical standards.
CHAPTER II
ANNA KARENINA
Introduction and General Observations
To read Anna Karenina in the frame of reference set
forth in the preceding chapter is a rather unique experi
ence. Many literary critics dismiss the Tolstoy of the
1890's and 1900's as merely the worn-out shadow of a former
genius. But when one compares the outstanding literary
qualities and the dominant ideas of Anna Karenina with
those set forth in What is Art?, he cannot fail to recog
nize the impress of the same original mind on both.
Tolstoy developed his critical views in What is Art?
from the basic definition that art is a natural activity
whereby one man conveys to others emotions which he himself
has experienced. Tolstoy undoubtedly developed this defi
nition by referring to his own accomplishments in the
literary field. The very essence of his art as exemplified
by Anna Karenina is that it is the transferral of emotions
52
53
which he himself had previously experienced and cherished.
This will show that the emphasis upon the transferral to
the reader of the emotion experienced by the author is the
dominant quality which gives his art its greatness.
Tolstoy, the author of Anna Karenina, may not have
held the same ideas about the purpose of art that Tolstoy
the reformer and critic entertained. It is readily appar
ent, however, that the seeds of the older man's ideas were
at least germinating in the literary creation of his youth.
In What is Art? Tolstoy tells us that the purpose of art
is to unite man with man. This may be done in two ways:
by artistically evoking emotions directly derived from the
highest religious perceptions of the times and by present
ing common experiences which evoke in each man feelings
which make him sensitive to his kinship with his fellow
beings. In the first case, the highest religious percep
tion of a man living in nineteenth century Europe was,
according to Tolstoy, the concept of the Fatherhood of God
and the subsequent brotherhood of all men. In the second
case, such experiences as courtship, marriage, parenthood,
death of a brother are notable examples. The great indi
vidual scenes in Anna Karenina center around the character
54
of Levin. It is through the life of Levin, a semi-
autobiographical sketch of the author, that we see clearly
the two elements which Tolstoy was later to categorize as
the dual methods for making a work of art purposeful in the
highest degree. Levin struggles to find meaning for his
life. While generally unsuccessful for years, he comes
closest to his goal when he experiences deep feelings over
events which he as well as the majority of mankind must
face. The death of his brother, Nikolay, his proposal to
Kitty, his marriage day, and the birth of his first child
are examples of experiences which make his life vital.
Yet, his relationship with his peasant laborers shows that
he still seeks something more. This dissatisfaction is
resolved in the episode where he talks to the peasant,
Fyodor. Fyodor artlessly tells Levin how the well-to-do
peasant, Platon, is considered a good man because, moti
vated solely by his faith in God, he deals honestly with
his fellowmen. These few words reveal to Levin a relation
ship between man and man and man and God that he had never
before been completely able to accept because of its in
herent simplicity.
Here, presented in artistic form, is the religious
conversion which Tolstoy himself experienced in 1888.
55
He later revealed this personal experience in his short
autobiographical Mv Confession. This conversion marked the
beginning of the end of Tolstoy as a great creative artist.
He became progressively more and more interested in social
reform and personal Christian living--tendencies which
prompted him to treat contemporary art as he did in his
essay, What is Art? Nevertheless, certain dominant ideas
which correspond with what Tolstoy later expressed as the
real purpose of art are apparent in Anna Karenina. Most
obvious of these is the problem of a man in search of pur
pose in examining his relation to God and to his fellow
men. In the closing pages of the novel Levin seems to
express the best answer that Tolstoy can give to this ques
tion. A closer examination of this answer will be neces
sary later in this chapter.
Tolstoy’s contention that art is for everyone is re
flected in several ways in Anna Karenina. The problems of
the Russian peasant and his life and way of thinking are
revealed at least in part as Tolstoy depicts Levin’s deal
ings with them. The book is in part a contrast between
genuine, sincere people, as exemplified by Levin, Kitty,
and Anna, and people who have fitted into the mold of
56
society to the extent that they seem to have lost their
consciences or at least their ability to make sound moral
judgments as, for instance, Karenin, Vronsky, and Stiva
Oblonsky. Tolstoy seems to contrast society with basic
human nature as he artistically presents these two classes
of people.
The subject matter of Anna Karenina seems remarkably
adapted to all readers. In general it deals with very
basic human experiences. The death of a brother, the near
death of a loved one, the love of a mother for a son she
cannot visit, the emotional experience a young man goes
through between the time a girl accepts his proposal of
marriage and the time it is made known to the world, the
confusion and frustration brought about by the loss of his
shirt on the young man's wedding day, and the long hours
of suspense, emotional excitement, and helplessness ex
perienced by a father before the birth of his first child--
these are experiences of a universal nature which any adult
human being can compare with experiences of his own.
In a general way the questions developed in the first
chapter of this work are readily answered when one applies
them to Anna Karenina. To shed any light upon the quality
57
of the novel, however, It Is necessary to probe more deeply
into certain aspects of Anna Karenina. This inquiry will
proceed in the following sequence:
1. Tolstoy*s literary technique will be analysed in
an effort to answer the question "What is Art?"
His material will be compared with his definition
of art.
2. The novel must also be considered in relation to
Tolstoy's observations on genuine and counterfeit
art.
3. Next. Anna Karenina will be examined to see if it
measures up to the standards of what Tolstoy
called art for all men.
4. Finally, the theme or purpose of the novel must be
examined in relation to the purpose of art as set
forth in What is Art?
From Emotional Experience into Artistic Form
fWhat is Art?>
Anna Karenina is a book well worth the attention of
Western critics. Robert Morse Lovett tells us that this
book was the first major Russian novel to enter England.
It drew the attention of English readers to Tolstoy's other
58
works and also to the literary achievements of other great
Russian writers, particularly Chekhov and Dostoyevsky.
Cultural interchange, moreover, was not limited to litera
ture. Both Russian ballet and Russian music subsequently
attracted a great deal of interest in England and the
West.*
The problem of proving that an author wrote to convey
his own personal experiences--unless that author tells us
himself that he has done so--is a forbidding task for a
research scholar. For this reason the critical questions
in the first chapter of this work were formulated without
considering Tolstoy's most basic assertion--that art is the
process by which one man objectifies emotions which he has
experienced in such a manner that he is able to infect
others with these same feelings. It seems absurd to
develop literary criticism from What is Art? without asking
the basic question of whether a specific literary work can
be called art according to Tolstoy's basic definition.
Although aware of this seeming absurdity, this writer has
heretofore evaded this problem because the task of actually
^"Tolstoy: The Lesson of the Artist,” New Republic,
56:63, September 5, 1928.
59
proving that an individual writer has sought in his art
primarily to convey feelings he has already experienced
is a task, which according to the nature of the writer,
might easily be more involved than this general study of
three separate novelists would allow.
To prove that a writer has attempted in a work of art
to convey his own individual feelings may well be an impos
sible task. Biographical research can give evidence to
support contentions of this type but can never prove them.
In the case of Tolstoy, for Instance, it is often asserted
that his presence at the death of his brother, Nikolay, is
reflected in his literary works. In a long, elaborate
scene in Anna Karenina the reader witnesses Levin's inner
struggles as he stands helplessly at the bedside of his
dying brother, also named Nikolay. How are we to know that
Levin's feelings are those which Tolstoy himself felt under
the same circumstances?
If Tolstoy sought to glorify or simplify the feelings
he conveys in the literary scene, we would be none the
wiser. To carry this analogy even farther, more than one
literary critic has connected The Death of Ivan Ilych with
Tolstoy’s early experience at the time of his brother's
60
death. In the former example, Tolstoy may, from the per
spective of Levin, have presented feelings he actually
experienced at the death scene. But it is hardly likely
that any reader can be asked to believe that he is being
presented with anything more than imagined experience when
presented with the artistically conceived emotional experi
ences of progressive deterioration and impending death from
the perspective of the dying man. Obviously, The Death of
Ivan Ilych offers to the reader only the experience of what
Tolstoy imagined death to be like. The great Russian
master was unconmonly healthy, and though he became more
than a little preoccupied by the problem of death in his
early forties and was convinced that he was soon to die in
his sixties, he lived beyond his eighty-second birthday--
providing the world with forty years of artistic creativity
and moral and social leadership after his early fears of
a premature natural death.
Although it is hard to apply the definition of art
Tolstoy gives us in What is Art? to any individual novel
because of the difficulty of proving that the author is
genuinely and sincerely expressing emotions he has felt,
this objection may be overlooked in Tolstoy's case.
61
Perhaps the best proof of the autobiographical nature of
his art Is his own artistic criticism. Tolstoy has defined
art as the normal human activity whereby one man conveys
to others through artistic forms the emotions he has felt.
The very fact that Tolstoy formulated this definition
should incline one to accept his statement that a portion
of his work was founded on his own experience and was as
sincere as he could make it from the standpoint of repro
ducing genuine emotions.
Critics have agreed almost unanimously that Anna
Karenina is in part autobiographical. Few have felt it
necessary to substantiate this observation. Matthew
Arnold, whose laudatory essay on Anna Karenina Immediately
popularized the novel in England and, hence, the English-
speaking world, put subsequent critics in this frame of
mind as he judged Anna Karenina to be superior to War and
Peace:
But in the novel one prefers, I think, to have the
novelist dealing with the life which he knows from
having lived it, rather than the life which he knows
from books or hearsay.
%
2
Men and Books, ed. Malcolm S. MacLean (New York,
1932), p. 246.
62
This observation merely states that Tolstoy wrote
about the kind of life he knew, not that he reconstructed
his own emotional experiences. But biography leads us
closer to our proof. Alexander L. Nazaroff tells us,
Indeed in later years, Sophia Andreyevna would often
jest: "Lyoyochka, you are Levin, plus talent; and Levin
is an unbearable fellow. . . ."3
The words "plus talent" are worthy of note here. While the
effect of this quotation is to indicate that Sophia Andre
yevna observed a strong similarity between Levin and
Tolstoy, these two words "plus talent" indicate she saw,
too, a considerable difference between author and creation.
One of Tolstoy’s brothers-in-law observed that the charac
ter of Levin was very much like Tolstoy himself except that
the discontent and disharmony of the literary character in
relation to the sophisticated Moscow society was somewhat
exaggerated.^ These statements indicate that Tolstoy would
readily distort autobiographical characterization wherever
it served his purpose in rendering the emotional aspects
of his experiences.
3
Tolstoy: The Inconstant Genius (New York, 1927),
p. 195.
A
The Complete Works of Leo Tolstoy. I (New York,
1927), p. iv.
63
Exaggeration is merely artistic license used by
Tolstoy to depict the essential intellectual and emotional
disturbances in such a form that the reader will receive
the full emotional brunt of his work. While Tolstoy was
much more concerned with conveying his feelings than with
reproducing his own personality in one of his characters,
we must agree with one of his most perceptive and articu
late admirers, Thomas Mann, as he says,
So much is true, that Levin is Tolstoy, the real hero
of the mighty novel, which is a glorious indestructible
signpost on the woeful Way of the Cross the poet was
taking; a monument of an elemental and creative bear-
strength which was first heightened and then destroyed
by the inner ferment of his subtilizing conscience and
his fear of God. Yes, Levin is Tolstoy— almost alto
gether Tolstoy, this side of Tolstoy the artist. To this
character Tolstoy transferred not only the important
facts and dates of his own life: his experience as a
farmer, his romance and betrothal (which are completely
autobiographic), the sacred, beautiful and aweful ex
perience of the birth of his first child, and the death
of his brother which forms a pendant of equal and bound
less significance— not only there but in his whole inner
life, his crises of conscience, his groping after the
whole duty of man and the meaning of life, his painful
wrestling over the good life, which so decisively
estranged him from the doings of urban society; his
knowing about culture itself or that which his society
called culture, doubts of all this brought him close to
the anchorite and nihilist type.^
" ’ Thomas Mann, Essays of Three Decades (New York,
1948), p. 181.
64
Thus far the novel has been considered only from its
autobiographical aspect. The story of Anna, the central
figure in the novel, is, of course, not autobiographical.
What justification can be given for this approach? The
answer is clear. Tolstoy tried, in literary form, to pre
sent Anna and Levin in contrast as they experienced similar
problems of life such as a deep love affair, death of a
loved one, birth of a child, and inability to adjust to the
insincere nature of the society about each of them. Thomas
Mann’s description above of the depth and variety of human
experience that is to be seen in Levin is sufficient evi
dence that Tolstoy explored these problems more deeply
through the character of Levin than it was possible for him
to do with Anna. Anna is perhaps the more conraanding
figure. Her life is made up of more activity, and her
nature seems more assertive and more able to control its
own destiny. Her experiences are more catastrophic and her
ending is more tragic. As more of the action of the book
revolves around her, it would at first appear that any
over-all meaning of the novel must be examined from the
point of view of her life. In dealing with Tolstoy’s art,
this paper has dealt exclusively with Levin thus far
65
because it is through the more personal emotional por
trayal --that of Levin--we can come closer to the heart of
Tolstoy's genius.
Before pursuing the portrayal of Levin any further, it
would be well to note that a certain amount of personal
feeling activated Tolstoy to his portrayal of the life of
his heroine. Several scholars point out that the death of
a servant girl suggested the central episode in the novel.
Tolstoy's son, Count Ilya, is one of these:
Bibikof, father of the half-witted Nikolenka, who
used to come to our Christmas trees, had a housekeeper
named Anna Stepanovna. Out of jealousy for the governess
she went to Yasenki station, threw herself tinder the
train and was crushed to death. I remember someone
arriving at Yasnaya, and telling my father about it; I
remember that he started off for Bibikof's and Yasenki
at once, and was present at the post mortem.^
Tolstoy, who was very sensitive to the idea of death,
may have been strongly affected by this event. It is sug
gested, however, that this is not the motivating factor
which caused him to start Anna Karenina. Joyce Cary, in
Art and Reality: Ways of the Creative Process, indicates
that another experience prompted Tolstoy to explore the
deepest feelings of a woman.
Reminiscences of Tolstoy, trans. by George Calderon
(New York, 1914), p. 134.
66
Tolstoy had his important intuition one morning when
sitting in his dressing gown which was embroidered in
what was called Turkish work. Tolstoy, noticing the
work, was suddenly struck by its elaboration and deli
cacy, its patient precision. He thought some unknown
woman did all that careful stitchery, and so he felt the
profound difference of a woman's life, a woman'd mind,
and a woman's world, from a man's. And this was directly
illustrative of Tolstoy's theme, whereas the suicide did
not belong to the theme, and therefore it suggested only
an incident in the working out, the conceptual planning
of the work. ?
Mr. Cary considers Tolstoy's theme to be a contrast between
the false, artificial, and unnatural life of Anna as
opposed to the natural, basic, and genuine lives of Kitty
and Levin. To the extent that one accepts this statement
of theme, his observations are well-grounded. More impor
tant to us, however, is the fact that Tolstoy is interested
in the emotional world of a woman. It seems he must have
asked himself, "How does it feel to live as does this woman
required to devote hours on end to weaving a tapestry?
How would it feel to b*j this woman?’1
Tolstoy may well have tried to answer for himself the
question of how it felt to be a Russian noble woman living
in contemporary society. In order to examine this subject
in depth he had to project his reasoning, speculate on
^(New York, 1958), p. 107.
67
the nature of a woman's temperament, and question his wife,
Sophia Andreyevna, whenever he was perplexed by the prob
lem of how a woman would act and feel in a given situation.
It cannot be denied that he has done a creditable job
in portraying Anna in the novel. It seems, however, that
Levin is the central figure in the really memorable scenes
in this great novel. While Anna is a strong character,
individual scenes in which she performs seem to dissolve
more readily, for this reader at least, than do those in
which Levin goes through adventures very similar in nature
to those that Tolstoy himself experienced.
It has been noted that Tolstoy as an artist is intent
upon conveying emotion in his art. Furthermore, he seems
to be most successful in this when he re-creates episodes
in his own life rather than projecting hypothetical per
sonalities such as Anna and Vronsky into situations with
which he really had no experience. How can these observa
tions lead us to the heart or essence of Tolstoy's work?
Edward A. Steiner, a contemporary and a distant acquaint
ance of Leo Tolstoy, remarks critically,
He never stops to analyse character, but he describes
in the simplest way the life of a man, never forgetting
the slightest details. He does this with such fresh
68
frankness that the character is revealed from the first
moment, and one is never in doubt "whether it is good,
or whether it is evil."®
To any reader acquainted with Anna, Levin, Kitty,
Stiva Oblensky, or any other major characters in Anna
Karenina. Dr. Steiner's observations above are clear and
direct. Tolstoy is a genius at creating in his novels
characters with genuine and vibrant personalities. Yet he
does not analyse his characters, nor does he dwell on the
process of rounding out his literary personalities.
Rather, as Percy Lubbock observes,
He can create a character in so few words— he can
make the man.ier of a man's or a woman's thoughts so
quickly intelligent— that even though his story is
crowded and over-crowded with people he can render them
all, so to speak, by the way, give them all their due
without any study of them outside the passing episode.9
Lubbock contrasts this technique of creating character
with that of Balzac, who carefully builds up his situation
and indicates the nature of his characters by an elaborate
presentation of their background. Balzac will spend a
hundred pages building up the dynamics of a scene, then
Q
Edward A. Steiner, Tolstoy; The Man and His Message
(New York, 1908), p. 196.
^Percy Lubbock, The Craft of Fiction (New York, 1929),
p. 239.
69
resolve It In the space of a dozen pages. Tolstoy, on the
other hand, presents everything in the form of scenic
action, creating an immense panorama of personalities and
manners. It may be as Lubbock believes, however, that this
method so natural to Tolstoy, produces the one flaw in
the novel. The personality of Anna is not completely
developed before Tolstoy launches into the story of her
romance with Vronsky and her subsequent deterioration.
Though Tolstoy may lack Balzac's thoroughness in construct
ing the foundation upon which the story rests, our concern
here is with the fact that Tolstoy uses the scenic method
to present a vast and varied view of human life. Lubbock
says,
Tolstoy's grasp of a human being's whole existence,
of everything that goes to make it, is not as capacious
as Balzac's; but on the other hand he can create a living
scene, exquisitely and easily expressive, out of anything
whatever, the lightest trifle of an incident. If he
describes how a child lingered at the foot of the stairs,
teasing an old servant or how a peasant woman stood in
a doorway, laughing and calling to the men at work in the
farmyard, the thing becomes a poetic event; in half a
page he makes an unforgettable scene. It suddenly glows
and flashes, and its effect in the story is profound.
A passing glimpse of this kind is caught, say, by Anna
in her hungry desperation, by Levin as he wanders and
speculates; and immediately their experience is fuller
by an eloquent memory. The vividness of the small scene
becomes a part of them, for us who read; it is something
added to our impression of their reality. And so the
half-page is not a diversion or an interlude; it speeds
70
the story by augmenting the tone and value of the lives
we are watching. It happens again and again; that is
Tolstoy*s way of creating a life, of raising it to its
full power by a gradual process of enrichment, till Anna
or Levin is at length a complete being, intimately under
stood, ready for the climax of the tale. (Craft of
Fiction, pp. 241-242)
Here is the key to Tolstoy's literary genius. A scene
from the novel, quoted below, shows how concise and accu
rate Lubbock’s observation is. His is a clinical type of
observation, however, and while he notes the structure, he
may not have completely described the warmth, vitality, and
life so characteristic of Tolstoy's scenes. Levin is in
a joyous frame of mind. Kitty has just accepted his pro
posal. Her mother has yielded to the daughter's choice and
congratulates him; then the old Prince addresses his future
son-in-law.
"You've not been long in settling things," said the
old prince, trying to seem unmoved; but Levin noticed
that his eyes were wet when he turned to him.
"I've long always wished for this!" said the prince,
taking Levin by the arm and drawing him towards himself.
"Even when this little featherhead fancied. ..."
He embraced Kitty, kissed her face, her hand, her
face again and made the sign of the cross over her.
And there came over Levin a new feeling of love
for this man, till then so little known to him, when
71
he saw how slowly and tenderly Kitty kissed his
muscular h a n d
Notice the way Lubbock's observations are supported.
The scene is brief, but It reveals three characters In
action. The experience Is heartwarming, and from an
acquaintance with the three— Levin, Kitty, and the old
prince--the reader is left with the impression that all
three are good people with very normal, very human frail
ties and aspirations. As the same characters are repeatedly
presented In this manner through the course of the book,
the reader cannot but feel that he is becoming more inti
mately acquainted with the principals in the novel.
The scene offers a vivid picture for the reader. But
Tolstoy does not stop here. It cannot be denied that the
scene provokes feeling. Lionel Trilling has pinpointed the
general quality of that feeling when he says Tolstoy's
descriptive powers are not objective, but subjective:
. . . most lavish and prodigal subjectivity possible,
for every object in the Iliad or in Anna Karenina exists
in the medium of what we must call the author's love.
But this love is so pervasive, it is so constant, and
^Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina, trans. by Constance
Garnett (Philadelphia, n.d.), p. 516.
72
it is so equitable, that it creates the illusion of
objectivity, for everything in Nature without exception
exists in time, 9pace, and atmosphere.
There is a feeling which rises from this scene, and
that feeling is love. The scene itself illustrates the
love of an old man for his daughter during a moment when
she is blissfully happy. Tolstoy presents the scene as it
affects Levin who is in love with the daughter and who
instantly feels a strong warm bond of friendship for the
father. Tolstoy tells us in What is Art? that emotions
infect people. In this scene the three principals are in
fected with warm, personal love and friendship. More
important though, this infectious feeling of love plays its
part upon the readers too. The feelings portrayed in the
scene evoke similar, sympathetic feelings in those who read
the novel.
Tolstoy is at his best when he does convey through his
art that infectious feeling of love of one human for
another. This feeling recurs frequently in his work, and
the quality of this emotion reminds one of the dignity of
the human personality and, hence, leaves him with the
■^Lionel Trilling, The Opposing Self (New York, 1955),
p. 69.
73
feeling that the book has re-created for him a reminder of
the nobler side of human life. This quality appears at
other times also. The scene where Levin mows grass with
peasants evokes a similar quality of feeling. A sense of
accomplishment and success is occasioned by the voluntary
completion of a difficult task. Experiencing for the first
time a way of life so conmon to a large group of one’s
fellow men is an appealing thought to the reader of a
novel— a person consciously seeking vicarious experience.
What greater adventure is there than to live genuinely the
life of another for a few moments--to answer for oneself
the questions, "Do others feel the same way as I do?" and
"How would it really feel to be that person?"
Herein lies the secret to Tolstoy's art. As Percy
Lubbock has shown us, he is a great master of the scenic
method. His scenes capture actions in such a way that they
reveal the nature, experience, and thoughts of the princi
pal characters. The cumulative effect of this is an eco
nomic and fruitful method of character development. More
important, however, is the fact that feelings are evolved
by these scenes. Tolstoy's scenes have an infectious
quality which captures the reader. Hence his art is just
74
what he has said art should be--a means whereby one man is
able to convey to others emotions he himself has felt.
Feelings emanate from the pages of Tolstoy’s novels.
These feelings are oftentimes extremely meaningful to his
readers. The questions of the meaning and purpose of life
or a concern for the welfare of the peasants will fill the
consciousness of Levin. The scene is presented so effec
tively that the reader is similarly concerned with the
problem. He is convinced of its importance because the
thoughts and feelings evoked in him by the scene are much
akin to feelings he has experienced in real life when he
has found himself consciously reflecting upon the more
basic questions of human existence.
Counterfeit versus Genuine Art
Counterfeit Art
The basic nature of Tolstoy’s art sheds light on his
contrast of counterfeit and genuine art in the essay, What
is Art? The discussion above of his ability to present
effective scenes embodying a high quality of emotional
content implies the qualities of sincerity, clarity, and
individuality--the three characteristics of what Tolstoy
75
called genuine art. To Tolstoy counterfeit art consisted
of those devices used by writers as substitutes for genuine
art. These methods or techniques include: (1) borrowing
something that has previously appeared in art form;
(2) imitation of the exact form of something that appears
in real life; (3) use of sensational or striking events;
and (4) use of material, such as history, which interests
but does not really infect the reader.
Can Anna Karenina be criticized because its author
resorted to any of the four methods or techniques labeled
later by Tolstoy as earmarks of counterfeit art?
Borrowing from literature and tradition. Tolstoy is
one of the few novelists of the world who cannot in any
sense be accused of "borrowing" from other artists. He is
not the product of a literary school. There were no great
literary masters to whom he turned for models. Just as
Tolstoy tried to build up his aesthetic theory from the
simplest, most natural forms of expression such as folk
lore, his models for creative expression stemmed from the
most basic examples of human expression. In What is Art?
Tolstoy tells us that he is much more moved by listening
to a peasant woman sing a cradle song to her infant than
76
he is by listening to the music of Beethoven. In the same
essay he points to the Joseph story in the Old Testament
as an example of truly great literature with universal
appeal.
Stephan Zweig, who is never given to understatement,
finds Tolstoy's prose comparable in quality to the poetry
of the folk epics attributed to Homer.
. . . The writer of epics that are Homeric in their
grandeur, this raconteur whose tales are pre-eminently
natural and crystal-clear and endowed with the primitive
ness of the folk-spirit, is, under the skin, a profoundly
self-critical and tormented artist. (Are there any
artists of a different kind?) But as a crowning mercy
the toilsomeness of the process leaves no trace upon the
finished product. Of our time and yet transcending time,
this prose which is the outcome of art gives the impres
sion of having always existed, of being self-created,
ageless as nature. Nothing stamps it as belonging to
any specific epoch.^
Zweig points to The Death of Ivan Ilych and "Does a Man
Want Much Land?" as specific examples of the quality of
writing mentioned above.
The qualities of simplicity and concern for basic
issues of human life and feeling may be applied to Anna
Karenina in a more general way. Tolstoy was interested in
the problems of normal existence such as love, marriage,
12
Adepts in Self-Portraiture (New York, 1929),
pp. 791-792.
77
problems of domestic life, a search for a meaningful life,
man's relationship with man, and his relationship with God.
As an artist and as a man, he was sincere In his concern
for these things, and this sincerity kept his art free from
the Influence of other men's techniques and personalities.
Goethe's reworking of the Faust legend Is an example
of what Tolstoy meant by "borrowing" as a method of pro
ducing counterfeit art. Though we must disagree with
Tolstoy when he discounts Goethe's Faust as a work of art,
we would agree with him that an imitation of the dramatic
poem would ordinarily exemplify counterfeit art. A certain
number of readers would associate the feelings engendered
by the artistic effect of the first with the artificial
repetition of the imitation. This substitute for the
original work, however, should not be confused with genuine
art.
There are several reasons why the very nature of
Tolstoy's works made it impossible for him to borrow
material. First, the scope of what he sought to achieve
was so large that it belittled any creative efforts in the
genre of the novel that preceded his. Many critics have
called War and Peace the greatest novel ever written.
78
Yet few have tried to compare it with any other. The
reason for this is simple. The gigantic scope of the novel
is almost enough to shock human credibility. It stands
alone outside the range of the normal artistTs attempt to
reproduce life as he sees it. While Anna Karenina lacks
the stature of War and Peace, it is still ample evidence of
Tolstoy’s predilection for bigness in conception and execu
tion. Second, Tolstoy incorporates a great deal of auto
biographical material into his art. As his life is his
own, he cannot be accused of borrowing from others when he
deals with personal experiences and thoughts. Both his
mental and emotional states were reflected by his art. In
fact the revelation of these states was a reason for his
art.
Imitation of real life. The second technique or
method Tolstoy condemned as characterizing counterfeit art
was the imitation of the actual experience. Imitation, to
Tolstoy, meant the exact reproduction in art form of some
thing that existed in real life. If a writer were to over
hear a dialogue and reproduce it unaltered in a story or
novel, this process would be imitation. In What is Art?
Tolstoy tells us that the objective reproduction or
79
imitation of the scene is not art, but merely detailed
reporting. The artist is not as interested in the scene as
he is in his own emotional response to it. In turn it is
this emotional response which he wants to relay to the
reader. Thus, he selects certain details for emphasis,
overlooks others for simplification, and even exaggerates
where necessary to reproduce the proper feelings in the
reader. It is this feeling, not the exact reproduction of
the details of the scene, that is the goal of the artist.
Tolstoy seems to capture life in his novels and short
stories. Is this "life" achieved through imitation or
through artistic accomplishment? Matthew Arnold, the first
great English-speaking critic of Anna Karenina, felt that
Tolstoyfs effort to portray lifelike situations actually
weakened the novel. Economy of artistic effect was sacri
ficed by Tolstoy's desire to tell a good story. Arnold
considers the love affair between Varenka and Levin's
brother, Serge Ivanitch, completely superfluous to the
novel. The incident on the morning of Levin's wedding is
to him another scene which seems meaningless to the prog
ress of the novel.
What does the incident of Levin's long delay, which
as we read of it seems to have significance, really
import? It turns out to import absolutely nothing, and
80
to be introduced solely to give the author the pleasure
of telling us that all Levin’s shirts had been packed up.
But the truth is we are not to take Anna Karenina as
a work of art; we are to take it as a piece of life.- * - 3
This last sentence of Arnold’s is often quoted. While
it is famous, it seems to have proceeded from a misunder
stand ing of Tolstoy’s purpose. Arnold was the first
English critic of Tolstoy, and while he eulogized the
Russian novelist, he did not see as many aspects of his
works as subsequent critics were to find. Lionel Trilling
varies in the other extreme when he credits Tolstoy with
too much purpose in the presentation of these seemingly
superfluous scenes.
Part of the magic of the book is that it violates our
notions of the ratio that should exist between the im
portance of an event and the amount of space given to it.
Vronsky’s sudden grasp of the fact that he is bound to
Anna not by love but by the end of love, a perception
which colors all our own understanding of the relation
ship of the two lovers is handled in a few lines; but
pages are devoted to Levin’s discovery that all his
shirts have been packed and he has no shirt to wear at
his wedding. (The Opposing Self, p. 74)
Trilling goes on to tell us that this seems to be life
rather than art because Tolstoy is wise enough to realize
that the spirit of man is always at the mercy of the actual
13
"Anna Karenina," Men and Books (New York, 1932),
p. 247.
81
and the trivial. The trivial and the minor joys and
irritations of life really play a larger, more important
role in the life of a man than do the "great scenes" of his
life.
A close examination of one of Tolstoy's scenes may
confirm Trilling's observation. Levin, perplexed with the
lethargy of his peasants and angered by their slipshod per
formances, experiences a quick change of mood when he hears
that his prize cow has calved.
. . . Walking across the yard, passing a snow drift
by the lilac-tree, he went into the cow house. There
was the warm steamy smell of dung when the frozen door
was opened, and the cows, astonished at the unfamiliar
light of the lantern, stirred on the fresh straw. . . .
Levin went into the pen, looked Pava over, and lifted
the red and spotted calf onto her long, tottering legs.
Pava, uneasy, began lowing, but when Levin put the calf
close to her she was soothed, and, sighing heavily,
began licking her with her rough tongue. The calf,
fumbling, poked her nose under her mother's udder, and
stiffened her tail out straight.
"Here, bring the light, Fyodor, this way," said Levin,
examining the calf. "Like the mother! though the color
takes after the father; but that's nothing. Very good.
Long and broad in the haunch. Vassily Fedorovitch, isn't
she splendid?" he said to the bailiff, quite forgetting
him for the buckwheat under the influence of his delight
in the calf. . . . (Anna Karenina, p. 122)
Is this scene a detailed objective description of a
farmer looking at his prize calf or is it a scene in which
detail has been carefully selected to convey the mood
82
or feeling the artist desires? While only selected por
tions of the passage are quoted above, enough is presented
to indicate Tolstoy*s method. There is in the complete
text a remarkable collection of details designed to picture
the scene vividly in the mind*s eye of the reader; the snow
drift by the lilac tree, the smell of dung, the lantern
light, the bull with a ring in his lip, the cow as big as
a hippopotamus are examples of this. These are not de
scribed in detail, but each is suggested, and each con
tributes to the total effect.
The scene is made even more vivid by means of move
ment. The animals stirring on fresh straw, the bull about
to rise to its feet, then thinking better of it, the cow
hiding the calf with her body, Levin setting the calf on
its legs. Tolstoy literally makes the scene live as he
describes so much movement in a single paragraph.
The scene is presented in a wholesome way, and the
reader reacts favorably to it. Does Tolstoy intend to
impart a feeling to the reader as he writes? Notice this
clause: "There was the warm steamy smell of dung when the
frozen door was opened." No one will argue with the accu
racy of this description. There are, however, two ways--
83
vastly different ways--in which the smell of dung can
affect the emotions of an individual. In this case there
is a warmth, almost an invitation suggested by the descrip
tion. The effect of the scene is calm and domestic.
Levin's pride over the acquisition of a fine calf adds a
wholesome enthusiasm to the feeling generated by the scene.
The fact that he had just been arguing adds infectiousness
to the feeling. Levin is happy upon seeing the calf. He
speaks kindly to the man who was the object of his anger
moments before. Vassily's response is equally warm. The
reader has witnessed the process whereby dissension is
smothered by happiness. He, too, is affected by what he
has read. Thus, the scene is infectious just as Tolstoy
meant it to be.
Lubbock was right when he said that Tolstoy used a
series of scenes to construct a composite picture of the
central characters of the novel. There is warmth, hap
piness, and love in this scene which gives us a glimpse of
Levin. Examining Tolstoy's technique of presenting the
"real world" has led to a profitable observation: Tolstoy
not only selects his material to present the desired effect
from each scene, but he employs the over-all effect of
84
this technique to present a valuable insight into the
greater purpose of the novel. Notice the many, many scenes
in which the characters of Kitty and Levin are presented
and contrast the feelings that are invoked by these scenes
with the reactions to the stormy scenes between Anna and
her husband, Karenin, or between Anna and Vronsky in their
later quarrels, or merely of Karenin posing as a great man
within the framework of government bureaucracy. The scenes
of Levin and Kitty present warmth, love, and a sincere
concern for the great problems of normal human existence--
marriage, death, and the meaning of life. The scenes
centering around Anna, Vronsky, and Karenin leave the
reader with a feeling of distaste or a predilection to
laughter at the insincerity and artificiality with which
certain elements of society shield themselves from life.
This idea will be extended later when the meaning or pur
pose of Anna Karenina is discussed. It is significant to
note, however, that a look at Anna Karenina from the stand
point of whether or not Tolstoy tries to "imitate" the real
world offers us an insight into the novel that Matthew
Arnold, for instance, never dreamed of.
85
Use of sensational and striking effects. The third
technique of counterfeit art to which Tolstoy objected was
the use of sensational and striking events. Instead of
appealing to manTs higher, more noble emotions, this method
appealed to all that was base and animalistic in man.
Scenes of violence, detailed accounts of death and suffer
ing, and the exploitation of sex are examples of sensa
tional or striking events.
Although the story of Anna Karenina is one of an
illicit love affair, there is no appeal to the sensual side
of sex in the book. (In fact the opposite might well be
argued.) Tolstoy is almost equally fastidious in avoiding
sensational elements. One episode in the book does, how
ever, suggest that Tolstoy might be accused of introducing
the sensational. At one point he spends more than twenty
pages describing in detail the death of Levin's brother,
Nikolay.
Tolstoy's handling of the death of Nikolay is worth
careful consideration. The death of Tolstoy's own brother
left a lasting impression upon him, and here in Anna
Karenina some part of his emotional experience is re
created. A careful perusal of this scene will indicate
86
that it is not unduly morbid or sensational. Indeed, the
opposite is true. There is, to be sure, some physical
description of the torment and the fear the dying man was
experiencing. Fear and horror do not, however, emanate
from the portrayal of this death. Quite the contrary, the
emphasis is on the positive measures whereby Nikolay is
made more comfortable during his last hours. The story of
his death is presented through the eyes of Levin. The
latter*s impressions are those that give rise to the feel
ings emanating from the incident. What are these impres
sions? First, Levin is amazed at how his wife, Kitty,
takes over the management of details. She has the room and
the linen cleaned and makes the dying man comfortable. The
major emphasis in this sequence is not on Nikolay any more
than it is on Kitty. He is passively dying; she is
actively working to comfort him. levin is left with a
new-found respect for the ability of women to treat such
staggering problems as death and sickness in a practical
and natural way, while he, well-read on the subject and
philosophical by nature, is rendered impotent. Two domi
nant feelings rise from this death scene as witnessed by
Levin: special admiration for his wife and a great respect
87
for the ability of those who do not meditate excessively on
the problems of life to meet those problems naturally and
make a good accounting for themselves. This foretells a
condition which is to be made clearer at the time of his
”conversion” later in the story.
Tolstoy does not emphasize the striking or the sensa
tional in any way in Anna Karenina. On the contrary he
avoids this practice even when an opportunity to follow it
is near at hand, as in the scene of the death of Nikolay.
Matthew Arnold has passed judgment on this subject, and
there is no reason to suppose he was wrong.
Much in Anna Karenina is painful, much is unpleasant,
but nothing is of a nature to trouble the senses, or to
please those who wish their senses troubled. (Men and
Books. p. 255)
Use of "interesting” material to dilute art. The
fourth technique of counterfeit art is that of introducing
extraneous but interesting material into a work of art.
This material may be absorbing to the mind of the reader;
but if it keeps him from realizing the emotional impact of
the novel, it actually detracts from the real objective
of art.
A historical novel, in which a great deal of emphasis
is placed on the accuracy of reproduction of the setting
88
and the historical sequence, exemplifies one form whereby
interesting material may be substituted for genuine art.
A second use of this method is exemplified by the use of
symbols and abstract references. Tolstoy violently de
nounced these techniques when he discussed the works of
such poets as Baudelaire and Mallarme in What is Art?
Tolstoy did a great deal of research to present his
historic battle scenes in War and Peace with careful and
accurate detail. He was interested in the battles and may
have felt that his particular interpretation of their
resolution would "interest" the reader. Or it may be that
he felt this detail was necessary in order to re-create the
epic scenes and produce the desired emotional effect from
them. Only in this last instance could Tolstoy be absolved
of violating his own principle of presenting his art as a
medium for the communication of human emotion undiluted by
"interesting" material.
There is no real historical documentation in Anna
Karenina. It is not a historical study, but rather a study
of manners and morals of family life and personal life.
Tolstoy has been criticized for using allegorical scenes--
a device which smacks of the techniques of the symbolist
89
poets Tolstoy so aggressively assaulted--in this novel.
Several of the scenes have allegorical overtones. The most
widely discussed of these Involves a horse race. Vronsky,
striving for a cherished prize, falls In his excitement to
respond properly as his mare, Frou-Frou, hurtles the last
barrier. As Frou-Frou comes down, Vronsky's slightly mis
placed weight breaks her back. The race is lost, and
Vronsky realizes that the agonized creature on the ground
at his feet had given her best and would have won the race
if he had not failed to do his part. He who had failed was
to suffer, but she who had not failed through any fault of
her own was destroyed. Joyce Cary, analysing the structure
of the novel, objects to this scene.
Perhaps we are already uneasy. We have heard much of
Vronsky's love of this mare, of her beauty, of her high
breeding. Tolstoy describes her as a creature so sensi
tive that we wonder she can't speak. Now we see her
lying at his feet, she bends her head back and gazes at
him with her speaking eyes. The very suspicion of alle
gory destroys the validity of the scene. Suddenly the
characters become mere concepts invented to illustrate
a theme, and the theme itself a precept out of a copy
book.
Percy Lubbock objects to this scene on the same
grounds as Cary. Does the scene, however, allegorize
^"Means and Ends," Art and Reality (New York, 1958),
p . 162.
90
a dominant theme in the book? As will be suggested later
in this paper, Anna Karenina is much too complicated a
novel to rest on the thread of a single idea or theme.
True, the scene is allegorical. Its significance, though,
seems to be only a minor motif of the novel. The horse
race is presented from the point of view of Vronsky's rela
tion to his prize mare. The significance of the scene lies
in that it points up a weakness in Vronsky. His subsequent
relationship with Anna in the race she runs with conven
tional society is to parallel his relationship with Frou-
Frou in the steeplechase. All that this scene does, then,
is to delineate Vronsky's position in the unfolding of the
story.
It is suggested that Tolstoy felt that this artificial
means of character presentation was necessary in the case
of Vronsky because he was unable to sympathize with the
type of man that could play Vronsky's role. Other diffi
culties were also apparent. On one hand Tolstoy had to
characterize Vronsky as the type of man whom it was pos
sible for a superior woman like Anna to love. On the other
hand he epitomized the artificial society Tolstoy relent
lessly parodied. Small wonder the character of Vronsky
91
was not very successful. Lubbock notes this weakness In
Tolstoy*s novel although he finds greater fault because
Anna*s image is not sufficiently built up at the beginning
of the book.
It is not because Vronsky seems an inadequate object
of her passion; though it is true that with the figure
of Vronsky Tolstoy is curiously unsuccessful. Vronsky
was his one failure— there is surely no other in all his
gallery to match it. The spoilt child of the world, but
a friendly soul, and a romantic and a patient lover--
and a type fashioned by conditions that Tolstoy, of
course, knew by heart--why should Tolstoy manage to make
so little of him? It is unfortunate, for when Anna is
stirred by the sight of him and his all-conquering
speciosity, any reader is sure to protest. Tolstoy
should have created Vronsky with a more certain touch
before he allowed him to cause such a disturbance. But
this is a minor matter, and it would count for little
if the figure of Anna were all it should be. (Craft of
Fiction, p. 248)
Perhaps Tolstoy realized that his characterization of
Vronsky was extremely weak. This scene at the races, in an
allegorical way, defines Vronsky's position in relation
to the subsequent development of the novel. While tech
nicians like Percy Lubbock and Joyce Cary deplore this
scene, it is suggested, however, that the scene does not
transfer the central theme of the book into a precept out
of a copybook as Cary would have us believe. A central
theme for Anna Karenina is much more illusive than that.
Rather this device merely helps delineate one character
92
more clearly. It must be admitted, however, that tech
niques of this kind were exactly what Tolstoy condemned
when he denounced the method of introducing interesting
material in place of genuine art. Tolstoy's major objec
tion to the symbolist poets was their obscurity. To this
extent he did not imitate their error. The symbolism in
the scene at the races is presented in order to clarify,
not confuse.
Genuine Art
Individuality. In contrast to counterfeit art, the
three qualities which exemplify the genuine artist are,
according to Tolstoy, individuality, clarity, and sin
cerity. Sincerity is the most important of the three, for
Tolstoy tells us that an artist who is genuinely sincere in
his art cannot fail to express that which is peculiar to
his own personality, i.e., his individuality. Likewise an
artist who sincerely desires to convey to others the emo
tions he has felt will naturally make his feelings clear.
What qualities of individuality are to be found in
Tolctoy's Anna Karenina? Such a general question leaves
the reviewer open to take up any phase of Tolstoy's work
93
which should comnand attention. Consequently, it offers
critics an opportunity to delve into the very heart of a
work of art. In this particular study of Tolstoy, so much
has been brought to light by the approaches already treated
that this consideration of individuality only serves as a
review.
What qualities are unique in Anna Karenina or peculiar
to Tolstoy himself? The previous discussion of Tolstoy's
use of the scenic method could well be included here. It
is enough to reiterate that Tolstoy works with a great
number of vivid scenes full of color and action. By these
he conveys personal feeling. Compounding the emotional
effect of these scenes, he establishes a bond of feeling
between the reader and the character. With this scenic
approach, Tolstoy is able to present a vast amount of
material effectively.
The scope of Tolstoy's novels is one of his other dis
tinctive qualities. Anna Karenina represents a monumental
task. The subject is not of historical significance, but
the coverage of human relations is vast and intricate.
There is a detailed study of the total destruction of
Anna's brilliant personality. In contrast with this there
94
is the slow, painful integration of Levin's being. Russian
country life is contrasted with city life. The dynamics of
three marriages are presented in comparison and contrast--
so much so that Anna Karenina has been called a novel of
married life.
The scope of Anna Karenina can be measured in depth
as well as breadth. Characteristic of Tolstoy are such
questions as, "What is the meaning of life?" "What must one
do to make life worthwhile?" and "How can a man prepare for
death?" Just as Tolstoy's mind reflected an enormous pic
ture of the social patterns and manners in the world about
him, this same mind probed for answers to these more basic,
more important questions with which mankind must deal. In
his art Tolstoy answered these questions as fully and
sincerely as he was able. While many will not credit his
answers to these questions with the genius and depth of
thought that characterizes the rest of his art, they are
sincere, and have left impressions upon the minds of many
readers.
Clarity. Clarity is necessary if the writer is to
convey his feelings to his readers. There is nothing
obscure in Tolstoy's writing. He presents his material
95
in concrete and vivid scenes. These scenes are designed to
evoke the most natural and universal emotions. At his best
Tolstoy's writing is the communication of the most basic
human feelings from the writer to the reader. His is the
language of feeling.
Not all of Tolstoy's scenes have this language of
feeling. When he attacks the artificiality of society, he
resorts to irony. This irony conveys ideas rather than
feeling. It often implies that the ways of sophisticated
society are wrong because they defy clear and simple
reason. Levin finds court society incomprehensible in all
its artificiality, but Tolstoy's most direct attack on
social artificiality is embodied in his portrayal of
Princess Mayaky.
The sensation produced by Princess Mayaky was always
unique, and the secret of the sensation she produced lay
in the fact that though she spoke not always appro
priately as now, she said simple things with some sense
in them. In the society in which she lived such plain
statements produced the effect of the wittiest epigram.
Princess Mayaky could never see why it had that effect,
but she knew it had, and took advantage of it. (Anna
Karenina, p. 174)
Tolstoy's irony is sharp and it is clear. His novels
show that he places a premium on clarity. Philip Littel,
one of the few reviewers with an unkind word for Anna
Karenina, reread the novel at the age of forty-nine and
96
compared his impressions with those he had received upon
first reading the book thirty years before. At forty-nine
he was particularly impressed with two things. He felt
overly-acquainted with the characters in the novel. He
also noted that Tolstoy had carefully built up his case
against Anna's adultery. Tolstoy similarly built up his
private conviction that adultery did little harm to thor
oughly frivolous people like Oblonsky, but only deeply
affected the more genuine people like Anna. Littel's ad
verse criticism of Anna Karenina is not that the novel is
abstruse, but rather that Tolstoy may have sacrificed
honesty for simplicity and clarity.^
Sincerity. There is in Anna Karenina a passage which
shows that Tolstoy's ideas on the need of the creative
artist for genuineness and sincerity were substantially the
same when he wrote the novel as when he wrote What is Art?
Anna and Vronsky, accompanied by a friend, visit a famous
but eccentric artist, Mihailov. They are shocked to see
in his canvas, "Christ before Pilate," that he has
^"Books and Things," New Republic, 15:321, July 13,
1918. Also in Books and Things (New York, 1919).
97
represented Christ as a Jew. It had never occurred to
either of them that Christ could be anything but Russian.
This tendency to confuse the genuine with the image of
artistic tradition had been conmented upon didactically
in an earlier part of the novel when Tolstoy described
Vronsky*s potentialities as an artist.
. . . He had a ready appreciation of art, and proba
bly, with a taste for imitating art, he supposed himself
to have the real thing essential for an artist, and after
hesitating for some time \irtiich style of painting to
select--religious, historical, realistic, or genre
painting--he set to work to paint. He appreciated all
kinds and could have felt inspired by any one of them;
but he had no conception of the possibility of knowing
nothing at all of any school of painting, and of being
inspired directly by what is within the soul, without
caring whether what is painted will belong to any recog
nised school. Since he knew nothing of this, and drew
his inspiration not directly from life, but indirectly
from life embodied in art, his inspiration came very
quickly, and as quickly and easily came his success in
painting something very similar to the sort of painting
he was trying to imitate. (P. 590)
The point behind this is obvious. Tolstoy lauds the sin
cere artist and smiles patronizingly upon Vronsky who repre
sents the dilettante playing at art. Yet, does this scene
in which Anna and Vronsky are counterposed against Mihailov
ring true? Perhaps it does for a person reading Tolstoy
for the first time. That much credit may, perhaps, be
given to Tolstoy’s artistry. Those readers who are more
98
familiar with Tolstoy's strong feelings cannot fail to see
that the circumstances are at least slightly contrived to
illustrate a point just as in the case of the steeplechase
scene. In this case sincerity is the goal, but it is not
characterized by the means to the goal.
Sometimes a work of art may ring true for one man yet
sound hollow for another. Tolstoy conceived Anna as a
genuine person surrounded by an artificial environment.
Lubbock has indicated that the novel's weakness lies in the
technical way Anna is launched into her tragedy before the
reader is prepared to sympathize fully with her. Matthew
Arnold, who found little in the book he did not praise, is
not completely satisfied with Anna's character.
But if Wronsky had been even such a lover as Alci-
biades or the Master of Ravenswood, still that Anna
being what she is and her circumstances being what they
are, should show not a hope, hardly a thought, of con
quering her passion, of escaping from its fatal power,
is to our notions strange and a little bewildering.
(Men and Books, p. 252)
Arnold apologizes for this observation by saying that per
haps it comes from his English temperament. A Russian
woman might not be as inclined to self discipline as would
be an English gentlewoman. While this may be true, the
English reader of Anna Karenina is left with some doubt
99
about the moral fiber of the heroine. Tolstoy certainly
did not want to leave his readers with any such impression.
Tolstoy was sincere in his wish to study the effect an
imnoral love would have on a woman of genuine depth of
character. Was he content to be sincere in his objective
and yet allow himself the liberty to contrive the situation
as he saw fit? Is this another case of sincerity of goal
without sincerity in the means to the goal? The answer is
definitely, "No!" As a creative artist Tolstoy was sincere
in attempting to present genuine feelings and in working
out his literary scenes in the manner in which the dynamics
of the situation dictated.
That he was sincere in his art is evidenced by a per-
sonal letter wherein he admits that he, the author, was
surprised at Vronsky's attempted suicide after witnessing
old Karenin at the bedside of the seriously ill Anna. The
best analysis of this scene is made by Jozif Youzovsky.
Why does Vronsky try to kill himself? Because, like
Karenin, he is a machine, although he does not suspect it
himself. His life is rigidly guarded by a code of
decency when he falls in love with Anna. He despises
her husband as unworthy of understanding true passion.
But Karenin's outburst of tears before Anna suddenly
proves to him his own insignificance and lack of
humanity; he is ashamed. Death seems the only way of
100
justifying his pride. Tolstoy confessed that he came
upon the suicide rather unexpectedly, and did not notice
which way Vronsky's gun was pointed.*-”
Tolstoy was true to his art even when dealing with such an
unsympathetic figure as Vronsky.
There is another instance where the nature of his
material directs the resolution of a novel far from his
preconceived plan for it. In developing the rather
startling ideas which evolved from "The Kreutzer Sonata,"
Tolstoy shows that he was guided by the direction his own
creations took.
I, too, was weighed down with the same doubt when
writing "The Kreutzer Sonata." I had not the faintest
presentiment that the train of thought I had started
would lead me whither it did. I was terrified by my
own conclusion, and I was at first disposed to reject
it, but it was impossible not to hearken to the voice
of my reason and my conscience. And so, strange though
they (the thoughts Tolstoy brings forth in "The Kreutzer
Sonata") may appear to many, opposed as they undoubtedly
are to the trend and tenor of our lives, and incom
patible though they may prove with what I have hereto
fore thought and uttered, I have no choice but to accept
them. *-7
"Anna Karenina," Theatre Arts Monthly, 21:860,
November 1937. Youzovsky devotes his attention to a stage
version of Anna Karenina, but this analysis of Vronsky’s
action deals with Tolstoy's creation in the novel.
^7"Lesson of the Kreutzer Sonata," The Kreutzer Sonata
and Other Stories, trans. by Benjamin R. Tucker (New York,
1890), p. 188.
101
Tolstoy has shown himself honest to the workings of
his own art. As an artist he did not seek to reproduce
real life, but to evoke the feelings natural to real life.
This is evidenced by the freedom he has taken in modifying
events in his own life as he put them into literary form.
His proposal to Sophia Behrs, for instance, provided the
basis but not the exact scene for Levin's proposal to
Kitty. The novelist selects and rearranges his material
in order to convey the true feeling to the reader.
In selecting and rearranging his material for the
desired effect, the artist must simplify. This simplifica
tion offers an explanation to much of the criticism of Anna
Karenina offered above. Tolstoy was sincere in his artis
tic goals. As an artist he sincerely sought to work out an
honest means to those goals. The nature of his art was
such that those who do not agree with him may feel that he
has not honestly presented the whole picture. This seems
more a divergence of interpretation of life's patterns than
a condemnation of Tolstoy's sincerity. As a polemic writer
and as an art critic, Tolstoy has upon occasion "stacked
the deck" in favor of his viewpoint, but as a creative
artist he was as sincere as his conscientious nature and
penetrating mind would allow him to be.
Art for All Men
102
The nature of Tolstoy's definition of art— that it is
the process whereby one man conveys experiences he has felt
to others— presupposes that art is for all men, not just a
cultivated few. As indicated above, Anna Karenina exempli
fies Tolstoy's definition of art. It conveys a variety of
natural human feelings. Primarily, it offers the reader
a chance to share basic human emotions with the author.
Percy Lubbock indicates this broad scope of human
experience and human feeling as he characterizes the novel.
He notes that the story is not a dramatic, but a pictorial
contrast.
. . . Anna and her affair on one side of it, Levin
and his on the other. The contrast is gradually extended
and deepened through the book; but it leads to no clash
between the two, no opposition, no drama. It is an
effect of slow inevitable change, drawn out in minute
detail through two lines, with all the others that
cluster round each— exactly the kind of matter that no
body but Tolstoy with his huge hand, would think of try
ing to treat scenically. (Craft of Fiction, p. 237)
These scenes, as indicated by the analysis above, are
artistically designed to make the reader feel the emotion
aroused by the experience presented in the scene.
Tolstoy's art offers rewards to all men in all social and
intellectual strata for two reasons. First, the types of
103
feelings portrayed are basic, dealing with problems and
experiences normal to the majority of human beings. Second,
the range or scope of human feeling which Tolstoy sensi
tively comprehended and reproduced In artistic form Is
great.
Enough has been said about how Tolstoy's art encom
passes the basic problems of the meaning of life and death,
man's relation to God, and man's personal adjustment to
life. These topics indicate the extent to which the author
was concerned with universal problems. V. S. Prichett has
observed that Tolstoy dealt extensively with the problems
of married life.
Is there anything to compare with the scenes of mar
ried life at the end of War and Peace or the middle of
Anna Karenina? It is the obsession that distinguishes
them. These people are prisoners of marriage as
Lawrence's are prisoners of sex.*°
Prichett tells us that Tolstoy really had less to say
about marriage than we at first supposed. He tended to
extend his portrayals rather than intensify them. He
allowed himself to be guided by a few puritanical rules
rather than studying deeply the psychological ramifications
18
"Tolstoy's Marriage Novels," New Statesman and
Nation, 28:287, October 28, 1944.
104
of the problems. In summary, Prichett contends that while
Tolstoy was the first to detach the subject of marriage
from the rest of life, he really offered little construc
tive instruction on the subject. Also, modem novels about
marriage are really about love. Tolstoy's portrayals of
marriage, Prichett claims, are superior in this respect for
they genuinely deal with marriage.
While Prichett*s criticism of Tolstoy's portrayal of
marriage is valid, it should be remembered that Tolstoy's
purpose was not to instruct, but to convey feelings. In
this he was successful. So, too, when he portrays the
multitude of characters whose lives cross those of Anna and
Levin in the course of the story, he succeeds in bringing
their worlds into being. Each character has a world of his
own, and Tolstoy the artist is sensitive enough to capture
the feeling of each of these worlds. It seems that almost
unconsciously he is able to reveal the emotional perspec
tives of many different people.
. . . each of them is a centre of vision, each of
them looks out on a world that is not like the world of
the rest, and we know it. Without any elaborate re
search Tolstoy expresses the nature of all their ex
perience; he reveals the dull weight of it in one man's
life or its vibrating interest in another's; he shows
how for one it stirs and opens with troubling enlarge
ment, how for another it remains blank and inert.
(Lubbock, p. 238)
105
As a corollary to his contention that art should be
for all men, Tolstoy stated in What is Art? that the un
lettered peasant with his instinctive honesty and good
taste is a better judge of art than the professional
critic, a victim of the distortions and prejudices of cul
tured society. In the episode mentioned above where
Vronsky's predilection to dabble at the arts is contrasted
with the intense realism of the artist, Mihailov, it is
obvious that even at the time he wrote Anna Karenina,
Tolstoy valued naturalness and sincerity above the accepted
critical standards of sophisticated society.
Did he at this time consider the peasant wise enough
to be the art critic and pass critical judgment? The
answer is obviously in the negative although there are
evidences in Anna Karenina that Tolstoy tended to feel that
the instinctive judgment of the Russian peasant was
superior to the businesslike efficiency of the educated
nobleman. This is reflected in Levin's relationship with
his workers. For example, a large part of Levin's pre
occupation during the course of the book was with the
social and economic structures prevalent in the Russia of
his day. In an effort to satisfy his own questions as
106
to how his country could be improved, he devoted a great
deal o£ thought and energy to a study of Russia's agri
cultural inefficiency (a problem to that nation even today).
Levin as a landowner was plagued by the peasants' resist
ance to change and their inability to operate productively
without constant supervision. At the same time he showed
a great deal of respect for the ability of these men to
toil endlessly. This is particularly evident in those
memorable scenes where he spent the entire day mowing with
them. In practice Levin as a farmer was frustrated by the
obstinacy and the near-sightedness of the peasants. Yet
somehow he felt that the future of a better Russia lay with
them. Levin experienced a personal revelation of the value
and meaning of life when he heard one simple peasant utter
a few words about how a second peasant conducted himself
honorably. From the wisdom uttered by this unlettered
laborer, he received what he considered profound insight.
Yet in the closing scene of the book, levin observed that
while his guests discussed war and national destiny, the
bee keeper knew nothing of those world-shaking events.
The handsome old man, with black grizzled beard and
thick silvery hair, stood motionless holding a cup of
honey, looking down from the height of his tall figure
107
with friendly serenity at the gentlefolk, obviously
understanding nothing of their conversation and not
caring to understand it.
When asked his opinion about the war and the reli
gious issues involved therewith, Mihalitch the bee keeper
responds,
’ ’ What should we think? Alexander Nikolaevitch our
Emperor has thought for us; he thinks for us indeed in
all things. It's clearer for him to see. Shall I
bring a bit more bread?" (Anna Karenina, p. 1014)
This answer may characterize the simple natural wisdom of
the peasant, but it simultaneously makes apparent his great
limitations. Stephan Zweig tells us,
Dostoevsky said about Levin, "Such men as Levin may
live with the folk as long as they please, but they can
never become part of the folk. No powers of determina
tion, of will, or of imagination will enable a man to
accomplish his object by going down among the p e o p l e . ’ ^
An unaffected peasant-critic would be at loss to sense
the hollow ring left by scenes of affected city life in
Anna Karenina. Nor could he understand the biting irony
the novelist uses when he contrasts the affected values of
upper class society with the basic values of simple family
life. This irony backfires on the artist, for Tolstoy
would be quick to point to the life of the peasant as
19
Adepts in Self Portraiture (New York, 1929), p. 836.
108
an example of this simplicity, naturalness, and genuineness
which he advocated.
Whether one looks at the great breadth of human ex
perience represented in the pages of Anna Karenina, or at
the author's basic questions penetrating to the core of
human existence, or at the nature of life Tolstoy saw
reflected through the existence of the peasant, one ob
servation, one answer evolves:
. . . All the experience of humanity affirms that the
only satisfactory way to solve a riddle of life is to
perform one's role on the world stage as earnestly and
truly as one knows how, without pausing to consider the
incomprehensible. The Silences and the Eternities may
not be questioned without peril; the dizziness of the
Infinite is a vertigo which the mightiest minds cannot
risk without impunity. ®
The Meaning or Purpose of the Novel
In What is Art? Tolstoy renounced his major works,
including Anna Karenina. The reason he gave for this
renunciation was not expressed in precise terms. These
novels were not genuine art because they did not promote
the feeling of brotherhood for all men. Whether Tolstoy
20
Lafcadio Hearn, Essays in European and Oriental
Literature, ed. by Albert Mordell (London, 1923), p. 199.
109
felt that these novels fell short because they would not
appeal to and Infect all men, or whether he felt the
shortcoming was a lack of conscious moral purpose remains
an unanswered question.
Tolstoy specifies that all art should have a purpose
in his essay, What is Art? Does Anna Karenina have a
moral? On this question there is a tendency for literary
critics to disagree with the author himself. Aylmer Maude,
one of the most ardent early Tolstoyists, reports that
Tolstoy himself denied having a conscious moral purpose in
writing the novel.
He also told me that in writing War and Peace and
Anna Karenina his aim was simply to amuse his readers.
We are bound to accept his statement, but one has only
to read those books to see that through them Tolstoy's
ardent nature found vent, with all his likes and dis
likes, strivings and yearnings, hopes and fears.
Maude is obviously reluctant to say that Tolstoy's novels
have no moral purpose even though the author has disclaimed
any such purpose. Tolstoy's own life reflects deep concern
with life's significance and moral values. To the extent
that the art object reveals the artist, these problems are
reflected in the novel. It has already been noted that
^ Leo Tolstoy (New York, 1.918), p. 68.
110
to Tolstoy art was the process whereby feelings experienced
by the artist were conveyed to others. To the extent then
that Tolstoy was concerned with meaning and purpose in
life, it may well be argued that his novels mirror this
concern. Maude intimates this basic honesty in Tolstoy*s
work as he analyses the qualities of his art,
Tolstoy's works have from the first interested Russia,
and now interest the world, because in greater measure
than any of his predecessors he possessed the capacity
to feel intensely, note accurately, and think deeply.
His novels help to evolve order out of life's chaos owing
to his love of what is good, his marvelous power of
depiction and the scientific accuracy of observation,
which never allows him to take liberties with his charac
ters or with events in order to make out a case for the
side with which he sympathizes. He makes no pretense of
standing aloof and severing his art from his life. His
works are so truthful that the characters seem to have
an independent existence of their own. They speak for
themselves, and at times, like Balaam, bless when they
were apparently intended to curse. (Leo Tolstoy, p. 68)
Here Aylmer Maude seems to imply that truth, purpose, and
the meaning of life may be reflected both consciously and
unconsciously through his art in spite of the lack of any
intent by the novelist to superimpose a moral on his work.
Also, by implication, Maude indicates that any such moral
or purpose must necessarily be complex.
Alexander L. Nazaroff, in his voluminous Tolstoy
The Inconstant Genius, examines more carefully the problem
Ill
of extracting a single theme or moral from a work of the
magnitude of Anna Karenina.
What is the meaning of it all? Tolstoy refused to
answer this question. "If," he wrote to Strekhov, "I
wanted to sum up that which I tried to express in my
novel, I would have to write another novel, and it would
be precisely the novel I have written. . . . Every
thought expressed in words loses its sense, becomes
hopelessly cheapened, if it is amputated from the whole
of which it is a link." Indeed to tell the idea of a
work of art "in one's own words" means almost always to
make a fool out of the artist.^2
By this measure, the fact that no single and simple moral
can be found in Anna Karenina gives evidence as to the
breadth and complexity of the world Tolstoy portrayed.
George R. Noyes noted the lack of a clear theme in
Anna Karenina. He felt that this lack of clarity arose
from a confusion in Tolstoy's own nature. On one hand the
novelist was a moralist, and on the other, he was an artist
able to see the world at large. These two sides of his
nature were always at odds with one another. The character
of Stephan Oblonsky reflects this dichotomy. Tolstoy defi
nitely disapproved of Oblonsky's extra-marital conduct, yet
as an honest artist he was unable to draw this character
22
Alexander L. Nazaroff, Tolstoy The Inconstant Genius
(New York, 1929), p. 197.
1X2
with lines clearly denoting his disapproval. Host readers
cannot but like and perhaps even pity Oblonsky, and they
must feel that the author reacted similarly to this charac-
_ 23
ter.
Thomas Mann examines Tolstoy's life at the time he was
writing Anna Karenina in a historical perspective. He
notes that the novelist was in a period of transition from
the artist who created War and Peace to the moralist who
wrote My Confession. What is Art? and Resurrection.
The comnentators of 1875, Impressed by the first chap
ters of Anna Karenina as they appeared in a Russian
magazine, The Messenger, seeking benevolently to prepare
the way with the public for the naturalism of the work,
did not dream that the author was in full flight towards
an anti-art position, which was already hampering his
work on his masterpiece and even endangering its com
pletion. (Essays of Three Decades, p. 180)
The general findings of literary critics have been, then,
that Tolstoy did not consciously write Anna Karenina in an
effort to convey a moral. The sincere nature of his art,
however, makes it very possible that moral elements were
unconsciously vested in the work. Because of a number of
circumstances any such unconscious moral themes will be
only limitedly apparent to the reader.
23
George Rapall Noyes, Tolstoy (London, 1919),
pp. 190-195.
113
Literary critics usually assume there is moral sig
nificance in Anna Karenina. While in general agreement,
these critics tend to emphasize one of three general per
spectives: interpretations revolving around the tragedy of
Anna, interpretations revolving around the cruelty and
superficiality of society as contrasted against genuine and
sincere personalities such as Anna and Levin, and inter
pretations centering around Levin's quest for the meaning
of life. An examination of each of these perspectives
separately may be of value in attempting to understand the
significance of the complete picture.
Anna must be considered the central figure in the
novel which bears her name, although many readers may feel
closer to Kitty and Levin than to Anna. It would appear
that any moral or theme inherent in the structure of the
novel must concern itself centrally with her story and
tragedy.
One of the earliest reviews of Anna Karenina in
English seeks to interpret the novel in the light of the
heroine's tragedy.
. . . We must go a little beneath the surface, and
try to find out if Tolstoy had an object in this extra
ordinary delineation of human life. He does not belong
to the school of writers who let you know at once what
114
their aim Is, and where they are leading you; still It
seems as If he had been thinking of contrasting love,
considered In Its domestic aspects--legal love, If 1
may say so--observed In the family life under common,
ordinary provincial circumstances; and love as an un
controllable passion--wild, lawless, destructive of
family affections and ties, of all social rules.^
Mr. Laugel is somewhat apologetic in hazarding an early
interpretation of the novel. It Is to his credit, though,
that he perceives two basic elements which subsequent
critics were to treat extensively. The first of these is
the careful contrast in the novel of the wholesome, growing
marriage of Levin and Kitty with the illicit and gradually
deteriorating relationship between Anna and Vronsky.
Laugel's second observation is that Tolstoy carefully
analysed the effect of passion on the human personality.
This leads logically to the idea that Anna's tragedy offers
the reader a moral lesson. Tolstoy’s motto at the head of
the book, "Vengeance is Mine, saith the Lord," adds
strength to this suggestion.
It is clear that Anna has sinned by the standards of
the conventional morality of her time. Clearly, too, she
is punished. Exactly to what degree Tolstoy felt she was
^A. Laugel, "Tolstoy's New Novel," Nat ion, 41:112,
August 6, 1885.
115
the perpetrator of her circumstances rather than the victim
of them and clearly how and why she was punished are ques
tions not so easily answered. Host critics feel that she
was the victim of her own passion. (Tolstoy never
seriously seems to raise the question as to whether or not
Anna could have conquered, controlled, or escaped her pas
sion. ) Nazaroff expresses the circumstances of Anna's
passion well and adds an interpretation not inconsistent
with Tolstoy's humanitarian and basically Christian views.
. . . Her tragedy lies deeper. Passion supported by
no moral skeleton proves to be an inescapable instrument
of destruction to its bearer. Imperceptibly, like some
infernal fire, it desolates poor Anna's soul and trans
forms her into a monomaniac. (Tolstoy The Inconstant
Genius, p. 196)
Nazaroff points out that Anna's remorse over her
forced separation from her son, Serozha, her frenzy over
Vronsky's cooling affection, and her final catastrophic
death are all progressive manifestations of the transforma
tion affected by her own passion. Yet Tolstoy leaves us
with some doubt as to whether or not Anna deserved her
inevitable punishment.
"Vengeance is Mine," saith the Lord. As for the human
judge, he must know that he is not the final judge, that
he himself is a sinner, that the scale and the sword in
his hands will be a monstrosity unless, holding the scale
116
and the sword, he bows his head before the law of the
yet unfathomable mystery, and resorts to the only solu
tion open to him— to clemency and love. (Pp. 197-198)
Both Laugel and Nazaroff have stated that Anna's sin
was a violation of moral law, but their disquisitions have
implied that a relationship with society and certain uni
versal obligations to society are a part of this moral law.
This association is inescapable when Anna's life is com
pared with Levin's. As her passion causes a deterioration
of her character, she is removed further and further from
normal and wholesome relationships with those about her,
while Levin, on the contrary, as his own marriage helps him
to find himself, learns more and more to accept and to
enjoy human personalities around him.
V. P. M. Stern, in a scholarly article entitled "Effi
Briest; Madame Bovary; Anna Karenina," shows us that this
moral code which Anna has violated is rather detached from
the society pictured in the book. Though Stern does not
say this, the moral code may be Tolstoy's own abstract
notion of right and wrong— a notion with which he imbues
Anna. Stem does tell us that Tolstoy's novel is the only
one of these three stories of fallen women which deals with
the moral problem. He tells us that Anna is hopelessly
117
caught up In her tragedy and knows that she cannot fight
because she herself knows that she is wrong.
. . . Her deepest reason for refusing to fight is
that she is aware of having violated that which Tolstoy
presents to us as the greatest and widest and most
absolute law of all, the moral-spiritual law. It is
this law which Levin is trying to realize in his mar
riage and in his fretful farming activities; it is the
reason why Anna's second child— begotten by Vronsky—
can never displace Serozha from her heart; it is this
law which is at the root of all those lengthy discus
sions of the peasant question; even Alexei Karenin has
a glimpse of it once or twice; even Vronsky, though not
prepared to act on this law, not, at any rate, during
Anna's lifetime, even Vronsky is not ignorant of it.
To Anna all the world appears as one monstrous accusa
tion, one great cry for punishment. The moral law is
for her neither gently implied . . . nor is it reflected
beyond her range of awareness. It is here fully ex
pressed and fully sustained. The novel is a precise
working out, this side of transcendence, of its motto.25
In an effort to extract meaning from Anna's tragedy,
critics have characterized her as everything from a sinner
and monomaniac to a tragic heroine. James T. Farrell goes
even farther. He tells us that she is portrayed as the
most natural member of the upper classes in Tolstoy's novel
and that her story takes on almost the proportion of an
allegory.
Love, not social convenience, not social ritual, not
social codes of morals, honor, and prestige, is Anna's
25
Modem Language Review, 52:373, July 1953.
118
guide. Her tragedy is that of humanity seeking to
express the full nature of its needs to love and to be
loved in material, sensory, sexual relationships: and
this, it should be added, is sought amid a setting of
luxury.
While Farrell's statement is too strong to accept
without reservations, it indicates the general readiness
among many critics to find a thematic significance in
Tolstoy's portrayal of Anna. In contrast to those critics
who emphasize that Anna's tragedy is primarily in her
violation of the moral code, there are those who consider
that Tolstoy's emphasis in the novel is upon condemning a
synthetic society for its conduct and values because they
precipitated the fall of a noble woman. Both of these
ideas are readily observable in the novel, and the question
is one of emphasis rather than choice. Before any over-all
evaluation of the moral purpose of Anna Karenina is
attempted, it will be well to examine the literary criti
cism which approaches the novel from the view that it is
a condemnation of society. And finally the novel should be
considered from the viewpoint that it is centered around
26
"An Introduction to Anna Karenina." Literature and
Morality (Ntew York, 1947), p. 299. Italics mine.
119
the slow, spasmodic integration of the personality of
Constantin Levin.
Tolstoy certainly mocked and ridiculed conventional
society through the course of the novel. His descriptions
of Vronsky's code of honor, of Princess Betsy's place in
society, of Princess Mayaky's shocking effect on society
with her naive, but direct statements, of Vronsky's
dilettante attitude toward art as compared with that of the
genuine artist, Mihailov, or of Levin's rantings over the
futility of the political machinations of the Russian gentry
suffice to illustrate this mockery. The novelist's ani
mosity for society is important in the structure of the
novel, for the two protagonists--Anna and Levin--find them
selves obliged to work out their destinies in defiance of
the image of society presented in their own minds.
The ridicule of society in the novels is so dominant
that many critics feel that a condemnation of the sophisti
cated Russian upper class was the major purpose of the
novel. Stephan Zweig is the most articulate of these.
What I have boldly called the greatest society novel
in all literature is an anti-society novel. The Bible
text: "Vengeance is Mine, I will repay, saith the Lord,"
stands at its head. The moral momentum of the work was
certainly the desire to lash society for the cold, cruel
rebuff inflicted by it on a woman who goes astray through
120
passion but is fundamentally proud and high-minded,
Instead of leaving to God the punishment for her sins.
Indeed, society might well do just that, for after all
it is society and its irrevocable laws that God too
avails Himself of to exact the payment. It shows the
fatal and inevitable character of Anna's doom out of her
affront to the moral law. So there is a certain contra
diction in the author's original moral motive, in the
complaint he lodges against society. One asks oneself
in what way would God punish if society did not behave
as it does? Custom and morality, how far are they dis
tinguishable, how far are they— in effect— one and the
same, how far do they coincide in the heart of the
socially circumscribed human being? The question hovers
unanswered over the whole novel. (Adepts in Self-
Portraiture. p. 184)
There are other critics who agree with Zweig that Anna
Karenina is essentially an artistic study of the genuine
and honest personality who responds sincerely and candidly
to the elements of the heart and is destroyed, not for any
great moral wrong, but for defying the conventions of a
hypocritical society. While not completely agreeing with
this line of thinking, R. P. Blackmur is only a mild
heretic in this camp as he voices a rather original and
penetrating analysis of the objective of the novel. His
theory of a "dialectic of incarnation" is rather impressive
and forceful. To summarize the essentials of this theory
is to weaken his rather unique interpretation by over
simplification. In an effort to do justice to his argu
ments, this rather lengthy quotation is necessary.
121
If there is one notion which represents what Tolstoi
is up to in his novels— emphatically in Anna Karenina
and War and Peace— it is this. He exposes his created
men and women to the "terrible ambiguity of immediate
experience" (Jung's phrase in his Psychology and Reli
gion). and then, by the mimetic power of his imagination,
expresses their reactions and responses to that experi
ence. Some reactions are merely protective and make
false responses; some reactions are so deep as to amount
to a change in the phase of being and make honest
responses. The reactions are mechanical or instinctive,
the responses personal or spiritual. But both the re
actions and responses have to do with that force greater
than ourselves, outside ourselves, and working on our
selves, which whether we call it God or Nature is the
force of life, what is shaped or misshaped, construed or
misconstrued, in the process of living. Both each indi
vidual life and that life in fellowship which we call
society are so to speak partial incarnations of that
force; but neither is ever complete; thus the great human
struggle, for the individual or for society, is so to
react and so to respond to "the terrible ambiguity of an
immediate experience" as to approach the conditions of
rebirth, the change of heart, or even the fresh start.
Tragedy comes about from the failure to apprehend the
character or the direction of that force, either by an
exaggeration of the self alone or of the self in society.
That is why in Tolstoi the peasants, the simple family
people, and the good natured wastrels furnish the back
ground and the foils for the tragedy, for these move
according to the momentum of things, and although they
are by no means complete incarnations of the force behind
the momentum are yet in an equal, rough relation to it.
The others, the tragic figures, move rather by their own
mighty effort in relation, reaction, response to that
force, some with its momentum, some against it; some
falsifying it in themselves, some falsifying it in
society, but each a special incarnation of it; some cut
ting their losses; some consolidating their gains, some
balancing, some teetering, in a permanent labor of
rebirth. There is thus at work in the novels of Tolstoi
a kind of dialectic of incarnation: the bodying forth
in aesthetic form by contrasted human spirits of "the
terrible ambiguity of an imnediate experience" through
122
their reactions and responses to It. It Is this
dialectic which gives bouyancy and sanity to Tolstoifs
novels. 7
While Blackmnr's arguments are impressive and worth
consideration, there is a question of the validity of this
"dialectic of incarnation." The force of life which, he
tells us, flows through Anna Karenina is very much akin to
the moral-spiritual law characterized by V. P. M. Stern in
his article comparing Anna with Etama Bovary and Effi
Briest. There does seem to be a positive spirit flowing
through the pages of the novel. Whether this spirit may be
characterized as a moral law, Tolstoy's own sense of how
the world should be, or a life force with a current which
carries some lives to fulfillment while it submerges others
is another problem. In order to convince his readers
Blackmur must prove that this spiritual tone pervading the
novel is a life force or that Tolstoy meant that it should
be so considered. Perhaps in trying to characterize this
force completely, he has made a magnificent effort to do
the impossible!
27
"Anna Karenina: The Dialectic of Incarnation,"
Kenvon Review. 12:443, No. 3, 1950.
123
It may be that Blackmur's use of terms such as "the
dialectic of incarnation" is more to be objected to than
his analysis of the book. If by life force, he meant only
verisimilitude, that is, the rendering of life in all of
its complexity and all of its potentialities, then he is
clearly in agreement with most critics. His approach
offers an avenue for an excellent psychological interpreta
tion of the problem of the individual struggling with
passion and seeking re-adjustment to "normal life."
Like the death of Frou Frou, so it is with the pas
sions that inhabit our heroes. The passion of the force
will pass but not the force, and if the passion has not
wrecked the hero (as it does Karenin) the force will be
stronger after the passion has passed than before. That
is why the notion of purification is attached to the
passion of tragic action. Society, nature, and the indi
vidual in society and nature have three comDon arrange
ments to take care of the situation when genuine passion
has passed. (1) Outlets in the demi monde or twilight
world, (2) arrangement of cultivation of passion for its
own sake for those afraid of being otherwise occupied,
(3) arrangement where passion binds those.involved until
another passion intervenes. ("Dialectic of Incarnation,"
p. 446)
Without elaborating further, it can be seen that many
characters have made one of these three adjustments in the
novel. On the other hand Anna tried all three without
success, and Levin was unhappy because he could not bring
himself to accept any of them.
124
Apart from studying Anna Karenina from the points of
view of the tragic heroine and the role of society as the
villain, attention must be given to the part played by
Constantin Levin.
Many, attempting to see a moral in the book as a
whole, see in Levin the antithesis of Anna. Both of these
characters are placed in positions where they encounter the
basic problems of human life--love, marriage, childbirth,
and mental anguish, to name a few. While there is simi
larity in the types of experiences each encounters, the
results are violently dissimilar. Anna suffers a gradual
deterioration in character which ends in suicide. Levin,
after a series of chaotic attempts at adjustment to the
world around him, experiences a "conversion" which leaves
him content to trust in God and to love his fellow man in
spite of the many shortcomings he sees in the latter.
George Rapall Noyes in comparing Anna Karenina to War
and Peace notes that the former is the more unified (either
technically or through unconscious organization around a
moral purpose). Noyes tells us that it is difficult to
express Tolstoy's purpose with precision, but generally
it is to convey the idea that sexual relations must be
125
guided by pure Christian love, not by egotistical love of
affinity or by obligatory love of Church or society.
Tolstoy's essentially puritanical outlook, Noyes relates,
has much to do with his popularity in English-speaking
28
countries.
The story of Anna offers only a weak argument for this
over-all moral objective. The ultimate happiness of Kitty
and Levin accentuates the rewards of pure Christian love
just as the tragedy of Anna reflects the disaster of an
illicit love with its social, moral, and psychological
ramifications. The figure of Levin is necessary in con
trasting the significance of Anna's role.
James T. Farrell envisions these two characters as
prototypes representing the basic need of the human race
for love.
. . . He [Levin] stands in contrapuntal relationship
to Anna. Anna, as humanity, comes to a tragic end;
Levin, the dissatisfied nobleman, grasps an image of
humanity which permits him to go on living. In his
period of despair he feared that he would destroy him
self, and would not trust himself with a gun or a rope.
Anna does destroy herself. When she can no longer love,
she sees all of human life as motivated by hate.
(Literature and Morality, pp. 301-302)
^ Leo Tolstoy (London, 1919), pp. 187-192.
126
Farrell states a very clear contrast, but if the con
trast Is really clear, the theme should be apparent in
Anna Karenina. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately for
the literary import of the novel) there is no theme so
obvious and clear-cut.
Levin considers the possibilities of suicide, not when
he is a rejected suitor, but rather after he is happily
married, has a son, and is relatively busy trying to re
organize and improve his farm. If the story of his life
revealed a gradual integration of personality as Anna's
showed a progressive deterioration, the contrast of their
histories would be valid. Such is not the case.
Levin, after a series of experiences--marriage, birth
of a son, a deepening of personal bonds with those with
whom he has come in contact--reaches the greatest depths
of despair. His salvation in the terms of a satisfactory
adjustment to life is brought about not by a progressive
series of minor adjustments, but by a sudden inspiration or
conversion. It is true that his constant striving after
the meaning of life, his frustration after each attempt to
find an intellectual answer to the meaning and purpose of
ir
life, and his experience at the bedside of his dying
127
brother may have conditioned him so that he could find this
answer. Similarly his happy marriage and the birth of his
son may have been factors which kept him from taking his
life when he was drawn to do so. The fact remains, how
ever, that the contrast presented by the lives of Anna and
Levin does not afford a clear-cut moral. While Anna's
deterioration is the result of a series of actions each
leading her progressively farther from the basic honesty of
her earlier nature, Levin's personal integration is the
result of one revelatory experience of the same nature that
Tolstoy was later to describe in his autobiography.
Herein lies the secret. Tolstoy defined art as the
process whereby one man through external symbols transmits
to others feeling which he has experienced. In Anna
Karenina the Russian master has accomplished exactly this.
Tolstoy's whole emotional nature was thrilled by the
realization of the beauty of the unquestioning faith in God
of a simple, honest though unlettered peasant. He re
created this emotional experience in his book. This one
experience changed his way of thinking about the problem
of life and, consequently, gave his life a new direction.
Similarly, in the novel this one experience changes Levin's
128
life. The beauty of simple unquestioning faith in God
gives his life a new direction--a new theme. As his life
takes on a new theme, quite by accident, so does the entire
novel, Anna Karenina.
What does all this add up to? Those who would insist
that the whole constitutes more than the sum of its parts
are hard-pressed to show that all the details fit into a
logical thematic pattern. Tolstoy has told us that he did
not write this novel to moralize or to illustrate a theme.
Just as in life a series of general truths can be drawn
from a series of complex human experiences, certain gener
alities may be gleaned from the experiences portrayed in
Anna Karenina. Yet, in life no one can find a single rule
that satisfies the searching mind as an answer for the
multitude of possible human experiences. So, too, in Anna
Karenina, no single moral theme is set forth as the answer
to the meaning of life. Perhaps Tolstoy himself for a time
thought he had found the answer. Levin feels this (Is it
a self-delusion?) at the close of the novel. Tolstoy is a
successful artist by his own, subsequent definition of art,
because his readers are indeed infected with the feeling
that the wonderful search for the meaning of life has ended
129
in consummate satisfaction.
A glance at Tolstoy's subsequent biography shows that
he did not end his days in blissful, unobstructed happiness.
That he had found the answer of answers was an illusion.
So, too, Levin's experience was in a large part illusory.
While the reader may share with Levin the feeling that a
deep problem of life has been solved, a glance at the work
of literary critics suffices to show that they cannot
express exactly what answer has been offered for what prob
lem. As an artist Tolstoy has accomplished what he was
later to consider the primary function of the artist. He
transmitted feelings--not ideas. It is the infectiousness
of these feelings, not the idealism of high-sounding con
ceptual precepts, that draws man closer to his fellow men.
It is true that certain ideas are apparent, though
no single Idea ties the entire book together. The story of
Anna illustrates the psychological deterioration precipi
tated by feelings of guilt brought about as the result of
a conscious violation of moral law. Her story also illus
trates how a genuine person who follows the dictates of her
heart will be injured by an unfeeling, hypocritical society
which is no better, but more pretentious than she. In this
130
sense society is characterized as the very opposite of
genuine and honest. Yet this society, wicked In Itself,
seems to be God's Instrument used to punish Anna for her
violation of moral law. Levin's life Is composed of a
series of episodes similar In their general nature to the
type that Anna experiences. The courses run by each result
In the undoing of Anna and the rehabilitation of Levin.
It is dangerous to draw a closer comparison of the lives of
the two. Made emotionally aware of the deep implications
and ramifications of the simple unquestioning faith of the
Russian peasant, Levin undergoes a conversion experience of
a rich, religious, Christian nature. His life is reoriented
around a new theme. The novel, quite by accident, reflects
this same theme to some degree, but it is not the theme of
the book as a whole upon which all else rests. As Tolstoy
wrote, he sought to entertain by re-creating life. He
succeeded in this. Life exemplifies a variety of natural
laws and themes. So does Anna Karenina.
CHAPTER III
GERMINAL
Introduction and General Observations
An examination of one of Tolstoy's novels in the light
of his own critical precepts has proved rewarding. To
inspect 6mile Zola's work in the same manner offers con
siderable confusion. Zola's discourses on naturalism,
especially The Experimental Novel, were the subject of ex
tensive literary debate during his lifetime. As was only
natural, critics examined his novels in the light of his
pronouncements on naturalism. This process led them away
from any objective and accurate assessment of Zola's work
rather than enlightening them as had been hoped. This
paper will show that Zola's critical writings were basi
cally insincere. For this reason an examination of one of
Zola's novels in the light of critical precepts formulated
by Tolstoy should be especially valuable. Tolstoy's in
sistence on standards for art offers a better approach
131
132
to Zola'8 work than did Zola's own naturalistic tenets
because the latter came nearer the technique of modem
advertising than sincere literary criticism.
The Experimental Novel was the early bible of natural
ism. In this essay Zola sought to make creative writing
a science. He patterned his approach after the writings of
Claude Bernard, a doctor, who was concerned with changing
the practice of medicine from an art to a science. To do
this he emphasized the qualities of objectivity and the use
of the experimental method. Zola reasoned that just as a
doctor dealt with the personal ills of human beings, novel
ists should deal with social ills of men as a group. The
novelist, too, should transform his discipline into a
science.
Zola’s theory was particularly interesting in that it
predated any formal recognition of the discipline of soci
ology. He asserted that the novelist could aid social
progress through clinical experimentation. Specifically,
a novelist could set up a test situation--place his charac
ters in a situation subject to certain social and environ
mental pressures, observe honestly how they should respond
according to known laws of human behavior, and through
133
detailed and extensive observation, actually formulate new
laws of human behavior. In a sense, then, Zola felt that
the characters, not the author, write the novel.
Using this "experimental method" Zola launched into
the major project of his life, the Rougon Macquart series
of novels. This project was to trace the lives of one
family, the descendants of the neurotic Tante Dide, as they
made their way through the various areas of France and the
various levels of French society during the Second French
Qnpire.
A look at Zola's method of writing helps to evaluate
his theory. He evolved this procedure by chance while com
posing the serial Les Hvstferes de Marseille. In a letter
to the Italian writer, Edmondo de Amicis, he says,
I make a novel in this way; or rather I don't so much
make it as leave it to make itself. I can't invent hap
penings; that kind of factual imagination is wholly
lacking in me. . . . So I never worry about the subject.
I start work on my novel without knowing what is going
to take place, nor what characters will be involved, nor
how these will begin or end. The only one I am aware of
is my main character, Rougon or Macquart. . . . I think
only about his nature, and the family into which he was
bom, and his first impressions, and the social group
I have arranged for him to live in. . . .
After the period of incubation and fact-gathering,
I would set to work to link up all my miscellaneous facts
and ideas. This nearly always takes a long time and I
treat it as a matter of routine, using logic rather than
imagination. . . . I look for the immediate consequences
134
of each smallest incident, as they follow logically from
where there is only one more link to be made and the
direct result of some action ought to be obvious, yet
I can't see it. . . . If that happens, I stop thinking
about it, because I know it's a waste of time. . . .
Then, one fine day, when I'm at lunch or thinking of
something quite different, the link comes of itself . . .
and the whole novel is illumined. . . .1
It is easy to see how Zola's theory of the experi
mental novel could proceed from his method of composition
rather than vice versa. In his actual writing, he mistook
the creative work of his subconscious mind for logic. It
is to be remembered that Tolstoy, when writing to an
acquaintance, admitted that he was surprised that Vronsky
attempted to commit suicide after the scene at the bedside
of the gravely ill Anna Karenina. In this particular
instance Vronsky seems to act in spite of, rather than
according to, his creator's guiding hand (see Chapter II,
pp. 99-100 of this paper). Both Zola and Tolstoy on occa
sion found themselves inmersed in the same type of creative
experience. Is this creative experience clinically objec
tive?
Flaubert said once to Feydeau: "You'll see how well
your characters will speak, as soon as you don't speak
^Armand Lanoux, Zola, trans. by Mary Glascow (London,
1955), pp. 99-100.
135
by their mouths.” But Flaubert, by this criticism, only
meant to preserve the objectivity of the novelist. Zola,
pushing the precept to the limit, sacrifices this objec
tivity to the life of the characters which alone remains
on the scene, completely absorbing that of the author.^
To us today, it is almost a truism to say that Zola,
when he was writing his novels, was not conducting an
objective scientific experiment. Yet for many years his
literary theory was the subject of hot debate. As natural
ism found its way into the literatures of France and Ger
many, particularly, many literary critics of the new school
sided with Zola. At the same time many men of letters who
disliked naturalism or were merely well enough trained in
science to see the fallacy of Zola's theory, printed their
vehement objections to the imposition of this theory on the
public. Also, as often as not, Zola's novels were measured
by the degree to which they illustrated his theory.
Naturalism according to Zola's precepts was a fiery sub
ject.
Yet the fire burned out of its own accord. Writing
in 1909, Harry Thurston Peck stated that had Zola died
fifteen years earlier than he did, the controversy of
2
Henri Barbusse, Zola, trans. by Mary Balairdie Green
and Frederick C. Green (London and Toronto, 1932), p. 100.
136
the "experimental novel" would have been rekindled.
. . . But in 1902 the note of Interest In that bygone
controversy was no longer sounded, even as a reminis
cence. . . . The intervening years have long ago deprived
his theory of even its piquant flavour of originality.
His belief that literature is comparable, not to painting
or sculpture or music, as the case may be, but to anatomy
and physiology; that the novelist Is a demonstrator; that
his study is a laboratory; and that he can, by observa
tion and research, illumined by imagination, arrive at
new and unsuspected truths possessing scientific interest
and artistic value--all these assertions were whistled
down the wind so long before his death as to make the
simple statement of them now appear preposterous.3
The Experimental Novel was not as dead as Peck thought
it was. A good many critical articles written after 1909
incorporate it into an evaluation of Zola's novels.
Matthew Josephson's voluminous Zola and His Time emphasized
Zola's conscious dishonesty in his critical pronouncements.
Josephson quotes a hithertofore unpublished letter from
Zola to Henri Ceard. The second paragraph of the letter
reads as follows:
The second point is my lyrical temperament, my exag
geration of the truth. You have known about that for a
long time. You are not astonished, like the others at
finding in me a poet. Only I should have liked to see
you take apart the workings of my eye. I exaggerate
certainly, but not as did Balzac, nor does Balzac exag
gerate as did Hugo. We all lie more or less, but what is
2
"finile Zola," Studies in Several Literatures (New
York, 1909), pp. 201-202.
137
the mechanism and the mentality of our lying? For— and
perhaps I deceive myself here— I feel that I, for my part,
work in the direction of truth. I have a hypertrophy for
the true detail, the starry leap from the springboard of
exact observation. Truth shows a bit of its wing almost
as a symbol. . . . There will be much to say about all
this some day. . . .
This admission from Zola's own pen indicates that he was
aware that his novels lacked the scientific objectivity his
critical articles claimed for them.
Josephson presented further evidence that Zola did not
consider his major novels as clinical experiments during
their inception, but later created the technique to account
for the accomplished product.
Henry Ceard, the friend of Zola's later years, vowed
that he called the novelist's attention to the ideas of
Claude Bernard, for the first time in 1876. Bernard's
doctrines seem absolutely essential to the formulas which
Zola evolved between 1877 and 1881. Yet L'Assomnoir
and other most "Naturalistic" novels had been created
before this time. These works were by no means built up
out of "whole cloth." They were imagined and written
first; the "campaigns for Naturalism" came second, bom
no doubt of the complacent notion of making a literary
religion of his personal tastes. Thus Claude Bernard
was adopted and pressed into the "system." Very impor
tant, as we shall see. (Josephson, p. 243)
Germinal, however, was published in 1885. This date was
nine years after Zola began his "campaign for naturalism."
^Matthew Josephson, Zola and his Time (New York,
1928), p. 298.
138
In fact, he personally dramatized his method in preparing
to write Germinal. His exploration of the Anzin mines was
done with considerable fanfare. Zola cleverly convinced
his public that Germinal was the classical example of the
"Experimental Novel."
Josephson comments on Zola's machinations from a dif
ferent perspective in light of another passage from a
letter to Ceard.
"First I place a nail, and then with a stroke of the
hammer, I drive this nail an inch into the brain of the
public; then with another stroke I make it go another
inch. And my hammer is journalism which I simply let
play all around my books. . . ."
He fought through the long years for his doctrines
and his school, while knowing the vanity, the vulnera
bility of them; "thus resembling," as Ceard observes,
"one of those apostles of Renan's books, who die for a
faith of whose illusory character they have long been
undeceived." (P. 244)
Perhaps partly out of vanity, but certainly also out of
practicality, Zola for many years stirred the controversy
centering around his theory of the experimental novel.
His books were controversial; his critical articles, more
so. The latter stimulated many to read the former. Zola
was a writer of best sellers. He had a flair for adver
tising. He deceived the critics and the public with his
literary criticism. During the years that he trumpeted
139
the experimental novel, it did not occur to literary
critics to look at his individual works for what they
were--curious mixtures of realism and romanticism. The
Experimental Novel actually retarded rather than assisted
worthwhile criticism of Zola's work. How, then, will
a work like Germinal lend itself to analysis through
Tolstoy's What is Art?
Bnotional Experience in Zola's Art
Six years after the publication of Germinal Zola wrote
of a personal experience:
It was at the end of one of Charpentier's parties
that I heard Yvette. It was already late, but she kept
us in a great state of excitement until two in the morn
ing. . . . And she brought to life an entire world, part
real, part fantasy, with that quality of special emphasis
that is the essence of artistry. I have never realized
so clearly that a great artist is simply one who is able
to express what she feels and gives it to her public.
(Lanoux, p. 203)
This passage is remarkable because the last sentence seems
to touch the heart of Tolstoy's definition of art. Yet in
the preceding sentence is to be found the essence of Zola's
artistry. It would be convenient to point to this passage
as evidence and state that Zola felt, as Tolstoy did, that
art is an activity whereby one person conveys to others
140
emotions he has experienced. Too, there are episodes In
Dr. Pascal, the last novel of the Rougon Macquart series,
which many critics feel are based on Zola's own romance
with Jeanne Roseret. (See Lanoux, pp. 169-170.) This
evidence would indicate that later in his life Zola might
have been willing to accept the basic definition of art as
Tolstoy formulated in What is Art?
There is little in Germinal to indicate that Zola had
this conception in 1885. It is true that he investigated
coal mines and mining conditions, but he never really en
dured the privations of his characters. In his youth he
had become acquainted with the pangs of hunger, and in his
early years in Paris he learned to live on a near-starvation
wage. Yet to say that Zola re-created his own experiences
through the characters of Etienne, Maheu, or Catherine
would be absurd.
Emotion is conveyed through the pages of Germinal and
through all of Zola's novels. Yet the experience which
provokes the emotion is usually as vicarious to the author
as it is to the reader. The role of sex in his novels
seems to prove this. Armand Lanoux has observed, "After
Zola's affair with Jeanne Roserat, physical passion had
141
entered his life, and by the same token It disappeared from
his books" (p. 173). Bnotion plays a large part in Zola's
literary creativity. It is emotion derived at least in
part from vicarious experience. This is important in
analysing the basic qualities of Zola's art.
In view of the evidence presented above it is impos
sible to accept Zola's assertion that his creative writing
is a scientific experiment. As we are cognizant of the
procedure he used in producing his novels, it may be fair
to use the statement another naturalistic writer made in
expressing the purpose of his own art. "I write novels as
part of an attempt to explore the nature of experience."-*
This statement of the naturalistic novelist's purpose is
not as presumptuous as Zola's. Yet it contains the basic
ingredient of searching and inquiry without claiming scien
tific objectivity.
Zola, like Tolstoy, was able to create emotion by
presentation of just the right detail. He creates the
romance between Etienne and Catherine with so little effort.
How is this done? The first seventy pages of the novel
^James T. Farrell, "Some Observations on Naturalism,
So-Called, in Fiction," Antioch Review. 10:258, June 1950.
142
describe Etienne's Impressions of the Montsou mine from the
time he asks for work until he has completed one full work-
ing day in the pit. The bulk of this section is devoted
to rigors, hardships, and dangers of work in the mine. In
these seventy pages Zola makes five brief references to
✓
the fact that Etienne and Catherine are conscious of each
other.
First, she is amused that he mistakes her for a boy.
Second, she is not as amused the second time he makes
the mistake. Cramped together in their descent in the
cage, he says,
"What have you got under your skin that makes you so
warm? I've got your elbow in my stomach. ..."
What a donkey he was to go on taking her for a boy!
Had he got his eyes bunged up, or what? She burst out:
"I'll tell you where you've got my elbow--in your
eye."
At this time there was a general storm of laughter
which quite mystified the young man.
Third, their awareness of each other is heightened by
the sensual--an element that is probably too basic in
Zola's work.
6'
Bnile Zola, Germinal, trans. by L. W. Tancock (Balti
more, 1954), p. 44.
143
As he turned round, Etienne once more found himself
pressing against Catherine. But this time he became
aware of the curve of her young breast, and suddenly
understood.
"So you are a girl?" he murmured in amazement.
She replied in her gay straight-forward way:
"Yes, of course! What a time it has taken you to
find out!" (Germinal, p. 47)
Fourth, she shares her lunch with him. He watches her
drinking from the common flask.
Suddenly he wondered whether he should seize her in
his arms and kiss her. Her tull, pale pink lips, set
off by the coal, teased him with a growing desire. But
he dare not--she made him feel shy. (P. 56)
Fifth, the same feeling has been aroused in Chaval.
Ignoring Etienne he seizes Catherine and kisses her.
Although she resists and repulses him, the episode angers
/
Et ienne.
A cold shudder ran through £tienne. What a fool he
was to have waited! But now he certainly would not kiss
her, for it would probably look as though he wanted to
do the same as the other fellow. (P. 59)
In these five brief references, the love affair
between £tienne and Catherine has been established. Even
the third party in the triangle, Chaval, has been put in
the picture. While the love affair between Etienne and
Catherine was to remain a pure one until shortly before her
death, Zola presents the relationship in terma of brief,
sensual details. The episodes seem designed to heighten
144
the emotions of the reader more than they do the emotions
of the participants.
Through use of concrete detail and specific actions,
Zola creates a vicarious type of emotional experience--
experience based on the material and sen&ual side of life.
This technique is used through the general narrative por
tion of his novels as well as through certain heightened,
romanticized, almost poetical passages, such as the
description of the mob scene in Germinal. Angus Wilson
distinguishes between these two types of composition.
The first was always informed with intellectual con
trol, checked by carefully collected observations from
outside sources, subordinate to the narrative and formal
demands of the novels. The second was a more powerful,
concentrated, almost intuitive observation, which, how
ever apparently disconnected with the surface theme of
the novel in hand, had for Zola a deeper, more sub
conscious relation to it. Certain sounds, smells, sights
would strike a response in him which made them a total
pictorial symbol of the general theme on which he was
engaged.'
This second type of composition referred to by Wilson
is an almost poetical combining, coordinating, and subordi
nating of details into exceedingly powerful prose. The
nature of this prose is modified by a poetical quality
^Angus Wilson, Emile Zola: An Introductory Study of
his Novels (New York, 1952), p. 58.
145
which is largely metaphorical. Zola departs from his objec
tive observations rather easily with a well-calculated
metaphor or simile which gives life to the inanimate. As
Etienne descends Le Voreau for the first time, Zola imbues
him with the capacity to observe his experiences in a
rather imaginative context.
There was only one thing he did see clearly: the pit
gulped men down in mouthfuls of twenty or thirty and so
easily that it did not seem to notice them going down.
. . . Like some nocturnal beast the cage, with its four
decks each containing two tubs, leaped noiselessly up
out of the darkness and settled Itself on its keeps.
(Germinal, p. 37)
The two sentences above exemplifying Zola's use of
metaphor and simile show how far his incorporation of con
crete and specific detail can depart from the scientific
objectivity implied in The Experimental Novel. This is
true whether Zola describes the scene omnisciently or
through the eyes of his central character. Zola's goal was
not to conduct a clinical experiment as he wrote, but
rather to create emotion. He would animate or personify
the central theme or a central symbol in his book. In
Germinal the poem of the mob illustrates the first of these
while his description of the pit, Le Voreau, exemplifies
the second.
146
Objective descriptions become subordinated to subjec
tive descriptions. Individual characters become subordi
nated to the central theme or idea of the book.
To make his characters swarm, and to make the great
central thing they swarm about "as large as life," por
tentously, heroically big, that was the task he set
himself very nearly from the first, that was the secret
he triumphantly mastered. Add that the big central
thing was always some highly representative institution
or industry of the France of his time, some seated
Moloch of custom, of commerce, of faith, lending itself
to portrayal through its abuses and excesses, its idol-
face and great devouring mouth, and we embrace the main
lines of his attack.
Zola's prose, then, is a romantic, creative, trium
phant endeavor to impart strong emotion to his readers.
His method, though marvelously effective, is rather blunt.
As a man, Zola has been lauded for his devotion to his
labor and for his courage. Benedetto Croce and Martin
Tumell have both indicated that though Zola possessed
these two qualities, he lacked any great mental brilliance.
Zola's perceptions were not necessarily astute and pene
trating. Rather they were forceful. His bluntness of
method and simplification of perspective gave his writing
an almost primitive force.
Q
Henry James, Notes on Novelists (New York, 1914),
p. 43.
147
Zola is no more psychological than Taine and shows
characters formed and unchanging, not In the process of
growth. "Zola's very leaning toward the portrayal of
the essential, the universally valid, that which is as
little variable as possible, drives him to shut out from
the mental life the highest emotional life and the finest
intellectual life as something which is not there, in
which he seems hardly to believe. . . . He loves to stick
to the simple basic impulses and the simplest psycho
logical conditions." His pessimism "works with this
tendency" and he "simplifies and reduces," until for
example, art becomes, in L*Oeuvre. simply an "eternal
torture." This tendency to simplify leads him "to that
which is representative, so that a single working-man
represents the working class.9
This simplification may have given Zola's early critics the
impression that he was being scientifically objective.
Actually, the opposite was true. Zola oversimplified his
literary creations and placed them in situations where a
more limited number of responses were available than are
actually available in real life. His novels, through
illustration and calculated emotion, present his own themes
with fundamental force.
In sunxnary Zola’s art is the process of creating emo
tion, usually vicarious to both author and reader, through
the careful selection of material and sensual detail.
Winthrop H. Root, German Criticism of Zola 1875"1893
(New York, 1931), p. 80, In the passage quoted, Hr. Root
is summarizing and quoting in part the critical insights
George Brandes offered about 1890 toward a more complete
understanding of the French novelist.
148
This Is exemplified by his general narrative passages and
also by his more poetical passages where the process is
intensified by the use of simile and metaphor thus giving
inanimate objects and collective groups of people certain
basic animal qualities. Subordination of accurate detail
to romantic comparison and simplification of material are
the two techniques that give Zola^ writing its fundamental
power.
Counterfeit Art Versus Genuine Art
Counterfeit Art
Borrowing from literature and tradition. Tolstoy was
relatively free from the influence of the literature and
literary tradition of his time. His talent was developed
from a base of folklore and other manifestations of the
simplest, clearest, and most fundamental forms of human
art. To Tolstoy the influences of other literature and of
literary tradition were factors which hindered the artist
from accomplishing his purpose--to convey to his fellow men
through the form of his art emotions he had experienced.
Zola, who, according to Armand Lanoux, "was obsessed
with the thought that he had had the misfortune to be born
149
at the confluence of Balzac and Hugo" (p. 87), was less
Individual in his art. In fact he was probably one of the
most conscious of all authors in regard to his chronologi
cal position in the flow of literary tradition. Bom in a
century which had seen the rise and waning of the Romantic
Movement and its subsequent replacement by realism, Zola
extended the tenets of realism to their logical extreme,
naturalism. While he proclaimed naturalism to the four
winds, he was consciously covering up the romantic aspects
of his own work (see pp. 137-138). If there was a certain
amount of insincerity in Zola's continued propagation of
the theory of naturalism, this indicates that he was not
excessively influenced by literary tradition or duped by
his own theories. Yet both literary influence and his own
naturalistic theories undoubtedly affected his writing,
and when he rose above them, he employed a rather impres
sionistic technique (as for instance in the mob scene in
Germinal) which in turn at least suggests the influence of
several painters, Monet, Manet, and Paul Cezanne, all
acquaintances of his.
The early creative efforts of Zola were influenced by
specific works. Lanoux tells us:
150
If La Confession de Claude derived from Musset,
Therfese Raquin owed much to Zola's admiration for the
Goncourt brothers’ masterpiece, Germinie Lacerteux.
But the basic influence was Taine’s. (P. 82)
Zola numbered a good many writers and painters among his
associates. Two of his biographers, Matthew Josephson, in
his Zola and his Times, and Armand Lanoux, in his Zola.
document these contacts and to some degree speculate on how
they may have conditioned his creative efforts. Josephson
relates Alphonse Daudet’s account of a dinner attended by
Flaubert, Huysmans, de Maupassant, Edmond de Goncourt, and
Zola (pp. 190-201). This was the beginning of a series of
weekly meetings which was on the occasion to include
Turgenev and Henry James (p. 217). Lanoux, presenting
Zola’s biography at least partially in a novelistic style,
traces a strong boyhood friendship between Zola and Paul
Cezanne (pp. 20-53). Through Cezanne he was to meet the
painters Monet and Manet. Lanoux speculates that enroute
home from an evening of stimulating conversation with some
of the aforementioned writers and painters, Zola mentally
projected his plans for the Rougon Macquart series. Among
his most poignant considerations is an awareness of the
similarity of the structure of his undertaking with that
of Balzac’s Cornedie Humaine. Zola notes that he must not
151
imitate Balzac too closely (Lanoux, pp. 118-124). There
can be no doubt but that Zola associated with a great many
of the creative artists of his time. While further docu
mentation of these influences on Zola would be tedious,
these observations by two scholars, Lanoux and Josephson,
should be enough to indicate the critical consensus that
such influences exist.
Elliot M. Grant has written an article entitled, "Con
cerning the Sources of Germinal," which attests Zola’s debt
both to literary sources and his personal research.
Grant1s summary paragraph follows:
In Germinal the part played by observation and docu
mentation is unquestionably important, more so, in my
opinion than imitation of any literary source. Guyot's
novel may have provided Zola with a few ideas and
details, but, as Mile. Frandon has pointed out, it was
possibly even more useful in showing him pitfalls to be
avoided. On the other hand it is incontestable that
Zola made extensive use--quite legitimately— of tech
nical information obtained from Simonin, Dormoy, and
Boens-Boisseau. He also gathered much material on the
economic situation, socialism, the labor movement, from
the works of Laveleye, Leroy-Beaulieu, Testut, and
Guyot. From La Gazette des Trlbunaux he picked up
colorful details--more colorful than the Anzin strike
of 1884 happened to provide--which he could doubtless
have invented if necessary, but which by their very
reality, lent authenticity to his book. Truth, in this
case, conveniently supported verisimilitude. The same
can be said of Zola's personal observations at Anzin.
152
His knowledge of the area— its geography and its socio
logical phenomena--gave substance to his narrative.10
The number of these sources is sufficient to indicate that
Zola was eclectic. His sources were his tools, not he
theirs.
Tolstoy's objection to a writer’s use of other liter
ary works was that this practice detracted from genuine
art— the transferral of personal experience. Zola’s con
ception of the form art should take differed from Tolstoy's
primarily as to the use that might honestly be made of
vicarious experience. This brief examination of the in
fluences of other works of art and the influence of liter
ary tradition upon Zola emphasizes two points: (1) Zola's
conception of art differed from Tolstoy's in that the
former did not feel that art must necessarily re-create
personal experiences; and (2) while Zola was acutely aware
of many influences and made free and selective use of
available material that served his purpose, he was indi
vidual enough to rise above his material, using those
sources that served his immediate and individual purpose
^Romantic Review. 49:177-178, October 1958.
153
while not meditating excessively on factors which were of
no use to him--a contradiction to his so-called scientific
approach.
Imitation of real life. According to the tenets of
The Experimental Novel Zola attempted to set his characters
in experimental or "real life" situations and observe their
reactions. The dynamics of the situation and the nature of
the characters were to combine to bring about the resolu
tion of the situation. This resolution was the creative
part of Zola’s art, though he did not acknowledge it as
such.
When Tolstoy criticized the imitation of real life in
art, he was concerned with the writer or painter who repro
duced a scene or object in the exact manner and detail as
he had witnessed it. Tolstoy held that the artist must
change the manner, detail, and form in an effort to pre
serve the original emotional effect.
In Zola's novels the manufactured situation produces
an effect upon the writer which stimulates him, perhaps on
a subconscious level, to create a resolution. This resolu
tion is not the matter-of-fact reporting of a logical
cause-and-effect situation. Rather it is a response
154
fraught with emotion as in the poem of the mob in Germinal.
A series of situations built up through the course of the
book made the mob scenes seem almost inevitable. The
reader feels and perceives this inevitability. In the
course of the violence itself, Zola, supposedly, is still
observing his characters. The violence is infectious, and
even the more level-headed leaders of the mob— fitienne,
Maheu, and La Maheude--are guilty of acts which would shame
them at any other time. Neither is the reader an im
personal observer. Zola's forceful, elemental style
imparts feeling as well as Information. The poem of the
mob infects the reader with the same emotions that incite
the miners to violence. This infectiousne::? is synonymous
with the basic quality of Tolstoy's art.
Zola is not reporting, but creating. The emotional or
infectious quality of his writing attests to this. His
creative powers probably did not come as easily as did
Tolstoy's, for his work on occasion appears contrived.
Sometimes he was forced to rely upon mechanical methods
when the great Russian could create instinctively. This is
true in the development of the individual scene more than
in the over-all structure of his novels. V. S. Pritchett
relates:
155
. . . It Is said that he has no natural power of
observation; he relied on learned facts and when a piece
of observation Is put In to clinch a picture— the woman
coming with her children In order to amuse them with the
sight of the riot, another woman stopping and restarting
her work at the sink while she quarrels, so that potato
peeling goes on half the morning, the soldier blinking
just before he Is provoked to fire at the mob . . . It Is
wonderful In Its effect because It Is exact. Zola's
ability to describe the movements of crowds Is due to the
fact that unlike natural observers, he had to study them
and is therefore not carried away.^-1
Critics will agree that Zola's creation of the individual
scene is often mechanical in execution by the selection of
just the right detail. There has been a series of critical
disputes as to whether Zola wrote well or badly. In
general more recent critics agree that his work was spotty.
He was able to create magnificent scenes on occasion, while
minor scenes were often carried off poorly.
Perhaps Zola had difficulty at times with the indi
vidual scene, but his use of a composite of scenes to
create a greater over-all effect is exceptional. His
ability to picture a group by describing several individual
members and his ability to combine his scenes and chapters
into a unified and intense emotional impact seem parallel
qualities. Angus Wilson assessed Zola's technique of
^ New Statesman and Nation. 21:188, February 22, 1941.
156
building up emotion:
. . . His cuts into society were, in general, hori
zontal and not vertical. Within these horizontal
sections, he planned each succeeding chapter as a sepa
rate step in the progressive logic of the whole. His
own words describe this method very exactly: "Instead
of the flowing analysis of Balzac, establish fourteen or
fifteen powerful masses, within this framework analysis
may be made step by step, but always from above. Every
body in the world analyses in detail nowadays, I must
react against this through the solid reaction of masses,
of chapters, through the logic, the thrust of the chap
ters, succeeding each other like superimposed blocks; by
the breath of passion animating all, flowing from one
end to another of the work." Logical steps fused into
a whole by passion, and by another quality which he does
not mention, acute atmospheric sensitivity. A solidly
established formal scheme given movement by emotional
force and life by shiranering atmosphere--an Impressionist
painting of the highest order. It is not "Naturalism"
but impressionistic technique which explains Zola's
greatness, (finile Zola, pp. 54-55)
Zola's mechanical technique of using the individual to
portray the general succeeds not only in heightening the
emotional effect of the novel but in giving meaning to the
forces represented by the separate characters. Matthew
Josephson says:
Germinal has been accepted justly as one of the superb
examples of the document-novel of the nineteenth century.
It is perfect as well, in representing the philosophy
which Zola avowed; man as the pawn of mechanical forces
(here economic), the thing, primarily of his age and his
social environment. Individual actions, individual
destinies, hold their place only in a larger, more uni
versal scheme of actions and reactions; they are part, in
short, of a larger and general fate. Thus his principal
157
characters are threaded skillfully Into the mass move
ments of his epic novel. Among the miners, sublimated
in rare moments above the instinct of reproduction, love
struggles against squalor and implacable circumstance:
among the bourgeois, he places by contrast the scenes of
a closet-drama, a cuckolding going on behind doors closed
to besieging insurrectionists: "individual suffering
posed against or accompanied by the eternal injustice of
the classes,** to use Zola's own words. (Zola and his
Times, p. 296)
It is rather obvious that Zola controls his material
to produce ideas and feelings rather than merely to imitate
objective reality. It Is possible that he is so selective
in his detail that the world he depicts in his novels is
oversimplified and consequently unreal (although it does
not leave a reader with the immediate impression of being
unreal). Angus Wilson shows how Zola was able to isolate
the mining community and focus it alone under his micro
scope. This isolation adds to the symbols and emotional
force of the book but narrows the boundaries wherein the
search for truth may be conducted.
If the unity of time which he tried to preserve in
face of the demands of realism was a handicap, his unity
of locality was a source of strength. Only by confining
the movements of his characters was he able to build up
the overpowering, inescapable atmosphere, the sense of
hopeless imprisonment by which he holds the reader. Each
group of characters is shown within its own district, the
very buildings and streets of which seem filled with the
clashes of will, the frustrations of lust, the hopeless
creeping decay of the lives within them. For the poor
158
this geographical prison is a symbol not only of their
submerged lives but of their ignorance, the isolation to
which the prudence of society has consigned them lest
their infection should spread. (Wilson, p. 64)
Edouard Rod, writing at the turn of the century, saw
clearly how this simple directness of Zola's was at once
his strength and his weakness:
. . . perhaps by widening his circle of observation,
he would have come to asking himself whether his "truth”
is the real truth, whether his "naturalism" does not, by
giving undue prominence to vice, fall into an excess
parallel to the "idealism" he so strongly censures in
George Sand and Octave Feuillet.
Rod goes on to say that Zola did not ask himself questions
of this nature, but rather proclaimed himself a savant.
"Moralists may deplore such a procedure, but artists will
approve of it, for it has, after all, enabled the author to
exhibit the correspondence between the bent of his genius
and the subjects he has treated" (p. 144). In fact this
indifference to penetrating questions such as those asked by
Rod above allowed Zola to build his artistic monument.
This examination as to whether or not Zola attempted
to imitate real life in an exact form in his art emphasizes
three points. First, Zola was extremely selective and
12
Edouard Rod, "Zola as a Moralist," Living Age,
222:143, July 15, 1899.
159
exercised very strong artistic control of his subject.
Second, the nature of his writing has about it a quality
of emotional infectiousness much akin to that in Tolstoy’s
work. Third, Zola's extreme selectivity and control
effected a representation of life which, though high in
emotive quality, is a simplification of the complex nature
of real life. This simplification indicates that while
Zola was able to cry out strongly for the need for social
reforms, he was unable to advance any concrete ideas as to
the manner in which the reforms might best be made.
Use of sensational and striking effects. Tolstoy,
with his eye on the ultimate purpose of genuine art-“to
convey to others emotions which one has experienced, con
demned the introduction of sensational and striking details
into art as these details diluted genuine art. Zola's
conception of art does not correspond with Tolstoy's basic
definition of what art should be. Hence the French novel
ist would be at a loss to understand Tolstoy’s objections
to the inclusion of sensational and striking details.
Literary criticism in general has, however, revealed an
initial horror of the sensational elements, especially
those pertaining to sex, which are found in most of
160
Zola's novels.
In the previous section of this chapter Zola's work
was examined from the standpoint of whether or not he
imitated reality objectively. Though we know he did not,
it is ironical that he was often accused of this by those
who were shocked by the lubricity in his novels. Both in
Germany and England the first reaction of the critics to
Zola was no mild shock. Winthrop H. Root quotes several
examples of the most violent epithets criticizing Zola:
Naturalism as a literary school fared no whit better
than the individual novels. "Zola takes pictures in
insane asylums, grog-shops, and on the sidewalks of
Paris. He touches them up with the brush of vulgarity."
"One could translate the word naturalism into German
with many expressions and not have to rise above the word
filth." Naturalism is "a dogma like any other, only
sluttish and vulgar." "The Naturalists bear a flag on
the face of which is to be read 'War on Idealism.' On
the reverse side of this standard of the literature of
the future are three figures, a prostitute arm in arm
with a lunatic and a drunkard." Naturalism "consists
chiefly in the exact photographic reproduction of the
most repulsive and disgusting realities of nature."
(P. 7)
These random caricatures of naturalism represent the
initial reaction in Germany. England and the United States
greeted Zola's work in the same manner. Except for
England, this reaction became modified as Zola's literary
stature grew. Around 1880 Zola was recognized as an
161
important writer by the German critics, but they were still
justly harsh about his sensuality and lubricity.
The critics found fault as well with the insistent
presentation of ugly and sensual details. Repeatedly
Zola was charged with loving what was evil and fearing
what was good. The cause of this criticism was the
prominence and space allotted the ugly details in his
novel, and although Zola might adduce the moral purpose
of the novels as justification, the critics felt that
here, too, Zola had overstepped the bounds of what was
permissible and become a menace to the reader. His
insistence on portraying vice on a large scale and his
use of glaring colors in the portrayal caused some of
the critics to class him with the leading writers of
indecent literature. From another angle, Moritz
Carriere pointed out that the novels were evil because
they poisoned youth with a too pessimistic picture of
reality. Lindau believed that Zola himself had been
thus poisoned, until he could no longer write about the
good and beautiful convincingly. (Root, pp. 17-18)
Root continues his historical account of the reception
of Zola by German critics, indicating that as the natural
ist movement began to take roots in Germany, the younger
school of writers actually began to defend Zola's use of
the sensational. These writers defended Zola with an
enthusiasm comparable in its blindness only to those state
ments of his sensuality and obscenity quoted inmediately
above.
H. T. Peck in his essay published in Studies in
Several Literatures argues that Zola's naturalism was the
next logical development beyond realism (as perfected in
162
Flaubert's Madame Bovary). Hence Zola was carrying out
artistic evolution, not delving into obscenities. His
argmnent seems too abstract— perhaps from lack of a recent
acquaintance with a novel like Germinal!
Vernon Lee points out that not only does Zola incor
porate sensational detail in his work, but he revels in it,
exaggerating the emotional effect where possible.
For there is a loss of poignancy proportional almost
to an author's departure from individual fact, and this
loss, as we see it, for instance, in Dostoievsky's
"Dead House," a book which contains far more horrible
matter, and yet terrifies us infinitely less than
"Germinal"— this loss of objective emotional strength
can be balanced only by the strongest subjective emotion;
by those outbursts of poetry which add the terror and
pity of the author's mind to the terror and pity inherent
in the subject. Hence, in estimating the moral leanings
of one of Zola's novels, we must not separate the mere
facts from their oratorical setting; but on the contrary
submit to be acted upon by both. ^
Mr. Lee insists that the reader must consent to be acted on
by both, for the shock is a necessary element in awakening
the reader to Zola's morality through his cry for reform.
Zola's nature was such that he could only achieve his pur
pose in the manner in which he has. A Tolstoy might have
successfully conveyed the same message in a different
13
"The Moral Teachings of Zola," The Contemporary
Review, 63:199, February 1893.
163
manner, but Zola used the only means open to his particular
genius.
Zola wrote best sellers. Lubricity attracts a large
number of readers. It would be naive to ignore the possi
bility that Zola, journalist, self advertiser, and self
promoter, did not realize that the more sensational his
material, the more readers he would have. Angus Wilson is
one of the few critics to suggest this.
. . . and by his art, his force, his hatred, compas
sion and vulgarity, he drove the public to pile up his
fortune as they queued to peer at the very hell they
spent most of their lives in avoiding. The peepshows
were cleverly labelled— the Sanctity of the Family, the
Honour of the Army, the Virtues of the Poor, the Ideals
of the Artist, the Tradition of the Peasantry, the
Splendour of the Church, the Soundness of Finance--and
in each there lay a putrescent corpse, far more terrible
than the skeleton the poor reader had shut away so
carefully in the cupboard of his own guarded conscience.
Even now, the greatest of the novels--LfAssonmoir. La
Terre. Germinal— have the quality of nightmares; how
much more appalling must they have been for the con
temporary reader. (Pp. 52-53)
Zola is not overly popular today. The violence and
lubricity which aided the early popularity of his work may
be one of the things that keeps his novels from remaining
current favorites. There are scenes and references in
Germinal which would make many readers hesitate to recom
mend the book to their friends.
164
Martin Turnell carries this objection one step far
ther as he evaluates the lasting literary merit of Zola as
an artist. He condemns Zola, as would Tolstoy, for con
fusing the sensual and the sensational with genuine art.
. . . What he lacked was the intuitive insight with
out which a man cannot be a great novelist. . . . He was
determined . . . to reach truth through violence. . . .
The essential elements of experience eluded him. . . .
His books remain external to us; they do not change us
or increase the potentialities of experience. We may
feel impressed or horrified or simply numbed, but what
ever we feel is only momentary. As soon as we put the
book down, the sensation fades like the effect of a
melodrama. . . .^
In summary, it is not logical to condemn Zola for his
use of sensational and striking details on the basis of
Tolstoy's theory of art because the Frenchman did not have
the same concept of art as did the great Russian. It is
logical, however, to evaluate Zola's use of the sensational
on the basis of whether it weakened or strengthened his
book. Zola's use of the violent contributed forcibly to
the strength of his prose. Yet he is most criticized for
this one phase of his works, and justly so. His emphasis
on the sensational may be explained by any or all of three
reasons. First, he needed to use this violence to make
^Martin Turnell, The Art of French Fiction (Norfolk,
Conn., 1959), p. 193.
165
the reader feel that the life depicted in his novels was
wrong and should be remedied. Second, his use of the
sensational was calculated to entice the popular reader to
buy his books. Third, there was a basic need or lack in
his personal life which prompted him to express himself
vicariously in a sensual and material way. More will be
said of this last suggestion in the section of this paper
discussing Zola's individuality. It is this writer's
feeling that each of these three reasons had a share in the
responsibility for the excessive amount of sensational and
striking detail incorporated into Zola's novel.
Use of interesting material to dilute art. Tolstoy
contended that there was a great deal of material Included
in nineteenth century art that was not art— that is, it did
not convey to others emotions the artist had experienced.
He acknowledged that this material might be interesting,
and the reader might confuse his interest with the effect
produced by genuine art. This material, however, was not
genuine art; it did not infect the reader with emotions
the author had experienced; hence it was counterfeit art.
By this standard almost all of Germinal must be called
counterfeit art. Yet the novel does portray experience,
166
if vicarious, and the emotional import of the experience
is infectious in the sense that Tolstoy felt art should be.
It must be granted that Zola and Tolstoy operated with
different conceptions of the basic nature of art. Never
theless, an analysis of whether or not Zola dilutes his
work with material of a non-infectious emotional nature
will offer a profitable approach to Germinal and at the
same time test the validity of Tolstoy1s assertions about
this aspect of counterfeit art.
Zola’s research at the Anzin mines and his study of
mining conditions immediately comes to mind. This material
is used in Germinal and used fairly effectively to synthe
size real experience. Since a discussion of how he used
observed facts and details has been incorporated into the
second section of this chapter (see pp. 141-147), it will
be dispensed with now. Beliefs of the miners as well as
concrete details are also used by Zola in realistically
portraying the miners’ lives. Armand Lanoux feels that
this technique leads to the major attraction that Zola's
subject matter holds for us today--the way he romanticizes
the characters of his novel:
The most obvious is the way in which he romanticizes
his characters, their actions and their background. He
accepts and shares the miners’ mythology--the Black Man
167
of the pit, who wrings the bad girlsf necks; Tartaret,
of whom he writes: It was an old, forgotten legend, for
the fire of Heaven had long ago destroyed this monster
from the entrails of the earth; or the Torrent, set free
by Souvarine. He accepts the sentimental world of the
novelette, and describes the same Souvarine in tears
because he has unwittingly eaten his pet rabbit, Pologne:
everything is there down to the name of the animal. The
narrator lets himself go completely over the incident of
the wicked boy Jeanlin who murders a young soldier. The
knife with which he stabs his victim has the word Love
engraved on its handle. (P. 148)
Zola weaves the folklore of the miners and his potent sym
bolism into the narrative. It is obvious here that his
incorporation of these two types of interesting material
is the very technique that gives his work its emotive
quality, and to an extent its verisimilitude.
In What is Art? Tolstoy launched an extensive attack
on the symbolistic writers of his generation. Their
obscurity impeded the effect of art and their irrelevan-
cies diluted the genuine emotional effect of art as did
other "interesting material." Yet Germinal is fraught with
symbolism. V. S. Pritchett has observed, "The two great
things in Germinal are its romantic grasp of the scene--
its sustained symbolism--and the handling of groups of
people.D. L. Murray in Scenes and Silhouettes
15
"Books in General," New Statesman and Nation.
February 22, 1941, pp. 188-189-
168
(London, n.d.) poses as his thesis the contention that the
Individual characters of the novel are reduced to symbols
while the mobs and machines become Individuals screaming
Zola's cries. Perhaps Zola's characters may be viewed In
retrospect as symbols; they are not, however, reduced to
symbols for the empathetlc reader In the course of his
initial acquaintance with the book.
The symbolism in Germinal could easily be the subject
of an extensive paper. For brevity's sake, one example of
Zola's use of symbolism will be presented in detail, fol
lowed by only general observations about the other symbolic
aspects of the novel.
One of the apparently needless tragedies in the
violent ending of Germinal is the strangulation of Cecile,
the sheltered young daughter of the Gregoires. She is
killed by Bonnemort, the crippled old miner whose family,
health, and sanity had been broken by a life of virtual
slavery in the Montsou mine. This tragic scene is not
necessary in the resolution of the novel except that it
helps to compile disaster upon disaster for dramatic
effect. Yet this extraneous incident can be examined
separately and be found to express Zola's theme on a
169
microcosmic level.
Old Bonnemort, crippled and shocked into a trance-like
detachment from reality, is the embodiment of all the
tribulations, hardships, and dangers inflicted upon those
who have toiled their lives away in the mines. Cecile, the
pampered daughter of a family which has lived in idle com
fort, literally oblivious of the harsh reality of the
struggle for existence around it, lacks sufficient experi
ence even to understand really the meaning of privation and
duress. To the old man, the girl represents an entire
class of idle rich that has imposed a sub-human level of
existence upon him and his family. To the girl, the old
man personifies the fundamental struggle for life itself;
she is drawn to him by the compelling force of a reality
beyond the narrow realm of her experience. On a psycho
logical level Zola implies that this fascination leads
Cecile to her doom as she was drawn close enough for the
old man to seize and strangle her.
Besides this symbolic repetition of the hatred between
the workers and the owners of the mine, this scene has two
deeper implications. On one hand it shows that not only
the workers suffer and die under the hardships imposed
170
by Le Voreau, but also that all the people associated
with it are vulnerable to its contagious misfortune. This
mine is only a boil, an outward manifestation of a thorough
and malignant disease that infects all who come in touch
with it. On the other hand this scene taken in context
with others in the book supports fitienne’s optimistic
belief in the closing paragraph of the book that the revolt
germinating in the hearts of the workers will meet with
inevitable success. Each of these implications may be
considered separately.
Earlier in the book M. Gregoire, in discussing busi
ness with Deneulin, the able, well-meaning, but ill-fated
capitalist, rebuked the latter for being overly zealous.
Gregoire boasted that his money was safely and conserva
tively invested where it would continue to provide security
for himself and even for his grandchildren. Yet Cecile's
death precluded any possibility of Gregoire ever having
grandchildren--a circumstance more tragic in nature than
the honest Deneulin's complete bankruptcy. Ironically,
both the enterprising capitalist and the conservative old
investor were stricken by the same malignant economic
system.
171
The death of Cecile is the second encounter of the old
man and the girl. During the raging but useless mob scenes,
Cecile fell Into the hands of the angry miners, and Bonne-
mort, fascinated by the young girl's white neck, attempted
to strangle her. She was saved from death by £tlenne who
drew off Bonnemort and the other miners with the suggestion
that they sack Magralt's store. Subsequently, Deneulen
saved Cecile from the hands of the rioting women.
This first riot was violent, but ill-directed; its
effect was more threatening than final. Similarly on their
first encounter Cecile was frightened by Bonnemort, but not
seriously injured. During their second encounter the
seemingly immobile old man was able to draw the young girl
somewhat mysteriously to her destruction. The foreboding
extension of this parallelism would indicate that the
crippled and beaten miners with more singleness of purpose
will meet with ultimate success in their next violent
encounter with the bourgeoisie.
In conclusion, this scene effectively illustrates the
major revelations of the novel. More than just the mine,
the entire economic situation is poisonous and destructive,
afflicting both employers and owners. Yet the hungry,
172
suffering workers, reduced by virtual slavery to a sub
human level of existence, will rise in a demand for the
recognition of their human dignity and destroy the existing
inequalities. The fact that history shows that these con
ditions have been remedied by less volcanic means in no way
invalidates Zola's work. The seething economic and social
conditions that he so artistically and honestly portrayed
were there.
The mine, Le Voreau, is the most striking symbol in
the book. Animated almost bluntly by Zola's metaphorical
style into a man-eating monster early in the novel, its
destruction is associated with the eventual end of the
oppression of the miners and the germination of a new hope.
E. C. Vanderlip has tried to assign a specific interpreta
tion to Zola's use of symbols here:
The image of the mine, the pictorial element, gives
the impression of realism; it places the narrative within
the realm of the actual. The metaphorical reference to
the mine as a great beast prepares the way for recurrent
use of the mine as a symbol of capitalism. The mine is
set over against individuals who represent the laboring
class and they focus their struggle upon the mine. The
story becomes a myth because Zola weaves the symbols into
a story representing the universal fate of the workingman.
The story becomes a vehicle of meaning which is larger
than the surface meaning.
^"Fate in the Novels of Zola and Couperus . . . ,"
unpub. dissertation (Univ. of So. Calif., June 1959), p. 97.
173
The use of the word ’ 'capitalism” does not seem too satis
factory an equivalent for Le Voreau--perhaps because of the
present-day political and ideological connotations of the
word. The exposure of certain injustices within an eco
nomic system does not necessarily constitute an argument
for the wholesale scrapping of the whole system. Vanderlip
seems also to overlook the fact that the employers and
owners are victimized, as are the laborers, in Germinal.
Zola sees the weaknesses inherent in socialistic movements
as he portrays £tienne, the leader in the fight against the
bourgeoisie. Once Etienne has assumed a certain amount of
personal importance, he wants more. As secretary of the
International, he begins to develop into one of the very
bourgeois he started to oppose. Similarly, the framework
of the International breaks down because its leaders,
inspired by a sense of their own self-importance, cannot
agree with one another. While Zola was exposing a terrible
cancer in the economic structure of the Second Empire, to
say that he was attacking capitalism and, by implication,
recommending socialism is too much a simplification.
If symbols can be reduced to a concrete formula, they
serve to convert a work of art into a simple mathematical
174
statement or a conmon precept. If on the other hand the
symbolism alludes to a vague, higher truth which cannot be
completely articulated, the significance of the work of art
is enhanced. Until the purpose of Germinal has been
studied more closely in the concluding section of this
chapter, perhaps it would be better to give Zola the bene
fit of the doubt and concur with Benjamin Wells’ descrip
tion:
. . . And over all there dominates the pumping engine,
a symbol of soulless, restless, panting life, vague, yet
ever-present, till it is swallowed up at last in the
collapsing pit, as though it were incarnate society that
had undermined its own base, struggling with futile
desperation against an inexorable fate, and leaving
behind for our sole consolation an eternal hope in the
’ ’germinal" forces of nature from which a new and better
order may arise. ”
Just as the symbolical overtones of the episode of the
death of Cecile Gregoires add significance to the larger
symbol of the mine and its destruction, the trained eye of
Martin Tumell apparently discerns a phallic aspect of
Zola's use of symbolism.
The sexual symbolism of the limp, dangling cable, the
falling chimney and the vanishing lightning conductor is
unmistakable. The falling chimney looks back to the
earlier image of it sticking up into the air like the
Century of French Fiction (New York, 1912), p. 305.
175
'threatening horn' of an animal, the limp dangling cable
to the hideous spectacle of the old crone carrying
Maigrait's severed member on a pole. The mob castrate
the dead Maigrait because he had abused their daughters.
It is not sufficient to kill the mine; it too must be
castrated because it had abused the miners. (Art of
French Fiction, p. 172)
The theme of birth versus death occurs and re-occurs
throughout the course of Germinal. The symbolism of cas
tration associated with the destruction of the mine,
Tumell believes, gives added significance to the sprouting
tufts of green grass referred to in the concluding para
graph of the novel. This fresh new growth must refer to
the birth of a new order because the old order as symbol
ized by Le Voreau has been destroyed and is now incapable
of rebirth.
The symbolism in Germinal produces two effects. It
adds to the significance of the external action, and it
strengthens the emotional force of the narrative. While
Tolstoy denounced symbolism of any kind as a substitute for
true art, he would be forced to admit that Zola's more
basic use of symbolism, as for instance in the animation of
the mine, adds to the emotional strength of his work. The
more detailed ramifications, as exemplified by Tumell's
allusions to phallic symbols, must, however, definitely
176
be classed in the category which Tolstoy described as the
decadent art of the upper classes.
Genuine Art
Tolstoy characterized genuine art according to the
qualities of individuality, clarity, and sincerity. In
considering these qualities it is necessary to keep in mind
Tolstoy's definition of art. He limited the meaning of
individuality to the specific experience re-created in the
work of art. The exact feeling of the writer must be indi
vidualized in art form. In the same way clarity is in one
sense limited by Tolstoy's definition to the force with
which the individualized feeling is conveyed. In another
sense it is necessary, of course, for the subject matter
of the novel to be readily understood if the reader is to
be able to experience the individualized emotion. In the
same manner Tolstoy uses the word "sincerity" to qualify
the feelings, not necessarily the ideas, the author wishes
to convey.
Individuality. Zola did not try to individualize his
own experience in his art, or at least not in Germinal. It
is difficult, therefore, to apply the terms "individuality,"
177
"clarity," and "sincerity" to Germinal in the sense that
Tolstoy meant them to be used. There is no doubt, though,
that Zola individualized the experiences related in the
novel. His ability to be specific, to use the right
phrase, the right detail, or the right symbol has been con
sidered above. Although his means were mechanical and the
emotions he evoked, vicarious, the very strength of his art
was embodied in his ability to individualize. This is true
not only of the single scene, but of the book as a whole.
Angus Wilson has shown how Zola produced an orchestra of
emotional impact by weaving together the plaintive sounds
of a series of individual tragedies (see p. 156 above).
Zola's ability to individualize vicarious emotion with
such unusual force is the product both of his personality
and of his genius. When the word "individuality" is
applied to the author rather than the emotional import of
his art, its use is extended beyond Tolstoy’s intention.
This can be justified in Zola's case because his own unique
personality conditioned his method of artistic creativity.
There are certain manifestations of Zola as a person
which set him apart from the ordinary run of human beings.
The qualities which made him uncommon as an individual
178
contributed to his success as a literary artist.
First, Zola was extremely sensitive to external In
fluences. His nervous system Inclined him toward neuroti-
clsm. Angus Wilson observes:
If the nervous undercurrent In Zola's life was made
manifest spasmodically by mental obsessions and delu
sions, it was evidenced throughout his life by a physical
hyperaesthesia, which like his obsession with numbers,
is another corner-stone of his creative powers. He saw,
heard and, above all, smelt his surroundings more in
tensely than the normal person. To judge from his work
we would suspect it was many years before this excess of
physical sensitivity was integrated with the rest of his
personality. (P. 57)
Wilson concludes with the observation that Zola’s remark
able sensitivity made him a poet--initially an unsuccessful
romantic poet during his youth, and finally the naturalistic
poet of power as manifested in the mob scenes in Germinal
and in the heightened emotional passages of other novels.
Matthew Josephson offers the most striking example of
how Zola’s acute sensitivity conditioned his descriptive
power:
Zola is like one of those men (sometimes the abnormal,
the mad) who are gifted with special senses. Whereas
most people know things chiefly by hearing and seeing
them, Zola knows them additionally by smelling them, by
inhuming the mysterious effluvia which they exhale upon
the air. Thus to eat a well-rotted cheese is a thrilling
experience for Zola, charged with preludes, intermezzos,
and crescendoes. By aid of his almost primordial olfac
tory senses, Zola created the "symphony of the cheeses"
179
in "The Belly of Paris"— so that effete Parisian critics
succumbed to nausea, they declared, on sniffing this
celebrated chapter— thus certainly suggesting to Huysmans
the idea of the "Symphony of Perfumes" in A Rebours.
(Alas what delights we miss, we who mumble into our
adenoids our live long days!)
The nose of &nile Zola became famous. (P. 208)
Second, from Dr. Edouard Toulouse's report of the
extensive, if primitive, psychological examination given to
Zola in a series of studies concentrating on men of superior
accomplishments, Armand Lanoux calls attention to a passing
reference more often overlooked than it should have been.
"Zola has had accesses of terror from time to time, and
they seem due to an incident in his childhood when he
became wedged in a crowd at Carnival time" (p. 214). If
mobs inspired terror in Zola, it is not strange that he
made such extensive use of mob scenes to consummate an
explosion occasioned by all the injustices represented in
Germinal. Conversely, the emotional impact of a mob upon
Zola's own emotions may have been so great that his own
nature was keyed up to create the staggering effects of
those "nightmare" mob scenes in the novel.
Third, it is not unlikely that there was something in
Zola's personality to account for the excessive use of
lubricity in his novels. As observed before, after he
180
began his affair with Jeanne Roserat, sex ceased to occupy
such a prominent place in his novels (see p. 140 above).
ZolaTs excessive dedication to his work and his puritanical
personal habits may account for his need for this vicarious
form of release. Anthony West, in a review of La Curee,
makes this observation:
When Renee rounds out the book by dying of meningitis,
one suspects that it is not she who is corrupt but her
creator, and that she is given the beating she gets for
being attractive, and for arousing something in him that
he dislikes and fears. . . .
West continues this line of thinking by quoting a passage
from "Le Faute de l’Abbe Mouret." He feels a phrase in
this passage mirrors an attitude of its author.
The phrase "that infest matter" is a giveaway that
leads one to recognize both in the passage and in the
body of Zola's work a private neurosis and a source of
inspiration shared with the hell-fire preachers--a
terror of life, and a sour envy of those with the
courage to live it.
This opinion is supported by Armand Lanoux who has observed
several times that Zola worked rather than lived during the
years he created the Rougon Macquart series. The Dreyfus
affair, Lanoux infers, is Zola's apology for having failed
to face the issues of life as long as he did.
18
Anthony West, "The Perils of Chastity," New Yorker.
December 11, 1954, pp. 76-77.
181
Fourth, whether one considers the forbidding task of
writing the Rougon Macquart series or Zola's championship
of the unpopular Alfred Dreyfus, it is impossible to over
look two essential qualities of &nile Zola's character—
courage and will power. That Zola needed courage to embark
on a project of the nature and scope of the Rougon Macquart
series is self-evident. Angus Wilson has observed that in
Zola's novels the author seems primarily interested in the
physiological and medical approach to his characters.
While these characters are not merely symbols, they are
not, according to Wilson, fully developed. In fact only
one aspect of character seemed to interest Zola deeply--the
human will. In Germinal £tienne Lantier's effort to avoid
his hereditary weakness is one example in the study of the
human will.
These four qualities of Brnile Zola--a remarkable per
sonal sensitivity including an exceptional sense of smell,
a terror of crowds, a poor personal adjustment between work
and the enjoyment of life, unusual courage and will power--
do much to shape the unique nature of his work. In fact
there is a remarkable parallelism between these four per
sonal qualities and unique manner in which he individual
izes feeling in his novel, Germinal.
182
Clarity. Zola wrote for popular consumption, and it
is readily apparent that he was careful to write in such
a way that his readers could understand him. In LVAssom-
moir he went so far as to abandon conventional literary
style and use what he believed to be the language of his
characters in the narrative and descriptive passages in the
book. It has already been noted above that when he de
parted from the rules formulated by Tolstoy for genuine
art, as in his use of striking events and his use of sym
bolism, this departure was in the direction of clarity
rather than away from it.
As Henri Barbusse points out, Zola's scenes are
rendered simply. These scenes combine to strengthen the
emotional form of one another. This reenforcement renders
the impact of Zola's novel clearer and more pronounced:
Zola's style is simple, clear and solid, homogeneous,
abundantly accessible to all. Above all it is very
dynamic. It has, so to speak, great dimensions. He
handles sentences like troops, he sends a current of
activity through the whole multitude of pages, massing
in sweeping movements his medleys of people, things and
thoughts. He lifts and arranges stones like the rhythms
of the fabled singer. The writer draws grandiose from
the inimitable gift of frenzied symmetry, and he un
leashes descriptions which remain in the memories of all
with the emotional force of personal recollections.
(P. 261)
183
Barbusse has used the words "simple" and "grandiose"
in describing Zola's writing, and he is right in doing so.
Zola's style is simple and direct. He relates each indi
vidual episode in a manner which cannot but evoke sympathy
or compassion in the reader. Here his simplicity stops.
The multitude of individual scenes and episodes are com
bined and complemented in such a way that they produce an
emotional power of great magnitude. To an extent clarity
of ideas may be lost at this point. Issues may lose their
simplicity and symbols may become vague. Individual
characters are obscured. The reader is engulfed in a
frenzy of emotion. Zola was a master at evoking emotion
with force and clarity.
Sincerity. Tolstoy affirmed that if an artist were
sincere, he would as a matter of course individualize his
feelings with inherent clarity. Thus, sincerity is the
most important of the three qualities of genuine art.
Tolstoy applied the terra "sincerity" to the specific emo
tional experience the author sought to re-create. With
Zola, "sincerity" can only be considered as genuineness of
purpose.
184
Zola's championship of the "experimental novel," as
has been indicated, took on the proportions of a hoax. The
novelist was soon aware that there was nothing really
scientific in his creative process; yet long after he him
self had been disillusioned, he publicized his advocacy of
a scientific approach to writing (see pp. 131-138). This
alone is enough to make us hesitate to accept Zola too
readily at face value.
In an article entitled "Zola and the American
Critics," Herbert Edwards quotes Professor J. W. Davidson
in his address to the Concord School in 1886.
I find in Socrates' irony of conversation one charac
teristic which distinguishes it from the irony of most
other men. I can think of only four other men whose
irony has the same characteristic— Aristotle, Jesus,
Goethe, and Zola. I know it will surprise most of you
to hear me include Zola in this noble company but I do
so with knowledge of cause. Zola is much decried at
present for an over-devotion to truth, which he persists
in telling in its entirety, yea, even when he uses irony.
Let us not then join the cry, remembering that Socrates,
in his day, was put to death for atheism and for cor
rupting the youth of Athens, that Aristotle had to flee
for similar reasons, that Jesus was crucified for blas
phemy. . . . That howl is mostly hushed nowadays, and
so will the present howl against Zola soon be. In the
whole range of literature, I know of no more cool, calm,
terrible irony than that of Zola. It is the very irony
of truth itself.19
^ American Literature, 4:119"120, May 1932.
185
What constitutes genuine sincerity, or for that matter
what constitutes truth, is not as simple a question as
would at first be supposed. Davidson's words alluding to
Zola's "overdevotion to truth" seem strange in light of the
fact that it is obvious to us that Zola's novels embody
extreme simplifications (see pp. 155-158 above). Zola saw
an aspect of life often overlooked by the more complacent.
He dramatized it to the point where it had to be recognized
for its immanence (even though in reality it was not as
large or as violent a factor in life as Zola's scenes would
indicate). In retrospect, it might be better to indicate
that Zola was the spokesman for a truth about life rather
than the truth about life.
Zola was bom into a fairly well-to-do family which
tumbled progressively down the economic scale after the
death of his father, the family’s bread earner. Emile's
devotion to long arduous work, his journalistic career, and
his acute sense of the importance of self-advertising were
all part of an effort to avoid forever the hunger pangs
he had felt as a young man. He had a will to succeed.
This will was certainly a mark of personal sincerity.
Whether his methods reflect a similar sincerity is another
186
question. Armand Lanoux tells us,
The Rougon-Macguarts, the Private and Public Life of
a Family under the Second Empire, is not so much a study
in heredity, as in the urge to power— not on the part of
its characters, but of its author. Zola was determined
to realize himself. This book was the triumph of his
will power over a collection of vague ideas introduced
by the writer because he needed something of the kind
to weld the thing together. (P. 151)
Zola collected his material for Germinal by examining
the Anzin mines and studying the news reports of the Anzin
strike some years before. The most violent scenes--the
soldiers firing on the rioters and the destruction of the
mine— were events which did not occur during the Anzin
strike, but came about during other strikes. This is im
portant because Zola claimed he sought to do nothing but
to present the truth in order that his readers should know
of the miners’ conditions and do something about them.
Zola's collection of violent and dramatic events is not
the impartial truth. Germinal describes the conditions
of miners caught in the economic labyrinth of the Second
Empire. Ostensibly he wrote the book to expose unwholesome
human conditions in order that they might be ameliorated.
Yet he published the novel in 1885 during the Third
Republic. Conditions had already made some changes for
187
the better. Here again, the truth of Zola's purpose seems
elusive.
Zola's picture of the strike was not honest in the
sense that it portrayed present conditions or even specific
historical conditions accurately. How can he be considered
a sincere artist? An artist cannot reproduce reality
objectively, however, he must simplify, and in simplifying,
he is able to place his emphasis on a certain way of look
ing at the world. Zola sought to present a part of the
world in a way that the reader might see certain inherent
evils in existing conditions. He used sensationalism and
all the other mechanisms of shock to accomplish this means.
This approach was his forte.
Thus, when Zola presents the world of the Rougon
Macquart series, his world may not appear to be honest to
us who feel his vision was channelized. However, his books
are honest in that he was faithful to his own genius. It
may be said that without a doubt Zola was sincere in that
he adhered to the dictates of his own unique creative
nature.
Important, too, from a critical standpoint, this con
sideration of Germinal as genuine art has revealed that
188
Zola’s individuality and his sincerity are very obvious and
basic ingredients in the recipe of his genius.
Art for All Men
Tolstoy contended that art should be for all men. By
basic definition he called art the objectivization of ex
perience common to all men. Art should concern itself with
the problems of all the people, not just the upper classes.
And art should be specifically for the consumption of all
men. Zola obviously was close to the people when he wrote
his naturalistic novels. In order to measure just how
close he was, consideration must be given to three ques
tions. Did Zola direct his writing to a general or a
limited reading public? Did he deal with the problems of
the common man in his novels? And finally, were his works
read by the common man?
Marcel Ayme in an article entitled, "Zola: Truth
despite Science," relates that he feels Zola is no longer
popular because his application of the "scientific method"
accounts for long passages of indigestible material. He
indicates, though, that parts of Zola’s works still have
a vital emotional appeal.
189
. . . But Zola depicted the individuals and their
respective environments with great felicity and truth
fulness, giving them a social significance simply
through his power of evocation.™
Ayme characterizes these evocative passages as poetic and
epic in quality. He concludes his account with the rela
tion of a personal experience. He tells of a very old
woman who used to relate to him tales of her drunken
husband and her hardships in the face of poverty. Her
experiences reminded Ayme of lives of the characters in
L'Assommoir and Germinal, leaving with him a feeling that
Zola's books did speak the truth about the hardships of
the common man.
Ayme's account suggests that Zola's method of convey
ing experience is very close to Tolstoy's. Vernon Lee in
his article, "The Moral Teachings of Zola," infers the
same thing when he personally acknowledges that he has
"lived in a very real, dull, numbing, crushing, suffering
world" while reading Germinal. He goes on to observe "that
these miners are like ourselves and suffer like us. The
tragedy of the book is the entry of obscenity into their
lives" (p. 202). These two critics admit that they have
20
Trans, by Herman Briffault, Saturday Review of
Literature, January 27, 1951, p. 17.
190
lived the novel as they read it. As was indicated earlier,
Zola's art is developed around vicarious emotional experi
ence rather than recollected emotional experience. Never
theless, the appeal may be the same.
Perhaps there should be a distinction between "living
a book" and "feeling a book" as one reads. Whether or not
one lives the experiences in Germinal as he reads Zola's
masterpiece, he must feel them. The emotion is too funda
mental to be overlooked. Martin Tumell shows that Zola
used a very basic device to accomplish this purpose--
animation. He gave inanimate objects, such as the mine,
Le Voreau, living qualities. This basic emotional, almost
religious, force cannot be discounted.
. . . Now Animism belongs to the mental habits of
primitive man. Zola was using a primitive device to
express the reactions of a primitive individual, but he
could also count to some extent on the survival of
primitive habits in his readers. (Art of French Fiction,
p. 168)
Zola's novels conveyed powerful, seemingly real experience
to all his readers. While not of the same nature as
Tolstoy's writing, his work was designed to appeal to the
basic nature of emotional man. Instinctively, he wrote in
such a way as to be communicable to the greater part of the
reading public.
191
Did Zola write of the problems of the common man?
He certainly implied that he did when he elaborated upon
the Rougon Macquart family.
The family I describe represents the great democratic
revolution of our time. They come from the people, rise
to the cultivated classes and thence to the highest
positions in the state; they are typically clever and
typically corrupt. (Lanoux, p. 89)
This is an announcement that Zola is attempting to describe
the large panorama of French society. It should be remem
bered from our analysis of Zola's technique in developing
Germinal that he developed his mass effects by portraying
individuals (see pp. 155-156 above). By individualizing
his characters, he proceeded directly to the problems of
the common man.
Norman A. Benneton analyses Zola’s work from the
aspect of social research. His article entitled, "Social
Thoughts of finile Zola," illustrates how Zola achieved the
general effect by dealing with the specific in presenting
the problems of the conmon man. He points out that Zola's
condemnation of the Second French Etapire was we 11-deserved.
Those readers who know its weaknesses are not so hasty to
state that Zola exaggerated. The Second Empire,
. . . commenced in blood, continued in corruption,
was speedily dragging France down to the "deb&cle."
This fact seems to have been altogether overlooked by
192
the critics when not viewing Zola's works as a vast
whole; not only is it the history of a single family,
but the rise, the gradual demoralization, and the final
downfall of the Etapire. The degeneracy of the time was
the stock subject in contemporary literature, but it was
nothing short of justifiable under so vicious a regime
as that of Napoleon III; so depraved was it that in
recent times no other period has approached its moral
deterioration.
Benneton's denunciation of the Second Etapire is almost as
forceful as Zola’s. Whether or not his extreme attitude is
justified his article illustrates his contention by cata
loguing the social problems revealed in several of Zola's
novels. In abbreviated form those listed for Germinal are
as follows: (1) meagemess of pay, (2) scantiness of provi
sions, (3) long working hours, (4) unsanitary conditions,
(5) inability to take an interest in healthy pastimes,
(6) exhausting rote, physical toil, (7) bad food, (8) lack
of home comfort, (9) inability to procure an adequate edu
cation to rise above one's original level, (10) too numer
ous families, (11) worry, (12) uncertainty (danger),
(13) inability to take an interest in the mental and
spiritual activities which elevate human nature, and
(14) working conditions, such as exposure to fire damp,
^ Sociology and Social Research, 13:367, March 1929.
193
temperatures up to 113 degrees Fahrenheit, and child and
young girl labor. Other aspects of social, economic, and
moral conditions could be extracted from Germinal, but
these serve to illustrate the scope of Zola's concern with
the problems of the common man.
While the terms "common man" and "all men" are not
synonymous, they tend to correspond in a discussion of
Tolstoy's aesthetics, because he was concerned about art
for all men as contrasted with art designed to please the
tastes of only the upper classes in Europe--significantly
less than 5 per cent of the world's population (see Chap
ter I, pp. 33-39). Both the terms "common man" and "all
men" are pertinent to the subject matter of the novels in
Zola's Rougon Macquart series. In portraying all classes
of French society, his series of novels covered numerous
aspects of the lives of a great many types of people. As
indicated before, each novel restricts its subject matter
to one level of society--thus enhancing the force of the
author's portrayal. Consequently, Germinal is almost
exclusively concerned with the life of the coal miners.
While Zola directed his lens at a limited field of vision,
his hesitation to simplify cause-and-effect relationships
194
allows him to Include many more elements In his picture
than he, or the reader, can resolve. Richard H. Kain, in
a letter to the editor of The Saturday Review of Litera
ture. characterizes this complexity:
The contemporary proletarian novelist can learn much
from Zola. That prolific craftsman with his painstaking
documentary method was too wise to ignore the complexity
of the problem. His is no naive lion and lamb theology.
He has no faith in violence. Indeed its results are
almost ironical. In his novel hatred of the militia
merely leads to the death of a homesick urchin from Brit
tany who happens to wear the detested uniform. Destruc
tion of machinery causes lower wages; the flooding of the
mine by a rabid revolutionist traps many miners; the
bread riots are dispersed to permit the pastry cook to
deliver a vol au vent to the manager. And the supreme
irony--the strike bankrupts the benevolent Deneulin, per
mitting unscrupulous absentee landlords to control the
admirably managed mine. 2
All this is presented through individual characters. Zola
perhaps came closer than Tolstoy in using the subject
matter of the problems of all men in his writing. Tolstoy
who allegedly tried to limit his scope to emotions he him
self had experienced, was necessarily more limited than
Zola who unhesitatingly used vicarious experience.
Finally, the real test of whether Zola's art was for
all men is to be evidenced by the breadth of his reading
^"Test of Time--Germinal." April 3, 1937, p. 9.
195
public. His great popularity among contemporary readers
is a matter of record. Two quotations will be cited to
illustrate the compelling nature of his greatest novels.
The middle classes read L'Assomnoir as they had never
read Zola before, in spite of the fact that they hated
the way it was written. The working classes read it too,
disliking the matter but enjoying the author's powerful
language. As a result the book was an unprecedented
success. (Lanoux, p. 114)
Every "coron" of mines in France and Belgium has its
well-thumbed copy to attest the book’s broad truth to
nature. ^
In conclusion, Zola did design his novels to be read
by all men. The subject matter which he molded into his
larger social frescos was the composite of varied indi
vidual problems of common men. Finally, he was read by a
vast and varied public. His art was for all men in the
sense that Tolstoy felt art should serve all men. These
qualities have led Benedetto Croce to state that Zola did
succeed with the "social novel" where the more romantic
Balzac fell short. Croce states that he knows he holds
this judgment against current opinion, but this, he says,
is because Zola is usually judged according to his precepts
in The Experimental Novel.
Benjamin W. Wells, A Century of French Fiction
(New York, 1912), p. 299.
196
Perhaps the reason why people are severe with Zola
and Indulgent with others Is that all are able to see
at a glance the absurdity of experiments Instituted upon
facts that have been Imagined, but all have not suffi
cient acumen to discern the equal absurdity of poetry
turned into morality or philosophy.24
Meaning or Purpose In Germinal
Many critics orient their judgment of Zola around his
own precepts for the novel as formulated in The Experi
mental Novel. Those who pretend to see that he was com
pletely successful in following his own precepts can be
ignored for their short-sightedness. Those who denounce
him because his "experiment" was so unscientific are
equally short-sighted if they do not proceed to his work
and examine to what extent his art was true. In the Rougon
Macquart series he set about tracing the history of a
French family during the course of the Second Empire. His
portrayal of the over-all social scene has been justly
praised. But more specifically, as he shows the inter
action of hereditary and environmental influences on his
characters, how "scientific" or realistic is Zola? It is
important to consider this question before searching for
24
European Literature of the Nineteenth Century (New
York, 1924), p. 313.
197
meaning and purpose in Germinal.
Just before the turn of the century, Edouard Rod
approached this problem objectively in his article, "ftnile
Zola as a Moralist." Rod suggests that if an ordinary
reader were asked what he makes of the Rougon-Macquart
family in its eighteen volumes, this reader would be
greatly embarrassed.
"I have seen," he would tell us, "about twenty persons
who resemble each other in nothing, between whom I am
told there is a common bond, though I cannot perceive it;
some are respectable, others are criminal or dissipated,
all on account of a single original neurotic. As a
whole the family interests me because it reproduces in
miniature the image of the world; but I do not succeed
in getting a clear idea of the fact that it is one
family; I do not see any relationship between the dif
ferent members and the first Rougon Macquart than between
you, myself, other people and our first parents, Adam
and Eve."25
In Germinal Etienne is the only member of the Rougon
Macquart family portrayed. He is linked to his family in
two ways: first, by some early references to his mother,
Gervaise, when he tells Catherine Maheu something of his
past, and second, by the hereditary taint of his clan,
manifested in his own case by a predisposition for violence,
when drunk. Heredity here is manifested only by a personal!
25Living Age. 222:139, July 15, 1899.
198
weakness. German critics were quick to observe that this
is a rather unscientific process.
It was pointed out that the hereditary influence of
Adelaide, the ancestress of the family, could not be as
great as Zola would have us believe, since the members
of the family have married into other families and thus
in trod viced new hereditary influences. Nature is less
logical and cruel than Zola. Zola was attempting the
impossible in trying to portray the workings of heredity.
(Root, p. 27)
Is there any other aspect of Zola's novels which sug
gests intangible influence upon the characters? Returning
to Edouard Rod's cross-examination of an ordinary reader,
By proceeding according to the Socratic method, from
question to question, we might lead our man to say: "Ah,
I see this, too; all the persons presented are what they
are because of an outside force, over which they have
no control, which governs and directs them. They are
merely marionettes, operated by strings and dependent
upon the hand that pulls the strings. I do not see the
strings or the hands, but I am certain that the per
sonages are not free and independent." (Pp. 139-140)
This picture implies a mood of fatalism pervading Zola's
novels. If fatalism is involved, the "scientific approach"
and the creed of the naturalistic writers--to unveil evils
so that they may be remedied--hardly seems logical.
George W. Meyer, in an article entitled "The Original
Social Purpose of the Naturalistic Novel," discusses this
point at length. He says that naturalistic novels are
often called pessimistic because of their fatalistic
199
approach. This is the result of a misunderstanding.
"Fatalism" is the view of life that events are the product
of inevitable causes. "Determinism" is that view of life
in which events are the product of imnediate causes.
Naturalistic novels are deterministic, not fatalistic.
Zola, in particular,
. . . insists that men can and will correct social
evils, once their determinism has been divulged, just as
medical science could and did control tuberculosis, once
its determinism had been sufficiently disengaged.26
In Germinal there arises at times a sense of futility.
Where Zola indicates his characters are controlled by their
heredity, fatalism prevails. It is conceivable that some
time in the future heredity may be considered a factor
which man can control, but science in Zola's time, as in
ours, seems relatively limited in effectively changing
man's fate through this means. £tierme's struggle against
any manifestations of his hereditary curse and the passive
resignation of the miners to their tribulations, bred in
them through the generations, are instances where heredity
seems to present an almost fatalistic picture.
26
Sewanee Review, 50:569, October 1942.
200
An examination of several characters in Germinal may
offer a suggestion as to whether the novel is deterministic
or fatalistic.
Etienne is an outsider to the mining community. As
such, he sees the mine and its injustices more clearly than
do those whom he considers dumb brutes content to suffer as
slaves. He is more prone to start agitation in the mine
than any of the original workers. He struggles with a
hereditary curse--a tendency toward violence and even
murder after drinking. In a drunken brawl he overcomes the
hated Chaval, but has the self control to restrain himself
from killing. Later in the mine shaft, perhaps intoxicated
by hatred and hunger, but not alcohol, he slays Chaval with
a single blow. Here he seems in the first instance to have
resisted the inevitable as represented by his family curse
through the power of his will. When he does kill Chaval,
as he is not under the influence of alcohol, the deed seems
an ironical twist of fate akin to that which Thomas Hardy
was so fond of. As Etienne does not suffer for having
killed Chaval (aside from the fact that the presence of the
body adds horror to their plight when trapped in the cave),
it would appear that Zola was not trying to sharpen his
201
irony in this episode.
When Chaval takes Catherine as his mate by brute
force, Zola tells us that she accepts him with the resigna
tion of her race, accustomed to early, involuntary breed
ing. Indeed the whole history of Catherine is a catalogue
of the many tragedies which life in the mines may force
upon a young girl. Her passivity and resignation are simi
lar to that of her mother and father--all apparently bom
to accept persecution. When Maheu and La Maheude are
excited to action in the course of the riots, Zola reminds
us that their insane frenzy when finally aroused is another
characteristic of their race.
The elements of heredity are there, but so are other
elements which indicate that Zola was not fatalistic.
First, the miners did throw off the shackles of their
hereditary resignation and revolt. Their failure was
artistically framed by Zola in such a way as to be the
announcement of an impending success. The boy, Jeanlin,
reacted against his hereditary bonds of resignation and,
contrary to the integrity of his family, became an ego-
centered tyrant, compulsive criminal, even a murderer.
His portrait is clearly the composite result of his working
202
environment, a clever mind, and too much idle time after
he is crippled by the mine.
Catherine1s other brother, Zacharie, is another mani
festation of divergence from the passive resignation of the
majority of the miners. A never-do-well who works only to
buy his beer and who shirks his responsibility to family
and mistress, Zacharie is energized into action when he
realizes that Catherine is trapped in the mine. His Gar
gantuan labor and selflessness at this point are inconsist
ent with his role in the book up to this time. Here Zola
underlines the suggestion that Zacharie might have been a
person of strength of will and strength of character if he
had been given the chance by society.
The variety of responses to oppression as represented
by the various members of the Maheu family indicates that
environment more than heredity shaped their lives.
Clearly, Zola tried to represent hereditary influences in
his total picture of the miseries in Germinal, but in his
own mind the environmental conditions were an integral
factor in the shaping and consummation of the tragedy.
Zola’s novels are not a picture of man at his inevi
table and irredeemable worst. Rather they are a thesis
203
that man is the victim of his circumstances. Implicit in
this thesis is the notion that literature shall have a
mission. Similarly, Zola contradicts the beliefs that
beauty is the aim of art or that art should merely be in
tended to give enjoyment to a cultured and refined few.
On these points Zola and Tolstoy seem much in agreement.
Zola's immediate goal in art was, he claimed, the truth,
while Tolstoy's was shared emotional experience. Their
purposes were more similar. Tolstoy stated that one of
the objectives of art was to unite man with man. Zola is
not far from this motive in his personal comments about
Germinal.
In 1885, directly after the publication of Germinal.
he defends himself--and rightly--for having "calumniated
the wretched," and proceeds to say, "I have only one
desire; to excite such a deep pity, such a cry of jus
tice that France will at last cease to let herself be
devoured by a handful of politicians. (Barbusse, p. 169)
While a statement like this would appear to cinch the case
for those contending that Zola was a conscious social re
former, it must be remembered that this quotation invali
dates the scientific objectivity he claimed for Germinal
in preparation for writing the novel, as well as his
general thesis in the experimental novel. Rather than
performing a scientific experiment, he admits he is trying
204
to evoke pity and stimulate a sense of justice based on
a sense of brotherhood among all men. Zola did not seem to
feel that he was contradicting himself. We must decide for
ourselves whether one statement, or the other, or neither
is worthy evidence.
The truth Zola sought in his writing has been dis
cussed elsewhere (see pp. 184-188). There are aspects of
truth which his novels do reveal although Zola was in many
ways relatively narrow and one-sided in his portrayals.
He has often been criticized for indecency. His defenders,
on the other hand, see in his departure from arbitrary
standards of decency the observance of a subtle historical
truth.
. . . Lindau had spoken of unalterable codes of
decency which represented the highest flowering of human
culture. The younger critics answered: "Does not the
history of culture and morals teach us rather just the
opposite? Is not everything which we call respectability
and decency subjected to a continuous process of read
justment? Is not morality something fluid which obeys
the universal laws of evolution? Here we have the basic
antagonism. . . .
The very fact that they themselves [the German
Naturalists] had to fight the rule of conventional
morality made them turn more eagerly to Zola. To them
he seemed to represent that which was lacking in German
literature: moral courage and a desire to know the
truth. (Root, pp. 51-53)
Several critics attempt to look at Zola’s novels objec
tively and draw their own personal conclusions about the
205
meaning or purpose of life embodied therein. Two of these
are worthy of note. R. E. S. Hart writes:
Most of our moral characters are but the results of
habits and circumstances, and if we cannot praise them,
neither can we
plead the same
A few of Zola's characters, Hart goes on to say, like real
personalities, occasionally rise above this.
Vernon Lee, discussing ’’The Moral Teachings of Zola,”
perceives with similar subtlety that Zola deals with indi
viduals weighted down by the "grind” of life.
Each of his books is the exhibition of some of those
vast mechanisms which the tyranny of the "line of least
resistance" has forced upon mankind, or, rather, has
made mankind i n t o . 28
Lee states in another place,
I have alluded to the lesson derivable from Zola's
novels. It is, I think, the lesson of the constant
tendency to minimize the good results of anything— of
virtue, knowledge, courage, civilization, where anyone
of them exists. . . . (P. 264)
What does all this add up to? Zola's novels have met
with a series of varied reactions. He was consciously
guilty of leading his public astray. His theory of the
27
"Zola’s Philosophy of Life," Fortnightly Review.
66:270, August 1896.
28
Contemporary Review, 63:200, February 1893.
consistently blame the vicious, who can
as an excuse.27
206
"experimental novel" was a farce which kept critics from
seeing clearly the poetic, evocative quality of his height*
ened, romantic prose passages. In the Rougon Macquart
series he sought to study the effects of heredity and en
vironment on a single family during the course of the
Second Efripire, yet he did not seem to distinguish between
the two and comprehend the philosophical ramifications
proceeding from such a distinction. He asserted his objec
tivity on one hand and admitted an intent to sway his
readers on the other. Critics have reacted in a variety
of ways both to his literary theories, his work, and the
interaction of the two.
The key to all this lies in our discussion of the
individuality and sincerity of the artist (see pp. 178-182
and 185-187). While Zola's "truth" was often broad and
honest in one sense, it was narrow and one-sided in another.
Zola's experimental method was not an objective, scientific
experiment, but rather a process whereby a collection of
objective facts and experiences evoked a response in his
own individual mental and emotional makeup. Just as a man
may write down all the data he knows in the process of
determining his own answer to a problem, Zola's novels are
207
a part of the same type of process, though emotion as well
as logic are involved. Henry James recounts a conversation
with Zola while visiting Flaubert’s home.
"I was struck with the tone in which he made the
announcement, without bravado and without apology, simply
as an interesting idea that had come to him, and that he
was working really to arrive at character, and particular
truth, with all his conscience; just as I was struck with
the unqualified interest that his plan excited. . . .
It was on a plan he was working, formidably, almost
grimly as his fatigued face and round shoulders showed."
The social and natural history of Les Rougon-Macquart
was the truth to Zola. It was only because of his in
tense vision of this truth that he could have gone on
with the long concentrated merciless effort which was
making and stamping him. (Josephson, p. 217)
Zola was sincere in his art. What he wrote about his
art was not so sincere. In Germinal his own individual
vision of the truth of a social situation is given. His
facts were first collected. Then his problem was set up:
His subtitle is "Master and Man"; it is their conflict
that engrosses him. Nothing is allowed to disturb this
focus. Incidents are cleverly built up to the inevitable
climax; the forces involved are contrasted by juxtaposing
scenes in mansion and mine. Dozens of characters are
distinguished deftly, and sympathy for them is evoked
with amazing economy.^9
In the course of his creativity, the reforming spirit,
dormant in Zola's active life until the Dreyfus case, makes
29
R. M. Kain, "Test of Time— Germinal. " Saturday
Review of Literature. April 3, 1937, p. 9.
208
itself apparent in his work as his materials stimulate him
and his readers to a state of indignation over social
inequalities. In the same way it is the interaction of
Zola's material with his personal indignation which stirs
him to picture oppressed humanity struggling for a better
life. In the words of Benjamin W. Wells,
The magnificent descriptive scenes are treated in the
same spirit. The strikers as they march past, haggard
men and ragged hags, . . . are a symbol of the revolt of
brutalized labour. What if their cry be silenced with
bullets? We feel that it has marked another hour in
labour's night and brought one step nearer the dawn of
a new social day. (P. 300)
CHAPTER IV
THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN
Introduction and General Observations
Huckleberry Finn differs greatly from Anna Karenina
and Germinal. Though this American classic is undeniably
unique, it, unlike Germinal, reveals many qualities closely
related to the artistic precepts presented in What is Art?
Its originality, its subject matter, its wide popularity,
and its revelation of the basic worth of the human per
sonality all strongly suggest values akin to those articu
lated by Tolstoy.
Tolstoy contended that art should be of value for all
men. The artist should seek to share the feelings he has
experienced. And, finally, art should deal in its subject
matter with the life and problems of the common man.
Mark Twain’s masterpiece, Huckleberry Finn, exhibits
these qualities. The subject matter of the novel concerns
the story of a man and a boy drifting down river on a raft.
209
210
The man is a runaway slave searching for a freedom he has
never experienced. The boy, unaccustomed to conformity,
responds in terms of natural morality rather than the
bigoted values and traditional prejudices of the society
from which he is by choice an outcast. This situation
gives rise to questions concerning basic rights and the
worth of the individual human personality.
Huck and Jim are simple, almost primitive beings,
though neither is very naive about human nature and neither
is savage. Both are warm and likeable, though they operate
on a level of existence where survival is by no means
certain and depends upon a facile use of the wits. When
Huck and Jim touch shore, they encounter other human
beings. These, too, are common people in that they repre
sent a cross section of the South. The Grangerfords and
Colonel Sherbum are stereotypes of honor-bound human
beings, but they reflect genuine elements of the pre-Civil
War South.
Twain used his own experiences in his art. The
origins of almost every scene in Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry
Finn stem from the boyhood experiences of the author. Yet
the scenes as they appear in these books often bear little
211
resemblance to the author's original experience. A study
of how Twain has changed these experiences as he incor
porated them into his novel should offer insights into his
techniques and should offer evidence as to whether his
writing was the re-creation of emotions he had felt.
Many of the qualities of genuine art as characterized
in Tolstoy's What is Art? are readily apparent in Huckle
berry Finn. Twain's individuality as a man of letters is
marked. His humor often constitutes an original way of
looking at the ordinary. His literary style, which has
been both applauded and condemned, is highly original.
Clarity of expression is so basic that Huckleberry Finn,
while not a children's book, has often been recommended
as one. The quality of sincerity may not be as readily
apparent as are those of individuality and clarity. Many
of his episodes seem to be related with tongue-in-cheek,
but if his purpose in saying what he does is carefully
examined, it will be found that he was not lacking in
sincerity in his art.
The moral of Huckleberry Finn is not didactically ex
pressed within the work as was the case with the pieces
written by Tolstoy in his later years. In fact, Twain
212
makes some effort in his preface to disclaim the presence
of a moral or theme. In his Autobiographv. however, he has
categorically stated that the novel centers around the
struggle between the heart and the conscience of a young
boy.^ The heart wins. The inclination of Huck's heart is
to aid his friend, the runaway slave Jim. His conscience
reflects the attitude of the Southern white community which
denied that men with dark skin have any of the attributes
of normal human beings. One is inclined to feel that
Huck's conscience was the better directed of the two. This
problem suggests both the qualities Tolstoy felt art should
seek to present: the highest moral insights of the times,
and those emotional experiences which remind the reader of
his natural legacy as a member of the human race--his
brotherhood with all mankind.
These general observations indicate that The Adven
tures of Huckleberry Finn shows a considerable conformity
to the critical insights proffered in What is Art? This
leads naturally to the next question. What, to Mark Twain,
was art?
^Samuel Clemens, The Autobiography of Mark Twain.
ed. by Charles Neider (New York, 1959), p. 153.
213
From Emotional Experience Into Artistic Form
(What Is Art? ^
There are a great many similarities between Twain’s
writing and Tolstoy’s description of art in What is Art?
For Tolstoy, art was the process whereby the artist or
writer shared the emotions he derived from his own personal
experiences with the spectator or reader. Twain himself
may not have undergone the emotional experiences developed
in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. He did, however,
draw the material for his book from his own boyhood experi
ence. His Autobioeraphv offers ample evidence of this.
Early in this rambling, but intriguing, account of his life
and thoughts he comments that he used the Quarles farm,
where as a boy he often spent the summer, for the settings
in Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer, Detective. Twain says that
his only change was to move the farm to Arkansas. He jests
that moving the entire farm from one state to the other may
seem like a monumental task, but in the interests of litera
ture, he would have done it even if it were twice as large
(Aut ob ioeraphv. p. 4).
More sobering experiences are often recorded in his
Autobiography. On one occasion young Sam Clemens witnessed
214
a man being shot down on the street (p. 41). This incident
immediately suggests the scene in Huck Finn where Colonel
Sherburn guns down the belligerent but helpless drunk,
Boggs. It is difficult to believe that Twain1s reaction
to this experience was not violent and lasting enough to
influence him years later when he wrote the Boggs“Sherburn
scene.
The Quarles farm and the man murdered in the street
are only two of many items that could be documented to show
the correlation between the boyhood experiences of Sam
Clemens and the scenes presented in Huck Finn. James
Bennett indicates that Twain wrote solely from experience,
but that his experiences were modified by his artistic
touch.
The reality of all is not the routine reality of the
actual, but the reality of poetry. Mark once told
Brander Matthews that there was no episode in either
"Tom" or "Huck” vrtiich had not "actually happened, either
to me or to one or another of the boys I had known."
What Mark did with those actual happenings was to touch
them with the mellow light of forty years of fond recol
lection. 2
2
James O'Donnell Bennett, "How ’Huckleberry Finn’ was
Written," Best Loved Books: Best Sellers of the Ages (New
York, 1927), p. 221.
215
It is clear, then, that the material for Huck Finn
originated primarily in the author's personal experience.
At the same time that this similarity to Tolstoy's art is
affirmed, it becomes obvious that Twain did not seek to use
this real experience as Tolstoy did--to re-create for his
readers those emotions which he had felt. Twain wrote in
"the mellow light . . . of fond recollection," and many of
the incidents he described were originally experiences of
others.
Twain's purpose in drawing from real experience must
be examined. He offers the best clue to this himself. In
an entry in his Notebook is the notation of plans for an
article in the Princeton Review to be published in April
1880, but which was never completed.
. . . If you attempt to create a wholly imaginary
incident, adventure or situation, you will go astray, and
the artificiality of the thing will be detectable, but if
you found on a fact in your personal experience it is an
acorn, a root, and every created adornment that grows up
out of it and spreads its foliage and blossoms to the sun
will seem reality not invention. You will not be likely
to go astray; your compass of fact is there to keep you
on the right course.3
Franklin Rogers observes of this quotation:
3
Samuel Clemens, Mark Twain's Notebook (New York,
1935), pp. 192-193.
216
. . . Twain does not claim that the finished incident
in the story is a fact from one's personal experience.
He says that the fact is "an acorn, a nut" upon which
the "created adornment" grows to hide the fact under a
spreading and blossoming foliage of invention. The aim
is to produce a seeming reality, not to reproduce
actuality.^
It is apparent that Twain was striving for verisimili
tude when he used actual experience as the nucleus around
which he developed his literary episodes. He was not
consciously trying to re-create the feeling he had experi
enced earlier himself. The scene where Huck witnessed the
drunken Boggs being shot down in the street by Colonel
Sherburn amply illustrates this. As was mentioned before,
Sam Clemens as a boy saw a man shot down in the street in
Hannibal. It is impossible that this scene did not produce
an intense emotional impression upon his young mind. It is
equally impossible that Samuel Clemens could have avoided
reflecting upon how this incident affected him when as Mark
Twain he created the Boggs-Sherburn incident in Huck Finn.
Yet while this scene is memorable, it is enigmatic.
Although critics often refer to it as one of the great
^Franklin R. Rogers, Mark Twain's Burlesque Patterns:
As Seen in the Novels and Narratives 1855-1858 (Dallas,
1960), p. 157.
217
scenes in Huck Finn, few attempt to interpret it. Occa
sionally Sherburn is condemned for murdering the helpless
Boggs. More frequently, though, no judgment will be made
of Sherburn1s act, and the Colonel will be applauded as a
hero for facing the mob bent on lynching him. Huck seems
to see all and report all without judgment. Using this
technique of recording the incident as seen objectively
through the eyes of a young boy, Twain was able to effect
the scene without giving the reader any clue as to his own
emotional reaction.
While many of the scenes that are considered Twain's
best have this objective quality, his writing, like that of
all great novelists, often does evoke an emotional response.
Tolstoy repeatedly stated that art should be infectious--
that is, of such a nature that the feelings of the writer
should take hold of the reader. There is ample evidence
that Twain understood and valued the infectious nature of
human emotion. In the Autobiography he relates a story
about his mother and aunt, notable homebodies, who decided
after many years to attend a minstrel show. The audience
had seen its share of minstrel shows, and this particular
troupe offered no fresh material. The jokes were old
218
and stale, but for the two women they were new and stimu
lating. Twain tells us that his mother and aunt cackled
with glee while the rest of the house was at first silent,
but,
. . . The laughter of my novices went on and till
their hilarity became contagious and the whole sixteen
hundred joined in and shook the place with the thunders
of their joy.
Aunt Betsy and my mother achieved a brilliant success
for the Christy minstrels that night, for all the jokes
were as new to them as they were old to the rest of the
house. They received them with screams of laughter and
passed the hilarity on, and the audience left the place
sore and weary with laughter and full of gratitude to
the innocent pair that had furnished to their jaded
souls that rare and precious pleasure. (P. 63)
At other places in the Autobiography, Twain relates
how as a lecturer he had to rely on the response and under
standing of a few to stimulate and infect the rest of his
audience with a mood receptive to humor.
While Twain's stark portrayals of the pre-Civil War
South lacked infectiousness, his humorous episodes defi
nitely reflected this quality. The scenes centering around
the mock liberation of Nigger Jim from the chicken house
rely on the infectious quality of humor to make them
plausible. A serious reader may frown at Twain's satires
on boyish imagination, and many critics do exactly that.
Yet a reader in search of humor will find this much
criticized section of Huck Finn the most rewarding.
The infectious quality of Twain’s writing is to be
found in other scenes besides those that are essentially
comic. As Huck drifts down the Mississippi River, an
awareness of the beauty of his surroundings crosses his
mind. His reaction is not that of a rugged, unlettered
young boy, but rather that of a mature man sensitive to
nature. It is suggested that feeling is conveyed by these
descriptive scenes. An examination of any one of many
passages wherein Twain describes the scenic beauty of the
river should offer sufficient evidence that the writer's
emotions were affected by the beauty of the original scene
and that he sought to re-create a similar emotional effect
for his reader.
. . . It was my watch below till twelve, but I
wouldn't 'a turned in anyway if I'd had a bed, because
a body don't see such a storm as that every day in the
week, not by a long sight. My souls, how the wind did
scream along! And every second or two there's come a
glare that lit up the white-caps for a half a mile
around, and you'd see the islands looking dusty through
the rain, and the trees thrashing around in the wind;
then comes a h-whack! bum! Bum! Bumble-umble-um-um-
bum-bum-bum— and the thunder would go rumbling and
grumbling away, and quit— and then rip comes another
flash and another sock-dolager. The waves most washed
me off the raft sometimes, but I hadn't any clothes on,
and didn't mind. We didn't have no trouble about
snags; the lightning was glaring and flittering around
220
so constant that we could see them plenty soon enough
to throw her head this way or that and miss them.
In his descriptions of nature Twain seems to have
re-created his own emotional experiences for the benefit of
his readers. In these passages his writing conforms to
Tolstoy*s definition of art. From two other viewpoints
the infectiousness of the emotions emanating from Twain’s
literary scenes suggests similarities to Tolstoy’s artistic
theories. Twain's method of character portrayal reveals
a similarity in technique to that used by Tolstoy in his
masterpieces, and the strange blend of humor and pathos to
be found in certain passages of Huck Finn catches the ele
mental qualities of human nature which Tolstoy in his What
is Art? proclaimed that art should illuminate.
Just as Tolstoy could create a memorable scene or a
warm, living character almost by instinct, Twain, though
he belittled his own ability to construct character, had a
certain flair for bringing his creations to life. Edward
Wagenknecht has observed that Twain was right in consider
ing himself weak at characterization:
^Samuel Clemens, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
(New York, 1912), pp. 177-178.
221
. . . if by a gift for characterization one under
stands the faculty of constructing a character as
Thackeray and Flaubert and William Dean Howells possessed
it, or the ability to portray a complex type against the
realized background of a highly involved civilization.
On the other hand, his ability to evoke character, as
distinct from constructing it, is very great. . . . It
is this touch of genius, that burning fitfully and
erratically, glorifies much of even Mark Twain's second-
rate work and will always hold the attention of dis
criminating readers, despite the obvious faults and
crudenesses writ large over his achievements.
When Huck plays a practical joke on Jim, pretending
that a dangerous adventure in the fog was only one of the
colored man's dreams, Jim is hurt. He has revealed his
tenderness in his concern for the boy's safety, and now
Huck is laughing at this tenderness. Twain's subtle touch
here affords an insight into the basic humanity of Jim's
nature. When the troubled Huck owns up to his wrong and
apologizes to a "nigger," his natural honesty is revealed
(Huck Finn, pp. 121-122). In these scenes the emotional
impact of the scene adds to the character development in
the same manner that Tolstoy's scenes developed an image
of his characters in the readers' minds (see Chapter II
above, pp. 67-72).
£
Edward Wagenknecht, Mark Twain: The Man and his Work
(New Haven, 1935), p. 60.
222
The warm humanity reflected in this scene and in
others between Huck and Jim exemplifies one of the purposes
Tolstoy claimed for art— to create for the readers those
emotions which remind them of their brotherhood with all
men. Tolstoy felt that one of the writers who accomplished
this objective was Charles Dickens. The elemental mixture
of pathos and humor which Gladys Bellamy finds to be so
similar in Twain and Dickens accounts for much of the
warmth in both authors.
. . . Yet anyone who knows Mark Twain*s work recog
nizes in it much of the Dickensian brand of humor, the
humor inextricably mixed with sadness . . . the art of
blending humor with pathos— Mark Twain reaches it in
Huckleberry Finn and Nigger Jim. The soft haze in which
it lies robs it of all anger. Huck Finn could have
stepped across the pages of Dickens. This aspect of
Mark Twain's humor is integral in the nature of his
art. 7
One other comment should be made about the basic
nature of Twain’s art as critically examined in the light
of Tolstoy's precepts. While Tolstoy placed little empha
sis on humor, he dwelled at length on the infectiousness
of art. Twain realized that humor is the most infectious
of human emotions. This he sensed and relied upon. His
7
Gladys Carmen Bellamy, Mark Twain as a Literary
Artist (Norman, Oklahoma, 1950), p. 52.
223
unique mind afforded him the ability to observe an object
or an incident from a perspective somewhat apart from the
ordinary. The juxtaposition of the object and Twain's
reflection upon it present the reader with a ludicrously
incongruous mental picture which stimulates a feeling of
amusement. In commenting on the mechanics necessary to
draw laughter from a lecture audience, Twain showed an
awareness of how a new or unfamiliar perspective creates
laughter.
. . . A pause after the remark was absolutely neces
sary with any and all audiences because no man, howsoever
intelligent he may be, can instantly adjust his mind to
a new and unfamiliar, and yet for a moment or two appar
ently plausible, logic which recognizes in a dog an
instrument too indifferent to pious restraints and too
alert in looking out for his own personal interest to be
safely depended upon in an emergency requiring self-
sacrifice for another, even when the command comes from
on high. (Autobioeraphv. p. 185)
The details of the anecdote Twain was analysing are not
important. More pertinent is the fact that he exhibited an
objective, rather mechanical analysis of the makeup of
humor. The juxtaposition of a situation with an unusual or
unique perspective of it is the basic ingredient of Twain's
humor. Huck's observation on the garter snakes that he and
Tom had collected but allowed to escape in the farm house
offers an example of this:
224
. . . And so we went for the snakes, and grabbed
a couple dozen garters and house"snakes, and put them
In a bag, and put It In our room, and by that time it
was supper-time, and a rattling good honest day's work;
and hungry?— oh no, X reckon not! And there wam't a
blessed snake up there when we went back--we didn't half
tie the sack, and they worked out somehow, and left.
But it didn't matter much, because they was still on the
premises somewhere. So we judged we could get some of
them again. No, there wam't no real scarcity of snakes
about the house for a considerable spell. You'd see
them dripping from the rafters and places every now and
then; and they generly landed in your plate, or down the
back of your neck, and most of the time where you didn't
want them. Well, they was handsome and striped, and
there wam't no harm in a million of them; but that
never made no difference to Aunt Sally. . . .
(Huck Finn, p. 381)
In attempting to answer the question ' ’ What makes Mark
Twain's writing great?" the episodic nature of his novels
must be taken into account. Bernard De Voto has observed
that Twain
. . . took the humorous anecdote, combined it with
autobiographical reminiscence and so achieved the nar
rative form best adapted to his mind. . , . The mode of
creation that expressed him was a loosely flowing narra
tive, actually or fictitiously autobiographical--a cur
rent interrupted for the presentation of episodes for
merely the telling of stories.
De Voto goes on to say that the anecdotes that find
their places as interludes in the flow of Twain's narrative
g
Bernard De Voto, Mark Twain's America (Chautauqua,
1933), pp. 244-245.
225
illustrate the humorist and novelist at his best. De Voto
is right in this observation. Twain's anecdotal method is
undeniably a part of the individuality of his art. Our
examination of Huck Finn in the light of Tolstoy's critical
precepts has brought to light several specific qualities
which are essential elements of his literary creativity.
These include: (1) a clear and distinct correlation between
the author's personal experience and the episodes presented
in the novel; (2) an infectious quality of emotional ex
perience emanating from both the humorous and more serious
scenes in the book. This infectiousness is an integral
part of his humor, his descriptions of nature, and his
character development. It also accounts for a great deal
of the warmth of human feeling conveyed through the pages
of Huck Finn. Finally, the essential quality of Twain's
humor is his ability to observe a situation from a fresh
and unique perspective.
Counterfeit Art versus Genuine Art
Counterfeit Art
When Huck Finn is examined for the qualities which
Tolstoy labeled as counterfeit art, many similarities in
the work of Twain and Tolstoy appear.
226
Borrowing from literature and tradition. Scholars
continually seek to uncover sources which have, in some
way, influenced great writers. It is not surprising,
therefore, that several men have devoted extensive time and
effort to a study of literary influences upon Mark Twain.
In view of the fact that so much of a book like Huck Finn
stems from ClemensT own experience and so much of its
success is directly attributable to the author's own indi
viduality, it is suggested that this search for literary
influences has been over-extended. For example, Minnie
Brashear has listed the books contained in private
libraries in and around Hannibal when Sam Clemens was a
9
boy. Her assumption is, of course, that Sam would have
read everything of value to which he might conceivably have
had access. Many other scholars seem to have accepted
without qualification this assumption in order to be able
to write more about the literary influences which shaped
young Sam Clemens into Mark Twain. Their efforts are only
as valuable as this initial assumption is valid.
9
Minnie M. Brashear, Mark Twain: Son of Missouri
(Chapel Hill, 1934), pp. 196-224.
in
This study will contend that Twain owes very little
to the influence of literary tradition. This contention is
made with the knowledge that there is a great deal of
critical writing to the contrary. E. Hudson Long's The
Mark Twain Handbook devotes a section to a summary of the
writings which trace the evidence of possible literary
influences on Twain.^
Twain expressed reactions to literary and cultural
influences which are amazingly like those of Tolstoy.
Gladys Bellamy has observed that Twain was, in general,
impervious to aesthetics, but enthralled by nature. By
this she meant that he seemed little impressed with men's
attempts to create beauty, but thrilled with nature's.
How readily this suggests the aged Tolstoy denouncing in
What is Art? the theatre, the painting, and the literature
of his day because it was not natural! Miss Bellamy says
that Twain loved Negro spirituals but deplored Wagner and
opera in general, at least until long after he had com
pleted Huck Finn. Again the predilection for the natural
or more primitive as opposed to the ultra-refined is
^E. Hudson Long, The Mark Twain Handbook (New York,
1951), pp. 305-311.
228
readily apparent in the musical tastes of the two novelists.
Finally, Miss Bellamy completes her picture of Twain by
indicating that he read extensively, but more in history
than literature. She includes an often quoted expression
of his dislike for the novels of Jane Austin. Implicit in
this observation, perhaps, is the fact that Twain could not
countenance a world that was too limited to seem complete
to him, a world without significant action and room for
energetic men to air their natural and boisterous natures.
Here, again, Twain and Tolstoy would be of the same mettle
(Bellamy, pp. 41-44).
While Twain's literary contributions are primarily the
product of his own unique nature, there are three instances
where literary influence should be investigated. These
influences include a poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes, an
early Western frontier newspaper, and a novel, Miguel de
Cervantes' Don Quixote de la Mancha.
In his Autobiographv Twain relates candidly how he
dashed off a poem in dedication of The Innocents Abroad and
was later shown that he had unknowingly reproduced a poem
by Oliver Wendell Holmes which he had read much earlier.
Twain completes the story by telling how he asked and
229
received Holmes’ forgiveness via correspondence (p. 151).
This incident had no further consequences. It does serve
to remind the scholar, though, that one man's influence
upon another may be more precise than is realized even by
the one influenced. This idea must be balanced against our
major contention that very little from literature and tra
dition is reflected in Mark Twain's writing.
Franklin Rogers in Mark Twain's Burlesque Patterns:
As Seen in the Novels and Narratives 1855-1858 studies
Twain’s techniques as a columnist on several frontier news
papers. Taking his cue from the technique of other jour
nalists, Mark Twain wrote his column in the form of a
dialogue between an educated, energetic, and inexperienced
"greenhorn" and an unlettered, realistic, and literal "old
timer." In his Letters From the Sandwich Islands. Twain
perfected this technique, writing his famous Mr. Twain-
Mr. Brown letters. Mr. Twain was the educated, romantic,
and energetic traveler reacting to all that he saw with
refinement, imagination, and enthusiasm. Mr. Brown, whose
vision was unimpaired by the curtain of culture, saw merely
what was there. This contrasting of views suggests imme
diately the relationship of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza
230
in Cervantes' novel. Rogers suggests that this dialogue
technique is apparent and compounded in Twain's structure
of Huck Finn.
By treating his major characters in pairs and model
ing each pair on the Twain-Brown axis, Twain has produced
a major contradiction in Huck, whose orientation on the
axis shifts toward one end or the other as he moves from
relationship to relationship. (P. 142)
Thus, when Huck is with Jim, the boy is the idealist and
dreamer while Jim is the "Mr. Brown." Conversely, when
Huck listens to the mock-heroic schemes of Tom Sawyer, Huck
has moved to the other end of the pole and is "Mr. Brown"
while Tom is "Mr. Twain." The Duke and the King are also
cited by Rogers as another example of Twain's use of this
contrasting dialogue technique.
Rogers' study seems sound. He shows that Twain in his
formative years learned the techniques of frontier journal
ism. Twain's extensive use of dialogue, his travel story
technique, and the episodic quality of even his greatest
novel, Huck Finn, suggest other ways in which his literary
approach was conditioned by the requirements of his early
frontier journalism.
Huck Finn does reveal a certain similarity to one
aspect of Don Quixote de la Mancha. The contrast between
231
Don Quixote, the unrealistic visionary, and Sancho Panza,
the hard-headed, objective realist, seems re-created as
Tom Sawyer directs the incredulous Huck in their effort to
free Jim from the chicken house. There is no doubt that
Twain enjoyed contrasting the views of the dreamer with the
realist, but some critics have made too much of this.
Their thinking is predicated upon the idea that Twain, like
Cervantes, was consciously contrasting the world of the
romantic dreamer with that of the realist. More to the
point, however, is the influence of the frontier journal
ist. As Franklin Rogers has indicated, the Tom-Huck con
trast is much more akin to the Mr. Twain-Mr. Brown model
than to that of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Most cer
tainly Twain is more interested in burlesque humor than
literary satire. In both purpose and influence Twain is
farther from Cervantes than he is from the frontier
humorists.
E. Hudson Long in The Mark Twain Handbook indicates,
in this compilation of Twain studies, three major sources
which may have influenced Twain's writing--the Bible.
Cervantes, and Dickens. Long records Samuel Clemens' claim
that he was unable to complete a novel by Dickens. Yet the
232
similarities in the humor of the two novelists compelled
him to list the Englishman as an influence on the American.
In general, Long's summary from a rather exhaustive com
pilation of Twain criticism indicates that Samuel Clemens
had read a rich variety of literature though not too much
of it was fiction (pp. 305-311).
Although he has been faithful to his task of compiling
the observations and opinions of many literary critics,
E. Hudson Long indicates in his concluding remarks that
Twain's indebtedness to literary tradition may be mini
mized .
. . . It is difficult to evaluate Twain's own state
ments of his sources for the same reason that his Auto
biography must be carefully weighed on the scales of
established fact. But when all scholarly returns are in
and the counts of his literary sources are tallied, the
essential truth, if not the actual fact, of Mark's
indebtedness to his own experience persists. (P. 311)
Bernard De Voto, the second executor of Twain's
literary estate, echoes this opinion in an essay, "Mark
Twain and the Limits of Criticism." He debunks the efforts
of critics to assess the influence of one writer upon
another.
Striking parallels and similarities appear in litera
ture not because writers are influenced by one another
but because there are striking parallels and similarities
in human experience. Literature has similar patterns
233
because the patterns of life repeat themselves. Human
experience, infinitely various in detail, is eternally
the same in the basic emotions with which literature
deal.11
Applying this general concept to the specific, De Voto
scoffs at the idea that Twain wrote in the tradition of
Cervantes when he contrasted Tom and Huck. Rather, Twain
used his own experiences as the raw material with which he
entered the artistic process.
The situations, emotions and sentiments of The Adven
tures of Tom Sawyer are those of life itself, for which
Cervantes held no title in fee simple. They are ob-
viously, flagrantly, clamorously the fantasies of Mark
Twain moving among the known circumstances of his boy
hood in the landscape of his experience. That is
precisely why Tom Sawyer is a great book: because as we
at once recognize from our own experience, it is shaped
by life--not because it is influenced by Cervantes.
(Forays and Rebuttals, p. 390)
In this commentary on Twain’s novels it is remarkable
how closely De Voto's concept of Twain as novelist ap
proaches Tolstoy's definition of an artist--one who shapes
his material in order to re-create for his fellow men the
emotions he has experienced.
In another essay, "Mark Twain: The Ink of History,"
De Voto notes another aspect in which Twain's practice
“ ^ Forays and Rebuttals (Boston, 1936), p. 388.
234
as an artist shows a marked similarity to Tolstoy's theory
of art. Twain followed no critical canons when he wrote
Huck Finn. He chose rather to express himself in his own
way. Tolstoy stated that the genuine artist should not
be bound by precepts, but should express his own creative
nature. In this respect, again, Twain was close to
Tolstoy.
Mark Twain, both critical traditions assure us, was
"absolutely unconscious of all canons of literary art."
But what does that mean? Only that the life of the new
America was a new life, changed forever from what Ameri
can life had been before, and the expression it found
was necessarily new also— and very strange. Criticism
must necessarily be absolutely unconscious of the canons
of an art that expressed this new native life--and so
must honestly, sincerely, and with the deepest regret
tell us that it had no canons. (Forays and Rebuttals.
p. 360)
Imitation of real life. To Tolstoy one of the ear
marks of counterfeit art was the exact reproduction of a
scene, incident, or object. The artist must reshape and
control his raw material from real life, not in order to
reproduce that life, but to reproduce the feeling which he
derived from the original experience. No critic would
accuse Twain of merely reproducing his own experiences.
His writing bears the stamp of his own Individual mind too
well. It is worthwhile to examine various ways in which
235
Twain avoids this "imitation of real life" and yet succeeds
in leaving his readers with the feeling that real life is
being unfolded through the pages of Huck Finn.
Twain drew his material from two sources, personal
experience and episodes related to him by acquaintances.
The most famous of the latter was the story of "The Royal
Nonesuch."
. . . Jim Gillis owned many of the standard classics,
and in the pleasant solitude of the Tuolumne hills San
Clemens read before the fire or listened to Jim invent
wonderful yams about Dick Stoker, extravagant adventures
told with humor and fancy, also with insistence upon
their veracity. And it was Jim standing back to the fire,
who narrated "The Burning Shame" later to enrich our
literature as "The Royal Nonesuch" in Huckleberry Finn.
Some of these yams were masterpieces to commit to
memory, which Sam stored away, remarking later that he
never could get them to sound so well as when Jim told
them. (Long, p. 133)
Aside from yams such as this, Twain says in the Auto
biography that everything in Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn was
suggested by an incident that happened either to him or to
a boyhood acquaintance in Hannibal. These, he combined
and reshaped to fit his purposes. Scholars have observed
that in some of his books, as for instance in Tom Sawyer.
he approached his subject from the viewpoint of the roman
tic. In others, such as The Mysterious Stranger, he was a
cynical realist. It is beyond the scope of this paper
236
to delve into all the critical opinions dealing with
Twain's romanticism and realism, or his optimism and pessi
mism in the course o£ his writing career. It is, however,
worthwile to note E. Hudson Long's observation that Twain
achieved a remarkable balance in Huck Finn. In other works
the reader may find Twain the realist or Twain the romanti
cist, but--
. . . it was the combination of all that went into
his masterpiece The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.
Through eyes of idealism boyhood Hannibal glowed until
imagination bodied forth Tom Sawyer's band in those
halcyon days of youth, preserved never-fading in the
pages of that Idyll. Yet it was the penetrating eye of
the realist that pierced through the placid surface to
picture the ugly and frightening violence present in
certain episodes and especially in the sequel. (P. 257)
Huck Finn exemplifies Twain both as a romantic and a
realist. From the romantic side evolves the "fun" of the
books as manifested in the antics of Tom and Huck. From
the realistic side objective literary portrayals such as
the Shepherdson-Grangerford feud are drawn. Most critics
of our generation adjudge Huck Finn a classic on the basis
of these portrayals. If the conclusions of this study
differ with this standard critical commentary, it will be,
perhaps, because the "fun" and emotion evoked from the
Tom Sawyer-Huck Finn scenes seem to this reader at least,
237
to be of more value than the objective, realistic, literary
portrayals with which Twain punctuated Huck and Jim's
voyage down river.
In discussing the means whereby Twain artistically
avoids the Imitation of real life, his realistic scenes are
the immediate concern. J. 0. Bennett suggests the scope
of Twain's realism when he compares Huck Finn to a literary
epic.
To set a boy and a servant adrift on 1,100 miles of
one of the world's great rivers; to cast them now and
again ashore in half a dozen commonwealths which in any
other land would be premier kingdoms; to have them
encounter gentry, and harlequins, and gamesters, and
boatmen, and wastrels, and drunkards, and feudists, and
good women; to make them face peril with a good heart
and absurdities with a quiet and philosophical mind, and
meet with fortitude hard tests of honor; and finally to
end their voyage with a madcap extravaganza directed by
their friend Tom Sawyer--such is the far flung scenario
of "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.” Irvin Cobb
was right when he called it "the Odyssey of the Missis
sippi." (Best Loved Books, p. 217)
The realistic scenes of the pre-Civil War South
reflect Twain's depth of portrayal. As mentioned before,
the scene where Colonel Sherbum kills the obnoxious and
helpless Boggs is one of those episodes which catches the
applause of the critics. Yet these same critics hesitate
or refuse to pass moral judgment on this "episode in real
life." De Voto speaks of this characteristic of Huck Finn
238
as he writes:
The portraiture which begins among the dregs with
old man Finn ends with the Grangerfords. Between these
strata has come every level of the South. What is the
integrity of an artist? It would seem to consist in an
intelligence which holds itself to the statement of a
perceived truth. . . . These scenes are warm with an
originality and a gusto that exist nowhere else in Ameri-
can fiction, and yet they are the most notable for Mark
Twain's detachment. There is no coloration, no resent
ment, no comment of any kind. The thing itself is
rendered. If repudiation is complete, it exists im
plicitly in the thing. (Mark Twain's America, p. 317)
John Erskine notes with approval this same objectivity.
He observes that Twain is able to effect restraint and
objectivity because he presents his scenes from the point
of view of Huck, a boy with a frank, honest view but har
dened by rigors and poverty to the point where he is able
to accept without a murmur the shocks and insults of ex
perience in the outside world. After Huck witnesses the
senseless massacre of Buck and the rest of the Grangerford
clan, he merely tells the reader that the experience made
him sick and he seeks to think of it no more. Erskine says
of Twain's technique here,
The restraint is art, but it seems the work of nature,
because Huck wished, as he says, to hurry over the
details--he tries not to remember them for fear they may
spoil his sleep. ^
12
John Erskine, "Huckleberry Finn," The Delight of
Great Books (Indianapolis, 1928), p. 273.
239
Twain’s portrayal of real life includes not only depth
in objective detail, but psychological depth as well. The
crisis of the book revolves around Huck's action and atti
tude toward his companion, Jim. While Huck's love for the
colored man won in the long run, this was achieved only
after he had struggled with his conscience— a conscience
conditioned by a white society which taught its young that
treating the black man as other than chattel was sinful.
Huck's conscience was not fabricated from Twain's imagina
tion.
For Huck's conscience, which plagued him about his
duty to Jim's owner, rather than the slave and his family,
was actually the conscience of the region. Yet Hannibal
was not geographically of the Old South; it differed
despite its customs and its stock. (Long, p. 94)
Twain was careful to give scope, realism, and psycho
logical depth to his portrayal of the pre-Civil War South.
Bnphasis on these aspects of the literary scene forced him
to place others in the background. One sure evidence that
Twain was controlling his material rather than "imitating
real life" is his distortion of less Important aspects of
his work in order to emphasize the major factors and still
leave the readers with a feeling of reality. These distor
tions include his handling of dialect and his vagueness
240
and variation in alluding to the mental ages of Tom and
Huck through the course of the novels.
In summarizing several articles dealing with Twain's
use of dialect, E. Hudson Long states,
If there are less dialect variations in Huckleberry
Finn, for instance, than Mark imagined, and those ren
dered into print more haphazardly than painstakingly, the
very lack of a studied conformity, as Katherine Buxbaum
observes, makes for vigor, vividness, and imagination,
for Twain's dialect is natural, real, with a "wealth of
clear-cut, pointed phrases." (Long, p. 307)
Dixon Wecter has observed that Twain is inconsistent
as to the ages of the children he is dealing with. Some
times Huck's comprehension is that of a naive, ten-year-old
child, and at other times he responds like a reflective
adult. This latter tendency is especially true as he
describes the beauty of nature while he drifts downstream
on the raft with Jim.
The ages of Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn are vague and
inconsistent. . . . In their forest outlawry, their mis
chief in the schoolroom, their sham battle, the cure of
warts, and the digging for treasure they seem to be
about eight or nine. But the Tom who falls in love with
Becky and testifies in court, and the boys who camp on
Jackson's Island and wrestle with problems of conscience,
are clearly twelve or thirteen if not older.^
13
Dixon Wecter, Sam Clemens of Hannibal (Cambridge,
1952), p. 137.
241
Mr. Wecter notes other inconsistencies in the ages and
actions of Tom and Huck. The boys seem to live in one
long, lazy summer rather than acclimating their activities
to the change of seasons. In sections of Huck Finn, Huck
seems older and more serious than Tom, yet Huck regresses
to childhood in the last scenes of the book.
This distortion of detail is only evident under close
scrutiny. Its existence simply helps to show that Twain
was not photographing reality, but was carefully presenting
his panorama of the pre-Civil War South with studied scope
and depth both in terms of detail and psychology--a com
bination which effects the illusion of life. His success
has led George P. Elliott to say,
How maddening to a formalist critic to say, "Huckle
berry Finn is in nearly all respects inferior to The
Bostonians as an artifice, yet in style, event, and
character it is vitally superior; therefore it is the
greater book." For how can one define, account for,
analyse vitality? Here is an alive world; it delights
me to learn about it. These, I think, are the funda
mental assertions to be made about a great novel;
criticism comes rationalizing after. ^
George P. Elliott, "Wonder for Huckleberry Finn,"
Twelve Original Essays on Great American Novels, ed.
Charles Shapiro (Detroit, 1958), p. 73.
242
Use of sensational and striking effects. A reader of
today is not likely to feel that Twain used sensational or
shocking material in Huck Finn to counterfeit the emotional
response of genuine art. This opinion is in direct con
trast to that of many of his first readers. Arthur Vogel-
back' s article, "The Publication and Reception of Huckle
berry Finn in America," indicates that the earliest
critical responses to the novel could best be summarized
by the single sentence: "Mr. Twain has no sense of pro
priety."^
Perhaps it was a sense of propriety that Twain lacked.
But it was this lack that made Huck Finn a unique novel.
Two things--Huck's basic honesty unencumbered by social
pressures and prejudices, and Twain's incorporation of
realistic detail--prevented the overly genteel reader from
recognizing the literary value of the book. First, the
novel illustrates how a boy's innate sense of right and
wrong wins in its struggle with conventional morality.
This would not, of course, endear the work to readers who
from birth were trained to respect and exemplify the
15
American Literature, 11:260-272, November 1939.
243
conventional. Second, the realism with which Twain pre
sents the uneducated and superstitious Huck and Jim places
these two characters on a sub-human level (even though the
way they rise above their environment, their sub-human
training and treatment, is to their credit and indicates
the strongest qualities of human character).
The adverse criticism of Huck Finn as an improper book
assured its financial success, and Twain often mentioned
this in laughing tones. A letter he wrote at the time indi
cates that he may not have been as impervious as he appeared
to the remarks concerning the morality of his novel:
I wrote Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn for adults
exclusively and it always distresses me when I find the
boys and girls have been allowed access to them. The mind
that becomes polluted in youth can never again be washed
clean; I know this by my own experience, and to this day
I cherish an unappeasable bitterness against the unfaith
ful guardians of my young life, who not only permitted,
but compelled me to read an unexpurgated Bible through
before I was 15 years old. None can do that and ever
draw a clean breath again this side of the grave. . . .
Most honestly do I wish I could say a softening word
or two in defense of Huck's character, since you find
fault with it, but really in my opinion it is no better
than God's (in the Ahab chapter and 97 others) and those
of Solomon, David, Satan, and the rest of the sacred
brotherhood.
Asa Don Dickenson, "Huckleberry Finn is Fifty Years
Old--Yes, But is He Respectable?" Wilson Bulletin for
Librarians, November 1935, p. 183.
244
This letter vividly illustrates two things. First, Twain
was irritated by those who condemned his book as immoral.
Second, he was certainly very capable of using striking and
sensational material to shock his readers. This letter,
however, was a personal one, intended only for Mr. Dicken
son, the librarian of Brooklyn College. It was made public
in 1935, long after Twain's death.
Although Twain's personality was obviously not condi
tioned by Christian teachings to the extent that Tolstoy's
was, it is remarkable how careful he was in dealing with
the sensational, particularly sex. The absence of sex in
Twain's novels is, according to Gladys Bellamy, worthy of
note.
. . . It is both odd and significant that he practi
cally excluded such material from his fiction otherwise
so full of the life of his times. There was a psycho
logical block, apparently, which held him from the use
of this material for literature. (Pp. 31-32)
While Twain, who wrote Huck Finn at the time when his
children were growing up around him, found it easy to
restrain himself from incorporating sex into his book, he
found the selection of proper language more difficult. The
owner of a frontier vocabulary which caused him extreme
embarrassment in front of his wife on one occasion, he
realized his "rough" drafts needed editing.
245
It was good discipline for Mark. He was not gross,
but delicacy was not his fetish, and he dearly loved the
thunder-roll of Mississippi River profanity. It was
Mr. Howells who ordered all profanity out of the books
and it was Mrs. Clemens who put it out. The verities
do not suffer as a consequence.^
The way in which Twain's wife, Livy, edited Huck Finn
has been immortalized in the diary of his daughter, Susy.
While Livy undoubtedly saw to it by herself that no vul
garity appeared in the work, she tested Mark's humor on
the two girls whenever she felt it might be too blatant.
According to Susy, any humor that the young girls liked
too well was stricken from the novel as Mrs. Clemens wisely
saw that it was not likely to appeal to more adult minds.
The implication is, of course, that the more sensa
tional, or slapstick, humor was not entirely in good taste.
Twain's humorous sections in the novel reflect a unique
personality. Perhaps he achieves some of his effect by use
of sensational material. The episode where Huck puts a
dead rattlesnake in Jim's bed, causing the colored man to
be bitten by its mate immediately comes to mind (Huck Finn,
pp. 73-74). Huck's attempt at humor has crowded out
17
James O'Donnell Bennett, "How 'Huckleberry Finn' was
Written," Much Loved Books: Best Sellers of the Ages (New
York, 1927), p. 219.
246
discretion. A remark in the Autobiographv indicates that
Twain himself considered practical jokes as thoughtless and
inhumane. Referring to a boyhood friend, he reflects,
I played many practical jokes upon him but they were
all cruel and all barren of wit. Any brainless swindler
could have invented them. When a person of mature age
perpetrates a practical joke it is fair evidence, I
think, that he is weak in the head and hasn't enough
heart to signify. (P. 50)
The concluding section of the novel describing the
circuitous and romantic plans for releasing Jim from the
chicken coop is composed of a series of practical jokes.
If one considers the events from the point of view of the
anguish they would really cause Jim or Aunt Sally, he would
see that they are inhumane. To this extent Twain's writing
warrants Tolstoy's admonition not to substitute sensational
or striking events for genuine art.
The novel's conclusion has been severely criticized,
perhaps for this very reason. George P. Elliott noted that
Twain liked the ending of Huck Finn better than any other
part of the book. To Elliott this is just one reflection
of what he considered Mark Twain's poor literary taste.
This gross defect of taste is manifest in everything
of importance he wrote. As a comic entertainer he
yielded to each comic impulse as it arose, not only to
the damage of the total unity of the work but also,
frequently, to the distress of the reader; for many of
247
these ideas were just gags, the sort of thing he had
become famous for in his newspaper articles. (P. 78)
Gladys Bellamy has noted that the novelfs conclusion lags.
She observes that Twain has recourse to the world of make-
believe and condemns him for it (p. 347).
Those critics who laud Twain's realism must neces
sarily object to these comical flights of fancy. If they
try to view the episodes objectively, they must recognize
the cruelty of the practical jokes on their passive re
cipients Nigger Jim and Tom's aunt and uncle. As the blunt
objects of the practical jokes, these characters shrink in
stature to straw figures. If, on the other hand, the
realistic critic accepts these stories for what they are--
mere gags, he must feel (as would Tolstoy) that the sensa
tional and the specious have been substituted for the
genuine.
Several critics have tried to explain why Twain wrote
the ending to Huck Finn as he did. Lionel Trilling has
made one of the more perceptive observations about this
rambling conclusion.
It is a rather mechanical development of an idea,
and yet some device is needed to permit Huck to return
to his anonymity, to give up his role as hero, to fall
into the background which he prefers, for he is modest
248
in all things and could not well endure the attention
and glamour which attend a hero at a book's end.*®
Trilling is right in saying that Huck fits the hero's
role imperfectly. But does Twain solve this problem by
relegating him to a minor role in an adventure part fanci
ful and part slapstick humor? There is really little
evidence that Twain deliberated on the structural consider
ations mentioned by Trilling. On the other hand, Twain
himself considered this conclusion the best part of the
book. Certainly it shows the mark of his individuality--
his humor. The quality of this humor which captivates its
readers is its infectiousness. This to Tolstoy was the
basic ingredient of all art--so, too, with Twain. It is
suggested that Twain was not the conscious technician of
realism that Trilling and others have credited him with
being. Rather when he lapsed into parodies of romantic
boyhood adventures, his object was to achieve infectious
humor. Unconsciously he relegated to the background such
"realistic" details as the mental, emotional, and physical
age of his boy characters. His concern was not with
^Lionel Trilling, "Huckleberry Finn," Art of the
Essay, ed. Leslie Fiedler (New York, 1958), p. 611.
249
achieving realism. All his technical competence in this
section was devoted to achieving humor. In the opinion of
this reviewer Twain was successful and his sacrifice of
realistic detail was worthwhile.
Use of interesting1 ' material to dilute art. Mark
Twain has often been criticized for the episodic nature of
his novels. He was more the storyteller than the novelist.
To a reader who searches for a central theme or an emo
tional high point in a well-constructed work of art, Huck
Finn is highly unsatisfactory. To Twain the individual
episodes seemed more important than the over-all effect of
the book. Similarly, the reader must devote his attention
to the immediate episode, not the over-all structure of the
novel, if he is to glean the maximum satisfaction from Huck
Finn.
Does this mean that Twain has violated Tolstoy's
admonition not to dilute art with extraneous matter? A
moment of reflection is all that is necessary to bring to
mind the fact that Tolstoy's definition of art applies more
readily to the individual episodes in the book than to the
over-all work. The pluralization of the word "adventures"
in the title would indicate that the author himself thought
250
more in terms of the episodes than in terms of the over
view of the novel.
In this series of adventure, each story contributes
to the artistic worth of Huck Finn. Are the individual
episodes diluted with material substituted for genuine art?
It is suggested that they are not, although several recent
critics have tried to prove that Twain used a rather
elaborate complex of symbols in the novel. Symbolism,
according to Tolstoy, obscures the meaning and emotional
effect of true art. Indeed, if the symbols found in Huck
Finn by modern critics were deliberately placed there by
the author, the effect has been confusion and obscurity
rather than clarity.
The first rather subtle interpretation of Huck Finn
to be considered is Frank Baldenza's article, "The Struc
ture of Huckleberry Finn." Referring to subject matter
treated in E. M. Forster's Aspects of the Novel. Baldenza
observes that Twain, in the same manner as did Marcel
Proust years later, developed his book with the use of
rhythmic patterns. In Twain's case the rhythm is uncon
scious and characterized by impulse and lack of planning.
It constitutes a pattern of repetition plus variation.
251
As examples Baldenza points to the episode of the rattle
snake skin that Huck uses to frighten Jim while the two
are on the raft. Another rattlesnake skin is introduced to
Jim's chicken-coop jail when Tom and Huck explore the pos
sibilities of a romantic flight for freedom for the colored
man--repetition plus variation. In another instance the
would-be murderers, Bill and Pack, are trapped on the
stranded steamboat, Walter Scott. When Huck and Jim make
off with the only small boat, the two outlaws are trapped
and doomed. Their fate is sealed because they were not
content to let well enough alone (Huck Finn, pp. 94-105).
The King and the Duke meet disaster in the same way--not
content with substantial, ill-gotten gain, they stay on,
greedy for more, until the wrathful townsfolk unmask and
tar and feather them. The rhythmic pattern of repetition
with variation of which Baldenza speaks is unmistakably a
i q
part of Huck Finn.
Edward Wasiolek interprets Huck Finn as a novel con
trasting a real world with a world of make-believe.
Wasiolek points out that Huck and Jim enjoy a sensuous,
19
American Literature. 27:347-355, November 1955.
252
fluid, unpredictable, free and challenging existence on the
river. Here life seems relaxed and genuine. But when Huck
touches shore, he encounters people who play make-believe
roles--roles forced upon them by their social mores. These
people, as for instance the Grangerfords and the Shepherd-
sons, are portrayed as rigid, predictable, make-believe
characters. After each episode Huck returns to the river,
returning to reality.
The adventures on shore are qualitatively all of
one order: they are not life but the imitation of life.
The contrasts of good and bad, respectable and un
respectable, do not hold because they are concepts that
do not correspond to the basic images, river and shore,
which subtend the structure of the novel. The shore
alone comprehends the respectable and the unrespectable,
the kind and the cruel, the good and the bad, or it com
prehends what we usually mean by these terms. . . . It
is, in short, the contrast of life and make-believe.™
Wasiolek points out that the perspectives of both Tom
and Huck accentuate this contrast. Tom’s world is one of
make-believe circumscribed by a myriad of artificial
rules. Huck’s world is realistic, direct, and ranch more
genuine. Mark Twain is the pessimist and astute critic as
he points to the make-believe world of figures such as
20
’ ’ The Structure of Make-Believe, Huckleberry Finn."
University of Kansas Review. 24:98-99, December 1957.
253
the Grangerfords. Yet he is optimistic, too, as he shows
through Huck what life could be if it were faced honestly.
Kenneth S. Lynn advances an interpretation of Huck
Finn which includes elements of the rhythmic pattern men
tioned by Baldenza and the contrast illustrated by Wasiolek.
Lynn summarizes the third chapter of Twain's Life on the
Mississippi and says that this chapter was originally in
tended to be a pari: of Huck Finn. The "lost" chapter deals
with a mock death and rebirth in which Huck finds it con
venient to pretend he is the reincarnation of a murdered
boy. Lynn contends that the motif of death and rebirth
runs through all of Huck's adventures. He is bom anew
into each succeeding adventure. In each case it is a death
or a loss of identity which terminates the adventure.
A slightly less significant motif runs through each
adventure. In each case, Lynn contends, Huck is searching
for two things--a father and freedom. These two are
mutually incompatible. In fact it is when Jim gains his
freedom that Huck knows the two must part. Once Jim is
free, considerations of race make it impossible for the two
21
to continue their deep friendship.
^Kenneth Lynn, "Huck and Jim," The Yale Review,
47:421-433, Spring 1958.
254
James M. Cox in an article, "Remarks on the Sad
Initiation of Huckleberry Finn," develops in more detail
the motif of death and rebirth. In referring to the way
Huck feigned his own murder as he ran away from Pap, Cox
says,
The fake murder is probably the most vital and crucial
incident of the entire novel. Having killed himself,
Huck is "dead" throughout the entire journey down the
river. He is indeed the man without identity who is re
born at almost every river bend, not because he desires
a new role, but because he must re-create himself to
elude the forces which close in on him from every side.
The rebirth theme which began with Pap's reform becomes
the driving ideas behind the entire action. . . .
These two images, rebirth and death, provide a frame
for all succeeding episodes of the arduous initiation.
As Huck and Jim move down the river, an oncoming steam
boat crashes into their raft, forcing the two outcasts
to swim for their lives. From this baptism Huck emerges
to enter the new life at the Grangerfords under the name
of George Jackson. His final act in that life is to
cover the dead face of Buck.22
The repetition of the images of death and rebirth sug
gests symbolism with religious overtones as exemplified,
for instance, by Thomas Mann's Joseph and his Brothers.
This complexity is hardly harmonious with Twain’s nature or
his purpose. Rather, the complexity and erudition of the
22
James M. Cox, "Remarks on the Sad Initiation of
Huckleberry Finn," Interpretations of American Literature.
ed. Charles Feidelson (New York, 1959), pp. 234-235.
255
articles written by Lynn and Cox reflect a trend in current
criticism, not the content of Huck Finn. The simplicity
and directness of the novel contradicts the complex inter
pretations of these critics. Tolstoy condemned literary
critics for providing a disservice to genuine art in just
this way. Mark Twain was much closer to the spirit of the
Russian master than to these critics when he shaped his
boyhood reminiscences into genuine art.
The Qualities of Genuine Art
On the positive side of his analysis of art, Tolstoy
enumerated three characteristics of genuine art--individu
ality, clarity, and sincerity. Each of these is reflected
in some degree in Mark Twain's Huck Finn.
Individuality. When Tolstoy spoke of individuality in
a work of art, he was concerned with the manner and extent
to which the artist's emotional experience was individual
ized. Twain, though he used personal experiences as a
basis for the separate episodes in Huck Finn, did not try
to individualize emotion. On the contrary he exercised
careful artistic control of his material to evoke a general
ized feeling— that of laughter in response to a particular
256
humorous situation. In this sense then, and perhaps in
this sense alone, Twain's work does not correspond with
Tolstoy's concept of art.
While it is true that Twain did not individualize his
personal feelings in art form, it would be unfair to say
that his work does not reflect individuality. The unique
ness of his approach and his perspective are very apparent
in Huck Finn. As far as characters are concerned, Huck,
the central figure in his novel, is one of the most dis
tinct creations in all of literature.
Literary critics seem in unison in attributing two
qualities of individuality to Twain's work. Perhaps Gladys
Bellamy has expressed these characteristics best when she
says that Twain as an author shows sensibility but lacks
serenity. By sensibility in this case Miss Bellamy means
that Twain exhibits an awareness of the various facets of
human nature. This provides him with a wealth of material
for his novel. By his lack of serenity she means he lacks
the ability to control and shape this material (Bellamy,
p. 190).
In another place Miss Bellamy suggests a comparison
which reflects the individuality of Twain's method. She
257
contrasts the work of three great American local color
writers. Walt Whitman, she says, mirrored the character
istics of the region he wrote about through his heroes, and
Bret Harte devoted his studies to the prostitute and the
outlaw, but Mark Twain was really the first who chose as
his heroes individuals drawn from the conxnon mass.
Twain's characters, not really heroes, but common
people examined so closely that they become individuals,
reflect part of his uniqueness as a creative writer. In
fact to the extent that a character like Huckleberry Finn
is unique, the novel reflects the author's individuality.
And Huck is a very unique young boy. Leslie Fiedler has
observed,
. . . In the book called by his name, Huckleberry
Finn exists, dictates his own style, his own moral judg
ments, his own meanings, which neither Twain nor the
reader has to understand to experience.
The reader accepts the fact that Huck's indoctrination
to the rigors of life has been somewhat different from that
of the normal boy. His outlook on life may be excused if
it deviates from normality. Fiedler goes on to say,
23
Leslie A. Fiedler, "Huckleberry Finn: Faust in the
Eden of Childhood," Love and Death in the American Novel
(New York, 1960), p. 574.
258
. . . Huckleberry Finn is, then, essentially a book
about a marginal American type, who only wants to stay
alive; but who does not find this very easy to do, being
assailed on the one side by forces of violence, which
begrudge him the little he asks, and on the other, by
forces of benevolence, which insist that he ask for more.
Against the modesty and singleness of his purpose every
thing else is measured and weighed: religion, the social
order, other men. Huck exists on a sub'moral level; for
he cannot afford, in his minimal economy, the luxury of
living by the moral codes of the Widow Douglases of this
small-town world. Such codes assume a standard of
security, if not actual prosperity, to which he does not
even aspire. . . . (P. 575)
Huck is not the boy with the slow mind that followed
Tom around in The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. Though Twain
originally meant Huck's adventures as a sequel to Tom's, a
great deal had happened in the seven-year interval between
the publication of the two novels. Huck Finn developed
into a more complex work of art than a mere sequel.
The lack of propriety and solidity in Huck's upbring
ing prepares the reader to expect the boy to express views
divergent to run-of-the-mill reactions. Thus, when Huck
relates the story of his adventures with the King and the
Duke, the reader is willing to be more credulous than he
would be if Twain had used an omniscient approach in
presenting the material. Huck's individuality serves a
practical purpose from the standpoint of the storyteller's
technique.
259
Twain tells the story as seen through Huck's eyes.
The quality of the boy’s perception and the frank, fresh
interpretation he puts on incidents betrays the alacrity of
his mind. In his own unlettered way, for instance, he
expresses the same idea about church music that Tolstoy
considered the basic quality of all genuine art--infec-
tiousness of emotion. Huck says,
. . . And the minute the words were out of his mouth
somebody over in the crowd struck up the doxologer, and
everybody joined in it with all their might, and it just
warmed you up and made you feel as good as church letting
out. Music is a good thing; and after all that soul-
butter and hogwash I never see freshen up things so, and
sound so honest and bully.^
Lion Trilling has observed paradoxical qualities in
the character of Huck that contribute to his uniqueness.
Not the least remarkable thing about Huck's feeling
for people is that his tenderness goes along with the
assumption that his fellow men are likely to be dangerous
and wicked. He travels incognito, never telling the
truth about himself and never twice telling the same lie,
for he trusted no one and the lie comforts him even when
it is not necessary. . . . Yet his profound and bitter
knowledge of human depravity never prevents him from
being a friend of man. (Art of the Essay, p. 607)
24
Credit for the selection of this quotation from
Chapter XXV of Huck Finn should be given to James O'Donnell
Bennett. He chose it as one of several to give the
’’flavor’ 1 of Twain's masterpiece in his Much Loved Books
(London, 1927), p. 211.
260
It would be understandable if Huck were hostile to
strangers, considering the hard knocks he had received.
In view of his upbringing, his basic tenderness for his
fellow human beings seems the unrealistic quality in his
makeup. Perhaps Twain is inconsistent in his character
portrayal here. It is to the novelist’s credit, though,
that only as astute a critic as Trilling has been able to
discern this strange disparity between his good nature and
poor treatment. To the overwhelming majority of readers
Huck Finn remains one of the most distinct characters in
American fiction.
Clarity. Clarity was a prime consideration of genuine
art according to Tolstoy. He felt that the labor of the
artist was primarily to shape his materials so that the
emotions he sought to convey through the art form would be
clear to the spectator or reader.
Mark Twain's method of working on his novels indicates
that he, too, considered clarity, perhaps not in terms of
feeling, but in terras of comprehensibility, a prime respon
sibility.
He began the composition of Tom Sawyer with certain
of his boyish recollections in mind, writing on and on
until he utilized them all, whereupon he put his
261
manuscript aside and ceased to think about it, except
in so far as he might recall from time to time, and more
or less unconsciously, other recollections of those
early days. Sooner or later he would return to his work
to make use of memories he had recaptured in the inter
val. After he had harvested this second crop, he again
put his work away, certain that in time he would be able
to call back other scenes and other situations. When at
last he became convinced that he had made his profit out
of every possible reminiscence, he went over what he had
written with great care, adjusting the several instal
ments one to the other, sometimes writing into the
earlier chapter the necessary preparations for adven
tures in later chapters unforeseen when he was engaged
in the beginnings of the book. Thus he was enabled to
bestow on the completed story a more obvious coherence
than his haphazard procedure would otherwise have
attained.25
This description of Twain’s method of working on Tom Sawyer
and Huck Finn indicates a simplicity of subject matter and
an awareness of his responsibility for clarity in presenta
tion. The subject matter was primarily derived from child
hood reminiscences. Yet Twain found it necessary to re
arrange and reshape his material. His presentation of the
story through the eyes of Huck, a boy incapable of being
shocked by impropriety and equally incapable of insensi
bility, offers another indication of the author's conscious
use of technique in the interests of clarity.
25
Brander Matthews, "Memories of Mark Twain," The
Tocsin Revolt and Other Essays (New York, 1922), pp. 265-
266.
262
In analysing the burlesque patterns used by Twain,
Franklin Rogers concludes that Huckleberry Finn is the
culmination of a long period during which Twain refined the
burlesque techniques of frontier journalism. Rogers* book
illustrates the basic techniques Twain used and shows how
they are to be found in modified form in Huck Finn. The
very fact that the novel required seven years to complete
indicates that Twain found the task of composition complex
and laborious. In the Autobiography Twain stated, "There
is only one right form for a story, and if you fail to find
that form, the story will not tell itself" (Rogers,
pp. 159-160 and Autobiography, pp. 264-265).
Sincerity. Twain's own comments on his method of
writing indicate that while he labored to effect clarity,
he shied away from artificial contrivances and devoted his
energy to developing his material in accordance with its
inherent aesthetic qualities. This is a form of artistic
sincerity.
. . . As long as a book would write itself I was a
faithful and interested amanuensis and my Industry did
not flag, but the minute that the book tried to shift to
my head the labor of contriving its situations, inventing
its adventures and conducting its conversations, I put
it away and dropped it out of my mind. Then I examined
263
my unfinished properties to see if among them there might
not be one whose interest in itself had revived through
a couple of years' restful idleness and was ready to take
me on again as amanuensis.
It was by accident that I found out that a book is
pretty sure to get tired about the middle and refuse
to go on with its work until its powers and its interest
should have been refreshed by a rest and its depleted
stock of raw materials reenforced by lapse of time.
(Autobiography, pp. 264-265)
While Twain wrote much of his Autobiography in a spoofing
tone, his comments on how his books "wrote themselves"
appear to be more factual than humorous in light of the
chronological record of his publications as well as the
quality of his work.
Twain's sincere efforts to conform to the artistic
requirements of his subject are coupled with a genuine
effort to reproduce human character and personality with
fidelity.
In Huckleberry Finn I have drawn Tom Blankenship
exactly as he was. He was ignorant, unwashed, insuf
ficiently fed; but he had as good a heart as ever any
boy had. His liberties were totally unrestricted. He
was the only really independent person--boy or man--in
the community, and by consequence he was tranquilly and
continuously happy and was envied by all the rest of
us. We liked him; we enjoyed his society. And as his
society was forbidden us by our parents the prohibition
trebled and quadrupled its value, and therefore we
sought and got more of his society than of any other
boy's. I heard, four years ago, that he was justice of
the peace in a remote village in Montana and was a good
citizen and greatly respected. (Autobiography. p. 68)
264
This description of Tom Blankenship is vividly repro
duced in the character of Huck. While it has been pointed
out that Twain's portrayal of Huck is inconsistent-- espe
cially in regard to his maturity and his intellectual
acuity--it cannot be denied that Huck's character is
"rounded out" enough to evoke in most readers the feeling
that they are following the adventures and experiences of
a unique, but warm and real individual.
James M. Cox, in his "Remarks on the Sad Initiation of
Huckleberry Finn," considers the character of Jim to be as
genuine as that of Huck.
. . . Huck and Jim are the only real human beings in
the novel--they are human because they can still feel
and because they possess a heightened sensitivity to the
promises and terrors of life. The characters whom they
encounter with the exception of the young and innocent,
have an angularity and rigidity which mark them as
grotesque. The blind spots of the eminently respectable
become proving grounds for the avaricious; the pretentious
righteousness of one group merely encourages the brutal
sensationalism of another. Only Huck and Jim possess
wholeness of spirit among the horde of fragmentary per
sonalities which parade through the novel. The society
which hotly pursues Huck and Jim knows that they possess
the real secrets--that is why it so desperately wants to
"own" them. (P. 240)
Cox compares two somewhat parallel episodes to illus
trate the genuine quality of Jim's character as opposed to
that, for instance, of the King and the Duke.
265
One day while the two are drifting down stream, Jim
tells Huck a plaintive tale of how he had once struck his
daughter for apparently willful disobedience. After this
act he discovered that the poor girl failed to obey him not
because she ignored his commands, but because she was stone
deaf. The colored man is reduced to tears as he confesses
this experience to Huck (Huck Finn, pp. 215”216).
Later in the novel the Duke poses as a deaf mute to
defraud the Wilkes' daughters (pp. 271-289). Here Twain
uses the idea of the deaf mute a second time. Cox indi
cates that Twain's use of the same device contrasts the
sincerity and depth of character of Huck and Jim on one
hand and the superficiality of the King and the Duke on the
other.
While we must agree that Jim and Huck possess a depth
of character not apparent in their fellow voyagers, it
cannot be denied that Twain's touch as a craftsman is
enough to make the King and the Duke seem credible. Their
behavior is consistent to their distinct if shallow images.
John Erskine catches them as they enjoy their role-playing.
. . . They know they are not fooling each other, they
pretend to be deceiving the negro and the boy, and yet
we half think they would have kept up the nonsense even
266
if they had been alone, so strong in them was the
instinct for imposture. (Delight of Great Books.
p. 269)
The characters of the King and the Duke are genuine
insofar as they were natural "hams" and instinctive frauds.
Their characters are portrayed more fully and convincingly
than those, for instance, of the Grangerford family. Yet
they are superficial compared to the portrayals of Jim and
Huck. It would appear that Twain had a flair for charac
terization. To the extent that he was deeply concerned
with one of his characters, he was able to effect his por
trayal in depth.
A convincing character may simply be the accomplish
ment of skillful craftsman rather than a sincere artist.
It is worthwhile, then, to see that on occasion Twain's
literary creativity was a natural expression of self rather
than the cold mechanical execution of a paid craftsman.
Gladys Bellamy offers evidence that Twain's famous humor
was his natural vent for expression of inner emotions.
Perhaps the strongest indication that he was a humor
ist by nature lies in the form of release his emotions
followed in times of stress [after the deaths of his
father-in-law and a visiting friend and the grave illness
of his wife]. Almost distracted with worry about his
wife Mark Twain experienced during this period sudden
changes from deep melancholy to what he described in the
Eruption volume as "tempests and cyclones of humor."
267
In one of these "spasms of humorous possession" he sat
down and wrote the burlesque sketch entitled "The Map of
Paris." When fear and grief had keyed his feelings to
the highest pitch, relief came in the form of a burst of
wild humor that surged up from the depths of his despair.
(Bellamy, p. 68)
Miss Bellamy has demonstrated that humor was Twain's most
natural form of expression. Any analysis of Huck Finn must
be conducted with an awareness that its author was in
stinctively a humorist.
A Summary of Counterfeit and Genuine Art
in Huckleberry Finn
This examination of Huck Finn in the light of the
qualities of genuine art versus counterfeit art has been
rewarding. From almost every approach the novel measures
up to Tolstoy's standards for genuine art. At the same
time the book, examined by Tolstoy’s standards, has yielded
rich rewards in terms of insight into its intrinsic values.
While Huck Finn reflects fewer traces of literary
tradition and influences in its makeup than do most great
novels, it is apparent that its style tends to be condi
tioned by frontier journalism. The "Mr. Twain-Mr. Brown"
dialogue technique used so successfully in "Letters from
the Sandwich Islands" has been refined to literary perfec
tion in many of the scenes between Huck and Jim or Tom
268
and Huck. Primarily, Twain was unconscious of critical
canons. His own individual taste and artistic sense set
the standards for the novel, and his own experience, not
the subject matter prevalent in contemporary literature,
constituted his material for the novels.
This study has shown that Twain did not seek merely
to imitate real life but controlled his material with con
fidence and skill. A closer scrutiny of his methods of
artistic control has been valuable. It has brought to
light certain distortions or inconsistencies, such as the
changing of the apparent chronological and mental ages of
Huck and Tom. It has shown that Huck’s amazing perception
and his unique attitude toward conventional morality are
used cleverly as artistic devices for good storytelling and
biting satire. It has also brought out the problem of
romantic elements contrasted with the realistic. Finally,
the scope in breadth and depth of Twain's picture of the
pre-Civil War South is made apparent.
A modem reader is somewhat surprised to find that
upon its initial publication Huck Finn was condemned by
many as an imnoral book. Huck's unconventional moral
viewpoint and Twain's inclusion of realistic detail--
269
two elements which recommend the book today--seem the basis
for this condemnation. Actually, the novel reflects an
over-fastidiousness in its complete avoidance of the ele
ment of sex. Similarly, Twain's rich and violent Missis
sippi River profanity has been completely expurgated by
the thorough censoring of his wife. The problem as to
whether the novel is diluted by the inclusion of sensa
tional material leads to an examination of Twain's humor.
Is it incongruous with the serious purpose of the book?
Certainly, the jesting and pranks executed at the expense
of the principal characters rob them of a certain amount of
dignity. If, however, Huck Finn is art according to
Tolstoy's definition--the transmission to others of emo
tions one has experienced--then these humorous sections
with their quality of warm infectiousness constitute the
real art in the novel. There is evidence that Twain him
self thought that this was so.
The last of the methods of counterfeit art is the use
of extraneous material to dilute genuine art. Approaching
Huck Finn from this viewpoint, one readily sees that Twain
gave emphasis to the individual episode rather than to the
over-all structure of the book. Certain of these episodes
270
have furnished material to which a few recent critics have
attributed symbolic overtones. An examination of these
"symbolic" scenes from a common sense perspective, however,
indicates that these critics needed a little of Twain's
capacity to laugh at life rather than to try to analyse it
to the extent that its vitality and true significance are
lost.
On the more positive side, Tolstoy characterized
genuine art with the qualities of individuality, clarity,
and sincerity. An evaluation of these qualities provides
a rewarding means to analyse aspects of Twain's Huck Finn.
Individuality is apparent both in the author and in
the novel. Mark Twain’s own easy-going personality and his
innate ability to view everything from a humorous perspec
tive are conspicuous in his book. His literary style has
been characterized by its sensibility and lack of serenity--
an abundance of feeling and perception, but a lack of con
trol of material. Twain’s subject matter is also unique
for his time. He was the first American novelist to por
tray individuals drawn from the conmon mass as his heroes.
Mark Twain's own individual nature has left its im
print on Huck Finn. It is, however, the individuality of
271
the character of his principal creation that contributes
most to the book’s enduring quality. Huck, impecunious by
choice and untutored in both the responsibilities and
prejudices of the middle class, existed on what one critic
has called a sub-moral level. This is not to say that
young Huck was bad in the eyes of God or of anyone capable
of judging him with detachment, but by commonly accepted
standards of morality he was certainly deviant. Yet his
perception of human nature and his sensitivity to his sur
roundings characterize him as a person of superior quality.
Lionel Trilling touched upon these qualities when he ob
served that while Huck was very much aware of many of the
worst aspects of human nature, he always maintained a warm
place in his heart for his fellow man.
Clarity is a definite quality in Twain’s novel. His
struggles with composition reflect a sense of responsi
bility for presenting his material clearly. While as an
artist he contended that the story would tell itself, he
has also stated that there is only one right way to tell
a story.
The question of Twain's sincerity as an artist opens
avenues to several fruitful insights. He was sincere as
Ill
an artist in that he developed his material in its inherent
form. That is, in his own words, the book "wrote itself."
He was sincere in that he made a genuine effort to repro
duce human character and personality although he used
poetic license in re-telling his actual boyhood experi
ences. His characters were true to their own natures. As
a social critic he contrasted the genuine with the arti
ficial at the expense of the latter. His remarkable humor
was not a spurious attempt to be witty, but was, rather,
a natural means whereby he released his own emotions. This
is evidenced by records of his life which show that during
times of extreme sorrow he was possessed with spasms of
creative humor.
Individuality, clarity, and sincerity--all three--are
keynotes of Twain’s genius.
Art for All Men
It was Tolstoy’s conviction that genuine art was for
all men. The subject matter of genuine art was to him that
which concerned all men most directly. Art should convey
those basic emotions which are conmon experiences to man
kind in general. Finally, a genuine work of art by its
273
very nature, should appeal to and be directed toward the
bulk of mankind, not any Intellectual or cultural elite.
Huck Finn was extremely popular with the common
reader. As Bernard De Voto has observed,
It is a safe assertion, even if one impossible of
verification, that more copies of Mark Twain's books are
bought annually than of those by any other American.
That is quite simply, what is wrong with them to some
aspiring minds. "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer" stands
second in the list of sales. The leader is, appro
priately, "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn." (Mark
Twain's America, p. 304)
Twain felt as did Tolstoy that the bizarre, high
adventure, or uncommon experiences were not the essentials
of great art. He confined his novels to episodes suggested
by actual happenings experienced by himself or by his
friends. This line of thought is even more apparent in the
organization of the Autobiography where he didactically
expresses ideas on art very close to those of Tolstoy.
. . . Moreover this autobiography of mine does not
select from my life its showy episodes, but deals merely
in common experiences which go to make up the life of
the average human beings, and the narrative must inter
est the average human being because these episodes are
of a sort which he is familiar with in his own life and
in which he sees his own life reflected and set down in
print. (P. xii)
De Voto makes a penetrating observation about the
novel. While he does not say that the characters and
274
adventures in Twain's book are universal in that they
represent the problems and aspirations of all mankind, he
does insist that they validly portray a wide segment of
America.
"The Adventures of Tom Sawyer" and "The Adventures of
Huckleberry Finn" are born of America— it is their im
mortality. . . . Whatever else this frontier humorist
did, whatever he failed to do, this much he did. He
wrote books that have in them something eternally true
to the core of his nation's life. They are at the
center; all other books whatsoever are farther away.
(P. 321)
There is considerably more evidence that Mark Twain as
both man and author attuned himself to the cannon man and
his concerns. In the Autobiographv he pokes fun at one
member of the Clemens family who tried to prove the authen
ticity of the family’s claim to a right of membership in
the English House of Lords (p. 29).
Mark Twain's identification of self with the common
man was broadened (in an unconmon way) to militant concern
for all persecuted social groups. He was famous for his
defense of the Chinese in his "Chinese Letters" chronicled
in the San Francisco Galaxy. This concern for justice and
equality for all men is reflected extensively through his
work.
275
. . . And his continued criticism of the treatment
accorded by "civilized" society to the oppressed races--
Negroes, Filipinos, Kanakas, and Maoris, as well as
Chinese and Jews— finally comprises one of the largest
connected bodies in his work. Such aspects of his
literary beginnings are significant because they are
related to subjects and ideas emphasized in his later
work. The degree to which his early writing anticipates
his later social and political commentary— in Huckle
berry Finn, for instance— has not been adequately recog
nized by Mark Twain scholarship. (Bellamy, p. 99)
This approach to Twain*s novel through Tolstoy's definition
of genuine art makes unavoidable the observation above that
an essential element of Twain's psychological makeup was
his genuine concern for the welfare of every human being.
He shared this tender concern for humanity with both Zola
and Tolstoy.
TWain's reaction to the city of Rome reflected his
view that ordinary citizens are the heart and substance of
a country. "He was engaged with the masses to such a
degree that he could not approve of an art which achieved
its beauty in the midst of want" (Bellamy, pp. 170-171).
In criticizing other works by Twain, Gladys Bellamy
has observed that a writer must recognize the latent
dignity in mankind. Samuel Clemens does not always do
this, she says. His predilection for cynicism weakens the
literary value of much of his writing. Huck Finn is,
276
however, an exception. In the characters of Huck, Tom, and
Jim, human dignity is self-evident. This concern of the
artist for the dignity and worth of the common man is a
basic ingredient in the greatness of Twain's masterpiece.
Twain’s ability to escape his cynicism and be himself
may be one of the keys to his success with Huck Finn.
James T. Farrell notes the dichotomy between his cynicism
and his tender consideration for the worth of human beings.
Farrell goes on to suggest that perhaps Twain's was the
tender soul and his cynicism was merely the result of
disillusionment.
Mark Twain was both a genuine democrat and a cynic.
As a democrat he defended the Jacobins. Democratic
ideas seemed to be part of his very blood and flesh.
His individualism, and consequently his sense of worth
of human beings, is a direct product of democratic
ideas. And he expressed these magnificently when he
made an unschooled boy and a runaway slave the heroes
of what is truly an American Odyssey. His cynicism is
related to the many disillusioning observations of the
failure of democratic ideas. . . .^6
Twain was less the cynic when he wrote Huck Finn than in
his later years. It might be that his outlook on life is
reflected in Huck's ambivalence. The young boy expected
26
James T. Farrell, "Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn and
Tom Sawyer," The League of Frightened Philistines (New
York, 1945), p. 26.
277
the worst out of the world. He was never secure enough to
tell the truth to strangers. Yet he nurtured compassion
in his heart for even the most villainous of his fellow
men. His efforts to save the murderers, Bill and Pack,
substantiate this (pp. 104-105). Huck, like his creator,
was distrustful of men*s intentions, but open-hearted when
any man needed help.
The novel presents its own evidence of kinship with
)
conxnon experience. Tom and Huck appear real boys with more
moral and physical courage than is possessed by characters
in Twain*s later works, such as The Mysterious Stranger
(see Bellamy, p. 361). The extensive use of dialect and
the unquestioning belief of Huck and Jim in local super
stitions stamp these two as lower than average on any
economic or educational scale. Yet they stand forth as
genuine persons--their statures enhanced by their greatness
of soul.
The subordinate characters in the novel portray
various levels of society in several different poses. The
mob at Brickville that witnessed Boggs being shot down by
Colonel Sherbum is but one of many illustrations.
But in such passages as this, the clearly seen indi
viduals merge into something greater, a social whole,
278
a civilization seen just as clearly. Poleville, where
the King is converted at the camp meeting, Brickville,
and the town below the P1int where a tanner has died are
one with Dawson's Landing and Napoleon--but more concen
trated and thereby more final.
The completeness of the society must be insisted upon.
(De Voto, p. 315)
In writing for the comnon mass, in drawing his charac
ters from the coranon mass, and in dealing with everyday
experiences familiar to the majority of human beings, Huck
Finn conforms to Tolstoy's conception of genuine art.
Twain's novel certainly comes closer to being art for all
men than does Tolstoy's own Anna Karenina.
The Meaning or Purpose of Huck_Finn
Twain prefaced Huck Finn with an admonition that any
one attempting to find a moral in the book would be shot.
As so much of the book is presented in this carefree,
humorous manner, there should be a serious hesitation on
the part of critics and reviewers to seek to glean a theme
or moral from a work so episodic and humorous. Most
critics do, however, find purpose and meaning behind the
boyish adventures. Twain himself has indicated that the
crisis of the book is found in Huck's struggle with his own
conscience for not turning Jim over to the authorities.
279
Perhaps a theme or moral to Huck Finn is to be sought for--
but cautiously.
In the Autobiography. published posthumously, Twain
asserts,
I have always preached. That is the reason that I
have lasted thirty years. If the humor came of its own
accord and uninvited I have allowed it a place in my
sermon, but I was not writing the sermon just for the
sake of the humor. I should have written the sermon
just the same, whether any humor applied for admission
or not. I am saying these vain things in this frank way
because I am a dead person speaking from the grave.
Even I would be too modest to say them in life. (P. 273)
It must be remembered here that Twain was alluding to the
vast body of his writing, not to Huck Finn particularly,
when he made this pronouncement. In all likelihood, how
ever, he felt that he was preaching when he wrote Huck
Finn. Another point of consideration is Twain's meaning of
the word "preaching." Is the book a unified "sermon" with
one underlying theme? Or does he mean by "preaching" that
many of his individual scenes or episodes are satires on
human foibles, beliefs, and institutions? The latter sug
gestion seems more likely.
Another passage from the Autobiographv sheds light
upon his attitude toward moralizing.
It is my conviction that a person's temperament is a
law, an iron law, and has to be obeyed, no matter who
280
disapproves; manifestly, as it seems to me, temperament
is a law of God and is supreme and takes precedence of
all human laws. It is my conviction that each and every
human law that exists has one distinct purpose and
intention and only one: to oppose itself to a law of God
and defeat it, degrade it, deride it and trample upon
it. (P. 306)
This attitude is very close to determinism. People cannot,
it would seem, keep themselves from defying God's laws and
hurting themselves and others. If Twain genuinely felt this
to be true, preaching or moralizing in his writing would be
useless. The fact that many of his books are more cynical
than Huck Finn would indicate that his reforming zeal had
been blunted by a feeling of hopelessness brought on from
continued observation of human foibles and injustices. To
understand Twain effectively, a reader must recognize that
both elements--the spirit of the reformer, and the dis
illusionment of the determinist--were present in his
psychological makeup.
Twain has said that the fundamental issue in Huck Finn
is the struggle between Huck’s own nature and his con
science. His nature leads him to befriend, respect, and
assist Nigger Jim as the colored man flees from his owner.
Huck's conscience tells him that helping a colored man
escape is a crime against his own race and a sin condemning
281
him to Hellfire. Huck's nature wins the battle, and as
Twain has made obvious, it is the boy's heart, not his
conscience, that was right. Twain is criticizing the
society that tried to educate Huck, not the unlettered boy.
Critics have continually deplored the burlesque and
episodic nature of Huck Finn. The long pseudo-comical end
ing has been condemned because it distracts the reader from
the central theme. Leslie Fiedler supports this reviewer's
contention that the humor is both good and worthwhile.
Fiedler also makes a rather penetrating comparison of the
theme of Huck Finn with its highly comical ending.
. . . Besides the book Ls funny; the Duke and the
Dauphin as comical as they are unspeakable; the occa
sional quips riotous; the medley of burlesque and parody
and under-statement the performance of an old pro, a
practical and talented clown. Even the long ending,
taken by itself, is a masterpiece of sustained farce
hard to match in any literature. To deplore the ending
has become one of the cliches of criticism; and it is
true that it is worked out at so great length that it
imperils the structure of the book. . . . In a way, of
course, the horseplay is intended precisely to keep us
from asking such questions, to confuse our sense of
what is illusory, what real. . . .
After all, what can a man, who all his life has known
he can be sold find more absurd than that. To Huck as
well as Jim, all heroism and all suffering are equally
"unreal," equally asinine; and the tom-foolery of "Marse
Tom" seems to them no stranger than the vagaries of
Judge Thatcher, (Love and Death, pp. 590-591)
Leslie Fiedler’s observations here are brilliant. There is
no doubt that they are valid. Yet the implication is that
282
Twain structured his novel to say these things. This is
more doubtful. In the long, burlesque ending to the book,
Jim accepts with confusion but without criticism Tom's
ideas of how he must be rescued from the chicken house in
a glorious and romantic manner. Here Jim is relegated to
the role of a poor dumb beast quietly following the orders
of his masters, two boys playing at children's games. This
is a role incongruous to his previous portrayal on the raft
with Huck. More than likely Twain felt this latter picture
of the slave in harmony with the role played by many men
whom he had observed spending their lives in slavery.
Did Twain try to carry his sermon on slavery to
greater depth? James T. Farrell continents extensively on
Twain's criticism of slavery:
. . . the existence of slavery explains the role that
superstition plays in the minds of Tom and Huck. Here
Mark Twain made a neat social comment. He told us, in
effect, that if we preserve the institution of slavery,
it will permeate our entire culture and become a
formidable barrier to progress. Just as slavery pro
duces meanness and brutality, so does it perpetuate
magic. Briefly, the backwardness of the slaves, treated
as property rather than as human beings, will blunt the
moral and intellectual development of the masters.
Twain's penetrating revelation of the moral and social
consequences of slavery is focused in the relationship
between Huck and Jim, the runaway slave, for it is
through intimate association Huck's moral landscape is
broadened. Huck must even learn that a Negro can love
his family as tenderly as white folks do. Jim shines
283
through the novel as a man with dignity, loyalty, and
courage. Drifting along the Mississippi, he assumes
heroic proportions, demonstrating by contrast that many
of the white men surrounding him are cruel or foolish.
(P. 29)
Few will deny that what Farrell says is true. Neither will
many deny that there are elements in the novel to validate
his observations. But did Twain mean to say exactly these
things? It is more likely that these extended observations
involve a certain amount of creative effort on the part of
the critic as well as the author.
Intelligent men seek to impose general concepts or
laws on patterns of life and behavior they have observed
whether they be real or vicarious experiences. Authors
try as a part of their literary effort to present scenes
and episodes with a high degree of verisimilitude.
(Admittedly, authors are selective in presentation in order
to effect their purposes.) To the extent that verisimili
tude is achieved, readers and reviewers glean concepts and
insights conditioned from their own background and experi
ences .
This is particularly important because criticism of
the significance of Huck Finn covers various aspects of the
book. The carefree life of Huck and Jim is compared
284
to life ashore with its intolerance and inhumanity. Most
critics call the river life real life and life ashore
insincere and unnatural. One writer takes exception to
this and labels life ashore real while life on the river is
merely a blissful dreamlike existence (Trilling, p. 603).
Others compare the novel with Don Quixote de la Mancha
because it contrasts the imaginary with the real. The
problem of the individual's responsibility to society has
often been raised in relation to the character of Huck, and
he has been labeled as irresponsible by some and the epi
tome of responsibility by others. One critic (Bellamy)
has viewed Huck Finn as a satire on institutionalism. To
her, Tom represents civilization at its highest level, a
pretense according to set patterns, mawkish, artificial,
and romantic. Huck, on the other hand, is the natural man,
free and simple, partially primitive. Jim is the complete
primitive, bound by voodoo fears and superstitions. These
interpretations of various parts of Huck Finn imply both
confusion on the part of the critics and breadth and scope
on the part of the author.
How does Tolstoy's definition of genuine art and his
delineation of the purpose of art offer insight into the
285
significance of Huck Finn? Tolstoy defined art as the pro
cess whereby the artist conveys emotions he has felt. In
several ways this is the case with Twain. Every episode
in Huck Finn had its beginnings in Sam Clemens' own boyhood
experiences or in those of his close friends. Characters
in the book had their rough counterparts among Twain’s
earlier acquaintances. Twain's descriptions of natural
beauty along the river actually convey emotion. And,
finally, to spin a humorous yam, to provoke laughter in
the listener or reader, is one of the basic ways of com
municating feeling. In four ways Huck Finn approaches
Tolstoy's definition of art.
Tolstoy felt that the purpose of art, through the con
veyance of emotions common to all men, was twofold: first,
to make men aware of their conmon heritage as human beings;
and second, to make them aware of the highest ethical con
cepts of their culture. These concepts, emanating from
fundamental Christian doctrine, were the basic relationship
of each individual to God as son to Father and the rela
tionship of each individual to all other human beings as
brother to brothers.
In Huck Finn, this purpose is fulfilled in a number of
ways. First, the theme of the book preaches a basic
286
equality in men regardless of their color. In fact, Nigger
Jim emerges as a noble figure, much grander than many of
the whites who persecute him. Second, the King and the
Duke, though admitted scoundrels, are presented as human
beings. Huck duly notes their shortcomings, but he does
not despise them. He is, if anything, too tolerant of
them. The reader feels that Twain is the same way— too
tolerant of these scoundrels. Third, Twain's most scathing
criticism of humanity in the novel is in his portrayal of
those who refuse to accept their fellow human beings as
brothers. The episode where Huck witnesses the extermina
tion of the Grangerford clan provides a sad conmentary on
the results of man's senseless hatred. Huck and Tom play
foolish games and make themselves look ludicrous, but their
games are no more foolish than those of adult society. In
fact they appear much less ludicrous by comparison. The
real measurement of an individual's worth in Huck Finn is
in a large part how he treats his fellow human beings.
In spite of all that has been said, Huck Finn is not
a thesis novel on the brotherhood of man. It is far from
that. Nor is it a sermon on Christianity. While Twain was
Christian in an ethical sense in his dealings with his
287
fellow men, he could never personally bring himself to
accept the Christian faith. He believed intensely in the
brotherhood of man but not for the same reasons as did
Tolstoy. Mark Twain felt this brotherhood instinctively;
Tolstoy was directed toward it by Christian teaching.
Twain’s feelings about his fellow men are reflected in
the book in a clear way. Tolstoy claimed that art was a
natural activity whereby the artist expressed his emotions
and his experiences. An integral part of Mark Twain's
personality was his conviction of the basic worth of every
human being. He lived and thought in these terms, more,
undoubtedly, than did Count Tolstoy. These two writers,
unique in their creative talent and unique in their breadth
of human understanding, arrived at the same basic end--the
elevation of the brotherhood of all men to the highest of
ethical values. Whether they arrived at this point because
both were men with great minds or whether they were great
because they strived in this direction is not important.
These two great novelists of the nineteenth century
preached a gospel of brotherhood that would benefit the
world then and now.
CHAPTER V
CONCLUSION
Introduction
Anna Karenina, Germinal, and The Adventures of Huckle
berry Finn have been studied and evaluated within the
framework of an outline of literary criticism formulated
from Tolstoy’s What is Art? Because there has been a
wealth of critical literature available on each of the
novels, this outline has often served as a framework for
incorporating all available critical commentary on each
work. This conclusion will compare and evaluate the find
ings of the three previous chapters. The abundance of this
material forces condensation. It will be necessary, there
fore, to re-state Tolstoy's critical dictates precisely and
to compare the three novels in relation to his exact state
ments. The insights gleaned from such a comparison are the
most valuable fruits of this study.
288
289
What Is Art?
The question, •'What is art?" has been applied with
profit to three novels. Comparing the essential qualities
of each novel with Tolstoy’s description of art clearly
offers several conclusions: First, each novel illustrates
to some degree Tolstoy’s definition of art as the natural
means whereby one man conveys to others the emotions he has
experienced. Second, the creative processes of the three
novelists offer some basis for comparison. Third, certain
qualities unique to each particular writer appear clearly
as a result of the study. These points will be examined
in detail.
The Art of the Novels versus Tolstoy’s
Definition of Art
To prove that an artist reproduces or strives to
reproduce the emotions he has experienced is an almost im
possible task. Biographical evidence may prove that a
writer utilizes his own experience in his art, but his
experience cannot be equated with his feeling during the
experience. An author’s statements as to how his books
take shape may afford insight into this problem, but again,
these statements, as in the case of Zola, are not always
290
reliable. Both of these sources should be examined for the
evidence they offer.
English-speaking critics, from Matthew Arnold on, have
indicated that much of Anna Karenina is autobiographical in
nature. The life of the character, Constantin Levin, is
remarkably parallel to Tolstoy's own. Certain scenes, such
as Levin's presence at the bedside of his dying brother,
Nikolay, would appear to be particularly obvious examples
of the author's attempts to re-create experiences which
left a deep emotional imprint upon him.
Evidence that Levin and Tolstoy were much the same has
been expressed by the novelist's wife and brother. Sophia
Alexandrovna on one occasion endearingly called her husband
"Levin plus talent." Tolstoy’s brother has written that
the character of Levin was very much like that of his
creator except that the anti-society attitude of Levin had
been exaggerated for artistic effect.
Fear of death plagued Levin shortly after his mar
riage. Tolstoy, though he died at the age of eighty-two,
relates in his autobiography that from the age of forty he
became preoccupied with the inevitability of death. In
such an instance as this, it would seem almost certain that
291
the feelings portrayed in Anna Karenina are similar to
those the author had felt. The nature of Levinfs proposal
to Kitty, his conduct on his wedding day, his feelings at
the birth of his first child, and, perhaps most important
of all, the correlation between the sequence of these
events in the life of the author and in the life of the
character offer evidence that Tolstoy was in Anna Karenina
consciously re-creating emotions he had felt.
We must agree with Thomas Mann that the spiritual his
tory of Levin portrayed in Anna Karenina is also the
spiritual history of Tolstoy.^ Here the word "spiritual”
is the key. On one hand it describes the composite of emo
tional experiences that resulted in the emotional growth of
both author and character. On the other hand it labels the
growth and positive, progressive change from these emo
tional experiences. This second aspect of the spiritual
history of Levin is probably the quality that gives Anna
Karenina its greatness.
ESnile Zola made no pretense of writing from personal
experience in Germinal. It is true that in his boyhood
^Essays of Three Decades (New York, 1948), p. 181.
292
and youth he became accustomed to hunger and privation.
It is the fact, too, that he studied the Anzin mines, the
miners, and their working conditions before he started the
composition of Germinal. While the scenes in his novel are
laden with emotion, these emotions are as vicarious to the
author as to the reader.
Mark Twain has written in his Autobiography that every
incident in Huck Finn had its origin in his own boyhood
experiences or those of his friends. Whether these adven
tures were boyhood pranks or traumatic events such as a man
being shot down in the street, they were used alike as
starting points by an exceptional storyteller. Entries in
The Mark Twain Handbook indicate that the author made little
or no attempt to reproduce the emotional impact of these
scenes as it affected him. Rather he wrote "in the mellow
light of fond recollection.1 1 With the basis of established
fact to guide him, his imagination was confined to a frame
work that seemed generally creditable. While actual ex
perience was his starting point, the finished scene in the
book often bore little resemblance to the original episode.
It is apparent that Tolstoy was the only writer of the
three who tried to re-create in his novel emotions that
293
he himself had experienced. Even he was unable to do this
throughout the book. The emotional experiences of Anna,
Kitty, Vronsky, and most of the other characters in the
novel had to be drawn from the author's observation and
imagination. If Levin is a more complete character than
any of the others, it is a tribute to the fact that the
spiritual growth of the author, as reproduced through the
character, is a quality of great art. This same quality is
obvious in such other great writers as Dickens, Ibsen, and
Goethe.
Infectiousness of Bnotion
In the scenes in Anna Karenina where the emotions
expressed are vicarious, Tolstoy seems to want to explore
the emotional reactions of men and women quite different
from himself. Joyce Cary tells us that Tolstoy's interest
in writing the story of the life of a Russian woman was
first aroused when a piece of Turkish embroidery caught his
2
eye. The beauty of this embroidery did not intrigue him
as much as did the question of how it felt to be a woman
2
Art and Reality: Wavs of the Creative Process (New
York, 1958), p. 107.
294
forced to occupy so many hours on such a painstaking task
just so that one such as he might have an ornate dressing
gown. While he wondered at the work of a Turkish woman,
Tolstoy felt better qualified to write about the life of
a Russian noble woman. Anna was hardly a woman slavishly
dedicated to the art of embroidery, but her story is a
study of womanly passions--an emotional portrayal as in
tense, but less convincing than that of Levin.
Tolstoy's ability to evoke feeling with the touch of
his pen--the selection of a particularly touching detail--
made it easy for him to create a living character with a
few sentences. In each episode, his characters are so
openly and frankly exposed to the reader's eye that the
compounding of these episodes provides for depth of charac
terization without the author's appearing to give any
attention to this problem. This evocative power--an
ability to infect the reader with emotion in any manner
he chooses--accounts for Tolstoy's economy of character
izations, and, consequently, his ability to produce so many
characters and unfold such a wide panorama of life on the
pages of Anna Karenina.
Zola’s use of emotion in Germinal is worth careful
study. His scenes may be classified in two ways. Some
295
seem to be Impersonal, objective descriptions of the people
associated with the mines, their lives, and their problems.
Other scenes are highly romanticized, poetical, and ex
tremely emotional.
The first seventy pages of the book describe £tienne's
entry into the mining community where he gets a job and
spends his first day in the mine. This section exemplifies
Zola's objective, descriptive style of writing. It is the
style that convinced many people that his books were
clinical experiments. Chapter II of the present study has
shown that in these seventy pages, Zola describes five
brief contacts between Etienne and Catherine (pp. 141-144).
By the end of the fifth encounter, the reader feels that
the two are in love. Zola makes use of concrete and
sensual detail to evoke responses in his reader. His touch
at creating a response is almost as deft as Tolstoy's here.
By the nature of the evocative details selected, the
response is base and earthy.
Zola seems to have been carried away with himself in
certain scenes such as the poem of the mob. The emotional
overtones of the scene become so strong that it would
appear that the author, as well as the furious miners,
296
is driven into a frenzy by the course of events. This may
be more than likely because Zola seems to have had a deep
personal fear of being lost in large crowds of people him
self. These violent scenes are indeed infectious. Their
emotional strength imparts much of the force that makes
Germinal a masterpiece.
These scenes are made more forceful by Zola*s use of
poetical devices. He employs metaphor and simile without
restraint. The sentence, "The pit gulped men down in
mouthfuls of twenty or thirty," is a strange product of a
man claiming scientific objectivity for his work. There is
no doubt that Zola conscientiously utilized his writing
talents to evoke emotion--emotion that readily infected the
reader.
The emotions conveyed by Zola*s scenes are even more
infectious than those conveyed by Tolstoy*s. In Zola*s
case the emotions were vicarious. For the greater part of
his life he was a man chained to his pen. Armand Lanoux
has observed while conmenting on Zola*s affair with Jeanne
Roseret that when passion entered Zola*s life, sex passed
out of his books. This would not only indicate that the
forceful emotions pervading Germinal were vicarious, but
297
also that their creation actually filled an emotional void
in the author's life. Although Germinal lacked the scien
tific objectivity its author claimed for it, perhaps the
expression of purpose of another naturalistic writer,
James T. Farrell, could be fairly applied to Zola. It
might be honestly said that he wrote novels "to explore the
O
nature of experience.
In terms of strength, the emotional overtones of
Germinal are magnificent. Eknphasis is the essence of his
artistry. In terms of quality of emotion less praise can
be given. The emotions evoked in Zola's novels are basic
and elemental. They appeal to the material and sensual
nature of man. Critics have characterized Zola as forceful
but not intellectual. The comparison made by this study
would indicate, however, that Zola's shortcomings were in
breadth and refinement of personal experience rather than
lack of acuity. His simplicity and directness are the keys
to his literary success-
Mark Twain was well aware of the infectiousness of
emotion. In one passage in Buck Finn he describes, through
3
"Some Observations on Naturalism, So-Called, in
Fiction," Antioch Review. 10:258, June 1950.
Huck, the feelings of warmth and good cheer that are evoked
by a group singing church hymns together. More applicable
to his purposes, though, Twain tells the story of how his
mother and aunt, notable homebodies, once attended a
minstrel show. The Christy minstrels had little that was
new or exciting for the majority of the audience, which was
accustomed to this form of entertainment, but to the two
women, everything was new. Their reactions were frank and
spontaneous. For a while their giggling was all that could
be heard among the audience in the auditorium. Twain tells
us that their laughter soon caught hold, and the entire
crowd was roaring at the womout comedy. The townspeople
went home that night, their sides sore with laughter and
their souls extremely grateful to the two old ladies for
changing what portended to be an evening of boredom into
an evening of mirth.
Twain shows other signs of his awareness of the in
fectious quality of humor when in his Autobiography he
recounts his technique for "warming up" a lecture audience.
A few good jokes would put everyone in a cheerful mood;
then even poor jokes succeeded in adding to the hilarity
of the audience’s response.
299
Twain was well aware of the fact that other emotions
had the same infectious quality that was manifested in dis
plays of humor. His use of this awareness reveals some
thing of his art. His scenes portraying the pre-Civil War
South are magnificent in their objective, dispassionate
presentation. The Boggs-Sherbum scene and its sequel are
examples of this. Colonel Sherbum is so provoked by the
obnoxious drunk, Boggs, that he shoots him down in cold
blood. The townspeople, stimulated by the cries of a few,
become an angry mob and threaten to lynch the Colonel.
Infectiousness of emotion is never more apparent than when
exemplified by the actions of a mob. In direct contrast to
Zola's technique, Mark Twain renders this scene dispassion
ately. No judgment of the actions is made. Although the
reader perceives the events clearly, he is left with no
emotional bias. In fact, readers are clearly divided on
the issue as to whether Sherbum was villain or hero. No
infectious emotion is conveyed to the reader by these
realistic scenes in Huck Finn.
In contrast, Twain's descriptions of the natural
beauty of the scenery along the Mississippi River leave
Huck's lips with an enthusiasm that imparts emotion.
300
An emotional response to natural beauty infects the reader
through these pages of Huck Finn.
The humorous scenes in the novel are the very anti
thesis of his realistic portrayals. Twain knew that humor
was the most infectious of all emotions, and he made good
use of this knowledge. A reader who allows himself to be
infected by the hilarity of the long ending of the novel
will feel that this is the choice part of the book. Those
critics who applaud Twain's realistic portrayals disagree
violently. To them this long burlesque conclusion serves
little or no purpose. In fact, they say, it detracts from
any serious purpose the book may have had. Twain himself
liked the conclusion best.
Mark Twain's ability to evoke infectious emotion in
a humorous scene gave him the same ability to characterize
as Zola and Tolstoy. Like them, he was not particularly
good at the systematic development of complete, well-
rounded characters, but again like them he had a flair for
making his characters alive with a single sentence. This
is true only of Jim, Huck, Tom, the King and the Duke
and the other characters introduced in the humorous, in
fectious scenes in the book. Those in the realistic
301
sections, such as the Grangerfords and Colonel Sherbum,
though magnificent portrayals of genuine types, were never
really alive. There is little feeling in these sections of
Huck Finn.
Against his own protests Mark was likened to Charles
Dickens because both possessed the same remarkable faculty
of mixing humor with pathos. Twain's humor was constructed
technically by viewing a situation from an uncommon per
spective or by making a unique juxtaposition of ideas. His
novels have been criticized for their anecdotal nature.
All of this fits nicely into perspective when viewed in
relation to Tolstoy's definition of art.
Tolstoy felt that art was the process whereby the
writer created emotions that infected the reader. Twain's
humorous anecdotes do just this, but Huck Finn as a total
artistic unit does not. His humorous scenes involving Tom
and Huck and their passengers on the raft do infect the
reader. His more realistic scenes do not. Twain defi
nitely preferred those sections of his novel which evoked
infectious humor. The approach this paper takes to his
book would indicate that it is on the natural units within
his novel--the short, humorous, sometimes sad, infectious
302
anecdotes--that his literary worth should be judged, and
judged highly.
Counterfeit Art versus Genuine Art
In order to clarify his distinction between what he
called counterfeit art and genuine art, Tolstoy listed and
explained what he considered the characteristics of both.
An examination of Anna Karenina, Germinal. and Huck Finn
from the standpoint of these characteristics of counterfeit
and genuine art offers insight into each novel as well as
interesting material for comparing the three.
Counterfeit Art
Counterfeit art, a label Tolstoy stamped on most of
the artistic production of his day, was characterized by
four devices or techniques used by writers as substitutes
for genuine art. These methods or techniques included:
(1) borrowing something that had previously appeared in art
form; (2) imitation in exact form of something that
appeared in real life; (3) use of sensational or striking
events; and (4) use of material, such as history, which
interests but does not really infect the reader.
303
Borrowing from literature and tradition. A glance
at Anna Karenina is ample to suggest that Tolstoy was some
what introspective when he stated that the genuine artist
must not borrow his material or allow other writers,
other books, or schools of writing to influence his work.
Tolstoy is unique among great men of letters in that he
has not looked to other great masters of literature for
models. In Anna Karenina he was interested in the basic
problems of normal human existence, such as love, marriage,
birth of a child, man’s relation to man, and man's rela
tion to God. He found experience and observation of life
a more ample storeroom for such material than any collec
tion of literary works. The scope of the subject he
undertook--Anna Karenina is dwarfed by War and Peace, but
it is still monumental in scope--was so comprehensive that
Tolstoy could hardly turn for guidance to men who had
achieved so much less. Finally, a great deal of material--
the complete story of Constantin Levin--was autobiographi
cal. The story of Anna was constructed vicariously, but
its outline generally dovetails with that of Levin in terms
of type of experience. This glance at the source of
Tolstoy's material shows that his own emotional experience
304
was the foundation upon which his novel was built. This,
again, is in harmony with his basic definition of art.
✓
Ebiile Zola, on the other hand, was very conscious of
his chronological position in the flow of literary and
aesthetic tradition. Germinal reflects the influence of
specific writers of both the Romantic and Realistic Move
ments. Zola was personally acquainted with many of these
men. Certain scenes in Germinal, such as the poem of the
mob, seem very close to expressionism. Here again, a
select group of Parisian painters, as for instance,
Cezanne, were numbered among the author*s friends. He was
so aware of schools of literature that he assumed the role
of spokesman for his own--naturalism. Even though natural
ism, as he preached and practiced it, was somewhat of a
4
farce, Zola's ability to select and reject from the mass
of influences around him and his ability to try something
new were his redeeming qualities.
Zola shopped in the artistic circles of Paris, study
ing all, selecting here, and rejecting there to build up
^For evidence which indicates that Zola knew he was
misrepresenting his own work in his treatises on natural
ism, see Chapter II of the present study, pp. 136-139.
305
his store of effective techniques, but he turned to soli-
tary research to acquire a familiarity with his subject
matter before embarking upon the composition of Germinal.
He poured over textbooks and newspapers, gleaning informa
tion on mining, socialism, and economic theory. His well-
publicized personal inspection of the Anzin mines aided him
in acquiring a background for his task. Obviously, Zola
used the resources of research and literary method at his
disposal to fill a void created by the fact that he was
writing of situations and emotions he had not experienced.
To his credit his sources were his tools, not he theirs.
He selected wisely as indicated by his result--a novel of
extraordinary emotional power.
Mark Twain, like Tolstoy, drew his material from per
sonal experience or from the experience of acquaintances.
He was, consequently, free from the influence of literature
and literary tradition.
His taste for the natural as opposed to the sophisti
cated was remarkably like Tolstoy's. In general, he was
impervious to aesthetic endeavors but was enthralled by
nature. Like Tolstoy, he deplored Wagner and almost all
other opera. He loved negro spirituals in much the same
306
way Tolstoy was thrilled by the voice of a peasant woman
singing to her child. Twain expressed a strong dislike for
the novels of Jane Austin. It can be conjectured that this
is because her novels dealt with a limited, constrained
society in which a man would lack ample room for free ex
pression of his own individuality. Again, the American and
Russian novelists appear to be of the same mettle.
Twain has been linked with Dickens and Cervantes.
Scholars who try to prove that he was influenced by either
of these novelists are unconvincing. Bernard De Voto has
written two articles arguing that Twain was quite free from
the influence of literary tradition. Writing in a new
country requiring a new literature, with only a remote his
tory of literary tradition and with no canons of literary
criticism, Mark Twain was free to create his own form. It
is true that his experience as a frontier journalist left
an indelible mark upon his style. Even here Twain took
techniques in common use, refined them, and created in
novel form art much greater than anything conceived by his
models, the frontier journalists. Even his debt to these
journalists was not so much a literary influence as an
experiential influence, as he developed his style by
writing.
307
Imitation of real life. The imitation or exact repro
duction of an event was the second counterfeit form of art
mentioned by Tolstoy. It is a truism that mere reporting
is not artistic creation. Anna Karenina. Germinal, and
Huck Finn would never have attained their positions among
the world’s great novels if they were characterized by mere
reporting rather than literary creativity of the highest
quality. An examination as to how each writer achieves
more with his scenes than the mere reproduction of actual
experience, however, affords insight into his creative
techniques.
Aiwa Karenina purports to be a book about life, its
problems and annoyances, its joys and excitements. Matthew
Arnold, the novel’s first English-speaking critic, says the
book was too much a reproduction of actual life. He based
this criticism on the fact that Tolstoy devoted pages to
such insignificant events as the scene where Levin was
caught without a clean shirt in his apartment on his wedding
day. Arnold felt that this sort of writing violates our
sense of the ratio that should exist between the importance
of an event and the amount of space given to it. Lionel
Trilling answered Arnold's criticism years later when he
308
observed that Tolstoy knew that the spirit of roan is always
at the mercy of the trivial and the actual. It is the
small things, not the few great events, that shape the
pattern of men’s lives.
In the analysis in Chapter II of how Tolstoy presents
the scene of Levin's inspection and appraisal of a new
born calf from Pava, his prize cow, it is clear that
Tolstoy carefully selected detail and ingeniously combined
this detail with movement to effect a unity of mood.
Actions and detail are all designed and presented in such
a way that the reader shares Levin's joy at the birth of
the calf. This infectious feeling of joy is the result for
which the artist has striven and which he succeeds in
achieving.
As the reader shares Levin's joy, he feels closer to
and better acquainted with Tolstoy's hero. It is by means
of scenes such as this that Levin's character is developed
throughout the book. It is important to note that this is
the method Tolstoy uses to develop his characters. Just as
so many of the scenes centering around Levin infect the
reader with joy, many centering around Anna fill the reader
with despair, and those around Karenin and Vronsky with
309
irony, pity, or disgust. In Anna Karenina Tolstoy does not
reproduce life or even, necessarily, his own experiences;
he reproduces the emotion associated with his experience.
Sometimes this is executed so well that the mere reference
to a character may arouse in the reader a feeling or mood.
In The Experimental Novel Zola wrote that a novelist
should set up real life situations, observe how the actions
of his characters take shape, and from his observations
form new rules for human behavior. Looking at Germinal in
retrospect, the reader cannot but feel that the mob riots
climaxing the book were the inevitable results of the
preceding scenes. While at first glance these two observa
tions may appear to harmonize with each other, they are, in
fact, contradictory. The first reflects the spirit of
science, of freedom of inquiry, and of progressive improve
ment for mankind. The second implies determinism.
Edmund Wilson has analysed Zola's method of composi
tion. He states that Zola sought to create fourteen or
fifteen different emotional forces. These forces are com
plementary, growing stronger and stronger as they are
superimposed upon each other "with the breath of passion
animating all." In some cases these forces are individuals.
310
Zola threaded the stories of individual characters into the
mass movements of the novel. The combined effort of
several individual tragedies is much more heartrending
than a single tragedy involving a mass of people. Wilson
tells us that Zola adds to this compounding of emotional
effect an atmospheric intensity. These are the elements of
his success. They are, in effect, expressionistic. Though
Zola claimed to be the promulgator of naturalism and though
elements of romanticism and realism are to be found in his
work, one cannot honestly classify Zola without acknowledg
ing that the high points of Germinal are strongly expres
sionistic .
One feels that the characters in Germinal are trapped
(long before the mine caves in). There is an atmosphere of
the inescapable and the inevitable pervading the book.
Zola adheres to a unity of time, though awkwardly, and a
unity of place. The workers are bound to their homes and
their quarries--the homes and quarries of their families
for many generations. Economic necessity and habit confine
them to this environment. Their geographical prison gives
the novel its unity of place. In the final scene in the
*
book Etienne, an outsider to the mining conmunity, leaves
311
to start life anew. With his departure there is the sug
gestion of hope and rebirth. The light of better things to
come seems to shine on the mining community for the first
time.
Zola can in no way be accused of merely reproducing
scenes from real life in Germinal. He took the components
of real life, arranged them with strong artistic control,
and created a novel of unusual emotional strength and in
fectiousness. He shaped his material to preach a truth
about life. The strength and simplification of his
material may have resulted in a truth that does not reveal
life as comprehensively as it ought to be viewed. Never
theless, he created a powerful work of art.
The material used by Mark Twain is almost unrecog
nizable when presented in finalized form in Huck Finn.
Writing of his boyhood experiences Min the mellow light of
fond recollection" and throwing in an occasional frontier
yam, Twain created a finished product which bore little
resemblance to the events originally suggesting the indi
vidual episodes.
In some ways Twain simplified the life and adventures
he narrated, replying on the charm of the story to conceal
312
a superficiality in the presentation. It is necessary to
note, however, that one of the virtues of Twain's por
trayals of life, as witnessed by Huck when his raft touched
shore, is their psychological depth. The episodes dealing
with the Grangerfords and with Colonel Sherbum reflect
thoroughness and accuracy in psychological depth.
The objectivity of these portrayals of the pre-Civil
War South may be misleading. In the Boggs-Sherbum epi
sode, for instance, Twain makes no effort to aid his
readers to distinguish hero from villain. Rather, he tells
the tale with such restraint that there is no condemnation
or approval implicit in the scene itself. The reader is
left completely free to make his own judgments. This is
not the result of lack of control on the part of the
author, but is, rather, the result of the most refined and
most powerful type of control.
Twain achieves this objectivity by presenting every
thing through the medium of his principal character, Huck.
He also uses this technique as a means of artistic control
in the humorous part of the book. Huck's reactions to
Tom's fanciful plans to liberate Nigger Jim from the
chicken house or his puzzlement at Aunt Sally's indignation
313
over some of their boyish games are priceless. Huck’s
descriptions and personal reactions in these scenes are the
most effective elements creating the infectious hilarity of
sections of the book.
Finally, the broad presentation of life in Twain’s
novel is worthy of note. Huck Finn has been likened to an
epic primarily because of the breadth of the novel. It has
been said that the book reveals every stratum of society in
the pre-Civil War South. Yet this presentation appears so
natural that scholars find it necessary to draw the
reader’s attention to the historical and sociological
fidelity of this book written so simply that it will cap
tivate children's imagination. Twain did not seek to imi
tate real life. Rather, he combined his materials in such
a way as to bring focus on four qualities: psychological
depth, objectivity of portrayal, uniqueness of commentary
on the part of the storyteller, Huck, and finally, breadth
and scope of the society portrayed.
Sensational or striking events. Tolstoy was well
aware of the fact that literary descriptions of violence,
of physical passions, and of sensational experiences would
arouse emotions in the reader. He knew that many writers
314
sought to evoke this kind of response from their readers.
This was a counterfeit for genuine art. To Tolstoy the
*
artist was an individual who, with purpose, re-created
for others emotional experiences he had felt. This is a
deeper, more purposeful goal than merely evoking emotional
responses by relating sensational and striking events.
The most flagrant use of the sensational as a counter
feit for genuine art is usually in the realm of the sen
sual. In this respect Anna Karenina is exceptionally free
of contamination. Although the subject of the novel is
avowedly an illicit love affair, sex or any sensual allu
sions to sex are never mentioned.
Although Tolstoy on occasion uses material which pro
vides him with a wealth of opportunity to evoke sensational
responses in his reader, his method of handling this ma
terial carefully avoids this effect. His description of
the death of Nikolay exemplifies his artistic restraint.
Even though Tolstoy goes to some length to describe the
last hours of Levin's brother, nothing of a sensational
manner is described. Tolstoy handles the scene by record
ing what passes through Levin’s mind. Levin feels helpless
in the presence of death. He is surprised to see Kitty
315
take charge, clean the room, and, in general, make the
dying man comfortable. The focus of the scene is as much
on Kitty actively trying to help Nikolay as it is on
Nikolay passively dying. In all, Levin is distracted from
his melancholy by surprise at the capabilities of his wife
and a new-found respect for those who do not ponder such
issues as death and birth but seem instinctively to be able
to act. In spite of the nature of its subject matter,
there is nothing in this scene to evoke response akin to
the sensational. Rather, it is genuine art.
The same cannot be said of Germinal. Sensational and
striking events permeate the book contributing much to its
powerful effect. Upon first publication of the novel,
literary critics in many countries expressed an initial
horror at its sensational elements, especially sex. In
response to any claim that Zola was merely trying to por
tray real life, most of the early critics observed that
Zola not only described sex, but seemed to revel in his
descriptions.^ Certainly It must be admitted that Zola
Winthrop H. Root, German Criticism of Zola 1875-1893
(New York, 1931), p. 80. Root traces German criticism of
Zola. German critics, much in the same manner as later
English and American critics, were initially shocked and
disgusted, but with the passage of time came to value Zola
highly.
316
derives the maximum in emotional effect from these descrip
tions.
The only justification of Zola's technique here is
that perhaps it was necessary to shock his readers in order
to dramatize the injustices imposed upon the miners. A
Tolstoy might have achieved by subtler means the same goal
Zola sought to attain. But Zola, limited by his own
talent, could only get his point across by using shock
techniques. This argument is offered more as an excuse
than a reason. Zola is not widely read today, and it is
suggested that the fact he turned so often to the sensa
tional and the striking--beyond the boundaries of good
taste--may account for the fact that his books are not
accorded a position among the masterpieces of the world
commensurate with their emotional force.
At first glance there would appear to be nothing in
Huck Finn to condemn the novel as being overly sensational.
Not all contemporary critics felt this way. The book was
banned in several cities. There were, perhaps, two reasons
for this. The major issue of the book is the struggle of
a boy's conscience against the teachings of conventional
morality. To picture conventional morality as an evil
317
influence is a terrible thing! The second reason may be
that the physical environment in which Huck and Jim lived
seems so subhuman that Twain's portrayal bothers the
conscience of more comfortable people.
Huck Finn is accepted today as a book wholesome enough
to be recommended to American school children. (This is
vindication enough of the criticism leveled by those who
banned the initial publication.) There is no sex in the
book. Twain's wife, Livy, carefully insured the absence of
profanity from the final draft. Livy also exercised a
safeguard to make sure that the humor was not too blatant.
She would read the humorous sections to their daughters.
If the young girls enjoyed the humor too much, Livy would
strike it out of the book as being too unsophisticated for
more mature readers.
This reminder that humor may occasionally be too
strong to be in good taste leads to the reflection that
infectious humor may give way to the sensational. If the
humor is overdone, it is not funny. Sometimes it can be
funny but cruel. In either case it is beyond the bounda
ries of good taste. Are there times when Twain's humor
becomes too blatant or sensational? To some, the long,
3X8
comical conclusion of the novel fits this category. When
Tom and Huck develop their elaborate, farcical schemes to
free Jim from the chicken house, the real butt of most of
the boyish humor is Jim. Earlier in the book Jim had been
given stature as a gentle and selfless soul. Here, he is
degraded--a mere pawn of boyish pranksters. This is not a
character change, but an inconsistency on the part of the
author. Twain sacrifices all for humor here. If the
reader were to feel empathy with Jim in these scenes, he
would feel miserable. Twain is skillful enough to see that
this does not happen. The emotion aroused by the scene is
provocative of laughter. The reader becomes infected with
the humor. He sees the scene only from the standpoint of
the humor and does not inspect each participant in the
scene to see if his actions are consistent with his charac
ter. Twain is justified in these humorous scenes when he
sacrifices everything else for the sake of the humor.
Use of interesting material to dilute art. Tolstoy
was aware that the discovery of a new fact or the success
ful solution of a complex problem leaves the reader with
a sense of satisfaction. This feeling, he claimed, is
sometimes confused with the infectious response to a work
319
of art. Some writers capitalize on this confusion by in
cluding in their writings material that is interesting but
not genuine art. Two examples of this material are the
documentation to be found in historical novels and the
symbolism found in many forms of writing, which Tolstoy
considered particularly objectionable in the poetry of the
decadents.
Anna Karenina is a novel of family life. Unlike War
and Peace, for instance, it reflects little historical
documentation. This great novel is not, however, without
material which Tolstoy considered superfluous in a work of
art--symbolism.
In one episode Vronsky, in an accidental manner,
fatally injures his mare, Frou Frou, while she is leading
in the stretch of the steeplechase race. Critics have
objected to the obvious allegorical allusions imparted by
this scene. Frou Frou is such a sensitive, highly bred,
and noble creature that the comparison between how Vronsky
fails the animal he loves and how he will later fail the
woman he loves is unavoidable.
When one searches for the significance of this sym
bolism, however, any apparent obviousness disappears.
320
The scene does not interpret the novel, rather it serves
only to delineate the character of Vronsky--a character
Tolstoy found extremely difficult to present. While
Tolstoy does use symbolism occasionally in Anna Karenina.
it is not particularly objectionable in the sense that it
confuses the reader by substituting counterfeit art for the
genuine. In this and other scenes symbolism is used as a
technical device for clarification and delineation of
character.
In the case of Germinal it has been shown that Zola
applied the resources of research and imagination to
develop the novel’s powerful emotive scenes. By Tolstoy’s
definition all of the novel is counterfeit art. Zola’s
scenes do, however, have an intense, infectious, vicarious
emotional strength. With profit, an examination has been
conducted to determine whether or not the emotional
strength of these scenes has been diluted by the inclusion
of interesting material.
The initial seventy pages of the novel were devoted to
the description of Etienne's first day in the mine. The
major portion of this section is devoted to a physical
description of Etienne's surroundings. This description
321
is far from impersonal and objective. Nothing is rendered
factually. The material that Zola collected by reading
and personal observation is dramatized through the experi
ences of the principal characters. When physical objects
are described, the treatment is so romanticized that the
object seems animated. For instance, Zola describes the
mine as a monster devouring men in great gulps. The
material is presented in such a way that each fact height
ens the emotional power of the scene and, consequently, the
subsequent narrative.
Symbolism is manifested in various ways through the
course of Germinal. The principal characters are symbols
for whole groups of people who have been shaped by the
mine's influence upon their lives. Certain scenes reflect
in microcosm the basic issues of the novel. Concrete ob
jects like the mine, Le Voreau, become vague but powerful
symbols. Finally, destruction and, as the name of the book
implies, rebirth, as applied to the economic and social
order, are treated symbolically.
One of the weaknesses of the novel, according to
D. L. Murray, is that the principal characters are merely
symbols. Maheu represents an honest, hardworking man
322
toiling in the same manner as did his father and grand
father. His acceptance of the intolerable working condi
tions imposed upon him mark him as a silent sufferer,
combining the qualities of Christian martyr and dumb animal.
His son, Jeanlin, crippled, embittered, and given more free
time to brood, reacts differently. Jeanlin evolves from
moody boy to petty thief, to a tyrant domineering his play
mates, to a clever and complete criminal, and finally to a
murderer. The mine that crippled him and imposed intoler
able conditions upon his family is clearly to blame. Jean
lin symbolizes one form of character deterioration brought
about by sub-human economic and social conditions. Each
member of his family symbolizes another aspect of this
decay. There is no doubt that these characters, viewed in
retrospect, are symbols. It is to Zola's credit, however,
that they do not appear merely as symbols to the empathetic
reader engrossed in the novel for the first time.
Symbolism is not so obvious in the series of scenes
between old Bonnemort and young Cecile Gregoires. Yet a
study of their relationship brings to light all the issues
dramatized by the novel. Bonnemort, crippled and broken
by the mine, is reduced to a sub-human level by his work
323
and the suffering of his family. Cecile is the daughter of
bourgeois parents who own enough of the mine that they may
live comfortably without work. Their one great aspiration
is to leave their daughter happy. When Bonnemort strangles
Cecile, the symbolic ramifications of the incident reflect
the complexity of the entire novel. The degradation of
old Bonnemort and his hatred for those who own the mine are
revealed. All that the Gregoires really value is destroyed
with Cecile's death. The mine has left them stricken and
shattered just as it has the Maheu family. The mine has a
detrimental effect on all associated with it regardless of
the stratum of society they occupy. (The novel carries this
idea much further than is apparent in this illustration.)
The fact that Bonnemort kills Cecile in his second attempt
has parallel implications in the story. The mob's first
outburst is suppressed just as is Bonnemort's first attempt
to strangle the girl. The second time he succeeds, imply
ing, perhaps, that the second time the mob arises, it will
destroy the system that enslaves it.
While the symbols above are subtle and their meaning
may be finely drawn, Zola makes use of other symbols which
are much more obvious. The mine, Le Voreau, is the most
324
prominent of these. If the symbols in a work of art can be
reduced to a concrete formula, they serve to convert a work
of art into a simple mathematical statement or a common
precept. If, on the other hand, the symbolism alludes to
a vague, higher truth which cannot be completely articu
lated, the significance of the work of art seems enhanced.
Le Voreau is such a powerful symbol that it appears to be
alive--more a monster hungry for human flesh than a piece
of earth where men labor for their bread. The mine has
been called a symbol for capitalism, but this is an over
simplification of all the factors in the book. To say that
it represents all the "evils of the system" is about as
precise a statement as can be made of this symbol. The
emotional force of the novel is augmented by Zola’s
romantic handling of symbols. Their vagueness of meaning
enhances Germinal * s emotional strength.
The title of the novel suggests birth. The death of
the old decaying order and hope for the birth of a new are
predicted in the closing paragraphs of Germinal. Even
sexual symbolism is associated with the ideas of birth and
death according to Martin Tumell. The desecration of
Magrait's body by the mob of women and the destruction of
325
the structure above .the mine suggest the theme of castra
tion. Not only must the old order be destroyed, its re
birth must be prevented. Only in this way can a new order
arise.
Zola uses subtle symbols in Germinal to elaborate on
the message of the book. His more obvious symbols add
emphasis to the buildup in emotional force. Both of these
types were condemned by Tolstoy as counterfeit art. The
first leads to an intellectual game. Though this game may
stimulate the reader, it offers only a substitute for the
emotional experience of genuine art. In the case of the
more obvious symbolism, an emotional effect is created.
This emotional effect is not, however, the re-creation of
emotion the author has experienced. It, too, is counter
feit art.
The episodic, rambling nature of Huck Finn would sug
gest that Mark Twain was guilty of diluting his art with
interesting but irrelevant material. Closer inspection of
the novel suggests, however, that Tolstoy's definition of
art applies more appropriately to the individual episodes
than to the novel in its entirety. This is particularly
significant because Twain valued his work in the same way.
326
The individual episode was the focus of his attention.
Twain can be appreciated much more when his episodes are
considered separately rather than in the framework of an
artistic whole. There are critics who in a work of art
seek to find a total that equals more than the sum of its
parts. These men are unhappy with Huck Finn. In this book
each part exudes a brightness that dims when all parts are
considered together.
Several critics, in their concern for viewing the work
as an artistic whole, have made rather complex interpreta-
tions of Huck Finn. Frank Baldenza's observations seem the
most intelligent of these. He observes in Huck Finn an
unconscious use of rhythm. This rhythm follows a pattern
of repetition plus variation. Early in the journey Huck
puts a rattlesnake skin in Jim's bedding. This prank is
repeated when Tom and Huck fill Jim's chickenhouse jail
with live snakes of a more harmless variety. This is one
of several examples Baldenza uses to show that the uncon
scious pattern of repetition plus variation was brought
about when Twain's imagination lagged. He started with old
ideas again and developed them in new directions.
Certain other critics show less immediate familiarity
with the text of Huck Finn in their efforts to present
327
complicated interpretations. Edward Wasiolek has written
that the novel contrasts a real world with a make-believe
world. The life Huck and Jim lead on the raft is genuine.
The episodes they witness ashore involve tradition-bound
characters walking through their roles. Kenneth Lynn
advances the concept that the theme of death and rebirth
is an intrinsic part of each of Huck's episodes. In addi
tion, in each new life Huck is searching for two things--
freedom and a father. These two are elusive in that either
one precludes the other for this wild, young boy. James M.
Cox carries Lynn's ideas of a death-and-rebirth theme to
even greater length, showing in detail how Huck is destroyed
at the end of each adventure and comes to life with a new
identity for each succeeding episode. In the Grangerford-
Shepherdson adventure, for instance, he is George Jackson,
not Huck Finn. All of these interpretations sound very
impressive until one returns to the novel with its frank,
clear, good humor and vivid portrayals. It is a great
novel because of its simplicity and its directness.
Counterfeit art and the novels: a comparison. The
terms "genuine art" and "counterfeit art" are meaningful
only as they distinguish the activity Tolstoy defined
328
as art from the activity which is generally considered art
but does not fully correspond with his definition. Tolstoy
would have had to classify Anna Karenina. Germinal, and
Huck Finn as counterfeit art because none of them com
pletely illustrates his definition of art. This study has
indicated that each novel contains some of the elements of
what Tolstoy called genuine art and, equally important,
some of the elements which he considered characteristic of
counterfeit art. It is worthwhile to consider whether so-
called counterfeit art contributed to or detracted from the
novels studied in the manner Tolstoy claimed it would.
Tolstoy and Twain appear to be relatively free of the
influence of literary tradition and the influence of other
works of art. Part of the reason for this may be that
their respective countries did not have a literary heritage
or culture of any considerable breadth at the time their
artistic powers reached maturation. In fact, sophisticated
society in both Russia and the United States tended to look
abroad for its cultural enrichment. Contempt for this pro
cedure is clearly evident in Tolstoy’s book What is Art?
Twain, too, seemed more concerned with his own experience
and his own country. While he did not state this feeling,
329
his actions and interests indicate that he would have very
little to do with any activity passing under the name of
art which would only be enjoyed by an ultra-sophisticated
few. In his later years on a trip to Rome he voiced dis
pleasure with Italian works of art because they could only
have been produced by a society which relegated a large
portion of its population to slave labor. Tolstoy begins
his book, What is Art? with a reflection of a similar
nature.
In the novels of Twain and Tolstoy the immediate in
fluences of life and experience are much more apparent than
in those of most novelists of world fame. In Anna Karenina
it is apparent that Tolstoy actually re-created emotions he
had experienced when he presented the life of Constantin
levin. He presented the experiences of Anna primarily as
problems of the same nature and magnitude as those of
Levin. Although Anna’s emotional reactions and resolutions
of her problems were treated vicariously, their nature was
suggested by life rather than by other literature. The
originality of the subj ect matter in Anna Karenina is
attested by the fact that it has been called the first
novel dealing with marriage. Previous novels allegedly
330
dealing with marriage are really about love.
✓
Emile Zola, on the other hand, would have had great
difficulty remaining aloof from artists and the works of
art of his day. Boyhood friend of Paul Cezanne, personal
acquaintance of Monet, Manet, Flaubert, the Goncourt
Brothers, Henry James, Huysmans, and Turgenev, Zola's per
sonal experience was one of immediate association with con
temporary art and artists. As a founder of naturalism he
tried to go beyond the literary influence around him. It
is for his role as spokesman of naturalism that he is most
remembered. This is particularly strange as subsequent
research has Indicated that Zola realized his so-called
naturalistic theories were a hoax. Germinal is a novel in
which the subject matter of realism is handled in an ex
tremely romantic way. The result is a book of intense
emotional power. Zola claimed that his novels were
attempts to set up experimental situations whereby the
behavior of his characters could be observed with clinical
fastidiousness. From these observations, he claimed, new
laws of human behavior could be discovered. Students will
be confused if they turn to Zola’s work with the precon
ceived notion that he was sincere in these claims. This
331
confusion makes it more difficult to see the real artistic
qualities in his novels. Though he carried his subject
matter beyond realism, it must be recognized that he is
also a romantic novelist with a flair for potent symbolism
and a craftsman capable of intense and sustained emotional
force. If his readers took this initial view of him, he
would be better understood and appreciated. Zola, who
rubbed elbows with a great many artists, is almost liter
ally "lost in the crowd" of nineteenth century French men
of letters. He does not stand out above his peers like a
Twain or a Tolstoy. Perhaps this is partly because he
allowed himself to be influenced by so many others.
Tolstoy’s admonition that artists must do more than
merely imitate real life was probably occasioned by an
aversion for the works of Balzac and his successors.
Neither Tolstoy, Zola, nor Twain was guilty of this pitfall
to genuine art. It is interesting to note, however, that
each writer--whether he was producing genuine art, as in
Levin’s marriage proposal to Kitty, or counterfeit art, as
in the terrifying scenes where Catherine and Etienne were
trapped in the mine--was a conscious technician. Tolstoy
carefully described details and movements designed to evoke
332
certain emotions in the reader just as did Zola. The fact
that Tolstoy had experienced the emotions that he sought
to convey while Zola was dealing with vicarious experience
does not make Tolstoy's labors a more natural activity than
Zola's.
This leads one to question a part of Tolstoy's basic
definition of art--that it is a natural human activity.
In drawing the character of Levin, Tolstoy drew from per
sonal experience for his subject matter. He selected his
material, arranged it, and presented it, not as it actually
happened but, rather, in such a way as to reproduce emo
tions he had felt. He was constrained by his method to a
much greater degree than Zola who drew his material from
the wide scope of his research, then arranged it in such
a manner that it would produce the strongest, most poignant
emotional response possible. Mark Twain, on the other
hand, was definitely freer in this approach than Tolstoy.
Twain usually started with a personal experience. He
allowed his imagination great freedom to range. His final
result was an episode that evoked the simple, but basically
infectious response of laughter, or in his more serious
scenes, a complete absence of emotional response. It would
333
appear that Twain's method of creation was the most natural
of the three writers. Tolstoy’s method, because of its
extreme subjectivity, was the most difficult. It may be
that Tolstoy's method was natural for him, but it would
certainly have been unnatural for Twain or Zola. Even
Tolstoy was unable to use this method with all of the
characters in his epic novel. For this reason the charac
ter of Levin is really a greater artistic accomplishment
than that of Anna. Vronsky, for the same reason, is one of
Tolstoy's few failures. When Tolstoy developed his basic
definition of art, he described an activity with which he
had, in part, been successful. The story of Anna illus
trates that he was not able himself to stay completely
within this definition of art. The task for any other
writer would appear impossible.
When a writer incorporates sensational or striking
events into a novel, the reader's attention focuses not on
the characters but on what happens to them. In Anna
Karenina there are very few highly dramatic scenes. Most
of the episodes revolve around everyday affairs. The emo
tions conveyed by these scenes from everyday life are often
those that the reader has, in some degree, experienced
334
himself. When he follows with empathy the aspirations
and frustrations of a hundred little episodes involving
Constantin Levin, a communion of feeling occurs. His
acquaintance with Levin, as with other characters in the
novel, deepens and becomes richer.
Zola's techniques were much the same as Tolstoy's.
With great economy and utility he could present a life-like
character. By incorporating material, sensational, and
sensual elements, he was able to present a scene that would
stir his readers deeply. It is no secret that his plan was
to compound the emotional effect of these individual scenes
in order to create a book of unusual power. He achieved
this intense emotional strength at the cost of genuine
character development. While he was able to create life
like characters with a touch of his pen, his focus on the
sensual and sensational precluded any concentration on his
protagonists. Etienne and Catherine, for instance,
actually seem less real, less credible, at the end of the
book than at the beginning. This may be, in part, because
Zola is showing how poor environmental conditions cause a
deterioration in the integrity of individuals. Yet as
Catherine sinks to degradation, her image fades before
335
the reader's eyes. At the end of the novel she bears
little resemblance to the wistful girl that stirred the
reader's heart, as well as Etienne's, in the first hundred
pages of the novel.
Mark Twain avoided sensationalism for its own sake in
Huck Finn. Most of the episodes in the novel are grounded
on personal experience. Twain's unquestionably colorful
imagination reshaped his material so that the finished
episode in the novel usually bore little resemblance to the
original incident. In his notebook, however, he observes
that the mechanical device of starting with the truth kept
his imagination from wandering too far.
In Huck Finn as in Germinal, character development
seems closely related to the author's use of sensational
and striking events. Twain drew his character, Huck, true
to a model, his boyhood acquaintance, Tom Blankenship.
While Huck's perception of events and his unusual and
humorous perspective were undoubtedly reflections of his
creator's mind, Huck's actions and his values, such as an
earnest desire for freedom, are undoubtedly equally faith
ful reproductions of Tom Blankenship. This fidelity to
character portrayal made it necessary for Twain to narrate
336
ordinary and credible stories when he penned the adventures
of the two boys, Tom and Huck. In a few sections, espe
cially in the conclusion, Twain is carried away by his
attempt at infectious humor. Only then do his character
portrayals break down.
Some of the episodes Huck witnessed ashore are much
more sensational. The Shepherdson-Grangerford feud is
probably the most striking of these. It is typical of the
others in that no emotion is evoked by the scene. The
reader is left with a very vivid picture to think about.
Twain has been very careful not to allow his readers to
become emotionally involved in the tragedy. It would
appear that in these episodes he wanted his readers to
think and reflect rather than feel.
This contrast of the three novelists has revealed a
strange pattern. Avoiding sensationalism, Tolstoy presents
his characters in common, everyday joys and trials, situ
ations and feelings which the reader has experienced him
self. The infectious feelings emanating from these scenes
establish a bond between character and reader. Zola
sacrifices any depth of character by incorporating sensa
tional and striking events into many scenes. The intense
337
emotional effect of these scenes grips the reader. The
compilation of shocking experience upon shocking experience
results in an emotional climax of tremendous magnitude.
Twain varies his pattern more than the other two writers.
Fidelity to character development and to a basis of per
sonal experience for the origins of his individual episodes
helps him to avoid too sensational flights into fantasy.
His realistic portrayals of Colonel Sherbum and the
Grangerfords are unique in that he renders sensational
material in an extremely objective and unemotional manner.
The characters seem to lack the warmth of human beings.
Thus, their trials and deaths afford the reader no emo
tional involvement. On the other hand, in scenes involving
the boys and Nigger Jim, Twain loses his constrained
artistic control. He is sometimes carried away by his
attempt at humor. For this he must pay a price. His
characters lose their dignity and integrity. The result
is the most general and most easily attainable of infec
tious feelings--laughter. The bond of common feelings
shifts. The reader laughs with the author and at. Tom,
Huck, Jim, and Aunt Sally. Twain felt the laughter was
worth the price. The sustained popularity of Huck Finn
338
will support those who contend he was right.
In examining each novel to determine whether interest
ing material has been used as a substitute for genuine art,
certain liberties must be taken with Tolstoy*s definition
of art. Otherwise, the entire story of Anna in Anna
Karenina. all of Germinal, and large segments of Huck Finn
would be excluded as counterfeit. The difference in the
purposes of the three authors has been considered pre
viously. Granting each the premise that what he set out
to do is art, there is little in any of the three novels
that does not augment its creator*s purposes.
Anna Karenina is an extremely long novel considering
the amount of action in the book. Its purpose--to explore
the multitude of problems that arise naturally in the lives
of two people--makes this length necessary. Symbolism is
used occasionally. Its purpose seems confined to clarify
ing the delineation of character. As such, it should not
be considered counterfeit art.
Germinal was composed after months of intense research.
All the information at Zola*s fingertips--notes on mining
and on the miners* living conditions; newspaper accounts
of personal tragedies; books, journals, and newspapers
339
dealing with economics, labor issues, and socialism--were
handled in such a way that their inclusion augmented the
intense emotional reactions of shock and revulsion at the
treatment and exploitation of the miners and their families.
To Zola's credit as an artist it must be said that he used
nothing that was not effective.
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is, as the title
suggests, episodic. Yet, because the art of Twain's work
is to be found in the individual scene rather than in the
total work, it would be misleading to say, as some critics
do, that the effect of the book is ruined by such scenes
as the long, rambling, humorous conclusion. The novel
should not on this score be condemned as counterfeit art.
Genuine Art
To Tolstoy the purpose of literature was to provide
the reader with the same worthwhile emotions which were
experienced by the writer. Apart from considering the
quality of these feelings, the intensity of their infec
tiousness was the measure of the excellence of literature
or art. Tolstoy states that the degree of infectiousness
depends upon three conditions: (1) on the individuality of
the feeling conveyed, (2) on the clearness with which
340
the feeling is transmitted, and (3) on the sincerity of
the artist. These three conditions will be considered
separately in subsequent sections.
Individuality. When Tolstoy pointed to individuality
as a quality of genuine art, he was primarily concerned
with individuality of feeling. A painter might study a
vase until it seemed to him different from any other vase
in the world. Then he would feel ready to put it upon
canvas. Tolstoy approached this problem from the emo
tional aspect rather than the visual. After the painter
had studied the vase until he felt he saw in it something
more than he had seen in any other vase, Tolstoy would ask
the painter not to reproduce the vase, but to reproduce the
feeling he experienced when at last he felt the vase was
different from any other he had seen. This is not the
place to argue whether the two activities are or are not
the same thing. The point is that with Tolstoy the empha
sis is on the emotion.
When the reader follows Tolstoy^ account of how
Levin, numb with disbelief and joy, walked the streets all
night after Kitty had accepted his proposal, he shares
Levin1s feelings with him. Here is a specific account
341
of a man with whom the reader Is already well acquainted
who, after earlier failure, has met with success in the
most important venture that had absorbed his life and
dreams. Whether or not Tolstoy walked the streets all
night after Sophia Alexandrovna had accepted his proposal
is beside the question. It is pertinent that a specific
and precise feeling is conveyed to the reader by the work
of art. The only real test of greater or lesser individu
ality which can be imposed on this or any other episode
described by Tolstoy is subjective. Tolstoy said that the
greater the degree of individuality, the greater the in
fectiousness. Conversely, judgment as to the degree of
individuality must depend upon the intensity of infectious -
ness.
The analysis of the calving scene in Chapter II of
the present work sheds light on a technical aspect of
Tolstoy's ability to individualize emotion. This is
singleness of purpose. Every action and every phase of
description--even the allusion to the warm smell of cow
dung--is presented in a frame of reference which con
tributes to the feelings of warmth and joy over the event.
Isolation of a single feeling presented with carefully
342
concentrated effort is a key to Tolstoy's individuality.
Individuality of emotion is the keynote of Zola's
effectiveness. A man reading a newspaper account of a
mining disaster would not be likely to feel any appreciable
difference if he read that twenty or two hundred people
were killed. The details of the story condition the shock.
The numbers have little effect. It is really beyond the
capacity of human beings to feel the numerical significance.
Well aware of this, Zola works with fourteen or fifteen
different tragedies, mindful that his total emotional
effect will be much greater than if he were to describe
just one incident in which large numbers were involved.
Thus, the rape of Catherine, the insanity of Bonnemort, the
death of Cecile, and the corruption of Jeanlin are just a
few of the forces that contribute to the book's emotive
power. As Zola individualizes feeling through the trage
dies of different people, he goes one step further. His
characters become symbols of whole groups of people who
have met the same fate. To the imnediate reader these
characters seem real people, and their tragedies draw
genuine pity and indignation. But to one reflecting on the
book, they appear more as symbols denoting widespread
343
rather than specific tragedies. Symbolism is used here to
add significance to the tragedies depicted in the book,
and, consequently, does not muffle their emotional force.
It does not obscure the issues in the manner Tolstoy indi
cated when he labelled symbolism a method of counterfeit
art.
Mark Twain did not individualize emotions to any great
degree. The infectious quality of his scenes was their
humor. This is a general rather than specific response,
and apparently, it was what he was striving for in the
majority of his episodes. Twain's realistic portrayals of
pre-Civil War society, such as the Grangerfords and Colonel
Sherbum, were rendered unemotionally. The incidents nar
rated were examples of tragedy, but the best and worst in
man seemed revealed simultaneously in these scenes. The
protagonists seem impersonal--acquaintances of Huck who
never become intimate with the reader. Hence, he can
attend but cannot feel their tragedies.
A literary scene must be built of its component parts.
When Twain was working at either humor or tragedy, it is
certain that he individualized his material in order to
present a distinct and memorable scene. It was the emotion
344
evoked by the scene that Twain was careful not to indi
vidualize. It is in this one respect that his art fails to
coincide with Tolstoy’s definition.
This is ironic because the word "individuality” could
be applied to Twain’s work in so many ways. His breadth
of subject matter, his unique ability to see things in an
unusual perspective, and his practice of drawing his heroes
from the common mass, an innovation in the literature of
his time, distinguish him as a unique writer. Uniqueness
or individuality is certainly reflected in his principal
character, too. Huck’s own manner of expression, his
childlike, but startlingly clear moral judgments, his
alacrity of mind, his tenderness for his fellow men, espe
cially in view of the way life has treated him, all stamp
him with an individuality remarkable in the annals of
literature. It is impossible to equate Tolstoy’s indi
viduality of emotion with the individuality manifested in
Twain's personality and his principal character. It would
not be fair to state that Twain's novel lacked individu
ality.
There were certain elements in Zola's psychological
makeup which indicate that he was unusually sensitive to
345
his environment. These elements also suggest that he was
better equipped than most men to individualize his feelings
in his art. He was extremely sensitive to external influ
ences. This is particularly true of his sense of smell.
Also, as a small boy he was once terrified when lost in a
group of people. Since that time, Zola once admitted, he
had an unreasonable fear of crowds. This undoubtedly con
ditioned his descriptions of the mob scene in Germinal.
Armand Lanoux and other writers have suggested that there
was something in Zola’s psychological makeup, perhaps
sexual experience or a lack of genuine love, that occa
sioned the extreme lubricity in his novels. When he
entered into a personal love affair with Jeanne Roseret,
the lubricity disappeared from his literary works. Finally,
the scope of his literary undertakings and his conduct
during the Dreyfus case illustrate his inroense courage and
will power. All of these personal characteristics suggest
that he was uniquely qualified to compose a novel of the
nature of Germinal.
Clarity. When Tolstoy spoke of clarity as a quality
of genuine art, he was concerned with the clarity with
which the reader felt the emotion. If he clearly felt
346
the emotion the author intended to convey, the mission of
clarity was accomplished. Understanding of subject matter
and perception of emotion are two very different things.
While Tolstoy was primarily concerned with the latter, he
would undoubtedly say that both are vital to the appreci
ation of genuine art. Mark Twain, on the other hand, might
not distinguish between the two; it is, therefore, neces
sary to consider them separately.
The question to be considered first is whether the
author’s subject matter can be readily and universally
understood.
The narrative of Anna Karenina is simple enough to
understand. Tolstoy presents the stories of Anna and Levin
through concrete and vivid scenes. He deals with the scene
omnisciently and is very thorough in telling the reader
exactly what each character thinks or feels. By use of
irony he ridicules sophisticated society because its ways
contradict clear and simple reason. While his observation
may reflect his own acute sensitivity, his meaning is never
vague because he renders his irony in didactic form. One
example of this is his introduction of Princess Myaky.
Tolstoy tells us that she always said conmonplace things
347
with some sense to them because she found, without knowing
why, that the sophisticated society around her took her
words as examples of wit. Here within his narrative
Tolstoy ridicules those who cannot understand the simple
and direct.
Zola obviously and consciously wrote Germinal for
popular consumption. A great deal of fanfare and publicity
centered around his tour of the Anzin mines. His subject--
the miners and their working and living conditions--was not
selected merely because it dealt with the common people,
but because it had caught the imagination of the whole
country. To cater further to the general public Zola wrote
his novel in what he considered the colloquial language of
his characters. Not just the dialogue, but the narrative
and descriptive passages as well were rendered in this
manner. Each scene in the novel was presented simply and
forcefully. His use of symbolism and striking events, as
has been previously noted, led to greater clarity through
calculated emphasis. Zola was concerned with his own
popularity and his purse. He was careful to write a book
that was easy to understand.
Mark Twain also aimed at clarity. His subject matter
was derived from childhood reminiscences or from Western
348
campfire yams whose popularity had been tested. His
dialogue technique, evolved from the burlesque patterns
used in frontier journalism, was utilized because it pro
vided a natural means with which to relate a good story
while sustaining suspense and interest. His method of
writing indicates he spent a great deal of time reshaping
his material to give it greater coherence. To paraphrase
his own words: "There is only one right form for a story.
The author must find it; or the story simply will not tell
itself."
In What is Art? Tolstoy briefly passed over the
subject of clarity as a quality of genuine art without
illustrating how it affected art. The difficulty of illus
trating the greater or lesser degrees of clarity with which
an emotion is conveyed probably prompted this omission.
In a novel such as Anna Karenina perhaps a pragmatic
test is the only means of making a judgment. Tolstoy cer
tainly rendered his scenes simply and effectively. The
reader does share the feelings of the characters involved.
The emotions are of such a nature that the reader does feel
a communion of mutual experience with the character, espe
cially in the case of Levin. The multitude of these minor
349
communions of feeling establish a deeper bond between
protagonist and reader. All of this is achieved effec
tively. Consequently, Tolstoy must have rendered his
scenes with a high degree of clarity of emotion.
It is easier to pass judgment on Germinal with respect
to the clarity with which emotion is conveyed. The reader
is well aware that he has experienced intense emotional
involvement while reading the book. He has reacted to the
book. Whether or not he has felt the same emotions Zola
felt is another question. It is true, for instance, that
Zola had an unreasonable fear of crowds. Perhaps this
terror is conveyed to the reader through the mob scenes in
Germinal. This is, however, unlikely. The reader may be
shocked by the scenes, but he is captivated by fascination
rather than repulsed by terror. In the scene where the
workers destroy the mine there is a mixture of several
emotions: a sense of inevitability--a pending explosion
finally occurring, a feeling of shock, a fascination with
the way individuals lose their personalities in the sweep
of mob action, and a feeling of indignation satisfied as
the miners strike back after repeated humiliations. Because
Zola has individualized emotional elements with such force
350
and clarity earlier in the book, this scene of the mob in
action combines emotional strength and complexity with
good effect.
In Huckleberry Finn the feeling transmitted to the
reader is most frequently that occasioned by humor. Mark
Twain was well aware that a response to humor is harder to
start than to intensify. It is necessary that the reader
be given a clue in order that he will know he should con
sider what is coming next in a humorous manner. Two
devices Twain used to reveal this clue are the dialogue
technique developed from his Mr. Twain-Mr. Brown journal
istic labors for frontier newspapers and the technique of
presenting commonplace things in an unusual frame of refer
ence. These devices are strongly reminiscent of minstrel
show routines popular through Twain's lifetime. They
helped Twain establish rapport with his readers and put
them in a humorous frame of mind.
On the other hand, there is no clarity of emotion in
the Grangerford-Shepherdson episode. It has already been
suggested that this is because the characters never become
real persons even though their tragedies are complete.
Edward Wasiolek suggests that the Grangerfords are people
351
whose real identities have been lost in the adult society
where role playing has become the full-time game of grown
ups. The Grangerfords conceive of themselves as images of
their forebears. Playing their roles as such, they con
tinue a feud without knowing the reason for it. Refusing
to be themselves, they play their roles to the tragic end.
When Twain renders this episode so unemotionally, perhaps
he is suggesting that the Grangerfords were never them
selves, never flesh and blood human beings. They only ful
filled their images of themselves. If Wasiolek is right
in his analysis, these sections are not art according to
Tolstoy’s definition but interesting material used to
dilute art. It is the opinion of this reviewer that
Twain’s object was not this complex. He was an artist who
drew a picture in depth. The picture was of such a nature
that Wasiolek*s observations might be rendered from it.
Sincerity. Tolstoy measured the sincerity of the
artist by the degree he feels the emotion he intends to
convey. If the artist is sincere, his enthusiasm will
enable him to individualize the feeling and render it
clearly. This enthusiasm in the writer will be recognized
352
by the reader and will stimulate him to share the author's
feeling.
A perusal of Anna Karenina will show that Tolstoy
harbored the same conviction about the sincerity of the
artist when he wrote the novel as he did forty years later
when he published What is Art? In one scene he conveys his
own feeling of contempt for those who approach art through
imitation. Vronsky and Anna visit the great artist,
Mihailov. Mihailov ignores their polite questions con
cerning technical aspects of this work and while they study
his painting of Christ before Pilate, he notes quietly to
himself that their study and training in the history and
tradition of art leave them incapable of understanding the
feeling his art expresses.
Tolstoy has clearly transmitted to the reader his con
tempt for dilettantism in art. Yet one who looks at the
scene objectively will see that the situation is contrived.
It is too obvious that Tolstoy has set up two clay idols
in Vronsky and Anna, then proceeded to mock them. His
goal is to convey the emotion he sincerely feels, that is,
a disgust for insincerity. Because his means may not be
too honest, he appears treacherously close to committing
the sin he condemns. That is not the point. To the artist
it is the sincerity of the feeling he expresses that
counts.
Zola arranged his material to evoke the feelings of
his reader. His purpose was not to convey emotions he had
felt. Rather, he asserted, his goal was to present the
truth in such a way that it would be vibrant and meaning
ful. In the case of Germinal, the truth was the terrible
toll the mine exacted on all associated with it in terms
of human suffering and destruction of human personality.
These evils extended not only to the miners, but to the
owners, managers, and stockholders as well. Germinal is a
concentrated dramatization of all of the evils associated
with the mine. Zola dated his story during the Second
Empire when the conditions of the miners were even worse
than at the time Germinal was published. It would be un
fair to Zola to say that there was no truth in his charac
terization. It would be equally unfair to the responsible
citizens of the Third Republic to say that the picture
presented by Germinal epitomized the mining conditions in
France at that time. Perhaps it would be better to say
that Zola strove to show a truth of life, not the truth
354
of life in his novel.
Zola undoubtedly realized that he oversimplified his
message in writing Germinal. If this is so, his sincerity
is to be questioned. Overemotionalism, inexactness, and
oversimplification are qualities of his work just as was
his singleness of mind. If Tolstoy had been moved to
handle the subject considered in Germinal. the results
would have been far different. This offers us a clue to
Zola’s sincerity. As a creative artist he exhibits unusual
abilities and unusual shortcomings. Aware of these quali
ties himself, he dealt with the miners and their living
conditions in the only manner that he, Zola, could do so
effectively. No one who considers the subject would say
that Zola did not adhere to the dictates of his own heavy-
handed, creative genius.
Mark Twain, too, was controlled by the dictates of his
own unique genius. Gladys Bellamy documents an episode in
his life that offers insight into his creativity. When
driven nearly to distraction by the deaths of his father-
in-law and a close friend, and by the grave illness of his
wife, he was suddenly possessed with bursts of creative
humor. It was at this time that he composed the burlesque
355
sketch, "The Map of Paris." Humor was for him a natural
form of release and a natural form of self-expression even
in sorrow.
In the Autobiography Twain stated that he had always
preached, that his humor was only a secondary product, and
that if he had been unable to create humor, he still would
have preached. This was, he said, the reason his popu
larity had lasted twenty years.
The word "preaching" usually implies two things: in
struction in conduct and emotional exhortation to follow
good counsel. Huck Finn allows his friendship for Jim and
his instinctive feeling that the colored man is a real
human being to sway him. He renounces his previous resolu
tion to return Jim to his owners and abides by this deci
sion even though convinced that he will suffer Hellfire
for it. This picture of Huck's struggle with his con
science evokes a response in the reader--a feeling of the
common bond that exists in all men. According to the
Tolstoy theory, this particular scene is genuine art.
Part of the effectiveness of this scene, and others in
the novel, is the result of Twain’s fidelity to character
portrayal. Huck is a true picture of his model, Tom
Blankenship. Twain's sincerity is reflected in the
356
development of his other characters as well. They are not
all as genuine and well-rounded portrayals as Huck and Jim;
yet they are consistent with the roles Twain has conceived
for them. The King and the Duke, as well as the Granger
fords, act according to the laws of their natures. The
reader is left with the impression that they can never act
otherwise.
This leads to another aspect of an artist's sincerity.
The sincerity of the writer to his purpose has been con
sidered. Is the writer's conformity to the logical develop
ment of his material a form of sincerity? All three of the
novelists studied in this paper have shown this propensity.
In his personal correspondence, Tolstoy admitted that he
was surprised when Vronsky attempted to commit suicide.
Everything in the development of the novel moved in that
direction, and the scene forced itself on the author.
Similarly, Tolstoy's conclusion to The Kreutzer Sonata was
as much an initial shock to him as it was, subsequently,
to his readers. Zola, in explaining his procedure for
writing a novel, said that he lacked the imagination to
construct events. He would set his characters and their
circumstances and let these determine the course of action
357
the novel would take. Twain also stated several times that
he could not create plots of his own. He sought to put
his material into the proper form so that the story would
tell itself. In all three instances, the sincerity and
integrity of the artist is illustrated by his willingness
to conform to the requirements of his material.
Art for All Men
To Tolstoy art was a natural process for man. It was
the activity whereby one man relayed his feelings or emo
tions to others. Just as speaking was a natural form of
relaying or communicating ideas, art was the natural means
for transferring emotion. This transferral of feeling must
be emphasized. It was not enough that the artist made his
fellow men aware of what he had felt. He must make them
feel the very thing he had felt. Intellectualization is
not part of this process, and Tolstoy did not consider that
any disparity of natural intelligence or of intellectual
training should interfere with the normal course of this
transferral of feeling.
Because art is a natural form of expression for men it
is for the benefit of all men, not just a highly-trained
358
few. It follows logically to Tolstoy that if art is to be
shared by all men alike, it must satisfy two requirements:
First, art must be in a form comprehensible to all men.
Second, its subject matter must be such that it evokes the
emotions of all men. It must be vital. To Tolstoy these
are not requirements which the artist must consciously seek
to fulfill. Rather they are intrinsic in the nature of
genuine art. The problem is not one of toning down the
intellectualization of the artist or of simplifying the
presentation. Genuine art will, of its own nature, be such
that it conveys feeling to all men, philosopher and clown
alike.
The nature of Tolstoy's definition of art must be kept
fixedly in mind when one asks if Anna Karenina. Germinal.
and Huck Finn are really art for all men. There is a dis
tinct danger of confusing a work of literature dealing
broadly and impressively about all mankind with a work for
all mankind. This is apparent, for instance, in Anna
Karenina. Tolstoy had a great range of sensibility and
comprehension of human nature. He was, for instance, able
to create two such diverse characterizations as Stiva
Oblonsky and Constantin Levin. His vivid contrast of these
359
two personalities as they share each other's company and
hunt together is striking. Oblonsky's life is so com
pletely centered around personal gratification and Levin's
around a search for purpose that there is no real meeting
place where the two can share either ideas or feelings.
Yet, the two continue their friendship, and the reader
feels, as Tolstoy intends he should, that he can not dis
like either of them. A student of literature, sociology,
or psychology will readily admire this scene for its
genuine revelation of the nature of man and the nature of
life. While the contrast of the two very different worlds
in which the two men exist illustrates a basic truth about
human nature, it takes a very mature or a very highly-
trained mind to perceive the complexity and the effective
ness of the contrast. All of this would be lost on the
average man who reads this scene in Anna Karenina.
In the same way Tolstoy introduces a multitude of
characters in Anna Karenina. He presents St. Petersburg
society, officers in the Czarist army, and common laborers
working the fields. This represents a fairly broad pano
rama of life in nineteenth century Russia, but it has mean*
ing only to the reader who imagines himself well-enough
360
informed to recognize valid aspects of the picture of life
in Russia as presented in the course of the novel.
Tolstoy's comprehensiveness and his insights into human
nature are certainly an integral part of the greatness of
his art. Yet by Tolstoy's own definition this is not art--
just interesting material which dilutes genuine art.
This approach to Anna Karenina is not completely nega
tive. On the contrary it points up the fact that there are
scenes where intellectualization plays no part--scenes
where a genuine transferral of emotion creates a wonderful
and overwhelming emotion. The thrill that seizes Levin
when Kitty accepts his proposal intensely infects the
reader. The interview where the young couple receive a
blessing from Kitty’s father is similarly infectious. Our
analysis of the scene where Levin's prize cow calves illus
trates that Tolstoy's technical skill, as well as his
selection of subject matter, conveys infectious emotion.
These sections of Anna Karenina are genuine art according
to Tolstoy's definition, and they are, as he claims all
genuine art is, for all men.
Those scenes that evoke emotion in Anna Karenina are
the examples of genuine art in the book. In Germinal
361
almost every scene tugs at the feelings of the reader. In
fact it has been said that the reader lives the pages of
Anna Karenina but feels the episodes of Germinal. These
highly provocative scenes in Germinal are not, however,
genuine art, and perhaps the reason they are not is that
the writer has not lived them and the reader does not.
Zola was not as concerned with re-creating emotions he had
felt as with producing deep emotional effect. To the
extent that he depicted the miners and their environment
with truthfulness, his work approached Tolstoy's definition
of art. His subject matter was basic, the problems of im
poverished workers struggling for survival in the face of
tremendous obstacles. This type of subject matter is vital
and readily concerns all men. Zola's rendering of his
subject produces something short of Tolstoy's definition of
genuine art. Germinal has not remained a popular classic,
and it could very well be for this reason.
It is easy to confuse the topics of "art for all men"
and "art about all men" in Anna Karenina. This is true,
too, with Germinal. Zola conceived this novel as a part of
his ambitious plan in the Rougon Hacquart series to portray
every aspect of the Second French Republic. With his
362
technique of individualizing characters he sought to por
tray every aspect of the life of the time, tracing a family
which originated with the people, promoted themselves into
the cultivated classes, and finally rose to some of the
highest positions in the state. The scope of the Rougon
Macouart series is not obvious in the single book, Germinal.
Yet the miners are pictured as victims of economic pres
sures, lack of education, poor health, and inadequate
nutrition. This is enough to support the comprehensiveness
with which Zola unveils the sociological problems of this
portion of the Second French Republic.
Germinal might be called a sociological documentary.
The problems and pressures of the miners are presented in
very powerful dramatic form--so powerful, indeed, that the
reader is left more with a memory of the trials of the
characters than of the characters themselves. This is more
indicative of social than literary value. It is far from
what Tolstoy conceived art should be. The reader remembers
the characters in Anna Karenina. Because he is interested
in them, he is concerned with their problems. The emphasis
of Tolstoy’s definition of art is upon the re-creation of
emotions the author has felt. This tie-in with real
363
experience places a creative burden upon the writer. His
characters must be genuine. The reader must feel a rapport
with them. Otherwise the subtle joys and disappointments
of normal, everyday experiences will not leave their im
pressions. This was not Zola's way. The trials of the
miners were individualized--not for the miners' sake, but
merely to heighten the emotional response of the reader.
The separate emotional responses are compounded to produce
the culminating effect of the explosive mob riots. In
summary, Anna Karenina presents people and their feelings.
Germinal, with almost expressionistic technique, presents
the problems and terrors of the miners compounded in night
mare fashion t*> the degree that the characters are unreal.
Even with Huck Finn the concept of literature for all
men may easily be confused with that of literature portray
ing mankind in scope and depth. Literary critics have
proclaimed the novel an odyssey presenting every aspect of
society in the pre-Civil War South. Old Pap, the King
and the Duke, the Grangerfords, and Colonel Sherbum are
characters that reflect the "types" of society existing in
the Old South.
Unlike Zola, Twain presented his characterizations of
society dispassionately. Even an episode as violent as
364
the massacre of the Grangerford clan elicits very little
emotion from Twain's reader. Huck witnesses and relates
the nightmare. He feels the brunt of the horror, but
relates the story bravely and impersonally. The reader is
left to judge the Grangerfords unemotionally. And his
judgment is likely to be that they were actors playing the
role of their forebears and dying tragically because they
refused to distinguish between role-playing and reality
when the resolution of their tragedies became imminent.
Twain's novel, as well as his Autobiography, records
his concern for the personal worth of all human beings.
The theme of Huck Finn substantiates this. His famous
Chinese Letters also reflects the fervor with which he
defended minority groups when they were subjected to perse
cution. This concern on the part of Twain for the man
regardless of his race is reflected in the development of
the characters in Huck Finn. Nigger Jim is portrayed with
physical strength, human gentleness, and nobility of soul.
His willingness to accept certain recapture and possibly
death in order to get the snake-bitten boy to a doctor is
but one of the many evidences of his nobility and gentle
ness. Similarly, Huck rises to full dimensions as a flesh
365
and blood character In his willingness to sacrifice himself
for Jim.
It is worthwhile to note that Tolstoy, Zola, and Twain
were, as men, great humanitarians. The warmth with which
Tolstoy and Twain were able to sense the feelings of their
fellow men enabled them to create exceptional literary
characters. Zola was able to do this in his initial pres
entation of 6tienne and Catherine in Germinal, but he was
unable to maintain this feeling of warmth of character
throughout the book.
Huck and Jim, two heroes drawn from the common mass,
are in spite of their poverty and illiteracy two generous
human beings. Their love for one another, their readiness
to see the best and ignore the worst in such men as the
King and the Duke, endows them with the most human of
qualities. The reader feels a kinship of conmon experience
with the boy and the slave. This sense of familiarity is
with the experience rather than with the feeling drawn from
the experience as is the case in certain parts of Anna
Karenina.
As indicated before, Twain concerned himself with only
one type of infectious emotion in the individual scene--
366
the emotion aroused by humor. The ability to communicate
laughter from one man to another is perhaps the simplest
and most natural way for one man to share his feelings with
another on an equal basis.
It is apparent that all three novels offer a wealth of
material on human nature. From a sophisticated point of
view much can be seen in each novel which reveals the scope
and variations of human characters and feelings. The mere
count of editions published indicates that a great many
readers are attracted by each novel. More important to
Tolstoy, however, would be the fact that a great work of
literature must deal with issues vital to the common man
and must communicate feelings of a wholesome nature which,
when shared by men, remind them of their mutual heritage.
It has been shown that Anna Karenina and, to an even
greater degree, Huck Finn, do this.
The Meaning or Purpose of the Novel
To Tolstoy art was a purposeful human activity. He
felt it should contribute substantially to the human race.
In What is Art? he drew an allegory between language and
art by saying that language is the natural way for human
367
beings to communicate ideas and art is the natural way for
them to communicate feelings. It would follow, then, that
if what we call art are those works which convey feelings
of an elevating nature, we must give the name of language
only to those word patterns which convey ideas of the
highest value. The error in this line of thinking is
obvious. Yet both language and art can be made to serve
man, and few will deny that in both forms of expression
that which serves man more effectively is worthier of con
sideration than that which merely satisfied frivolous ends.
This same observation can be applied generally to
Tolstoy’s aesthetic theories in What is Art? His insist
ence that only the creative activity which fits his defini
tion of art can be considered art is relatively indefensi
ble. On the other hand, serious thinkers are hesitant to
assert that art which conforms to his standards is not the
highest caliber of creative activity. The results of this
study will perhaps refinforce this hesitancy.
In amplifying what he meant by moral purpose the
elderly Tolstoy (considered at the time to be a religious
extremist) stated that genuine art should convey the
deepest religious perceptions of the time. These percep
tions would differ, of course, with the centuries and the
368
religious insight of the particular culture. Tolstoy felt
that to a nineteenth century European the deepest religious
perceptions of the time embodied the individual's awareness
of the Fatherhood of God, and consequently, the brotherhood
of man. On the most immediate level, then, the purpose of
art is to make man aware that he and all other men are
brothers.
A novel or other work of art may achieve the worthy
purpose of uniting men in brotherhood by a second means.
This method is to portray scenes and events which evoke
emotions of a universal nature. "Universal" here Is meant
to describe emotions which affect all human beings simi
larly. Experiencing the feelings which are shared by all
human beings alike reminds the reader that others feel as
he does. Kindred feelings remind one of his kinship with
all other human beings.
When Tolstoy talks of a work of art having moral pur
pose, he considers that this purpose must primarily be
rendered by the feelings evoked by the work of art. This
is particularly obvious when he talks of the second method
of uniting men--by conveying feelings of a universal nature.
The primary purpose of art--to convey the deepest religious
369
insights of the time— implies, however, intellectualization
as well as emotional feeling. This implication is probably
untrue. At the time that Tolstoy wrote What is Art? he
was such a zealous, if unorthodox, Christian that the
suggestion of a religious scene probably evoked responses
in him that would pass unnoticed by a less devout man.
Because there is a possibility that intellectualization
may necessarily be a factor in conveying the deepest reli
gious perception of the time, and because the standard
method of searching for meaning in a novel is to search for
a theme, it would be prudent to examine Anna Karenina.
Germinal, and Huck Finn for dominant literary themes.
All three novelists have shown delight in making con
fusing or vague statements about the meaning of their work.
In What is Art? Tolstoy denounced most the works of
his youth, including Anna Karenina, as counterfeit art.
This pronouncement, of course, casts a shadow over the
attempt of this paper to show that Anna Karenina has a
theme or purpose. Furthermore, Tolstoy, when queried on
the significance of his novel, stated that such a thing
cannot be reduced to a few words, but can only be expressed
by writing another novel--and that novel would be the same
370
as the original. This implies that the novel has meaning,
but that it is impossible to explain. In addition, Tolstoy
prefaced his novel with the words: "Vengeance is Mine,
saith the Lord." A motto of this nature certainly implies
a theme. Finally, Aylmer Maude, a personal friend of
Tolstoy, reports that the author has said that Anna
Karenina was written solely to amuse. While Maude duti
fully reports this and reasons that we must believe Tolstoy,
the nature of the Russian master’s character, the com
plexity and depth of the novel, and the nature of the prin
cipal characters, Anna and Levin, make Maude, as well as
all other readers, hesitant to dismiss such a novel as Anna
Karenina with the idea that it was written merely to enter
tain.
Emile Zola was very explicit in asserting that his
novels had a purpose. Yet his assertions on this score
resulted in more confusion than Tolstoy’s. In The Experi
mental Novel, he set forth his so-called scientific method
for producing a novel. His procedure was to set his
characters in certain social and psychological situations,
then with clinical fastidiousness to observe their actions.
He asserted that by this method of observation, naturalistic
371
authors would actually discover new laws of human behavior
which would be of benefit to all mankind. Zola was aware
that his claims were untrue. Yet he benefited financially
from the controversy that developed over his theories and
novels.
This controversy produced unfavorable reactions in
critical circles. A few critics believed that his novels
were products of his clinical method. More astute critics,
however, quickly saw that no clinical objectivity was pos
sible in Zola's creative process. Angered when they saw
that the novels were not what the author claimed them to
be, and disgusted by the high incidence of obscenity, they
denounced his books without giving careful consideration to
their positive values.
Mark Twain is equally enigmatic if one searches for
a theme in Huck Finn. He prefaces his novel with the
admonition that anyone attempting to find a moral in the
book will be shot. Yet personal statements in his Auto
biography indicate that a search for a moral in his novel
might prove rewarding. On one occasion he stated, "I have
always preached. ..." He went on to say that humor was
only incidental to his writings. Even without the humor,
372
he would have written his sermons. On another occasion he
remarked that the crisis of Huck Finn culminated in Huck's
triumph in his battle with his own conscience. Such a
provocative statement cannot fail to interest students
eager to simplify the meaning of a great book.
These contradictions are further compounded by the
wide range of critical opinion written about each book.
In the case of Anna Karenina the disparity of critical
opinion is enough to make one feel that no single theme can
be gleaned from the book. This, of course, is just what
Tolstoy has said. Literary critics have approached the
novel from three different perspectives.
The most obvious way to interpret Anna Karenina is to
search for a moral in the life and tragedy of the heroine.
Anna has sinned and is punished. This is simple. But
whether or not Anna was the perpetrator or the victim of
her circumstances is not so clear. In fact the vagueness
of this issue makes it impossible to elicit a clearcut
theme from the novel through a study of Anna alone.
A second area of interpretation is occasioned by the
repeated ridicule with which Tolstoy attacks St. Petersburg
society. Throughout the novel Levin is consistently unable
373
to understand the values of this society. Tolstoy, as
narrator, understands and ridicules them. More important,
it is this society which drives Anna to distraction and
suicide as a result of her love affair with Vronsky. More
than one reviewer has suggested that in this book society
is the instrument God uses to punish those who break His
laws. On the other hand, perhaps the motto of the book,
"Vengeance is Mine, saith the Lord," is directed at this
insincere society rather than at the noble but erring woman
it destroys.
The most comprehensive interpretations of Anna
Karenina are based on contrasting the lives of Levin and
Anna. Each experiences the normal trials of life, such as
marriage, birth of children, and death of loved ones.
Through this process Levin’s personality reflects develop
ment toward a balanced and happy life with family and
friends. Anna, distracted by her position outside of
society, suffers from each experience and is finally
weakened to the point where she cannot accept life. While
the contrast in the lives of Levin and Anna is worth study
ing, it must be observed that Anna’s disintegration is
gradual. Levin, in spite of his increasing good fortune,
374
does not reveal an equivalent increase in happiness. His
"conversion," a moment where he feels he has found the
meaning of life and true happiness, is a sudden, revelatory
experience. The nature of this experience tends to render
any structural contrast of the lives of Anna and Levin
invalid as a means of interpreting the novel as a whole.
Levin did find a new theme for his life, but this is not
the theme of the novel. Levin's conversion experience will
be discussed again below.
Tolstoy has said that a book would have to be written
if Anna Karenina were to be explained. The truth of this
statement is evidenced by the complexity of the topics con
sidered above. They discuss only major themes or raise
questions concerning God's laws for men. Their diversity
and complexity are enough to show that no predominant
literary theme structures the entire novel.
Germinal poses a simpler problem. In spite of the
erroneous assertions Zola made about his experimental tech
niques, Germinal is a well-structured thematic novel. Its
moral import has been emphasized to the extent that its
characters are reduced to symbols.
The miners are obviously victims of their environment,
and each member of the Maheu family reflects a way in which
375
the unbearable hardships of the mine will distort human
personality. Zola is careful to show that all classes of
society, not just the miners, are affected by the mine and
the "system" that controls their lives. The workers fail
in their revolt, but implicit within the story as well as
the title of the book, a new revolt shall succeed in crush”
ing the old system. With its destruction, the germinal
seeds of a new order will bring a better life to mankind.
Huck Finn offers the reader no clearcut theme to con
sider. Literary critics have written a great deal about
the novel's structure and its criticism of slavery. Just
as with Anna Karenina, the confusion and contradictions of
literary criticism indicate the lack of a clearcut theme in
Twain's masterpiece. There does seem to be a definite dif
ference between the life Jim and Huck experience on board
their raft and the life of those characters Huck meets
ashore. This has led critics to see in the novel a con
trast of the life of a natural man with the life of men
playing the roles forced upon them by society. Another
insight is offered by the scene where Huck overcomes the
admonition of his conscience, admits to himself and to Jim
that he loves the colored man as one human being loves
376
another, and finally, resolves to aid him in his flight.
There is other evidence in the book that Twain strongly
condemned the social and economic injustices traditional to
Huck's environment. Leslie Fiedler has even suggested that
the long, comic ending of the novel in which Jim is the
object of children's games can seem no more absurd to Jim
than his life as a slave. A man who has lived his life
knowing that he can be sold is incapable of questioning the
logic behind the schemes Tom proposes as means to liberate
him from the chicken house. Although Twain preaches more
than one sermon against the institutions of slavery in Huck
Finn, it would be incorrect to say that this was the cen
tral idea upon which he structured the book. Rather, as in
the case of Tolstoy, the author's personality and opinions
are reflected when he becomes absorbed in his own creative
work. Twain's personal conviction in the moral right of
equal opportunity and equal consideration for all human
beings appears repeatedly in Huck Finn.
Of the three novels considered, only Germinal reflects
a clearcut literary theme that structures the entire novel.
Anna Karenina and Huck Finn are novels with a great deal to
say about the world and the people in it. The attitudes
377
of their authors are strongly reflected in individual
scenes. To this extent it would be possible to show how
certain themes are evidenced by selected scenes and epi
sodes in the books. This is not satisfactory, however, if
we are to consider each novel as a unified work of art.
Rather, we will have to accept Tolstoy's statement that he
wrote Anna Karenina to entertain his readers. Similarly,
the nature of the structure of Ruck Finn prompts us to
follow the dictates of common sense and say that Twain,
too, wrote his masterpiece primarily to entertain.
The primary purpose of art, according to Tolstoy, is
to convey the highest religious perceptions of the time.
Only Germinal of the novels studied has a dominant theme.
This theme, though it implies the brotherhood of man, does
not invade the realm of religious perception. (A Marxist
might insist that it does reflect the highest human insight
of the time, but Zola himself, even at the time he wrote
the novel, would have found such a statement very strange.)
There is a scene in Anna Karenina which does reflect
what Tolstoy considered the deepest religious perception of
his time. This is the scene where Levin listens to one
peasant describe another as a "good man" because he is
378
in harmony with God and just with his fellow men. The
impact of this strikes Levin with great force, and he is
suddenly aware of having undergone a personal religious
experience. He realizes for the first time that the truly
important things in life are to have an unquestioning faith
in God and to deal honestly, generously, and fairly with
all of one's fellow men. Levin feels convinced in the
closing pages of Anna Karenina that he has found a theme
for his life which will give him genuine happiness.
This scene corresponds to Tolstoy’s definition of art,
and it fulfills in two ways what he considers the purpose
of art. The scene conveys feelings Tolstoy himself had
experienced in 1838 (four years before Anna Karenina was
published). There is a quality of infectious emotion in
Tolstoy's rendering of the experience. The significant
perception rendered from the scene is an awareness that one
must trust in God and treat all men as brothers--the domi
nant teaching of vital Christianity. If the entire novel,
Anna Karenina, taught the same lesson as this scene,
Tolstoy in his old age would not have renounced it as
counterfeit art.
It is not surprising that this scene should bear such
a close correlation to Tolstoy's description of genuine art
379
in What is Art? His autobiography tells us that he went
through the same kind of emotional experience himself.
This experience shaped his subsequent life (perhaps not
quite as he thought it would at the time he was writing
Anna Karenina). In fact this experience, recorded in
Tolstoy's autobiography and presented artistically in Anna
Karenina, can in a sense be considered germinal to What is
Art? published forty years later.
Neither Germinal nor Huck Finn reflects what Tolstoy
would call the deepest religious perceptions of the time.
One of the obvious reasons for this is that neither Zola
nor Twain shared Tolstoy's religious convictions. It is
not necessary to inquire into the religious beliefs Zola
professed or the contradictions of naturalism and Chris
tianity. A glance at his life is enough to see that his
work was really his religion, and he, accordingly, dedi
cated tremendous energy to it. Mark Twain was never able
intellectually to accept the Christian religion. Yet the
lives and work of both Twain and Zola bear witness to their
great humanitarian natures.
Enough has been said about the religious and thematic
aspects of the purpose of the novel. A work of art may
380
also serve to unite men through the quality of the emotions
it expresses. Novels which convey feelings that remind the
reader of experiences and emotions which are common to him
and to all men alike serve to unite men. This universality
of experience should cause the reader to reflect on how
like himself all other men are, and how, basically, all men
are brothers.
In Anna Karenina there are a great many scenes which
convey this type of emotion. To be sure, Anna's tragedy
and Tolstoy's deadly satire of society serve the opposite
purpose. There are, however, many scenes that convey uni
versal experience. Levin mowing the field, his proposal
to Kitty, his helplessness at the bedside of a dying
brother, his conversion, his inspection of a new-born calf,
and even Anna at the ball are vivid examples. Tolstoy, the
master technician, selective in his descriptions of scenes,
smells, and movement, imbues the pages of his novel with an
enthusiasm and feeling of joy which captures the reader.
This same enthusiasm establishes a bond between character
and reader. In fact, it is this infectious quality of the
individual scene that gives the impression of reality to
the literary character. Many of Tolstoy's characters--
381
Levin, Kitty, and the old Prince--ere memorable because
they do remind the reader of kindred feelings he has ex
perienced.
Germinal is a novel of strong, forceful, and infec
tious emotion. There are a few scenes in the novel which
display the universal emotions of which Tolstoy speaks.
Some of these scenes are Catherine and £tienne falling in
love, the miners’ wives gossiping and forgetting their
work, the doomed sentry at the mine describing his home on
the farm, and the terror of the miners when they realize
that the mine is beginning to collapse. The reader feels
compassion for Zola's characters in these episodes. Zola's
technique is such that he stretches the reader's emotions
out of shape. Instead of limiting himself to building up
compassionate scenes, he exploits the reader's propensity
for compassion. The pity felt for the miners turns to
horror as the reader witnesses one injustice after another
perpetrated upon them. Zola claimed that his purpose was
to open his readers' eyes to the social injustices around
them so that these conditions would be ameliorated by the
actions of an indignant society. Though we know that
Zola's expression of his literary purpose in The Experi
mental Novel lacked veracity, there is less reason to
382
disbelieve his humanitarian claims. Indeed, his personal
dedication to justice in the highly publicized Dreyfus
case proves that he had within him the spirits of reformer
and humanitarian. Zola preached the message that all men
are brothers, not as artistically, but certainly as force
fully as did Tolstoy.
In the case of Huck Finn Twain made conscious use of
the infectious quality of laughter to draw men together.
This bond of common emotion is as universal as any other.
Twain's description of the scenery along the Mississippi
River reflects feelings in another way. They are rendered
so exquisitely that the reader can share the narrator's
joy at witnessing God's handiwork around him. Aside from
the extensive humor and these scenic descriptions of
nature, there is little infectious emotion in Huck Finn.
Twain plays down emotion in many scenes where one would
suppose the author would be tempted to overuse it, as, for
instance, in the destruction of the Grangerford clan and
in Jim’s sacrificing his chance for escape in order to take
the snake-bitten Huck to a doctor.
Though Twain did not necessarily try to convey feel
ings he had experienced in his art, he did relate adven
tures based on boyhood experiences: His principal subject
383
matter includes the carefree days of boyhood, the pranks
that boys play, the spirit of adventure, and the thrill of
investigating something new. These experiences are of a
universal nature. They cannot but remind men of their own
boyhood experiences. Twain achieves the same feeling of
sharing of experience through reminiscence and association
that Tolstoy does by re-creating emotions he has felt.
Tolstoy's method calls for the greater artistry, but Twain
has probably been more successful at sustaining this feel
ing through the course of an entire book.
Tolstoy, Zola, and Twain--so very different in their
techniques, in their religious attitudes, and the subject
matter they chose for their novels--manifest an amazingly
strong common bond. They were concerned with mankind,
collectively and individually. These writers were con
scious that they wrote about mankind, and that raankirld was
their audience. A part of the message of each was that
every human being is the brother of all other men.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
BIBLIOGRAPHY
What is Art?
Collingswood, Robin G. ”Expression in Art.” In Morris
Weitz, ed., Problems in Aesthetics. New York, 1959.
Hennings, F. W. J. The Russian Novel in France. Oxford,
1950.
Hornblow, Arthur. ''Denunciations of Contemporary Art”
(rev. of What is Art?). Bookman, 12:383*387.
Joy, Charles R., ed. Lyof Tolstoy: An Anthology. Boston,
1958.
Lavrin, Janko. Tolstoy: An Approach. New York, 1946.
Rolland, Remain. Tolstov. trans. Bernard Miall. New York,
1953.
Simmons, Earnest J. Leo Tolstoy. Boston, 1946.
Tolstoy, Leo. "My Confession." In The Novels and Other
Works of Lvof N. Tolstoi. XVII. New York, 1907.
_____________. What is Art? trans. Aylmer Maude. New York,
1898.
Anna Karenina
Anna Karenina. Anon, rev., Athenaeum, 2:871. December 28,
1901.
385
386
Anna Karenina. Anon, rev., Bookman (London), 39:197,
January 1911.
Anna Karenina. Anon, rev., Nation. 73:404, November 1921.
Anna Karenina (rev. of the dramatization). Theatre Arts.
21:852-860, November 1937.
Arnold, Matthew. "Count Leo Tolstoi." In Malcolm S.
Maclean and Elizabeth K. Holmes, eds., Men and Books.
New York, 1932.
Blackmur, R. P. "Anna Karenina: The Dialect of Incarna
tion," Kenyon Review. 12:433-456, September 1950.
Cary, Joyce. Art and Reality: Wavs of the Creative
Process. New York, 1958.
Farrell, James T. Literature and Morality. New York,
1947.
Fedin, K. "Genius of Tolstoy," trans. E. Zarudnaya,
Atlantic Monthly. 205:85-86, July 1960.
Gill, C. W. "Tolstoi the Novelist," Chautauguan.
69:312-319, February 1913.
Giraud, E. "Countess Anna Karenina: A Supreme Achievement"
(rev. of the drama), Living Age. 321:919-920, May 10,
1924.
Hearn, Lafcadio. Essays in European and Oriental Litera
ture, ed. Albert Mordell. London, 1923.
Hemmings, F. W. J. The Russian Novel in France 1884-1914.
Oxford, 1950.
Laugel, A. "Tolstoi's New Novel" (rev. of Anna Karenina^
Nation. 41:112, April 6, 1885. I
Littell, Philip. "Anna Revisited," Books and Things.
New York, 1919- Also in New Republic. 15:321, July j
1918.
387
Lovett, R. M. "Tolstoy: The Lesson of the Artist," New
Republic. 56:63-66, September 1923.
Low, F. H. "Anna Karenina: An Appreciation,” Fortnightly
Review. 96:728-744, October 1911.
Lubbock, Percy. The Craft of Fiction. New York, 1929.
Mann, Thomas. Essays of Three Decades. New York, 1948.
. "Tolstoy," trans. H. Negel. Dial. 85:453-
459, December 1928.
. "Thoughts upon Goethe and Tolstoy," Living
Age, 312:409-412, February 1922.
Manning, C. A. "Tolstoy and Anna Karenina," RflLA,
42:505-521, June 1927.
Maude, Aylmer. Leo Tolstoy. New York, 1918.
Nazaroff, Alexander L. Tolstoy: The Inconstant Genius.
New York, 1929.
Noyes, George Rapall. Tolstoy. London, 1919.
Pavlov, P. "Family Happiness in Tolstoy’s Novels,"
Slavonic Review, 7:492-510.
Pritchett, V. S. "Tolstoy's Marriage Novels," New States
man and Nation. 28:287-288, October 28, 1944.
Steiner, Edward A. "Tolstoy’s Marriage and Family Life,"
Outlook. 75:67-76, October 3, 1903.
__________________. Tolstoy: The Man and his Message.
New York, 1908.
"Stendhal and Tolstoi," Harpers. 114:479-482, February
1907.
Stem, J. P. M. "Effi Briest, Madame Bovary, Anna
Karenina," Modem Language Review. 52:363-375, July
1957.
388
Tolstoy, Count Ilya. Reminiscences of Tolstoy, trans.
George Calderon. New York, 1914.
Tolstoy, Leo. Anna Karenina, trans. Constance Garnett.
Philadelphia^ [n. d.]
_____________. "My Confession." In The Novels and Other
Works of Lvof N. Tolstoi. XVII. New York, 1907.
_____________. "Lesson of the 'Kreutzer Sonata,'" The
Kreutzer Sonata and Other Stories, trans. Benjamin R.
Tucker. New York, 1890.
Trilling, Lionel. The Opposing Self. New York, 1955.
Van Doren, Mark. "First Glance: The Devil," Nation.
122:699, June 23, 1926.
"Writing Anna Karenina." Bookman. 40:133-134, October 1914.
Zweig, Stephan. Masterbuilders. New York, 1939.
Germinal
Ayme, Marcel. "Zola: Truth despite Science," trans. Herman
Briffault, Saturday Review of Literature. 34:17-18,
January 27, 1951.
Barbusse, Henri. Zola, trans. Mary Balairdie Green and
Frederick C. Green. London and Toronto, 1932.
Beach, Joseph Warren. The Twentieth Century Novel. New
York, 1932.
Bennetton, Norman A. "Social Thought in £mile Zola,"
Sociology and Social Research. 13:366-376, March 1929.
Blankenagel, J. C. "The Mob in Zola's Germinal and in
Hauptmann's Weavers." PM LA. 39:705-721, September 1924.
Brown, Donald F. "Chilean Germinal: Zola and Baldomero
Lillo," Modem Language Notes. 65:47-52, January 1950.
389
Crawford, Emily. "Novels of Zola," Contemporary Review,
55:94-113, January 1889.
Croce, Benedetto. European Literature in the Nineteenth
Century. New York, 1924.
Decker, Clarence A. "Zola's Literary Reputation in
England," RfLA, 49:1140-1153, December 1934.
Edwards, Herbert. "Zola and the American Critics,"
American Literature. 4:114-129, May 1932.
Farrell, James T. "Some Observations on Naturalism,
So-Called, in Fiction," Antioch Review. 10:249-258,
June 1950.
Gautier, E. Paul. "Zola as Imitator of Flaubert's Style,"
Modern Language Notes. 75:423-427, May 1960.
Grant, Eliot M. "Concerning the Sources of Germinal,"
Romantic Review, 49:168-178, October 1958.
_______________. "Newspapers of Germinal: Their Identity
and Significance," Modern Language Review. 55:87-89,
January 1960.
Gravit, F. W. "Annual Bibliography for 1959," PMLA,
75:289, March 1960.
Hart, R. E. S. "Zola's Philosophy of Life," Fortnightly
Review, 66:257-271, August 1896.
James, Henry. Notes on Novelists. New York, 1914.
Josephson, Matthew. Zola and his Time. New York, 1928.
Kain, Richard M. "Test of Time--Germinal," Saturday Review
of Literature, 15:8, April 3, 1937.
Lanoux, Armand. Zola, trans. Mary Glasgow. London, 1955.
Lee, Vernon. "The Moral Teachings of Zola," The Con
temporary Review, 63:196-212, February 1893.
390
Lynch, Hannah. "'Fecondite' versus the 'Kreutzer Sonata,”'
Fortnightly Review. 73:69-78, January 1900.
Meyer, George W. "Original Social Purpose of the Natural
istic Novel," Sewanee Review. 50:563-570, October 1942.
Moore, Charles H. "Hearing on Germinal and Die Weber."
Germanic Review, 33:30-40, February 1958.
Murray, David L. Scenes and Silhouettes. London, [n. d.]
Niess, R. J. "Qnile Zola: From Fact to Fiction," Modem
Language Notes. 63:407, June 1948.
Peck, Harry Thurston. Studies in Several Literatures.
New York, 1909.
Pritchett, V. S. "Books in General," New Statesman and
Nation. February 22, 1941, pp. 188-189-
Rod, Edouard, "fimile Zola as a Moralist," Living Age,
222:137-143, July 1899-
Root, Winthrop H. German Criticism of Zola 1875-1893.
New York, 1931.
Salvan, A. J. "Lafcadio Hearn's Views on the Realism of
Zola," PMLA, 67:1163-1167, December 1952.
Symons, Arthur. The Symbolist Movement in Literature.
New York, 1958.
Tumell, Martin. The Art of French Fiction. Norfolk,
Conn., 1959.
Vanderlip, Eldad Cornelius. "Fate in the Novels of Zola
and Couperus: A Comparison with the Greek Concept: of
Fate." Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University
of Southern California, 1959.
Wells, Benjamin W. A Century of French Fiction. New York,
1912.
391
West, Anthony- ’ ’ The Perils of Chastity" (rev. of La
Curee), New Yorker, December 11, 1954, p. 74.
/
Wilson, Angus. Etaile Zola: An Introductory Study of his
Novels. New York, 1952.
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
Audin, W. H. "Huck and Oliver." In Leslie Fiedler, ed.,
The Art of the Essay. New York, 1958.
Baldenza, Frank. "The Structure of Huckleberry Finn."
American Literature. 27:347-355, November 1955.
Bellamy, Gladys Carmen. Mark Twain as a Literary Artist.
Norman, Okla., 1950.
Bennett, James O'Donnell. "How 'Huckleberry Finn' was
Written," Much Loved Books: Best Sellers of the Ages.
New York, 1927.
_________________________ . "Mark Twain's 'Adventures of
Huckleberry Finn,'" Much Loved Books: Best SelT .s of
the Ages. New York, 1927.
Brashear, Minnie M. Mark Twain: Son of Missouri. Chapel
Hill, 1934.
Brooks, Van Wyck. The Ordeal of Mark Twain. New York,
1955.
Clemens, Cyril. "The Model for Huckleberry Finn," Hobbies,
59:196-207, February 1955.
Clemens, Samuel. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.
New York, 1912.
________________- The Art, Humor, and Humanity of Mark
Twain, eds. Minnie M. Brashear and Robert M. Rodney.
Norman, 1959.
________________. The Autobiography of Mark Twain, ed.
Charles Neider. New York, 1959.
392
Clemens, Samuel. Mark Twain: Business Han, ed. Samuel
Charles Webster. Boston, 1946.
________________. Mark Twain-Howells Letters, ed. Henry
Nash Smith and William M. Gibson. Cambridge, Mass.,
1960.
Cox, James M. "Remarks on the Sad Initiation of Huckle
berry Finn,M Interpretations of American Literature,
ed. Charles Feidelson. New York, 1959.
De Voto, Bernard. "Mark Twain and the Limits of Criti
cism," Forays and Rebuttals. Boston, 1936.
_________________• Mark Twain’s America. Chautauqua, 1933.
_________________. "Mark Twain: The Ink of History," Forays
and Rebuttals. Boston, 1936.
Dickinson, Asa Don. "Huckleberry Finn is Fifty Years Old--
Yes: But Is He Respectable?" Wilson Bulletin for
Librarians. November 1935.
Elliott, George P. "Wonder for Huckleberry Finn," Twelve
Original Essays on Great American Novels, ed. Charles
Shapiro. Detroit, 1958.
Erskine, John. "Huckleberry Finn," The Delight of Great
Books. Indianapolis, 1928.
Fadiraan, Clifton. "A Note on Huckleberry Finn," Party
of One. New York, 1955.
Farrell, James T. "Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn and Tom
Sawyer," The League of Frightened Philistines and Other
Papers. New York, IS45.
Fiedler, Leslie A. "Huckleberry Finn: Faust in the Eden of
Childhood," Love and Death in the American Novel.
New York, I960.
"Huckleberry Finn is Public Domain," The Publisher’s Weekly,
140:2008, November 1941.
393
Long, E. Hudson. The Mark Twain Handbook. New York, 1957.
Lucas, E. V. "Huckleberry Finn," Visibility Good: Essays
and Excursions. London, 1931.
Lynn, Kenneth S. "Huck and Jim," The Yale Review. Vol. 47,
No. 3, Spring 1958.
Matthews, Brander. "Memories of Mark Twain," The Tocsin
Revolt and Other Essays. New York, 1922.
Meltzer, Milton, ed. and photog. Mark Twain Himself:
A Pictorial Bibliography. New York, 1960.
Omsteln, Robert. "The Ending of Huckleberry Finn," Modem
Language Notes. 74:698-702, December 1959.
Phelps, William Lyon. "Mark Twain," Essays on Modem
Novelists. Chautauqua, 1918.
Rogers, Franklin R. Mark Twain’s Burlesque Patterns: As
Seen in the Novels and Narratives 1855-1885. Dallas,
1960.
Shayon, Robert Lewis. "Which Twin has the Twain?" Saturday
Review, December 21, 1957, p. 28.
Trilling, Lionel. "Huckleberry Finn." In Leslie Fiedler,
ed., The Art of the Essay. New York, 1958.
Vogelbach, Arthur. "The Publication and Reception of
Huckleberry Finn in America," American Literature,
11:266-267, November 1939-
Wagenknecht, Edward. Mark Twain: The Man and His Work.
New Haven, 1935.
Wasiolek, Edward. "The Structure of Make-Believe: Huckle
berry Finn." University of Kansas Review. 24:98-99,
December 1957.
Wecter, Dixon. Sam Clemens of Hannibal. Cambridge, Mass.,
1952.

Linked assets

University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses

Conceptually similar

PDF

The American criticism of Stendhal

PDF

The Reception Of American Literature In Germany, 1861-1871

PDF

The Act Itself And The Word: A Study Of Abstraction Versus The Concrete In The Work Of Albert Camus

PDF

Theological And Dramatic Concepts Of The End Of Man In The Middle Ages

PDF

The Critical Reception Of The Dramas Of Albert Camus In The United States, 1945-1964

PDF

The Literary Kinship Of Leo N. Tolstoy And Romain Rolland: A Comparativestudy Of The Epic Dimensions Of 'War And Peace' And 'Jean-Christophe'

PDF

The Balzac Book Of Ernst Robert Curtis

PDF

The Giant And The Dragon Of The Folk Epic

PDF

'Guingamor,' 'Guigemar,' 'Graelentmor,' 'Lanval,' And 'Desire': A Comparative Study Of Five Breton Lays

PDF

The Literary Styles Of Jean-Paul Sartre And William Faulkner: An Analysis, Comparison, And Contrast

PDF

False Prophets In Fiction: Camus, Dostoevsky, Melville, And Others

PDF

An Analysis Of Antithesis As A Basis Of Epic Rhetorical Patterns

PDF

Narrative Purpose In The Novella

PDF

Form As Theme: A Study Of Andre Gide

PDF

The Proteges Of Lancelot: A Study Of Malory'S Characterization Of Lancelot In The 'Morte Darthur'

PDF

Ralph Ellison'S "Invisible Man" As A Repository Of Major Elements From Principal Western Literary Traditions

PDF

Neo-Metamorphoses: A Cyclical Study. Comparative Transformations In Ovidian Myth And Modern Literature

PDF

The Artful Artificer, Bertolt Brecht: A Study Of Six 'Bearbeitungen.'

PDF

A Consideration Of The Criticism Of Swift'S 'Gulliver'S Travels,' 1890 To1960

PDF

Imagination And Reality In Wallace Stevens' Prose And Early Poetry

Asset Metadata

Creator Ater, Leroy Earl, Jr. (author)

Core Title An Examination Of Three Major Novels In World Literature In The Light Of Critical Precepts Derived From Tolstoy'S "What Is Art?"

Degree Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Program Comparative Literature

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag Literature, General,OAI-PMH Harvest

Language English

Contributor Digitized by ProQuest (provenance)

Advisor Hadley, Paul E. (committee chair), Belle, Rene F. (committee member), Crittenden, Walter M. (committee member)

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-c18-319883

Unique identifier UC11358833

Identifier 6406234.pdf (filename),usctheses-c18-319883 (legacy record id)

Legacy Identifier 6406234.pdf

Dmrecord 319883

Document Type Dissertation

Rights Ater, Leroy Earl, Jr.

Type texts

Source University of Southern California (contributing entity), University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses (collection)

Access Conditions The author retains rights to his/her dissertation, thesis or other graduate work according to U.S. copyright law. Electronic access is being provided by the USC Libraries in agreement with the au...

Repository Name University of Southern California Digital Library

Repository Location USC Digital Library, University of Southern California, University Park Campus, Los Angeles, California 90089, USA