"You believe pretty thoroughly in these things, or you wouldn't abandonthe eternal triangle and the other stock subjects of the modernnovelists to write the story of Gilles de Rais," and after a silence DesHermies added, "I do not object to the latrine; hospital; and workshopvocabulary of naturalism. For one thing, the subject matter requiressome such diction. Again, Zola, in L'Assommoir, has shown that aheavy-handed artist can slap words together hit-or-miss and give aneffect of tremendous power. I do not really care how the naturalistsmaltreat language, but I do strenuously object to the earthiness oftheir ideas. They have made our literature the incarnation ofmaterialism—and they glorify the democracy of art!
"Say what you will, their theory is pitiful, and their tight littlemethod squeezes all the life out of them. Filth and the flesh are theirall in all. They deny wonder and reject the extra-sensual. I don'tbelieve they would know what you meant if you told them that artisticcuriosity begins at the very point where the senses leave off.
"You shrug your shoulders, but tell me, how much has naturalism done toclear up life's really troublesome mysteries? When an ulcer of thesoul—or indeed the most benign little pimple—is to be probed,naturalism can do nothing. 'Appetite and instinct' seem to be its solemotivation and rut and brainstorm its chronic states. The field ofnaturalism is the region below the umbilicus. Oh, it's a hernia clinicand it offers the soul a truss!
"I tell you, Durtal, it's superficial quackery, and that isn't all.This fetid naturalism eulogizes the atrocities of modern life andflatters our positively American ways. It ecstasizes over brute forceand apotheosizes the cash register. With amazing humility it defers tothe nauseating taste of the mob. It repudiates style, it rejects everyideal, every aspiration towards the supernatural and the beyond. It isso perfectly representative of bourgeois thought that it might be siredby Homais and dammed by Lisa, the butcher girl in Ventre de Paris."
"Heavens, how you go after it!" said Durtal, somewhat piqued. He lightedhis cigarette and went on, "I am as