FLAUBERT
207
learning, though it may be of intellectual interest and foreshadow
some of the criticisms that are made of mass culture, does not and
cannot possess any of the virtues of a work of art, virtues which, as
we have seen, all converge in
Madame Bovary.
The extraordinary importance of
this
work, which prepared the
way for modem literature and the modem theater, makes us doubt
the reality of Flaubert's literary theories, as interpreted by those who
are determined to see him as a pure creator of forms.
And in fact, most of the statements on this subject in his letters
show that, for him, form and substance were inseparable.
As
for instance: ."There are no brilliant thoughts without bril–
liant forms, and the other way round."
Or else: "There is more to art than straightness of line and
smoothness of surface. The breadth of an idea is greater than that of
its
plastiqu.e.
. . .
The more brilliant the idea, the more sonorous the
sentence."
Or this: "Precision of thought produces (and is itself) precision
of words."
And again: "Our objective must be seriously pondered before
we start thinking of form, which will only tum out well
if
we are
obsessed by the illusion of our subject."
Any number of these quotations could be found.
But, people say, in
all
these ideas, as in his admiration for Boileau,
Flaubert is still a nineteenth-century writer. And my reply is: In these
ideas, which are based on
his
genuine experience, he remains a
writer for all time.
If
he were not, he would be merely a champion
of the art of fine, empty language, as practiced by countless "men of
letters" who are today forgotten.
And yet he is undeniably a precursor of the modem novelist.
To begin with, as we have already seen, the contemporary novel
and theater have not yet exhausted the wealth of his contribution.
Then, through his explicit statements, he foretold, even invoked,
the literature of the future.
When he wrote: "What I should like to do is to write a book
about nothing, a book that has no ties with the outside..." I cannot
believe that he had in mind a succession of fine, empty sentences.
For he added: "A book that had almost no subject, or rather, one
in
which the subject were almost invisible, if this were possible. The
finest works are those that contain the least material; the closer the
