Zola lacked in conversation what he lacked in his writing: delicacy, refinement, lightness. He was heavy, ponderous and rather aggressive.
I teased him one day: "How is the chase after human documents going on?" I asked.
"Quite well, Madame. I hunt my quarry everywhere, and all day long. Human documents, slices of life, searching character-studies, that is all there is in literature."
"But what of the writer's personality? Is that of no account whatever?"
"It shouldn't be. I try to eliminate my personality from my books...."
"And don't you succeed?" I asked.
"I have the misfortune of being possessed of a temperament which I cannot altogether get rid of, alas!" came the pompous reply.
Another time, after re-reading "La Terre," I told him "You are a pessimist, M. Zola! You see only one side of life, the ugly and animal side; and but one kind of people... the bad kind. And to cap it all, you exaggerate. You believe yourself a 'realist,' but as a matter of fact, you are an idealist... with an ugly ideal!"
It was very evident that Zola was not pleased. Without relenting, however, I went on: "I have lived in the country for many, many years. I assure you that our peasants round Beaucourt and Belfort bear very little likeness to the brutes you describe. I have loved the peasants...."
"And I, Madame," Zola retorted severely, "I have observed them."