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Style
Style (Theory and History), written by Ernest Hello, and published in 1861, is a collection of essays on the subject of... style; it is page after page of keen psychological insight into men, minds, God, art, life, and other things.
Helloʼs style itself, – contrary to what one might think from the rather boring title – runs the gamut from trenchant, mocking, playful, masterly, to brilliant. He takes a particular pleasure in laying into not a few of Franceʼs eighteenth century great luminaries – such as Voltaire, Rousseau and Bernardin de Saint-Pierre – like a man with a pitchfork rushing at a pig. No one escapes the pen unscathed. They all scamper away bruised, bloodied, with their tails between their legs.
His critical assessments of Greek poetry, prose, and drama are brilliant, invigorating, novel and worth the charge of admission on their own: “...in order to penetrate Greek tragedy, one must seize it at its source, in Homer. Greek tragedy is a comment on the Iliad...” From the Greeks he proceeds to Rome eventually: “Virgil was actually incapable of imitating Homer; he wrote a parody...” and “Tacitus is not only the greatest writer of the Latin language, he is the greatest writer of classical antiquity.”
Bloyians will see in Ernest Hello a germ that sprouted in his brain; he had a huge influence on Léon Bloyʼs style and thought, particularly as a critic, but also as an artist and as a Catholic writer. Take this for instance: “What does not kneel before God kneels before the devil.” Sound like anyone we know? After you read Style (Theory and History) by Hello, go back and re-read Bloyʼs Je MʼAccuse and see if you canʼt hear the echoes from this book bouncing off its pages, as from a source.
Helloʼs style itself, – contrary to what one might think from the rather boring title – runs the gamut from trenchant, mocking, playful, masterly, to brilliant. He takes a particular pleasure in laying into not a few of Franceʼs eighteenth century great luminaries – such as Voltaire, Rousseau and Bernardin de Saint-Pierre – like a man with a pitchfork rushing at a pig. No one escapes the pen unscathed. They all scamper away bruised, bloodied, with their tails between their legs.
His critical assessments of Greek poetry, prose, and drama are brilliant, invigorating, novel and worth the charge of admission on their own: “...in order to penetrate Greek tragedy, one must seize it at its source, in Homer. Greek tragedy is a comment on the Iliad...” From the Greeks he proceeds to Rome eventually: “Virgil was actually incapable of imitating Homer; he wrote a parody...” and “Tacitus is not only the greatest writer of the Latin language, he is the greatest writer of classical antiquity.”
Bloyians will see in Ernest Hello a germ that sprouted in his brain; he had a huge influence on Léon Bloyʼs style and thought, particularly as a critic, but also as an artist and as a Catholic writer. Take this for instance: “What does not kneel before God kneels before the devil.” Sound like anyone we know? After you read Style (Theory and History) by Hello, go back and re-read Bloyʼs Je MʼAccuse and see if you canʼt hear the echoes from this book bouncing off its pages, as from a source.
228 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1861
14 people want to read
About the author
Ernest Hello
52 books12 followersErnest Hello (4 November 1828 – 14 July 1885) was a French Roman Catholic writer, who produced books and articles on philosophy, theology, and literature.
Frail from infancy, he also suffered from a spinal or bone disease. This struggle probably tinged his prose with a melancholy strain, which is strikingly original as mentioned in J.-K. Huysmans' work (they shared a veneration of the mystic John of Ruysbroeck). Both writers, like Leon Bloy, are almost impossible to translate. In 1857 he married Zoë Berthier, an army officer's daughter and talented writer herself, who was ten years older and a friend for some years before their marriage. She became his devoted nurse, which brought upon herself abuse from gutter journalists of the time for her estimable guardianship.
Hello's work is somewhat varied in form but uniform in spirit. His best-known book, Physionomie de saints (1875), which has been translated into English (1903) as Studies in Saintship, does not display his qualities best. Contes extraordinaires, published not long before his death, is more original, being often cited for its artistic yet lucid prose.
But Ernest Hello is mostly remembered now for a series of philosophical and critical essays, from Renan, l'Allemagne et l'atheisme (1861), which was re-published in an enlarged edition posthumously, through L'Homme (1871) on life, art and science in relation to present-day life (it was in its 7th edition by 1905), and Les Plateaux de la balance (1880) to the posthumously published Le Siècle, probably his master-work.
The peculiarity of his standpoint and the originality and vigour of his approach make his studies, of Shakespeare, Hugo and others, of abiding importance as literary "triangulation," the results of object, subject and point of view.
His interest in the application of philosophy and theology for the modern human condition is an enduring exploration, and indeed steps beyond the stricter parameters of Church thinking to speak to those seeking a way to live as well as fashion a creative perspective.
Frail from infancy, he also suffered from a spinal or bone disease. This struggle probably tinged his prose with a melancholy strain, which is strikingly original as mentioned in J.-K. Huysmans' work (they shared a veneration of the mystic John of Ruysbroeck). Both writers, like Leon Bloy, are almost impossible to translate. In 1857 he married Zoë Berthier, an army officer's daughter and talented writer herself, who was ten years older and a friend for some years before their marriage. She became his devoted nurse, which brought upon herself abuse from gutter journalists of the time for her estimable guardianship.
Hello's work is somewhat varied in form but uniform in spirit. His best-known book, Physionomie de saints (1875), which has been translated into English (1903) as Studies in Saintship, does not display his qualities best. Contes extraordinaires, published not long before his death, is more original, being often cited for its artistic yet lucid prose.
But Ernest Hello is mostly remembered now for a series of philosophical and critical essays, from Renan, l'Allemagne et l'atheisme (1861), which was re-published in an enlarged edition posthumously, through L'Homme (1871) on life, art and science in relation to present-day life (it was in its 7th edition by 1905), and Les Plateaux de la balance (1880) to the posthumously published Le Siècle, probably his master-work.
The peculiarity of his standpoint and the originality and vigour of his approach make his studies, of Shakespeare, Hugo and others, of abiding importance as literary "triangulation," the results of object, subject and point of view.
His interest in the application of philosophy and theology for the modern human condition is an enduring exploration, and indeed steps beyond the stricter parameters of Church thinking to speak to those seeking a way to live as well as fashion a creative perspective.
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
August 9, 2021
For those who cannot read French, or those who can but prefer English, this book is now available in English. See "Style (Theory and History)" -- which has a review (in English).
August 5, 2021
This book is probably mostly of interest to scholars and professionals. And anyone who has read Bloy, for Bloy refers to Ernest Hello often enough in his work to make one curious about him I believe (me at any rate). Hello is also mentioned by Des Esseintes (Huysmans' mouthpiece) in A rebours, as well I believe (if memory serves) by Huysmans' Durtal of En route, if not also elsewhere. So he has a pretty good pedigree. That said, he is *not* decadent by any stretch or definition of the word.
Do you hate Rousseau and Voltaire -- then you should read this book. Do you hate Paul and Virginie and all that back-to-nature c**p? (carp) -- then you should read this book. Do you love Homer, and the Greek tragedians -- you should read this book. Lots of good stuff here for the literary historian who does not dislike a strong opinion and possesses a strong appetite for trenchant wit and keen psychological insight into all sorts of things that pivot around literature, style, and men/man.
Would you care to see an insightful comparison between Greek tragedy, Shakespearian tragedy (Hamlet particularly), seventeenth and eighteenth century French tragedy, German tragedy (Faust) -- then read this book.
Also, in this particular book, there is very little of religion other than what comes "for free" from a Catholic writer who was writing in the 19th century. So if religion and Catholicism isn't your bag, not to worry. If it is your bag, there's still the underlying pov.
So lots here and lots to find interesting... but mostly if you are a scholar. Read it and weep, or read it and laugh -- depending on your disposition, both of which may be possible, particularly the last emotion.
In all transparency, if transparent we must be, I translated it.
Do you hate Rousseau and Voltaire -- then you should read this book. Do you hate Paul and Virginie and all that back-to-nature c**p? (carp) -- then you should read this book. Do you love Homer, and the Greek tragedians -- you should read this book. Lots of good stuff here for the literary historian who does not dislike a strong opinion and possesses a strong appetite for trenchant wit and keen psychological insight into all sorts of things that pivot around literature, style, and men/man.
Would you care to see an insightful comparison between Greek tragedy, Shakespearian tragedy (Hamlet particularly), seventeenth and eighteenth century French tragedy, German tragedy (Faust) -- then read this book.
Also, in this particular book, there is very little of religion other than what comes "for free" from a Catholic writer who was writing in the 19th century. So if religion and Catholicism isn't your bag, not to worry. If it is your bag, there's still the underlying pov.
So lots here and lots to find interesting... but mostly if you are a scholar. Read it and weep, or read it and laugh -- depending on your disposition, both of which may be possible, particularly the last emotion.
In all transparency, if transparent we must be, I translated it.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews