Analysis of the novel Madame Bovary by Flaubert

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• Analysis of the novel Madame Bovary by Flaubert

The novel “Madame Bovary” still occupies a certain place in literature. The style of the novel is more of a psychological and dramatic genre, it is well thought out and easy to understand, where every word is perfection. The spirit of realism is strongly reflected, when in those days the romance and lyrics of the time were highlighted with all their might, despite wars and revolutions.

Flaubert went against everything gray and ordinary. He perfectly emphasized the style of French reality and the bright and memorable image of the characters in his novel: here there is patriotism and at the same time rejection of any innovation and modernity, love and compassion mixed with gray everyday life and indifference.

The plot of the novel tells about the tragic and unhappy fate of a young woman, Emma, ​​who married early, who, like a child, lived in her illusions, and not finding her ideal and meaning in life, commits suicide.

The position of the author - the novel clearly shows the position of the author, impartiality towards any character in the novel, it gives each reader the opportunity to evaluate for himself the actions and actions of all the characters in the novel. He only sanctifies the reality and originality of the philistinism in the remote French province. Groundless illusions about the heroine’s happy life, her imminent disappointment in family life, a deceitful husband, too ordinary and irresponsible lovers - everything is so devoid of romanticism in the novel that even the love scene does not take place somewhere in a cozy and nice place, but just some kind of exhibition. Everything is dry, arrogant and without unnecessary emotions.

And this is precisely the reason for the death of the heroine . She does not see the point in her future fate; there are lies, lies and deceit all around. What she was looking for so persistently and for a long time - the ideal life that was described in monastery books - does not exist, but the bitter reality is so terrible and disgusting. A rich imagination grown within the closed walls of the monastery, which closed her off from the realities of the world, gave rise to a tendency to absurd dreams and an inability to adapt to realities.

Bourgeois life in the novel is full of calculation and lies: Emma was chosen as a wife according to the dry calculation of her mother-in-law; Emma's husband's concealment of family income by Charles, in the form of additional income; The local pharmacist Gome, under a brilliant mask of piety, hides pettiness, deliberateness, gluttony and affairs.

The relevance of the novel is a reflection of some of the traits of people who live by the principle of starting a new life on “Monday”, and everything will work out and everything will be fine. The image of Emma lies in the inability to solve problems, to make every effort to create her ideal earthly life, and not an imaginary one. Even motherhood does not save her, because children are the meaning of any mother’s life.

Analysis 3

Flaubert based his novel Madame Bovary on a true story from the life of the Delamare family. It was told to Flaubert by his friend, the poet Louis Buinoe. According to his story, Eugene Delamare was a doctor from the provinces, first he was married to a widow, and then to a young lady, Delphine Couturier. She was dying of boredom in a provincial town, spending all her savings on a dress and lovers. In the end, she committed suicide. The author devoted 5 years of his life to writing this novel, trying to reveal to the reader all the secrets of provincial life. It was in this work that the author showed a unique poetic style.

The problems of the novel are directly related to the image of the main character - Emma Bovary. She studied in a monastery, dreams all the time, but in life she encounters everyday life and simplicity. One of the first disappointments was her wedding. Fantasizing about a romantic, unforgettable holiday, all she got was a farmer's party, and instead of a honeymoon - the household chores of arranging a new home. Even motherhood does not bring her joy; she really wanted a son, but cared for her daughter. Emma would really like to buy beautiful clothes for her baby, but she doesn’t have enough money. Emma tries to love her husband, and with him her daughter, throughout the whole novel.

One day she fell in love with a notary's assistant, a young man named Leon. And when she realizes her feelings for him, she tries not to give in to them and stay in the family, observing the rules of morality. People admired her restraint and prudence. But when Leon goes to Paris, Emma is sad. Then she meets her first lover, Rodolphe Boulanger.

For Emma he is like a hero from a book, but for Rodolphe she is just another lover. She takes it hard to betray her husband, like all romantic heroines, and almost dies of melancholy. However, he cannot control himself and gives in to his feelings.

A few years later, Madame Bovary meets her first love, Leon Dupuis. Currently, no moral principles or remorse stop them; they become lovers. They enjoy their love, but not for long.

Emma's husband does not seem to notice all his wife's love affairs; he blindly believes her and generally adores his wife. He is happy with her, but he has never wondered what she thinks, whether she is happy. Perhaps if he had shown more attention to his wife, they would have had a good relationship. Every time Emma looked for something good in her husband, he constantly disappointed her. Charles is a callous, mediocre doctor. This infuriated Madame Bovary.

Madame Bovary became confused in her feelings, at first she began to acquire things for herself in order to distract herself a little. I thought that in this way I would get closer to a better life. Then she began to give expensive gifts to her lovers, and furnished an apartment for her love pleasures. When financial collapse comes, for Emma it is also a collapse in a moral sense. Emma feels that she cannot continue to live like this, cannot live in a world where she has not found her happiness. And deliberately part with life. Charles, in turn, forgives his wife’s betrayal. He still loves her no matter what. And he decides to die after her, because life without her is not life.

Gustave Flaubert - Madame Bovary

Gustave Flaubert

Madame Bovary

Provincial customs

MARIE ANTOINE JULES SENARD,

member of the Parisian Bar Association, former President of the National Assembly, former Minister of the Interior.

Dear and illustrious friend!

Let me put your name at the head of this book and before its dedication: it is to no one else than you that I owe its publication in the first place. Having become the subject of your brilliant defensive speech, my work acquired a certain new and unexpected authority for myself. Please accept here my tribute of gratitude; no matter how great she may be, she will never reach the level of your eloquence and your devoted friendship.

Gustave Flaubert. Paris, April 12, 1857

Louis Bouillet

Part one

I

We were preparing our lessons when the director came in, followed by a newcomer in civilian clothes and an attendant who was carrying a large desk. Those who had dozed off woke up, and everyone jumped up, as if they had just looked up from work.

The director motioned for us to sit down and said in a low voice to the teacher:

- Here, Mr. Roger, I recommend you a new student. He enters the fifth grade, but if he deserves it with his success and behavior, he will move to the senior class, as befits his age.

The newcomer stood in the corner behind the door, so that we could barely see him. He was a village boy of about fifteen, taller than all of us. His hair was cut in a circle, like a village singer's; looking sedate and very embarrassed. Although he was not broad in the shoulders, his green cloth jacket with black buttons clearly pinched him in the armholes. Red hands, unaccustomed to gloves, protruded from the cuffs. Blue stockings were visible from under yellowish-colored trousers pulled up high at the waist. The shoes were rough, poorly cleaned, and studded with nails.

They started asking for lessons. The newcomer caught every word and listened attentively, like a sermon in church, not daring to lean on his elbows or cross his legs. At two o'clock, when the bell rang, the teacher had to call him: he himself did not pair up with us.

It was our custom, upon entering the classroom, to throw the helmets on the floor in order to free up our hands as quickly as possible. They were supposed to throw the cap from the doorway; they tried to throw it under the bench and against the wall to raise more dust. That was our style.

But either the newcomer did not notice this technique, or did not dare to repeat it after us; in any case, the prayer had long ended, and he was still holding his cap on his knees. It was a complex headdress, combining elements of a grenadier's cap, a Uhlan shako, a round hat, a fur cap, and a nightcap - in a word, one of those ugly things, the silent ugliness of which is as deeply expressive as the face of an idiot . Egg-shaped, spread on whalebone, it began with a rim of three sausage-like rolls; Next came a red band, and above it were several diamonds made of velvet and rabbit fur; the top was something like a bag, to the end of which was attached a cardboard polygon with intricate braid embroidery, and from this polygon hung pendants in the form of a tassel of gold thread on a long thin cord. The cap was brand new, with a shiny visor.

- Get up! - said the teacher.

The newcomer stood up, the cap fell to the floor. The whole class burst into laughter.

The newcomer bent down and picked up the cap. The neighbor nudged her and she fell; he picked it up again.

- Get rid of your helmet! - said the teacher: he was a witty man.

The schoolchildren burst into laughter, and the poor boy was completely at a loss and no longer knew whether to hold the cap in his hand, throw it on the floor, or put it on his head. Finally he sat down and laid her on his lap.

“Stand up,” the teacher repeated, “and tell me what your last name is.”

The newcomer, stammering, muttered something completely unintelligible.

- Repeat!

The muttering was heard again, drowned out by the laughter and hooting of the entire class.

- Louder! - the teacher shouted. - Louder!

And then the newcomer opened his mouth inordinately wide and with desperate determination, at the top of his lungs, as if he were calling to someone who was far away, he screamed: “Charbovary!” A deafening noise arose at that very second and kept growing with a powerful crescendo [1] with ringing cries (we roared, howled, stamped our feet, constantly repeating: “Sharbovary, Sharbovary!”), then it broke up into separate voices and could not calm down, every now and then running along the entire row of desks, flashing here and there with a muffled laugh, as if a firecracker had not completely extinguished.

But under a hail of punishments, order was gradually restored, and the teacher finally made out the words: “Charles Bovary,” forcing the newcomer to dictate this name to himself, spell it and re-read it again, and then ordered the poor fellow to sit on the “lazy bench” near the pulpit . The newcomer moved, but immediately stopped in indecision.

- What are you looking for? - asked the teacher.

“Cas...” the newcomer began timidly, looking around with a restless look.

- Five hundred lines for the whole class.

This furious shout, like the menacing “Quos ego!”,[2] stopped a new explosion.

- Finally, calm down! - the teacher added indignantly and, pulling out a handkerchief from under his cap, wiped the sweat from his forehead. - And you, a beginner, will conjugate “ridiculus sum” twenty times in writing.[3]

And in a more gentle voice he said:

- Well, your helmet will be found. Nobody stole it.

Finally there was complete silence. Their heads were bowed over their notebooks, and the newcomer sat for the entire two hours in the most approximate position, although from time to time he was hit in the face by balls of chewed paper deftly thrown from the tip of his pen. But he only wiped away the splashes with his hand and continued to sit completely motionless, with his eyes downcast.

In the evening, when it was time to prepare his homework, he took the armlets out of his desk, sorted out all his things, and carefully lined the paper. We watched how conscientiously he worked, diligently checking everything in the dictionary. It must have been only thanks to this genuine zeal that he did not remain in the junior class: he knew the grammatical rules quite well, but there was no grace in his turns of speech. Sparing money, his parents tried to send him to college as late as possible, and he learned the rudiments of Latin from the village priest.

His father, a retired military paramedic, Mr. Charles-Denis-Bartholomew Bovary, around 1812, compromised himself in some recruiting incident, was forced to leave the service and took advantage of his personal qualities to casually pick up a dowry of sixty thousand francs, which the owner of a hat shop gave for his daughter. The girl fell in love with his figure. A handsome man and a talker, he clicked his spurs loudly and wore a mustache with beards; rings always sparkled on his fingers, he dressed in bright colors and had the most dashing appearance, distinguished by the liveliness and swagger of a traveling salesman. Having married, Mr. Bovary lived off his dowry for two or three years: he dined well, got up late, smoked long porcelain pipes, went to the theater every evening and often went to cafes. Then the father-in-law died and left mere trifles; Mr. Bovary was indignant, became interested in factory production, almost went bankrupt and retired to the village to prove himself here. But since he understood no more about agriculture than about calico, since he took horses from plowing and rode them, and instead of selling cider in barrels, he himself drank it in bottles; since he ate the best bird from his poultry house, and lubricated his hunting boots with the lard of his pigs, he soon had to make sure that he could not count on the farm.

And so, for two hundred francs a year, he rented in a village, on the border of Caux and Picardy, something between a farm and a manor house, and at the age of forty-five he settled there, consumed by melancholy and vexation, grumbling at God and envying everyone in the world. He said that he was disappointed in people and decided to live out his life in retirement.

His wife was once crazy about him. She loved him slavishly, and this only alienated him from her. From a young age, cheerful, lively and loving, over the years she became irritable, whiny and nervous: just like wine, when it fizzles out, turns into vinegar. How much she suffered without complaining, at first, when her husband ran after every village girl, and in the evenings he came home from some dens - he came satiated, smelling of wine! But then pride awoke in her. Then she fell silent, harbored a grudge and retreated into silent stoicism, which she preserved until her death. She was always on the run, in trouble. It was she who went to the lawyers, to the chairman of the court, she remembered the terms of the bills, sought an extension; At home she ironed, sewed, washed, looked after the workers, and paid bills. Meanwhile, her husband, not caring about anything and constantly in a grumpy half-sleep, which he interrupted only to tell his wife unpleasant things, sat calmly by the fireplace, smoking a pipe and spitting into the ash.

Madame Bovary

The young doctor Charles Bovary first saw Emma Rouault when he was called to the farm of her father, who had broken his leg. Emma wore a blue wool dress with three frills. Her hair was black, combed smoothly in the front, parted in the middle, her cheeks were pink, her large black eyes were straight and open. Charles by this time was already married to an ugly and grumpy widow, whom his mother had arranged for him for a dowry. Father Rouault's fracture turned out to be minor, but Charles continued to go to the farm. The jealous wife found out that Mademoiselle Rouault studied at the Ursuline monastery, that she “dances, knows geography, draws, embroiders and plays the piano. No, this is too much! She tormented her husband with reproaches.

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However, Charles's wife soon died unexpectedly. And after some time he married Emma. The mother-in-law treated her new daughter-in-law coldly. Emma became Madame Bovary and moved to Charles's house in the town of Tost. She turned out to be a wonderful hostess. Charles idolized his wife. “The whole world closed for him within the silky girth of her dresses.” When, after work, he sat at the doorstep of the house in shoes embroidered by Emma, ​​he felt at the height of bliss. Emma, ​​unlike him, was full of confusion. Before the wedding, she believed that “that wonderful feeling that she had until now imagined in the form of a bird of paradise had finally flown to her,” but happiness did not come, and she decided that she was mistaken. At the monastery, she became addicted to reading novels; she wanted, like her favorite heroines, to live in an ancient castle and wait for a faithful knight. She grew up with a dream of strong and beautiful passions, but the reality in the outback was so prosaic! Charles was devoted to her, kind and hardworking, but there was not a shadow of heroism in him. His speech “was flat, like a panel along which a string of other people’s thoughts stretched in their everyday clothes. He taught nothing, knew nothing, wanted nothing.”

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One day something unusual invaded her life. The Bovarys received an invitation to a ball at the marquis's ancestral castle, for whom Charles successfully removed an abscess in his throat. Magnificent halls, distinguished guests, exquisite dishes, the smell of flowers, fine linen and truffles - in this atmosphere Emma experienced acute bliss. What especially excited her was that among the social crowd she could discern the currents of forbidden relationships and reprehensible pleasures. She waltzed with a real viscount, who then left for Paris itself! After dancing, her satin shoes turned yellow from the waxed parquet floor. “The same thing happened to her heart as with the shoes: from the touch with luxury, something indelible remained on it...” No matter how much Emma hoped for a new invitation, it did not come. Now she was completely fed up with life in Tost. “The future seemed to her like a dark corridor ending at a tightly locked door.” Melancholy took the form of illness, Emma was tormented by attacks of suffocation, palpitations, she developed a dry cough, nervousness gave way to apathy. Alarmed Charles explained her condition by the climate and began to look for a new place.

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In the spring, the Bovary couple moved to the town of Yonville near Rouen. Emma was already expecting a child by that time.

It was a region where “the speech is devoid of character, and the landscape is devoid of originality.” At the same hour, the wretched stagecoach “Swallow” stopped in the central square, and its coachman handed out bundles of shopping to the residents. At the same time, the whole city was making jam, stocking up for the year ahead. Everyone knew everything and gossiped about everything and everyone. The Bovarys were introduced into local society. He included the pharmacist Mr. Homais, whose face “expressed nothing but narcissism,” the textile merchant Mr. Leray, as well as a priest, a policeman, an innkeeper, a notary and several other persons. Against this background, twenty-year-old notary assistant Leon Dupuis stood out - blond, with curled eyelashes, timid and shy. He loved to read, painted watercolors, and played the piano with one finger. Emma Bovary captured his imagination. From the first conversation, they felt a kindred spirit in each other. Both loved to talk about the sublime and suffered from loneliness and boredom.

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Emma wanted a son, but a girl was born. She called her Bertha - she heard this name at the Marquis’s ball. They found a nurse for the girl. Life went on. Papa Rouault sent them turkeys in the spring. Sometimes the mother-in-law visited, reproaching her daughter-in-law for wastefulness. Only the company of Leon, whom Emma often met at parties at the pharmacist’s, brightened up her loneliness. The young man was already passionately in love with her, but did not know how to explain himself. “Emma seemed to him so virtuous, so unapproachable, that he no longer had a glimmer of hope.” He did not suspect that Emma, ​​in her heart, also passionately dreams of him. Finally, the notary's assistant left for Paris to continue his education. After his departure, Emma fell into black melancholy and despair. She was torn by bitterness and regret about the failed happiness. To somehow unwind, she bought some new clothes at Lere’s shop. She had used his services before. Leray was a clever, flattering and cunning man like a cat. He had long ago guessed Emma's passion for beautiful things and willingly offered her purchases on credit, sending her cuts, lace, carpets, scarves. Gradually, Emma found herself in a considerable debt to the shopkeeper, which her husband did not suspect.

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One day, landowner Rodolphe Boulanger came to see Charles. He himself was as healthy as a bull, and he brought his servant for an examination. He liked Emma immediately. Unlike the timid Leon, the thirty-four-year-old bachelor Rodolphe was experienced in relationships with women and self-confident. He found his way to Emma's heart through vague complaints of loneliness and misunderstanding. After some time, she became his mistress. This happened on a horseback ride, which Rodolphe suggested as a means to improve Madame Bovary’s failing health. Emma gave herself up to Rodolphe in a forest hut, limply, “hiding her face, all in tears.” However, then passion flared up in her, and intoxicatingly daring dates became the meaning of her life. She attributed to the tanned, strong Rodolphe the heroic traits of her imaginary ideal. She demanded from him vows of eternal love and self-sacrifice. Her feeling needed a romantic frame. She stocked the outbuilding where they met at night with vases of flowers. She gave Rodolphe expensive gifts, which she bought all from the same Leray secretly from her husband.

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The more attached Emma became, the more Rodolphe cooled off towards her. She touched him, the flighty one, with her purity and simplicity. But most of all he valued his own peace. His relationship with Emma could have damaged his reputation. And she behaved too recklessly. And Rodolphe increasingly made comments to her about this. One day he missed three dates in a row. Emma's pride was hurt. “She even began to think: why does she hate Charles so much and isn’t it better to try to love him? But Charles did not appreciate this return of her former feeling, her sacrificial impulse was broken, this plunged her into complete confusion, and then the pharmacist turned up and accidentally added fuel to the fire.”

The pharmacist Homais was considered a champion of progress in Yonville. He followed new trends and even published in the newspaper “Light of Rouen”. This time he was overcome by the thought of carrying out a newfangled operation in Yonville, which he had read about in a laudatory article. With this idea, Homais pressed Charles, persuading him and Emma that they were not risking anything. They also chose a victim - a groom who had a congenital curvature of the foot. A whole conspiracy formed around the unfortunate man, and in the end he surrendered. After the operation, excited Emma met Charles on the threshold and threw herself on his neck. In the evening the couple were busy making plans. And five days later the groom began to die. He developed gangrene. I had to urgently call a “local celebrity” - a doctor who called everyone dumbasses and cut off the patient’s leg at the knee. Charles was in despair, and Emma was burning with shame. The heartbreaking screams of the poor groom were heard by the whole city. She was once again convinced that her husband was mediocrity and insignificance. That evening she met Rodolphe, “and with a hot kiss all their annoyance melted away like a snowball.”

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She began to dream of leaving with Rodolphe forever, and finally started talking about it seriously - after a quarrel with her mother-in-law, who came to visit. She insisted so much, begged so much that Rodolphe retreated and gave his word to fulfill her request. A plan was drawn up. Emma was preparing to escape with all her might. She secretly ordered a raincoat, suitcases and various small items for the trip from Lera. But a blow awaited her: on the eve of departure, Rodolphe changed his mind about taking on such a burden. He firmly decided to break up with Emma and sent her a farewell letter in a basket of apricots. In it he also announced that he was leaving for a while.

...For forty-three days, Charles did not leave Emma, ​​who began to have inflammation of the brain. Only by spring she felt better. Now Emma was indifferent to everything in the world. She became interested in charity work and turned to God. It seemed that nothing could revive her. The famous tenor was touring in Rouen at that time. And Charles, on the advice of the pharmacist, decided to take his wife to the theater.

Emma listened to the opera “Lucia de Lamermoor”, forgetting about everything. The heroine’s experiences seemed similar to her torment. She remembered her own wedding. “Oh, if only at that time, when her beauty had not yet lost its original freshness, when the dirt of married life had not yet stuck to her, when she had not yet become disillusioned with forbidden love, someone had given her his big, faithful heart, then virtue, tenderness, desire and a sense of duty would have merged in her and she would never have fallen from the heights of such happiness. And during the intermission, an unexpected meeting with Leon awaited her. He now practiced in Rouen. They haven't seen each other for three years and have forgotten each other. Leon was no longer the same timid young man. “He decided that it was time to get together with this woman,” convinced Madame Bovary to stay another day to listen to Lagardie again. Charles warmly supported him and left for Yonville alone.

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...Again Emma was loved, again she mercilessly deceived her husband and wasted money. Every Thursday she went to Rouen, where she allegedly took music lessons, and she met Leon at the hotel. Now she acted as a sophisticated woman, and Leon was completely in her power. Meanwhile, the cunning Leray began to persistently remind him of his debts. A huge amount has accumulated on signed bills. Bovary was threatened with an inventory of property. The horror of such an outcome was unimaginable. Emma rushed to Leon, but her lover was cowardly and cowardly. It already frightened him enough that Emma came straight to his office too often. And he didn't help her at all. She also found no sympathy from either the notary or the tax inspector. Then it dawned on her - Rodolphe! After all, he returned to his estate a long time ago. And he's rich. But her former hero, at first pleasantly surprised by her appearance, coldly declared: “I don’t have that kind of money, madam.”

Emma left him, feeling like she was going crazy. With difficulty she made her way to the pharmacy, sneaked upstairs where the poisons were stored, found a jar of arsenic and immediately swallowed the powder...

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She died a few days later in terrible agony. Charles could not believe her death. He was completely ruined and heartbroken. The final blow for him was that he found letters from Rodolphe and Leon. Degraded, overgrown, unkempt, he wandered along the paths and cried bitterly. Soon he also died, right on a bench in the garden, clutching a lock of Emma’s hair in his hand. Little Bertha was first taken in by Charles's mother, and after her death by her elderly aunt. Papa Ruo was paralyzed. Bertha had no money left, and she was forced to go to the spinning factory.

Leon married successfully shortly after Emma's death. Leray opened a new store. The pharmacist received the Order of the Legion of Honor, which he had long dreamed of. They all did very well.