the nabob-第2章

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him　during　the　late　sixties　and　early　seventies。　Here　again　little　in　the　way　of　comment　need　be　given；　and　that　little　can　express　the　general　verdict　that　the　art　displayed　in　these　miniature　productions　is　not　far　short　of　perfect。　The　two　principal　collections；　/Lettres　de　mon　Moulin/　and　/Contes　du　Lundi/；　together　with　/Artists'　Wives　（Les　Femmes　d'Artistes）/　and　parts　at　least　of　/Robert　Helmont/；　would　almost　of　themselves　suffice　to　put　Daudet　high　in　the　ranks　of　the　writers　who　charm　without　leaving　upon　one's　mind　the　slightest　suspicion　that　they　are　weak。　It　is　true　that　Daudet's　stories　do　not　attain　the　tremendous　impressiveness　that　Balzac's　occasionally　do；　as；　for　example；　in　/La　Grande　Breteche/；　nor　has　his　clear…cut　art　the　almost　disconcerting　firmness；　the　surgeon…like　quality　of　Maupassant's；　but　the　author　of　the　ironical　/Elixir　of　Father　Gaucher/　and　of　the　pathetic　/Last　Class/；　to　name　no　others；　could　certainly　claim　with　Musset　that　his　glass　was　his　own；　and　had　no　reason　to　concede　its　smallness。

As　we　have　seen；　the　production　of　/Fromont　jeune　et　Risler　aine/　marked　the　beginning　of　Daudet's　more　than　twenty　years　of　successful　novel…writing。　His　first　elaborate　study　of　Parisian　life；　while　it　indicated　no　advance　of　the　art　of　fiction；　deserved　its　popularity　because；　in　spite　of　the　many　criticisms　to　which　it　was　open；　it　was　a　thoroughly　readable　and　often　a　moving　book。　One　character；　Delobelle；　the　played…out　actor　who　is　still　a　hero　to　his　pathetic　wife　and　daughter；　was　constructed　on　effective　lineswas　a　personage　worthy　of　Dickens。　The　vile　heroine；　Sidonie；　was　bad　enough　to　excite　disgusted　interest；　but；　as　Mr。　Henry　James　pointed　out　later；　she　was　not　effective　to　the　extent　her　creator　doubtless　hoped。　She　paled　beside　Valerie　Marneffe；　though；　to　be　sure；　Daudet　knew　better　than　to　attempt　to　depict　any　such　queen　of　vice。　Yet；　after　all；　it　is　mainly　the　compelling　power　of　vile　heroines　that　makes　them　tolerable；　and　neither　Sidonie　nor　the　web　of　intrigue　she　wove　can　fairly　be　said　to　be　characterized　by　extraordinary　strength。　But　the　public　was　and　is　interested　greatly　by　the　novel；　and　Daudet　deserved　the　fame　and　money　it　brought　him。　His　next　book；　/Jack/；　was　not　so　popular。　Still；　it　showed　artistic　improvement；　although；　as　in　its　predecessor；　that　bias　towards　the　sentimental；　which　was　to　be　Daudet's　besetting　weakness；　was　too　plainly　visible。　Its　author　took　to　his　heart　a　book　which　the　general　reader　found　too　long　and　perhaps　overpathetic。　Some　of　us；　while　recognising　its　faults；　will　share　in　part　Daudet's　predilection　for　itnot　so　much　because　of　the　strong　and　early　study　made　of　the　artisan　class；　or　of　the　mordantly　satirical　exposure　of　D'Argenton　and　his　literary　〃dead…beats〃　（/rates/）；　or　of　any　other　of　the　special　features　of　a　story　that　is　crowded　with　them；　as　because　the　ill…fated　hero；　the　product　of　genuine　emotions　on　Daudet's　part；　excites　cognate　and　equally　genuine　emotions　in　us。　We　cannot　watch　the　throbbing　engines　of　a　great　steamship　without　seeing　Jack　at　work　among　them。　But　the　fine；　pathetic　/Jack/　brings　us　to　the　finer；　more　pathetic　/Nabob/。

Whether　/The　Nabob/　is　Daudet's　greatest　novel　is　a　question　that　may　be　postponed；　but　it　may　be　safely　asserted　that　there　are　good　reasons　why　it　should　have　been　chosen　to　represent　Daudet　in　the　present　series。　It　has　been　immensely　popular；　and　thus　does　not　illustrate　merely　the　taste　of　an　inner　circle　of　its　author's　admirers。　It　is　not　so　subtle　a　study　of　character　as　/Numa　Roumestan/；　nor　is　it　a　drama　the　scene　of　which　is　set　somewhat　in　a　corner　removed　from　the　world's　scrutiny　and　full　comprehension；　as　is　more　or　less　the　case　with　/Kings　in　Exile/。　It　is　comparatively　unamenable　to　the　moral；　or；　if　one　will；　the　puritanical；　objections　so　naturally　brought　against　/Sapho/。　It　obviously　represents　Daudet's　powers　better　than　any　novel　written　after　his　health　was　permanently　wrecked；　and　as　obviously　represents　fiction　more　adequately　than　either　of　the　Tartarin　masterpieces；　which　belong　rather　to　the　literature　of　humour。　Besides；　it　is　probably　the　most　broadly　effective　of　all　Daudet's　novels；　it　is　fuller　of　striking　scenes；　and　as　a　picture　of　life　in　the　picturesque　Second　Empire　it　is　of　unique　importance。

Perhaps　to　many　readers　this　last　reason　will　seem　the　best　of　all。　However　much　we　may　moralize　about　its　baseness　and　hollowness；　whether　with　the　Hugo　of　/Les　Chatiments/　we　scorn　and　vituperate　its　charlatan　head　or　pity　him　profoundly　as　we　see　him　ill　and　helpless　in　Zola's　/Debacle/；　most　of　us；　if　we　are　candid；　will　confess　that　the　Second　Empire；　especially　the　Paris　of　Morny　and　Hausmann；　of　cynicism　and　splendour；　of　frivolity　and　chicane；　of　servile　obsequiousness　and　haughty　pretension；　the　France　and　the　Paris　that　drew　to　themselves　the　eyes　of　all　Europe　and　particularly　the　eyes　of　the　watchful　Bismarck；　have　for　us　a　fascination　almost　as　great　as　they　had　for　the　gay　and　audacious　men　and　women　who　in　them　courted　fortune　and　chased　pleasure　from　the　morrow　of　the　/Coup　d'Etat/　to　the　eve　of　Sedan。　A　nearly　equal　fascination　is　exerted　upon　us　by　a　book　which　is　the　best　sort　of　historical　novel；　since　it　is　the　product　of　its　author's　observation；　not　of　his　readinga　story　that　sets　vividly　before　us　the　political　corruption；　the　financial　recklessness；　the　social　turmoil；　the　public　ostentation；　the　private　squalor；　that　led　to　the　downfall　of　an　empire　and　almost　to　that　of　a　people。

Daudet　drew　on　his　experiences；　and　on　the　notes　he　was　always　accumulating；　more　strenuously　than　he　should　have　done。　He　assures　us　that　he　laboured　over　/The　Nabob/　for　eight　months；　mainly　in　his　bed…　room；　sometimes　working　eighteen　consecutive　hours；　often　waking　from　restless　sleep　with　a　sentence　on　his　lips。　Yet；　such　is　the　irony　of　literary　history；　the　novel　is　loosely　enough　put　together　to　have　been　written；　one　might　suppose；　in　bursts　of　inspiration　or　else　more　or　less　methodicallyalmost　with　the　intention；　as　Mr。　James　has　noted；　of　including　every　striking　phase　of　Parisian　life。　For　it　is　a　series　of　brilliant；　effective　episodes　and　scenes；　not　a　closely　knit　drama。　Jenkins's　visit　to　Monpavon　at　his　toilet；　the　/dejeuner/　at　the　Nabob's；　the　inspection　of　the　OEuvre　de　Bethleemwhich　would　have　delighted　Dickensthe　collapse　of　the　fetes　of　the　Bey；　the　Nabob's　thrashing　Moessard；　the　death　of　Mora；　Felicia's　attempt　to　escape　the　funeral　of　the　duke；　the　interview　between　the　Nabob　and　Hemerlingue；　the　baiting　in　the　Chamber；　the　suicide　of　that　supreme　man　of　tone；　Monpavon；　the　Nabob's　apoplectic　seizure　in　the　theatrethese　and　many　other　scenes　and　episodes；　together　with　descriptions　and　touches；　stand　out　in　our　memories　more　distinctly　and　impressively　than　the　characters　doperhaps　more　so　than　does　the　central　motive；　the　outrageous　exploitation　of　the　naive　hero。　For　from　the　beginning　of　his　career　to　the　end　Daudet's　eye；　like　that　of　a　genuine　but　not　supereminent　poet；　was　chiefly　attracted　by　colour；　movement；　effective　posein　other　words；　by　the　surfaces　of　things。　One　may　almost　say　that　he　was　more　of　a　landscape　engineer　than　of　an　architect　and　builder；　although　one　must　at　once　add　that　he　could　and　did　erect　solid　structures。　But　the　reader　at　least　helps　greatly　to　lay　the　foundations；　for；　to　drop　the　metaphor；　Daudet　relied　largely　on　suggestion；　contenting　himself　with　the　belief　that　a　capable　imagination　could　fill　up　the　gaps　he　left　in　plot　and　character　analysis。　Thus；　for　example；　he　indicated　and　suggested　rather　than　detailed　the　way　in　which　Hemerlingue　finally　triumphed　over　the　Nabob；　Jansoulet。　To　use　another　figure；　he　drew　the　spider；　the　fly；　and　a　few　strands　of　the　web。　The　Balzac　whose　bust　looked　satirically　down　upon　the　two　adventurers　in　Pere　la　Chaise　would　probably　have　given　us　the　whole　web。　This　is　not　quite　to　say　that　Daudet　is　plausible；　Balzac　inevitable；　but　rather　that　we　stroll　with　the　former　master　and　follow　submissively　in　the　footsteps　of　the　latter。　Yet　a　caveat　is　needed；　for　the　intense　interest　we　take　in　the　characters　of　a　novel　like　/The　Nabob/　scarcely　sugges