the nabob-第1节

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The　Nabob

by　Alphonse　Daudet

Translated　by　W。　Blaydes





INTRODUCTION

Daudet　once　remarked　that　England　was　the　last　of　foreign　countries　to　welcome　his　novels；　and　that　he　was　surprised　at　the　fact；　since　for　him；　as　for　the　typical　Englishman；　the　intimacy　of　home　life　had　great　significance。　However　long　he　may　have　taken　to　win　Anglo…Saxon　hearts；　there　is　no　question　that　he　finally　won　them　more　completely　than　any　other　contemporary　French　novelist　was　able　to　do；　and　that　when　but　a　few　years　since　the　news　came　that　death　had　released　him　from　his　sufferings；　thousands　of　men　and　women；　both　in　England　and　in　America；　felt　that　they　had　lost　a　real　friend。　Just　at　the　present　moment　one　does　not　hear　or　read　a　great　deal　about　him；　but　a　similar　lull　in　criticism　follows　the　deaths　of　most　celebrities　of　whatever　kind；　and　it　can　scarcely　be　doubted　that　Daudet　is　every　day　making　new　friends；　while　it　is　as　sure　as　anything　of　the　sort　can　be　that　it　is　death；　not　estrangement；　that　has　lessened　the　number　of　his　former　admirers。

〃Admirers〃？　The　word　is　much　too　cold。　〃Lovers〃　would　serve　better；　but　is　perhaps　too　expansive　to　be　used　of　a　self…contained　race。　〃Friends〃　is　more　appropriate　because　heartier；　for　hearty　the　relations　between　Daudet　and　his　Anglo…Saxon　readers　certainly　were。　Whether　it　was　that　some　of　us　saw　in　him　that　hitherto　unguessed…at　phenomenon；　a　French　Dickensnot　an　imitator；　indeed；　but　a　kindred　spiritor　that　others　found　in　him　a　refined；　a　volatilized　〃Mark　Twain；〃　with　a　flavour　of　Cervantes；　or　that　still　others　welcomed　him　as　a　writer　of　naturalistic　fiction　that　did　not　revolt；　or　finally　that　most　of　us　enjoyed　him　because　whatever　he　wrote　was　as　steeped　in　the　radiance　of　his　own　exquisitely　charming　personality　as　a　picture　of　Corot's　is　in　the　light　of　the　sun　itselfwhatever　may　have　been　the　reason；　Alphonse　Daudet　could　count　before　he　died　thousands　of　genuine　friends　in　England　and　America　who　were　loyal　to　him　in　spite　of　the　declining　power　shown　in　his　latest　books；　in　spite　even　of　the　strain　which　/Sapho/　laid　upon　their　Puritan　consciences。

It　is　likely　that　a　majority　of　these　friends　were　won　by　the　two　great　Tartarin　books　and　by　the　chief　novels；　/Fromont/；　/Jack/；　/The　Nabob/；　/Kings　in　Exile/；　and　/Numa/；　aided　by　the　artistic　sketches　and　short　stories　contained　in　/Letters　from　my　Mill/　and　/Monday　Tales　（Contes　du　Lundi）/。　The　strong　but　overwrought　/Evangelist/；　/Sapho/which　of　course　belongs　with　the　chief　novels　from　the　Continental　but　not　from　the　insular　point　of　viewand　the　books　of　Daudet's　decadence；　/The　Immortal/；　and　the　rest；　cost　him　few　friendships；　but　scarcely　gained　him　many。　His　delightful　essays　in　autobiography；　whether　in　fiction；　/Le　Petit　Chose　（Little　What's…his…　Name）/；　or　in　/Thirty　Years　of　Paris/　and　/Souvenirs　of　a　Man　of　Letters/；　doubtless　sealed　more　friendships　than　they　made；　but　they　can　be　almost　as　safely　recommended　as　the　more　notable　novels　to　readers　who　have　yet　to　make　Daudet's　acquaintance。

For　the　man　and　his　career　are　as　unaffectedly　charming　as　his　style；　and　more　of　a　piece　than　his　elaborate　works　of　fiction。　A　sunny　Provencal　childhood　is　clouded　by　family　misfortunes；　then　comes　a　year　of　wretched　slavery　as　usher　in　a　provincial　school；　then　the　inevitable　journey　to　Paris　with　a　brain　full　of　verses　and　dreams；　and　the　beginning　of　a　life　of　Bohemian　nonchalance；　to　which　we　Anglo…Saxons　have　little　that　is　comparable　outside　the　career　of　Oliver　Goldsmith。　But　poor　Goldsmith　had　his　pride　wounded　by　the　editorial　tyranny　of　a　Mrs。　Griffiths。　Daudet；　by　a　merely　pretty　poem　about　a　youth　and　maiden　making　love　under　a　plum…tree；　won　the　protection　of　the　Empress　Eugenie；　and　through　her　of　the　Duke　de　Morny；　the　prop　of　the　Second　Empire。　His　life　now　reads　like　a　fairy…　tale　inserted　by　some　jocular　elf　into　that　book　of　dolors　entitled　/The　Lives　of　Men　of　Genius/。　A　/protege/　of　a　potentate　not　usually　lavish　of　his　favours；　and　a　valetudinarian；　he　is　allowed　to　flit　to　Algiers　and　Corsica；　to　enjoy　his　beloved　Provence　in　company　with　Mistral；　to　write　for　the　theatres；　and　to　continue　to　play　the　Bohemian。　Then　the　death　of　Morny　seems　to　turn　the　idyl　into　a　tragedy；　but　only　for　a　moment。　Daudet's　delicate；　nervous　beauty　made　his　friend　Zola　think　of　an　Arabian　horse；　but　the　poet　had　also　the　spirit　of　such　a　high…bred　steed。　Years　of　conscientious　literary　labour　followed；　cheered　by　marriage　with　a　woman　of　genius　capable　of　supplementing　him　in　his　weakest　points；　and　then　the　war　with　Prussia　and　its　attendant　horrors　gave　him　the　larger　and　deeper　view　of　life　and　the　intensified　patriotismin　short；　the　final　stimulus　he　needed。　From　the　date　of　his　first　great　success/Fromont；　Jr。；　and　Risler；　Sr。/glory　and　wealth　flowed　in　upon　him；　while　envy　scarcely　touched　him；　so　unspoiled　was　he　and　so　continuously　and　eminently　lovable。　One　seemed　to　see　in　his　career　a　reflection　of　his　luminous　nature；　a　revised　myth　of　the　golden　touch；　a　new　version　of　the　fairy…tale　of　the　fair　mouth　dropping　pearls。　Then；　as　though　grown　weary　of　the　idyllic　romance　she　was　composing；　Fortune　donned　the　tragic　robes　of　Nemesis。　Years　of　pain　followed；　which　could　not　abate　the　spirits　or　disturb　the　geniality　of　the　sufferer；　but　did　somewhat　abate　the　power　and　disturb　the　serenity　of　his　work。　Then　came　the　inevitable　end　of　all　life　dramas；　whether　comic　or　romantic　or　tragic；　and　friends　who　had　known　him　stood　round　his　grave　and　listened　sadly　to　the　touching　words　in　which　Emile　Zola　expressed　not　merely　his　own　grief　but　that　of　many　thousands　throughout　the　civilized　world。　Here　was　a　life　more　winsome；　more　appealing；　more　complete　than　any　creation　of　the　genius　of　the　man　that　lived　ita　life　which；　whether　we　know　it　in　detail　or　not；　explains　in　part　the　fascination　Daudet　exerts　upon　us　and　the　conviction　we　cherish　that；　whatever　ravages　time　may　make　among　his　books；　the　memory　of　their　writer　will　not　fade　from　the　hearts　of　men。　Many　Frenchmen　have　conquered　the　world's　mind　by　the　power　or　the　subtlety　of　their　genius；　few　have　won　its　heart　through　the　catholicity；　the　broad　sympathy　of　their　genius。　Daudet　is　one　of　these　few；　indeed；　he　is　almost　if　not　quite　the　only　European　writer　who　has　of　late　achieved　such　a　triumph；　for　Tolstoi　has　stern　critics　as　well　as　steadfast　devotees；　and　has　won　most　of　his　disciples　as　moralist　and　reformer。　But　we　must　turn　from　Daudet　the　man　to　Daudet　the　author　of　/The　Nabob/　and　other　memorable　novels。

If　this　were　a　general　essay　and　not　an　introduction；　it　would　be　proper　to　say　something　of　Daudet's　early　attempts　as　poet　and　dramatist。　Here　it　need　only　be　remarked　that　it　is　almost　a　commonplace　to　insist　that　even　in　his　later　novels　he　never　entirely　ceased　to　see　the　outer　world　with　the　eyes　of　a　poet；　to　delight　in　colour　and　movement；　to　seize　every　opportunity　to　indulge　in　vivid　description　couched　in　a　style　more　swift　and　brilliant　than　normal　prose　aspires　to。　This　bent　for　description；　together　with　the　tendency　to　episodic　rather　than　sustained　composition　and　the　comparative　weakness　of　his　character　drawingfeatures　of　his　work　shortly　to　be　discussedpartly　explains　his　failure；　save　in　one　or　two　instances；　to　score　a　real　triumph　with　his　plays；　but　does　not　explain　his　singular　lack　of　sympathy　with　actors。　Nor　was　he　able　to　win　great　success　with　his　first　book　of　importance；　/Le　Petit　Chose/；　delightful　as　that　mixture　of　autobiography　and　romance　must　prove　to　any　sympathetic　reader。　He　was　essentially　a　romanticist　and　a　poet　cast　upon　an　age　of　naturalism　and　prose；　and　he　needed　years　of　training　and　such　experience　as　the　Prussian　invasion　gave　him　to　adjust　himself　to　his　life…work。　Such　adjustment　was　not　needed　for　/Tartarin　de　Tarascon/；　begun　shortly　after　/Le　Petit　Chose/；　because　subtle　humour　of　the　kind　lavished　in　that　inimitable　creation　and　in　its　sequels；　while　implying　observation；　does　not　necessarily　imply　any　marked　departure　from　the　romantic　and　poetic　points　of　view。

The　training　Daudet　required　for　his　novels　he　got　from　the　sketches　and　short　stories　that　occupied　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　con