Tartarin de Tarascon - Alphonse Daudet
TARTARIN DE TARASCON
PAR
ALPHONSE DAUDET
WITH INTRODUCTION, NOTES, AND EXERCISES
BY
BARRY CERF
ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR OF ROMANCE LANGUAGES IN
THE UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN
PREFACE
The test of this edition is reprinted without alteration from that of the
"Collection Guillaume" (E. Flammarion, Paris, publisher).
"Tartarin de Tarascon" should be read by high-school students at the end
of their second or in their third year and by college students at the end
of the first or in the second year.
It is with great pleasure that I express my indebtedness for many
suggestions to my friend Professor W.F. Giese of the University of
Wisconsin.
B.C.
MADISON, WISCONSIN
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
TEXT
PREMIER EPISODE: A TARASCON
I. Le jardin du baobab.
II. Coup d'oeil general jete sur la bonne ville de Tarascon; les
chasseurs de Casquettes.
III. Nan! nan! nan! Suite du coup d'oeil general jete sur la bonne ville
de Tarascon.
IV. Ils!!!
V. Quand Tartarin de Tarascon allait au cercle.
VI. Les deux Tartarins.
VII. Les Europeens a Shang-hai. Le Haut Commerce. Les Tartares. Tartarin
de Tarascon serait-il un imposteur? Le mirage.
VIII. La menagerie Mitaine. Un lion de l'Atlas a Tarascon. Terrible et
solennelle entrevue!
IX. Singuliers effets du mirage.
X. Avant le depart.
XI. Des coups d'epee, messieurs, des coups d'epee, mais pas de coups
d'epingle!
XII. De ce qui fut dit dans la petite maison du baobab.
XIII. Le depart.
XIV. Le port de Marseille. Embarque! embarque!
DEUXIEME EPISODE CHEZ LES TEURS
I. La traversee. Les cinq positions de la chechia. Le soir du
troisieme jour. Misericorde!
II. Aux armes! aux armes!
III. Invocation a Cervantes. Debarquement. Ou sont les Teurs? Pas de
Teurs.
Desillusion.
IV. Le premier affut.
V. Pan! Pan!
VI. Arrivee de la femelle. Terrible combat. Le Rendez-vous des Lapins.
VII. Histoire d'un omnibus, d'une Mauresque et d'un chapelet de fleurs
De Jasmin.
VIII. Lions de l'Atlas, dormez!
IX. Le prince Gregory du Montenegro.
X. Dis-moi le nom de ton pere, et je te dirai le nom de cette fleur.
XI. Sidi Tart'ri ben Tart'ri.
XII. On nous ecrit de Tarascon.
TROISIEME EPISODE: CHEZ LES LIONS
I. Les diligences deportees.
II. Ou l'on voit passer un petit monsieur.
III. Un couvent de lions.
IV. La caravane en marche.
V. L'affut du soir dans un bois de lauriers-roses.
VI. Enfin!
VII. Catastrophes sur catastrophes.
VIII. Tarascon! Tarascon!
NOTES
EXERCISES
INTRODUCTION
ALPHONSE DAUDET
(_Nimes, May 13, 1840; Paris, December 16, 1897_)
Alphonse Daudet was born in the ancient Provencal city of Nimes, near the
Rhone, May 13, 1840. In this same year Emile Zola, destined like Daudet to
pass his youth in Provence, was born at Paris.
As a result of the commercial upheaval which attended the revolution of
1848, Daudet's father, a wealthy silk manufacturer, was ruined. After a
hard struggle he was forced to give up his business at Nimes and moved to
Lyons (1849). He was not successful here, and finally, in 1856, the family
was broken up. The sons now had to shift for themselves.
These first sixteen years of Alphonse Daudet's life were far from unhappy.
He had found delight in exploring the abandoned factory at Nimes. His
school days at Lyons were equally agreeable to the young vagabond. His
studies occupied him little; he loved to wander through the streets of the
great city, finding everywhere food for fanciful speculation. He would
follow a person he did not know, scrutinizing his every movement, and
striving to lose his own identity in that of the other, to live the
other's life. His frequent days of truancy he spent in these idle rambles,
or in drifting down the river. Literary ambition had already seized him;
he had written a novel (of which no trace remains) and numerous verses.
Notwithstanding his lack of application to study, he had succeeded in
completing the course of the _lycee_.
In 1856 when it became certain that the father could no longer care for
the family, the mother and daughter took refuge in the home of relatives;
Ernest, the older of the two surviving sons, sought his fortune in the
literary circles of Paris; and Alphonse accepted a position as "master of
the study hall" (_maitre d'etudes, pion_) at the college of Alais in the
Cevennes. The boy was too young, too delicate, and too sensitive to be
able to endure the mental suffering and humiliation to which he was
subjected at the hands of the bullies of this school.[1] After a year of
martyrdom he set out on his terrible journey to Paris. Here he was
welcomed by his brother Ernest.
[Footnote 1: See "Le Petit Chose," "Little What's-His-Name."]
The two brothers had always felt and always continued to feel the closest
sympathy for each other. Ernest believed in Alphonse's genius more than in
his own, and bestowed on his younger brother the motherly devotion which
Alphonse so gratefully and tenderly acknowledges in "Le Petit Chose," his
romantic autobiography, where Ernest appears as "ma mere Jacques."
The first years in Paris were the darkest in the brothers' lives. They
could earn scarcely enough to satisfy their most pressing needs, but both
were happy, since they were in Paris. Before Alphonse's arrival Ernest had
secured regular employment on a newspaper. Alphonse was longing for
recognition as a poet, but to earn his living he was forced to turn to
prose. His contributions to _Le Figaro_ and other newspapers soon made him
known. He wrote little and carefully, nor did he forget his literary
ideals even when poverty might have excused hurried productions in the
style best calculated to sell. His literary conscience was as strong under
the trying circumstances of his debut as later when success brought
independence.[2]
[Footnote 2: See E. Daudet, "_Mon Frere et moi_," pp. 151-152. Daudet
frequently says of himself that he was by nature an improviser, that the
labor of meticulous composition to which he forced himself was a torture,
yet he remained always true to his ideal.]
During this period he lived among the Bohemians of the Parisian world of
letters; but, though he shared their joys and sorrows, he seems to have
emerged unscathed from the dangers of such an existence. Zola met Daudet
at this time and has left us an attractive picture of him: "He was in the
employ of a successful newspaper, he used to bring in his article, receive
his remuneration, and disappear with the nonchalance of a young god, sunk
in poetry, far from the petty cares of this world. He was living, I think,
outside of the city, in a remote corner with other poets, a band of joyous
Bohemians. He was beautiful, with the delicate, nervous beauty of an
Arabian horse, an ample mane, a silky divided beard, large eyes, a thin
nose, a passionate mouth, and, to crown all that, a certain flash of
light, a breath of tender voluptuousness, which bathed his whole face in a
smile that was both roguish and sensual. There was in him something of the
Parisian Street gamin and something of the Oriental woman."[1]
[Footnote 1: "Les Romanciers naturalistes," pp. 256-257.]
Daudet's first volume was a collection of verse, "Les Amoureuses" (1858,
published by Tardieu, a Provencal). These simple poems are charming in
their freshness and naivete, and established Daudet's reputation as a
writer of light verse. The whole volume, and especially "Les Prunes,"
attracted the attention of the Empress Eugenie. At her solicitation Daudet
was made one of the secretaries of the powerful Duke of Morny, president
of the _corps legislatif_ (1860). His duties were purely nominal. He now
had money enough to keep the wolf from his door and was free to devote
himself to literature.
It was at this time that the stage began to attract him. His first play,
"La Derniere Idole," was produced at the Odeon in 1862. Almost every other
year between 1862 and 1892 a new play, on untried themes, or adapted from
one of his novels and usually written in collaboration, appeared at a
Parisian theater. Of all these only one, "L'Arlesienne" (1872), is worthy
of its author.
Already in 1859, as a result of the suffering of the preceding years and
lack of precautions, his health had begun to fail. He spent the winters of
1861-1864 in Algeria, Corsica, and Provence. These voyages were of vital
importance in his development. He learned something of the world and
became better fitted to study conditions in his own narrow sphere; at the
same time he acquired the power of vigorous description and collected
material for some of his finest short stories and for the Tartarin series.
A portion of the summer of 1861 he dreamed away in an abandoned mill[1]
near Fontvieille, between Tarascon and Arles. From here he sent to the
Parisian newspapers _L'Evenement_ and _Le Figaro_ those delightful stories
and sketches which were gathered and published in 1869 under the title
"Lettres de mon moulin." Of all the many volumes of Daudet's collected
works this is the most satisfying: it is here that the distinctive
products of his genius are to be sought; and it is on these stories, with
a few from later collections, and on "Tartarin de Tarascon," that his
claim to immortality will finally rest. It is here that we find several of
his most excellent stories: "Le Secret de maitre Cornille", "La Chevre de
M. Seguin", "La Mule du pape", "Le Cure de Cucugnan", "L'Elixir du
reverend pere Gaucher" and others.
[Footnote 1: Daudet did not live in the mill which he has made famous, but
he spent there "de longues journees"; he never owned it, but the deed
which serves so picturesquely as preface to his book is not entirely
apocryphal. See "Trente Ans de Paris," p. 164.]
In 1865, at the death of Morny, he gave up his secretaryship and applied
himself exclusively to literature.
In 1866 he met Julie Allard, and early the next year they were married. To
his wife, a lady of exquisite taste, Daudet owed unfailing encouragement
and competent, sympathetic criticism.
"Le Petit Chose," his first long work, had been begun in 1866 during his
stay in Provence; it was published in 1868. The first part, which is of
great interest, is largely autobiographical and covers the childhood and
youth of the writer up to his first years in Paris; the second part is a
colorless romance of no particular merit. Daudet himself confessed that
the work had been written too soon and with too little reflection. "I wish
I had waited," he said; "something good might have been written on my
youth".[1]
[Footnote 1: See "Trente Ans de Paris," pp. 75, 85, and Sherard, "Alphonse
Daudet," p. 301.]
"Tartarin de Tarascon" was written in 1869.
Success and happiness had crowned Daudet's efforts. He was spending his
time in all tranquility, now at Paris, now at Champrosay, where he
occupied the house of the painter Delacroix. Suddenly in July, 1870, the
war cloud burst. Daudet lay stretched out on his bed fretfully nursing a
broken leg. On his recovery he shouldered his gun and joined in the
hopeless defense of Paris.
It was the war that killed the old Daudet and brought into existence the
new. Before the war, Daudet himself confesses it, he had lived free from
care, singing and trifling, heedless of the vexing problems of society and
the world, his heart aglow with the fire of the sun of his native
Provence. The war awakened in our sensitive poet a seriousness of purpose
which harmonized but little with his native genius. Among his friends he
never lost his old-time buoyant gaiety; but his works from now on show
only a trace of it. The charming "Belle-Nivernaise" (1886), a few
"tarasconades," a gleam here and there in all his works, remind us of our
old friend and plead for our sympathy with the new.
During the next few years he added to his reputation as a writer of short
stories; to this period belong several collections of tales and sketches:
"Lettres a un absent" (1871), "Contes du lundi" (1873), "Les Femmes
d'artistes" (1874), "Robert Helmont" (1874). A few of the stories are
still more or less in the manner of the "Lettres de mon moulin" ("Le Pape
est mort," "Un Reveillon dans le marais," "Les Emotions d'un perdreau
rouge"), but all these volumes, except "Les Femmes d'artistes," are
inspired by the war. The playfulness of the youthful Daudet is still
apparent here and there in the war stories ("La Pendule de Bougival," "Les
Petits Pates"), but a sterner tone is prevalent.
The great novels which now follow are the fruit of meditation, the
ripening process which the war precipitated, and which was fed from the
flame of Flaubert, Goncourt, Zola, and others. Neglecting almost entirely
those elements of his genius which came to him as his birthright, he
devotes himself henceforth to a study of the problems of life. Our
Provencal cicada has a purpose now: nothing else than the reformation of
all social abuses. He does not single out one and attack it time after
time, but he springs restlessly from one to another, directing high and
low his relentless inquiry.
"Fromont jeune et Risler aine" (1874) is the first of Daudet's great
novels and one of his strongest studies. Sidonie, the daughter of humble
bourgeois parents, is filled with a longing for luxury and social
prominence. She succeeds in becoming the wife of Fromont, a simple, honest
workman whose talent and industry have brought him wealth. Sidonie's
unscrupulousness in the pursuit of her object spreads ruin. Risler, the
partner of Fromont, withdraws large sums from the common treasury to
satisfy the extravagant desires of Sidonie whom he loves. Fromont's eyes
are at last opened; he finds the firm, which had always been his pride, on
the verge of bankruptcy; he discovers the perfidy of Sidonie and attempts
to force her to beg on her knees the forgiveness of Risler's
long-suffering wife. Sidonie flees and becomes a concert-hall singer. Her
revenge is complete when by means of a letter she proves to Fromont that
she has corrupted his much-loved younger brother. Fromont hangs himself.
Outside the main current of the plot Daudet sketches one of the little
dramas of humble life of which he was so fond: the story of Delobelle, an
impoverished actor who lives for his art while his devoted wife and
daughter Desiree patiently ply the needle to earn bread.
Daudet up to this time had been recognized as the greatest of French
short-story writers. The success of "Fromont jeune et Risler aine" was
immediate, and in his succeeding novels he confirmed more and more surely
his right to a place in the front rank of French novelists.
From this story of the life of the _petite bourgeoisie_ he turns to a
wider field. The Bohemia of Paris, a glimpse of the country, and
especially the life of the artisan, fill "Jack" (1876). Daudet had known
the real Jack at Champrosay in 1868. In the novel Jack is the illegitimate
son of Ida de Barency, a shallow demi-mondaine who is passionately devoted
to the boy but brings to him nothing but misfortune. Jack begins his
suffering in a wretched school where his mother has placed him after the
Jesuits had refused to receive him. This school is supported by the
tuition fees of boys from tropical countries, _petits pays chauds_, as
Moronval, the villainous director, calls them. The teachers belong to that
class of _rates_, artistic and literary failures, whom Daudet learned to
know well during his first years in Paris. One of these _rates_ captivates
Ida de Barency, and Jack's life of misery continues. Despite his physical
unfitness, he is sent to labor in the shipbuilding yards at Indret,
suffers tortures in the stoking room of an ocean steamer, is wrecked, and
returns to France in a piteous condition. His love for Cecile,
granddaughter of a gentle country doctor, is rapidly making a man of him,
when his mother enters again into his life and the poor boy dies miserably
in a hospital, killed by despair rather than by disease.
This is perhaps the most powerful of Daudet's novels; it is certainly the
most harrowing. The tragedy of the whole is only slightly relieved by the
interweaving of the romance of good Belisaire, the hawker, one of Jack's
few friends.
"Le Nabab" (1878) is concerned with politics, the richer bourgeoisie, and
the aristocracy. Jansoulet, the "nabob," returns from Tunis with a large
fortune and immediately becomes the prey of parasites. He is made the
enemy of the banker Hemerlingue through the social rivalry of their wives.
He is elected _depute_ from Corsica. The legality of the election is
questioned. Jansoulet is supported by the prime minister, the duc de Mora,
but the latter dies suddenly, Jansoulet's election is declared invalid,
and he dies from a stroke of apoplexy.
Despite the protest of the author, contemporaries found originals for a
number of the characters of this novel. The duc de Mora is Morny, and
several others have been identified with greater or less certainty.
Felicia Ruys is perhaps Sarah Bernhardt.
The purely romantic element of the work is found in the story of Paul de
Gery and the Joyeuse family, a secondary plot having no vital connection
with the main story.
In "Les Rois en exil" (1880) Daudet explores a new vein in contemporary
society. He explains that the idea of the work occured to him one October
evening when, standing in the Place du Carrousel, he was contemplating the
ruins of the Tuileries. The wreck of the Empire brought to his mind a
vision of the dethroned monarchs whom he had seen spending their exile in
Paris: the Duke of Brunswick, the blind King of Hanover and the devoted
Princess Frederica, Queen Isabella of Spain, and others. "This is the work
which cost me most effort," Daudet says, and the reason is not far to
seek. He had always painted "from life," and the difficulties incident to
gaining an entrance into the intimacy of even dethroned monarchs were
almost insurmountable. The novelist's acquaintances were appealed to, from
house-furnishers to diplomats. The story of the composition of "Les Rois
en exil" is an interesting study of Daudet's methods, his inexorable
insistence on truth, even to the most minute details.
As usual, the characters are sharply contrasted. Christian, the exiled
king of Illyria, is detestably weak; Frederique, his wife devoting herself
completely to the interests of her son, Zara, struggles with the aid of
the faithful preceptor, Meraut, to prepare the prince for a throne which
he is never to ascend. Of all the characters that appear in Daudet's
novels it is perhaps Frederique whose appeal to the reader is strongest,
and Frederique is almost entirely the product of the author's imagination.
We cannot but regret the many visions such as Frederique which were
refused admittance to Daudet's essentially romantic mind by the
uncompromising laws of a realism which he had mistakenly accepted as his
guide.
The composition of "Les Rois en exil" is defective, but its charm is
great. In "Numa Roumestan" (1881) the technique is better. Daudet's first
intention was to entitle this work "Nord et midi," his idea being to
contrast the north with the south, a theme for which he always had a
predilection. Numa is a refined Tartarin; Daudet sends him to Paris, and
studies the result. Numa carries all before him by his robust vigor and
geniality. The "mirage" effects of the southern sun pursue him to Paris;
quick to promise out of the fullness of his hearty enthusiasm, he
encourages and disappoints those who trust themselves to him. He deceives
his wife, begs her forgiveness with abundant tears, and in a disgusting
manner deceives her a second time. The book ends with the picture of
Rosalie Roumestan bending over her new-born son. "Will you be a liar too?"
She asks. "Will you be a Roumestan, tell me?"
"L'Evangeliste" (1883), a psychological study rather than a novel, is a
heartbreaking picture of the inhumanity of religious fanaticism. "Sapho"
(1884) is so essentially French in spirit that it can hardly be understood
by American readers. Daudet dedicates it "To my sons when they are
twenty." It is intended as a lesson, and if naturalistic works ever can
carry a lesson this one certainly does. It is a striking picture of the
evils of _faux menages_. On the whole "Sapho" is disagreeable, yet of the
novels it seems to be Daudet's masterpiece, perhaps because it is the most
romantic. The truth may be photographed in its most minute realistic
details, as in Zola, or it may be colored by poetic fancy; this has
happened in "Numa Roumestan" and especially in "Sapho," the two novels of
Daudet which appear most likely to live. In "Sapho" there is a tender note
which is lacking in "Jack" and in "Fromont jeune et Risler aine"; Daudet's
nature fitted him to inspire pity rather than indignation. And we must
remember that while writing "Sapho" he had in mind the future of his own
sons. He looks forward, and in hope of a fortunate issue tells frankly, in
a kindly manner, a true story which he hopes may be fruitful of good
results. If, instead of assuming the role of inquisitorial censor,
naturalists would show sympathy for erring mankind, if they would look
forward with hope instead of fixing their horrified eyes on the present or
the past, their judgments would not tend to make us give up in despair,
but might encourage and instruct. "Sapho" is the last of the great novels.
"L'Immortel" (1888) is a weak and unjust satire directed against the
French Academy. "Rose et Ninette" (1892) is a study of the evils of
divorce; "La Petite Paroisse" (1895), the only one of the novels with a
happy outcome, is a study of jealousy. In "Soutien de famille" (1898,
posthumous) two brothers are contrasted; the older, as a matter of course
recognized as the head of the family, is weak, and the younger is the real
"prop of the family."
Just after "Sapho" (1884) Daudet's health had begun to decline. Long years
of suffering follow, but, although in almost constant pain, the
indefatigable worker remains at his desk.
In "Souvenirs d'un homme de lettres" (1888) and "Trente Ans de Paris"
(1888) Daudet tells the story of his life and literary activity. It is
through these works that we become intimately acquainted with our author,
and we are not disillusioned. "Entre les frises et la rampe" (1893)
contains studies of the stage and its people.
* * * * *
Daudet claimed to be an independent,[1] and was indignant when an attempt
was made to class him with any school. He was certainly independent in his
youth, but in his second period, after the war, he became a realist with
Flaubert and Zola and an impressionist with Goncourt.
[Footnote 1: He consistently refused to have his name placed in candidacy
before the Academy. In a foreword prefixed to "L'Immortel" he declares:
"Je ne me presente pas, je ne me suis jamais presente, je ne me
presenterai jamais a l'Academie."]
It is, however, the southerner in Daudet that remains most pleasing. It is
in those works which are directly inspired by his native land of dreams
that he is most completely himself, and therefore most charming. It is
here that he discloses his kinship with Musset. With all the delicacy of
Musset and at the same time a saneness which Musset did not always
possess, what might he not have accomplished if he had only continued as
he began? Even as it is, the best Daudet is the young Daudet, the brother
of Musset. In his so-called great works, the long novels where questions
of the day are fearlessly treated yet never solved, the works which are
frequently considered his surest claim to immortality, we have an entirely
different Daudet, excellent of course, and strong too if you like, but not
the Daudet that nature had intended to produce.
Surely it would have been better if he had never gone to Paris, but, like
his friend Mistral, had remained in Provence and devoted his essentially
poetic genius to an expression of the spirit of the south. His keenly
sensitive nature was too delicate for intercourse with the virility of a
Zola or the subtlety of a Goncourt. Paris made of him a realist, and the
world lost by the transformation.
Daudet's love for his native land was intense. Its images were ever
present to him; its poetry haunted him throughout his life. He urged young
men ambitious of literary laurels to remain in their native provinces, to
draw their inspiration from the soil, confident that something great and
beautiful would result. Why did he not take for himself the counsel he so
incessantly offered to others? An untiring curiosity which accompanied a
remarkable acuteness of all the senses, and an emotional and intellectual
receptivity which rendered him quickly and profoundly impressionable,
equipped Daudet to express the poetic spirit of the south in its epic as
well as its lyric qualities. He was aware of this himself. "I believe that
I shall carry away with me," he said, "many curious observations on my
race, its virtues, its faults".[1] And in speaking of the "Lettres de mon
moulin," the only volume of his works in which his southern nature is
given free rein, he says many years after its publication, after he had
written his best novels, "That is still my favorite book."