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cter 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 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