The times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1882-1897, 1883-09-14
The Originals Of Daudst's Characters.


In Henry James's delightful essay on
Alphonse Dapdet in the midsummer
Century. he says: Il shrink very much
from speaking'of systems. in relation to
such genius as this; should incline to
believe that Daudet's system is simply
to be rs vivid as he can. Emile lola
has system---at least, he saws so; but
l do not remember, on the part of the
author of 'Numa Roumestan, the small
est technical profession of faith. New
erthclcss, he has taken line, as we
say, and his line IS to sail as close rs
possible to the actual. The life of Par
Is being his subject, his attempt, most
frequently. is to put his finger upon
known examples; so that he has been
accused of portraying individuals in
stead of portraying types. There are
few of his figures to which the name OF
some celebrity of the day has not Leen
attached, The Irish Doctor Jenkins is an
English physician who fourished in
Paris from such q year to such anoth-
err; people are still living (wonderful to
say) who took his little pills a base ar
senicale. Felicia Rugs IS Madamoiselle
Sarah Bernhardt; Constance Crenmitz
is Madame Taglioni; the Queen of Illyr-
ia is the Queen of Naples; the Prince of
Axel is the Prince of Orange; Tom Le-
Wis is an English house-agent (not in
the Rue Royale, but hard by; Elysee
Meraut is well known Journalist, and
Doctor Bouchereau well known sur
geon. Such is the key, we are told, to
these ingenious INVESTIGATIONS, and to
many others which have not the space
to mention. 1t matters little, to my
mind, whether in each case the cap fits
the supposed model; for nothing is more
evident than that Alphonse Daudet has
proposed to himself to represent not
only the people, but the persons of his
time. The consplcuity OF certain indi-
viduals has added to the force with
which they speak to his imagination.
His tasteis for salient figures, and he
has said to himself that there is no
greater proof of being salient than be-
inc known Eq
Out Of Sight of Land on Lake Huron.
We finally run away from all signs of
the shore, and are ut last alone with the
lake. The heavens are clear all around,
with scattered white clouds here and
there, that seem like varied designs in
glass-work blown white upon the trans
parent sky, and the only darkness to be
seen is the long, lazy ropes of smoke that
sluggishly pay themselves out from our
stacks and carelessly coil themselves
down in oddly convulted shapes along
the horizon. Amirage, having nothing
else to elongate, seems to lift the water
itself, until, Us You look carelessly sea-
ward in any direction, you cannot tell
sea from sky.
We seem to be at the bottom of an
immense liquid basin, trying to sail up
hill, and the impression that the inn
mense wheel is going to screw Us right
through the wall of this weird magic
doesn't cease its delusions. Away ahead
of us, the sun, getting ready for bed,
seems to be raking out her fires, for
directly beneath her, it appears to be,
on some unseen shore, there is CLEAN
on the water that grows and grows I'M
til it rounds upward into huge mound
that glows red like the glare of molten
iron; and rs it grows higher and higher
there stretches out toward the ship a
lengthening conc of light, as ii to burn
our course upon the waters through the
darkness that is soon to fall. Presently
it touches our prov and the flying spray
sparkles in the golden CLEAN. The sun
sinks lower and lower; the fires have
been raked, the mound of glowing Goals
has disappeared, the cone itself, has
dwindled to line of burning wire along
which there now sweeps a bright expir-
ing flash, as if in pulling down the
blinds the dear old sun were wiring us
''good night" and the day is gone, and
we are alone with the night. She, too,
pulls her diamond dotted curtains down
around us, and we are alone with the In
| finite. - CORRESPONDENCE Boston Trans.