DOI article:
Baring, Maurice: M. Anatole France
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.21806#0275
By Maurice Baring 271
Books of this kind, Thais, Balthazar, V Etui de Nacre, a
collection of little masterpieces in a genre which M. France has
made his own, and Le Puits de Sainte Clarie (his latest published
book) is what M. France has done by the way, so to speak.
In these we do not trace the growth of his mind so much as in
his other books. But as far as perfection of form and delicacy of
touch go, they are perhaps the most finished things he has
done. Were he to republish the series under one name, we
should recommend—
“ Marguerites pour les pourceaux.”
IV
After the dreamy childhood of little Pierre comes the feverish
period of youth ; there is an agitated violence about M. France’s
work of that time which completely disappears later on.
Les Desirs de Jean Servian, a study of youthful, ineffectual
passion, is rather crude and unsatisfactory ; M. France has not
yet found his medium. Jocaste is a violent piece of melodrama, set
in an atmosphere of hard pessimism. Le Chat Maigre is merely an
interlude, a caprice of fancy. Yet here M. France has a subject
after his own heart, and he is completely successful. It is the
story of a youth who comes from Haiti to pass his haccalaureat■
he lives in a cenacle of madmen, and so vague and irresponsible is
he himself, that it never occurs to him that they are mad.
M. France’s love of madmen, of the fantoches of humanity, is
one of his most decided characteristics. He draws a distinction
between madness and insanity. Madness, he says, is only a kind
of intellectual originality. Insanity is the loss of the intellectual
faculties
Books of this kind, Thais, Balthazar, V Etui de Nacre, a
collection of little masterpieces in a genre which M. France has
made his own, and Le Puits de Sainte Clarie (his latest published
book) is what M. France has done by the way, so to speak.
In these we do not trace the growth of his mind so much as in
his other books. But as far as perfection of form and delicacy of
touch go, they are perhaps the most finished things he has
done. Were he to republish the series under one name, we
should recommend—
“ Marguerites pour les pourceaux.”
IV
After the dreamy childhood of little Pierre comes the feverish
period of youth ; there is an agitated violence about M. France’s
work of that time which completely disappears later on.
Les Desirs de Jean Servian, a study of youthful, ineffectual
passion, is rather crude and unsatisfactory ; M. France has not
yet found his medium. Jocaste is a violent piece of melodrama, set
in an atmosphere of hard pessimism. Le Chat Maigre is merely an
interlude, a caprice of fancy. Yet here M. France has a subject
after his own heart, and he is completely successful. It is the
story of a youth who comes from Haiti to pass his haccalaureat■
he lives in a cenacle of madmen, and so vague and irresponsible is
he himself, that it never occurs to him that they are mad.
M. France’s love of madmen, of the fantoches of humanity, is
one of his most decided characteristics. He draws a distinction
between madness and insanity. Madness, he says, is only a kind
of intellectual originality. Insanity is the loss of the intellectual
faculties