SOURCE: Mickel, Emanuel J., Jr. “Narrative Structures in Dominique” and “Characters and Psychology.” In Eugène Fromentin, pp. 88-103; 113-23. Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1981.

[In the following essay, Mickel analyzes the structure and characters in Dominique.]

I THE FRAME STORY

Dominique is the narrative account of selected moments drawn from the adolescence and youth of the book's principal character. Because of the novel's meaning, it is important that this period in Dominique's life not be seen in isolation but rather in comparison to the life being led by the principal character more than twenty years later. Thus Fromentin chose to present the novel in the form of a frame story—one might say, in this case, a story within a setting. The narration of Dominique's youth occupies chapters 3 through 17 and has its own structural unity, since neither the beginning nor the end is chronologically linked to the frame story. Chapters 1, 2, and 18 provide a kind of prologue and epilogue to the main narrative but are really much more important to the novel's meaning than the usual frame story, which is often a technical convenience for the author.

In Dominique the first two chapters have their own inner logic and are as important to the novel as the retrospective narrative. Since the narrator will relate an experience which he had more than two decades earlier, the reader has many questions pertaining to the veracity of the account and the narrator's perspective. Moreover, because of Dominique's ambivalent character, the reader is eager to know what kind of person he has become since his youth. The frame narrator, who introduces one to Dominique, lends objectivity to the account. Like the reader he is an unbiased observer who can comment independently on Dominique's account, but, more importantly, he reflects on whether the narrator's account is corroborated by what he knows or whether the narrator's own demeanor accords with what has been said.

In these three frame chapters, then, one must see a full picture of Dominique as he is at the time he begins his narrative. The first chapter is economical in accomplishing this. It begins with a quotation from Dominique in which he assesses his current life, followed by the narrator's comments on the objectivity and truth of his statement. This brief introduction is followed by scenes which present the two aspects of Dominique's existence. When we first see Dominique, he is hunting and alone. The reader is told that he hunts regularly and always insists on being alone. However, to dispel any thoughts that Dominique is antisocial or ill-tempered, the author shows his courteous treatment of the other hunters and the happy affection displayed by his family in greeting him.

Chapter 2 continues to broaden our knowledge of Dominique's life within the provincial setting. We see him surrounded by a happy family and busily engaged in running an estate of contented tenants. Dominique's civil and private obligations fill his day with activities necessary to those who live in the region. Yet this is not the only picture which the author draws. He is disturbed on his rides by Père Jacques, who insists on recalling the old days whenever he encounters Dominique. And when rain interrupts his round of activities, he withdraws alone to a room filled with memorabilia, its walls covered with dates, numbers, and phrases written at an earlier time. It is clear that the room is symbolic of another time or side of Dominique's character and that his withdrawal there relates to his solitary hunting expeditions and may be related to his annoyance at Père Jacques' reminiscences.

Thus Fromentin uses the two frame chapters to develop the seeming disparity between the happy, serene public figure and the man who often prefers to be alone in nature or in his room of memories. One has the impression that his life has not always been so ordered or happy as it now appears. In addition to this presentation, the author introduces one of the main characters of the inner narrative and develops a conversation concerning marriage which is vital to the text's meaning and plays the role of catalyst in the novel. After the disturbing dinner discussion concerning the importance of leading a useful life, Olivier returns home and attempts suicide. It is this event which causes Dominique to retire to his room with his new friend and recount the story of his youth.

At the conclusion of Dominique's narrative, the scene is again the special room with the enigmatic wall-writings. Fromentin chose not to lengthen the novel at this point to provide a transition between the events of the past and Dominique's current life.¹ In fact he returns to the scene just as he had left it, except that the shadows have begun to darken the walls of the room, as if closing out the past time which had been drawn into the present momentarily by the magic of memory. Sounds of the family and noises of the general activity from outside the room begin to invade the quiet of the inner sanctum. Without answering the many questions which one might ask in an effort to link past and present, Fromentin quickly ends the story, but not without a brief indication which helps to tie the inner narrative to Dominique's current life. He refers to the suicide attempt of Olivier as if it had closed a final chapter of the history: he had lost his long battle with life and ennui. Finally, the arrival of Augustin on the book's final page indicates that his former tutor's influence and example continue to play a prominent role in Dominique's life.

II THE INNER NARRATIVE

Chapters 3 through 17 contain the narrative of Dominique's youthful love affair with Madeleine and his subsequent return to Trembles. In a sense the central focus of the narrative is Madeleine's wedding in chapter 7. What precedes pertains to the awakening of love and what follows concerns the grief and conflict brought about by the impossible situation created by Madeleine's marriage.

In chapters 3 through 5 Dominique recounts his early years at Trembles and Ormesson. The narrator does not attempt to provide a detailed history of these years; rather he focuses on one element in growing up which relates to the central drama of the story. In chapter 3 he sets the stage of his early life, how he grew up without parents, and learned to love nature. To his rather undisciplined existence came his tutor, Augustin, a young man as methodical and diligent as Dominique was carefree. After these two portraits, the chapter closes with the final lesson which Augustin assigned, the Latin composition concerning Hannibal's departure from Italy. The assignment fills Dominique with a level of emotion scarcely appropriate for the passage. It is an indication that something new is stirring in the young Dominique, who is about to enter a new phase of life both in terms of his education and emotional development.

In chapter 4 Dominique departs for Ormesson, where he will pursue his formal education. The nature of life in the somber, middle-class town contrasts sharply with the rural, carefree existence which had typified Trembles. At Ormesson Dominique meets Olivier and his two cousins, Julie and Madeleine. At this point all of the principal characters have been introduced.

Dominique recognizes that a change is occurring in him, but he is unable to identify it. He wishes to be alone in his room or in the country by himself. He tries to avoid his friends. In this solitary setting chapter 6 includes two meaningful encounters, both with Madeleine. As Dominique recalls his own feelings at the time, he is careful to emphasize that he was totally unaware of the reason for his disquietude. During one of his solitary walks he unexpectedly encounters Madeleine, Julie and Olivier. Caught at an awkward moment, he hastens to leave them, even though he has no real excuse to offer. Later at the dinner table he unaccountably exchanges his customary seat next to Madeleine for one across the table. Only after this scene does it begin to dawn on him that his emotional disturbance involves Madeleine.²

Just as Dominique begins to recognize his special feeling for Madeleine, the novel moves quickly to the two chapters which precipitate the crisis in his life. Chapters 6 and 7 present a sharp contrast with the meandering, introspective character of the preceding chapters. Fromentin expresses this by contrasting Dominique's own feeling of timelessness as he is beset by alternating feelings of ecstasy, fear, and grief. His own emotional state and ignorance of reality make him unaware that life proceeds within strict temporal limits. The principal event in chapter 6 occurs in the final scene, when Dominique is jolted by the realization that Madeleine is being engaged and that this moment, which he is allowed to witness only from the outside, changes the nature of his own existence completely. The contrast between Dominique's timeless, adolescent world and the finite world which Madeleine has just entered is cleverly presented in the chapter. At the beginning Dominique is relieved to hear that M. d'Orsel has taken his daughter on a two-month vacation. Dominique even laments that two months may not be enough time for him to collect himself. Yet he takes joy in knowing that he can reflect on Madeleine, pass time near her home, and even enter her room without fearing the uncomfortable encounters which embarrass him and threaten to reveal his feelings. He is unaware that Madeleine is entering a process which takes only a certain time to complete and that her departure signals the beginning of the procedure.

The engagement scene has the effect of crystallizing everything for Dominique. Not only is he able to identify his feeling for Madeleine as love, but he is brought abruptly out of his adolescent world into the grown-up reality which he must come to share.

In chapter 7 there is only one event of importance: Madeleine is married amid the mixed joy and indifference of such occasions, while the shocked Dominique stares at the event, again an observer and not a true participant, excruciatingly aware of the contrast between his inner thoughts and feelings and the noisy turmoil of the celebration.

The following three chapters follow two developments in the novel. Subsequent to the wedding, including the remainder of chapter 7, Dominique suffers the grief which comes with his realization of what the marriage really means to his life. But it is also a period which marks a substantial change in his own maturity. Essentially he makes the transition from being a schoolboy to a person once again the equal of Madeleine. Earlier she had crossed the fine line which divides the young girl from the adult. Although only a year younger than Madeleine, Dominique remains for a brief time in the adolescent world. At this moment the year's difference separates them by an insurmountable barrier. Fromentin illustrates this in the graduation ceremony which Madeleine attends. It is a moment Dominique dreads because his academic garments are symbolic of the gulf which separates him from Mme de Nièvres. He is painfully conscious of the disparity between them and is reluctant to see her. Yet when the ceremony ends and he descends to accept congratulations, it is Madeleine who is embarrassed and blushes at the encounter. Dominique has crossed the threshold of adolescence and is prepared to take on the role of a young man.

Chapter 9 presents Dominique at Paris, living the life of the young romantic who is hopelessly in love and pours out his lovelorn emotions in poetry. He writes feverishly, persuaded that he has the genius of the gifted poet. It is a period of debate in his life and his two friends, Olivier and Augustin, begin to occupy a larger role in the novel's structure. Both offer him advice about life. Olivier urges him to replace his interest in Madeleine by feminine companionship. Chapters 9 and 10 present the conflicting advice of his two mentors. At the end of chapter 10 he joins Olivier at the opera and begins a two-month affair.

This is a turning point in the novel. Dominique has been torn between the advice of Olivier and Augustin. In deciding to follow Olivier he begins a way of life which he quickly realizes cannot bring him satisfaction and fulfillment. Because of his dissatisfaction, he immediately seizes the opportunity to return to Trembles when he learns that Madeleine plans to vacation there. Trembles represents the security and happiness of his youth; he can return to his origins and begin again in the recovered friendship of Madeleine. Because Trembles is his childhood home, many of the current obstacles can be overlooked, as if removed by stepping back into a period in which they did not exist.

Chapters 11 through 13 develop a growing love and intimacy between Dominique and Madeleine. Once again Dominique lives in the timeless setting of his childhood. Just as in the earlier section he lives the summer, oblivious of time, as if the moment would never end. The famous lighthouse scene marks the sensual element which has entered their relationship, a factor which had not been present in their earlier childhood intimacy. The final walk with Madeleine recreates the clash between the timeless nature of their love and the exigencies of time which the real world imposes. Just as the wedding must follow the engagement after a certain time, so must the summer of love end with the close of autumn. The realities of winter and marriage must be faced.

However, the development in chapters 11 through 13 shifts focus somewhat. Whereas chapters 3 through 5 traced the awakening of love in Dominique, chapters 11 through 13 focus on Madeleine, who is unaware or does not wish to recognize that her friendship with Dominique is changing. In the remainder of the narrative Dominique tries to discover Madeleine's real feelings for him and then tries to force her to acknowledge that she loves him. Just as Dominique avoided admitting to himself his real problem, so does Madeleine attempt to hide and overcome her true feelings. After the pastoral interlude at Trembles, the scene changes to Paris and the social life of Madeleine's new world.

The contrast between chapters 11 and 12 is illustrated vividly in the ball scene, the initial moment of the latter chapter. Both Dominique and Madeleine have left the innocent days of childhood and the asensual friendship of an earlier time. Dominique is disturbed by the mundane surroundings and offended by the revealing cut of Madeleine's gown. The ball begins a rather cruel game of chess by Dominique as he alternates seduction and abandonment in an effort to force Madeleine to confess her love. When intimate conversations fail to produce the desired confession, Dominique leaves for a month and returns precipitously to find a grieving, tortured Madeleine. Finally Madeleine makes the fatal mistake of entering into complicity, ostensibly promising herself only to help Dominique recover his former self. Chapter 13 traces the growing intimacy of the two lovers, helped by the fiction that Madeleine is really seeing him so regularly to be of help. The nobility of her cause helps her ignore the prudent barriers imposed by social convention as she agrees to see him away from her home when his visits become noticeably regular.

At this point the novel might well be arriving at the crisis it reaches in chapter 17, except for Dominique's inner urge to force Madeleine to avow her love openly. As a kind of cruel joke Dominique announces to Madeleine that she has been successful in her cure, that he no longer loves her. The shock is so great to her, despite his immediate disavowal of the remark, that he still finds her character altered the next day.

Dominique's remark has the effect of delaying the development of the novel. The pause in the progress of their love allows Fromentin to focus once again on the direction which Dominique's life is taking. Chapter 14 is an interlude within the structure of the romance. While Dominique spends half of the chapter with Augustin and the other half with Olivier, the affair with Madeleine remains suspended. However, within another framework, discussed in the next chapter, the outcome of chapter 14 is decisive in Dominique's life and really determines his future. In some ways it is the climax of the book, the resolution of a long inner struggle. More than any other single chapter this one links the events of the past to Dominique's present way of life. At its conclusion one can see the logic in Dominique's current existence and how the philosophical assumptions which underlie his present life are related to the events of the past.

In a sense chapter 15 forms a transition to the long two-year break from Madeleine in the following chapter. The development of Dominique into manhood is nearly complete. He is overjoyed now that he feels certain that Madeleine loves him and is sure that she cannot resist him. After a month's absence, Madeleine meets him in the street and invites him to the opera. At the performance Dominique sits close to Madeleine and is intoxicated by the combination of music and fragrance from her perfume. The effect on Madeleine is not so apparent until they return and Madeleine's comments while holding the bouquet reflect the extent that she feels tortured by Dominique. In this last scene the emphasis on the increasingly sensual nature of their relationship prepares the reader for the wild ride of chapter 17 and the ultimate break between them.

On the one hand, chapter 16 provides the necessary separation of the two lovers prior to the dramatic denouement of the story. Thus it serves as a transition chapter within the framework of their romance. On the other hand, it is a chapter of great significance in the long development of Dominique from the sheltered, young child through adolescence to maturity. In his relationship to Madeleine he has reached full maturity and the sexual drive which that implies. Now the reader sees an energetic young man ambitiously testing his talents in the world at large. First he ventures into the world of poetry and then turns to the political arena. This activity brings considerable success and even some visibility as a rising young writer and critic of the political scene. However, he becomes disenchanted with the superficial nature of this activity and, when Olivier tells him that Julie is ill, he seizes the opportunity to visit Madeleine and her family after a two-year absence.

This final encounter between Madeleine and Dominique brings to a climax the development of their relationship as lovers (which began in chapter 11). The sequence of five chapters is interrupted only by the two interludes (chapters 14 and 16) in which Dominique chooses between Olivier and Augustin and develops his active life. The love affair has been prepared for such a climax since chapter 13. The delay has the effect of allowing both Madeleine and Dominique to become older and less subject to the fears of adolescence. Madeleine has been married long enough for M. de Nièvres not to react to her letter that Dominique has arrived, except to say that he will remain absent another month.

The chapter can be divided into three principal scenes: the wild ride in the forest, the joining of the shawl, and their last conversation together. Like the scene in the lighthouse, the wild ride through the forest represents the repressed sexual attraction which lies just beneath the surface. The ride has the obvious characteristics which relate to their love affair: Dominique mounts on M. de Nièvres's horse, rides off the path, thus putting him in great danger from low branches, and Madeleine leads the chase at a wild pace. Dominique describes the ride as a duel between two who seem more enemies than friends, an obvious reference to the adversary relationship which they have had since chapter 12. After the ride Madeleine retires to her room. The next day Dominique announces that he will leave. The imminent threat of his departure causes the lovers to spend the day together. This leads to the incident with the shawl and Madeleine's symbolic capitulation. That evening Madeleine asks to see Dominique alone. She makes the long awaited confession that she loves him. She can now admit as much openly, since she has told him that she will never see him again.

III THE CIRCULAR JOURNEY

In Fromentin's own life travel played a large role in his artistic formation. Despite his love of the region in which he was born, it is evident from his correspondence that he came to feel out of place among the people of the area and even in his own family circle. A professional artistic career was far too impractical to gain the approval of his family or the inhabitants of the region. One might paint or write as an additional interest, but one must have a real profession to establish financial security and respect. For Fromentin his study at Paris gave him the independence he needed to engage in an artistic career. Even in the choice of studio one can see the extent of the constraint imposed on the young artist, as his father insisted on one of the most traditional schools of painting then active. The avant-garde of the time lay in the rising interest in objective realism. Because of his temperament and aesthetic values, such an attitude toward art could never hold much appeal for the young painter. Basically he agreed with his father's own aesthetic values. He believed in the value of studying and imitating the masters; yet he knew that he must find his own subject matter and style if he were to make his mark among the best painters of the day. North Africa had become the subject of several painters of the past decade whose work had caught his attention. When the opportunity came to travel to North Africa, he took it, even though he had to leave in secrecy and without his family's blessing.

Arthur Evans sees in his trip to North Africa a kind of archetypal voyage to the unknown.³Un Eté represents for him a kind of epic portrayal of this adventure, whereas Une Année has more of a pastoral mood. The characterization is not without value. The northern portion of the continent, with its vast, mysterious desert, represented a new frontier for the nineteenth-century Frenchman. Much is often said about Fromentin's fascination with the great expanse of the horizon, but it is noted that he prefers a horizon that has limits. This is seen as a basic element in his personality and artistic perspective.

There is some truth in this; however, Fromentin's trip to the edge of the desert was fascinating to him in part because of the unknown reaches which lay beyond. As pointed out in chapter 4, Fromentin saw in the enigmatic reaches of the silent desert an image of the inner self. In that respect he enjoyed the quiet, reflective solitude. He had no interest in exploring the desert as did Vandell, his companion in Une Année. His classic view of reality told him that, though the shapes and forms might indeed be bizarre, the inner reality of human nature and existence would not be different. He could learn as much examining the enigmatic self which so resembled the silent desert. In Une Année he expresses this idea well when he states that he will not travel so much this time. Instead he will place himself and observe the world as it passes by:

C'est à mon avis le meilleur moyen de beaucoup connaître en voyant peu, de bien voir en observant souvent, de voyager cependant, mais comme on assiste à un spectacle, en laissant les tableaux changeants se renouveler d'eux-mêmes autour d'un point de vue fixe et d'une existence immobile.⁴

One had to travel outside of one's self to experience life. However, for Fromentin the return to oneself and one's own soil was even more important than the trip. For it was within the artistic self that the creative transformation and perception occurred. Only when the experiences of life had been evaluated and their essential meaning crystallized had the artist succeeded in creating something. One must avoid the temptation of passing on raw observation as art.

Thus in Dominique the journey is as important a motif as the process of growing up. Arthur Evans⁵ suggests that Dominique is built on the structure of a circular “voyage,” whereas Maija Lehtonen⁶ proposes a structure constructed on two concentric circles with Trembles as a kind of axis between them. Both views are interesting and useful. One can see that Dominique's maturing follows his journey away from home as he moves from Trembles through Villeneuve to Ormesson, where he receives his final years of education and awakens to love. From Ormesson he moves to Paris, where he enters the social and intellectual life of the world. From there he goes to Nièvres for the final scene. After his final break with Madeleine (he had abandoned his career in society in the preceding chapter), Dominique quickly withdraws from the world to live a secluded but active life in his own surroundings. Three days after his departure from Nièvres he was with Mme Ceyssac at Ormesson. The next day he resumed his journey “… dans cette course lamentable qui me ramenait au gîte comme un animal blessé qui perd du sang et ne veut pas défaillir en route. …”⁷ The image is apropos. Dominique returns home to his own “lair.” It is appropriate that he be welcomed by André, symbol of the de Bray estate, a timeless presence who represents the unchanging permanence and stability of the life which Dominique will now set out to continue.

Lehtonen's suggestion that there is a dual circular structure with Trembles as an axis between the two journeys reminds one that Dominique does indeed return to Trembles from Paris for the summer vacation with Madeleine in chapter 11. The destination and timing of the trip are not without significance. Dominique has been living at Paris in grief since the marriage of Madeleine. When he decides to join her at Trembles, he is returning to his native soil with Madeleine. There she will become associated with the memories and places which form the substance of Dominique's existence. In a sense they return to an innocent time in this setting, one which allows them to resume the friendship which was interrupted by the engagement and marriage. As mentioned above, this journey back to Trembles is an interlude which separates the section concerning the awakening of love and grief from the beginning of the new relationship which will eventually end in permanent separation.

IV THE SEASONS

Given the fact that Dominique is a confessional novel in the Romantic tradition, it is not surprising to find a close relationship between nature and the principal character. One of the Romantic aspects of the novel is that Dominique's own personality is seen in close harmony with the seasons. The circular journey mentioned above is paralleled by a seasonal journey. Fromentin is careful to indicate the time of year, weather, and general atmosphere for each scene in the novel. Fromentin had a strong predilection for autumn and mentioned on more than one occasion that he did not like the changeable, unpredictable nature of spring.

It is significant that the entire frame story is set in autumn at harvest time. Both visits of the narrator are at this time of year and find the de Bray estate in peaceful repose following the summer activity. It is a traditional time of celebration and dancing, an opportunity to see the de Bray family in the happy setting which Fromentin intends as a final impression on the reader. However, autumn is also associated with middle age and has a nostalgic tint of the memories of things past. This ambivalence adds to the impression that Dominique's current life is not an unmitigated joy. How much of Dominique's inner spirit participates in his family's serenity and how much is locked in the room of memories and regrets?

It should be noted that the awakening of the love and the emotional turmoil described in chapter 5 take place in the spring. Despite some joyous moments, the basic anxiety, uncertainty, and grief are placed in conjunction with the spring of the year. Madeleine's marriage takes place at the end of winter or in early spring on a frozen day and, in chapter 9, Dominique spends a miserable winter in Paris. Finally, both important episodes with Madeleine take place in autumn. At Trembles, in chapter 11, Dominique says goodbye to the happy summer moments, wishing that he could fix Madeleine's trace forever in the landscape, and the final break with Madeleine at Nièvres occurs in November.

V SYMMETRY OF CHARACTERS

In constructing Dominique Fromentin sought to create a parallel relationship between Julie and Olivier which could add an additional interest to the novel and which could be used as a kind of mirror image of his own romance in reverse. Just as Dominique is hopelessly in love with Madeleine, so is Julie involved in an impossible love relationship with Olivier. The device is not really successful because the author fails to develop Julie's personality and he does not devote enough time to the development of their affair.

Julie appears very little in the text. She is present in chapter 4 when Dominique meets Madeleine and she is given a prominent role in the wedding scene, as she accompanies Dominique to the ceremony and appears to be as unhappy as he. In chapter 11 Julie plays a significant role in the lighthouse scene. It is she who faints in the arms of Olivier:

Elle était immobile à côté d'Olivier, sa petite main tremblante placée tout près de la main du jeune homme et fortement crispée sur la rampe. …⁸

One might interpret these lines as reflecting Julie's fear of the height. But the scene is so clearly symbolic of the emotion aroused by love that the precipice is quite of another sort. Thus one tends to read another meaning into the phrase that “her small, trembling hand was placed near the hand of the young man” and that it was “tightly clenched.” In chapter 12 Fromentin focuses on the couple again when Olivier consciously praises Madeleine's beauty in front of Julie and then tells her that she too looks good, although he had not even looked at her. These two rather brief moments are virtually all the preparation given to the scene which undoubtedly accounts for Fromentin's attempt to develop this secondary plot. Olivier asks Dominique to learn whether or not Julie had seen him the other night with another woman. As a background to this, he explains how Julie has loved Olivier since the beginning. Olivier's callous treatment of her precipitates the argument which more or less ends their intimacy. Oliver explains that he has never given Julie the least encouragement and that her stubborn love for him is senseless. Dominique treats Olivier's lack of sympathy for Julie harshly. Exasperated, Olivier makes the comparison which undoubtedly gave rise to the secondary plot:

Je ne l'aime pas, est-ce assez clair? Tu sais ce qu'on entend par aimer ou ne pas aimer; tu sais bien que les deux contraires ont la même énergie, la même impuissance à se gouverner. Essaye donc d'oublier Madeleine; moi, j'essayerai d'adorer Julie; nous verrons lequel de nous deux y réussira le plus tôt.⁹

While it is true that the point is well made and that Julie's love for Olivier is hopeless, it is not true that the situations are really parallel. Dominique's love for Madeleine does not remain unanswered. The obstacle which frustrates him is her marriage. The comparison is good for showing the suffering which accompanies disappointment in love, but the relationship between Olivier and Julie lacks the independent development and interest necessary to balance the love affair of Dominique and Madeleine.

VI ISOLATED MOMENTS

Arthur Evans notes that Fromentin used the same narrative procedure in his novel as he did in the travel books and in Maîtres d'autrefois:

Dominique is built up out of a series of relatively isolated scenes and significant moments, each chosen with a discriminating selectivity, brought to a high finish, and presented framed as it were.¹⁰

The format relates to Fromentin's way of seeing, his tendency to describe a scene in the same orderly fashion and with the same perspective that he used to analyze a painting. But if his painterly eye contributed to the structure of his chapters, so did his memory or the way in which he remembered past events. When he remembered something, even if relatively insignificant, he recalled it in all its detail:

Après des années, le petit espace où j'ai mis ma tente un soir et d'où je suis parti le lendemain m'est présent avec tous ses détails. L'endroit occupé par mon lit, je le vois; il y avait là de l'herbe ou des cailloux, une touffe d'où j'ai vu sortir un lézard, des pierres qui m'empêchaient de dormir.¹¹

Dominique likewise stresses the importance of his memory in recalling seemingly unimportant events in great detail, including the precise date and even the day of the week. His is a memory of impressions not of facts:

… il se formait en moi je ne sais quelle mémoire spéciale assez peu sensible aux faits, mais d'une aptitude singulière à se pénétrer des impressions.¹²

Ostensibly Dominique is a book which recounts the life of Dominique de Bray up to the moment when he returns to Trembles after his separation from Madeleine. Although he begins the narrative with his childhood, how he was raised by Mme Ceyssac and his life under the tutelage of Augustin, Dominique does not attempt to give a chronological account of these years. In fact he merely summarizes the kinds of things he did and learned. Finally, he ends the chapter with the anecdote concerning his essay on Hannibal. The story is not really drawn from an important event in Dominique's life. Rather, his memory of the emotion-filled days which preceded his imminent departure were clustered around this otherwise insignificant incident. The chapters do not really have a chronological focus, even though the narrative constantly moves forward. One is not conscious of time as a factor. What matters in a given season is Dominique's emotional state and the analysis of his feelings through monologues and dialogues.

Dominique spends several years at Ormesson before moving to Paris. In all there are five chapters devoted to his life there. During that time many significant things must have occurred, yet the only real events included in the novel are Madeleine's departure, her marriage, and Dominique's graduation. Obviously, large segments of each chapter are devoted to Dominique's self-analysis and the thoughts passing through his mind. These are nurtured by innumerable, seemingly insignificant moments, a fact which gives the book its static character and creates the impression that the novel lacks plot, incident, and movement.

But the incidents are only insignificant in an objective sense. To Dominique they represent the moments which really crystallized his thoughts or affected him greatly. He recalled his first encounter with Olivier because it came to represent something basic in his nature. When Olivier asks Dominique for the translation of the Latin passage, he reveals an approach to life which is indicative of his character. It is not that he is unable to understand Latin, only that he is unwilling to invest himself in life. He prefers to accept what life will provide, to take the easy pleasure and forego the satisfaction derived from accomplishments which require commitment and effort. In retrospect Dominique remembers the important moment when the flowers from M. de Nièvres arrived. At the time he was unaware of their significance, but later he perceived the relationship between this incident and the change in attitude which he had observed in Madeleine. Throughout the novel he uses quiet moments to mark important changes. The two months he spends with Madeleine at Trembles are focused around two experiences: one is the famous lighthouse scene and the other is their last stroll together. What had seemed to him a timeless period together was suddenly over. Madeleine had experienced with him sites and memories from his past which would remain fixed forever in his memory and which had become a permanent reality which the passage of time could not destroy. Now Madeleine had been made a part of those memories and, as Dominique watches her walk, he wishes that the trace of her footsteps could be retained forever in that place. The recognition that nothing is timeless, even when time seems to stand still, strikes him forcibly. He even recalls the brief comments and the innuendo which accompanied the word déjà, which seemed to characterize so well his own thoughts and emotions then and now.

If Fromentin described scenes from the perspective of the painter or art critic, he also framed human settings where the contour of the scene is captured both physically, as if in a group sitting, and verbally. In these moments he brings brief phrases and gestures into the light and holds them there for our examination and gloss. Dominique and the reader must reflect on the real meaning of what was said, while Dominique yet recalls another reflection based on an incident or conversation of great personal significance.

In each chapter Fromentin organizes the material around a few moments which made a great impression on Dominique but are not necessarily important as events. The technique allows him to take advantage of his gift for description of a setting and for the minute analysis of Dominique's reaction to what has happened. Within these isolated moments Fromentin is at his best as an artist. The novel moves away from the objective realism of a chronological narrative toward a series of connected and highly polished scenes in which the action of months can be condensed into a meaningful, dramatic moment.

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CHARACTERS AND PSYCHOLOGY

I MINOR CHARACTERS

Dominique has frequently been criticized for its lack of action and movement. In his general appraisal of Fromentin shortly after the author's death, Emile Montégut had harsh words for the work and Fromentin's conception of it: “Il crut, selon toute apparence, qu'il se tirerait d'affaire avec des descriptions et de la psychologie.”¹³ Although Montégut himself felt that Fromentin's characters were sans relief (“without dimension”), he recognized the quality of minute analysis that went into the work. In the introduction to her critical edition, Barbara Wright laments that Fromentin, in an effort to make the contrast between Augustin and Olivier more pronounced, initiated changes in the text which made both characters less interesting as human beings and more like cardboard figures with only one-dimensional personalities.¹⁴ The criticism pertains basically to the secondary personages, of course, and not to the principal character.

Part of the difficulty lies in the use of a first-person narrator who has the disadvantage of knowing only what he perceives of the other characters. The secondary narrator might have added another perspective and other information, but Fromentin really makes very little use of him, except for a few comments about Dominique himself. Not given the opportunity to know the other characters personally, he is unable to comment on them independently. The reader and the narrator know only as much as Dominique tells them.

A second factor in the weakness of the other characters is the intense focus of the book on the relationship between Dominique and Madeleine. Fromentin could have broadened the roles of the secondary characters and given their lives an independent interest or had them play a larger role in forming the reader's opinion concerning the love relationship between Dominique and Madeleine. However, they are limited to the incidental role which Dominique gives them.

Beyond this one must say that there is very little development of anyone's personality in the manner of the classic nineteenth-century novel. Fromentin scarcely explores the intellectual interests or personal tastes of his characters. Rather he uses a traditional psychology which examines personal reactions to the moral issues of the text. Fromentin's aesthetic values drew him away from the individualization which became so prominent in post-eighteenth-century thought. One can see this in his travel literature. He was not interested in portraying the anecdote and peculiar details which characterized the North African Arab, but rather sought to capture the essential quality of North Africa and the people by eliminating what he considered superficial detail. The same motivation caused him to look within his characters to seek the central axis of their moral natures.

Even if one grants this premise, Fromentin's character presentation strikes one as too prescriptive. He does not allow his characters the freedom of individual action. Instead of allowing his characters to reveal themselves through their actions, he has Dominique simply describe their natures to the reader. One is told that Mme Ceyssac is serious and pious. She followed the laws of church and state and loved des choses surannés (“old-fashioned things”). The only actions which allow her to demonstrate this character are her pleasure in learning that Olivier is from a respected noble family and her reception of Dominique when he is returning to Trembles after his final separation from Madeleine. Madame de Bray is treated in a similar way. The narrator portrays her as an attractive woman and an excellent mother and wife. She has a kind nature, is gracious, has a good head for figures, and is adept at managing the estate. Her presence is important for what it says about Dominique's current life. It helps to answer the question concerning his failure or success and does not really focus on her as a character in her own right. Only her scene with Olivier permits the reader to evaluate her by her actions. She argues for marriage as a means of making one's existence worthwhile, in that it makes one's life useful to others. One might accuse her here of a certain insensitivity in treating Olivier so harshly. However, this is not really her intent. One is not focusing on her personality. Her role in the scene is to bring out the ideas which the author considers vital to the text's meaning. As such she is not really in conflict with Olivier personally. The important thing is that he will react to the ideas which provoke a crisis in his own life.

Perhaps the least satisfactory character is Julie. Dominique scarcely tells us enough about her to give any indication of her nature. This was probably his intent. It is clear that she was an enigma to Dominique, as he refers to her as being sphinx-like. One learns that she loves Olivier, is easily hurt by his indifference to her, and that she is disturbed when Madeleine is married. But one has no idea what she is like and Dominique does not seem to know what she thinks or feels about Olivier beyond his belief that she loves him. The impossible romance between Julie and Olivier does not serve well as a balance or parallel for the main story. Julie's own personality and personal struggle require more attention and development. Her participation is too limited for her unrequited love to serve as an effective counterpart to the relationship between Dominique and Madeleine.

II AUGUSTIN AND OLIVIER

Because of the contrast he wishes to make, Fromentin gives a much more detailed analysis of the characters of Augustin and Olivier. In chapter 3 Dominique makes an extensive summary of Augustin's personal qualities. The reader is told that Augustin is the epitome of honesty, courage, and kindness. He has excellent judgment, is modest, has lofty ideals, a strong will, and an infectious enthusiasm for life and his future despite personal difficulties. His lack of financial security forces him to have a practical turn of mind and even to be very ambitious.¹⁵ Dominique informs us that Augustin is well educated and that his learning is reflected in his judgment and wisdom.

Yet Augustin is not filled out as a character; he remains one-dimensional. Augustin's part is so dominated by his role as tutor that one does not see him much in other capacities. Dominique reads from some of the letters which Augustin wrote to him after their years at Trembles. The letters are full of advice urging Dominique to be diligent in his work and to live in reality. He warns him against the pitfalls of ennui and gently suggests the potential weaknesses in Olivier's character so as to alert him to the dangers there. But there is very little in these letters or in the future visit of Dominique to Augustin's home which gives a better idea of Augustin's personality. The reader knows that he attempted to write for the theater and then turned to journalism. To Dominique's eyes the life he lives is meager, although Augustin's wife seems happy enough and is confident that the future will satisfy her needs. The image of the life Augustin leads confirms our idea of a hard-working, worthy man whose will and tenacity may earn him a modest success. Yet one would like to know something of the kind of theater he tried to write and perhaps something about his dealings with the theatrical and journalistic worlds. One does not even know what Augustin thinks of his wife or his domestic life. Seeing him in various situations or in discussions of subjects which interested him might have helped to give a more rounded picture of Augustin.

One's only glimpse of an Augustin not in the tutor's role comes from almost insignificant items. When Dominique and Augustin separate at Ormesson, it is Augustin who shows the greater emotion and affection. Moreover, his genuine interest in Dominique is reflected in his continued correspondence and effort to be of help. He is willing to take the time to become acquainted with Madeleine, despite the pressures of his own busy life. One also sees a sensitive side to the practical Augustin. He early perceives the youth's love for Madeleine. yet he is careful not to pry or to give any hint that he knows what lies behind the ennui and general disquietude reflected in Dominique's letters. And although he always uses phrases which indicate the difference in their ages, he is sensitive enough to vary the tone of his letters as Dominique grows older to make their dialogue more of a discourse between mature adults.

Olivier's judgment of Augustin is harsh and reflects his own attitude toward life:

Il y aura toujours chez lui du précepteur et du parvenu. Il sera pédant et en sueur, comme tous les gens qui n'ont pour eux que le vouloir et qui n'arrivent que par le travail. J'aime mieux des dons d'esprit ou de la naissance, ou faute de cela, j'aime mieux rien.¹⁶

Dominique himself called Augustin une nature incomplète (p. 54), obviously referring to the lack of a more spiritual side to his character. However, in changes he made to the manuscript, Fromentin diminished Dominique's personal aversion for his tutor. He did not wish to weaken Augustin's position opposite Olivier. Thus he removed the statement that Dominique himself had trouble liking Augustin. Professor Wright correctly points out that Fromentin did a disservice to the book in removing Dominique's own ambivalence for Augustin. It lessens the conflict within Dominique and reduces a side of his character which is already weak.

The character of Olivier seems drawn from the classic Romantic figure and has many traits which remind one of Werther, René, Amaury, or Oberman. Dominique describes him as a handsome, somewhat delicate, blond individual who has the air of an aristocratic dandy, except that he has none of the taste for art or the artificial. Olivier loves the pleasures and grand life of Paris and he takes great care in his attire, although he does not continually attend to himself once he is dressed. Those who meet him invariably find him charming and attractive. He learns easily, although he reads little, and he finds Latin and literature boring. Questioning the use of it, Olivier scorns those who write books. He is so irregular in his habits and so undisciplined that he himself has no interest in study. At one time he traveled much, but he soon grew weary of it and returned to his provincial estate to live alone and withdrawn from society. Even as a young man he was morose, filled with self-disgust, and gave the impression of being indifferent and blasé. Like his earlier Romantic counterparts, he was young and yet felt old at the same time.

Dominique notes that Olivier was his inferior in much that pertained to the intellect and that he was not nearly so advanced in his studies. Yet in mundane matters it is Olivier who is much more aware of the ways of the world. While Dominique is groping to understand his own feelings and is just beginning to realize that Madeleine has reached another stage in the process of maturing, Olivier already knows that Madeleine has reached a marriageable age. Dominique is unaware of the significance of the bouquet of flowers, whereas Olivier quickly seizes the attached card to take note of the sender's name. Dominique is only gradually awakening to the meaning of his strange feelings for Madeleine, while Olivier has already made advances to a married woman. In such matters Olivier is precocious. He understands the significance of Dominique's emotions well before Dominique himself perceives what they mean. In fact he sees so clearly into the situation that he outlines the scenario for the love affair between Dominique and Madeleine long before it occurs.

In his description of Olivier's character the author observes that he is an aimable garçon and that he has an attractive personality. When one analyzes his role in the text, however, there are few instances when this side of his character is revealed. Perhaps the only incident that shows the friendship which Olivier feels for Dominique occurs in chapter 6 when Dominique has entered Madeleine's room during her absence from Ormesson. Olivier returns before Dominique can exit and undoubtedly understands the reason for his presence. Olivier is sensitive to Dominique's plight and makes no reference to his presence there. Aside from this occasion one sees little evidence of the expression of intimacy and close friendship which would improve Olivier's role in the text.¹⁷

As Olivier appears in the final version of the novel, only his selfishness and rather cruel disregard for others is apparent. Although one can sympathize with him for being exasperated by Julie's unwelcome affection, it is not easy to overlook his callous disregard for her feelings and his deliberate cruelty during the ball scene. The same insolent attitude is evident when he hears that Dominique has been touched by Augustin's plight. Olivier refuses to commit himself to any sincere relationship and his reaction to those who do is the cynical laughter of one who would pretend that anyone who can believe that values must undergird such relationships is naive. It is the source of his ennui and leads him to seek an escape from his own self disgust in the superficial pleasures offered by Parisian society. Unfortunately, Fromentin emphasizes this side of Olivier's character and does not develop a sincere side to his personality.

III MADELEINE AND DOMINIQUE

Of all the major characters one probably knows least about Madeleine. She suffers more than others from being seen only through Dominique's eyes. It is ironic, because Dominique watches her more closely and analyzes her every look and word with care. It is as if his great love for her hinders his ability to know her. Both Augustin and Olivier are quoted more extensively. Direct quotations from Madeleine are generally brief and in response to Dominique. One often sees her react to Dominique's words and actions, but the meaning of her reactions is rarely clear and the interpretation of them by Dominique is open to question.

The introductory portrait of Madeleine reveals less about her character than her dress. Dominique stresses her upbringing in a convent and describes her dreary clothing as a reflection of this background. One only learns that she has the shyness and awkwardness of someone raised away from society and that she is deemed pretty.

Critics often write that Dominique idealizes Madeleine, that he creates in his mind the image of a woman different from the reality. This parallels what is generally thought to have been the case in real life between Fromentin and Jenny. The few comments one has from those who knew her describe Jenny in unflattering terms as a coquette and as someone not really worthy of Fromentin's serious attention. This does not accord with the respectful tone and adoration of Fromentin's own attitude. There is, of course, no justification for interpreting the fictional romance as a mere copy of the author's personal experience. But if one analyzes the bits and pieces of dialogue and Madeleine's reactions apart from Dominique's interpretation of them, one finds that Madeleine's personality varies under stress and, at times, seems contradictory.

When Madeleine returns from her trip with her father, she appears changed, more mature to Dominique. At the awards ceremony and at the ball in chapter 12, Madeleine appears to be a person who enjoys society and the social life of Paris. She looks forward to the event, though she tells Dominique that it will be as much pain for her as for him, and during the evening she is described more than once as enjoying herself. This attitude accords with a few scenes in which she appears coquettish and provocative, but it contrasts sharply with the picture of suffering and courage seen throughout the text.

At Trembles, toward the end of their vacation, Madeleine surprises Dominique in the park and teases him about writing a sonnet. Dominique does not realize that Olivier has told her of his writing. He asks if she thinks him capable of writing poetry. She answers that he is capable of doing that. When he protests that Olivier should not have told her, she replies:

Il a bien fait de m'avertir; sans lui, je vous aurais cru une passion malheureuse, et je sais maintenant ce qui vous distrait: ce sont des rimes.¹⁸

Dominique stresses that she emphasized the word rimes in teasing him. Against the background of the preceding scene in which she seemed to become aware that Dominique loves her, one might see this as relief on her part that she was wrong. However, as much as she tries to avoid a situation in which he could declare his love, she seems, at times, to assume his love and to use the knowledge coquettishly. At the ball in chapter 12, Madeleine approaches the gloomy Dominique to inquire whether or not he intends to dance. When he answers negatively, she reproaches him: “Pas même avec moi?” One could take this as the remark of a friend, but it could be seen as the language of flirtation.

These moments of possible flirtation are in harmony with Madeleine's character in chapter 17, when Dominique sees her for the first time after a two-year absence. Unexplainably she momentarily assumes the role of a seductive, even provocative, woman in the famous scene where she insists that Dominique mount her husband's horse and accompany her on a wild ride into the country. Dominique must chase after her in fits and starts. Finally he catches up to her and insists that she stop this cruel game or he would commit suicide. She looks him straight in the eye and then returns calmly to the chateau and goes to her room. Given the nature of the ride and Madeleine's actions, one might well question whether or not Madeleine expected a different reaction from Dominique. Finally, just before the scene with the shawl, it appears as though Madeleine were looking for Dominique. How innocent is she in falling into his arms?

But this side of Madeleine, if one can even call it that, is scarcely visible when one considers the text as a whole. For the most part one sees Madeleine suffering silently, caught between friendship and a growing recognition of love. Although one sees her in a number of scenes where she is under attack from Dominique, who would like to force her to admit she loves him, not so much is learned about her character as one would hope. Just as the heroine in La Princess de Clèves, Madeleine must invent various means of avoiding a discussion that could permit Dominique to declare his love. For a while she answers ingenuously, as if she does not understand the innuendo or implication of Dominique's remarks. However, Fromentin does not recreate the situations but merely has Dominique report her strategy. This prevents a certain revelation of Madeleine's personality. Another means Madeleine uses is silence and the deflection of the conversation by a change of subject. And, finally, when Dominique refuses to be put off, she sits silently in grief and despair. Because her defense must be one of silence the opportunity for character analysis in these crucial situations is slight.

The minute analysis of Dominique's thoughts and emotions as he develops from adolescence to maturity remains within a classic framework. Although one sees him as a mature man and, through his own eyes, over a considerable span of time during his youth, one knows somewhat less than one might expect about his worldly interests and activities. Fromentin presents, rather, the classic struggle between Dominique's emotions and reason. The obstacle which prevents Dominique's love for Madeleine from coming to fruition represents the realities of life which often stand in the way of one's complete happiness. Fromentin sees the process of maturing and finding happiness in the ability to adjust one's sights and emotions to the realities of life. He does not see unmitigated joy as part of reality. If one is to find a measure of happiness in life, he must develop the possible pleasures and minimize the inevitable griefs. He who can come to accept reality and concentrate on the positive qualities of his existence can overcome the feeling that he has failed merely because he has not fulfilled all his dreams.

When one analyzes the opening statement by Dominique (as quoted by the narrator), one sees that he assesses his life in just this way. Dominique affirms that he is content with his lot and happy to have no longer the ambitions and desires which caused him so much grief. However, the initial statement is cast in such negative terms that one doubts the contentedness he claims.¹⁹ One wonders whether his subsequent statement is not that of someone trying to persuade himself that he is happy.

In the frame story Dominique is presented as having reached his goal. Although he was very different by nature from those with whom he lived, he nonetheless had become half peasant, he tells us, by being brought up among them. It is this side of his nature which is now being served and is content. He loves the things of the soil, enjoys living a useful life among the people he has known for so long, and loves his family.²⁰ When he discusses his writings and public life, he acknowledges that he had gained some fame. But, he points out, he assessed his work objectively and decided that it was not worthy of lasting attention. Any fame he received from it would be the false notoriety of superficial success and not related to the real worth of his work.

Within his contentment, however, there is regret: the regret for Paris, the nostalgic memories associated with his room, his preference for autumn as a season, his insistence on hunting alone, and his desire not to have the old days recalled by Père Jacques. It is the tension between regret and contentment in the frame story which makes the main narrative of such interest. Fromentin does not use the third-person narrative, as if the story had an objective reality. Rather, he has Dominique retell his own tale; he has him rethink the events, words, and gestures aloud just as he has done hundreds of times to himself. This allows one the vividness of reality as it is happening and also permits one to assess the emotional impact of the events on the narrator.

Dominique's analysis of the events really involves his own development as a human being from the young boy growing up among the peasants and his own private thoughts to the chagrined adult who deliberately returns to the peasants to make the best of life. In the process Dominique focuses on a few important periods of development. The picture of Dominique's carefree youth is concluded by the essay on Hannibal's departure. Dominique's own emotional response to the text represents his own feeling about leaving Trembles and entering the world. At Ormesson he is introduced to love. But the importance of Fromentin's psychological analysis is not in describing his conduct once in love, it is rather the portrayal of gradual recognition. Fromentin's analysis follows the process as slowly as if one were watching the physical growth of the adolescent. He moves from the desire to be alone through several incidents with Madeleine that, aided by comments from Olivier, eventually open his eyes to something which, to him, did not exist before. Once Dominique is aware of his love, he is slow to relate its importance to life and reality. This delay and the importance of one year at this moment in life are as fatal to his happiness as the Duc de Nemours's absence from Paris at the moment when Mlle de Chartres becomes available for marriage. When Dominique finally realizes that Madeleine is to be married, the shock is similar to his recognition of love. It had been there for some time; he simply could not perceive it until now. Fromentin carefully portrays the subsequent grief mixed with confusion. It is no wonder that Augustin reenters the text at this point. For the first time in his life, Dominique's reason must play a significant role. It must assess the situation and try to piece together a future suddenly shattered by reality.

While he listens to the counsel of Olivier and Augustin, another development is taking place within him. He is becoming a man, a fact which plays a major part in his treatment of Madeleine. From the moment he steps down from the platform at the awards ceremony, he discards a schoolboy's robes for a man's place in society. Fromentin subtly follows his development from the timid boy who is content to be near Madeleine to the sensual man who attempts to force Madeleine to confess her love. Despite the grief he causes her and his repeated repentance because of it, he returns to take pleasure in conversations and situations which end in Madeleine's grief and silence. In chapter 17 he gloats about his feeling of power over Madeleine, that she is finally in his power. After two years of public involvement, he returns for his final victory. But throughout this growth, there is within him the human feeling that causes him to repent of the misery he causes her. Dominique sees his own development in these terms, as a beast which lets its adversary loose instinctively:

J'ai honte de vous le dire, ce cri de véritable agonie réveilla en moi le seul instinct qui me restât d'un homme, la pitié. … Je n'ai pas à me vanter d'un acte de générosité qui fut presque involontaire, tant la vraie conscience humaine y eut peu de part! Je lâchai prise comme une bête aurait cessé de mordre.²¹

The fully mature adult who had begun the process of rational assessment in chapter 16 now returns to Trembles to begin an existence controlled by reason rather than his senses. No longer will he try to live for his own pleasures and satisfaction. He will guide his life into a useful path which is compatible with his ability and with reality.

Notes

1. He had been urged by George Sand to provide some transition to prepare for his family life. Fromentin may have decided that the initial chapters gave enough setting for the reader to assess the nature of his present life.

2. The novel has been criticized on this point for a lack of psychological truth. Professor Charlton considers it unlikely that Dominique should be slow to recognize his incipient love. There is some truth in the criticism, given the age which Dominique has reached in the novel. In reality the young Fromentin would have been only fourteen. Because he shifted the age of the protagonist to make him more nearly the same age as Madeleine, Fromentin may have made his subtle analysis of the fourteen year old's awakening seem somewhat out of place; however, the sheltered, provincial upbringing which Dominique experienced presents a youth whose naiveté accords well with the analysis (D. G. Charlton, “Fromentin's Dominique,” Forum for Modern Language Studies 3(1967): 85-92.

3. Arthur R. Evans, Jr., The Literary Art of Eugène Fromentin (Baltimore, 1964).

4. “It is in my opinion the best way to know much in seeing little, to see well in observing often, to travel nonetheless, but as one attends a performance, by allowing the changing tableaux to be renewed around a fixed point of view and an immobile existence” (Une Année, p. 6).

5. Evans, Literary Art of Eugène Fromentin.

6. Maija Lehtonen, Essai sur Dominique de Fromentin (Helsinki, 1972).

7. “… In this pitiful journey which brought me to the lair like a wounded animal losing blood and not wishing to collapse en route …” (Wright, pp. 281-82).

8. “She was immobile next to Olivier, her small, trembling hand placed very near the hand of the young man and tightly clenched on the railing …” (ibid., p. 176).

9. “I do not love her, is that clear? You know what one understands by loving or not loving; you know well that the two contrary emotions have the same strength, the same ungovernable quality. Try to forget Madeleine and I shall try to adore Julie. We shall see which of us will succeed sooner” (ibid., p. 239).

10. Evans, p. 28.

11. “After some years the small space where I put my tent one evening and from where I left the next day is present to me in all its detail. I see the place occupied by my bed, some grass, stones or a clump from which I saw a lizard leave, or some rocks which prevented me from sleeping” (Un Eté, p. 79).

12. “… There formed in me a kind of special memory which was not so good about facts but was singularly adept at recalling impressions” (Wright, p. 53).

13. “Evidently he believed that he would manage to succeed with descriptions and some psychology” (Emile Montégut, “Eugène Fromentin, écrivain,” Revue des Deux Mondes 24 [1877]: 683).

14. Eugène Fromentin, Dominique, edited by Barbara Wright (Paris, 1966), p. xxix. “[Il] finit par alourdir un peu ces personnages du roman et en faire des fantoches” (He ends by making the characters of the novel a little dull by making them puppets).

15. Fromentin writes that he was “forcément très-ambitieux” (ibid., p. 54).

16. “There will always be in Augustin something of the tutor and parvenu. He will be pedantic and perspiring like all those who have only work and will on their side. Personally I prefer intellectual gifts or good birth or, failing either, nothing” (ibid., p. 145).

17. Professor Wright notes that Fromentin removed the affirmation of friendship so necessary to our appreciation of Olivier in order to improve Augustin's position vis-à-vis Dominique. By eliminating the positive aspects of Olivier's character, Fromentin certainly weakened his role.

18. “He did well to warn me. Without him I would have believed that you are under the influence of an unfortunate love. Now I know what distracts you: it is rhymes” (ibid., p. 182).

19. “Certainement je n'ai pas à me plaindre …” and “je ne suis plus rien” (Certainly I have nothing to complain about and I am no longer anything) stress the negative sense and make one focus on what might have been rather than on the pleasures he now enjoys (ibid., p. 5).

20. Fromentin considered embellishing this idea. It is true that Dominique's taste for farming and civic duty are not elaborated enough to make one feel that he really is happier doing these things. Failure to establish this contributes to the feeling among some critics that Dominique's life is a failure.

21. “I am ashamed to say it to you, this cry of true agony awakened in me the only human instinct which remained in me, pity. I cannot boast of an act of generosity, since it was nearly involuntary. True human conscience had so little to do with it, I let go just as a beast would have ceased to bite” (Wright, p. 276). One should recall that the image of bestiality is continued when Dominique says that he returned home like a beast returning to his lair.

Bibliography

Fromentin, Eugène. Dominique. Biography, commentaries, and notes by Maxime Revon. Paris: Conard, 1937. Critical apparatus of use.

———. Dominique. Edited, with introduction, notes, and variants by Barbara Wright. Paris: Didier, 1966. Excellent.

———. Dominique. Introduction and notes by Emile Henriot. Paris: Garnier, 1936. Useful.

———. Dominique. Introduction by Armand Hoog. Paris: Armand Colin, 1959. Interesting introduction.

———. Une Année dans le Sahel. Paris: Plon, 1877.

———. Un Eté dans le Sahara. With preface of 1874. Paris: Plon, 1877. Important preface.

———. Un Eté dans le Sahara. Introduction, commentary, and notes by Maxime Revon. Paris: Conard, 1938. Useful.

Wright, Barbara. Eugène Fromentin. London: Grant and Cutler, 1973. Indispensable bibliography. Items up to August 1972.