f Capdepont's not too scrupulous aide-de-camp the Abbe
Mical--offensive. But at the beginning the bishop, between whom and the
hero there is truceless war, is, though privately an amiable and
charitable gentleman (Capdepont is a Pyrenean peasant by origin), rather
undignified, and even a little tyrannical; while a cardinal towards the
end makes a distinction--between the impossibility of the Church lying
and the positive duty of Churchmen, in certain circumstances, to
lie--which would have been a godsend to Kingsley in that unequal
conflict of his with a colleague of his Eminence's.[521]

Yet critics of almost all shades agreed, I think, in recognising the
merits of M. Fabre's book; and it established him in a special position
among French novelists, which he sustained not unworthily with nearly a
score of novels in a score and a half of years. It is undoubtedly a book
of no small power, which is by no means confined to the petty matters of
chapter-and-seminary wrangling and intrigue. On the contrary, the scene
where, owing to Capdepont's spite, the bishop's coffin is kept, in a
frightful storm, waiting for admission to its inmate's own cathedral, is
a very fine thing indeed--almost, if not quite, in the grand
style--according to some, if not according to Mr. Arnold. The figure of
the arch-priest Clamousse, both in connection with this scene[522] and
others--old, timid, self-indulgent, but not an absolutely bad fellow--is
of first-rate subordinate quality. Whether Capdepont himself has not a
little too much of that synthetic character which I have discussed
elsewhere--whether he is quite a real man, and not something of a
composition of the bad qualities of the peasant type, the intriguing
ecclesiastic type, the ambitious man, the angry man, and so on--must, I
suppose, be left to individual tastes and judgments. If I am not so
enthusiastic about the book as some have been, it is perhaps because it
seems to me rather a study than a story.[523]

[Sidenote: _Norine_, etc.]

This criticism--it is not intended for a reproach--does not extend to
other, perhaps not so powerful, but more _pastimeous_ books, though M.
Fabre seldom entirely excluded the clerical atmosphere of his
youth.[524] A very pleasant volume-full is _Norine_, the title-piece of
which is full at once of Cevenol scenery and Parisian contrast, of love,
and, at least, preparations for feasting; of sketches of that
"Institute" life which comes nearest to our c