Dreyfus Domesticated

Set in France during the late 1890s, the framework for Kate Taylor’s new novel is the Dreyfus Affair, that longstanding symbol of government cover-up and anti-Semitism. Most readers will already be familiar with the case, but in brief, Alfred Dreyfus, an Alsatian Jew, family man and, by numerous accounts, somewhat nondescript artillery officer, was wrongly convicted of treason in a hurried court martial, publicly humiliated on the Champ de Mars in front of a crowd yelling “Jew!” and “Judas!” before being shipped sentence on Devil’s Island. Dreyfus spent five years in that hellhole before being released in 1899 and fully exonerated in 1906. The case against him was a Kafkaesque tale of forgery, lies, innuendo and government cover-up. The military, who knew early on they had made a mistake, refused to admit it. Dreyfus’s brother, Mathieu, never stopped fighting to prove Alfred’s innocence, and in the end another officer, Major Ferdinand Walsin Esterhazy, was revealed as the culprit. The case preoccupied French society and divided it between the Dreyfusards and the anti-Dreyfusards. Even the artists weighted in, with Degas and Renoir believing Dreyfus guilty, and Pissarro and Monet opposing the view. Émile Zola penned his famous “J’accuse” article in a paper owned by Georges Clemenceau (later to become prime minister). Zola was subsequently convicted of criminal libel, fled the country and stayed away until the government fell and he was pardoned.

Much, of course, in the Dreyfus Affair mirrors current events, particularly in the United States: the fear of “enemies,” especially those of a minority religious background; the suspicion that “they” are working to destroy the country and its values from within; the willingness of certain public and political figures to play fast and loose with the facts; the cover-ups; the distant tropical prison; the media frenzy; the political posturing and the polarization. It is not hard to see why Kate Taylor was drawn to the material.

As someone who lived in France for over ten years, five of them in Paris, I can attest to how well Taylor captures French attitudes, sensibilities and atmosphere, and she does a fine job with period details. All of that is a pleasure, and adds interest to this literary detective story.

Few stories in modern history hold more drama and, although Taylor is an undeniably fine writer— as evidenced by the praise she received for Madame Proust and the Kosher Kitchen—the enormous heft and complexity of history appear to be too much for this enjoyable but oddly lightweight story. The novel opens with a truly lovely four-page prologue in which the reader is introduced to Dreyfus and his deplorable existence on Devil’s Island. I found it beautifully written and poignant. I wanted more. However, the next time we see Dreyfus is in an equally evocative, and equally short, epilogue.

The author has created a fictional protagonist, lawyer François Dubon, and from his point of view the story unfolds at a languid pace. Maître Dubon, who had a brief fling with socialism in his youth, is very much the self-satisfied Right Bank bourgeoisie, complete with wife, son and a mistress he visits for precisely two hours a day, ensuring he is not late for dinner with his family. One day a Madame Duhamel arrives in his office, claiming to be a friend of the Dreyfus family. She requests his help in clearing Alfred Dreyfus’s name. Dubon is at first reluctant, but is eventually drawn in, partly due to his attraction for Madame Duhamel (his interest in his mistress is waning). Maître Dubon disguises himself first in a uniform provided by Madame Duhamel, later in his brother-in-law’s uniform, and infiltrates the military’s statistical section, the counter-espionage unit. A somewhat convoluted paper chase ensues. I give nothing away when I say Dubon manages to obtain evidence of Dreyfus’s innocence.

Unfortunately, Dubon did not seem, for me, altogether believable. He is painted with a palette so bland I found it difficult to sustain interest in his actions. I had no sense of sufficient motivation to justify his risking everything to exonerate Dreyfus, other than possibly to win a new mistress. Perhaps Taylor intended this stodgy man to mirror the similarly unheroic Dreyfus, but carrying the entire novel is an unwieldy burden for such a passionless character.

Dubon’s deception—impersonating military personnel in the counter-espionage office—would put him in enormous peril. If discovered, surely he would face public humiliation, loss of livelihood and possibly even prison. And yet I did not feel much real suspense or danger. Then, too, the ineptitude of the statistical section is hardly to be believed (although this may be a case where fact does not translate to fiction). For example, no one bothers to investigate why Dubon has no transfer papers. In one brief exchange between Lieutenant Colonel Georges Picquart, the head of the Statistique (and the man who in real life unearthed the evidence of Dreyfus’s innocence), the issue is addressed thusly:

Of course, Dubon produces no papers. When the real clerk turns up, he is sent away without apparent suspicion, while Dubon toils amidst the haystack of papers in which his exonerating needle rests. In any novel involving characters in disguise, the author faces the challenge of persuading the reader to accept the plausibility of the illusion and play-acting, and I am afraid I could not suspend disbelief here.

There are some intriguing twists, and a nice revelation at the end of the book, but I kept waiting for more. I wanted to see some of the seething intellectual and political conflicts raging in Paris at the time, away from the ever-so-polite dinner conversations, and I wanted Taylor to bring in more of the historical characters, men who were naturally dramatic figures—I wanted to see Émile Zola, for example, pointing his literary finger in the face of hypocrisy (he is only referred to once, when Dubon says he is reading Germinal), the great left-wing politician Jean Jaurès, publisher and future prime minister Clemenceau, Mathieu Dreyfus and last, but by no means least, Alfred Dreyfus himself.

The story itself, in spite of a few implausible twists, might best be enjoyed by ignoring the history, since in this case, history is more dramatic than fiction. Although the plot is somewhat thin, the period details are great fun and the prose is clear and crisp. Kate Taylor is a talented writer, and I look forward to more of her work, but I could not help feeling this novel does not quite overcome its flaws.