The Immortal by Alphonse Daudet

A satirical look at the Académie Française
Originally published in 1888, The Immortal is a novel by French naturalist writer Alphonse Daudet. It has also been published in English under the title One of the Forty, referring to the forty members of the Académie Française, who are informally referred to as “Immortals.” Established in 1635, the Académie is an honorary organization of men of letters, similar to a sort of intellectual knighthood, in which membership comes with a distinctive green-jacketed uniform and ceremonial sword. The Académie is considered the foremost authority on the French language and is responsible for publishing France’s official dictionary. At full capacity, the organization consists of forty members, who once elected serve for life. When one dies, the remaining members elect another illustrious author, poet, playwright, or historian to take his place.

Because of its status as a time-honored, government-sanctioned institution, the Académie not surprisingly has been subject to criticism from iconoclasts, among them Alphonse Daudet, who perceive the organization as stodgy, conformist, and conservative. In The Immortal, Daudet pokes fun at the selection process for membership, pointing out that it is based more on politics than on literary merit. The title of the book refers to Léonard Astier-Réhu, a historian, archivist, and collector of historical manuscripts. Now past the prime of his career and fallen on hard times, he clings to his Académie position—his last vestige of professional dignity—like a life preserver. In hopes of being elevated to a lofty officerial position within the organization, Astier-Réhu awaits the passing of a senior member. Meanwhile, his up-and-coming protége, the Vicomte de Freydet, likewise anticipates the next vacancy in hopes of being initiated into the ranks of the immortals.

Even if the angle Daudet takes on the Académie is cynical and sarcastic, over the course of the book the reader really does learn quite a bit about the institution. The book is aimed at a French audience, however, so some prior knowledge of the organization is assumed, which can make for tough going for the non-French reader. The idea of an official order that celebrates achievement in the humanities (or the arts, or the sciences) sounds like an admirable idea to this reader from America, a nation that celebrates its movie stars and sports heroes far more than its academics. Nevertheless, one can easily see how the election process might be rife with opportunities for bias, manipulation, and corruption, and Daudet is relentless in his lampooning of this process. While the novel is sometimes funny, however, it often merely amounts to a tedious bummer.

The truth is, there isn’t really a single character to like in this book. Beyond Astier-Réhu and his cronies in the Académie, we have his wife and son, who are busy scheming to arrange marriages to their advantage, thus adding immorality to insult. Honoré de Balzac was an expert at satire. He could create stories with comically self-serving protagonists, but somehow he also managed to endow them with identifiable qualities that rendered them inexplicably lovable. Not so with Daudet, whose pointed satire doesn’t bring a whole lot of joy, just bitterness and ugliness. Whether or not you choose to read this novel should depend on your level of interest in French literature. If you are curious about the Académie, then this book may be worth your time. If you just like 19th century fiction and are looking for a dose of French naturalism, stick with Emile Zola.
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