grows unproductive, he falls back upon by the discouraging influence of the the Premier-Paris. When readers times. M. Dumas has brought out are scarce for twelve-volume re- the final volume of " Les Quarante mances, and plays in ten acts and Cinq," a romance which we may obthirty tableaux cease to draw, he starts serve, en passant, is a scandalous speupon a fresh tack-proposes enlighten- cimen of what the French call faire la ing the public on politics, regenerating ligne-doing the line, writing against France through the leaders of a news paper, upon the Vauxhall principle of paper. We were greatly amused by making the smallest possible substance his advertisement of the journal, cover the utmost possible surface. It intending to act as lantern to this is pity to see a man of remarkable shining light of the new political day.' talent, which M. Dumas really is, thus "Our task is easy"-these were its con- degrading himself into a mere mercancluding words "Dieu dicle, nous écri- tile speculator, lumbering his books vons Setting aside the slight pro- with pages upon pages of useless and fanity of this startling assertion, one meaningless dialogue-if dialogue cannot but admire the characteristic that is to be called, of which the folmodesty of the self-conferred secre- lowing stuff is a specimen :taryship. We are assured, however, that M. Dumas has been found far less able and attractive at the head of the column, than he was in his old place at the foot of the page. "You are the Chevalier d'Artagnan." "Then let me pass." Why useless?" "Because his Eminence is not at home." "What! his Eminence is not at home! Where is he then ?" "Gone." "Gone?" "Yes." "Where?" &c., &c. The disjointed times being decidedly unfavourable to belles lettres, we were scarcely surprized at the first non-arrival of the monthly parcel, in which our punctual Paris agent is wont to forward us the literary novelties of the preceding thirty days. On a second and a third omission we grew uneasy, and suspected the Red Republicans of This is taken at random, from the abstracting our packages in transitu; volume last published of the Vicomte but absolved the democrats on receipt de Bragelonne, in which romance the of advice, that if the books did not marvellous and Crichtonian muskearrive, it was because they were not teers, brought forward again, when sent; and that if they were not sent, hard upon threescore, show less it was because there were none, or as sign of suffering from the march of good as none to send. At last a case years than does the narrative of their has reached us-half the usual size, adventures from its unconscionable but containing, nevertheless, the protraction. Much more than half French literature of the entire sum- the book is made up of such wearimer. A poor display indeed! The some conferences as that above-cited, pens of the novelists have shrivelled where the interlocutors carry on a sort in their grasp; their plump goose- of cut and thrust conversation, with quills have dwindled into emaciated an economy of words explicable by tooth-picks. Instead of the exuberant the fact that in a French feuilleton, eight-volume romance, with promise or volume, one word of dialogue of continuation, we have single volumes, meagre tales, that seem nipped in the bud, blighted by the breath of revolution. No author, not already involved in one of those tremendous series with which French writers have lately abused the public patience, now cares to exceed a volume or two. M. Sue, having got into the middle of the seven capital sins, is fain to flounder on through the ocean of iniquity; but his pen flags, evidently affected makes a line, as well as ten. With the assistance of his secretary, M. Maquet, and of his son, Alexander the Younger, M. Dumas gets through a prodigious amount of this sort of trash, at once productive to his pocket and damaging to his reputation; and then, when he finds publishers beginning to grumble, and the public detecting the device, and rejecting the windy repast, he applies himself in earnest, and produces something exceedingly good, of which he is quite ber the eagerness with which each capable, if once he gets the spur. It is successive feuilleton was looked for, to the necessity of thus occasionally re- during its appearance in that paper. deeming his reputation, that we are in- We ourselves abominate the feuilleton debted for the few really praiseworthy system, by which one is a year or two romances he has written for the Che- reading a book, imbibing it by daily valier d'Harmental, for the earlier por- crumbs, like the lady who eat her tion of the Mousquetaires, and for his pillau with a bodkin. We waited till master-piece, Le Comte de Monte the work was complete, and then read Christo. His enemies and libellers have it off the reel,-not at a sitting, cerasserted that the first named of these tainly, considering the length, but books was written by M. Maquet, and early and late, in bed and at board. only fathered by Dumas; but the as- And being somewhat fastidious in sertion is absurd, and is belied by the matter of novels, it is evident Monte book itself, replete with that vivid Christo must have great attractions animation which characterizes what thus to carry us at a canter through ever Alexander writes. Moreover, its interminable series of volumes. Its the man who could write such a novel chief fault is the usual one of its would have no need to purchase the author-exaggeration. We are sure name of M. Dumas. He would not M. Dumas is one of those persons who lack a publisher, and his reputation love to dream with their eyes openwould soon be made. We believe the to build themselves palaces in fairyfact to be, that Maquet is a sort of land, to arrange gardens after the industrious drudge, employed by Du- fashion of that of Eden, to furnish the mas to rummage Chronicles, and to most preterperfect of apartments with collate and write down historical inci- the most fabulous of furniture, to hang dents and facts, for his employer to diamonds on their trees, and a roc's distort and expand into romances. egg in their drawing-room. His airFor, as an historical romance writer, constructed castles find a site in the M. Dumas is utterly without a con- pages of his romances. The right way science. By him characters and to read them is to forget as fast as posevents are twisted and turned as sible the improbabilities and impossibest suits his convenience. "I have bilities. The supernatural being out twenty years' work before me," he of vogue, he does not give to Edmund is reported to have said, "to Dantes the lamp of Aladdin, but illustrate French history." Heaven (which is quite equivalent) a few knows what sort of an illustrator double handfuls of precious stones, he is! We would advise no one to whereof the smallest specimen is take their notions of French histori- caught at by a Jew for a thousand cal personages from M. Dumas' novels, pounds; whilst one of the largest, or from his history either-for he hollowed out, forms a convenient rewrites history also, at times, and the ceptacle for a score of pills, as big as only doubt is, which is the greatest peas, which it is the Count's custom fiction, his history or his romance. to carry about with him. With the But for the titles, it were not always aid of this incalcuable wealth, Dantes easy to distinguish between them. It pursues his grand scheme of revenge were unfair, however, whilst quizzing upon the persons to whom he is inhis absurdities, to lose sight of his debted for fourteen years' undeserved merits. These are numerous and re- imprisonment in the dungeons of the markable. His spirit and vivacity of Chateau d'If. Gold being the unistyle are extraordinary; and we can versal key, all doors fly open before call to mind no living writer superior him: nothing is impossible to the to him for invention. Monte Christo man who scatters millions upon the is his masterpiece. It is indeed a very path leading to the goal of his desires. striking and amusing book. With de- Take the treasure for granted, and fects that forbid our calling it a first- still there is much exaggeration to get rate romance of its class, it is yet far over; but there are also many truthmore entertaining than many that ful touches, many finely drawn chaclaim and obtain the title. The readers racters. How exquisitely tender of the Journal des Debats well remem- are some of the scenes between the writer of a small monthly satirical pamphlet, Les Guèpes, The Wasps, which has existed for several years, with varying, but, upon the whole, with very great success. M. Karr's wit is of a peculiar order, approaching more nearly to humour than French wit generally does. There is an odd sort of dryness and fantastic naïveté in some of his drolleries, quite distinct from what we are accustomed to in the comic writings of his countrymen. With this the German origin to be inferred from his name may have some connexion. There is also a Germanic vagueness and dreaminess in some of his books, although their scene is usually on French ground, frequently on the coast of Brittany, a country M. Karr evidently well knows and loves. One of his great recommendations is the general propriety of his writings. Of most of them, the tone and tendency are alike unexceptionable, and some are mere "simple stories," which the most fastidious papas-who deny that any good thing can proceed from a French dress, and look upon the yellow paper cover with "Paris" at its foot as the ineradicable mark of the beast, the moral quarantine flag, betokening uncleanness which no amount of lazaretto can purge or purifymight with safe conscience place in the hands of their blooming_artless sixteen-year-old daughters. The fact is, that people will read French novels -so long as they are not audaciously indecent, immoral, or irreligious-because the present race of French novelists are far cleverer and more amusing than their English brethren. And although some French novels are offensive and abominable, it is not fair to include all in the black list, or to deny that a great improvement has taken place since the period (the early years of the reign of the first and last King of the French) when the Paris press was clogged with indecency and infidelity. We should be very sorry to put Mrs. George Sand's works into the hands of any young woman; we would insult no woman, of any age, by commending to her notice obscene buffoonery of De Kock; but neither would we condemn the whole flock for a sprinkling of scabby sheep. There are many French writers of a very different stamp from the two just paralytic and his granddaughter; how capital and characteristic the interview between the old Italian gambler and the young French thief, when they are paid by the Count to consider each other as father and son! In this romance there is none of the make weight dialogue so lavishly interpolated in most of the same author's works. In style, too, and description, M. Dumas here rises above his average. His style, always lively and piquant, is usually loose, unpolished, and defaced by conventionalisms the Academy would hardly sanction. In Monte Christo he has evidently taken pains to do well, and the result is the best-written book he has yet produced. But we lose sight of our parcel, as yet but half unpacked. Here is a volume of the Député d'Arcis (another of the continuation family), heavy stuff, seemingly, by Balzac; and this brings us to the end of the continuations. With these exceptions, the French writers who have not altogether left off writing, have at least kept within circumscribed limits. Here we have a volume from M. Méry of Marseilles, a clever, careless writer, not much known in England; another by the authoress of Consuelo; two more from M. Alphonse Karr; a couple from that old sinner, Paul de Kock, who is not often so concise, having superadded, of late years, to his other transgressions the crime of long-windedness; a brief Sicilian sketch from M. Paul de Musset. We turn aside a heap of political matter, of no great merit or value; a few pamphlets, of some talent, but fugitive interest, by Girardin and others; a ream of portraits and caricatures; a few more novels whose authors' names or whose first pages condemn them; Mourir pour la Patrie, and some other revolutionary staves, bad music and worse words, and the box is empty. We sit down to peruse the little we have selected as worth perusal from the pile of printed paper. La Famille Alain, by Karr, is the first thing that comes to hand. We have read the greater part of it already, in the French periodical in which it first appeared. M. Karr is rather a favourite of ours. There are many good points about his novels, although he is, perhaps, less popular as a novelist than as the the named; and M. Karr is one of the better sort. The tale now before us is a Norman story, possessing better plot and incident than many of its predecessors; for in these respects, this author-from indolence, we suspect is often rather deficient. We need hardly tell our readers that the Norman is noted for his cunning, and for his litigious propensities, as the Gascon is for his boasting and vanity, the Lorrainer for his stolidity, &c., &c. In La Famille Alain, the characteristics of the province, and the casualties of the peasant's and fisherman's life, are cleverly illustrated. Tranquille Alaine, surnamed Risquetout, from certain bold feats of his earlier years, lives by the sea side on the produce of his nets. His family consists of his wife Pélagie, his sons and daughter, Cæsar, Onesimus, and Berenice, and of his foster-daughter Pulcherie. With respect to these magnificent names, M. Karr thinks it necessary to offer some explanation. "I am not their inventor," he says, "and they are very common in Normandy. There is not a village that has not its Berenices, its Artemesias, its Cleopatras. I know not whence the inhabitants originally took these names. Perhaps they were given by dames of high degree, who took them from Mademoiselle de Scudery's romances, to bestow them on their rustic god-children, and they have since remained traditional in the country." The book opens with the christening of a new fishing-boat, to build which Tranquille Alain has borrowed a hundred crowns of his cousin Eloi, miller and usurer. In France, as elsewhere, and especially in Normandy, millers have a roguish reputation. The loan is to be repaid, part at the beginning and part at the end of the fishing season, with twenty crowns interest. But the season sets in stormy and unfavourably; the fish shun the coast; and at the date appointed for the first payment, the debtor is unprepared with either principal or interest. At last the wind lulls, and the angry waves subside into a long sullen swell. Risquetout and his sons put to sea. "Towards the close of day, as the boats reappeared on the horizon, Eloi Alain came down from Beuzeval, and waited their arrival upon the beach. They had taken a few whitings. Onesimus was proud, because almost all the fish had been caught on his line. "Risquetout, who had started that morning rather prematurely, without waiting till the fine weather had thoroughly set in, had a feeling of fear and embarrassment at sight of the miller. "Have you caught anything? said Eloi. 66 6 A few whitings. Will you come and eat some with us?' "Eloi made no answer; but when the lines and fish had been taken out of the boat, and the boat had been washed and hauled up upon the shore, he followed the three fishers to their home. Pélagie also felt uneasy at sight of Eloi; she asked him, as Tranquille had done, if he would eat a whiting, to which he replied,— "Not to refuse you.' "Then, as they changed the fish from one basket to another, he took up two, and kept them a long time in his hands, repeating, Fine whitings these, very fine whitings until Pélagie said : : "You shall take them home with you, cousin.' 66 Eloi answered nothing; they sat down to dinner; he found the cider not very good, which did not prevent his drinking a great deal of it. "Well, Tranquille,' said he, at last, it is to-day you are to pay me the hundred and twenty crowns I lent you.' "Neither the intrepid Risquetout, nor any of his family, dared to observe that the loan was not of one hundred and twenty crowns, but only of one hundred crowns, for which a hundred and twenty were to be paid back. "True,' said Tranquille Alain, 'true; but the same reason which prevented my paying you the other day, prevents me to-day; to-day only have we been able to put to sea. "I am sadly inconvenienced for these hundred and twenty crowns I lent you, cousin. I had reckoned on them to employ in an affair-I had taken them from a sum I had in reserve-and here I am, distressed for want of them.' "I am sorrier for it than you are, cousin, but a little patience and all will go well.' "Tranquille did not dare say that 66 6 The two halves shall be paid together,' added Pélagie, bolder than her husband. "It is to-day the money would be useful to me; I miss an affair on which I should gain fifty crowns! It is very hard to have obliged people, and to find one's-self in difficulty in consequence. I am so much in want of money, Risquetout, that if you give me two hundred francs, I will return you these two bills of sixty crowns each.' "You know very well I have no money, Eloi.' “Never mind, it shows you what sacrifices I would make to-day, to receive what you owe me.' "Again no one dared tell the miller that he was not very sincere when he offered to sacrifice a hundred and sixty francs to obtain payment of a sum which would enable him, he said, to gain a hundred and fifty. "What is to be done?' said he. "I wish I had the money, Eloi.' "You say then that you cannot pay, till Michaelmas, the hundred and twenty crowns you should have paid to-day: 666 That is to say, cousin,' cried Pélagie, always bolder or less patient than her husband, that we should have given you half of it.' 66 6 Yes; but that half was due a fortnight ago; and, besides, I am in such want of that half, that-See here, now, I offered just now to give you back your bills for two hundred francs; well, pay me one, and I return you both. There is nothing stingy or greedy in that offer, I hope; I lent you a hundred and twenty crowns, and I cry quits for sixty. 66 6 Cousin, I repeat that I have no money, and besides, if I had sixty crowns, I would give them you, which would not prevent my giving you the sixty others later.' "It is sixty crowns that I lose on the affair I miss for want of money.' "Pélagie longed to remind Eloi that the profit sacrificed had been but fifty crowns a few minutes before, but she held her tongue. "I am no Turk,' continued the miller; I will renew your bills. Draw one of a hundred and fifty crowns payable at Michaelmas.' "The husband and wife exchanged a look. Pélagie spoke. "What, cousin! a hundred and fifty crowns! That makes, then, thirty crowns interest from now till Michaelmas, and that on sixty crowns, or rather on fifty, since only half the sum is due; and out of the sixty crowns ten are for interest.' 66 "I don't deny it. You think thirty crowns interest too much; well, I offer sixty for the same time. Give me sixty crowns, and I return the two bills, and thank you into the bargain, and you will have done me a famous service.' "Ah! cousin, I wish I had never borrowed this money of you! "I am sure I wish you had not; I should not be pinched for it to-day. And why am I? Because I won't get you into difficulties, for I might give your two bills in payment for the affair I speak of, and then you would be made to pay, or your boats would be sold; but I prefer being the loser myself, for after all, cousin, we are brothers' sons, and we must help one another in this world.' "Nevertheless, cousin, thirty crowns are a very high figure.' "Yes; and I should be quite content if you would give me sixty for the hundred and twenty I lent you; but, Lord bless me! add nothing to the bill, if you like-let me lose everything.' "It is fair to add something Eloi.' 66 6 Well, since you find thirty crowns too much, when I should be too happy to give sixty, add nothing, or add thirty crowns.' "Tranquille and his wife looked at each other. "I will do as you wish,' said Risquetout.' 686 Observe, said the miller, that it is not I who wish it. What I wish, on the contrary, is to see my hundred and twenty crowns which went out of my pocket, and to receive |