An old schoolmaster, whom Raymonde has deeply offended by upsetting his just-gathered mushrooms at the beginning of the book, and who is warmly attached to Antoine, turns out to be the girl's legal father—her mother, a disagreeable, handsome person, having been run away twenty years earlier by another character who has passed hitherto as respectable husband and paterfamilias.
 Excepting some of the "Johnny Ludlow" stories, which were, I think, in their kind, better than anything M. Ohnet ever did to my knowledge—I may perhaps observe that the above notice was written, exactly as it stands, before M. Ohnet's death, but under the impression that the death had occurred. When it did, there were things in the obituaries which made me raise my eyebrows. That he was a "belated Romantic" had certainly never occurred to me; but I have no quarrel with the description of him, in another place, as a practitioner of the roman bourgeois.
 V. sup. p. 277-280.
 The great scene in Mr. Disraeli's Young Duke, when that youthful nobleman loses, what is it? two hundred and seventeen thousand pounds, I think; the brief but poignant plucking of Mr. Dawkins; the occasion in Sans Merci where the hero will not lead trumps, and thereby, though not at once, seals his fate; and a quite nice game at Marmora in Mr. E. F. Benson's The Babe, B.A. emerge from many memories, reinforced by some of actual experience. Marmora is a nice game: with penny stakes, and three players only, you may have five pounds in the pool before you know where you are. But I do not know anything more really exciting than a game at which you guess how many marbles the other fellow holds in his fist. The sequel, however, in which you have to ask for an advance of pocket-money to settle your "differences", is not so pleasant.
 Another scene, which brings on the denouement and in which Claire is again supposed to have the beau role, does not please me much better. Thinking that her husband is flirting with the detested Duchess, she publicly orders her out of the house—a very natural, but a rather "fish-faggy" proceeding.
 It has been, and will be, pointed out that he was in all ways studious to run before the wind; and it was just at this time, if I remember rightly, that the catchword of "conflict" began to pester one in criticism. Perhaps this was the reason.
 The argument, or assumption rather, is all the odder because, on the one hand, orthodoxy holds Free-will (if it accepts that) as a Divine endowment of the Soul: and, on the other, serious Atheism is almost always Determinist. But the study of M. Ohnet was probably not much among the Sentences.
 The obituarist above mentioned, who thought M. Ohnet a belated Romantic, thought also that he was "struggling against the rising tide of Realism." I do not think you would ever have found him struggling against rising tides, and, as a matter of fact, the tide was already on the turn.
 Already mentioned in the case of M. Cherbuliez (v. sup. p. 447).
[Sidenote: Note on La Seconde Vie de M. T.]
The second part is occupied with two different but connected subjects. Suzanne, the first wife, dies suddenly, and the two daughters, the elder, Annie, quite, and the second, Laurence, nearly grown up—return to the custody of their father, and therefore to the society at least of his second wife, Blanche, who, though of course feeling the awkwardness, welcomes them as well as she can. The situation, though much more awkward, is something like that of Miss Yonge's Young Stepmother: but M. Rod makes it more tragic by Annie's death, partly in consequence of a love-marriage failing, through the lover's father's objection to the state of her family. The other subject is the gradual hankering of Michel after a return to political life, and his (consequentially inevitable) ratting from Right to Left. M. Rod brought into the matter direct reminiscences of the Parnell and Dilke cases, and possibly owed the conception of the whole book to them; but he has, as is sometimes his wont, rather "sicklied it over" with political and other discussion.
 A pleasant study, in poetic use of imagery and phrase, is the gradation from the bare and grand Lucretian simplicity of silentia noctis, through the "favour and prettiness" (slightly tautological though) of the Virgilian tacitae per amica silentia lunae, to the recovery and intensifying of magnificence in dove il sol tace. By the way, silentia (for the singular undergoes Quintilian's apology for the Latin -um) is one of the few instances in which a Latin word beats the Greek. [Greek: sige] is really inferior.
 What annoys him most of all is that he should have an uncomfortable feeling about the woman "comme si je l'avais aimee!" He had only, you see, done something else.
 They should not have done this, and I do not think they did; it was the couples that jostled them. And even this ought not to have happened. The fastest waltzing (I am speaking of the old deux-temps, which this must have been) conveyed an almost uncanny extra power of vision, and at the same time of avoidance, to the right persons. Indeed, the first three lines of this extract have been objected to as base and inconsistent. I think not; the common out of which you rise to the uncommon is worth indication.
 It may be added that the contrast of an earlier mazurka—in the slowness of which the pair had time to look at each other, feel each other, and otherwise remain in Paradise, but outside of the double Nirvana—is highly creditable. But I hope they waltzed to the mazurka. It is rather annoying to other people who are doing the orthodox step; but it is the perfection of the slow movement, which affords, as above, opportunities that do not exist in the faster and more delirious gyration.
 This (which may be called M. Rod's novel-headquarters) occurs also not merely in L'Eau Courante but in Les Roches Blanches, a book which opens very well in a Mrs. Gaskell or Mrs. Oliphant vein, with the introduction of a new pastor, but ends much less satisfactorily, with a guiltless but not at all convincing love-affair between this pastor and the wife of his chief parishioner.
 His wife for a time, Madame Judith Gautier, who died very recently, wrote in a fashion not unworthy of her blood both in verse and prose (part of her production being translations from Chinese), and was the only lady-member of the quaint Contre-academie formed by E. de Goncourt.
 And this shame becomes more acute when I think of one or two individual books, such especially as M. Henry Cochin's Manuscrit de Monsieur C. A. L. Larsonnier—a most pathetic and delightful story of a mental malady which makes time and memory seem to go backward though the victim can force himself to continue his ordinary duties, and record his sufferings.
The remaining pages of this book should be occupied partly with a continuation of a former chapter, partly with a summary of the whole volume, the combination, almost necessary in all cases, being specially motived in this by the overlappings referred to above, and a word added on the whole History. Not only did Victor Hugo hold, to French literature as well as to French poetry, something very like the position occupied by Tennyson and Browning in English poetry only, by covering every quarter of the century in whole or part with his work; but there was, even in France, nothing like the "general post" of disappearances and accessions which marked the period from 1820 to 1860 in English—a consequence necessarily of the later revival of French. No one except Chateaubriand corresponded to the crowd of distinguished writers who thus made their appearance, at the actual meeting of eighteenth and nineteenth, with us; and though, of course, there were exceptions, the general body of the French reinforcement did not dwindle much till 1870 onwards.
We noted that the first great development of the nineteenth-century novel was in the historical department, though many others made notable fresh starts: and we said something about the second development of the "ordinary" one which followed. It is this latter, of course, which has supplied the main material of the last third of the present volume, though (of course again) there have been many noteworthy and some great examples of the historical itself, of the supernatural, of the eccentric, and of many other kinds. But practically all who tried these later tried the ordinary, and a great many who tried the ordinary did not try the others. It is therefore on the development of the novel of common modern life that we must, at any rate for a little time, spend most of our attention here.
The fact of the change is indeed so certain and so obvious, that there is not much need to enforce or illustrate it, though it must be remembered that, on any true conception of history, the most obvious things are not those least worthy of being chronicled. Even Hugo, likely to be, and actually being, the most recalcitrant to the movement, comes close to modern times, and to such ordinary life as was possible to him, in Les Miserables and Les Travailleurs de la Mer. George Sand had begun as a sort of modernist; but by any one who can perform the (it is true not very easy) task of equating relative modernity, it will not be found that Mlle. la Quintinie, or even Flamarande, are more modern than Lelia or Valentine in the mere ratio of the dates. The ordinary life of the 'thirties and that of the 'sixties and 'seventies was no doubt different, but there is more than that difference in the books referred to. The artist is, consciously or unconsciously, trying to get nearer to her model or sitter. And this though George Sand was really almost as self-centred as Hugo, though in another way.
But it is, of course, in less idiosyncratic writers than these, who continued, and in others who began, to write at this time, that we must look for our real documents. Among the elder of this second class, Jules Sandeau's work is worth recurring to. He had sometimes gone a little earlier than his own time, and he had sometimes employed what is called—perhaps inconsiderately and certainly to some extent misleadingly—"romantic" incident in addition to purely novel-character and presentation. But his general manner of dealing reproduces itself, almost more than that of any of his contemporaries, in those novelists of the last quarter of the century who do not bow the knee to Naturalism: and one finds some actual recognition of the fact in dedications to him by younger novelists such as M. Andre Theuriet.
But, look where you will, the lesson is unmistakable. Take Alexandre Dumas fils, beginning with a Tristan le Roux and ending with an Affaire Clemenceau. Take Flaubert's Madame Bovary and L'Education Sentimentale, in comparison with which Salammbo and two of the Trois Contes (the other is quite in the general drift) are obvious variations, excursions, reliefs. Feuillet is practically (whatever may have been his early practice as a "devil"), when he takes to his own line, modern, and in a sense ordinary or nothing: Daudet the same. Naturalism en bloc would lose almost all pretence of justifying itself if it did not stick to the ordinary, or at least actual, though it may sometimes be a sort of transformed "ordinariness in abnormality." So great and so fertile a writer as Maupassant leaves us—except in his supernaturalisms—nothing at all that goes out of the actual probable or easily possible experience of a Frenchman of 1880-90. The four novelists who supply the bulk of the last chapter never outstep this. But since such indulgence in particulars may be thought mere driving at an open door, let us take the fact for granted, and turn to some consideration of its causes, results, conditions, features, and the like.
One of the causes is of such certainty and importance that a person, not indolent or prejudiced, might ask for no other. It is that sempiternal desire for change—that principle of revolution, which is so much more certain than any evolution, and which governs human life, though it is always bringing that life back to the old places, "camouflaged," as they say nowadays, in a fashion that disguises them to the simple. The romance of incident, historical and other, had had a long innings, and people were tired of it. But though this was undoubtedly the main influence, there were some others which it would be hardly judicious to neglect. It is true that the greatest of these were, in a fashion, only partial actions or reactions of the larger one already mentioned. Beyle and Balzac, the latter of course with important "colours" of his own, and even the former with some modifications, had, as men of genius generally do, felt or found the spirit of change early, and their audiences helped to spread it. And yet minor impulsions might be indicated. It is a commonplace that from the days of the Napoleonic War to the middle 'fifties there were few great European events; commercial progress, developments of colonisation, machinery, literature, and the arts, somewhat peddling politics, and the like taking the place of the big wars and the grandiose revolutions that ushered in the nineteenth century. But these mostly meaner things themselves claimed attention; they filled the life of men if they did not glorify it; classes and occupations which had been almost altogether non-vocal began to talk and be talked about, and so the change again held on.
Lastly, of course, there was the increase of education: with which the demand for fiction, plentiful in quantity and easily comprehended, was sure to grow.
On the whole, however, the results concern us more than the causes. What is the general character of this large province, or, looking at it in another way, of these accumulated crops, which the fifty years more specially in question saw added to the prose fiction of France?
The answer is pretty much what any wide student of history—political, social, literary, or other—would expect, supposing, which is of course in fact an impossibility, that he could come to the particular study "fresh and fasting." Novel-writing in France, as elsewhere, became more and more a business; and so, while the level of craftsmanship might be to some extent raised, the level of artistic excellence was correspondingly lowered. It has been before observed more than once that, to the present critic, only Flaubert and Maupassant of the writers we have been discussing in these later chapters can be credited with positive genius, unless the too often smoky and malodorous torch of Zola be admitted to qualify for the Procession of the Chosen. But when we take in the whole century the retrospect is very different; and while the later period may suffer slightly in the respect just indicated, the earlier affords it some compensation in the other noted point.
There is, indeed, no exact parallel, in any literature or any branch of literature within my knowledge, to the manifold development of the French novel during these hundred years. Our own experience in the same department cannot be set in any proper comparison with it, for the four great novelists of the mid-eighteenth century, and their followers from Miss Burney downwards, with the Terror and the Political schools of the extreme close, had advanced our starting-point so far that Scott and Miss Austen possessed advantages not open to any French writer. On the other hand, the Sensibility School, which was far more numerously attended in France than in England, gave other openings, which were taken advantage of in a special direction by Benjamin Constant, and much earlier and less brilliantly, but still with important results, by Madame de Montolieu. The age-long competence of the French in conte and nouvelle was always ready for fresh adaptation; and at the very beginning of the new century, and even earlier, two reinforcements of the most diverse character came to the French novel. Pigault-Lebrun and Ducray-Duminil (the earliest of whose novels appeared just before the Revolution as Pigault's debut was made just after it) may be said to have democratised the novel to nearly the full meaning of that much abused word. They lowered its value aesthetically, ethically (at least in Pigault's case, while Ducray's morality does not go much above the "Be amiable and honest" standard), logically, rhetorically, and in a good many other ways. But they did not merely increase the number of its readers; in so doing they multiplied correspondingly the number of its practitioners, and so they helped to make novel-writing a business and—through many failures and half-successes—to give it a sort of regularised practice, if not a theory.
Yet if this democratisation of the novel thus went partly but, as does all democratisation inevitably, to the degradation of it in quality, though to its increase in quantity, there were fortunately other influences at work to provide new reinforcements, themselves in some cases of quality invaluable. It has been admitted that neither Chateaubriand nor Madame de Stael can be said to have written a first-class novel—even Corinne can hardly be called that. But it is nearer thereto than anything that had been written since the first part of La Nouvelle Heloise: while Rene and Atala recover, and more than recover in tragic material, the narrative power of the best comic tales. And these isolated examples were of less importance for the actual history—being results of individual genius, which are not imitable—than certain more general characteristics of the two writers. Between them—a little perhaps owing to their social position, but much more by their pure literary quality—they reinstated the novel in the Upper House of literature itself. In Madame de Stael there was more than adequacy—in Chateaubriand there was sometimes consummateness—of style; in both, with whatever varnish of contemporary affectation, there was genuine nobility of thought. They both chose subjects worthy of their powers, and Madame de Stael at least contented herself with ordinary, or not very extraordinary, modern life. But the greatest things they did, from the historian's point of view, were introductions of the novel to new fields of exercise and endeavour. Art and religion were brought into its sphere, and if Les Natchez and Les Martyrs cannot exactly be called modern historical novels, they are considerable advances, both upon the model of Telemaque and upon that of Belisaire. And even putting this aside, the whole body of Chateaubriand's work, as well as not a little in Madame de Stael's, tended to introduce and to encourage the spirit of Romance.
Now the proposition which—though never, I trust, pushed to the unliterary extent of warping the judgment, and never yet, I hope, unduly flaunted or flourished in the reader's face—dominates this volume, is that Romanticism, or, to use the shorter and more glorious name, Romance, itself dominates the whole of the French nineteenth-century novel. If any one considers that this proposition is at variance with the other, that the main function of the novel during the period has been to bring the novel closer to ordinary life, he has failed to grasp what it might be presumptuous plumply to call the true meaning of Romance, but what is certainly that meaning as it has always appeared to me.
To attempt discussion, or even enumeration, of all the definitions or descriptions of Romance in general which have been given by others would not only be impossible in the space at command, but would be really irrelevant. As it happens, the matter can be cut short, without inadequacy and without disingenuousness, by quoting a single pair of epithets, affixed by a critic, for whom I have great respect, a day or two before I wrote these words. This critic held that Romantic treatment—in stage matters more particularly, but we can extend the phrase to fiction without unfairness—was "generous but false." I should call it "generous" certainly, but before all things "true." Nor is this a mere play upon the words of the original. It so happens that our friend the enemy has supplied a most admirable help. Legally, as we know, veracity requires "the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." I admit that the last clause will not fit Romance. She does give us something more than the truth, and that is her generosity, but it is a generosity which is necessitated by the fact that Romance is a quality or function not so much of nature essentially—though happily it is sometimes so by accident—as of Art, the essence of which is to require, whether it be art classic or art romantic, art of literature or art of design, art of sight or art of sound, something added to the truth—as that truth exists in reality.
Of what this addition is presently. But Romance, as I see it, insists upon and gives the truth and the whole truth of nature itself. Who is the greatest of Romantics? By agreement of all but the purblind and the paradoxer, Shakespeare. Who is the truest and the most universal of all writers? By consent of classic and romantic, at least of those of either kind who "count"—again Shakespeare. Let me say at once that, having early sworn allegiance to Logic, I am perfectly aware that a coincidence of two things in one person does not prove the identity of the things. But it proves their compossibility, and when it is found in excelsis, it surely goes near to prove a good deal more. Nor is one in the least confined to this argument from example, strong as it is. When you examine Classicism, which, whatever we may say or not say of it, will always stand as the opposite of Romance, you find that it always leaves something out. It may—it does in its best examples—give you truth; it may—it does in its best examples—add something which is its own "generosity"—its castigation, its order, its reason, its this and that and the other. To be very liberal, it may be admitted that the perpetual and meticulous presence in it of "Thou shalt not" do or say this or that, is most conspicuous—let us go to the extreme of generosity ourselves and say, is only conspicuous—in its feebler examples. But there is always something that it does not give, and some of us think that there are not a few things which it cannot give. There is nothing, not even ugliness itself, which Romance cannot give, though there its form of generosity comes in, and the ugly in simple essence becomes beautiful by treatment.
I could bestow any amount of tediousness in these generalities on my readers if I thought it necessary: but having developed my proposition and its meaning, I think it better to pass to the applications thereof in the present subject.
Of the wide extension of aim and object effected by Romantic influence in the novel, as in other departments of literature, there can be little denial, though of course it may be contended that this extension took place not as it ought and as it ought not. But of the fact of it and of the corresponding variety introduced with it, the very pioneers of the so-called Romantic movement give ample proof. We have seen this even in the extremely inchoate stage of the first two decades; when the great definitely Romantic leaders made their appearance it was more remarkable still. The four chief writers who gave the Romantic lead before 1830 itself may be taken to be Nodier, Hugo, Merimee, and Vigny. They stand in choice of subjects, as in treatment of them, wide apart; and just as it has been noted of Vigny's poetry, that its three chief pieces, "Eloa," "Dolorida," and "Le Cor" point the way to three quite different kinds of Romantic verse, so, confining ourselves to the same example, it may be repeated that Cinq-Mars and the smaller stories exemplify, and in a way pattern, kinds of Romantic prose fiction even further apart from each other. Always, through the work of these and that of Gautier, and of all the others who immediately or subsequently follow them, this broadening and branching out of the Romantic influence—this opening of fresh channels, historical and fanciful, supernatural and ordinary—shows itself. The contention, common in books, that this somehow ceased about the middle of the century, or at least died off with the death of those who had carried it out, appears to me, I confess, to be wildly unhistorical and uncritical. At no time—the proofs fill this volume—do we find any restriction, of choice of subject or conduct of treatment, to anything like the older limits. But the most unhistorical and the most uncritical form of this contention is the astonishing endeavour to vindicate a "classical" character for Naturalism. Most certainly there is "impropriety" in some of the classics and "impropriety" in all the Naturalists, but other resemblance I can see none. As for the argument that as Naturalism is opposed to Romance and Classicalism is opposed to Romance, therefore Naturalism is Classical—this is undoubtedly a very common form of bastard syllogism, but to labour at proving its bastardy would be somewhat ridiculous.
The fact is, as should have been sufficiently made good above, that Naturalism is not opposed to Romance in anything like the sense that Classicism is: it is nothing but a degradation and exaggeration at once of certain things in Romance itself. Nor do I think that there is the slightest difficulty in showing that every form of novel-writing which we have been surveying in this book—that the work of every one of those distinguished or undistinguished writers who have been, with or without regret, declined—is still essentially Romantic. It is Romantic in its inflexible resolution to choose subjects for itself and not according to rule; Romantic in its wise or unwise individuality of treatment; Romantic in its preferential appeal to emotion rather than to pure intelligence; above all, Romantic in its quest—often no doubt ill-guided and unsuccessful, but always more or less present—for that element of strangeness which, though invisible to many who live, is a pervading character of Life itself, and the presence of which it is the glory of Romance itself, from its earliest to its latest manifestations, to have recognised and to some extent fixed, in artistic representation. And so, I hope, that what has been discovered in this volume—in the way of pageant and procession even more than that of examination, though with something of that also—may have shown further progress towards—nay, actual attainment of, the goal which I ventured to mark out in the earlier volume as that of the novelist by the words, "Here is the whole of human life before you. Copy it or, better, re-create it—with variation and decoration ad libitum—as faithfully, but as fully, as you can."
Thesis-writing, however, is but dismal reading, unless (as Mrs. Scott told Jeffrey she hoped he was for the Marmion review) "you are very well paid for it." Nor do I, as I have previously explained, consider it a necessary part of history, though common honesty may require that the presence of a doctrine, behind the delivery of an account, should be confessed. I think the account itself should be sufficient to make good my point; others may differ. But even if they do, some of them at least will, I hope, have found in that account some modicum of the amazing supply of rest and refreshment contained in the mass of literature we have been surveying.
On the two volumes together there may be a little more to say. I have touched, I hope not too frequently, on the curious pleasure which I myself have felt in reading again books sometimes unopened for more than half a century, sometimes read at different times during that period, sometimes positively familiar; and on the contrasted enjoyment of reading others written long ago in all but a few cases, but not, as it happened, read at the time of their appearance. I am indeed inclined to lay much stress on the quality of re-readableness in a novel. Perhaps, as indeed is pretty generally the fact in such cases, a capacity of reading again is required in the person as well as one of being read again in the book. The late Mr. Mark Pattison was not a friend of mine, and we once had a pitched battle; nor was he in any case given to borrow other people's expressions. But he was a critic, if he was anything, and he once did me the honour to repeat verbatim—whether consciously or not I cannot say, but in the very periodical where it had originally appeared—a sentence of mine about "people who would rather read any circulating-library trash, for the first time, than Pendennis or Pride and Prejudice for the second." I think this difference between the two classes is as worthy to rank, among the criteria of opposed races of mankind and womankind, as those between borrowers and lenders, Platonists and Aristotelians, or Big- and Little-Endians.
But the vast library through which I have had the privilege of conducting my readers does not exercise any invidious separation between the two. I have read a good many French novels—hundreds certainly, I do not know that it would be preposterous to say thousands—that I have not even mentioned in this book. But I have been a very busy man, and have had to read and to do a great many other things. If I had had nothing else to do and had devoted my entire life to the occupation which Gray thought not undesirable as regards Marivaux and Crebillon, I doubt whether I could have "overtaken," as the Scotch say, the entire prose fiction of 1800-1900 in French. On the back of one of the volumes of fiction—itself pretty obscure—which I have noticed in Chapter II. of this volume, I find advertised the works of a certain Dinocourt, of whom I never heard before, and who is not to be found in at least some tolerably full French dictionaries of literature. They have quite appetising titles (one or two given in the passage referred to), and there are in all sixty-two volumes of them, distributed in fours, fives, and sixes among the several works. Ought I to have read these sixty odd volumes of Dinocourt? That is a moral question. That there are sixty odd volumes of him, probably not now very easily obtainable, but somewhere for some one to read if he likes, is a simple fact. And there are no doubt many more than sixty such batches waiting likewise, and quite likely to prove as readable as I found M. Ricard.
I have by no means always felt inclined to acquiesce in the endlessly repeated complaints that the hackwork of literature is worse done in England than it is in France. But having had a very large experience of the novels of both languages, having reviewed hundreds of English novels side by side with hundreds of French as they came from the press, and having also read, for pleasure or duty, hundreds of older ones in each literature, I think that the mysterious quality of readableness pure and simple has more generally belonged to the French novel than to the English. This, as I have endeavoured to point out, is not a question of naughtiness or niceness, of candour or convention. I have indeed admitted that the conventions of the French novel bore me quite as much as anything in ours. It may be partly a question of length, for, as everybody knows, the French took to the average single volume, of some three hundred not very closely printed pages, much sooner than we took to anything of the kind. It is perhaps partly also due to what one of the reviewers of my former volume well called the greater "spaciousness" of the English novel, that is to say, its inclusion of more diverse aims, and episodic subjects, and minor interests generally. For this, while it makes for superior greatness when there is strength enough to carry it off, undoubtedly requires more strength, and so gives more openings for weakness to show itself. There are many average English novels which I should not mind reading, and not a few that I should like to read, again, while there are but few French novels that I should care to read so often as I have cared to read the great English ones. But I could read, for a second time, a very much larger proportion of average French fiction.
Of those books which are "above average" I have tried to say what I thought ought to be said in the volume itself, and there is no need of a "peroration with much circumstance" about them. It is a long way—a perfect maze of long ways leading through the most different countries of thought and feeling—from Atala dying in the wilderness to Chiffon doing exquisitely balanced justice to herself and the Jesuit, by allowing that while he and she were both bien eleves, he was un peu trop and she was not. It is not so far, except in time, nor separated by such a difference of intervening country, from the song of the Mandragore in Nodier to those muffled shrieks of a better-known variety of the same mystic plant, that tell us of Maupassant's growing progress to his fate. As you explore the time and the space of the interval you come across wonderful things. There are the micro- macrocosms of Hugo, where, as in Baudelaire's line on the albatross quoted above, he is partly hampered because he has come down from the air of poetry to the earth of prose; of Balzac, where there is no such difficulty, but where the cosmos itself is something other than yours; of Dumas, where half the actual history of France is disrealised for your delectation. On a lesser scale you have the manners of town and country, of high life and low life, of Paris most of all, given you through all sorts of perspectives and in all sorts of settings by Paul de Kock and George Sand, by Sandeau and Bernard, by Alexandre Dumas fils and Feuillet, by Theuriet and Fabre. Gautier and Merimee make for you that marriage of story and style which, before them, so few had attempted at all, yet which, since them, so many have tried with such doubtful success. Once more in Flaubert and then for the last time, as far as our survey goes, in Maupassant, you come to that touch of genius which exalts the novel, as it exalts all kinds, indefinably, unmistakably, finally.
And this journey is not like the one great journey, and more than one of the lesser journeys, of our life, irremeable; there is no denial, no curse, no fiend with outstretched claw, to prevent your going back as often as you like, wandering in any direction you please, passing or staying as and where you wish. It has been perhaps unconscionable of me to inflict so big a book on my readers as a cover for giving myself the pleasure of making and remaking such journeys. But if I have persuaded any one of them to explore the country for himself, by him at least I shall not remain unforgiven.
 V. sup. "The French Novel in 1850."
 Called by some a "deadening" one. There was some very cheerful Life in that Death.
 The better part even of M. Ohnet is a sort of vulgarised Sandeau.
 La Tentation, like others of the very greatest novels, is independent of its time, save in mere unimportant "colour."
 How little this change was one back to classicism—as some would have it—we may see presently.
 The greatest of all—the direction and maintenance of the revolution under the inspiration of what is called Romance—must be again postponed for a little while.
 Of course the convulsions of '48 were ominous enough, but they seemed to be everywhere repressed or placated for a considerable time; and if there had been a single statesman of genius besides Herr von Bismarck (I anticipate but decline the suggestion of Cavour) in the Europe of the next two decades, they might not have broken out again for a much longer time than was actually the case.
 Nearly—but fortunately for literature—not quite. The jobbery and the tyranny which are inseparable from democracy in politics find room with difficulty in our "Republic."
 I am prepared for blame on account of some of the absences of mention. Perhaps the most provoking, to some readers, will be those affecting two industrious members of the aristocracy: Mme. la Comtesse Dash—more beautifully and properly though less exaltedly, Gabrelli Anna Cisterne de Courtiras, Vicomtesse de Saint-Mars—and M. le Comte Xavier de Montepin. They overlapped each other in pouring forth, from the 'forties to the 'nineties, torrents of mostly sensational fiction. But I had rather read them than write about them.
 In the same place another novelist, M. Amedee de Bast, of whom I again acknowledge ignorance, advertises no less than four novels of four volumes each, as being actually all at press, pour paraitre a diverses epoques. Dryden says somewhere "in epoches mistakes." Let us hope there were none here.
DATES OF PUBLICATION OF NOVELS ARRANGED UNDER AUTHOR'S NAMES IN THE ORDER OF NOTICE HERE
(These dates are given subject to the caution stated under Addenda and Corrigenda for Vol. I., p. xvii of this present volume. It has not been thought necessary to add editions, etc., as was done in Vol. I.: almost all the books referred to being in common sale. For dates of the authors themselves, see Index as before. Those of some books merely glanced at are excluded to save room.)
Stael, Mme. de. Delphine, 1802; Corinne, 1807.
Chateaubriand. Atala, 1801, in the Mercure; Rene, 1802, in Genie du Christianisme, 1805; Le Dernier Abencerage, 1805; Les Martyrs, 1809; Les Natchez in Oeuvres Completes, 1826-31.
Paul de Kock. L'Enfant de ma Femme, 1812; Gustave, 1821; La Femme, le Mari et l'Amant, 1829; Edmond et sa Cousine, 1843; Andre le Savoyard, 1825; Jean, 1828. Mon Voisin Raymond; 1822; Le Barbier de Paris, 1826.
Ducray-Duminil. Fanfan et Lolotte, 1787; Le Petit Carillonneur, 1809.
Ducange, V. L'Artiste et la Soldat, 1827; Ludovica, 1830.
Montolieu, Mme. de. Caroline de Lichtfield, 1786.
Ricard, A. L'Ouvreuse de Loges, 1829-32.
Arlincourt, Vicomte d'. Le Solitaire, 1821.
Nodier, Charles. Les Proscrits, Le Peintre de Salzbourg, etc., 1802-6; Jean Sbogar, 1818; Smarra, 1821; Trilby, 1822; La Fee aux Miettes, 1831.
Hugo, Victor. Han d'Islande, 1823; Bug-Jargal, 1824-26; Notre Dame de Paris, 1830; Les Miserables, 1862; Les Travailleurs de la Mer, 1866; L'Homme qui Rit, 1869; Quatre-Vingt-Treize, 1873.
Beyle, Henri. Armance, 1827; Le Rouge et le Noir, 1830; La Chartreuse de Parme, 1839; L'Abbesse de Castro, 1832. First set of posthumous Nouvelles, etc., 1854 onwards; second ditto (Lamiel, etc.), 1887 onwards.
Balzac, H. de. Most of the Juvenilia were written, alone or in collaboration, during the years 1821, 1822, 1823, and 1824, but the period of the whole extends to that of Les Chouans (originally Le Dernier Chouan), 1829. The dates of the rest, especially considering their frequent rearrangement, are too numerous to give. Those chiefly commented on in text appeared as follows: Le Peau de Chagrin, 1831; Eugenie Grandet, 1833; Le Pere Goriot, 1834; Les Parents Pauvres, 1846-47.
Sand, George. Indiana, 1832; Valentine, 1832; Lelia, 1833; Consuelo, 1842-43; La Comtesse de Rudolstadt, 1844-45; Lucrezia Floriani, 1847; Elle et Lui, 1859; Un Hiver a Majorque, 1842; La Mare au Diable, 1846; La Petite Fadette, 1840; F. le Champi, 1849; Mauprat, 1837; La Daniella, 1857; Les Beaux Messieurs de Bois-Dore, 1858; Le Marquis de Villemer, 1861; Mlle. la Quintinie, 1863; Flamarande, 1875.
Gautier, Theophile. Les Jeune-France, 1833; Mlle. de Maupin, 1835; Fortunio, 1838; Nouvelles, 1845; Jettatura, 1857; Le Capitaine Fracasse, 1863; Spirite, 1866.
Merimee, Prosper. (Clara Gazul, 1825; La Guzla, 1827; Le Carrosse du Saint-Sacrement, part of Clara Gazul originally, did not reach the stage till 1850.) La Jacquerie, 1828; Chronique de Charles IX, 1829. Most of the stories, including Colomba, appeared between 1830 and 1840. Carmen, 1847; Dernieres Nouvelles, 1873.
Musset, A. de. Most of the stories noticed in text appeared originally after 1840 in the Revue des Deux Mondes, and were not collected till after his death in 1857. Mimi Pinson had been published in 1852.
Gerard de Nerval. Work noticed appeared sporadically, in many papers and some books, between 1828 and his death in 1855. The best edition of the Oeuvres Completes is of 1868.
Vigny, A. de. Cinq-Mars, 1826; Stello, 1832; Servitude et Grandeur Militaires, 1835.
Fromentin, Eugene. Dominique, 1863.
Sainte-Beuve, C. A. Volupte, 1834.
Bernard, Ch. de. Gerfaut, 1838; Le Noeud Gordien, 1838; Le Paravent, 1839. The rest between 1840 and his death in 1850.
Sandeau, Jules. Marianna, 1839; Fernand, 1844; Valcreuse, 1846; La Roche aux Mouettes, 1871; Mlle. de La Seigliere, 1851; Sacs et Parchemins, 1851; Mlle. de Kerouare, 1842; La Maison de Penarvon, 1858.
Sue, Eugene. Le Coucaratcha, 1832-34; La Vigie de Koatven, 1833; Les Mysteres de Paris, 1842-43; Le Juif Errant, 1844-45; Les Sept Peches Capitaux, 1847-49.
Soulie, Frederic. Memoires du Diable, 1837-38; Le Lion Amoureux, 1839; Le Chateau des Pyrenees, 1843.
Murger, Henri. [Scenes de] La Vie de Boheme, 1851; Les Buveurs d'Eau, 1855; Adeline Protat, 1853; Le Sabot Rouge, 1860. (Shorter stories at different dates between 1848 (?) and his death in 1861.)
Reybaud, Louis. Jerome Paturot, Part I., 1843; Jerome Paturot, Part II., 1848.
Mery, Joseph. Les Nuits Anglaises, 1853.
Karr, Alphonse. Sous les Tilleuls, 1832.
Beauvoir, Roger de. _Stories mostly, 1832-53.
Ourliac, Edouard. Stories mostly, 1835-48.
Achard, Amedee. Belle-Rose, 1847.
Souvestre, Emile. Les Derniers Bretons, 1835-37; Le Foyer Breton, 1844; Un Philosophe sous les Toits, 1850.
Feval, Paul. La Fee des Greves, 1851.
Borel, Petrus. Champavert, 1833; Madame Putiphar, 1839.
Dumas pere. Isabeau? [-bel? -belle?] de Baviere, 1835; Le Comte de Monte Cristo, 1844-45; Les Trois Mousquetaires, 1844; Vingt Ans Apres, 1845; La Reine Margot, 1845; Le Vicomte de Bragelonne, 1848-50.
The sequels of La Reine Margot and the major part of the eighteenth-century series appeared between 1846 and 1850; Olympe de Cleves in 1852; Les Louves de Machecoul in 1859. Little of real value in novel later. The period of chief attack on him for plagiarism, supercherie, "novel-manufacture," etc., was 1845-48.
Dumas fils. Tristan le Roux, 1850; La Dame aux Camelias, 1848; Antonine, 1849; La Vie a Vingt Ans, 1854; Aventures de Quatre Femmes et d'un Perroquet, 1846-47; Trois Hommes Forts, 1851; Diane de Lys, 1853; Affaire Clemenceau, 1866; Ilka, 1895.
Janin, Jules. L'Ane Mort et la Femme Guillotinee, 1829; Barnave, 1831.
Flaubert, Gustave. Madame Bovary, 1857; Salammbo, 1862; L'Education Sentimentale, 1869; La Tentation de Saint-Antoine, 1848-74; Trois Contes, 1877; Bouvard et Pecuchet, 1881.
Feuillet, Octave. Le Roman d'un jeune homme pauvre, 1858; M. de Camors, 1867; La Petite Comtesse, 1857; Julia de Trecoeur, 1872; Honneur d'Artiste, 1890; La Morte, 1886.
Daudet, Alphonse. Le Petit Chose, 1868; Robert Helmont, 1876; Lettres de Mon Moulin, 1869; Jack, 1862; Tartarin de Tarascon, 1872; Le Nabob, 1877; Les Rois en Exil, 1879; Numa Roumestan, 1890; L'Evangeliste, 1883; Sapho, 1884; L'Immortel, 1888.
About, Edmond. Le Roi des Montagnes, 1856; Tolla, 1855; Germaine, 1867; Madelon, 1863; Maitre Pierre, 1858.
Ponson du Terrail, Pierre A. Rocambole, 1859; Les Gandins, 1861.
Gaboriau, Emile. L'Affaire Lerouge, 1866.
Feydeau, Ernest. Fanny, 1858; Sylvie, 1861; Daniel, 1859.
Droz, Gustave. Monsieur, Madame et Bebe, 1866; Entre Nous, 1867.
Cherbuliez, Victor. Le Comte Kostia, 1863; Le Roman d'une Honnete Femme, 1867; Meta Holdenis, 1873; Miss Rovel, 1875; Samuel Brohl et Cie, 1877; Olivier Maugant, 1885.
Barbey d'Aurevilly, Jules. Les Diaboliques, 1874; L'Ensorcelee, 1854; Un Prete Marie, 1865.
Cladel, Leon. Les Va-nu-pieds, 1873; Crete-Rouge, 1880; La Fete Votive de Saint-Bartholomee Porte-Glaive, 1872.
Champfleury. Les Excentriques, 1852; Madame Eugenio, 1874.
Goncourt, E. and J. Dates in text: from 1860 to 1870.
—— E. only. Cherie, 1884.
Zola, E. Contes a Ninon, 1864; L'Attaque du Moulin, 1880; The Rougon-Macquart books, 1871-93; "Les Trois Villes," 1894-98; "Les Quatre Evangiles," 1890-1903.
Maupassant, Guy de. Boule de Suif, 1880; La Maison Tellier, 1881; Bel-Ami, 1885; Une Vie, 1883; Pierre et Jean, 1888; Fort comme la Mort, 1889; Notre Coeur, 1890. Smaller Tales, 1880-93, and posthumously.
Huysmans, J. K. Contribution to Les Soirees de Medan, 1880; Les Soeurs Vatard, 1879; La-Bas, 1891; A Rebours, 1884.
Belot, Adolphe. Mlle. Giraud ma Femme, 1870; La Femme de Feu, 1872.
Fabre, Ferdinand. L'Abbe Tigrane, 1873; Norine, 1889; Le Marquis de Pierrerue, 1874; Mon Oncle Celestin, 1881; Lucifer, 1884; Taillevent, 1894; Toussaint Galabru, 1887.
Theuriet, Andre. Sauvageonne, 1881; Raymonde, 1877; Le Fils Maugars, 1879.
Ohnet, Georges. Serge Panine, 1881; Le Maitre de Forges, 1882; Le Docteur Rameau, 1888; La Grande Marniere, 1885.
Rod, Edouard. La Course a la Mort, 1885; Le Sens de la Vie, 1889; La Vie Privee de Michel Teissier, 1893 (2nd part, 1894); La Sacrifiee, 1892; Le Silence, 1894; La-Haut, 1897; L'Eau Courante, 1902.
Mendes, Catulle. Lesbia, 1886.
(In a not inconsiderable number of cases a difference of one year will be found, from the dates as given in some reference books. This, which renews the elder trouble of "Old" and "New" Style, arises, probably, if not certainly, from the fact of the book having appeared late in autumn or early in spring, with a title-page, anticipatory or retrospective, as the case may be. The same thing occurs, of course, with English books; but not, I think, so often. French books, moreover, unless I am mistaken, not infrequently appear with no date on title-page.)
(This Index has been constructed on the same principles as that of Vol. I. But the full names, birth- and death-dates, titles, etc., of authors included in the former Index are not repeated here.)
Abencerage, Le Dernier, 20 note
About, Edmond (1828-1885), 427-436
Achard, Amedee, 281, 319-321, 349
Acta Sanctorum, 408
Addison, 46 note
Adele et Theodore, 68
Adeline Protat, 305
Adolphe, 3, 17, 286, 336, 346 note
Affaire Clemenceau, 388-395, 400, 558
Agamemnon, the, 26
Ainsworth, H., 321, 351
Ames du Purgatoire, Les, 240
Amours de Philippe, Les, 418
Anatomy of Melancholy, The, 240 note
Andre le Savoyard, 9, 50, 51
Angelique, 259 note
Anti-Jacobin, The, 31
A Rebours, 515
Aristophanes, 404, 409 note
Arlincourt (Charles Victoire Prevot, Vicomte d', 1789-1856), x, 40, 44 note, 78-80, 352 note
Arnold, Mr. M., 25, 28, 35, 97, 164, 279, 412, 436, 444, 520
Arsene Guillot, 241
Astree, the, 62, 201 note, 350
As You Like It, 137, 235
Atala, 20 sq., 561, 569
Aubigne, Agrippa d', 262
Augier, E., 290
Aurelia, 257 sq.
Aurora Leigh, 297
Austen, Miss, 142, 168, 194, 295 note, 353, 358, 537, 560
Adventures de Quatre Femmes et d'un Perroquet, 379, 380
Babe, B.A., The, 537 note
Bal de Sceaux, Le, 162
Balzac, Honore de (1799-1850), v, 64, 133, 135 note, 146, 147 note, 152-175, 177, 198, 208, 227, 231 note, 240, 282, 289, 293, 343, 347, 348, 363, 364, 386, 423, 432 note, 434, 436 note, 472, 559, 569
Baptiste Montauban, 86
Barbey d'Aurevilly, Jules (1808-1889), 401, 449-455, 505 note
Barbiere de Paris, Le, 58, 59
Barnaby Rudge, 47 note
Bast, A. de, 568 note
Batard de Mauleon, Le, 328
Battuecas, Les, 68
Baudelaire, Charles Pierre (1821-1867), 15, 131 note, 228, 255 note, 412, 413, note, 450 and note, 451, 485, 491, 515, 516, 569
Beatrix, 165, 177
Beau Pecopin, Le, 110
Beauvoir, Roger de (Edouard-Roger de Bully, 1809-1866), 317, 318
Beaux Messieurs de Bois-Dore, Les, 179 sq.
Beckford (the father), 271 note
Beckford (the son), xix
Bedford Row Conspiracy, The, 294
Bedier, M., xiii
Bel-Ami, 486 sq.
Belinda, 419 note
Beljame, M., 347 note
Belle-Rose, 320, 321
Belot, Adolphe (1829-1890), 516, 517
Benson, Mr. E. F., 537 note
Beranger, 41 note, 60
Bernard (Charles de Bernard du Grail de la Villette, 1805-1850), v, 208, 237, 240, 281, 289-296, 306, 317, 343, 569
Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, 18, 22, 101
Bertrand, Louis [or Aloysius] Jacques Napoleon (1807-1841), 82, 228
Bevis of Hampton, 124
Beyle, Marie Henri (1783-1842), vi, 133-152, 169, 273, 336, 343, 348, 356, 363, 396, 559
Bismarck, 559 note
Blake, 10 note, 188, 281, 317, 318 and note, 479, 527
Blennerhassett, Lady, 8
Boheme Galante, La, 257 sq.
Bookman's Budget, A, 488 note
Borel, Pierre or Petrus d'Hauterive (1809-1859), 322, 371, 453
Borrow, G., 238, 256, 436 note
Bossuet, 37 note
Boule de Suif, 468, 473, 485 sq.
Bourget, M. P., 554
Bouvard et Pecuchet, 401 note and sq.
Bovary, Madame, 400 sq.
Braddon, Miss, 205, 457
Bradlaugh, Mr., 396
Bright, Mr., 315
Britannia, The, 52, 53 notes
Broadhead, Mr., 115 note
Bronte, Charlotte, 192
Browne, Sir T., vii, 205
Browning, 141, 159 note, 261, 486, 497, 521 note, 556
Browning, Mrs., 297
Brunetiere, M., 166 note, 167, 168, 173, 293, 295, 335, 459
Buchanan, Mr., 380
Bug-Jargal, 100, 101, 130, 158
Bulwer (the first Lord Lytton), 180, 317, 351
Burney, Miss, 65, 192, 560
Burns, 348 note
Burton (of the Anatomy), 246 note, 409 note, 414
Buveurs d'Eau, Les, 305-306
Byron, 14, 19, 25 and note, 78, 135 note, 147 note, 154, 184, 352, 455 note
Cabaret des Morts, Le, 317, 318
Cabet, 297 note
Caird, E., xi
Camp of Refuge, The, 342
Canticles, the, 497
Capitaine Burle, Le, 473
Capitaine Fracasse, Le, 58, 234
Carlyle, Mr., 16, 64, 111, 115, 400 note, 444, 478, 486
Carmen, 237 sq.
Caroline de Lichtfield, 65-68
Carrosse du Saint-Sacrement, Le, 250-251
Cas de Rupture, Un, 384
Castle of Otranto, The, 170
Castor, Le, 305
Castries, Mme. de, 282
Cattermole, 47 note
Cavour, 559 note
Celle-ci et Celle-la, 231
Cesarine, 495 note, 554
Chalis, Mme. de, 442
Chambre Bleue, La, 247-248
Champavert, 322, 371, 453
Champfleury (Jules Fleury Husson, 1821-1889), 449, 455-458
Charrieres, Mme. de, xix
Chartreuse de Parme, La, 137-140, 152 note
Chastes, Ph., 167
Chasseur Vert, Le, 148-150
Chateaubriand (Francois Auguste, Vicomte de, 1768-1848), vi, ix, 1, 2, 18-38, 78, 80, 209, 282, 343, 346, 347, 351, 356, 472, 561, 562
Chateau de la Misere, Le, 90 note, 234, 339
Chateau des Pyrenees, Le, 298-300
Chateau d'If, Le, 330
Chatiments, Les, 110
Chatterton, 266, 271, 272
Chef-d'Oeuvre Inconnu, Le, 162
Chenier, A., 266 sq.
Cherbuliez, Victor (1829-1899), v, 446-449
Chester, T., xiii
Chesterfield, Lord, 464
Chevalier de Maison Rouge, 328
Chevalier d'Harmental, 330
Chevaliers du Cygne, Les, 69
Chevre de M. Seguin, La, 425
Chiffon, Le Mariage de, 554, 569
Chopin, 177 note and sq.
Chouans, Les, 64, 152 sq.
Christophe et Cerfbeer, MM., 153, 157 note
"Christopher North" (Prof. Wilson), 261
Chronique de Charles IX, 58, 248-249
Ciel et l'Enfer, Le, 251
Cinq-Mars, 262 sq., 332, 564
Cladel, Leon (1835-1892), 449-451
Clare (the poet), 268
Clarissa, 111, 419
Clarissa Furiosa, 144 note
Claude Gueux, 102, 103, 111
Cloister and the Hearth, The, 141, 351
Cochin, M. Henry, 554 note
Coeur Simple, Un, 407 sq.
Colline, Histoire d'une, 314-315
Colomba, 239 sq.
Colomban, Le R. P., 521, 522
Combe de l'Homme mort, La, 86
Comedie Humaine. See Balzac
Comte de Corke, Le, 69
Comte Kostia, Le, 448
Comtesse de Rudolstadt, La, 179 sq.
Constant, B., xix, 2 note, 3, 346, 560
Consuelo, 179 sq.
Contemplations, Les, 110
Contes a Ninon, 473
Contes de la Becasse, 501 sq.
Contes Drolatiques, 58, 160 note, 162, 163
Contes du Bocage, 318, 319
Contes et Nouvelles (Dumas fils), 387
Corinne, vi, 7-91, 38, 106, 201, 561
Corneille, 34, 262, 291
Course a la Mort, La, 584 sq.
Cousin Pons, Le, 164
Cousine Bette, La, 157 sq.
Crebillon fils, 46, 209, 231, 250, 355, 362, 367 note, 386, 471, 497, 567
Crime de Silvestre Bonnard, Le, 554
Croce, Signor B., xi
Croft, Sir H., 81, 86
Crofton Boys, The, 505 note
Croisilles, 254 note
Croix de Berny, La, 312 note
Cromwell, 105 note
Cruikshank, 47 note
Dame aux Camelias, La, 367 sq., 389
Dame de Monsoreau, La, 329
Daniella, La, 201
Dante, 29 note, 188, 512, 546
Darmesteter, M., 358
"Dash," La Comtesse (1804-1872), 567 note
Daudet, Alphonse (1840-1897), 414, 422-427, 452, 461, 463, 465, 522, 558
Daudet, Ernest, 422 note
Daumier, 47, 456
Day, Thomas, 70
Dead Leman, The, 210 note
Defoe, 287, 362
De l'Amour, 135 note
Delphine, vi, 2-7, 9
Demoiselles de Magazin, Les, 61
De Quincey, 35, 256, 258, 298
Dernier Jour d'un Condamne, Le, 101, 102, 111
Derniers Bretons, Les, 321
Desbordes-Valmore, Mme., 283
Des Vers, 484
Deux Freres, Les, 204
Deux Maitresses, Les, 253
Diable Amoureux, Le, 81, 251
Diaboliques, Les, 450 sq., 505 note
Diane de Lys, 382, 383
Dickens, 62, 111, 128, 129, 170, 173, 258, 325, 331, 348, 423, 425, 444, 456, 486, 557
Diderot, 228, 236, 256, 434, 471
Dies Irae, 513
Dimanches d'un Bourgeois de Paris, Les, 499
Disraeli, Mr., 423, 537 note
Dobson, Mr. A., 488 note
Docteur Rameau, Le, 535 sq.
Docteur Servans, Le, 384-385
Dominique, 277-280, 356, 537
Don Juan de Vireloup, Le, 532 sq.
Donne, 26, 290 note, 497
Dot de Suzette, La, 76 note
Droz, Antoine Gustave (1832-1895), 443-446
Dryden, 568 note
Du Camp, Maxime, 400 note
Ducange (Victor Henri Joseph Brahain, 1783-1833), 40, 71-75, 77, 158
Ducray-Duminil, Francois Guillaume (1761-1819), x, 40, 64, 70, 71, 98, 158, 560, 561
Dudevant, Amantine Lucile Aurore (1804-1876). See Sand, George
Dumas pere, Alexandre (1803-1870), v, 58, 64, 128, 133, 147 note, 228, 234, 249, 264, 281, 289, 298, 307, 319, 323-342, 348, 351, 352, 354, 357, 359, 361 note, 522, 569
Dumas fils, Alexandre (1824-1895), viii, 153, 344, 362, 363, 365-396, 414, 463, 558, 569
Du Maurier, Mr., 82
Eccelino da Romano (Ezzelin), 115 note
Ecclesiastes, 26, 492
Edgeworth, Miss, 69, 419 note
Edmond et sa Cousine, 48-50
Egan, Pierce, 44
Elle et Lui, 177 note and sq.
Elton, Prof., xii
Empress of Morocco, The, 523 note
Encyclopaedia Britannica, 373
Entre Nous, 443 sq.
Epicurean, The, 37
Erckmann (1822-1899)-Chatrian (1826-1890), 458 note
Esmond, 351, 354
Eugenie Grandet, 157 sq.
Excentriques, Les, 449, 455 sq.
Fabre, Ferdinand (1830-1898), 278, 279, 452, 518-529, 569
Faerie Queene, The, 354 note
Faguet, M., 155
Famille Carvajal, La, 251
Family Herald, The, 71
Fanfarlo, La, 450 note
Faux Saulniers, Les, 259 note
Fee aux Miettes, La, 81 sq., 258
Fee des Greves, La, 321
Femme Immortelle, La, 438
Feuillet, Octave (1822-1890), v, 67, 169, 204, 326, 381 note, 386, 414-422, 447, 449, 452, 454 note, 558, 569
Feval, Paul (1817-1887), 281, 321, 349
Feydeau, Ernest (1821-1873), 440-443
Fielding, 131, 168, 229, 362, 455 note
Fievee, Joseph (1767-1839), 76 note
Fille aux Yeux d'Or, La, 162, 166, 173
Filles du Feu, Les, 257 sq.
Fils du Titien, Le, 253
Fils Maugars, Le, 529 sq.
Flamarande, 177 note and sq., 557
Flaubert, Gustave (1827-1880), v, viii note, 163, 169, 206, 362, 365, 386, 397-413, 427, 449, 452, 461, 465, 467, 473 note, 486, 490 note, 492 558, 560, 569
Fleurs du Mal, Les, 450 note
Foa, Eugenie (1795-1853), 76 note
Folie Espagnole, La, 20 note
Fort comme la Mort, 491 sq.
Fortnightly Review, vi, 304, 484 note
Fortunio, 266 sq.
Foscolo, Ugo, 25
Foyer Breton, Le, 321
Fragoletta, 155 note
France, M. A., 554
Francois le Champi, 179 note
Franco-Prussian War, 1870-71, Maupassant's stories of, 501-502
Frederic et Bernerette, 252-253
Frere Jacques, 61 and note
Fromont Jeune et Risler Aine, 423
Fromentin, Eugene (1820-1876), 277-280, 493, 537
Fronde, Mr., 400 note
Gaboriau, Emile (1835-1873), 147 note, 303 note, 436-440
Gandins, Les, 438
Gaspard de la Nuit, 228, 255 note, 450 note
Gautier, Theophile (1811-1872), v, vi, 81, 90 note, 206, 208-237, 239, 259, 277, 278, 289, 307, 312, 317, 339, 343, 348, 356, 370 note, 386, 399, 413, 441, 456, 461, 472, 553, 564, 569
Gautier, Mme. Judith, 553 note
Gavarni, 47, 461 note
Gendre, Le, 294
Gendre de M. Poirier, Le, 290
Genie du Christianisme, Le, 20
Genlis, Mme. de, 40, 68, 69
George Eliot, 192, 205
George III., 339
Gerard de Nerval (Labrunie, Gerard, 1808-1855), vi, 81, 82, 208, 209, 228, 255-261, 312, 349, 356, 397, 456
Germaine, 432 sq.
Germinie Lacerteux, 411, 461 sq.
Gibbon, 2 note, 3 note
Gilbert (French poet), 266 sq.
Gilbert Gurney, 56
Girardin, E. de, 209, 339
Girardin, Mme. de (Delphine Gay, 1805-1855), 312 note
Gladstone, Mr., 434
Glu, La, 554
Goddam!, 45 note
Goethe, 24, 25, 154
Golden Ass, The, 88
Goncourts, the—Edmond (1822-1896), 169, 206, 362, 399, 411, 423
—— Jules (1830-1870), 452, 460-466, 487
Grand Cyrus, Le, 111
Grande Breteche, La, 162, 163, 173
Grande Marniere, La, 535 sq.
Gregory, Mr. George, 70 note
Guerin, Eugenie de, 283
Gustave ou Le Mauvais Sujet, 44-48
Guy Mannering, 152 note
Guzla, La, 250
"Gyp", 437, 554
Halsbury, Lord, 434
Hamilton, A., v, xix, 134, 209
Hamlet, 15, 26, 157, 235
Han d'Islande, 97-100
Harrisse, M. H., xviii
Haydon, 233 note
Hazlitt, 135 note, 210
Headless Horseman, The, 397
Hearn, Mr. L., 210 note, 222
Heine, 19 note, 411, 497
Helisenne de Crenne, 178 note, 487
Henley, Mr., 319 note, 324, 328 note, 330 note
Hereward the Wake, 391
Hernani, 105 note
Histoire des Treize, 166, 167
Histoire du Lieutenant Valentin, 456
Histoire d'une Puce Enragee, 270, 277
Histoire sans Nom, Une, 455
Hitchcock, Miss Elsie, xii
Hiver a Majorque, Un, 177 note and sq.
Hoffmann, 81 and 82 note, 230
Homer, 27, 32, 33 note, 268 note, 340 note
Honneur d'Artiste, 420 sq.
Hook, Theodore, 44 note, 56, 353
Horace, 404, 425
Horla, Le (and other terror-stories of Maupassant's), 503 note, 508, 509
Houghton, Lord, 255 note
Hugo, Victor Marie (1802-1885), vi, x, 19, 40, 96-133, 147 note, 167, 173, 182, 188, 208, 227, 256 note, 262, 266, 277, 343, 348, 351, 356, 386, 450, 459 note, 467, 472, 497, 556, 557, 564, 569
Hunt, Leigh, 43
Huysmans, Joris Karl (1848-1907), 452, 453 note, 485, 515, 516, 556
Hyperion (Keats's), 169
Idees et Sensations, 461
Il Viccolo di Madama Lucrezia, 243-244
Indiana, 177 note and sq.
Ines de las Sierras, 81 sq., 246, 339
Irving, Washington, 317
Isabel de Baviere, 328
It is Never too Late to Mend, 102
Ivanhoe, 124 note, 353
Jack, 423 sq.
Jacob, P. L., 231 note
Jacquerie, La, 249, 250
Jacques le Fataliste, 236, 526 note
James, G. P. R., 201, 321, 351
—— Mr. H., 399, 493 note
Janin, Jules Gabriel (1804-1874), 73, 231 note, 369, 370 note, 453
Japhet in Search of a Father, 61 note
Jean Sbogar, 95 note
Jerome Paturot, 306-312, 499
Jesus Christ en Flandre, 162
Jeune-France, Les, 227 sq., 243, 307, 441
Johnson, Dr., xix, 17, 65, 370, 383 note, 513
Jonathan Wild, 403
Jonson, Ben, 121, 409 note
Journal des Goncourt, Le, 461, 462, 465
Juif Errant, Le, 296
Julia de Trecoeur, 381 note, 418 sq.
Karr, Alphonse (1808-1890), 281, 316, 317, 326
Keats, 184, 233 note
Kenilworth, 124 note, 353
Ker, Professor, xii, 15 note
Kingsley, Charles, 31, 111, 123, 351, 520
Kipling, Mr., 3, 70 note, 489
Kock, Paul de (Charles P., 1794-1871), vi, x, 9, 40-63, 69, 74 note, 80, 95 note, 158, 188, 302, 305, 308, 349, 357, 569
L'Abbe Aubain, 242
L'Abbe Tigrane, 279, 519 sq.
L'Abbesse de Castro, 140
Laclos, 6, 231, 302, 359, 360, 426, 487
L'Affaire Lerouge, 439, 440
La Femme de Feu, 516
La Femme, le Mari et l'Amant, 54-56
La Fille aux Trois Jupons, 60
La Fontaine, 227 note
La Harpe, 38
La-Haut, 547 sq.
Lalla Rookh, 31
Lamartine, 25, 283
Lamb, Charles, 82, 256, 341, 348 note
Lamennais, 34, 188, 205, 283, 467
La Mettrie, 190
Lamiel, 147, 148
L'Ane Mort et la Femme Guillotinee, 370 note, 153
Lang, Mr. A., 210 note, 256, 292, 324, 437
La Religieuse, 516
La Rochefoucauld, 426
L'Artiste et le Soldat, 72
Last Days of Pompeii, The, 31
Latouche, Henri de (really Hyacinthe Joseph Alexandre Thabaud de L. (1785-1851)), 154 and note
L'Attaque du Moulin, 473, 485
Laure Ruthwen, 95 note
L'Eau Courante, 551
Le Breton, M., 168
Leconte de Lisle, 262 note, 488 note
L'Education Sentimentale, 403 sq., 558
Legende des Siecles, La, 110
Legende du Mont Saint-Michel, 502
Lelia, 179 sq., 577
Lemaitre, M. Jules, 15 note
Le Moyne, le Pere, 262 note
L'Enfant de sa Femme, 462
L'Ensorcelee, 450 sq.
Lesage, 301, 346, 362, 471
"Les Quatre Evangiles," Zola's, 474, 477-480
"Les Trois Villes," Zola's, 474, 477
Lettres de Mon Moulin, 423 sq.
L'Evangeliste, 411, 426
Lewis, "Monk," 251
L'Homme aux Trois Culottes, 60
L'Homme Qui Rit, 122-127, 131, 348, 472
L'Hotellerie Sanglante, 303
Liaisons Dangereuses, Les, 143 and note, 487
Liber Amoris, 135 note
Life in London, 44
L'Immortel, 424 sq.
Lion Amoureux, Le, 300 note
Lionne, La, 300 note
Locker, Mr., 488
Loge a Camille, Une, 384
Lolotte et Fanfan, 40, 70
Longfellow, 527 note
"Loti, Pierre," 554
Louis Lambert, 166, 174
Louves de Machecoul, Les, 328
L'Ouvreuse de Loges, 75-77
Lucian, 256, 404
Lucifer, 524 sq.
Lucretius, 26, 546
Lucrezia Floriani, 177 note and sq.
Ludovica, 72-75, 77
Lui et Elle, 177 note
Macfarlane, Ch., 342
Maclise, 47 note
Madame Bovary, 169, 400 sq., 558
Madame de Chamblay, 328
Madame Eugenio, 456
Madame Gervaisais, 461 sq.
Madame Putiphar, 322
Madelon, 434 sq.
Mademoiselle Annette, 551
Mademoiselle de Clermont, 68
Mademoiselle de Kerouare, 291
Mademoiselle de La Seigliere, 290
Mademoiselle de Maupin, 235, 236
Mademoiselle Giraud ma Femme, 516
Mademoiselle La Quintinie, 179 sq., 416, 557
Maison de Penarvan, La, 291
Maison du Chat-qui-Pelote, La, 160 note
Maison Tellier, La, 503 note
Maistre, X. de, 384 note
Maitre Cornelius, 162
Maitre de Forges, Le, 534 sq.
Maitre Pierre, 436
Man of Feeling, The, 14
Manning, Cardinal, 520 note
Manon Lescaut, 225, 346, 369, 372, 393, 394, 400, 426
Manuscrit de M. Larsonnier, Le, 554 note
Maquet, A., 321, 326-327
Mare au Diable, La, 179 sq.
Mariage dans le Monde, Un, 418
Marie de France, xiii
Marivaux, 46, 209, 346, 362, 471, 567
Marmontel, 6, 69, 416
Marquis de Pierrerue, Le, 522 sq.
Marquis de Villemer, Le, 179 sq.
Marryat, 64, 297, 381
Martial, 227 note, 404
Martineau, Miss, 505 note
Martyrs, Les, 20 sq., 79, 562
Master Humphrey's Clock, 457
Mateo Falcone, 240
Mathilde, 297 note
Maturin, 166 note, 170, 301
Maupassant, Guy de (1850-1893), vi, viii note, ix, 156 note, 163, 170, 226, 237, 386, 413, 417, 449, 464, 465, 467, 484-515, 548, 558, 560, 569
Mayne-Reid, Captain, 397
Mery, Joseph (1798-1866), 281, 312-318
Melmoth Reconcilie, 166
Memoires d'Outre-Tombe, 20 sq., 347
Memoires du Diable, Les, 300, 302
Menage de Garcon, Un, 165
Menage du Pasteur Naudie, Le, 550 sq.
Mendes, Catulle (?-?), 452, 553
Meredith, Mr. G., 148, 174, 399
Merimee, Prosper (1803-1870), v, x, 81, 146 note, 208, 228, 237-251, 277, 289, 343, 348, 352, 356, 386, 399, 413, 459 note, 460 note, 472, 474, 564, 569
Messe de l'Athee, La, 162
Meta Holdenis, 448, 449 note
Michelet, 282, 373 note, 467
Milton, 27, 30, 306, 416 note
Mimi Pinson, 255 note
Mina de Wangel, 140
Mirecourt, E. de, 326
Miserables, Les, 100, 110-116, 131, 348, 382 note, 472, 557
Miss Rovel, 448
Monastery, The, 341
Mon Oncle Celestin, 523 sq.
M. de Camors, 169, 417 sq., 454 note
M. Dupont, 61
Monsieur, Madame et Bebe, 443 sq.
Monsieur Parent, 506 sq.
Monte Cristo, 327 sq., 356
Montolieu, Mme. de (Jeanne Isabelle Pauline Poltier de Bottens, 1751-1832), xix, 40, 65-68, 560
Mont-Oriol, 490 sq.
Mon Voisin Raymond, 56, 57
Moore, Albert, 224
—— Mr. O. H., 514 note
—— Thomas, 37
Morley, Prof. H., xvii
—— Mr. S., 396
Morris, Mr. W., 240
Morte Amoureuse, La, 210 sq., 243
Morte, La (Feuillet's), 417 sq., 454 note
Mr. Midshipman Easy, 393 note
Mrs. Perkins's Ball, 11
Murger, Henry (1822-1861), v, 281, 303-306
Musset, Louis Charles Alfred de (1810-1857), 25, 195, 208, 227, 252-254, 277, 378, 397, 497
—— Paul de, 177-178 notes
Mysteres de Paris, Les, 296
Nabab, Le, 424 sq.
Nais Micoulin, 473
Napoleon le Petit, 110
Narbonne, M. de, 2 note, 7 note
Natchez, Les, 20 sq., 562
Necker, Mme. (Susanne Curchod), 2 note, 3 note
Neuvaine de la Chandeleur, La, 87
New Arabian Nights, The, 232 note
Newman, Cardinal, 31, 520 note
Nez d'un Notaire, Le, 435
Nisard, 282, 357
Noctes [Ambrosianae], the, 233
Nodier, Jean Charles Emmanuel (1780-1844), vi, x, 24 note, 40, 80-95, 255, 256, 349, 356, 357, 397, 459 note, 564, 569
Noeud Gordien, Le, 294
Norine, 521 sq.
Norman Stories, Maupassant's, 502, 503
Norris, Mr. W. E., 144
Northanger Abbey, 265
Notre Coeur, 495 sq.
Notre Dame de Paris, 58, 98, 100, 103-111, 129-131, 332 note, 351, 472
Nouvelle Heloise, La, 346, 561
Nuits Anglaises, Les, 313 sq.
Numa Roumestan, 424 sq.
O'Donovan Rossa, 451 note
Oeuvres de Jeunesse (Balzac's), 157 sq.
Ohnet, Georges (1848-1917), 78 note, 518, 534-542, 558 note
Old Curiosity Shop, The, 47 note, 164
Oliphant, Mrs., 205
Olivier Maugant, 449
Olympe de Cleves, 330 sq.
Oreille Cassee, L'Homme a l', 435
Orientales, Les, 105 note, 132, 450
Orphelins de la Saint-Barthelemy, Les, 438
Ossian, 35, 82
Ourliac, Edouard (1813-1848), 281, 318, 319
Our Mutual Friend, 179 note
Paratonnerre, Le, 237, 294
Paravent, Le, 294
Parent, M., 504
Parents Pauvres, Les, 163 sq.
Parnasse Contemporain, Le, 485 note, 553
Parny, 45 note, 74 note
Pater, Mr., 205, 398
Pattison, Mr. Mark, 566
"Paul Sylvester," 210 note
Paule Mere, 448
Paysans, Les, 166
Peau de Chagrin, La, 133 note, 157 sq., 302 note
Pecheur d'Islande, 555
Pepys, 48, 462
Pere Goriot, Le, 163 sq.
Peter Simple, 26
Petit Carillonneur, Le, 70, 71
Petit Chose, Le, 423 sq.
Petit Robinson de Paris, Le, 76
Petite Comtesse, La, 418 sq.
Petite Fadette, La, 179 sq.
Petits Poemes en Prose, 450 note
Petits Tableaux de Moeurs, 41, 42
Peveril of the Peak, 331
Philtre, Le, 140
"Phiz," 47 note
Pied d'Argile, Le, 294
Pierre et Jean, 486 sq.
Pigault-Lebrun, 1, 19, 20 note, 40, 41, 46, 69, 70, 71, 77, 98, 158, 159, 305, 357, 359, 362, 471, 560, 561
Piozzi, Mrs., 513
Pitt (the younger), 3 note, 344 note
Plato, 268 note
Plautus, 227 note
Poe, 82, 256, 317, 473 note
Ponson du Terrail, Pierre Alexis, Vicomte (1829-1871), 303 note, 436-438
Pontmartin, M. de, 401
Pope, 97, 109, 137
Pretre Marie, Un, 453 sq.
Prevost, xvii, 46, 346, 362, 369, 386, 471
Pride and Prejudice, 567
Princesse de Cleves, La, 68, 253, 346, 350
Prise de la Redoute, La, 242-243, 474
Pursuits of Literature, The, 31
Pusey, Dr., 373 note
Quarante-Cinq, Les, 329 sq.
Quarterly Review, v, 152 note, 172 note
Quatre-Vingt-Treize, 127-129, 347, 348
Quentin Durward, 109, 266
Question Romaine, La, 435
Quintilian, 546 note
Rabelais, 20, 227, 256, 355, 359
Racine et Shakespeare, 135 note
Radcliffe, Mrs., 71, 75, 78, 79, 89
Ravenswing, The, 43
Raymonde, 529 sq.
Reade, Charles, 102, 351, 403
Recaptured Rhymes, 380
Recherche de l'Absolu, La, 162
Reflexions sur la Verite dans l'Art (Vigny's), 262
Reine Margot, La, 144 note, 327 sq.
Religieuse, La, 235, 393 note
Renan, M., 373 note, 461
Rene, 20 sq., 114 note, 282, 286, 336, 356, 561
Renee Mauperin, 461 sq.
Restif de la Bretonne, 460
Reve, Le, 411
Reve et la Vie, Le, 257 note
Revenants, 388 note
Revue des Deux Mondes, 427
Reybaud, 306-312, 317
Reynolds, G. W. M., 75
—— Mr. S. H., 119
Ricard, Auguste (?-?), 65, 75-76
"Richard O'Monroy," Vicomte, 437
Richardson, 7, 111, 112, 362
Richepin, M. Jean, 452, 495 note, 554
Richter, J. P., 174
Ring and the Book, The, 141
Ring given to Venus, The, 240
Rivington, Messrs., xii
Robert Helmont, 426
Robertson-Smith, Prof., 373, 377
Robinson, Crabb, 8
Roche aux Mouettes, La, 291
Roches Blanches, Les, 551 note
Rod, Edouard (1857-1910), 67, 447 note, 518, 542-553
Roi des Gabiers, Le, 297 note
Roi des Montagnes, Le, 420 sq.
Rolliad, The, 344 note
Roman Bourgeois, Le, 471
Roman Comique, Le, 234
Roman Contemporain, Le, 452
Roman de la Momie, Le, 234
Roman d'un Femme, 385
Roman d'un Jeune Homme Pauvre, 417
Roman Experimental, Le, 459
Roman Naturaliste, Le, 459
Rossetti, D. G., 94 note, 224-225, 552
Rouge et le Noir, Le, 133 note, 141-146, 148, 152 note
Rougon-Macquart, Les, 169, 467 sq.
Roundabout Papers, The, 464
Rousseau, J. J., 14, 18, 101, 148, 362, 434
Sabot Rouge, Le, 305
Sacrifiee, La, 544 sq.
Sacs et Parchemins, 290-291
Saint Julien l'Hospitalier, 405 sq.
Saint-Rene Taillandier, 401
Saint-Victor, Paul de, 257, 466
Sainte-Beuve, C. A. (1804-1869), 242 note, 266, 279, 281-288, 307, 356, 401, 413, 440, 441, 461, 463 note
Salammbo, 401 sq., 473 note, 558
Samuel Brohl et Cie, 448
Sand, George (see Dudevant, A. L. A.), vi, 68, 111, 133, 147 note, 155 note, 165, 176-208, 227, 283, 343, 348, 364, 367 note, 472, 486, 529, 557, 569
Sandeau, Jules (1811-1883), v, 177 note, 195, 208, 281, 289-296, 306, 312, 349, 522, 556, 569
Sans Merci, 537 note
Sauvageonne, 529 sq.
Scenes de la Vie Cosmopolite, 552
Scott, Sir W., 28, 58, 78, 82, 106, 107, 109, 115, 117 note, 123, 124 note, 135 note, 152, 168, 262, 263, 266, 331, 332, 338, 340-342, 348, 351, 352, 353-355, 386, 505 note, 533, 537
—— Mrs., 566
Scudery Romances, the, 33, 111, 112
Seconde Vie de M. Teissier, La, 544 note
Sens de la Vie, Le, 542 sq.
Sept Peches Capitaux, Les, 297
Seraphita, 166, 172 note
Serge Panine, 535 sq.
Servitude et Grandeur Militaires, 273 sq.
Settle, Elkanah, 523 note
Seventeenth-Century Novels, Note on some Additional, xiv-xvi
Sevigne, Mme. de, 62
Shakespeare, 15, 47, 126, 142, 174, 268, 431, 497, 546, 563
Shelley, 100, 128, 184, 188, 431, 497
Sibylle, Histoire de, 416 sq., 421
Sidney, Sir Philip, 58
Silence, Le, 346, 347
Silvestre, Armand, 437, 501
Sir Charles Grandison, 111
Smith, Prof. Gregory, xii
—— Sydney, 2, 6, 498
Smollett, 178 note, 471
Soeur Beatrix, La Legende de, 81 sq.
Soeurs Rondoli, Les, 503
Soeurs Vatard, Les, 515
Soirees de Medan, Les, 473 sq., 485, 515
Solitaire, Le, 78-80, 83 note, 356
Soll und Haben, 18 note
Sommer, Dr., xi
Songe d'Or, Le, 82-86
Sophie Printemps, 388 note
Sorel, M., 8, 14
—— Charles, 471
Soulie [Melchior], Frederic (1800-1847), 166, 208, 266, 281, 298-302, 307, 319, 335, 357
Sous les Tilleuls, 317
Southey, 488 note
Souvestre, Emile, 281, 321
Spectator, The, 43, 315
Spoelberch de Lovenjoul, M., 153
St. Irvyne, 100
Stael, Mme. de (Anne Louise Germaine Necker, Baronne de Stael-Holstein, 1766-1817), ix, 1-19, 80, 295, 336, 347, 472, 561, 562
Stello, 266 sq.
Stendhal. See Beyle
Stevenson, Mr., 97 note, 324
Stryienski, M. C., 134 sq.
Succube, La, 162
Sue, Eugene (really Joseph Marie, 1804-1859), 111, 147 note, 166, 208, 231 note, 281, 296 sq., 307, 319, 335, 349, 357
Sur Catherine de Medicis, 166
Swift, 205, 256, 403, 466
Swinburne, Mr., 97 note, 128, 155 note, 380
Swiss Family Robinson, The, 65 note
Sylviane, 525 sq.
Sylvie (G. de Nerval's), 257 note and sq.
—— (Feydeau's), 441
Taillevent, 525 sq.
Taine, 461, 462
Tale of Two Cities, A, 129
Talisman, The, 124 note
Tallemant des Reaux, 263
Tartarin de Tarascon, 423 sq.
Telemaque, 30, 32, 562
Tempest, The, 15, 108
Tennyson, 7, 96, 184, 420 note, 486, 556
Tentation de Saint-Antoine, La, 405 sq., 558 note
Terre, La, 198, 279
Thackeray, 41 note, 43, 54 note, 62-63 note, 82 note, 168, 173, 179, 183, 184, 193, 229, 293, 296, 297 note, 306 sq., 316 note, 317, 319 note, 322 note, 324-326, 331, 351, 353, 355, 358, 360, 370, 392 note, 403, 411, 413, 423, 425, 471 note, 482, 486, 492, 537, 550
Theatre de Clara Gazul, 250
Therese, 361 note, 384 note, 396
Theuriet, Andre (1839-1907), 67, 278, 518, 529-534, 558, 569
Thomson, James (the Second), 305 note
Times, The, 359 note
Timon of Athens, 430
Tobacco Plant (Cope's), 305 note
Toison d'Or, La, 233
Tolla, 428 sq.
Tory, Geoffroy, 456 note
Tourguenieff, 461, 465
Toussaint Galabru, 527 sq.
Traill, Mr., 380, 510, 548
Travailleurs de la Mer, Les, 116-121, 129-131, 348, 472, 557
Trilby, 82, 83
Tristan le Roux, 372 sq., 558
Trois Contes, 407 sq., 558
Trois Hommes Forts, 381
Trois Mousquetaires, Les, 325 sq., 356
Trollope, A., 51 note, 94, 205, 239, 325, 415, 447
Une Femme est un Diable, 251
Une Gaillarde, 55, 60
Une Passion dans le Desert, 162
Une Vie, 489 sq.
Univers, The, 451
Valentine, 179 sq., 557
Vampire, Le, 95 note
Vampires, Les, 95 note
Vanity Fair, 63, 358, 360, 425
Va-nu-pieds, Les, 449 sq.
Veillees du Chateau, Les, 68, 69
Venables, Mr. G. S., 123
Venus d'Ille, La, 240
Verlaine, P., 228, 288, 485
Vicomte de Bragelonne, 110 note, 112, 113, 329 sq.
Vie a Vingt Ans, La, 379
Vie de Boheme, La, 305
Vie de Henri Brulard, 134, 148
Vie Parisienne, La, 443
Vie Privee de M. Teissier, La, 543 sq.
Vieille Maitresse, Une, 454 sq.
Vigny, Alfred Victor, Comte de (1799-1863), x, 208, 227, 261-277, 332, 352, 356, 397, 459 note, 564
Villon, 40, 109
Vingt Ans Apres, 329 sq.
Virgil, 27, 546 note
Voltaire, 28, 209
Volupte, 266, 279, 282-288
Voyages (Chateaubriand's), 20, 21
Wahlverwandtschaften, Die, 18 note
Walpole, H., 455 note, 462
Wandering Willie's Tale, 94, 330
Werther, 24 and note, 81
Westward Ho!, 351
Wilberforce, Bishop, 506 note
Wilhelm Meister, 18 note, 235
Wilson, Prof. ("Christopher North"), 233
Wiseman, Cardinal, 31
Wood, Mrs. Henry, 535
Wordsworth, 306, 342 note, 480, 528, 546
Wright, Dr. H., xiv
Wyndham, Mr. George, 330 note
Xavier de Montepin, 567 note
Yonge, Miss, 544 note
Young Duke, The, 537 note
Young Stepmother, The, 544 note
Yvette, 499 sq.
Zola, Emile (1840-1902), vi, vii, ix, 170, 198, 356, 423, 452, 459 note, 460 sq., 466-484, 488 note, 490 note, 560