re like a legal statement of a case than a novel. As another example
of this elaborate workmanship I may quote the remarkable story of 'Les
Paysans.' It is intended to illustrate the character of the French
peasant, his profound avarice and cunning, and his bitter jealousy,
which forms a whole district into a tacit conspiracy against the rich,
held together by closer bonds than those of a Fenian lodge. Balzac
resolves that we shall have the whole scene and all the actors
distinctly before us. We have a description of a country-house more
poetical, but far more detailed, than one in an auctioneer's circular;
then we have a photograph of the neighbouring _cabaret_; then a minute
description of its inhabitants, and a detailed statement of their ways
and means. The story here makes a feeble start; but Balzac recollects
that we don't quite know the origin of the quarrel on which it depends,
and, therefore, elaborately describes the former proprietor, points out
precisely how she was cheated by her bailiff, and precisely to what
amount, and throws in descriptions of two or three supplementary
persons. We now make another start in the history of the quarrel; but
this immediately throws us back into a minute description of the old
bailiff's family circumstances, of the characters of several of his
connections, and of the insidious villain who succeeds him. Then we have
a careful financial statement of the second proprietor's losses, and the
commercial system which favours them; this leads to some antiquarian
details concerning the bailiff's house, and to detailed portraits of
each of the four guards who are set to watch over the property. Then
Balzac remarks that we cannot possibly understand the quarrel without
understanding fully the complicated family relations, owing to which the
officials of the department form what in America would be called a
'ring.' By this time we are half-way through the volume, and the
promised story is still in its infancy. Even Balzac makes an apology for
his _longueurs_, and tries to set to work in greater earnest. He is so
much interrupted, however, by the necessity of elaborately introducing
every new actor, and all his or her relations, and the houses in which
they live, and their commercial and social position, that the essence of
the story has at last to be compressed into half-a-dozen pages. In
short, the novel resolves itself into a series of sketches; and reading
it is like turning over a se