ens_ify" the nonsense and injustice since talked about Victorian
criticism. In fact this nonsense may (there is always, or nearly
always, some use to be made even of nonsense) be used against its
earlier brother. It is customary to objurgate Thackeray as too moral.
Thackeray never hints the slightest objection on this score against
these novels, whatever he may do as to the plays. For myself, I do not
pretend to have read everything that Dumas published. There may be among
the crowd something indefensible, though it is rather odd that if there
is, I should not merely never have read it but never have heard of it.
If, on the other hand, any one brings forward Mrs. Grundy's opinion on
the Ketty and Milady passages in the _Mousquetaires_; on the story of
the origin of the Vicomte de Bragelonne; on the way in which the divine
Margot was consoled for her almost tragic abandonment in a few hours by
lover and husband--I must own that as Judge on the present occasion I
shall not call on any counsel of Alexander's to reply. "Bah! it is
bosh," as the greatest of Dumas' admirers remarks of another matter.

[Sidenote: Plagiarism and devilling.]

The plagiarism (or rather devilling + plagiarism) article of the
indictment, tedious as it may be, requires a little longer notice. The
facts, though perhaps never to be completely established, are
sufficiently clear as far as history needs, on the face of them. Dumas'
works, as published in complete edition, run to rather over three
hundred volumes. (I have counted them often on the end-papers of the
beloved tomes, and though they have rather a knack, like the windows of
other enchanted houses, of "coming out" different, this is near enough.)
Excluding theatre (twenty-five volumes), travels, memoirs, and so-called
history, they must run to about two hundred and fifty. Most if not all
of these volumes are of some three hundred pages each, very closely
printed, even allowing for the abundantly "spaced" conversation. I
should say, without pretending to an accurate "cast-off," that any
_three_ of these volumes would be longer even than the great
"part"-published works of Dickens, Thackeray, or Trollope; that any
_two_ would exceed in length our own old average "three-decker"; and
that any _one_ contains at least twice the contents of the average
six-shilling masterpiece of the present day.

Now it stands to reason that a man who spent only the later part of his
working life in novel-producti