a volley of denunciatory epithets, borrowed always from the
severest classic style--"the champion of vice," "the chronicler of sin,"
"the historian of shame and misery." She could not believe that in all
his writings it was possible to discover a single honourable, innocent,
and wholesome thought. Sin was the Muse which he invoked; horror
attended his footsteps; thousands of monsters served as his escort, and
furnished him with the originals of the "disgusting" portraits which he
passed his life in painting. This was plain speaking; but Mrs. Trollope
attacking Victor Hugo is one of those rebellions on the part of the
infinitely little against the infinitely great which move the laughter
of gods and men.

In truth, she is seldom happy in her literary criticisms. She speaks of
Beranger as "a meteor," yet of no French poet has the renown more
steadily increased. She is constrained to admit that the great people's
poet, whose fame will endure when that of most of his contemporaries has
passed into dull oblivion, is a man of a fine genius, but she will not
yield to him that foremost place which posterity, nevertheless, has
adjudged to belong to him. Of Thiers and Mignet she admits the merits
as historians, but characterizes their philosophy as narrow and shabby.

But from literature let us turn to society, in which she is easier to
please. Whether it belongs to the character of the people, or whether it
is but a transitory feature in the physiognomy of the age, she declares
herself unable to determine; but nothing strikes her so forcibly as the
air of gaiety and indifference with which the French discuss those great
subjects that involve the world's destinies. We are inclined to think,
however, that of late years a more serious spirit has prevailed. On the
other hand, we cannot recognize as in existence now that exquisite
courtesy of the French husband towards his wife which moved Mrs.
Trollope's admiration. Unless recent observers err greatly, and unless
the stage has ceased to reflect the tone and manners of society, a great
change for the worst has taken place in this respect, due, perhaps, to
the combined influence of speculation on the Bourse, smoking, and the
coarser code of morals introduced from the North. That elaborate and
delicate gallantry was a kind of _blague_ for the whole nation; it made
every Frenchman a knight of chivalry. No doubt it served as a cloak for
many vices, but we have the vices still, without th