elf changed.

Pecuchet, who was working up historical literature studied plays. He
swallowed two _Pharamonds_, three _Clovises_, four _Charlemagnes_,
several _Philip Augustuses_, a crowd of _Joan of Arcs_, many _Marquises
de Pompadours_, and some _Conspiracies of Cellamare_.

Nearly all of them appeared still more stupid than the romances. For
there exists for the stage a conventional history which nothing can
destroy. Louis XI. will not fail to kneel before the little images in
his hat; Henry IV. will be constantly jovial, Mary Stuart tearful,
Richelieu cruel; in short, all the characters seem taken from a single
block, from love of simplicity and regard for ignorance, so that the
playwright, far from elevating, lowers, and, instead of instructing,
stupefies.

As Bouvard had spoken eulogistically to him about George Sand, Pecuchet
proceeded to read _Consuelo_, _Horace_, and _Mauprat_, was beguiled by
the author's vindication of the oppressed, the socialistic and
republican aspect of her works, and the discussions contained in them.

According to Bouvard, however, these elements spoiled the story, and he
asked for love-tales at the circulating library.

They read aloud, one after the other, _La Nouvelle Heloise_, _Delphine_,
_Adolphe_, and _Ourika_. But the listener's yawns proved contagious, for
the book slipped out of the reader's hand to the floor.

They found fault with the last-mentioned works for making no reference
to the environment, the period, the costume of the various personages.
The heart alone is the theme--nothing but sentiment! as if there were
nothing else in the world.

They next went in for novels of the humorous order, such as the _Voyage
autour de ma Chambre_, by Xavier de Maistre, and _Sous les Tilleuls_, by
Alphonse Karr. In books of this description the author must interrupt
the narrative in order to talk about his dog, his slippers, or his
mistress.

A style so free from formality charmed them at first, then appeared
stupid to them, for the author effaces his work while displaying in it
his personal surroundings.

Through need of the dramatic element, they plunged into romances of
adventure. The more entangled, extraordinary, and impossible the plot
was, the more it interested them. They did their best to foresee the
_denouement_, became very excited over it, and tired themselves out with
a piece of child's play unworthy of serious minds.

The work of Balzac amazed them like a Babylo