groundwork of this fun. This brigand-chief is not only a popular hero, but a recognised ally of the government, having control of many members of the legislative body, and a good understanding with half the officers of the army. The contrast between western notions of a government and the Greek government, as represented by M. About, is the main source of our mirth. The position of a robber infinitely respected and much liked, with a regular band of soldiers, a daughter at a boarding-school, and a good balance at his banker's, and occupying a stronghold close to the capital, seems ludicrously incredible, until the good-humoured simplicity and cheerful truthfulness of the story gradually persuades us to accept HadjiStavros as the most natural and probable person in the world.

The young German, who tells the tale, hears of HadjiStavros before he sees him: and thus the opportunity is given for a sketch of the hero's career. The master of the house where the German lodges, in Athens, is prevailed on to narrate what he knows of the past life of the man whom he, in common with nine-tenths of the Athenians, sincerely reveres. No Greek, in fact, objects very much, says M. About, to a Greek robbing him: "Un Grec dépouillé par ses frères se dit avec une certaine résignation que son argent ne sort pas de famille." Of course there is an attitude of protest preserved, but the protest is of the feeblest kind. The native moralists complain of robbers as a father complains of the follies of his son. He scolds aloud, but loves the boy all the better secretly, and would be very sorry his lad should resemble "le fils du voisin, qui n'a jamais fait parler de lui." There was therefore no reason, in public opinion, why the Athenian should not tell the story of Hadji-Stavros without unfriendly criticism. Hadji-Stavros, he said, was the son of a priest of the isle of Tino. He was born Heaven knows in what year: the Greeks of the good old time never knew their age, for registers "are an invention of the period of decadence." He made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and on his return was taken by a pirate and forced to turn sailor: "it was thus he began to make war on the vessels of the Turks, and generally on all those that had no cannons on board." At last he determined to set up for himself, and the beginning of the Greek insurrection. afforded him an opening. "He never exactly knew whether he was a brigand or an insurgent, nor whether he was in command of robbers or partisans. All money was good in his eyes, whether it came from friends or enemies, from simple theft or glorious pillage." At this epoch every thing Greek, and HadjiStavros among the rest, was looked at en beau. "Lord Byron dedicated an ode to him, and the poets and rhetoricians of Paris compared him to Epaminondas, et même à ce pauvre Aristide."

But a great misfortune overtook him. Peace was made, and he heard dimly whispered such ominous words as a government, an army, and public security. He laughed heartily when informed that his property was comprised in a sous-préfecture, but he became serious when the tax-gatherer appeared. He kicked that functionary from his door, and retired to the mountains; and thinking the proper time was come, he determined to marry. He married" a rich heiress of one of the best families of Laconia," but his wife died after presenting him with a daughter. Thenceforth he only lived for this child; and in order to give her a royal dowry, he "studied the question of money, learnt to speculate, watched the rise and fall of the funds, and made his band of robbers into a joint-stock company." He travelled widely; and it was during a stay in England that the sight of an election for a rotten borough in Yorkshire" inspired him with profound reflections on the nature and advantages of constitutional government." He came back determined to work the institutions of his country to his profit." He burnt a fair quantity of villages to please the Opposition, and then destroyed as many in the interest of the Conservative party." At last his influence was so great that he had thirty deputies who were his passive tools. A celebrated minister considered it worth while to buy him once for all with a magnificent offer. They met in a most friendly way, and the minister offered him a full amnesty for him and his, a brevet of general of division, the title of senator, and ten thousand hectares of forest-land as a free gift. The brigand hesitated, but at last refused. "It is too late," he said, "for me, at my age, to change my way of living. I should go to sleep in the Senate, and should be apt, from mere force of habit, to shoot my soldiers if I saw them in the uniform I have so often attacked." The character of Hadji-Stavros is well kept up throughout the book, and he has a wild and savage nobleness, and assumes a comic air of superiority to every thing else in Greece, which warms our sympathies as we go on. He reaches his climax in a passage in which he sketches an ideal of brigandage, which old age alone prevents him from realising. "I would give much," he says, "to be young once more, and to be only fifty years old. I dream of a new organisation of brigandage, without disorder, turbulence, or noise; but I have no one to second me. I should like to have an exact census of all the inhabitants of the kingdom, with an approximative estimate of all their property, movable and immovable. A recognised agent at each port would inform me of the intended route, and, so far as possible, of the fortune, of every traveller who landed; and thus I should know what each person ought to give me, and I should not be liable to ask too much or too little. I would establish

on each road a staff of neat employés, well educated and well clothed; for, after all, what is the good of disgusting one's clients by a repulsive aspect and a ruffianly air? I have seen thieves in France and England dressed with the most consummate elegance, and they did their business just as well." This seems to us to go beyond the ordinary region of French wit, and to rise to the level of the humour of Gil Blas. The chief then develops further his great idea: "I should exact from all my subordinates the greatest refinement of manners, especially from those employed in the department of arrests. For prisoners of distinction I would have comfortable and airy dwellings, with gardens attached. And do not suppose this would fall heavily on their purses. Quite the contrary. If every traveller who landed in the kingdom necessarily fell into my hands, I could afford to tax each individual at an insignificant figure. Let every native and every traveller merely give me one-quarter per cent on the sum total of his fortune, and I should gain by the arrangement." But two objections may be urged; and the reply to these objections is the cream of the whole speech. It may be said that this imposition would be very unjust, and that it would be illegal. Hadji-Stavros disposes of both these grounds of complaint. "Brigandage, under my system, would only be a tax on the circulation; it would be a just tax, for it would be proportioned; and it would be a normal tax, for it has been levied ever since the heroic ages. Nay, if necessary, we might simplify the thing by arranging a yearly subscription: for such a sum down natives should get a safe conduct, and strangers a visa on their passports. Then you say that, according to the terms of the constitution, such a tax could not be imposed without the vote of the two chambers. Ah, my dear sir, if I only had the time, I would buy the whole Senate, and would have every deputy returned to please me. The law would pass at once; and, if desirable, it would be easy to create a minister of highways." A specimen in English of a French book is not worth much, but there are little bits in this description which are striking even when translated. calmness and virtue, the equity and impartiality, of the hoary old sinner are delightful, with his talk about his clients, his refined employés, and his proportional taxes. Fielding has given us something of the same sort in Jonathan Wild, and his satire is bitterer and fiercer; but there is a neatness and plausibility in M. About's brigand which amuses and pleases us

more.

The

The most ludicrous scene in Le Roi des Montagnes is one, perhaps, in which the gendarmes of Athens are sent in pursuit of the brigands. The English lady is triumphant, and thinks

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that the hour of her release is come, and that the odious necessity of paying a ransom will be avoided. She is soon undeceived. Pericles, the captain of the soldiers, is not only on excellent terms with Hadji-Stavros, but is a shareholder in the great robber joint-stock company. The friends meet each other with the warmest greeting, and talk at once with great candour over the affair in hand. They only dispute as to which is to have the best in the great imaginary battle, of which Pericles is to send a flaming report to the government. Fericles claims that he should be stated to have the best of it, as he wishes to have a decoration given him. The brigand says that this is rather too much, as it was he who had just made Pericles a captain. "But," replies Pericles, "it is for your interest that you should be said to be defeated, for then confidence will be restored, and travellers will again begin to go over the country." "Yes," answers Hadji-Stavros; "but if I am said to be defeated, the funds will rise, and I am speculating for a fall." When this is settled, the brigand asks for ten men out of the gendarmes as recruits to his band. This is considered a great promotion for them, and Pericles interests himself for a favourite. "He has no chance of rising in the regular way," says Pericles; but if you let him distinguish himself in your troop, the government will offer to bribe him back, and so he will get his step in six months." When it is known that HadjiStavros will accept ten recruits, the anxiety to be among those selected gives rise to much unpleasant feeling. More particu.larly, we are told that "two or three graybeards said openly, that the promotion was made too much by pure favour, and that there was a shameful disregard of the claims of seniority." This demand of the veterans to have the length of their service in the regular force taken into consideration when recruiting is going on for the brigand troop is an admirable touch of humour. Pericles tells Hadji-Stavros that the guard in charge of treasure is to pass at a particular time through a particular defile; and the brigand hastens to intercept it, leaving the gendarmes to take care of the English ladies and their German companion. Before leaving, he charges Pericles to take every precaution against the escape of prisoners whose ransom was likely to be so considerable. "You need not fear," replies Pericles, "I am a shareholder." Hadji-Stavros had just encouraged him by announcing that the year's dividend per share would be eighty-two per cent. The expedition against the guard of the treasure turns out unfortunately, and three of the recruits are killed. When the King of the Mountains returns with this bad news, Pericles is seriously alarmed. That three of his soldiers should be found attacking a royal convoy seems,

even to him, rather strong. But the consequences he apprehends are of a peculiar kind. What he fears is, that he shall not be invited to the next court ball. "See," says HadjiStavros, in confidence to the German, "this is a Greek of today; I am a Greek of yesterday; and the newspapers say we are in a state of progress."

By the side of the description of the King of the Mountains occurs the more purely farcical description of the English ladies, Mrs. Barley and Mary Ann. They are very like the usual English people of French comedy, the Anglais pour rire, who give some delight to Frenchmen, and such unbounded amusement to Englishmen, in the minor theatres of Paris. The mamma confines her observations to repeating that she and her daughter are Englishwomen, and that they are not to be so treated; that she will write to Lord Palmerston and the Times, and have the Mediterranean fleet despatched to Athens at once, unless she has every thing her own way. She writes a letter to her brother about the money to be paid for her ransom, and ends by saying, "It is monstrous that two Englishwomen, citizens of the greatest empire of the world, should be reduced to eat their roast meat without mustard and pickles, and to drink plain water like the commonest kind of fish." This purely farcical element in M. About's books does not make them less amusing, but it brings them to a lower level. We see that, in order to produce an effect, he is satisfied to deal out a very hackneyed and exaggerated kind of wit to his minor characters. These jokes in a French novel are about as witty as if a Frenchman in an English novel were always asking for frogs. We cannot help laughing at Mrs. Barley; but the difference between the wit involved in portraying an English lady always boasting of her country, and always demanding mustard and pickles, and the wit that shines through the elaborate creation of Hadji-Stavros is immense, and makes us feel that M. About, if he often works with very fine tools, also often works with very coarse ones.

Of the other comic novels of M. About, the best and most amusing is, we think, Trente et Quarante. There is less brilliancy in the writing than in the Roi des Montagnes, and there is none of the local colouring and truthfulness of description in the midst of exaggeration; but there is almost, if not quite, as much skilfulness in handling the improbable, and in keeping the reader in an imaginary world so like the real as to produce the illusion that, after all, the story is not so unnatural. In Trente et Quarante there is a Captain Bitterlin, a remnant of the grande armée, a thoroughly pig-headed, parvenu, vain, prejudiced old soldier. Like most old soldiers in romance, the