1843; "L'Eté à Paris" (translated under the title: "An American in Paris during the Summer"), 1 vol., 1844; "Horace" (a prose translation of the Roman poet), 1 vol., 1860; "Rachel et la Tragédie," 1 vol., 1861; "L'Histoire de la Revolution Française," 2 vols., 1868; "Lamartine," 1 vol., 1869.

He would have undertaken to write a preface to a Hebrew Bible, to a Basque novel (if there be such a work), the life of Ossian, a biography of Davy Crockett, the adventures of Sam Patch. Want of information never concerned him. He believed with Hamlet, everything was "words, words, words," and that "words, words, words," were everything. This delusion continually led him into blunders. I have given some of them in the above parody of his style. He called the lobster "the cardinal of the seas," for he supposed its shell to be originally dyed with the bright red color it has when served on tables. He described Bordeaux as situated on the sea, and Marseilles at the mouth of the Rhone, because it is in Mouths of Rhone County; spoke of Smyrna as an island; described Charlemagne as a leader of the First Crusade; denounced Louis XI. for his cruel persecution of Abelard; and lauded Catinat for his splendid victory of Denain (which Villars won). Here is a curious passage from one of his works which leads me to think that he believed Shakespeare, Walter Scott, and Byron to have been contemporaries: "I found the literary and political world in unprecedented abundance. What has become of them all? There were in those days Byron, the poet, who died in Greece; Mons. Casimir Delavigne, the poet, who died writing a ballad; Mons. Béranger, the poet, dead, or rather silent, since the last Revolution. There were also the History of the Revolution and Mons. Thiers; the latter has died in the Ministry. There were, moreover, Shakespeare, Schiller, Walter Scott. Schiller is dead; Shakespeare is dead; the poet-novelist is dead, as he returned from Rome to Abbotsford."

Jules Janin's judgments are absolutely worthless. He does not often express his opinion of men, but when he does tell us his thoughts they amaze us. Here is one of Jules Janin's literary judgments, which time has made ridiculous from beginning to end.

Few readers in the United States can imagine the coarse personalities of the French press. There is an absence of delicacy of thought, delicacy of expression, which would be astonishing if one did not

know the depth of French ignorance. Personal abuse is used when there is lack of argument. This heartless personal attack is all the more revolting, as Jules Janin knew, in writing it, that Benjamin Constant had died literally of starvation. It is true that Baron de Rothschild himself could scarcely have averted this fate from Benjamin Constant, for every cent he could procure went to the gambling-table-the great enemy of Méry, Ponsard, of Offenbach, of Rochefort, and of other eminent Frenchmen.

"The first who disappeared from the arena after the Revolution of July was one of the most counterfeit, the most bepraised, the most overrated talents of the old political world. Benjamin Constant, since I must call him by his name, was a wretched German rhetorician, a pamphleteer, an extemporizer who wrote his impressions quietly in his study, a philosopher on the half-pay list, a malignant writer, an abortion of a penny-a-liner; in fine, a pseudo literary man, which is the worst insult a lover of letters can give anybody. The poor vagabond died just as he was about to be guilty of new treachery to the new Government. He died in a hole, disgracefully, between these two nurses-oblivion and disdain. man was one of the caprices of that mendacious popularity which opposition gives and uses to advance its interests. He belongs to that race of mountebanks who reign in some drawing-rooms, on which they foist themselves by their passions or by their obsequiousness. Who now cares to re-read one single one of his pamphlets, one single one of his speeches, one single one of this great man's books ?”

This

It is amazing that Jules Janin should, in 1854, have republished this exhibition of his ignorance. Several editions of Benjamin Constant's works had appeared since his death. He had been lauded by the ablest Frenchmen. His reputation had increased with flight of time. Some years since I asked for his works (and 'twas not the first time) in the Imperial Library. The librarian could not immediately recollect where they were, and said: "I beg pardon; but, really, I am ashamed of myself, for those works are constantly asked for, and I ought to be able to lay hands at once on them." It is probable that Benjamin Constant had wounded Jules Janin's vanity, and the injury was never forgiven. Frenchmen never forgive such blows. Mlle. Rachel once forgot to send Jules Janin bonbons on his birthday; he retaliated by attacking her inces

santly until his birthday came around again. His enthusiastic support of Mme. Ristori is believed to have had its origin in some fancied or real slight put on him by Rachel. He knew her sensitiveness, her dread of rivals, and could tell with unerring precision how deep her heart would be pierced, and how much blood would be drawn from it by a rival's great success. His encomiums on Mme. Ristori did unquestionably drive Rachel to America, where she met her death.

He pertinaciously insisted upon receiving a visit of thanks from every actor, actress, and author whom he praised. Bressant, an actor of the French comedy, refused to comply with this rule. Jules Janin never mentioned him, but, when obliged to speak of him, said: "the actor who played" this or that part. And he did at last force Bressant into docility. But, while Jules Janin insisted upon having his vanity tickled, he never was accused, or even suspected, of levying blackmail on actors. This is a common offense here, even though Florentino and Charles Maurice be dead. They reduced blackmailing to an art, and drew from it almost as large an annual income as a tenor or a prima donna gets from vocal

notes.

The one person Jules Janin hated with pertinacious, rancorous hatred was Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton. Janin says that Lord Lytton never forgave him the criticisms he made on "The Duchess de La Vallière," when it was translated into French and played in Paris. I think Janin, in making this assertion, blunders as usual. I have not been able to verify his statement, and am obliged to trust wholly to my memory. If it serves me faithfully, Lord Lytton said in " Pelham": "The Romantic Revolution, which had brought forth a Hugo and a Dumas, had likewise spewed out a Jules Janin." "Pelham" was written long before Bulwer attempted to write for the stage. He never felt deep interest in "The Duchess de La Vallière," so at least I read his preface to "Richelieu." Janin likewise quoted another fling of Lord Lytton which I do not remember to have seen: 66 France, which has produced Cartouche and Jules Janin-France, which has produced St. Bartholomew's massacre and L'Ane Mort." Cartouche was a notorious highwayman, the French Jonathan Wild. These stings were so poisoned, their irritation never abated. Whenever Jules Janin could deal Lord Lytton a blow he gave it, and when "The Duchess de

La Vallière" and "Money" were successively played here, Janin went into a paroxysm of rage and wrote incoherently; he used, not argument, but foul language; had it been marked by anything like vigor it would have been pure Billingsgate. The Monday following the day on which intelligence of Lord Lytton's death reached Paris, Jules Janin attacked his memory with the old malignity, but it was mere driveling; dotage had come, and a few more weeks afterward the publication of this diatribe the pen fell from his hand.

Poor Prévost Paradol was another object of his hatred, but he dared not express it. They both wrote for the same newspaper ("Journal des Débats"), and Prévost Paradol had powerful friends whom Janin feared to offend. There was a vacancy in the French Academy. Jules Janin's election was assured, until Mons. Thiers, in one of his wonted sudden freaks, determined to bring forward Prévost Paradol as his candidate. Prévost Paradol was then at the meridian of his success. He was considered the hope of France, the heir of the mantles which Messrs. Guizot and Thiers had worn. He was elected as 'twere by acclamation. Janin was bitterly disappointed, and when Prévost Paradol called on him to express the hope that their old relations would be unchanged, despite this incident, Janin gave him such a reception that Prévost Paradol never returned to his house.

When Sainte-Beuve died, both Messrs. Guizot and Thiers informed Jules Janin that he might reckon on their support. He came forward as a candidate for the seat in the French Academy vacated by SainteBeuve's death. He was elected. One cannot suppress a smile to read in SainteBeuve's works this paragraph written eighteen years before Janin's election: "Mons. Janin cannot exert all his good sense unless he feels at liberty-unless he be free from one of those names which, under all circumstances, never appear in his writings except accompanied by an invariable escort of praise. But even when he speaks of these illustrious persons, to whom he instantly attaches all sorts of epithets, Mons. Janin has a way of extricating himself from embarrassment, which shows him to be a man of talents, and in some manner indicates his constraint. He overpraises them. almost makes his archness lie herein. He begins by accumulating so much praise on them, the reader easily sees that praise there is valueless. Oh, I should not like to be

He

theless, was the fate in store for SainteBeuve. Jules Janin was destined to deliver his official funeral eulogy. Had SainteBeuve suspected this he had found additional terrors in death, and upon good ground of reason.

This eulogy was Jules Janin's worst work. Sainte-Beuve was accurate, concise, full; every word had a meaning, and could not be discarded without lessening information. Jules Janin's wordy flux did not float to the public one single clear idea on any subject-on Sainte-Beuve less than anybody. Sainte-Beuve has somewhere described the illness which overtook Mons. de Sacy one day in the French Academy, when Alfred de Vigny read a poem sent in by Adolphe Dumas to compete for a prize. The poem was a rigmarole of senseless verbiage expressed in sonorous words, which were made more irritating to the nerves by Alfred de Vigny's slow, pompous mouthing of them. Sainte-Beuve said Mons. de Sacy had been attacked with Boileau's disease. You remember Boileau was the great lawgiver and censor of the French Parnassus, and senseless words made him ill. If Sainte-Beuve had heard Jules Janin's eulogy on him, he too would have had Boileau's disease. Everything went wrong. Janin began to read in a whisper, which soon sank into an inaudible sound. He trembled in every limb. I was astonished, for I had repeatedly heard him speak, and he spoke in a loud tone and with apparent self-confidence. Mons. Fleury rose, and saying: "I see Mons. Janin is ill; Monsieur, let me read the speech for you." He took the manuscript from Janin's hand and read it. Janin meantime looked the very picture of mortification. I could not help thinking that day how one of his enemies had described him: "Janin is a fat fellow, whose chin falls on his shirt bosom; whose shirt bosom falls on his abdomen; whose abdomen falls on his articles in 'Journal des Débats;' whose articles fall on everybody."

In 1858 Janin quitted his old home in Rue de Vaugirard. His father-in-law had long pressed him to come to Passy and build a house near the former, but Janin had refused to leave his old home. He had meantime grown extremely obese and very gouty, and must have found it toilsome indeed to climb to his fifth story. I suspect these circumstances impelled him to aban: don his old lodgings. He built a beautiful

Rossini and Lamartine lived near by, and the celebrated Château de la Muette (one of Marie Antoinette's favorite retreats from the stately etiquette of Versailles, and now the residence of the Erards, the eminent musical instrument makers), where Janin was always welcome, was almost within call. The ground on which he built his Swiss cottage was at one time a portion of La Muette's garden. The grounds were filled with plants and flowers. Ivy mantled the house from the ground to the first floor. On the ground floor was a pretty summer diningroom, whose walls were made of encaustic tiles of bright colors, while a huge Revival chimney reminded one of the hospitality of the olden times. Adjoining the diningroom was a kitchen, in the Dutch style, paved with red tiles, and with shelves of white marble. The walls of the staircase leading to the first floor were completely hidden by engravings, every one of them a rare proof copy. The first door on the landing opened into an immense room, which was drawing-room, study, and library; it was lighted by four large windows, whose panes were yellow and red stained glass. Around the room were large carved oak libraries. The mantel-piece was of white marble, with a valuable Louis XVI. clock on it, and above the latter a pastel portrait of Mme. Janin, taken soon after her marriage. The ceiling is of carved oak. are two carved oaken tables, one covered with books, the other was Jules Janin's writing desk; like Dickens, he always used blue ink. Back of this table was an excellent white marble bust of Janin. A large plate glass separated this room from the winter's dining-room, which was as cozy as possible. Mme. Janin's drawing-room and the bedchambers were on the second floor.

There

Janin's library deserves mention. It was one of the most valuable private libraries in Paris. He had had made for him the best Holland paper, each page of which bore this water-mark: Jules Janin. Wherever a meritorious work was to be issued in Paris, the publisher would go to Janin and ask him for sheets enough of this Holland paper to print on it a copy of the work in press. His library in this way contains copies of all the best works published here during the last fiveand-twenty years; all are presentation copies, and enriched with piquant notes from the authors. The other portion of his library consisted of the rarest bibliographical treasures- Elzevirs, Aldines, Estiennes, etc.,

illustrated works, the first edition of the French standard authors of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The library contained twenty editions of "Horace," among them that of Henri Estienne, 1577; that of Turnèbe, 1605; the Elzevir, 1675. He used to tell almost with tears in his eyes a trick played one day on him. Second-hand books are sold on the quays. The books are placed in boxes, which lie on the top of the wall which separates the side-walk from the wharf. This wall is fifteen or twenty feet high on the river's side, and three or four feet high on the sidewalk. The majority of boxes have tickets announcing the price of the books they contain. Janin one day discovered an admirable copy of Bond's edition of "Horace" in a box ticketed five cents. Book-hunting had delayed him, and he reached home (he lived in Rue de Vaugirard) after the dinner-hour. He had no sooner entered than he shouted to his wife: "Don't scold me! I bring with me a Bond's 'Horace' fit for a king." He threw on the table a dirty, dog-eared, ink-stained, school edition of "Horace." While he was hunting in his purse for five cents, another lover of books had substituted this copy for Bond's edition, which he himself had borne off. Janin used to say this was one of the great misfortunes of his life. He excluded from his library writers of the decline of Roman letters, and gave for his reason: "There is nothing on earth more mournful, next after the dishonor of a great nation reduced to bear the yoke of a foreign oppressor, than the decline of a literature." All of Janin's modern works are bound in the most splendid manner; he | paid as much as $250 for some of the bindings. He said: "How often have I refused to buy a new coat for myself, that I might dress Lucrèce, or Les Effrontés, Colomba, or Valentine, La Demoiselle à Marier, or Le Jeune Mari, in one of those purple and gold habits which Capé, Niedrée, and Bauzonnet knew so well how to embroider."

Mme. Janin has offered her husband's library to the French Institute upon conditions that it shall be placed in a separate room, which shall be called "Jules Janin's Room." These conditions have been accepted. She has added to her gift Adam Salomon's marble bust of her husband, which stood in his study, and Geoffroy's (the actor) picture of the green-room of the French Comedy, which Dr. Louis Véron gave Janin. Let me tell some anecdotes of Janin. They will reveal traits of his character which I necessarily have left in the shade.

Under the French Comedy is the most famous flower-shop in Paris. It was kept for years by a Mme. Prévost, who was one of the best saleswomen of her generation. Her daughter still keeps it, and has inherited a considerable portion of Mme. Prévost's obliging temper, grace, politeness, and activity. A polite shopkeeper is now a rarity in Paris; they are very surly, and look as if they thought they were doing you an honor in waiting on you. Mme. Prévost died in 1838. Jules Janin wrote her obituary, and the article had great success. The vogue of the shop increased, and nothing was talked of in Paris, but Mme. Prévost. The day after the article appeared, a well-dressed man called on Jules Janin and said: "I am Mme. Prévost's son-in-law and successor. I am unable to express to you all the gratitude we feel to you for the honor you have done her; but I have come to ask you to accept a slight token of our gratitude, to beg you to allow us to send you a nosegay every week. Look upon it as a pledge of our gratitude." Six-and-thirty years have passed away since then; but spring and autumn, summer and winter, every week a nosegay was sent from that flower-shop to Jules Janin. The last one of them was laid on his coffin.

Janin detested poetry, and yet the dream of his last years was to translate Horace into French verse. He was very fond and very proud of his prose translation of Horace.

Janin rarely made a bitter speech, but some are related of him. A lady and her son were breakfasting with him at Passy. The child, who was five or six years old, constantly cried for some delicacies which had, to tease him, been placed out of his reach. His mother and Mme. Janin made him do all sorts of tricks before they would give him anything. Janin looked on moodily for some minutes and then said: "Come, come, my lad, you are no longer a child; you show yourself to be a man, for you are degrading yourself to get your food."

Janin hated the Second Empire. Some of his articles in the earlier days of the Second Empire were so offensive to the Court, that it was more than once considered whether he should not be exiled. Warning of the temper of the authorities was conveyed to him. He replied: "I do not fear exile. I shall be abroad in better company than I am here; for I shall find abroad misfortune and honor." Soon after Victor Hugo had published "Les Châtiments" (which, as may readily be conceived,

gave great offense to the Imperial Court), Jules Janin wrote an article eulogizing Victor Hugo. His friends begged him not to publish it; the editor of "Journal des Débats" was almost afraid to let it appear. Janin answered all appeals made to him to withdraw it: "I will never be an apostate to my admirations." He was fond of instituting a comparison between the Second Empire and the close of Louis XV.'s reign, which led to the great Revolution. He predicted there would be terrible scenes after the fall of the Empire. La Commune vindicated his reputation as a prophet. In expressing his indignation with the higher classes of the Empire, he used to say: "Those young rascals hunt turkey-keepers on their fathers' estates to dress them up like duchesses; and (which is still more deplorable) real duchesses now take these ex-turkey-keepers for their models." The Court was very desirous to win over Jules Janin, and one day sent Mons. de Sacy (the chief editor of "Journal des Débats," who had been completely won over) to persuade him to come out openly in favor of the Empire. Jules Janin had then in press, "Les Oiseaux Bleus." Mons. de Sacy said to him: "I wish you would dedicate that work to the Imperial Prince; if you will I will have you made officer of the Legion of Honor the day it is published." Jules Janin took up his pen and wrote on the fly-leaf of the proof-sheets: "Dedicated to the Comte de Paris," and handed it to Mons. de Sacy, who exclaimed: "What an incorrigible fellow you are!"

Janin's last months were unhappy. As long as he was dramatic reporter of "Journal des Débats," his circle of courtiers were as obsequious and as attentive as ever. Actors and actresses went down to Passy to declaim their parts to the gouty old man; actors read their new pieces to him; managers begged a good word for this performer or for that play; but, when he ceased to be dramatic reporter, when he became only Jules Janin-he shrunk into nothingness. In France a man is nobody unless he be something.

Nobody darkened Jules Janin's doors. He had thought himself loved for himself (the flattering unction all of us lay to our souls!), and he found all those smiles, all that warm pressure of the hand, all those flattering speeches were addressed-not to him, but to the dramatic reporter of "Journal des Débats." His heart sank within him. He became morose. His mind soon

Old

became impaired. Memory failed. faces were not immediately recalled. Words were summoned in vain. The inexhaustible talker was compelled to mumble: "Wait, wait, I say! I know perfectly well what I want to tell you! The words! The words! I cannot get the words." He had been unusually well, and after hobbling around his garden, chatting merrily, sat down to rest. He was scarcely seated, when his head fell on his breast, and he passed away from this life. The chair in which he expired was the chair in which Béranger had died. Janin had often expressed a wish to die in that chair.

Janin, like many other Frenchmen, was very desirous that his funeral should be numerously attended, many speeches made at the grave, a good deal of excellent music by famous singers, and all that pomp and pageantry by which astute tradesmen have combined to levy as heavy a tax as possible on human vanity. Janin must have been contented. He had three splendid funerals. Everybody in Paris went down to Passy to his funeral there. Comte de Paris and Duc de Nemours deigned to call at the house and write their names, but to follow to the church the faithful friend of their family, who had always fought for them, who had remained steadfast in the darkest hours of their history, was too much to expect from members of the House of Orleans. No wonder their adherents now are fewer than they were during the Empire! Victor Hugo, puffed up with his egregious vanity, refuses to go to anybody's funeral. He left his card at the door and went away! He “cut” Janin at the grave as he had "cut" Alexandre Dumas.

The funeral ceremonies at St. Etienne were the most gratifying, and did as much honor to Jules Janin's birthday as they did to the author himself. His name has always been held in grateful remembrance there. In 1834 there was an inundation of Furens River, which wrought great destruction in St. Etienne and its neighborhood. Jules Janin enlisted Châteaubriand, Meyerbeer, Rossini, Dr. Véron, Baron Taylor, as a portion of the army which was to conquer money for his old neighbors. He organized concerts at Passy, Nantes, and Paris (Rossini himself arranged the latter), and got the most celebrated musicians and singers of the day to take part in it. These concerts enabled Jules Janin to send $5,000 to St. Etienne. Some years afterward, he persuaded the Government to send an ex