the heaviness of the old English cuisine; and, should things continue
in their present course, I fancy that Parisians anxious for high feeding
will ultimately have to cross over to our side of the Channel.

These remarks, I trust, will not be considered out of place in an
introduction to a work which to no small extent treats of the appetite
of Paris. The reader will find that the characters portrayed by M. Zola
are all types of humble life, but I fail to see that their circumstances
should render them any the less interesting. A faithful portrait of a
shopkeeper, a workman, or a workgirl is artistically of far more value
than all the imaginary sketches of impossible dukes and good and wicked
baronets in which so many English novels abound. Several of M.
Zola's personages seem to me extremely lifelike--Gavard, indeed, is a
_chef-d'oeuvre_ of portraiture: I have known many men like him; and no
one who lived in Paris under the Empire can deny the accuracy with
which the author has delineated his hero Florent, the dreamy and hapless
revolutionary caught in the toils of others. In those days, too, there
was many such a plot as M. Zola describes, instigated by agents like
Logre and Lebigre, and allowed to mature till the eve of an election or
some other important event which rendered its exposure desirable for the
purpose of influencing public opinion. In fact, in all that relates to
the so-called "conspiracy of the markets," M. Zola, whilst changing time
and place to suit the requirements of his story, has simply followed
historical lines. As for the Quenus, who play such prominent parts
in the narrative, the husband is a weakling with no soul above his
stewpans, whilst his wife, the beautiful Lisa, in reality wears the
breeches and rules the roast. The manner in which she cures Quenu of his
political proclivities, though savouring of persuasiveness rather than
violence, is worthy of the immortal Mrs. Caudle: Douglas Jerrold might
have signed a certain lecture which she administers to her astounded