do. The father of Dupont, very much astonished, behaved himself like a gallant man, approved our demand, and forbade his son to think of this alliance. Dupuis, pretending to be at a loss to know how to extricate himself from this awkward predicament, feigned to be more angry than he really was, and said to his daughter, that all that he could do was to let her do as she pleased."

This is a well-managed scene; for Dupuis plays the part of an indulgent and prudent father, who does not wish to constrain his daughter, and who breaks with him whom he seemed to choose for a son-in-law, without the latter being able to complain, since it is the daughter who refuses him. Nor can Desronais any longer desire it, since he has consented to withdraw his word in his favor; and if he delays for some time to give his daughter, Desronais is compelled to excuse this delay; there must be some interval between a rupture and a new marriage. In this manner, Dupuis, in the novel of Challes, is selfish at his ease, and almost with honor, without any one being able to censure him.

The success of Challes consists in knowing how to make Dupuis confess to Desronais himself this singular dread which he had of having a son-in-law; and this without either Desronais or the reader being shocked at it. Selfish fathers cannot conceal the passion which they feel; but do not dare either to avow or to justify it; they do not dare to call it by its true name; they say that they love their daughter, but will not acknowledge that they love her for themselves, rather than for herself. Dupuis is more bold; he acknowledges his fault and justifies it: "Very soon," said Desronais, "Dupuis gave me a proof of his attachment for me, which I did not expect. I had obtained from the Court the office which was bestowed upon me; but I was compelled to defray the expenses of it, and I had only twothirds of the money that was required. The delay which was granted me had expired. I did not know how M. Dupuis was informed of my situation. Without saying a word to me about it, he borrowed the amount, pawned a part of his silver, and remitted to me through the hands of his daughter, twelve thousand livres. This act of generosity touched me; I was going to return my thanks to him; he did not wish to hear me; I insisted upon it. 'Eh! morbleu,' says he to me, 'since you are so anxious to speak, I will

speak too. Is it not true, that if I had given you my daughter with my property, I could not have rendered you this service? Is it not true, that if you had married my daughter entirely destitute, as you desired, you would have thought that this property which I have given you would have been hers, and not mine? Is it not true, that because you are nothing to me, you would have been under a greater obligation to me, than you would have been if you were my sonin-law ?' 'I must confess it.' "Eh! well, that is just right. My friend, be always the master of your own property, and require your children, if you ever have any, to make their court to you, without putting it in their power to compel you to make your court to them. You will have children yourself some day. Do as I do with Manon; for I regard you both on the same footing, and love you with equal affection.' I was constrained to recognize the good sense of this moral lesson, which so much enraged me. I admired this man, who trusted me with his property, and who did not wish to give me his daughter."

In this scene, the character of Dupuis is painted in a pointed and striking manner, and yet it is not displeasing. While we blame Dupuis, we recognize that there is nevertheless some truth in his opinion; he only exaggerates it; but it is for this very reason that his character is placed in relief and becomes comic.

The denouement of the novel of Challes is melancholy; but it is true and moral. Dupuis sincerely wished to give his daughter to Desronais; he only wished from selfishness to put off her marriage as long as possible. He is punished for this very fault. He becomes suddenly ill, and feels that death is approaching. Then this temporizer wishes to make haste; he wishes, before dying, to see Marianne and Desronais married in his chamber; but he dies before the mar riage can be consummated; and this man who had, if we may so speak, wasted the time by his selfish delay, did not have an opportunity to accomplish the only generous thought of his life.

We are astonished that Collé did not profit more by the happy inventions of Challes. Dupuis, in Collé, is rather a misanthrope than a selfish and jealous father. His soliloquies, impressed with a certain melancholy sadness, and his capri

cious and irresolute conduct, do not give us the secret of his character.

Much has been said, in the piece, of Dupuis' want of confidence, as if it were a universal distrust and a genuine misanthropy.

You do not know the extreme distrust
With which his heart is filled against the human race.
Act iii. scene 5.

says Desronais to Marianne; but it is not the human family that Dupuis distrusts, it is his son-in-law. He is not dissatisfied with the whole world; his dissatisfaction is confined to one point, to the idea of disposing of his daughter and his fortune to a man who, receiving all from the law and the custom of society, rather than from his affection and generosity, will not consider himself bound to love him. Such is his care, and such is his character.

We much prefer the denouement of Challes to that of Collé. In Collé, Dupuis concludes by being touched with compassion, and consents to the marriage of his daughter with Desronais.

And if it is possible, be always my friend, [says he to him,]
Although you become my son-in-law.

These two last verses are the finest in the piece, and afford the best illustration of the character of Dupuis. But the denouement is vulgar. The Theatre is overrun with spendthrifts, who, in the fifth act, become economical; gamblers, who have quit gambling; misers, who have become generous; malignant persons who forget their hatred, and bad persons who become good. But we do not think that to make a moral metamorphosis of the character of the principal personage, is the natural denouement of a comedy.

We must confess, in concluding these remarks, that paternal selfishness is difficult to represent on the stage. It is better adapted to the novel than the Theatre; because in a novel, the author can easily explain, while in the drama, explanations soon become tedious to the spectators. At the Theatre, the exhibition of natural and simple emotions always

succeed better than those which are complicated. Paternal selfishness is therefore introduced on the stage only in the advanced state of literature, when the simple sentiments, having been exhausted, authors are forced to search in the recesses of the human heart for the subtle and strange feelings which excite curiosity. They commence with representing paternal love in its most tender and devoted traits, as well as in what it possesses of elevation and firmness; they conclude by painting it in its jealous and selfish features. They begin with Don Diego, the old Horace and the Geronte in The Liar; they end with Dupuis and Triboulet.

X.

OF THE INGRATITUDE OF CHILDREN.-THE EDIPUS COLONEUS OF SOPHOCLES.-THE KING LEAR OF SHAKSPEARE. THE FATHER GORIOT OF BALZAC.

ART has two modes of elevating its character, viz. prosperity and adversity; and of these the latter we think is the most efficacious, since it addresses itself to the feeling of pity, which is in the heart of man a more powerful source of admiration, and is not so easily exhausted. In Don Diego and the old Horace, the paternal character becomes venerable by the respect and obedience which their sons entertain for them; but in the Edipus, and in King Lear, this sacred character seems to become elevated, sustained by the indignation which is excited by the ingratitude of their children.

To the characters of Edipus and King Lear, those ancient victims of filial ingratitude, we will compare the personage of one of our modern romances, Father Goriot abandoned by his daughters. This comparison will not only be advantageous to our literary studies; for the manner in which each age conceived of this character of an outraged father shows also, if we are not mistaken, the idea which it entertained of a family, and of the force of the obligations which bind the father and his children.

Like Edipus, King Lear is cast off by his children; but there are, in the manner in which Sophocles and Shakspeare describe their misfortunes, differences which it is curious to observe; differences entirely of a literary nature, which partake of the form of the ancient and modern drama-for the moral intention is the same in both; the two poets have the same idea of the sacredness of paternal authority, and of the inevitable vengeance which is attached to ungrateful children.

From his birth to his death the destiny of Edipus is