power of taking
one from Paris, or from London, to places and people certainly very
different from either, to the satisfaction of those who seek in fiction
an escape.

12th June 1889

IX. THE "CONTES" OF M. AUGUSTIN FILON

TALES OF A HUNDRED YEARS SINCE ["CONTES DU CENTENAIRE." PAR AUGUSTIN
FILON. PARIS: HACHETTE ET CIE. ]

[137] IT was a happy thought of M. Filon to put into the mouth of an
imaginary centenarian a series of delightfully picturesque studies
which aim at the minute presentment of life in France under the old
regime, and end for the most part with the Revolution. A genial
centenarian, whose years have told happily on him, he appreciates not
only those humanities of feeling and habit which were peculiar to the
last century and passed away with it, but also that permanent humanity
which has but undergone a change of surface in the new world of our
own, wholly different though it may look. With a sympathetic sense of
life as it is always, [138] M. Filon has transplanted the creations of
his fancy into an age certainly at a greater distance from ourselves
than can be estimated by mere lapse of time, and where a fully detailed
antiquarian knowledge, used with admirable tact and economy, is indeed
serviceable in giving reality of effect to scene and character. In
truth, M. Filon's very lively antiquarianism carries with it a genuine
air of personal memory. With him, as happens so rarely, an intimate
knowledge of historic detail is the secret of life, of the impression
of life; puts his own imagination on the wing; secures the imaginative
cooperation of the reader. A stately age--to us, perhaps, in the
company of the historic muse, seeming even more stately than it
actually was--it is pleasant to find it, as we do now and again on
these pages, in graceful deshabille. With perfect lightness of touch,
M. Filon seems to have a complete command of all the physiognomic
details of old France, of old Paris and its people--how they made a
holiday; how they got at the news; the fashions. Did the English
reader ever hear before of the beautifully dressed doll which came once
a month [139] from Paris to Soho to teach an expectant world of fashion
how to dress itself? Old Paris! For young lovers at their windows; for
every one fortunate enough to have seen it: "Qu'il est joli ce paysage
du Paris nocturne d'il y a cent ans!" We think we shall best do
justice to an unusually pretty book by taking o